The best mix isn’t always the perfect mix …
I saw an incredible photo on Facebook the other day. A farmer is sitting on a tractor, casually looking over his shoulder, while in the background a fighter jet is moments away from hitting the ground. The pilot had apparently ejected, and the aircraft is almost vertical, perhaps a hundred metres above the earth. You can see the photo here.
What makes the photo so powerful isn’t just the timing. It’s the farmer – he seems completely unfazed, as if he’s thinking, “What’s that noise?” or “Are those birds?” The contrast between everyday life and impending disaster creates something unforgettable.
Technically, it’s not a perfect photograph – it’s black and white and grainy. Yet it has far more impact than many technically flawless images I’ve seen. It got me thinking about music production. As engineers, producers, and musicians, we’re often chasing perfection. We tweak EQs, adjust levels, align performances, edit timing, remove noises, and polish every detail until everything sits exactly where it should. There’s nothing wrong with that most of the time.
Some albums are celebrated for their engineering excellence. One that immediately comes to mind is the album Brothers in Arms by Dire Straits. It’s famous for its exceptional engineering, incredible musicianship, and beautifully crafted production. But many of my favourite records sit at the opposite end of the spectrum. Some were recorded quickly, are rough around the edges, or contain performances that aren’t technically perfect – at times even chaotic. Yet they captured something special in the moment – I’m especially thinking of live albums of many old punk bands I love. And that’s often what listeners connect with.
Most people don’t sit down with a song and analyse whether the snare is perfectly compressed or whether the vocal has been edited to microscopic precision. They respond to how the music makes them feel. That’s why it’s important to be careful when polishing a mix. Every adjustment should make the song better however, sometimes in our quest for perfection, we can accidentally sand off the rough edges that gave it character in the first place. The break in a vocalist’s take, the bass note that’s a fraction late but somehow adds groove or the guitar part with amp noise that isn’t perfectly clean but feels alive. These imperfections can be the musical equivalent of that farmer and the fighter jet. They create tension, personality, and impact.
When I’m mixing, I try to keep asking myself a simple question: “Am I improving this, or am I removing what makes it special?” There isn’t a right answer. Every song is different – some songs benefit from polish, others are better with rough edges. I guess I’m the opposite to the audiophiles who spend a fortune of high-end snake-oil systems then only seek out the most perfectly recorded material to play on them.
The art of mixing isn’t about choosing perfection or imperfection. It’s about finding the balance between the two. Because sometimes the things that make a recording memorable are the very things that a perfectionist might be tempted to edit out.
