Mixing and then Remixing Split:
Mike, Scott, Alan, four monkeys and a pinball machine

Many thanks to Neil I. for obtaining Miki's permission to publish this story.

Basically, we had such a nightmare with Split... Mike Hedges was great when we were at Rockfield recording the album, but he insisted we mix the album at his studio which was in the middle of nowhere (Domfront), France. This made huge financial sense to him as he would not only get a producer fee but also a studio fee (yes, I believe his reasons were that cynical!) and it also meant that he was happily at home with his family while we were cut off from everyone we knew and totally isolated. There was absolutely nothing to do in that place – no tv, no computer – a desolate little village with a bakery and a tiny unwelcoming bar. Mike had one pinball machine which – to be fair – was really excellent, but the stingy bastard made us pay to use it! Mostly, our days consisted of walking into town to change our money into 1 Franc pieces to use in the pinball machine. We must have put £500 into that fucking machine!!!

These were isolated and panicky times – our manager went awol, our Warners A&R man was going through a mid-lifer and Ivo had decided to retire from 4AD. Cut off from our usual network, we put our trust in Mike as the only person who – at least – had been involved in the record all along. A real mistake. By the time we got back to London the whole thing sounded like shit and we were thoroughly depressed.

At this point, names got bandied around for someone to come and rescue the sound of the record by remixing it.

Our manager, Howard Gough, organised a meeting at a restaurant in Portobello. We met with both Alan Moulder and Scott Litt. Howard was easily dazzled by wealthy Americans and had basically already made up his mind that we should work with Scott. His entire value system by then revolved around success as a barometer rather than taste.

I have to admit that we were in such a sorry state after our experience in France that we were barely communicative and had lost any confidence in our own judgement. Anyway – Scott seemed personable enough even if we couldn’t relate to him at all. Alan was instantly great – sympathetic and earnest and sweet-natured and just a breath of reviving air. Howard spent the entire meeting with Alan rubbishing UK indie music (Alan’s forte) while spouting on about how brilliant and talented Scott Litt was.

We went in the studio with Scott. Despite our reticence, Howard was so up the guy’s arse he virtually told us that if we were mad enough to pass over Scott when he was willing to subordinate himself and do us this grand favour by even LISTENING to our music, then our careers would be pretty much over in America.

What followed were 2 demoralising days in probably the most expensive studio in London. Scott pressed a few buttons on two tracks with little or no feedback from us. We sat there like 4 monkeys on a wall smiling tearfully and trying to muster some enthusiasm. The whole charade probably cost us a small fortune, but hey – Howard got to hang out with another rich American and we got 2 tracks out of it that sounded like Mike Hedges had mixed them in his sleep.

Then we went into the studio with Alan. Just half a day in I wanted to hang from his shoulders weeping with gratitude.
 

These photos from Lush's time at Domfront while Split was being mixed were generously provided by Phil King. (click on them for a high-res view)	...in the middle of nowhere, France
Mike Hedges' gloomy studio...
Ian Grimble and the Mixing Desk from Abbey Road Chris playing pinball Chris at Mixing Desk in the basement
Chris out by the pool, which was covered in the winter by a silver tent Chris in his bedroom

Life on the Lollapalooza Tour:
Boredom and Ulysses, in the midst of mayhem

Yes, well. Lollapalooza. I’m not sure I can actually remember that much of it. I do remember having a really good time but I think I actually acted like a complete moron for most of it. Travelling around with that kind of circus almost requires that you act like a retarded alcoholic drugged-up sex addict.

I think I started out with some books and cassettes, thinking – I know! I’m on tour for 9 weeks. I’ll do something constructive. I’ll finally get round to reading Ulysses and... I’ll... I’ll learn Italian!

After about 3 days of sobriety and application I think I was in danger of boring myself to death.

Touring means essentially spending an awful lot of time in transit with one defined group of people, constantly waiting for something to happen. It’s like being in a mobile prison, but in a fun way. However, the knock-on effects are the same. It quickly becomes obvious that the time passes much quicker if you are drunk/stoned/pursuing the opposite sex (ie, being distracted). This is why people in bands generally become drunks and drug-addicts who will fuck anything in the room. To a greater or lesser extent.

I don’t for a minute want to claim that we as a band indulged ourselves in an orgy of excess but – well – there’s a real can’t-beat-em-join-em aspect to touring and it takes a very strong person to stand in the midst of the mayhem and not even dip a toe.

Probably that’s ok, so long as you can then go home and pretend it never happened!