Alright – so today we’ve got the honor of introducing you to Tyler Spicer. We think you’ll enjoy our conversation, we’ve shared it below.
Tyler, thanks for taking the time to share your stories with us today What’s one of the most important lessons you learned in school?
I doubt many music producers would have experienced a similar school-life to mine. Between ages fourteen to eighteen, I studied at a boarding school in the middle of the British countryside. As if that wasn’t the start of a children’s Disney film enough, it was also a boarding school with a military history, still carried through to this day. It’s a naval college. Visit any day and you would see students in the uniform of junior officers of the British navy, called no. 2s. These are the typical wear of servicemen and women going about their daily work onboard ship: a thick, roomy, blue shirt with epaulets, black, slightly nylon-like trousers, a blue belt made from seatbelt-like webbing, and a pair of chunky Doc Martins. Except they aren’t on a ship. They’re firmly on land and might be in a history classroom full of leather bound books, a chemistry lab wearing goggles like a completely misguided accessory, or in a language lab, surrounded by various European flags and a caricatured image of a croissant. All a little incongruous, on reflection.
With this naval heritage also came some of the same traditions, including regular inspections of clothing and rooms, and a subsequent constant level of expectation, need to perform, and meet a standard. These inspections would always be of a morning, and on an allotted weekday. When it came to clothing inspection, this would be every wednesday morning, no matter how hot or cold, in the form of a parade called ‘divisions’. All 6 houses would form up, march onto the huge 150m long black tarmac parade ground, and stand to attention in front of the white ship-styled flagpole, bearing the ensign of the college.
Now I’ve always liked to stand out, which is maybe intrinsic to a destined creative. And in this instance I always would stand out: I had a trumpet in my hand every week. I was part of the bugling team of between one and three that would signal the coordination of each parade. We would play a short call at the start, march our way out in front of the whole school to behind the flagpole and the inspecting member of staff that day, halt, then turn right at attention. We would play another call to signify the commencement of the inspection. At this point, every week, the whole school is looking at us. No pressure then!
The expectation was always to be stood dead still, always to look respectable, and always to deliver. It had its perks. We were never specifically inspected. But, it also bore the huge pressure of playing a call as the flag was raised, every week, and not splitting a note or completely messing it up, whilst everyone watched in complete silence, stood at attention. Mess it up, and you weren’t going to hear the end of it for a few days. It was like doing a small concert piece every week to which everyone knew every note. Most of the time it went well. Once or twice I was on my own. Nerves and brass instruments aren’t best of friends, you hear that still at almost any major military ceremony, if it goes wrong, you’ll know about it. And sometimes it did. I couldn’t hit the highest note under pressure, or would start accidentally on the wrong note. Before you know it, one mistake leads to another and it all becomes a very flabby, arrhythmic mess. I crumbled, absolutely mortified in front of 300 people. The expected result came: very little sympathy, a lot of joking. That was the culture of boys at a boarding school together, yet it built so many skills that I maybe didn’t realise at the time, and have carried into my business now.
It made me resilient, and able to take criticism with pinch of salt when needed, yet also reflect on my own weaknesses, and evident need to improve. It taught me to show up, whether I messed it up the week before or not, I had to face it all again, and do a good job. Without me nothing would happen. It taught me leadership and decision making, whether everyone looked ready or not, it was up to me to decide when to blow that first call and commence proceedings, and be confident enough to react to the situation. It exposed me to regular pressure, demands and expectation. And it taught me discipline. I needed to look the part, have the right equipment, turn up on time and be prepared to do the job.
Whilst many of these skills definitely don’t directly make me a better musician, the definitely made me a better business person. That’s given me an edge as it’s something a lot musicians, aren’t. Not a conventional school life, but one that had value in experiences, way beyond the grades attained.
Great, appreciate you sharing that with us. Before we ask you to share more of your insights, can you take a moment to introduce yourself and how you got to where you are today to our readers.
I’m a music producer, working primarily in country music (a little unusual for a UK native, certainly!). I work out of NAM Studios near Bath, UK, which has seen all sorts of huge names pass through its doors from Robert Plant to Van Morrison, and big UK records tracked there from artists like Royal Blood and KT Tunstall. My work is production only, outsourcing mixing and mastering to trusted professionals and friends. I typically will take what might be a basic acoustic guitar & vocal demo, and turn it into something that competes on country radio, with a full band sound, and all the little idiosyncrasies that make it sound like it belongs on that playlist between Carrie Underwood and Keith Urban. I work 90% remotely, which is in many ways my strength and specialism.
Given that the market for country music is primarily North American, I’ve built a workflow that makes it simple for artists outside of the main country hub of Nashville, to get their careers off the ground wherever they are, from small US towns, to Canada and Australia. It’s a 5 step back and forth process that gets the artist results in as little time as possible, really helpful if they’re up against a release deadline, whilst being fully involved in the vision and direction of the process. I’m yet to have anyone come back and say we’re not heading in the right direction by the first draft, so I must be doing something right!
I have a wide spanning musical background from my session playing days, and I would like to think that this gives me a broad scope as a producer to do what’s best for the song, rather than always rely on my go-to’s. There aren’t many avenues in western music I haven’t explored, and the ability to draw on those and understand where different artists might be coming from, is essential. It allows me to ensure that every project sounds unique, and brings out the best in the artist’s music, rather than trying to shoehorn what they’ve written, into my production style. Of course I have my tastes and likes. I love a big slamming snare drum, a healthy dose of syncopation, modern clean vocal production and big low end, but if we’re doing a neo-traditional country throwback track, I know those aren’t appropriate. I love a song crafted and shown in the perfect light, more than I like any of those elements individually. I think people trust that my tastes will stay authentic to their own vision, and the style of the music, more than anything. It’s more important that the hooks, groove, arrangement, and those crucial vocals, are right and feel great to a listener, more than the sonic aesthetics in which you dress a track.
I fell into music production as a by-product of the mass availability of home studio gear. I grew up as a teenager in the era where YouTube was just taking hold of music education, and getting a decent sound out of relatively cheap equipment was perfectly possible. I would spend every school holiday recording basic acoustic demos with band mates that would be not much different to the ‘bluebird’ style country arrangements I do now, for a simple country demo. 10 years later, post touring the world with artists, and post-COVID, I’m doing that every day for artists, taking their acoustic demos, bringing them to life, taking them to places that they’d maybe not even imagined.
I love that I get to work on such varied tracks, with people all over the world, and I really care about the result. I’m a perfectionist by nature, and if it’s not as good as I can do with my skills in that moment, I’m not happy. For me, the most important thing is for an artist to come to me with a track, and for me to have been able to help move their career forward in some way or another. Whether that’s connecting with more fans, delivering a track that playlistsers are clamouring to add to their playlist, or finally being the producer to deliver them a track that sounds radio ready to compete, I’m working to move the needle for them.
We often hear about learning lessons – but just as important is unlearning lessons. Have you ever had to unlearn a lesson?
A significant lesson I’ve had to unlearn is not to pre-judge the outcome of situations or interactions. We’re all built to understand and predict outcomes. It’s what keeps us safe as humans. But when it comes to interacting with others, it’s often what holds us back. It’s driven by the fear of rejection.
I might see an artist has, say, 70,000 followers, but I only have 1300. Now, I used to naturally talk myself out of the idea that someone with this disparity in statistic would ever have any reason to talk to me, and think that they may even laugh at me daring to approach them. But I’ve come to learn that it’s often these individuals who are more likely to want to connect. Maybe the chances are most other people are a little intimidated by the exact same thing? Either way, not coming in with a fear of rejection and preconceived reasons as to why someone might not want to converse with me, has been one big lesson to unlearn. It’s unnatural, but the results are there to see. I know I have value to offer, and to show people, worrying about statistics like this, in the grand scheme of things, is really insignificant. Life’s better this way!
What’s been the most effective strategy for growing your clientele?
Music, on the creative side, is not the same as many industries. It’s highly subjective, with a lot of people pouring their value into, and perceiving their own value, from their art. In that way, the most effective way to grow my clientele has been to connect on a personal level, help create something they’re proud of sharing, and understand their perspective. Reaching out and connecting personally with artists has been essential to my growth. It allows me to be sensitive to their needs, understand their personalities and art, and also come on board with their journey as part of their team. These are all things that creatives truly value and have helped grow my clientele.
Contact Info:
- Website: https://www.tylerspicermusic.com
- Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/tylerspicermusic/
- Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/@TylerSpicer/
Image Credits
Erin Fligel