Why we chose to record at Tiny Telephone Studio
Dee and Christoph spent the better part of two years writing songs in kitchens, cafes, and long drives between shows in the Bay Area. By the time we had a stack of finished demos ready for a real studio, we knew we needed somewhere that treated sound like a craft and treated musicians like collaborators. The decision about where to lay the tracks down turned into one of the most important calls of the whole project.
San Francisco has a long history of rooms where bands and songwriters have built careers, and Tiny Telephone keeps showing up in conversation whenever artists talk about lasting records. We had heard stories from touring mates who passed through Melbourne and Brisbane that Aussie labels pay close attention to where a record was cut, almost like a stamp of intent. With that in mind, the search narrowed quickly.
Choosing the room
The first session we booked at Tiny Telephone felt less like entering a facility and more like visiting a workshop. The ceilings in Studio B are high enough that a vocalist can push without the room folding back, and the monitoring has the honest midrange that folk-leaning records demand. Studios we had toured before felt either too clinical or too cluttered, and Tiny Telephone split the difference in a way that suited our mix of acoustic layers and slightly louder crescendos.
| Studio element | Tiny Telephone | Typical home studio | Big-box commercial room |
|---|---|---|---|
| Monitoring character | Warm, midrange-forward | Variable, often small | Polished, sometimes flattering |
| Engineer involvement | Encouraged and hands-on | DIY or remote | Project-based, less continuity |
| Natural light | Yes, in select rooms | Depends on the spare bedroom | Rare |
| Gear variety | Curated, vintage-leaning | Whatever is on hand | Newest releases on display |
One thing we kept noticing was how the preamps coloured the cellos and the baritone guitar without smearing the high end on the cymbals. Other rooms we auditioned in the Bay Area and in Melbourne's Brunswick ward delivered big console energy but missed the intimacy we wanted for the quieter passages. Tiny Telephone held that rare combination of warmth and clarity, and it became the deciding factor for the rhythm sessions.
Working with an engineer as a partner
The engineer had worked on records we had worn out on long drives, which immediately set a tone of mutual respect. He listened to our demos the night before the first day and came back with notes about mic placement and a rough fader sketch for the opening track. That kind of preparation is not standard at every studio we considered, and it freed us up to focus on performance instead of cable management.
We learned to trust the room's quirks too. The slight slap off the back wall in Studio A gave the vocal stack a halo we ended up keeping on three songs. Our engineer caught the problem before we did and offered solutions that preserved the character rather than sanding it off. It reminded us of how a good producer in Sydney's Inner West would handle a young band, with patience and a clear point of view.
Capturing the live feel
A lot of the songs started life at open mics and pub shows, so they had a particular bounce to them that we did not want to lose. At Tiny Telephone we tracked the core band together in the larger room and added overdubs later, which kept the breathing and the eye contact intact. The result sits somewhere between a stage recording and a fully produced album, and that blend felt true to how the songs actually grew.
The drum kit in the live room had been used on records we recognised from Triple J rotation, and that history added a layer of meaning to every take. Even the patches on the toms told a story about which drummers had swung through the week before. We tracked the kit with two overheads and a room mic, then let the engineer ride the levels in the mix, which kept the performance honest.
What the process gave back
Recording there shifted how we think about rehearsal. The studio demanded a kind of focused listening that gigging often hides, and the songs gained weight because of it. We also walked away with a folder of recordings we will revisit for years, a body of work that reflects the best of what the band could do in one focused week.
Friends in Adelaide and Perth who work in studios told us the same thing about their favourite rooms. The best studios are the ones that make musicians braver, not the ones with the most expensive walls. Tiny Telephone did that for us, and we will carry the lessons from those sessions into the next record and the next tour.
Listening from the other side of the world
When friends in Australia first heard the mixes, a few of them asked about the room before they asked about the songs. That reaction told us we had made the right call. Local musicians in Fitzroy and Newtown, the sorts of neighbourhoods where live music still thrives, have a sharp ear for where a record was made, and they picked up on the Tiny Telephone signature straight away.
The tracks will be released one at a time over the coming months, with the first single landing in late spring on the Northern Hemisphere calendar. We are lining up a few East Coast dates in Australia once the touring window opens, including a Melbourne show we have been planning with friends who run a Brunswick venue. Anyone who wants to follow the release schedule or book us for a regional festival run can get in touch and we will reply as soon as we are back at a desk.
From here the next concrete step is to finish the vinyl master for the Australian pressing plant, which will lock in the release schedule and put the first East Coast shows on sale.
