Murray Allen was a musician first. A child prodigy. Played all the reeds in a bunch of Big Bands. He could arrange. Did as many as 25 sessions a week, back when sessions had four or five saxes!

But among Murray's many gifts was his ability to see over the horizon. He saw the guitar blowing the Big Bands away, and set about to marry his two passions: music and physics. Before you knew it, he was mixing. And building rooms. And designing gear. And along with a few pioneers, pretty much inventing the independent recording studio business. He introduced digital audio and EdNet and surround to Chicago and beyond; and helped build SPARS.

From my first day on the Grammy telecast set, he shared and collaborated, and was a genuine mentor and friend to me. And to many, many others in our world.

I spoke to Murray a number of times during his last month. And let me tell you, he was pissed. He had work to do!
— Hank Neuberger, owner, Springboard Productions

Phil Ramone has always been known for his great production and engineering ability. He's also famous for designing one of the best studios in New York, and possibly the world, A&R Recording studios. He's been a teacher and a mentor to countless young engineers, including myself. Phil has always been on the cutting edge with new technology; always the first to give something new a chance. Countless manufacturers came to Phil to beta test their products. I can still remember Ray Dolby bringing in his original 301 noise-reduction unit for Phil to try. He was the first to try satellite technology to link studios around the world and record master vocals.

With at least 50 million records sold as a producer, he proved that engineers could be more than geeks. In the '60s, he wore apple seeds around his neck and owned a pretty good baseball team. To this day, he is still my mentor and teacher.
— Elliot Scheiner, producer/engineer

Early one morning in 1982, I walked into Bob Ludwig's room at Masterdisk to master an album I had produced by an Australian band called The Church. When I arrived, Bob was just running off a ref for a project he had worked on the day before, and suggested that I relax on his couch (between the mastering desk and his large Altec monitors) and have a listen. As I had just finished mixing The Church's nice, melodic, strummy album at 4 a.m., I had gotten very little sleep so I figured, great, I'll just catch a few more winks before we start.

Next thing I knew, I was practically blasted right off the couch by the cannons of AC/DC's “For Those About to Rock.” At this point, besides being fully awake, I was wondering how he was going to transition his brain (and mine) from an assault like that to The Church, but needless to say, as always, he did an absolutely flawless job on two records that couldn't have been more different!
— Bob Clearmountain, mixer extraordinaire

Peter's infectious enthusiasm for making music is nourished by his great imagination, endless experimentation and his involvement with many different types of music. Through his deep engagement with the technologies of making and distributing music, he has contributed many valuable insights to equipment designers over the years, as well as investing directly in enterprises such as Syco Systems, OD2, SSL, Exabre and We7.

His vision of what a recording environment could be was realized at Real World Studios. Artists who have been lucky enough to record there have enjoyed the innovative approach to acoustics and air conditioning, the massive Big Room, the intimate Work Room, Peter's leafy Writing Room and the uniquely supportive atmosphere.

His influence extends beyond the music industry, and his involvement with WITNESS (he was co-founder) and more recently THE ELDERS are two of the more high-profile examples of his extraordinary contribution.
— Antony David, managing director, Solid State Logic

There have been so many articles written about George, most of them about his achievements in the engineering world. But I want you to attach a person to that EQ: George makes a great cup of tea. He really loves the crossword puzzle in The New York Times. He can use the Heisenberg uncertainty principle to justify a panning decision. I have never seen him speed, though he doesn't seem like the kind of guy who wouldn't. He understands more about teaching someone to teach themselves than anyone I have ever met. He is a wicked ping-pong player. He is one of the most thoughtful and caring parents in the world and there is nothing he would not do for his son. He really should have patented his parametric EQ and moving fader designs. If he was single again, he would be an awesome roommate; he never leaves dishes in the sink and always cleans up the bathroom after himself. He's a real class act there.

And while he is one of the most profoundly loyal friends you could ever have, never — ever — let him order wine for you in Berlin.
— Nathaniel Kunkel, engineer

Without a doubt, if George Martin was the fifth Beatle, then Chris Thomas was the fifth Pretender. He was hands-on in all aspects of the recording, whereas a lot of producers produce from their phone in the car. He was there for every moment of whatever was going on, directing either me or the musicians.

When it came to her vocals [on Learning to Crawl], Chrissie was great so long as nobody else was in the room. The band, everybody, was kicked out…Only Chris Thomas and myself were in the control room while Chrissie sang, and he'd have to coax a performance out of her. Chris was all about that. On a vocal day we might sit around for hours and drink tea and have lunch and chat about everything other than what we were about to do, and then at a certain point — which was part of Chris' gift as a producer — he would say, “Okay, how about now?”
— Steve Churchyard, engineer (from Sound On Sound, 9/05)

Sixteen Grammy^® Awards, (nine for Best Engineered Album, Non-Classical), two Latin Grammys, three TEC Awards and induction into the TEC Hall of Fame, and those are just the numbers.

Al is an audio industry national treasure who's hard-earned all of his accolades. The man is always working, but he also always makes time to give back to his friends and to the industry. Of course, it helps that he's so darn efficient and a man of his word. If Al says he'll be there, he will. Al loves art, food, Italian leather loafers and a good joke. Here's what other engineers have said about him: “Naturally musical with amazing ears,” “Intuitive — and he gets the big picture,” “Always goes the extra mile,” “The consummate live engineer — nobody can touch him!” “Al is a class act,” “Simply the best — and he doesn't take crap from anybody!”
— Maureen Droney, president, Recording Academy P&E Wing

Terry on Jimmy: I have so much respect for Jimmy as a person first, a musician second. This respect allows me to give him his freedom to do what he feels is best for his life, and in turn I get that same respect. And I think the freedom is what keeps us in a great partnership. In any partnership — a business partnership or a relationship or just a friend — it's never 50-50. It's whatever it needs to be, and we've always had the ability to adjust ourselves. We were always able to do what we felt was best — I can't say right or wrong, because right or wrong are fleeting; that's a moving target.
— Terry Lewis

Jimmy on Terry: Terry is the most unselfish person I know. For 35 years, he's been like the big brother I never had. He is a motivator. He doesn't take “no” for an answer. He has a really good business mind. A lot of times, I'll work on a project by myself, he'll work on a project by himself, but it's always about getting each other's stamp of approval or adding that last little thing. I always tell people it's like somebody built an ice cream sundae, but you need that cherry on top. It's not about my way or your way; it's the best way.
— Jimmy Jam

In 1980, while at USC film school, I tried to be Ben Burtt. I was creating sounds for a student film about a TV game show and didn't want to use a synthesizer because I heard how for Star Wars Ben Burtt made those cool sound effects from real sounds. And I wanted to be cool. But I couldn't for the life of me figure out how he did it, and in the end resorted to a synthesizer. Soon after, my sound career began when Lucasfilm called USC asking for “another Ben Burtt.” Luckily, they didn't know how badly I had already failed at that. Years later, for Star Wars: Episode I, I was amazed when Ben made a video screen sound effect in the style of Flash Gordon by recording my wife playing her flute. Ben combines an aficionado's knowledge of film history with a knack for twisting real sounds into fantastic ones. After 25 years of working with him, I've learned that there never will be another Ben Burtt.
— Gary Rydstrom, Oscar-winning sound designer, Pixar director

Once upon a time, Roger Nichols turned his back on a lucrative career as a nuclear engineer, turning audio knobs instead, and the world's been a better-sounding place ever since. From his decades of work with Steely Dan, John Denver and other artists, Roger proved his production prowess while stretching the limits of technology. When the available gear couldn't do the job, he'd invent solutions, such as the 1978 Wendel sampling drum computer or the Rane PaqRat, which transformed a lowly ADAT or DA-88 recorder into a 24-bit mastering deck.

Over the years, tracks Roger engineered (such as Donald Fagen's The Nightfly) became established as standards for speaker demos in audio showrooms and AES booths — in either case, some pretty tough customers. These days, Roger leads a far more restful existence — running a mastering studio, serving on the board for the Florida chapter of NARAS and developing plug-ins for his Roger Nichols Digital company. Doesn't this guy ever sleep?
—
George Petersen, Mix executive editor

With a staggering body of work, including memorable scores for such films as Rain Man, The Lion King and Gladiator, Hans Zimmer is one of the most brilliant and prolific composers of our time, earning a best music Oscar and two Grammys. In addition to these top accolades, he is a world-class audio technologist and visionary trend-setter. As a fledgling assistant music editor at Media Ventures in the mid-'90s, I watched Hans in amazement and I developed an appreciation for how he ushered in the use of custom orchestral samples, which at the time required dizzying arrays of hardware samplers. Then with the advent of software samplers and high-quality sample libraries, Hans legitimized the use of this technology, resulting in the democratization of music composition for many aspiring musicians and composers around the world. Lastly, he is a thoughtful, generous and caring mentor who has nurtured the careers of many composers through the spirit of collaboration — all of this makes him a modern legacy and an inspiration to us all.
— Michel Henein, audio technology guru

The hardcore messages from the streets didn't sit well with the likes of Tipper Gore, but whether fretting mothers liked it or not, Dr. Dre changed the entire hip hop landscape. While his voice was distinctive, it was Dre's production skills and catchy tracks that hooked a legion of fans and sparked thousands of young-gun producers to follow. Creating the blueprint for gangsta rap beginning with N.W.A., Dre continued his production legacy under the umbrellas of his Death Row and Aftermath labels, and the signature G-funk style and rolling synth melodies of The Chronic and Snoop Dogg's Doggystyle cemented his rule as the king of hip hop. Even after Dre had hit icon status, he took it a step further, finding unknown talent and launching the careers of Eminem, 50 Cent and The Game into the stratosphere, as well as keeping Jay-Z, Busta Rhymes, Gwen Stefani and Eve riding high. Dre keeps up a steady burn of studio work, never giving up his loyalty to the hip hop game.
— Kylee Swenson, editor, Remix

To me, the records Bowen cut with Hank Jr. are as timeless as Patsy Cline and Brenda Lee. Those are the records that made Hank Jr. the superstar he became. Hank was around for years cutting records, and no one took him seriously, but Bowen cut these records that sonically were amazing. He pulled songs out of Hank Jr. that no one would have believed he could write. Those records changed a lot of people's lives with the way he approached cutting them. Bowen had blind faith. He just refused to play it safe, and those records were amazing.

He challenged me to do that kind of thing with Steve Earle. He said, “You cut me one thing where I can understand him and make me like him, and we'll consider it.” And I did, and he said, “T, that's what I'm talking about right there!” I don't think any other label head in town would have been as supportive as Bowen.
— Tony Brown, producer/music executive

My father has the greatest work ethic of anyone I know. In the field, his job is to capture whatever occurs onstage to tape, and there are no excuses allowed, no room for ego and no time for flailing about. He shows up, gets the job done and goes home, often after an 18-hour day. My father takes great pride in what he does, and rightly so because there are few engineers out there who can handle the pressure of a live recording gig with such aplomb.

I started working for my dad when I was 13, polishing the wheels on the truck and taking out the garbage. Gradually, as I displayed a sense of responsibility, he taught me how to solder, understand signal flow, get a mix together. When I went off to work in non-wheeled studios, I got to return the favor a bit by teaching him the inner workings of Flying Faders and the latest studio trickery. We are better friends now than we have ever been, and I could not have asked for a better teacher or mentor.
— Ryan Hewitt, engineer/mixer

The first project I mastered for Bob was a 12-inch dance mix of the Stones' “Miss You.” I was at Masterdisk, and Bob's reputation as a young hotshot mixer preceded him. I put up his mix and — holy cow! — I'd never heard anything like this before. In my opinion, Bob created a whole new way of mixing, and there was a period of time in the late '70s, early '80s where every engineer tried to match his style. Bob was chief engineer at Power Station when they opened, and they only had Altec 604E monitors. Bob found these NS-10Ms, so he brought them in, thought they were a little bright and put a Kimwipe^® over the tweeter and mixed hit after hit. Engineers trying to copy him also bought the Yamahas and it became a de facto standard! When I think about Bob, the word “consistency” comes to mind. Time after time, excellence! When I get a project from Bob, I know it will be a pleasure. He is amazing, and now that he has his own room at home, his mixes have taken on another level of that sharp focus. People are still trying to follow Bob.
— Bob Ludwig, mastering engineer/owner, Gateway Mastering

It was the equivalent of hitting the engineering lottery when I started working for David Foster in the mid-'80s. He had opened his first professional home studio and just earned his fourth and fifth Grammys. Working exclusively for David over the next 10 years (and freelance ever since), I discovered the amazing genius behind David's deep passion for record making, as he deservedly added another nine statues to his collection. It's very clear to me that my career was launched by walking on the shoulders of a giant.

Choices bombard each day in the life of making music, and David is a master at understanding the power to create without getting bogged down, second-guessing his instincts. He listens with his heart and has the gift of inspiring artists to give their absolute best. David often remarked that getting a record or performance up to the 95-percent level of greatness was fairly easy, but the real magic happens in that last five percent. That's where hit records are born and recording artists rise to the level of superstar. Thanks, David, for all that you have given. It is more than anyone could have ever dreamed of.
— Dave Reitzas, mixer/engineer/producer

I took a recording class from Bruce in Chicago before there were recording schools and before I had a studio job. At some point, he moved to California to work with Quincy, and a little while later I moved to L.A. as well, and immediately got a job at Westlake Studios. Three days after I'm in California, I'm busy. And who comes in, and who do I start assisting for? Swedien and Quincy.

I ended up being Bruce's assistant for five or six years and it was wonderful. I sat behind him on Michael Jackson's Off the Wall album, with Lena Horne, with Rufus and Chaka Khan, with Quincy on The Dude — dozens of records — and Bruce was always really generous with information, always sharing about how to do something, why he was doing something — and not just recording, but life lessons, too.

If I have any kind of success now, it really is directly proportional to the love and attention and education I got sitting behind Bruce Swedien.
— Ed Cherney, producer/engineer

Before we made our first album, Roy came and saw us in a snowstorm at a gig where there were like 12 people in the audience at this college dance, and he wasn't bothered by it at all. He was all, “Hello, my dears! How'd you like to come to England and make a record?”

Working with Roy was my first experience recording in a major studio, and I learned so much from him about layering and the big background vocal sound he's so famous for. The great thing with Roy is, he was so over the top, but he didn't so much worry about rules or restrictions. His credo was if it sounds good, it's good, and if the needle was buried but it sounded great, so be it. There's no halfway with Roy — it's either off or full-on.

But it was so much damn fun working with him. He was such a great guy and he kept it light, which was really a good thing for a young band.
— Elliot Easton, guitarist/singer, The Cars

Since exploding out of Minneapolis in the early '80s, Prince has been one of music's most fascinating artists: creatively restless, always shifting, chameleon-like between musical genres; never still long enough to be either fully understood or pigeonholed; turning up unannounced at tiny clubs and rocking the joint till sun-up; and slaying a Super Bowl crowd and 100 million TV viewers at once. He's always liked to do everything on his albums — even as he has hired great musicians and engineers to help him realize his vision. And those engineers and musicians understood that once everyone had cleared out of his Paisley Park studio for the night, the Purple One might very well go in alone and put down a new bass line, mess with the panning on that guitar part, maybe track a new backup vocal — or start from scratch because a brilliant new idea had come to this mercurial genius in the dark and quiet after midnight. As he once noted, “If you could go in the studio alone and come out with that, you'd do it every day, wouldn't you?” Amen.
— Blair Jackson, Mix senior editor

The wonderful thing about working with Steve Lillywhite on Naked [1988] is that he was great at bringing an excited and positive élan to the studio. This was the last studio record we did, and there was certainly some strain in the group and we didn't want to exacerbate any of that by putting people in charge of each other, so that's why we wanted an outside producer. By this point, all of us in the band had produced our own records and other people's records, so our demands on a producer were different than they were when we began. And Steve was obviously already established.

But he had this great, positive and encouraging attitude and he really knew what was on every track, which was impressive because we made it in Paris and New York and there was a lot going on musically on that record — it was a thick mélange of instruments, with a big Latin brass band on there and these interesting rhythms, yet he kept it all together somehow.
— Jerry Harrison, producer, musical mentor, former Talking Head

Elliot, to me, is the consummate professional. He works on such a wide range of styles — look what he's done with Steely Dan, Van Morrison, Natalie Cole, The Eagles and everyone — really. Elliot likes a good, natural sound; he's an organic guy. With him, it's not about tricks; it's straight-ahead recording and capturing the performance as it goes down. At the same time, he's obviously not just a traditional engineer who's set in his ways. He keeps up with technology. I love the way he uses the computer when he mixes, which is different than most people, but it's brilliant. He's got an incredible sense of balance and everything is always in the right place. He was one of the first guys to get into surround, and he's still one of the best at that.

He's timeless. The best thing I can say about him, aside from the fact that he's really funny, is if I was doing a date and I had one guy to pick, it would be Elliot.
— Al Schmitt, engineer/producer

You'd never call Tony Brown subtle, but in very few (if not always cordial) words he can tell you exactly what he wants. I've always appreciated this about Tony as it makes my job that much easier. I remember one legendary session where the musicians were congratulating each other on how great the take was when Tony got on the talkback and told them they all had their heads up their *** (or something to that meaning). He was right, of course; the original take was a wimpy, soft, jazz kind of thing, but with Tony's guidance it turned into a country hit.

Throughout Tony's career, he's been lured by pop and rock artists but he's always resisted the temptation, claiming, “I like country music.” Instead, he continues to produce some of the most relevant country records. Tony rose through the ranks at MCA Nashville to label president so that he could influence his artists' destiny and benefit them most. During his tenure, MCA/Universal became the biggest record company in Nashville; during that time, Tony produced records that have sold over 100 million copies and 105 Number One singles. He's perhaps the most respected and adored music personality in Nashville, and I'm glad to call him my friend.
— Chuck Ainlay, engineer/producer

Ken and Bill. Bill and Ken. It's hard to think of one without conjuring up the other. Like an old-school comedy duo or a made-for-TV odd couple, they created something there in New York that took on its own identity. A place where quality sound for picture — whether music or performance, drama or comedy, feature or documentary, film or television — found a home. Dance in America, Great Performances, The Metropolitan Opera and Barbara Walters' specials; Homicide, Oz and Real Sex; films like 9/11, Shut Up & Sing and Monster in a Box; cast albums for Cabaret, Chicago, Ragtime; all Grammy nominees; music specials for the Rolling Stones, Garth Brooks, Janet Jackson and The Eagles; and ADR/VO work for just about any actor you can name. We marvel at the range. We applaud the five Emmys and dozens of other awards. But we salute the fact that they are mixers, and after more than 23 years in business, in the dog-eat-dog world of New York City post, they are still kicking it out: This year, Emmy nominations for 30 Rock and The Magic Flute (Great Performances at the Met). Not a bad roll.
— Tom Kenny, Mix editorial director

Dokken. Motley Crue. X. Metallica. Poison. Alice Cooper. WASP. Ozzy. King's X. Just a taste of this producer powerhouse's impact on the hard-rock/metal world — no wonder his introduction to music was purchasing a guitar in 1962. From his early beginnings as an electronic engineer in Germany — designing and manufacturing studio/stage equipment — to building a 16-track studio in Hamburg in '79, it was a chance meeting with Don Dokken (who was touring in Germany) that brought this seminal producer to the States — specifically, L.A. After stints as a maintenance engineer at Larrabee Sound and doing live sound with Accept, Wagener truly burst onto the production scene with Dokken's Breaking the Chains, which helped firmly ensconce metal into mainstream radio play. Thousands of productions (more than 50 million copies have been sold worldwide) and a move cross-country to Nashville later, we can find Wagener sitting comfortably in his WireWorld Studio, a fully digital 5.1 surround production facility for his Double Trouble projects, which have recently included some Greatest Hits albums for Skid Row and Testament, as well as cultivating “young metal blood” from the likes of Karaoke and Hydrogyn.
— Sarah Benzuly, Mix managing editor

Jack was one of the outstanding innovators in the classical recording industry, even before his early digital recordings and all. He has a fantastic ear, which is, of course, paramount in this business, balancing-wise; and from the very get-go, he analyzed the Music Hall in Cincinnati and how he would mike the orchestra and make it sound its best. He essentially used a pair of mics exactly over my head and then a couple on either side, trying to achieve for the listener what the orchestra sounds like to the conductor because I'm working for an absolute balance. And once he set the dials — the highs and lows — he never really touched them again; all the balancing had to be done by the conductor, and that's how it's supposed to be.

Our first recording was our landmark “1812 Overture,” which has sold over 800,000 copies. In all the years I've known him, I've never seen him lose his temper; he's very easy-going. If there's pressure, you don't see it on Jack Renner.
— Erich Kunzel, conductor, Cincinnati Pops Orchestra

Music is Rick Rubin's overriding passion, the filter he sees the world through, resulting in landmark albums with Run-DMC, the Beastie Boys, the Red Hot Chili Peppers and more. His shotgun marriage of rock and rap — Aerosmith and Run-DMC's smash collaboration on “Walk This Way” — revitalized Aerosmith's stalled career and started a revolution in rock itself. His continued involvement with Tom Petty and Johnny Cash helped keep those artists vital and current. He thinks nothing of working with Slayer and Danzig on one hand and Donovan, Lucinda Williams or the Dixie Chicks on the other. And after all this success, Rubin still does hang in ratty rehearsal halls, not letting his bands near a proper studio until the songs are great. He's an enigma, a cipher, but his love of music is as clear as day.
— Maureen Droney, president, Recording Academy P&E Wing

In 1982, I was at Reeves Sound Shop on East 44th Street in New York City working on Access, the first digital editing system for feature films. We needed an editor to cut dialog on 35mm mag. This guy walks in wearing dirty white bucks, jeans and an Elvis Costello T-shirt. He was completely uninterested in the million-dollar editing system; his eye went straight to my Oberheim OB-8 sitting on a coffee table. He said his name was Skip Lievsay and he was a bass player. We hit it off right away.

Skip went on to work with Marty Scorsese on After Hours; then came The Color of Money. With each new film, Skip broke with convention: stereo Foley on Last Temptation of Christ. Editing on a music system (Synclavier). He continued to question how things were done and convince people that his way was better. This would be meaningless if it weren't for the great-sounding films he had supervised and mixed.

The strongest influence Skip has had on me isn't how to marry a dog bark with a chin sock, but how to fish with a fly. Though we have spent countless hours creating together, we haven't spent enough time on the flats trying to catch bonefish.
— Eugene Gearty, film sound editor

No list of country or rock music's most influential producers would be complete without Robert John “Mutt” Lange. His 1980 production of AC/DC's landmark Back In Black was arguably one of the greatest (and finest-sounding) hard rock albums ever released. From there, Lange generated an unstoppable series of mega-Platinum AOR rock album staples with AC/DC, Def Leppard, The Cars, Foreigner and more. When Lange arrived in Nashville to produce a little-known female artist, Shania Twain, the Music Row buzz was generally skeptical that he could deliver an album on a Nashville-biz schedule and with a Nashville-biz budget that would fly on country radio. But Lange gave Twain (who is also his wife) a load of hits that drew much from the song forms that had turned Def Leppard into AOR standards. Before you could say “arena rock,” Nashville was cranking out records that paid tribute to Lange's production vision. To date, 111 million albums have been sold sporting Lange's production credit. And his meticulousness to achieving hard-hitting sonic perfection is the stuff of industry legend. Not bad for a guy named Mutt.
— Rick Clark, Mix Nashville editor

Brian really opened my eyes and showed me how you could manipulate sound. In those days [early '80s], engineers were very conventional in their approach to sessions. You recorded everything as dry and flat as you could and then got everything right in the mix. But Brian had little respect for that theory, and everything he did went to tape already very manipulated and treated, and I thought that was a really interesting approach to things. So we had this way of using a 36-channel console, where from channel 24 to 36 would be effects returns, and they'd be bused not into stereo, but into two channels all the time so at any given moment I could print effects very quickly. At the time, it seemed like a very extreme idea because back then people only really monitored effects. So if something sounded good with an effect, within two seconds I could get it down on tape.
— Daniel Lanois, producer, musician (in Mix, February 1990)

I had been working at Townhouse in London as the newest assistant. In other words, I was making tea! Apparently, I was very hyper and had lots of questions about “the art of recording.” I had been put on a few sessions but was told to stay very quiet and never got any of my questions answered. Then out of the blue I got put on a session with Steve Lillywhite and Hugh, who were making an LP with one of my favorite bands, XTC. The assistant had gone ill, and I was the replacement. I couldn't believe my luck!

Not only was Hugh an amazing engineer, but he also took time after the session to answer all of my questions: mic positions, how gear worked, etc. He then asked me to be the assistant on his first proper gig as a producer, on what became Phil Collins' Face Value. I'll never forget sitting at the back of the room in Studio 2. Hugh had just gotten Phil a huge drum sound for a little song called “In the Air Tonight” and he signaled for me to push Record. We waited patiently as the song rolled on. About two minutes in, not a note had been played, and we both were thinking, when is Phil going to play something? Then suddenly, du-dum, du-dum, du-dum, du-dum dum DUMM! I almost fell off my chair! Need I say more?
— Nick Launay, engineer/producer