Inside the Studio with Robert L. Smith: Craft, Mentorship, and the Making of Great Records

You’ve had an incredible career surrounded by talented people. Who were your mentors?

You are right, I have had an incredible career. My mentors were Phil Ramone, Neil Dorfsman and Gary Lyons.

If you had told me back when I started how influential Phil would be to my career, I would have said, “The story guy?” Every session with Phil started out with like 2 hours of stories.

Which at the time seemed insane for how expensive studio time was, but that’s how we would start. In hindsight, what did I get from those stories?

Permission to break the rules and make my own rules. Which sounds like nothing, but it really has been everything. I learned the right way to treat an artist and get what I need from them, so they do their best work.

Permission to break the rules and make my own rules. Which sounds like nothing, but it really has been everything.

Do this with enough artists and you become known as the guy who takes care of their artists, and as not everyone practices this philosophy, over the years it has made me very busy. And for that I will always be grateful.

To that end, I was the subject of a documentary a few years ago and gladly dedicated it to Mr. Ramone. You can see it here:

Neil Dorfsman. If you are reading this you will know this name, as Neil was the producer and engineer for Dire Straits classic album “Brothers In Arms”, among many other incredible albums.

What did I get from Neil? Attention to detail and humor.

Assisting him was a master class in learning how to capture and mix a song. To that end I remember doing an album with him, from recording through mixing, every step of the way, and still being floored when the album came out.

It really encapsulated what we could do with an artist and make their music incredible. And the most important part of any session? Laughs. Having done this for so long I feel like my sessions are a forum for my latest ‘material’ rather than just being the tech guy.

As every session has the potential to be tense and stressful, landing a few laughs right from the start sets the tone that “We are here to have the best day, making the best music, with the best people”. And so it shall be.

“We are here to have the best day, making the best music, with the best people”.

Gary Lyons. Back to the beginning for me. I knew nothing when I was paired with Gary. We were completely opposite people, but that strangeness stretched me in ways that I had no idea I even needed. Gary started SARM studios in London, working with Queen, Steve Marriott, as well as a partnership with Roy Thomas Baker (RIP), and ultimately moving to New York for the likes of Foreigner, Aerosmith, Grateful Dead and The Rolling Stones.

These were still the crazy days of major labels and all the madness of what record making was back then.

Let’s stay with the topic of mentors for a moment. When you’re meeting or working with new engineers, what are a few things that would instantly impress you and make you want to work with them again?

Great question. Two answers for you. 1. Attention to detail 2. Demeanor.

If you are a person that sweats the details then you are in the right place. Working in sessions is more about the people than the gear.

This gig is intense and if you are happy to be in the session, that goes a long way. No one wants to be around someone who is a buzzkill or clouded by negativity.

No one wants to be around someone who is a buzzkill or clouded by negativity.

I’ve seen people get the best opportunities because they were the best people, even if they were not a technical expert. Anyone can learn the tech, but it’s a longer road to learn how to be a good person.

You’ve often spoken about studio etiquette. How important do you think it is in today’s world of home studios and remote sessions? Is it still just as relevant for an up-and-coming engineer?

Studio etiquette is the difference between you being considered professional or amateur. One factor that is not talked about enough is this is a service industry.

Studio etiquette is the difference between you being considered professional or amateur.

Meaning if you are being hired you are providing a service to the client. For those that come into this to be ‘famous’ first, they are missing this crucial foundation.

If you spend more time nurturing your ego than taking care of your client and their files, you won’t be hired again. I see this often with producers and engineers that never had the benefit of working in a professional environment.

In the real world, this industry is quite small by comparison, so taking care of your reputation is paramount to having a career with any longevity.

You’ve said you prefer using compressors on the way in rather than EQ. Was this something a mentor taught you, or did it come through personal experimentation?

One of the interesting things about my mentors is, in hindsight, they taught me nothing about gear. Having been raised in the big facilities and major label budgets, everything we used was the best and honestly no one experimented much.

This was the 80’s, with two days just for the snare drum sound and no home studios yet. It wasn’t until I had my own studios that I really listened to every microphone and developed my tastes and choices with gear.

A big part of this education was getting away from equalizers during tracking sessions, just relying on mic choices and placement. Through all this listening I really began to appreciate what a great compressor can do. If I have my way in a tracking session I’ll have a compressor on almost everything, BUT the setting is always quite minimal.

Maybe -1db of compression with a slow attack and fast release. Very much a ‘kissing the needle’ aesthetic. I’m using it for the sound more than dynamics control.

Very much a ‘kissing the needle’ aesthetic. I’m using it for the sound more than dynamics control.

P.S. One fun story I like to share, that always gets a reaction now, is in the 80’s, in New York at least, none of us used Fairchild 670’s. It was ALL about the SSL’s and that buss compressor. Nobody had time for those old boxes anymore.

To that end, the studios that did have Fairchilds, most of them were broken and no one bothered to fix them. To see them revered now is always shocking, because my main use for a Fairchild was as a foot stool.

You’ve mentioned mixing very quietly (around 50–60dB) and in mono. Can you talk us through why you do this, and what benefits you’ve found in this approach?

One of the things I’ve learned about my work is I do my own thing and have no interest in doing what everyone else is doing.

One of the benefits of this approach is my work does not sound like everyone else’s. When I was an assistant engineer it was the era of ‘using the bigs’. Monitors that is. The whole NS-10 thing was still new, and the ‘classic’ engineers still relied on the big soffit mounted monitors, played very loud.

I mention all this, because just like always, I went my own way.

The one thing I gained from this cranked ‘education’ is those blasting monitors did nothing to tell you, the engineer, how your mix would translate in the real world. You’d be temporarily deafened and that would be about it.

The smarter engineers would put the Studer two track machine in input, mute the ‘mains’ and listen through the monitor speaker on the tape machine. That to me was truer than any fancy monitor array in any room. It stuck with me enough that that method has been my monitoring philosophy for almost 40 years. That Studer speaker was mono, of course, and that is how I do it.

I’m sure you’re wondering, “With all the incredible monitoring available today why would you be so low tech in your own studio?”. The answer is simple. Focus and History. Once you understand how a mix should sound in one speaker, with no crossover, just two wires connected to one driver in a cabinet, it truly simplifies your process and eliminates distractions.

Once you understand how a mix should sound in one speaker, with no crossover, just two wires connected to one driver in a cabinet, it truly simplifies your process and eliminates distractions.

Granted, you do have to spend some time and get acquainted with how it works, but once you do three things happen: 1. You learn how to get the vocal level perfect 2. You learn how to get the bass level perfect 3. There are no eq clashes or phase issues. Which, if you’ve spent any time mixing, you learn those are the hardest things to achieve in a great mix.

When you do get it dialed in right, and sounding massive on a little speaker in mono, it will sound like that everywhere else.

And why do I mention History? Because I latched on to music at a very young age, and that handheld AM radio gave me everything I needed in the world.

I grew to love music, and that sound had nothing to do with fidelity, it had everything to do with feeling. I still remember that feeling, so if I can replicate that with a song I’m producing, mixing or mastering, I know I’m going in the right direction. Which, at the end of the day is the only reference I need.

There’s a saying that “feel is far more important than precision” when it comes to recording sessions. Where do you stand on that balance between technical control and musical intuition?

Oh yes. One of my statements that comes back to me all the time is “The first take you feel it, the second take you think about feeling it”.

“The first take you feel it, the second take you think about feeling it”.

Recording music in a studio is one of the most unnatural things we as humans do. The level of focus and scrutiny in a session is more like what one would do if they were researching a disease in a laboratory. “Red Light Fever” is a real thing for musicians and artists and it can take years to learn how to overcome it.

For those starting out it can be quite stressful knowing you’re recording right now and you better get it right. As I like to say, “One of the best lessons to learn in a recording session is to leave your brain out of the process.” You either know the song or you don’t and the more you fixate on this, the lesser your performance will be.

“One of the best lessons to learn in a recording session is to leave your brain out of the process.”

I learned early on to always be in record, especially if the person you’re recording asks you not to. Why? Because that is when you will grab one of the best performances you will capture that day.

You’re known for working across an impressive range of genres. Would you advise a young engineer to niche down early, or to stay broad and explore different styles for as long as possible?

My answer to this question has changed over time. Back when you could get a job in a traditional studio you would see every kind of music, if you were lucky.

This made for a brilliant education, as it opened your mind to music of the world and different cultures you might not experience otherwise. Fast forward to now. Everyone is an entrepreneur. Now the best thing you can do is find clients that love what you do and hire you consistently. That’s the gig. Run it as long as you can.

Everyone is an entrepreneur. Now the best thing you can do is find clients that love what you do and hire you consistently.

There are really no staff positions anymore so this is the closest you’ll get to a steady job. Do the work. Get the experience. Build your reel. When those clients move on from you, do your best to move on from them first, by networking all this time and building relationships.

Remember, your reputation is everything, so be reliable, consistent and professional. Focus on those three factors and work will come to you. It sure worked for me.

You’ve said before that you worked 100 hours a week for 10 years. Do you think that kind of relentless schedule is still necessary for a driven producer today, or has the industry shifted?

No, for the most part. The main reason for those hours is there were no home studios yet, so every album was made in a traditional studio. There was no taking the files home and edit or mix.

You did this on the clock in the studio. These were the days of tape and big consoles, and if you needed to recall a mix you had to turn all those knobs by hand.

I hope what you’re getting from all this is everything was time consuming. So it’s not like I wanted to be there 100 hours a week, it’s just that’s the kind of time you had to put in to make an album. The other side of this question has more to do about a personality type than anything else.

I hope what you’re getting from all this is everything was time consuming.

If you are one of those OCD types, you may very well put in those kinds of mega hours on your own because that is just what you need to do, but for the most part the project won’t require that kind of time commitment.

The internet is overflowing with advice. Some great, some questionable. How would you suggest a newcomer learn to separate useful guidance from misleading noise?

You’re correct. I do feel sorry for those starting out now, because there is so much noise out there, how do you find out who to listen to, who to learn from?

The first question I ask myself when someone pops up in my feed is, “What kind of career do they have?” If me, or anyone else I know hasn’t heard of them, they are instantly suspect of being in the ‘armchair quarterback’ pool. More often than not, they are the ones that are quite adamant about their advice, and play the game very well.

The first question I ask myself when someone pops up in my feed is, “What kind of career do they have?”

Advice, that is, not American football. As the apprentice system I came up on is extinct now, the easy answer is to find a mentor.

Learn from the person whose career you want. Do your research first, because those of us that do mentor have no time to waste dealing with anyone who is there for the wrong reasons. The thing you have to understand is both the mentor and mentee invest in each other.

I’m only going to give you my time if I know it is not wasted on you. Some of my proudest moments are when a mentee breaks out on their own, starting their own career, their own business, their own journey. It means that person took my guidance to heart and set up the life that they want, or at minimum, have a clear vision of their future.

As our conversation with Robert L. Smith comes to a close, what stands out most is the clarity of his perspective. His stories point to a lifetime spent learning from great people, shaping his own approach, and caring deeply about the artists who trust him with their work. The lessons he shares here are not just about gear or technique. They are about character, patience, curiosity, and the craft of listening.

For anyone building a career in this industry, his experiences offer something rare. A reminder that the real work happens in the long hours, the small decisions, the quiet moments, and the commitment to treating every session with respect. These insights come from a place only decades of dedication can reach, and we are grateful to have them captured here.

Here is to the people who shaped us, the rooms that taught us, and the records still waiting to be made.