This previous post is poignant and pertinent.
Truth is, I saw no art. This revelation is the real source of frustration for me. I'm pretty generous, really. I've given plenty of time to plenty of artists because they were artists.
But, then again, taking this post to heart, I'll admit I was really in no mood to put up with poor musicianship and disregard for what, ultimately, is a creative input I wanted to contribute, but the client didn't want. To their detriment or not (I of course feel listening to me would have been a good idea), they didn't want it. I was there to record (their schlock) as well as I could. I don't know that I did that. I don't know that I even tried, really. I mean, you've heard about polishing a turd, right? But if that's what was asked of me - well, I'm conflicted. My livelihood is not tied to gigs like this. At worst, I earn some bad will. That's bad. But, from this band, I don't care. Maybe.
Am I burying myself? This would be so much easier if it were my sole source of income. I'd totally know the right thing to do: work.
All this said, I don't think the cassette-to-cassette-to-cassette-to-shrubbery scenario is really fair. The player I want to be, the engineer-producer role I want to play, really, would have been a huge influence in my favorite album's sound, regardless of who they are, or how much static, wow, flutter or mud is on the master. That's just a bad master. The process is interesting to me. Not this particular process, though.
If audio engineering were a panting? Man, I have no idea. The quality of paint? Sure. Yes. Absolutely. But it would also be the size of the canvas. The lighting cast upon it. The decision whether it's canvas or plaster or any other medium. The difference between umber and burnt umber. Is that important? Hell, yeah. Do I want to make those decisions? Hell, yeah.
Ah, man: it's after midnight and my girlfriend is on the couch next to me, watching a Tivo'd episode of Survivor, and I'm staring at a laptop. I don't know anything, and that's all I really know.
L