Slater Swan: local music connoisseur
A man able to find more time in a day than humanly, realistically possible, still finding time for resolutions
Alex McElroy
Issue date: 1/30/09 Section: Diversions
Everything goes into a name nowadays. When I first heard of Tila Tequila, I knew she was a skank. I deduced Superman to be some man of the super variety. Tara Williams reeks of Chaucer scholar. But Slater Swan? I don't get it. Someone who's both a fan of ugly ducks and layered rock? But it turns out he's an up-and-coming music producer.
Although Slater doesn't plan on changing his name to Ray Corder (or so I assume - I was too embarrassed to ask), he does see himself producing music throughout his foreseeable future. At 23-years-old, Slater already has a small studio in his home where he records "anyone who's willing." And it's there where he's worked on the Parker France Project and many smaller tasks, such as tweaking his own songs right to where he needs them. Right now, he's focusing on small jobs with Oregon State, working with the music department to record and perfect the orchestras and choirs of the university.
And the key term for Swan is "perfect." He labels himself a perfectionist, which might be why he feels so at home in the studio, touching up music bit by bit until it reaches the level he feels content with - content, of course, because no perfectionist can ever really be happy with what he's created. But it isn't easy for him to find time in the studio; not only does he work for the school, he also attends it (shades of the Hair Club for Men). If you're wondering what Slater does in between balancing those two activities, it's the same thing all time-strapped perfectionists do with their free time: take up a third profession. Swan commutes to Portland, where he works as director of a summer camp - I know it isn't summer, but they can't just wing it from the first day.
Although the camp job takes up much of his time, he sees it as a great way to earn the money necessary to foster the growth of his recording studio. And really, it's the only way for him to be able to survive. Slater says there's always another part needed (equipment that runs him around $1,500), and without a third job, the likelihood of maintaining the studio would all but diminish. So it seems as though that's the price one must pay to do what they love, spending their days working from 7 a.m. to midnight - no, not being awake. Working.
Although Slater doesn't plan on changing his name to Ray Corder (or so I assume - I was too embarrassed to ask), he does see himself producing music throughout his foreseeable future. At 23-years-old, Slater already has a small studio in his home where he records "anyone who's willing." And it's there where he's worked on the Parker France Project and many smaller tasks, such as tweaking his own songs right to where he needs them. Right now, he's focusing on small jobs with Oregon State, working with the music department to record and perfect the orchestras and choirs of the university.
And the key term for Swan is "perfect." He labels himself a perfectionist, which might be why he feels so at home in the studio, touching up music bit by bit until it reaches the level he feels content with - content, of course, because no perfectionist can ever really be happy with what he's created. But it isn't easy for him to find time in the studio; not only does he work for the school, he also attends it (shades of the Hair Club for Men). If you're wondering what Slater does in between balancing those two activities, it's the same thing all time-strapped perfectionists do with their free time: take up a third profession. Swan commutes to Portland, where he works as director of a summer camp - I know it isn't summer, but they can't just wing it from the first day.
Although the camp job takes up much of his time, he sees it as a great way to earn the money necessary to foster the growth of his recording studio. And really, it's the only way for him to be able to survive. Slater says there's always another part needed (equipment that runs him around $1,500), and without a third job, the likelihood of maintaining the studio would all but diminish. So it seems as though that's the price one must pay to do what they love, spending their days working from 7 a.m. to midnight - no, not being awake. Working.
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