Thomas Hagen: When did you first start recording music, and what inspired you to start?
Isabel Furman: I think I started messing around with recording freshman year of college, home on breaks. My brothers knew more about this stuff when I started recording, so they were really helpful, showing me how to use the equipment. My younger brother had this Tascam that he used to record drums, and he showed me how to set up a DAW and plug everything in, and that I had to use headphones to reduce the noise bleed; giving me the basic means to do stuff and then I took it from there. Having some songs, bored with nothing to do on college breaks, I tried to put some stuff together and I ended up recording a couple of demos. But I always hated recording until I did it in a studio, because you’re just sitting there with all the mistakes you’ve made, and that you continue to make every time you do a take. Being in a studio really streamlines the process.
TH: When did you first start working on the songs on Beaches?
IF: It’s been such a long time! [laughs] That’s part of what feels so funny about this album – I think the oldest song on the record is “Desert Creature” and I wrote that in the summer before my senior year of college – it’s just been a hot minute. So I feel like I’m trying to puzzle-piece together all these different snapshots of the last five years of my life, and try to turn it into some kind of cohesive narrative, some kind of thematic similarity, but they really are from all these different parts of the last couple of years.
TH: How did the recording process for this album compare to the process for past recordings you’ve made?
IF: This is my first studio experience – I felt like I was staying in a luxurious hotel compared to a crappy AirBnB. [laughs] So it was very cool, very exciting, really scary. My EP Medicine was recorded in my friend’s dorm room in college, and basements and other bedrooms and small DIY setups. Really just one interface and one microphone on each instrument and nothing fancy, no pedals, nothing, just trying to make it as simple as we could. And then “Amelia” was recorded virtually, just sending files back and forth between my brother and I.
And then I just went for it with this record; I knew that I wanted to do it in a studio because it felt like a big deal, and it was great. I guess I didn’t realized how fine-tuned you can get with studio recordings, editing down to the word to get the right vocal take. [laughs] it’s kind of crazy. But I think it helped me take the process a little more seriously and also have fun with it, because you have this big room where you can just play, and you can let things happen kind of spontaneously because the resources you need are at your hands.
Headroom is great, I had just so much fun there with Johanna Baumann. She had a lot of input, she’s a seasoned pro. She was really helpful in terms of [feedback like] “I think doubling the vocal here would give it a cool effect,” or “Let’s try to use this effect on this track,” or “If I mic the drums in this way you’ll get this kind of tone” – so she had a lot of really good ideas about how we could get the sounds we wanted. She also helped with production stuff; she sang backup vocals on one of the tracks and played keys on one of the tracks. It was me, Johanna and Eli really pushing through the whole thing.
TH: Has the meaning or importance of any of these songs changed since you first wrote them?
IF: Oh yeah. Like before, about when I started writing these songs – I think part of writing something over the course of so many years is that, you write something in the moment that you’re feeling that thing, and then you’re gonna look back on that and feel totally different about that feeling. Especially because so much of the record was written in emotional volatility, I was just feeling like I really needed to get everything out without thinking about what I was trying to say. It’s only later that I can look back and suss out the meaning, where those songs were coming from. But there’s a real-life heat-of-the-moment effect that happens when you’re just trying to get it out.