Behind the Scenes: audio engineer Marc Broer

After two decades of adaptation, the current recording van is fully electric, zero-emissions, and ready for almost anything. Over a long conversation (which we’ve done our best to condense here), Marc explains the circuitous and organic route he pursued over the years; keeping eyes and ears open, fine tuning an approach that combines the best of analogue and digital capabilities. Today his trademark is a considered balance of forethought and spontaneity, producing concert recordings that meet exacting professional standards, yet maintain the authenticity and dynamism of the lived, live music experience.

For the occasion of our 20th anniversary, we’re highlighting collaborators whose work makes what we do visible, audible and legible to the rest of the world year after year. Behind the Scenes is a series of one-on-one talks with people who have been involved with the festival for quite some time. Their contribution extends beyond one show or one edition, they are essential to sharing what we’ve created here, and we are thrilled to have the chance to celebrate them and the years of appreciation between us.

Interview by Margaret Munchheimer
Photography by Noah Schielen

For our third Behind the Scenes interview, we sit down with Marc Broer. Recording nearly 50 concerts per year at LGW, he is responsible for our extensive recording archive, of which over 150 recordings have now been published. Most notably, a significant number of those recordings are made in his one of a kind recording van—and mixed live on the spot—so they can be broadcast immediately.

About 20 years ago now, I met an engineer that had the funds but no clients; I had the clients but no funds. So we started to work together, to build the first recording truck—now it’s a van, but the first version was a box truck. And that was very, very successful. 

Tell me about the decision to move into a vehicle. I guess mobility is the key?

These days it's very easy to hook up a laptop to a recording console, or to an amplification console in a music venue, but back then it wasn't. It was all analog, so there were many cables involved; lots of hooking up cables and cable lengths were a problem. If I could bring in a recording console that would have been big enough to record all the channels, it would have been about two meters wide and 100 kilos or something. So this wasn't feasible.

Also, if we used a portable set, [the only space] the venue could offer us was like a dressing room, with mirrors, or air-con buzzing, far from excellent recording circumstances, because we can't hear the acoustics of the room. So we couldn't use speakers; we would always have to mix on headphones, which is also not ideal, because broadcasting corporations want a live mix, mixed at the spot, to record it as soon as possible. 

Because it's news, so it should be published right away. For that, a truck or van is excellent, because you just roll to the venue, plug the cables in, place some microphones and split the microphones that are used for amplification–then we can make a nice live mix in our own controlled environment.

That solves so many issues with one solution.

Yeah, and it's always the same. I can imagine that an expensive recording studio has better acoustics than a recording truck, which is just a box on wheels treated acoustically—but it does always sound the same, and because we know the deficiencies, and the acoustical response to the music, we're used to it, so we can make great sounding mixes.

How exciting. And you mentioned that it's been 20 years now, so all of the recordings you've done for LGW were in some version of this truck?

Well, I can record one hall at a time with it, but the festival requires me to record more concerts, so I mix those afterwards in my recording and mixing studio.

Fantastic! So you mentioned there have been some updates, including the fact that you’re now in an electric van. Tell me more about the developments made over the years.

That’s true, since a year. We started with just a used box truck—an old diesel—and we just put a table in it and some loudspeakers, cut a hole in the table, and dropped a small console in it. It was a small digital console, which was really new at that time, which allowed us to record many channels at the same time. The console was too big to just carry in somewhere, but small enough to put in this truck. This was the first version, and we started to add more outboard gear: compressors, reverbs, delay units to enhance and enrich the sound, and did more for the acoustics in the room. We needed intercom equipment to talk with people in the venue, radios to talk with the assistants, things like that. Some nice furniture for producers, guest engineers; so it became more and more professional. And suddenly we were recording big, big gigs here in the Netherlands. There was a lot of work, and we recorded many, many great concerts.

Then I found out that all recordings that we were used to–all the hits from back in the day–were recorded with analog equipment, and we had a small digital modern mixer that sounded very bare, clean and pristine, but not warm and engaging.

I was faster because there are buttons for all the functions. In the early digital consoles, there’s just a small screen so you really have to dive into menus. It takes time. A big console has sliders and buttons for every function, so even without looking, I could mix and just feel the music and push it to where it needed to be.

It was a big improvement. Then the next step was: the connection between the venue and the truck. It used to be with very thick copper cables that could be extended for about 5075 meters; if they were any longer, the sound quality would suffer. So I started using optical fiber for the connection, so the console was still analog, the sound was still analog, but the connection was digital. In the meantime, all the venue equipment was also digital, so it was convenient to have a digital transport to the truck. Then we’d go back to analog, mix analog, and—strangely enough—record that digitally again, because digital was the standard then. But making the sound was analog.

So cool, this constant search for the right relationship between the two, to maintain what's best about each one, and what each really has to offer. And not just stopping with the digital, because that's what's available and that's what everyone else is doing, but also going back to try and understand: What will we miss if we leave out analog equipment? What is it that we can't actually get from the digital experience? And then fine-tuning the balance between the two.

That's exactly what it is, you understand it very well. 

I love that, because LGW has also been doing something very similar over 20 years- I’ve really watched that change up close, and for me, one of the most interesting parts is that the festival draws large numbers–when you think that it’s probably 20,000 people over four days–but it still maintains a small format by being indoors, across many small venues, so you still have that feeling of a club show. It’s really that balance you get from the intimacy of a small scale setting, as well as the ability to do something experimental… I don’t think that's actually possible, on a stadium-sized stage.

Oh, absolutely, you're right, they really found a niche. I'm very proud of them. Sometimes I find that I’ve recorded a very heavy metal concert, for example, and then in the break between two concerts they play Erik Satie as the music in between. That's fantastic, because I see these guys in black clothes looking around, saying “What's this wonderful music?”

What are some of the other things that you associate with LGW? Are there any particular shows or memories, impressions that you associate with the LGW experience; like what it is that's happening there versus maybe other music programming or other music events?

The variety, that's unique, I believe. I record many different kinds of festivals, and they all seem to concentrate on one genre. Perhaps not North Sea Jazz Festival, which I recorded as well, but many concerts or festivals are just jazz or just blues or just pop, and LGW is unique in how broad their programming is. 

And I find, if I switch from one room to another to record, that's a challenge for me, for my profession. Because many sound engineers are also specialized. There's a big difference between people who record classical music and what they call “lichte muziek”, (light music) which is frowned upon sometimes from the classical perspective. But I think it's a strength to be able to appreciate all these musical styles and to be able to record them as well.

I think I can bring specialization from one corner to another, which is so necessary, especially at LGW, because sometimes it is Satie, or one guy playing the piano, or a concert like Anoushka Shankar’s, where suddenly there are 30 violins and some instruments we only occasionally see on Dutch stages.

In the room, there's the amplification; that helps, of course, but also distorts the actual sound, which would be present without amplification. When you're recording, you're getting this chance to zoom in on the important elements of a concert. But again, it's only my view, my vision on this concert at this moment. So it's a big honor that LGW trusts me to do this, because it's just one single guy's view on how something should sound. 

It is a representation of how it was to be in that room, but it's also a curated representation. In a way, has it been cleaned up a bit to maximize the effect?

Absolutely. But there are strict limits for me: I don't do auto tuning or things like that. I don't do any editing of small mistakes, it's a live mix, so what they played is what you get. But I do influence how it sounds, like if a microphone isn't sufficient or right for an instrument. If they brought the microphone or the venue provided the microphone, and it doesn't sound good for me, I need to tweak it until it does. So I'm distorting the truth, but the truth is if it's an inferior microphone, well, that’s the freedom I take…

On the day that I'm recording, there are many, many things happening at the same time, and I concentrate on the details. The next day, if I'm playing back the concert and I just hear this beautiful music, then for me that's the job well done—that's what I want to have. 

If something is sticking out, poking out, and I think, “Oh, that sounds electrical”, or it sounds distorted, or it's too loud, too soft, too close, too far, then I didn't do my job right. But if only the music remains, well, then I'm happy. But no auto tune.

What is that based on, exactly?

So what happens if you're attending a concert and there's a jazz singer giving a beautiful performance, but some notes sound a little off-key? It’s not that bad, it's life, and they're human, you know? But they can get annoyed by this little mistake, and ask us to fix this note. You can do that with auto tune, just pitch up or down a little bit. Then again, this is how it was performed. This is how it sounded.. So, unless it's a special request, we prefer not to ‘correct’ things.

What kind of a team do you work with? Surely you’re not doing this all by yourself, right?

It's a team of two people per venue, per room; one is in the van, recording and mixing, and the other assisting on stage to make sure the connections are made and everything is working properly.

Sometimes, when a band is traveling with their own sound engineer, they're really used to their own equipment, and we only get the split—so all the separate signals—and that's it. And sometimes they're so used to their own sound engineer and their own mix that they don't trust us to create our own broadcast mix, and they really want us to use their mix, which is a shame. I can imagine if they're using really modern digital gear–especially in pop music, it's so sophisticated–they just press the next button after each song, and the console jumps to the next settings, so it's pre-programmed. They really want to guard their sound, they want the live recording to sound exactly like the album. It is what it is; that's happening more and more, but mostly during pop concerts. But I'm digressing…

Do you think that's because the average listener today is just more used to a heavily digital experience, so they actually expect it to sound the same every time?

I think many great rock stars are... It's a curse that they have to play their hits over and over and over again, and the fans want them to sound the same. Which is completely the opposite from, for example, jazz concerts, where improvisation is key. 

Same for me: If they're having an excellent solo, which is different than the last time, [I’m] happy that it's recorded that way. Perhaps I can bring something to this equation, you know? But they want to play it safe and have it exact and that's what auto tune does as well.

The difference is about what you define as a successful or a valuable musical moment, I guess. If you want to lean into the authenticity, and experience the music as it's happening, versus, If your assumption is that the successful experience is one that can recreate one particular recording. This is a bit like the conversation about analog and digital: I feel with streaming, this begins to dominate people's expectation of music; which makes it in some way more essential to be able to see an artist live, and actually see what they sound like.

It should sound different than the records, right?

And this paradox continues: Sometimes we only get a stereo mix from the front of house console. Just two plugs left and right, that's it, that's what we need to do, and then add ambient sound. And that's a paradox, because on the one hand, the producers and the band managers need to be impressed by the great equipment, the big speakers, the big console, and all the prestige that's bringing; and on the other hand, they're only allowing us to use a live mix from their digital live console, where everything is pre-programmed, and where the band can sound as good as their last record. Which can be great if the fans want it, but there's hardly any craftsmanship required anymore. 

And sometimes there are bands traveling with their own engineer, who comes to me and says, "Wow, look at this, you've got the real ‘this’ compressor, or the real ‘that’ reverb, I've got it too. It's a plugin, it's on my laptop.” And that's 20 euros, maybe. These compressors are, for example, 5000 euros apiece; it's high-end equipment. So they are very impressed, and they believe I can do the job, because I have this stuff.

Also this van that I have is exactly what LGW asks me to do. That’s how it’s evolved. Twenty years ago, I never would have thought I’d have to build this. It’s evolving every day, every single day.

There are zero emission zones now in the big cities; already a few years ago, I wasn't allowed to enter the cities anymore. So I was forced to buy an electric van, very expensive and limited in how much gear I can carry, because the battery itself is already 500 kilos or something. 

So I had to redesign a lean and mean recording machine, and this is what it has become…stripped of anything unnecessary, only the essentials are on board. But it's quite a bit of gear, and it's now fit to record any concert as big as necessary. We're always prepared to record. We can mix and even broadcast live, even wirelessly.

So we're independent—off-grid is perhaps the term for that—and that feels very good. We're prepared for anything more or less.

A few of the concert recordings have been released as albums. That must also be wonderful for you?

It is, yeah. The first one was Selda Bağcan, the Turkish singer; very popular lady. I hadn't heard it before, but we recorded them in the old truck, all analog. She has a huge following and she decided to release this, on vinyl even, which was an honor. 

I was preparing to send them the multi-track recording that I also made, with all the tracks separate, so it could be mixed. But they said, “No, we love your mix; we're putting it directly on vinyl—everybody is happy with it.” 

Wow, this is, this really is an honor. Because, of course, there are things that could be mixed better. Of course, there are things I missed, or they were intended differently—louder, softer, left, right, front, rear, or just in tune—but they didn't care, they loved the mix and they loved the excitement that was captured during the concerts, and they just put it on vinyl, there you go.

Are there any other shows that really stand out for you in your memory, or were personally significant for you?

Yeah, I remember the Makaya McCraven concert in the Grand Hall. He's a great drummer and I love recording that type of music. The same goes for Meshell Ndegeocello. I love her. She's fantastic. I really enjoyed recording and mixing that show. This is the essence for me, musically. What she does, everything is excellent, I believe. So, I try to honor that by mixing it as well as I can.

Also, Lightning Bolt. Have you seen this?

Of course! But tell me about Lightning Bolt for you?

Well… I think this is the loudest concert I ever recorded.

We're of course friends with many of the stage engineers at LGW, and the story goes that Lightning Bolt just kept pointing up–looking at their wedges, their monitors–it should be louder, louder, louder. And finally, some of the sound engineers left because of their ears. It was just too loud. Not allowed these days, of course. But the gig was received very well. The fans were ecstatic, and the recording also went very well. 

And this is something fun: I didn't have the luxury when I recorded for TV, but these days there are reactions to the YouTube videos, so I can see what the fans think of the performance, but also of the recording. About Lightning Bolt they said: "Well, this is one of the best recordings of Lightning Bolt we've heard so far. It's even better than an album, sometimes.” I mean, I'm trying not to brag, but it's reassuring to see that when I record Satie, that's a different vibe than when I record Lightning Bolt! 

But I enjoy the contrast between the two. It's fantastic, and if they are both happy with the work I do, and I'm happy too, then that's a great day.

Do you ever get a chance to step in and just see a show? Probably not, if you're working on 50 recordings…

No, not many times, no. Sometimes it happens, but as soon as I leave the van, I have this feeling that I'm missing something. For example, during two shows in the same room, there's usually 45 minutes. I need that time to reset my ears. I'm concentrating, so my ears are getting tired anyway, so I need those 45 minutes to reset, so I shouldn't go to concerts where the volume is much louder. And I need to reset the equipment, type in all the channel lists, like for example, are there 10 channels for drums or 12? What's the next setup on stage? So I then have a radio conversation with my assistant on stage, who tries to find that information. Shall we prepare, have a quick drink or sandwich or something? And then the next line check starts because they roll in one band and roll out the other bands on rolling risers, so it’s very fast. 

So, as soon as I step out of the van, I have this feeling that I'm missing things; I should be there. Which makes it a long day in this van. But, it's worthwhile. I love it. And then we'll have a beer afterwards.