1. Introduction
I feel a sense of responsibility for reducing my environmental impact on the world. As such, I have often contemplated installing solar panels for my house, investing in an electric car, or making more significant efforts to recycle household waste. However, I am seldom asked to consider the environmental impact of a critical activity in my life: my music production practice. I am regularly asked to contemplate a different set of questions – whether I have a fast enough computer, all the sonic reference points of large recording studios, and if I would get a ‘better’ sound with an original LA2A from the 1960s rather than the emulation, clone, or reissue. Additionally, I often question whether I have accurate enough monitor speakers or enough microphones. Over 24 years, I have accumulated a significant amount of gear, often in response to these questions, some of which no longer work, some of which I have sold or given away, and most of which is stored in my garage. While a small portion of it is used in my day-to-day music production activities, all of it has an environmental impact. I find it striking that this impact has come partly from being constantly told I need specific gear and that particular technologies are central to the sound of music production. It seems that to be considered a ‘professional’, one needs these technologies.
This story speaks to a broader phenomenon in popular music production. Recording studios use various technologies to capture and process sound. Some are hardware, software, originals, replicas, and emulations. Although some of these technologies perform very different tasks, sometimes the differences are nuanced. A music producer typically won’t decide between a compressor and a microphone. They need one for capturing sound and the other for processing it. But when it comes to all the different types of microphones and compressors available, a plethora of forms, brands, models, and kinds emerge. And if one considers any of the major studios in the world, they are quasi-museums of all these forms of technology. To some, these nuances are the sound of music production; for others, they are a form of status by which stakeholders can identify who is who. Yet, all involve material elements that contribute to the ecological cost of music. Why don’t we consider this at an industrial level? And is it worth this cost?
This article explores these issues in relation to the ecological cost of music production. It draws from the burgeoning debates on the ecological impacts of popular music (Bates Reference Bates2020; Devine Reference Devine2019; Gibson Reference Gibson2019; Keogh and Collinson Reference Keogh and Collinson2020). Various media platforms, such as blogs, web pages, and magazines, form the basis for a discourse analysis of the key themes regarding sustainability in music production. It then analyses how these themes relate to the construction of recording studios instead of their everyday use. Although technologies like compressors are not typically considered in this discussion, aesthetic preferences often lead to consumption activities that must be factored in when considering the ecological costs of music production. This practice suggests that music producers focus on sustainability practices that won’t interrupt their music-making activities. In this article, music production discussions at an industrial level refer to a cultural space comprised of a community of people involved in making popular music. They share their thoughts in media forms.
For context, outlining typical studio workflows and key terms and techniques may be beneficial. Studios can be found in various settings, from large facilities to bedrooms, some equipped with acoustic treatment and others without. Within these environments, technology is used to capture and create sound. Microphones will capture the sound directly from sources like instruments, and preamps amplify it to a level that can be worked with. Instruments that are direct input bypass this step. Following this, the audio can be processed to adjust frequencies and amplitude through hardware (such as the LA2A) before being sent to an A/D converter, saved on a hard drive of a computer, and manipulated via a digital audio workstation (such as Pro Tools or Logic Pro X). The distinction between working in a home studio and a larger facility influences whether components such as recording consoles, A/D converters, clocks, various preamps, and hardware processors are stand-alone or integrated into a single audio interface that consolidates many functions digitally. Additional signal processing may take place through plugins in software form. While this overview simplifies the studio workflow and doesn’t capture all methods, it highlights the array of technology – all with an ecological impact – involved in the process.Footnote 1
2. Eco-musicology and popular music studies
Discussions about the ecological cost of music production can be contextualised within recent questions in popular music research that ask us to consider the environmental cost of music-making activities. This consideration has encompassed the materials involved in the instruments and the hardware required to run music production software. Cultural industries meaningfully contribute to the global ecological crisis facing the world. As Chris Gibson writes, ‘Music is, via its material and corporeal relations, embroiled in unfurling ecological upheavals’ (Gibson Reference Gibson2019). This has occurred with instrument design. Gibson claims that the production of stringed instruments is the result of deforestation. While there is a cultural awareness of the timbers used in guitars, its ecological cost is perhaps not at the forefront of discussions, despite the work that some guitar manufacturers, such as Maton and Taylor, have undertaken to reduce the ecological impact of their operations. Further, Aaron Allen (Reference Allen, Auricchio, Cook and Pacini2012) reminds us that ecological and cultural values can produce a wider appreciation for the materials used in musical instruments, such as a forest that is used for the wood that is in a violin. These layers of materials are similar to those present in music production, such as recording technologies. Eliot Bates (Reference Bates2020) articulates the materials in recording technology, specifically in preamps from the early 2000s. Scholars have commented on how climate change has impacted the places of indigenous music practice. Klisala Harrison (Reference Harrison2020) argues, ‘Knowledges, epistemologies and ontologies that Indigenous peoples engage, access, perform and develop via music are now affected by ice-melt, sea-level rise and droughts’ (p. 31). Here, we can see that climate change has an impact on music, and, in turn, music has an impact on climate change. This body of work also underscores that music production forms one part of a series of ways in which music is implicated in climate change.
Some scholars have focused on the perceived immateriality of music arising from digitalisation, even in objects that seem to be dematerialised. As Kyle Devine (Reference Devine2019) argues, ‘The digitalization of music is not the dematerialization of music. Rather, the digitalization of music represents a splintering and proliferation of music’s commodity forms – and therefore a massification of music’s materials bases, even if some of music’s digital materialities are microscopic’ (p. 3). Digital technologies in music production have been explored in terms of their materiality and the ecological impact associated with these materialities. In their work, Keogh and Collinson (Reference Keogh and Collinson2020) argue that seemingly dematerialised technologies, such as DAWs (Digital Audio Workstations), have environmental costs from the computers they must run on.
This body of research presents some difficult questions for the future of making music. What will the recordist who is about to update their computer to run more individual tracks do with the notion that it has all those components? What will the musician who wants to buy another guitar for their collection do with the information that it contributes to deforestation? But perhaps a more relevant question is, what are all those involved in making music prepared to do? In his chapter, Matt Brennan (Reference Brennan, Oakley and Banks2020) states he does ‘not want a world without music’. Brennan asks this question in relation to growth, but it seems that this statement can be placed in a broader phenomenon; we may not simply adopt science about climate change. Music makers may turn their attention to parts of their practice that won’t impact their core business.
3. Media and ideology in the era of climate change
Music producers seem to consider the environmental impact of technologies in music production selectively. Here, they tend to focus on things that won’t interrupt making music and its fundamental forms of cultural capital. The framework develops a way to describe how music production cultures may only be interested in acting on climate change so far that it doesn’t obstruct activities that are deemed central to the practice. Climate science is an academic discipline that constitutes a considerable body of research. For example, Lynas et al. (Reference Lynas, Houlton and Perry2021) surveyed 88,125 research papers on climate change. But it is then transformed into a set of messages that spread throughout society. The ability of this research to enact meaningful change can rely on how it is received within societies. Societies don’t encounter science in the same way; instead, it is discovered in the context of broader cultural experiences and identities. Furnham and Robinson (Reference Furnham and Robinson2022) examine climate change as an ideology that divides people along a set of demographics relating to political beliefs, age, and gender. They state, ‘Climate change is a political issue because of arguments suggesting what must occur to combat it’ (p. 4). This can be seen in terms of gender, race, and class. McCright and Dunlap (Reference McCright and Dunlap2011) explore climate change denial across demographics in the United States. They argue that ‘conservative white males are more likely than are other adults to espouse climate change denial’ (p. 1167). Similarly, Thomas Laidley (Reference Laidley2013) explores the class dimensions of climate change, stating: ‘It is often argued that in a context of anthropogenic global warming, lifestyles must change, overconsumption must cease, and behaviours must be modified. Whose lifestyles, what kinds of overconsumption, and which behaviours’ (p. 167). The uneven targeting of climate change mitigations prompts the question of how this might occur in music production cultures.
One of the solutions that has been put forward to improve climate change adoption is for better relations between producers of goods and their consumers. Alpaslan Kelleci and Yıldız (Reference Kelleci and Yıldız2021) suggest that marketing approaches have a more significant role to play in climate change reduction. There is also the risk that the implications of sustainability in goods production will be counterproductive. Ehrenfeld (Reference Ehrenfeld2008) states that effective change requires far more reconsideration of how we live and do things. The critique of overconsumption and calls to make more widespread efforts to mitigate climate change may serve as a valuable lens to explore music production. Here, its technology forms cannot be discounted from the ecological cost of human activities.
The different attitudes towards climate change invite us to think about a broader set of experiences that may shape how individuals will be persuaded by information. So, the question here is how dispositions within the field of music production might shape how it will respond to climate change. Research has demonstrated a set of dispositions crucial to operating within music production. An appreciation for specific technologies and analogue aesthetics can constitute ‘cultural capital’ or an agreed-upon set of values in recording (Cole Reference Cole2011). Individuals working in recording contexts often express an appreciation for the sound of analogue aesthetics, which can involve preferences for specific technologies, such as hardware. Individuals can communicate their dispositions in discursive spaces. Documentaries (O’Grady Reference O’Grady2021) and Internet forums (Bates and Bennett Reference Bates and Bennett2022) are places where economies of value for sound technologies are consecrated. Recording technologies are evidently crucial to music producers, either in regard to the sound aesthetics they wish to produce or the reputation they want to cultivate in the field. However, such preferred positions are rarely tested. Therefore, appreciation may reflect an alignment with a learned cultural value rather than an experience with sound. The circulation of these ideas comes in media forms that more broadly have a crucial link between climate science and society. A key component of climate change has been the inability of the media to report on it in a way that reflects the challenges it poses (Boykoff Reference Boykoff2011). Shanahan (Reference Shanahan2007) states, ‘The media and those it relies on for information still need to raise their game if they are to meet the challenge of telling the story of our times’ (p. 1). This prompts questions about how climate change is discussed in music production at an industrial level. How are mitigation strategies proposed? And how does this relate to the key elements of cultural capital within this social field?
4. Discourse analysis and positionality as an approach to eco-musicology
A discourse analysis with practice-led positionality can help to explore the ecological dimensions of music production. It does so by examining relevant industrial discussions. Researchers have found that examining texts is helpful in making sense of popular music production culture (Bates and Bennett Reference Bates and Bennett2022; Williams Reference Williams2010). This highlights how music production is often discussed in forums, blogs, and magazines. As such, discourse analysis can offer valuable insight into the disposition of people who work in music production. Some of these relate to how music production can be more environmentally sustainable. Recordists use personal blogs to report how they approach sustainability in their practice, while news media sites can report on recording technology and companies that engage in sustainable practices. These texts provide insight into a focus on construction in sustainability discussions and, in turn, an absence of sustainability in the materialities of the music-making process. These are the spaces that individuals who practice music production encounter when they research questions about sustainability, which can be indicative of a broader consciousness about recording practice.
Another component of the methodology used is my positionality as the author. For England (Reference England1994), fieldwork is ‘intensely personal, in that the positionality [i.e., position based on class, gender, race, etc.] and biography of the researcher play a central role in the research process, in the field, and in the final text’ (p. 251). Placing the researcher in the researched field can form a central consideration in research on music production (Holland and Wilson Reference Holland and Wilson2015; Tomaz de Carvalho Reference Tomaz de Carvalho2012). As I am a sound recordist, performer, and songwriter, the discourse analysis occurs alongside the fact I am implicated in and a participant in these ecological costs. Further, I work at a university with a large recording studio of world-class standards, and I contribute to equipment purchases for the studio, and the associated environmental costs. Additionally, I have a home studio that is configured to meet industry standards. It has been in operation for over 20 years in various spaces and technological configurations.
Finally, ecology and music production themes meet with broader ecological issues. The intersection of music production and sustainability can reflect broader concerns within a domain of research that considers sustainability outside a music production context. The sciences have identified and measured ecological and sustainability issues in society. These are measured in several aspects, including environmental impact and sustainability (Daian and Ozarska Reference Daian and Ozarska2009; Harrison Reference Harrison2020; Kelleci and Yıldız Reference Kelleci and Yıldız2021; Ytreberg et al. Reference Ytreberg, Åström and Fridell2021), consumer behaviour and second-hand markets (Rodrigues et al. Reference Rodrigues, Proença and Macedo2023; Stolz Reference Stolz2022; Wilhelms et al. Reference Wilhelms, Henkel and Falk2017), energy efficiency and consumption (Apipuchayakul and Vassanadumrongdee Reference Apipuchayakul and Vassanadumrongdee2020; Li et al. Reference Li, Cheung, Wong and Lam2010; Mills and Schleich Reference Mills and Schleich2014), climate change perception and beliefs (Furnham and Robinson Reference Furnham and Robinson2022; McCright and Dunlap Reference McCright and Dunlap2011), recycling and material utilisation (Bolden et al. Reference Bolden, Abu-Lebdeh and Fini2013; Majumder et al. Reference Majumder, Canale, Mastino, Pacitto, Frattolillo and Dell’Isola2021), sustainable technology and consumer participation (Freedman and Keith Reference Freedman and Keith1996; Heiskanen et al. Reference Heiskanen, Kasanen and Timonen2005), and cultural perspectives on sustainability (Allen Reference Allen, Auricchio, Cook and Pacini2012). This body of research is used to link issues in certain aspects of music production to larger sustainability challenges. However, their true significance lies in two key areas: first, identifying the broader context of focal points in music production and sustainability discussions, and second, drawing attention to aspects that music producers often overlook.
5. Brick by brick: Representations of sustainability in music production
Written material within the industrial music production field reveals concern about the environmental impact of music production. Some recordists have reflected on the absence of collective concern for the environment in music production. In 1996, an article in nature and technology magazine ‘Fourth Door Review’ (n.d.) reflects upon the state of ecologically sustainable recording practice: ‘From a certain perspective there’s a veritable gulf between the music industry and the environmental movement. You rarely find discussion or action within the modern music corporation about sustainability and the environment’. Another post published by the music community organisation ‘Making Music’ (Scanlon Reference Scanlon2020) advocates for net-zero recording studios and draws a similar conclusion: ‘The music industry doesn’t exactly have a reputation for being earth friendly’. These comments express a frustration that music production is not considered a contributor to the climate crisis. Not that it is denied, but it is just not on the radar of musicians. We tend to pick and choose what is important and the integration of broader scientific evidence about climate change into society. This reflects my own experiences of music production. During conversations with people, or industry panels I’ve run, it is hard to get people to consider the effects of music on climate change. They are more likely to think about coal power plants.
Efforts to address the environmental cost of recording have tended to be limited to construction or elements that have very little to do with music-making or recording. One area is the recycled materials used in building construction that houses the studio. This includes repurposing the space, described in Fourth Door Review as a ‘mix of old and new’ (Fourth Door Review n.d.). It can also incorporate the use of materials. A blog published in (Piuma n.d.), the website of musician David Small, states: ‘If you care about the environment, then your other task is to build your studio using eco-friendly strategies and materials’. One example is acoustic materials made from ‘80% recycled denim’. A blog published on the website of acoustic material provider Arqen (2012) reveals that green acoustic treatments can be used effectively in studio control rooms. Finally, Sound on Sound (James Reference James2010) writes that this fits into a broader practice. ‘Traditional acoustic materials from mineral and synthetic sources are subject to environmental concerns and possible health issues. Now, there are affordable, ‘green’ alternatives, but how suitable are they for the home studio?’ This positioning of climate change reminds us of the materialities of recording studios. Studios are typically indoors, and in order to house them, they need materials that can have an environmental impact. Although they can be made with materials that reduce this, they interlock with a much more comprehensive section of non-musical related activities. These responses reflect a broader effort to use recycled materials outside of recording environments in construction. Building is a significant contributor to global emissions. Arnas Majumder et al. (Reference Majumder, Canale, Mastino, Pacitto, Frattolillo and Dell’Isola2021) write, ‘The building sector is responsible for about 40% of global energy consumption’. Here, music production forms a minor part of construction practices. More sustainability practices through recycled material can lead to the ‘minimization of environmental impacts regarding natural resources extraction, the mitigation of CO2 emissions, as well as the reduction of construction and demolition waste (C.D.W.) generation’ (Bolden et al. Reference Bolden, Abu-Lebdeh and Fini2013). Here, music production is considered an environmental concern in terms of its construction requirements.
Offsetting the materials used in a studio is yet another theme oriented towards construction. Piuma offsets the impact of lumber use by planting a series of trees (Piuma n.d.). Another approach is to use materials in close geographic proximity to the construction site. ‘Making Music’ (Scanlon Reference Scanlon2020) reports on the sustainable approaches at Guilford Sound. The studio ‘features building materials sourced from the property itself or within a few miles’. This reminds us that the materials that go into recording studios take resources from somewhere else, and musicians can offset this with the trees they plant or the places from which they draw resources. It is not just music producers who do this, though. This reflects a reasonably well-established practice using trees and other means of offsetting the impact of human activity. This reflects something more significant than music production. Research shows that planting trees is vital for reducing the effects of climate change and CO2 emissions (Freedman and Keith Reference Freedman and Keith1996). However, planting trees must fit within different living contexts. Hyun-Kil Jo et al. (Reference Jo, Park and Kim2019) argue that offsetting emissions with tree planting must occur within specific locations, such as in lot areas of Multifamily residential sites. Yet, music production occurs in diverse places, where the above suggestions may not be possible. In rural areas where there is space for planting trees, this strategy might be applicable, but it poses challenges in more populated areas. Further, the offset must go through a government process.
Another theme is the environmental cost of delivering energy to a studio space. One example is the energy efficiency for the ongoing use of a studio. Piuma uses energy-efficient lights: ‘Ilumi creates smart L.E.D. light bulbs that are super energy efficient, last twenty years, and can be controlled with your smartphone’. This approach resonated with ‘Gearspace’ (2016) users. One wrote, ‘Again Congrats on building an Eco-friendly studio. I always cringe when I see some of the new studios in Mix magazine with lots and lots of quartz lighting fixtures’. Renewable energy sources of the studio are also another discussed factor. ‘Making Music’ (Scanlon Reference Scanlon2020) states that ‘clean, renewable energy sources in all of its facilities’ manage to ‘maintain a completely carbon-free footprint’. This can also be retrofitted after the studio has been operating for many years. Business technology website ‘Market Business News’ (Paddock Reference Paddock2017) states, ‘The world famous Abbey Road Studios in London, United Kingdom, is to run on wind and solar power as its owner Universal Music UK switches to green energy supplier Ecotricity’. This reminds us that as windowless spaces, studios often require a lot of light. However, efforts to reduce power usage through light fit into a much broader effort. This practice can be contextualised within wider efforts towards energy efficiency. Research shows that lighting significantly contributes to energy usage (Li et al. Reference Li, Cheung, Wong and Lam2010). However, implementation of more energy-efficient lights has been slow. Mills and Schleich (Reference Mills and Schleich2014) argue that storing older bulbs and education among users is a barrier to adoption. Apipuchayakul and Vassanadumrongdee (Reference Apipuchayakul and Vassanadumrongdee2020) found that attitudes towards sustainability are a significant factor in user adoption. This indicates that studios that are under economic pressure may not be willing to adopt climate mitigation strategies.
A surprisingly minor part of sustainability discussions is the elements that are central to the functioning of a studio, such as recording technology and furniture. Audio magazine ‘Mix Down’ (2020) commends an Australian company that makes studio furniture from recycled materials: ‘The pieces are built from recycled timber and F.S.C. certified plywood’. The technology for recording can also be produced from recycled materials. Music production blog ‘Sound on Sound’ states: ‘Genelec and their partners spent many years developing the recyclable composite for materials used for the M-series monitors, while nearly all current models use cases made from recycled aluminum’ (Inglis Reference Inglis2022). This reminds us that we need items in studios to house equipment in a way that we can access ergonomically – and that this equipment has an impact. This practice can be contextualised within a broader practice of using furniture from recycled materials. Studies have developed methods for the use of more sustainable materials in furniture. For example, Wang et al. (Reference Wang, Liu, Zhang and Zeng2023) examine the reuse of waste textiles in furniture to minimise its environmental impact. Daian and Ozarska (Reference Daian and Ozarska2009) identified the potential solutions for the wastage of wood during the manufacturing process. However, this type of effort is minor. Iritani et al. (Reference Iritani, Silva, Saavedra, Grael and Ometto2015) argue that the materials used in furniture may have some environmental impact, but it is only small. They state that the ‘manufacturing process was responsible for only 7% of the global environmental impacts of the wardrobe life cycle’. This reminds us that the requirements for furniture and technologies in studios are mapped across relatively rigid requirements. While racks are RU standardised, other technologies, such as ones that house mixing consoles, are less inclined to be interchangeable, which may reduce the life cycle.
The environmental impacts that are mitigated in these accounts do not compromise the music production process – it is always upheld here. If a music producer plants a series of trees outside their recording studio, uses energy-efficient lights, or uses furniture made from recycled materials, they, more or less, continue to do what they otherwise do once the studio is built. These changes do not impact their recording activities. Even the more negligible parts of this discussion centred on technology or furniture do not appear to describe mitigations that will interrupt the music-making process, rather, the entire premise appears to avoid interruption. However, is it worth asking whether compromises to music production are required to achieve sustainability more meaningfully? Is it productive to consider the consumption activities that arise from aesthetic discourse? What appears to me to be missing from these sustainability practices is the idea of restraint. Music producers are not encouraged to build smaller studios that might use fewer materials or think about sharing studios to spread the cost across many people. And they are never encouraged to rethink the aesthetic discourse that might compel them to buy scores of technologies for their studios. To be clear, I agree with Brennan in that I don’t want a world without music, or in this case, the tools to make it. However, I am not convinced we must live in a world that heavily values acquiring gear. It seems that it too often has very little to do with music anyway. In the next section, I unpack the degree to which music production is a consumption activity.
6. The unspoken issue: Technology as an ecological cost of music production
The ecological impacts of music production may be better articulated by also reflecting on the purchasing decisions of music producers. Discussions about the environmental sustainability of construction and energy can overlook one key element of music production: the sheer number of technologies available – and ostensibly required – within recording practice. Although some of these technologies perform significantly different tasks, the differences between some are quite nuanced. For example, the differences in how tools – such as compressors, equalisers, audio interfaces, loudspeakers, headphones, cabling, and microphones – handle sound are significant and may not be interchangeable. However, the difference level is sometimes considerably nuanced within these broader categories.
6.1. The materialities of recording technologies
Signal processors come in various different forms across hardware and software, as well as original, new, or clone variants. These various technologies exist within a hierarchy of cultural and, in turn, economic value. For example, Studio 2 of Abbey Road (n.d.) vaunts over twenty pieces of outboard gear. Ocean Way Studios (n.d.) ‘Studio A’ boasts thirty-seven pieces of outboard gear. Capitol Studios (n.d.) ‘Studio 1’ has thirty-six types of outboard gear, many of which have up to four of the same units. There are no specific attempts to qualify why they have or need all this gear. The focus of these lists appears to be that they have accumulated a lot of recording technologies, all to the benefit of the recording studio. Further, there is no reference to the ecological cost of having and maintaining this gear. These units are primarily placed in racks, require AC power, and have various components. This doesn’t include the plugins that these studios have, many of which emulate these individual units.
One type of signal processor is the ‘original’. It refers to an early technology run, often from several decades ago. Original technology is commonly found in large recording studios, such as the Neve console that was present at Sound City and heralded in the documentary of the same name (O’Grady Reference O’Grady2021). Many technologies in their original form are no longer in production. By the 1990s, many companies – including Pultec – stopped producing products. One of the famous compressors used in music production was initially made in the 1960s and discontinued in 1969 (Universal Audio 2017). Despite this short production run, the LA2A remains one of the most revered compressors for vocal processing due to its slow reaction time, producing a ‘smooth’ tone. Original technologies are typically found in hardware form and revered for tactile interfaces. The LA2A famously has a two-knob tactile interface. To purchase these technologies, one must use a second-hand market. Samantha Bennett writes that the second-hand market is ‘a global, yet small and close network of individuals who trade in vintage equipment amongst themselves’ (Bennett Reference Bennett2012). Prices frequently change on the second-hand market, as seen in websites such as Reverb (n.d.), but as a general rule, an original piece of studio gear in good condition will be the most expensive type of that technology, sometimes fetching over USD $20,000.
Second-hand recording technologies can be contextualised within a broader second-hand market. This approach to goods can have positive environmental impacts (Rodrigues et al. Reference Rodrigues, Proença and Macedo2023). However, Rodrigues et al. (Reference Rodrigues, Proença and Macedo2023) argue that the adoption of second-hand materials is dependent on ‘price, the need for exclusivity and frugality’. The mitigation of environmental costs is not uniform across ages. They note, ‘While for young people the environmental concern influences their intention to buy secondhand, in the case of older people this has no relevance’ (p. 14). For Arman and Mark-Herbert (Reference Arman and Mark-Herbert2022), second-hand items can build a circular economy. They identify social media as being crucial to helping streamline this process: ‘Facebook plays a vital role in designing and changing this behavioural pattern by promoting the advantages of using secondhand products in light of a circular economy and re-commerce’ (p. 14). One is unlikely to find an LA2A on the Facebook marketplace and is more likely to have it on music-related sites such as Reverb. However, the article does speak to the way that the Internet is crucial to the availability of this technology to build a circular economy. Some research on second-hand items makes distinctions between luxury items (Stolz Reference Stolz2022). While I’m not inclined to suggest the LA2A is a ‘luxury’ item, it is associated with cultural capital among music producers. Yet, the focus of the sustainability discourse analysed above suggests that environmental concerns may not be a driving factor in purchasing them.
Another option is to clone or reissue the original hardware. A ‘reissue’ refers to the reintroduction of an original, often following a long period of not being produced. A ‘clone’ refers to replicating the functionality and form of an original presented with a slightly different name. Discussions about reissues often emphasise the replication of the original sound. One notable reissue was the release of the LA2A by Universal Audio in 1999. Universal Audio (2017) states on its website that the development of the reissue ‘involved a lengthy study of the original photocell formula – including working with both modern device physicists and the developers of the original 60s-era photocells’. Discussions of clones also emphasise the recreation of the original sound. Still, crucially, they position the technology that is being cloned as a tool for music production, rather than a model of a specific company. Warm Audio makes the WA-2A, a clone of the LA2A. The company frames LA2A as a type of compressor, rather than a brand they are copying. On its website, Warm Audio (n.d.) states, ‘For decades, the renowned “2A style” circuit has become the go-to device for seamlessly handling vocals, bass, and a wide variety of other instruments and program material in an effortlessly smooth way’. Pricing structures for types of hardware are typically highest for the reissue, while a clone can be less than half the reissue cost. Again, the discussions focus on the amount of research that has gone into ensuring these reissues and clones sound similar to the original product. The environmental impacts of these are not included in these key points.
Another type of signal processor is a plugin. Plugins are software-based signal processors that operate within a digital audio workstation. They have different functionality to hardware, enabling duplication and total recall. Software plugins can also be integrated into an existing hardware setup for computer processing power. Audio companies attempt to recreate original hardware by ensuring that the physical form of the front plate is recreated in software form. On its website for the LA2A, Waves (n.d.) describes its features as ‘Natural-sounding even with heavy compression’ and ‘Modeled from Chris Lord-Alge’s personal vintage hardware’. In this discussion, the focus is on the original sonic reference point rather than the ecological benefits that could result from this practice. The plugin replicates the original’s physical design, with almost identical functionality, colours, and style. However, some argue that this design approach does not have an optimal workflow and that different interfaces are required for the digital environment (Bell et al. Reference Bell, Hein and Ratcliffe2015). Plugins are typically cheaper than hardware options. For example, the Waves version of the LA2A costs $29.
Individual types of recording technology can have different environmental costs. Purchasing an original LA2A from the 1960s may not require manufacturing new materials. This does not mean that no new materials are involved, though. While original hardware may come with its original components, it may not be operational. In this instance, new features may be required. Samantha Bennett (Reference Bennett2012) identifies repair and maintenance as critical elements of the original item. Original hardware technology can have a global market as a specific material object with concentrated demand. This increases the chance of the requirement for shipping, as one may be inclined to pay for shipping to receive a particular option. Shipping has an environmental cost (Ytreberg et al. Reference Ytreberg, Åström and Fridell2021). Further, the high cultural value of original technologies can produce flow on ecological impacts resulting from the reissues, clones and plugins that spur from this product. The more cultural capital that is associated with the technology, the more demand for it there will be.
The purchase of a clone or reissue results from manufacturing a new product. Apart from the isolated examples mentioned earlier, hardware primarily comprises materials extracted from the earth. These materials are then manufactured in places not always powered by renewable energy. Further, these places are often centralised to locales and require large-distance shipping. For example, SSL (Solid State Logic) has its operations located in the United Kingdom and China. Here, the consumption of this equipment requires shipping across large areas. Another potential environmental cost of cloning or reissuing hardware is a socially agreed-upon consensus about whether these options actually replicate the original. For example, SSL has recently moved into the home studio market, releasing desktop mixers and small-form audio interfaces. The low price point for these setups appears to have come from technological advances and the establishment of manufacturing in China (Sparrow Reference Sparrow2023). This leads to questions about the difference between the original and the reissues. How this plays out – or, in other words, whether there is a consensus that the SSL products are ‘good’ – will determine whether these technologies will likely end up in landfills or lead to a healthy second-hand market. For example, a blog posted in Mixdown (2023) states, ‘Therein lies the dilemma, how does a company as prestigious as SSL release a budget desktop mixer without compromising on sound or build quality?’. Here, one’s ability to think through using the SSL desktop mixer in their studio is not concerned with its environmental impact. Perhaps the actual dilemma is what gear is being replaced in a studio to accommodate this new hardware and what happens with the disused hardware?
Purchasing a plugin does not necessarily involve hardware components. However, plugins may have deceptive environmental costs. Plugins may operate on existing devices required for tracking media (e.g., a personal computer), potentially requiring no additional hardware. For example, if an existing laptop computer was used for the DAW, the machine’s processing power is also used to power the plugin. Therefore, plugins may require no hardware costs, including mineral extraction and shipping. However, plugins are central to the so-called dematerialisation of music production. As previously discussed, this can be misleading. Plugins must be contextualised within the systems they are run on, as it may prompt users to upgrade to support their plugin requirements. Further, some plugins require specific hardware to operate. For example, Universal Audio’s UAD2 plugins need dedicated DSP (Digital Signal Processor) hardware to run them. This hardware has manufacturing and shipping activities similar to hardware signal processors. These systems have obsolescence risks, too. It is hard to imagine that these systems will have the longevity of an LA2A from the 1960s.
6.2. The changing eco-recording studio
The dynamic nature of music production cultures and environments poses distinct environmental impacts. A potentially high ecological cost of music production is that analogue aesthetics may not be in vogue forever. A simplistic summary of music production practices from the 1960s illustrates the use of analogue existed for necessity from technological limitations, followed by a trend towards digital in the 1980s and finally a preference back to analogue in the 2000s. Where this cycle goes from here leads to questions about the potential landfill – and the efforts in manufacturing and shipping – once a new phase appears. Why can’t environmental considerations shape future economies of value?
Changing workflows potentially apply additional pressure on the environmental cost of music production. Home recording environments have reshaped where and how music production is practised. These environments have led to a decline in centralised commercial recording spaces and an uptake in dispersed ubiquitous domestic spaces. Andrew Leyshon (Reference Leyshon2009) attributes the decline in studios to the democratisation of technologies. Théberge (Reference Théberge2012) argues that while there is a decline in large studios, there has been an uptake in smaller studios. The resultant ubiquity of recording practice has led to the ubiquity of recording technologies, across hardware and software forms. Centralised commercial recording spaces are typically shared spaces, and, as such, the environmental cost is shared. Conversely, home studio users turned to personal computers from the turn of the millennium, enabling individuals to work independently. However, this leads to duplication of recording tools. Home studios in DAW setups can have a high turnover rate focusing on commercial laptops with typically a shorter life cycle than other music production technologies. Home studio users can also have ambitious scaling of technology, where one might start with plugins, upgrade to a clone, and then seek out the original. This is perhaps an impact of Toffler’s concept of ‘prosumption’. Individuals now have the means to independently create cultural products. While these tools were once too costly or only accessible in communal studio environments, they are now readily available for personal acquisition and use.
Another ecological cost arises from these technologies being often privately owned. They may, at most, exist in a commercial studio rented out to people. However, sharing technologies is seen as one way to reduce the impact of climate change. Research has commented on sharing economies as a new form of thinking about items. As Belk (Reference Belk1988) argues, ‘we are what we have’ (p. 160). This reflects the status that comes from the ownership of items. Belk (Reference Belk2014) would later say that this practice has changed to you are now what you can access. Wilhelms et al. (Reference Wilhelms, Henkel and Falk2017) state that sharing can exist within a broader sharing economy frame ranging from a sustainable to a neoliberal way of consumption. However, if technologies are shared, their cultural capital has less currency for the individuals who might otherwise ‘own’ them. We might say that subscriptions don’t allow for sharing. And users often pay a yearly fee. An ecologically minded approach might not only be a conversation about what technologies one owns but also the ways one shares them to minimise duplication within social networks.
The emergent spaces of music production pose difficulties for implementing an eco-recording studio. It is typically assumed that a studio is constructed with recycled or offset materials, but this is only sometimes the case. Home studios often consist of repurposed bedrooms with little to no acoustic controls and, therefore, do not involve construction of much significance. The environmental cost of these studios is mainly driven by the technologies used in their operation, such as computers, microphones, and audio interfaces. For example, in the audio technology blog, ‘10 Steps to Building a Home Recording Studio’ (Fitzjohn Reference Fitzjohnn.d.), the advice is focused on selecting a space to work in from within an existing house – such as a bedroom – not building a space from scratch. The blog is almost entirely focused on selecting recording technologies like microphones and speakers. Conversely, a YouTube video for ‘Modern Mix’ (Modern Mixing 2012) shows a time lapse for ‘building a home studio’, which involves making bespoke timber frames for room structures and acoustic treatment. Home studio work is typically done on limited budgets, and achieving an ecologically friendly space with acoustic materials may be cost-prohibitive. Also, home studios exist within a broader set of activities in a domestic house; therefore, decisions about renewable energy fit within a much broader context. These considerations suggest that the imagined eco-studio only sometimes aligns with mitigating what people might do in them.
The evolving landscape of eco-recording studios has implications for how we might think about the dematerialisation of technology in digital settings. While digital recording technologies are often portrayed as dematerialised, this perspective can obscure the material components present in these contexts (Keogh). However, digital-focused environments can also create materialities that have ecological ramifications. Issues related to obsolescence and aspiration within home studios result in various consumption behaviours. The obsolescence linked to ambition often leads to the disposal or replacement of technologies. A Mac computer from 2005 is much more likely to end up in a landfill compared to an LA2A from 1969, which typically maintains its worth. Additionally, the private and personal nature of home studios complicates the concept of dematerialisation. Digital environments produce an unprecedented duplication of technology. The economies of excess found in large studio spaces, often driven by financial considerations, actually promote the efficient utilisation of materials.
7. Conclusions
Planting a tree near a recording studio to offset the timber resources used in its construction may very well be a productive sustainability practice. However, it should not interrupt the core activities of music production. After carrying out this sustainability gesture, the music producer can make music how they would otherwise. They can proceed to fill their studio with scores of technological objects that are revered in music production. However, a construction-focused approach to music production and ecology risks overlooking consumption practices and the associated environmental costs. For example, music producers must decide between various iterations of technologies – such as hardware, software, original, or emulation – when configuring a studio. These decisions appear to be solely about aesthetics rather than the environmental impact they may have.
The tapered criteria about sustainability practices in music production set out at an industrial level provide fruitful terrain for how we might study the relationships between ecology and music production. The expectations and cultural forms of value associated with recording technologies may be a type of ‘overconsumption’ (Laidley Reference Laidley2013). The absence of this element of recording practice in industrial discussions complicates the ‘unfurling ecological upheavals’ in music (Gibson Reference Gibson2019). Existing approaches (Bates Reference Bates2020; Gibson Reference Gibson2019) encourage us to consider layers of ecological cost in music-related objects that we might not initially see. I have argued that the cultural expectations to have specific technologies are also an environmental consideration. The construction focus of discussions about music production and the environment suggests that mitigation strategies are only discussed in ways that don’t interrupt the core business of making music, and its forms of cultural capital. This raises questions about what limits music makers have about engaging in climate change solutions. If they are asked to install energy-efficient lights, that is reasonable; if they are invited to minimise the number of compression flavours in their studio, what would they say? Of course, there will always be limits. When Brennan says he does not want to live in a world without music, he reflects, I dare say, the thoughts of many popular music scholars, including myself. Yet this also limits how we are inclined to act on climate change science. Ehrenfeld’s (Reference Ehrenfeld2008) calls for a meaningful reconstitution of how we live to address climate change. Mapping this across music production suggests that music producers have yet to heed this call.
The field of music production may make a more meaningful contribution to sustainability efforts if its discussions on an industrial level address overconsumption practices. As it stands, specific objects constitute cultural capital in music production. These come in multiple and duplicate forms, and if we use some of the most famous studios in the world as a guide, the more gear, the merrier. Overconsumption may not be the objective of this practice, but it appears to be the consequence. The environmental costs of music production may be reduced with increased cultural value towards sustainability that encompasses an ambitious desire to minimise the number of technologies in studio environments. To promote sustainability, the environmental impact of recording needs to figure more within music production and be discussed further across forums, blogs, and advertising contexts. Against the backdrop of the role media plays in climate change, there are questions about how media conveys messages about the ecological cost of music production. Boykoff (Reference Boykoff2011) asks us to consider climate change messages as a ‘battle’. In music production, it doesn’t seem to be a matter of denying versus accepting the existence of a human-induced climate crisis. The problem appears to lie in nailing the solutions to what may be a too-narrow set of criteria.
If music producers consider the ecological cost of music production through the lens of their day-to-day practice, various dilemmas arise and trade-offs must be made. Although there is not enough space in this article to discuss these comprehensively, if we focus on music production activities instead of construction, some things become evident. The acquisition of recording technologies to carry out recording activities has environmental impacts, and although they are different across the various forms they come in, they do exist. For example, suppose a music producer obtains forty hardware signal processing units for their personal studio. In that case, they have used more of the earth’s resources than the person with just one unit. There are many complexities regarding what form this hardware might take, but the more we think about minimising the number of tools within music production, the more it may affect how we make music. Those forty signal processors produce sonic flavours that, many would say, are significant to the aesthetics of a music producer’s work and certainly in terms of their cultural capital in the field. To minimise the environmental impacts of these activities, we must ask difficult questions about the audibility of the sonic flavours and whether they are worth the materials they use. However, more importantly, such moves require a fundamental shift in how we view studio work, from a focus on aesthetics to resisting or rejecting ‘overconsumption’ (Kelleci and Yıldız Reference Kelleci and Yıldız2021). To be clear, I am not suggesting aesthetics must be ignored, but rather that ecological considerations form part of an assessment of cultural value. In his work, Allen (Reference Allen, Auricchio, Cook and Pacini2012) emphasises that the sustainability practices in the production of violins are a meaningful part of classical music cultures. According to Allen, the cultural value is not determined solely by the player, composer, luthier, construction technique, ‘or the sustainable practices that harvested it’. Rather, it is the ‘combination of these elements, the amalgamation of ecological and cultural factors that creates value’ (p. 314). This combination may also be applied to recording technologies, where the sound quality produced by the gear might be examined in conjunction with the sustainable practices employed in its creation and application.
The study suggests four potential paths for future research. First, although I’ve outlined the technological context of recent years, it is important to recognise ongoing changes that may shape future discussions. AI is becoming increasingly pivotal in music production, impacting aspects like music generation and production tools (Galuszka Reference Galuszka2024). Broader insights indicate that AI will play a significant role in considering environmental issues, affecting both our potential solutions to the ecological crisis, and in turn the ecological consequences of AI technology itself (Al-Sharafi et al. Reference Al-Sharafi, Al-Emran, Arpaci, Iahad, AlQudah, Iranmanesh and Al-Qaysi2023; Ligozat et al. Reference Ligozat, Lefevre, Bugeau and Combaz2022). Second, other areas of popular music may benefit from examining their industrially formed criteria for sustainability. These areas might include consumption and the forms of status associated with headphone brands or listening formats. Third, exploring the materials and lifespans of music production technologies may be helpful in developing a better understanding of the risks posed by all these technologies. This may require going beyond the socio-cultural methodology used in this article. Based on the analysis provided, the specific environmental costs of music production are not explicit, but it is clear that they are not minor. Many tools, such as hardware and software, are available for processing and capturing sound. These costs need to be analysed further and made more apparent to a diverse audience, including those seeking to be more sustainable and those who need to be convinced to do so. Research methods may be crucial in establishing a clear framework for where the most significant environmental impacts lie and how to communicate these impacts. Fourth, this research also prompts questions about how far music makers might be prepared to engage in solutions to combat climate change. How many music makers would be prepared to say they don’t have an LA2A but an eco-friendly multi-purpose compressor manufactured from renewable sources? If documentaries like Sound City are anything to go by, it seems unlikely many would.
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