upon is that an album like
Paul’s Boutique
would be all but impossible to make today. “You could do it as an art project, if somebody gave you a couple million dollars to make a record like this,” muses Mike Simpson. “But commercially, I don’t think you could ever do it again.”
Yet that, says Matt Dike, was part of the plan from the beginning. “I remember having this discussion with Yauch, and him saying, ‘Let’s just go completely over the top and sample everything. Let’s make this the nail in the coffin for sampling,’” Dike remembers. “And that’s kind of what happened. Some of those tracks are total plagarism of the worst kind, but that’s what’s funny about that record. It’s like ‘Hey, we’re ripping you off!’”
“Sometimes,” he adds with a laugh, “those guys could be pretty profound.”
* * *
After making the rounds of the holiday party circuit, 19 the band would return to the Record Plant in early 1989 to finish
Paul’s Boutique
. The sixteen-track collages would be spread across twenty-four tracks, the Beasties would polish and record their final vocals and the album would be mixed.
The seven collaborators were joined by an eighth during these weeks: Allen Abrahamson, an assistant engineer at the Record Plant. Little has been said about Abrahamson, and some fans have doubtless wondered whether he was simply another alter ego for Adam Yauch, aka Nathaniel Hornblower. But not only was Abrahamson a real person, Mike Simpson says, he was a valuable contributor—especially to the Beastie Boys’ inexperienced production team.
If Tim Carr had been ready to breathe a sigh of relief as
Paul’s Boutique
drew to a close, it would have to wait. “They went to the Record Plant. And the first thing they did was, Mike D called a barroom rental place, and he got a large-screen projection television, a Ping-Pong table, a foosball table, an air hockey table and three pinball machines,” he says. “If they could have got a bowling alley, they would have. And they took over the big room at the Record Plant, which is there to record symphonies and Led Zeppelin, and it’s filled with all these games. And Mike says, ‘Yo Tim, it was a deal. The more stuff I got, the better deal they gave me!’ So now, I can’t even bring anyone from the company down.”
Carr would grudgingly admit that the band “did set up vocal booths in front of all that shit, and they did do the work. But every time you went there, somebody was playing foosball or Ping-Pong.” For Mike D, however, the games were a declaration of independence, after being forced torecord
Licensed to Ill
at Rick Rubin’s favorite studio, Chung King, in New York’s Chinatown. “We’d be like going into this bummy studio at two in the morning,” Diamond said in 1994. “And then all of a sudden we were here, going into these fancy studios where you pay like $15,000 a day. And we’d just go in there and play Ping-Pong. Seriously.” 20
Because most of the hard decisions and technical tweaks had already been made at Matt Dike’s apartment, recording would go relatively smoothly. ‘“Car Thief’ was a challenge, because we had to work in a different room with a new SSL board,” recalls Caldato. “We were also experimenting with some new substance for inspiration, to complete the vibe of the song. It worked!”
Dike, however, was never happy with the rerecorded results of this song, or any others. “I think the tracks we recorded at my apartment are better—they’re punchier,” he contends. Part of the problem, Dike believes, is that many of the original vinyl samples were later sourced from CD.
Some additional tracking would take place elsewhere in Hollywood, at Ocean Way Recording. There, “Looking Down the Barrel of a Gun”—one of the only tunes on the album to feature real instruments—was put to tape. A rough mix of “Egg Man” that would eventually make the album was completed at Ocean Way as well. And a
Paul’s Boutique
would be all but impossible to make today. “You could do it as an art project, if somebody gave you a couple million dollars to make a record like this,” muses Mike Simpson. “But commercially, I don’t think you could ever do it again.”
Yet that, says Matt Dike, was part of the plan from the beginning. “I remember having this discussion with Yauch, and him saying, ‘Let’s just go completely over the top and sample everything. Let’s make this the nail in the coffin for sampling,’” Dike remembers. “And that’s kind of what happened. Some of those tracks are total plagarism of the worst kind, but that’s what’s funny about that record. It’s like ‘Hey, we’re ripping you off!’”
“Sometimes,” he adds with a laugh, “those guys could be pretty profound.”
* * *
After making the rounds of the holiday party circuit, 19 the band would return to the Record Plant in early 1989 to finish
Paul’s Boutique
. The sixteen-track collages would be spread across twenty-four tracks, the Beasties would polish and record their final vocals and the album would be mixed.
The seven collaborators were joined by an eighth during these weeks: Allen Abrahamson, an assistant engineer at the Record Plant. Little has been said about Abrahamson, and some fans have doubtless wondered whether he was simply another alter ego for Adam Yauch, aka Nathaniel Hornblower. But not only was Abrahamson a real person, Mike Simpson says, he was a valuable contributor—especially to the Beastie Boys’ inexperienced production team.
If Tim Carr had been ready to breathe a sigh of relief as
Paul’s Boutique
drew to a close, it would have to wait. “They went to the Record Plant. And the first thing they did was, Mike D called a barroom rental place, and he got a large-screen projection television, a Ping-Pong table, a foosball table, an air hockey table and three pinball machines,” he says. “If they could have got a bowling alley, they would have. And they took over the big room at the Record Plant, which is there to record symphonies and Led Zeppelin, and it’s filled with all these games. And Mike says, ‘Yo Tim, it was a deal. The more stuff I got, the better deal they gave me!’ So now, I can’t even bring anyone from the company down.”
Carr would grudgingly admit that the band “did set up vocal booths in front of all that shit, and they did do the work. But every time you went there, somebody was playing foosball or Ping-Pong.” For Mike D, however, the games were a declaration of independence, after being forced torecord
Licensed to Ill
at Rick Rubin’s favorite studio, Chung King, in New York’s Chinatown. “We’d be like going into this bummy studio at two in the morning,” Diamond said in 1994. “And then all of a sudden we were here, going into these fancy studios where you pay like $15,000 a day. And we’d just go in there and play Ping-Pong. Seriously.” 20
Because most of the hard decisions and technical tweaks had already been made at Matt Dike’s apartment, recording would go relatively smoothly. ‘“Car Thief’ was a challenge, because we had to work in a different room with a new SSL board,” recalls Caldato. “We were also experimenting with some new substance for inspiration, to complete the vibe of the song. It worked!”
Dike, however, was never happy with the rerecorded results of this song, or any others. “I think the tracks we recorded at my apartment are better—they’re punchier,” he contends. Part of the problem, Dike believes, is that many of the original vinyl samples were later sourced from CD.
Some additional tracking would take place elsewhere in Hollywood, at Ocean Way Recording. There, “Looking Down the Barrel of a Gun”—one of the only tunes on the album to feature real instruments—was put to tape. A rough mix of “Egg Man” that would eventually make the album was completed at Ocean Way as well. And a
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