MC: Do you like producing vocals?
Reed: I love producing vocals. That’s another thing that requires diplomacy and being a bit of both a coach and a therapist. That’s what allows me to emotionally connect with the artists that come through here.
MC: What processes do you use?
Reed: Maybe they keep saying a word wrong or a melody that’s not quite right. Don’t even focus on that. Get them to the point where they’re comfortable, and once they’re comfortable you fix the technicalities, and then when they’re delivering the line perfectly give them a breather and have them come back to it to get the emotion right. It’s like taking a switchback trail up a mountain. It takes these steps rather than right off the bat saying, “You’re doing this wrong.”
MC: Do you maintain visual contact with vocalists when they sing?
Reed: The way the studio is set up, I can see them. But I have them deliberately facing out the window; we get these incredible sunsets over the ridge that they’re staring directly into. I think it’s more important for them to do that and find themselves in their own space as opposed to feeling like someone is watching them, or they’re performing for an audience. I prefer for them to connect with whatever the feeling is inside rather than to impress me.
MC: On the solo project that you’re preparing, the first song that we hear, “Express Myself,” you say, “I don’t want to wait to express myself.” It would seem important for you, at this juncture, to tap into absolute personal honesty.
Reed: It really is. That’s the one card I never played. What was really going on with me. There was a lot going on behind the scenes nobody cares to hear, nobody wants to hear, and I started to realize that leaving out the bad stuff makes it less fulfilling to make the art. It feels so good to get on record. People have been saying that since the dawn of time––it feels therapeutic.
MC: You are now the head of a record label: Nice Life Recording Co. Did you ever envision that happening?
Reed: I really never did. I grew up being a fan of indie labels in the sense that you’re part of a scene or an underground community. Labels have sounds and styles. Growing up in the Bay Area, Lookout Records was so important to me. Later, Saddle Creek, Matador and eventually XL. I’ve always been a fan of the cultures that great indies were able to produce, but I never thought it was something I would do.
MC: So what does Nice Life Recording Co. do that mirrors your personal philosophy?
Reed: I got to this point in my career where I knew that there was good shit being made that wasn’t being properly delivered to the masses. And also there are voices missing. There aren’t enough angry voices; passionate, pissed off voices, not enough voices talking about self-love and self-acceptance. So a lot of the aims with the label come from my political persuasion, not just politics, but also more socio-political gender politics.
MC: You’re part of an interesting collection of pop writers in Los Angeles.
Reed: Being successful is great, I don’t take it for granted, but being successful around people you share your deepest secrets with, when you see them accept an award you feel genuine happiness for them. That’s the stuff that makes being a part of this L.A. community of oddball pop writers and producers really sweet.
MC: Since we first met you early in your Los Angeles days, we’re pretty familiar with your background as an artist in bands, and in Wallpaper. But we didn’t know about you washing dishes at the Gap corporate headquarters.
Reed: It was literally an eight-hour shift of non-stop dish washing. ... And you start thinking about things like, “Man, who ever keeps getting the eggs with the ketchup I can’t get off the plates?” Getting bitter about people’s food choices, because it would keep me there longer. I was in there starting to write songs and plot what my next step was.
When you’re doing a job like that you’re angry the whole way through, thinking, “I’m better than this, I have skills, I’ve been working toward something and this isn’t how my story ends.”
MC: Did it give you power?
Reed: I started coming to L.A. once a month. I would rent a car or do a cheap Oakland to Burbank Southwest flight. I would take as many meetings and write as many songs as I could, then go back up. I would be doing the dishwashing, thinking of concepts, titles, hooks and strategy in general. It was the beginning of the entrepreneurial phase of my life. Wallpaper had hit a ceiling in the Bay Area, which was also why I needed to think about another option. A local band can only get so big before things start unraveling. I thought if I could be one of the biggest bands in L.A., we would have a chance of being one of the biggest bands in the world.
