Behind the Scenes of Soft Shoulders

A Tribute to Ack van Rooyen

It’s impossible to think of Soft Shoulders without thinking of the man who made it so special – the legendary Ack van Rooyen. This album, recorded live in Studio 2 of the MCO in Hilversum, turned out to be one of Ack’s very last recordings. He played until the very end of his remarkable life, and even in his nineties, his sound was filled with that unmistakable warmth, grace, and lyrical depth that had touched generations of listeners.

Ack’s career is the stuff of jazz history. From his early years playing with the Dutch Jazz Orchestra, his work with Kurt Edelhagen, and his long collaboration with his brother Jerry van Rooyen, to his later recordings with The Metropole Orchestra and European big bands, Ack’s tone was always instantly recognizable, pure gold on brass. Though he was loved by an older jazz audience, Ack would often smile and say, “I always play for a young audience.” It was this youthful curiosity and joy that kept his music alive, right until the very last note.

Two Days of Recording – Spreading the Energy

For Soft Shoulders, we planned two recording days in Studio 2. At Ack’s age, the only limitation he faced was endurance; he could no longer perform at peak energy for long stretches. Splitting the work over two days allowed him to stay fresh and focused.

The live concert at the end of the second day was divided into two short sets of about half an hour each. It turned out to be a wise decision — every note radiated clarity and intention.

At the end of the first day, I offered Ack and pianist Juraj Stanik a ride back to the hotel. Juraj, a bit exhausted, sighed, “That was intense… I’m tired.” Ack turned to him with a twinkle in his eye and said, “The youth isn’t what it used to be.” That moment summed up who he was, humble, humorous and always in control of the atmosphere.

A New Challenge: One Stereo Microphone

Although Ack had recorded countless albums, there was something new about this session: we were going to record with just one stereo microphone, a Josephson C700S. This One Mic Recording technique is at the heart of Sound Liaison’s philosophy: capturing musicians as naturally as possible, preserving their spatial relationship and the sound of the room.

We first positioned the piano so that it would also sit well visually for the live audience the next day, no need to move it later. Then Ack, who preferred sitting on a stool, found a comfortable position in relation to both the piano and the microphone. For Ack, this approach required some patience. We spent time testing and repositioning him and to achieve the perfect balance, until the sound felt right, warm, balanced and true to their natural dynamics. Every time Ack wanted to hear the result, he had to walk to the control room. But once we found the sweet spot, everything fell into place.

The biggest challenge was psychological. Ack had spent his entire life playing into his personal microphone. Now, I asked him to forget the mic altogether and simply play toward the audience. Once he relaxed into that mindset, the music opened up beautifully.

The First Take

Though our plan was to use the live concert as the main source for the album, we decided to record a few backup takes, just in case something didn’t go perfectly during the concert. This gave Ack a sense of calm; he knew we already had something special preserved.

When we were finally ready to roll, Peter Bjørnild, my Sound Liaison partner, said he needed a quick visit to the restroom. Ack smiled and said, “Start the tape anyway.” By the time Peter returned, the first take was already in the can, and it was beautiful.

That’s what experience sounds like. Ack didn’t need to warm up; he simply was music.

Friendship in Sound

One of the most moving aspects of Soft Shoulders is the deep friendship between Ack and Juraj. You can feel it in every track, the way Juraj’s piano gently supports Ack’s phrasing, how they listen to one another, leaving space, breathing together. It’s a dialogue between two souls who trust each other completely, and that intimacy is what makes this recording so timeless.

Technical Notes

The recording was made in PCM DXD 352 kHz, the highest resolution we were working with at that time. The acoustic beauty of MCO Studio 2, a room that has hosted so many legendary Dutch recordings, shines through in every note.

Listening back now, I sometimes wonder what Ack would sound like if we could have recorded him in (Pure) DSD256, our current reference format. But of course, you can’t redo magic moments like these, they exist once, perfectly, as memories.

Remembering Ack

As I write this, the idea arises to organize a tribute, a project where a young generation of trumpet players, all inspired by Ack, perform his favorite tunes. It feels like the right way to honor him: keeping his sound alive through new voices.

Ack van Rooyen was a remarkable man and a magnificent musician. His tone, humor, and humanity are forever etched into Soft Shoulders. When you listen to this album, you are not just hearing music, you are hearing a life well lived, captured forever in sound.

Where to find the album

Soft Shoulders by Ack van & Juraj Stanik is available directly via Sound Liaison: https://soundliaison.com/products/ack-van-rooyen-juraj-stanik-soft-shoulders . For high-resolution downloads, visit the above link and select your preferred format.

Way Over Yonder by 3 Hands Clapping

by Frans de Rond, Sound Liaison

There are recording sessions that feel like magic from the very first note. The recording of Way Over Yonder by 3 Hands Clapping was one of those rare moments, not only because of the trio’s artistry, but because it brought my own musical story full circle.

Remembering Bart Fermie (1955–2025)

Before diving into the technical side, I want to take a moment to remember Bart Fermie, the percussionist on this session, who passed away unexpectedly earlier this year. Bart was an extraordinary musician, sensitive, inventive and deeply musical. His rhythmic sensibility shaped the entire performance. I feel privileged to have captured one of his final recordings, a living testament to his spirit and musicianship.

From “Sesjun” to Studio 2

When I was in my early 20's, I tuned into the Dutch radio show Sesjun, which broadcast live jazz concerts. That night, a band called Batida was performing. I had never heard of them before, but hearing Theo de Jong play fretless bass that evening was a life-changing experience.

Theo’s tone was lyrical, his phrasing melodic and emotional. I was completely captivated. That moment made me realize what I wanted to dedicate my life to: music and recording.

Almost forty years later, Theo is standing in front of our microphones, together with two other long-time heroes: Peter Tiehuis on guitar, known for his work with, among others, the Metropole Orchestra and Bart Fermie on percussion. To have them in my studio felt surreal, like time folding back on itself.

Capturing the Trio Live

The recording of Way Over Yonder was done live at MCO Studio 2 in Hilversum, one of my favorite acoustic spaces. The trio performed their own arrangements of some well-known timeless pop songs. No overdubs, no edits, no headphones, just three musicians communicating in real time.

For this session, I wanted to explore depth and realism by using — in addition to the other microphones, a single stereo microphone setup with the Josephson C700S. I was still in an experimental phase, looking for the best way this mic could work for me. Instead of placing the main mic in front of the band, I positioned it behind the percussion, above Bart’s setup. From there, the mic could capture not only his instruments but also the natural projection of Theo’s bass amp and Peter’s guitar amps, all blending together in the air.

The Stereo Guitar Setup

Peter’s guitar setup deserves special mention. His amplification was stereo, with two separate speaker cabinets. Instead of close-miking each cabinet individually, which would mean electronically mixing two channels later, I decided to place one stereo microphone (Audio Technica 4050ST) at a distance that captured both cabinets simultaneously.

This approach made a some serious difference. When you close-mic each speaker and combine the signals in the mix, the stereo image is constructed electronically. But when you record the sound as it exists in the air, the stereo image forms naturally. The interaction of the speakers with the room, the phase relationship, the reflections — everything blends organically before it reaches the microphone. The result is a wider, more coherent and three-dimensional sound that feels alive.

The Bass, the Voice, the Human Touch

Theo’s acoustic bass was recorded using two sources: one microphone near the amp and another directly from the bass (DI). Blending these gave the bass a natural presence and helped it sit perfectly with the guitar and percussion.

Theo also does something many jazz musicians do: he sings softly while he solos. Those subtle vocalizations add an extra human dimension; they remind you that the sound is not just produced by strings and wood, but by emotion from the heart.

Percussion using omni-directionals

The complete percussion kit was captured using a Decca Tree configuration, three omnidirectional microphones arranged in a “T” shape, with one center mic and two spaced left/right mics. This setup captures a natural stereo image with excellent depth and spaciousness. The Decca Tree technique, originally developed for orchestral recordings, works beautifully for percussion as well, allowing every nuance of Bart’s playing to breathe while maintaining a coherent image of the entire kit within the room. The result is a tactile, three-dimensional sense of space.

The Sound of Space and Resolution

As always at that time at Sound Liaison, the session was recorded in DXD 352 kHz/24-bit, preserving every nuance and micro-dynamic detail. Studio 2’s natural acoustics did the rest. With no isolation, the air around the instruments became part of the music itself.

When you listen back, you can sense that space — the trio breathing together, the shimmer of the percussion fading into the room, the warmth of Theo’s bass blending with Peter’s guitar harmonics. It’s not just stereo; it’s dimensional.

Listen Closely

So, when you play Way Over Yonder, sit between your speakers and close your eyes. You’ll hear Peter’s wide, breathing guitar tone, Theo’s lyrical bass lines, and Bart’s subtle rhythms guiding it all.

It’s more than a recording — it’s a living moment, preserved in sound.

Listen to the album: 3 Hands Clapping – Way Over Yonder
Recorded, mixed and mastered by Frans de Rond, Sound Liaison

Natural interaction, one circle, one take: recording without headphones

At Sound Liaison, we are always searching for ways to make recordings that capture the true essence of live musical communication — no barriers, no artificial separation, just musicians interacting naturally in a beautiful acoustic space.
So when the band came to us with the wish “we want to play without headphones”, it immediately defined the spirit of this session with Gidon Nunes Vaz (trumpet), Karl-Martin Almqvist (tenor saxophone), Timothy Blanchet (piano), Kas Jiskoot (bass), and Martijn Vink (drums).

Building the circle

Martijn’s first request was simple and very human: “We want to stand as close together as possible so we can hear and see each other.”
That single sentence shaped everything that followed.

We started by positioning the piano — the one instrument that couldn’t easily move. Once the piano found its spot in the room, we began building the circle around it.
The drums came next, placed on a rug and moved as close as possible toward the piano — so close that the edge of the ride cymbal actually ended up tucked slightly under the piano lid.
Between drums and piano we placed Kas on double bass, creating a compact rhythm section where communication was instant and physical.

From there, we completed the circle: the horns, Gidon and Karl-Martin, were positioned next to each other, to the right of the drums and at the head of the piano. This gave everyone clear sight lines and a natural stereo field — every musician could see and hear everyone else without the need for headphones.

When the setup was complete, the feeling in the room changed immediately. The musicians were suddenly in it together: no monitoring, no isolation, just shared sound in shared air. The connection was immediate — a conversation instead of a construction.

The acoustic advantage of close proximity

A fascinating acoustic phenomenon occurs when musicians play very close together, even in a large studio: the spill (or bleed) between microphones becomes far less roomy.
Because each microphone captures more direct sound from nearby instruments and less reflected sound from walls and ceiling, the spill loses its diffuse, ambient quality. Instead, it adds definition and presence to the total sound.

Rather than causing muddiness, this kind of spill actually glues the recording together. Each instrument slightly colors its neighbors, creating a natural blend and a cohesive sonic image. The result is a tighter, more focused soundstage — one that feels open, intimate, and incredibly real.
It’s one of the great paradoxes of recording: the closer the players are to one another, the more natural the recording sounds.

Challenges for the engineer

For me as the recording engineer, this close-circle setup brought a beautiful set of challenges. With every instrument only inches apart, microphone placement became a matter of precision and intention.
The goal was not to fight the bleed — it was to make it work for the music. When managed carefully, the interaction between mics becomes part of the recording’s depth, not its problem.

Microphone setup

• Piano — Inside the grand piano I used an AEA stereo ribbon microphone in Blumlein configuration. Blumlein uses two figure-eight ribbons crossed at 90°, capturing sound from the front and back while rejecting from the sides. This characteristic helped control drum spill while maintaining a warm, realistic stereo image. The result was a beautifully defined, dimensional piano tone that sat naturally in the mix.

• Drums — The drums were captured with two omnidirectional overhead microphones, giving a full, balanced image of the kit (excluding the kick) and a pleasing sense of openness. These omni mics also picked up some of the piano at a distance, which broadened the piano’s stereo field and enriched the total sound.
  To complete the drum picture, I added a Josephson C715 on the bass drum. This large-diaphragm condenser delivers tremendous clarity and weight without aggression. Placed just inside the resonant head, it provided the solid low-end anchor the rhythm section needed, perfectly complementing the natural tone of the overheads.

• Bass — The double bass was mic’d with a Neumann M149, positioned for both warmth and definition — a round tone with enough “finger sound” to feel the pulse. A small acoustic panel between bass and drums gave minimal separation while keeping full visual contact intact.

• Horns — Both Gidon Nunes Vaz and Karl-Martin Almqvist chose Coles ribbon microphones. These ribbons produce a rich, warm, and smooth tone — perfect for brass and reeds.
  Because both horn players performed directly into their mics, and horns are naturally loud sources, bleed was never an issue. In fact, the subtle amount of spill between the horns and rhythm section added coherence and a beautiful sense of shared space.

Recording in Pure DSD256

The entire session was captured in pure DSD256, one of the most transparent formats available today.
When we listened back to the first takes, the musicians were stunned by the realism. Gidon’s reaction was priceless. When I briefly switched playback to PCM (using real-time sample-rate conversion in Merging Pyramix) for comparison, he looked at me and said, slightly alarmed:

“Where is my sound? The sound is gone. Can I still listen to DSD256?”

When I switched back, he smiled with relief:

“Ah, good — the sound is still there.”

That moment summed up perfectly what DSD256 does: it’s not just about numbers or dynamic range, it’s about emotion. Musicians feel the difference. The sound seems to breathe with them.
As Karl-Martin later said:

“I hear in the recording literally what I hear downstairs while playing. It’s fascinating.”

About DSD and real-time conversion

For those unfamiliar with DSD workflows: DSD256 records audio as a 1-bit signal at 11.2 MHz, capturing extreme nuance and transient detail.
Merging Pyramix allows real-time sample-rate conversion between DSD and high-resolution PCM (DXD, 352.8 kHz/24-bit) for editing. This means we can make precise edits in DXD while maintaining the full purity of the DSD256 recording for playback and mastering.

Reflections

This session reaffirmed what I’ve always been searching for as an engineer: a way to capture not just the sound, but the feel of a performance.
By first positioning the piano, then building a true circle of musicians around it, we created an environment of shared air and shared energy — and captured it with the fidelity that pure DSD256 makes possible.

The combination of:

• the organic circular layout,

• the carefully chosen microphones (especially the Blumlein piano and Josephson C715 on bass drum),

• the tight yet natural spill, and

• the depth and realism of DSD256,

…resulted in a recording that feels alive, open, and profoundly human.

At Sound Liaison, we’ll keep exploring this path. Pure DSD256 recording offers musicians and listeners something rare — an unfiltered, emotionally direct window into the music itself.

Thanks to Gidon Nunes Vaz, Karl-Martin Almqvist, Timothy Blanchet, Kas Jiskoot, and Martijn Vink for this inspiring session.

For more about our DSD recording techniques, microphone setups, and upcoming high-resolution releases, visit www.soundliaison.com.

Rediscovering the Lost Mojo

By Frans de Rond, Engineer at Sound Liaison

When I began my career as a recording engineer, the very first digital technologies were just appearing on the horizon. But in those early years, my world was still completely analog. Recording meant placing a microphone, routing it through a mixing console, and capturing it on a multitrack tape machine. Mixing meant taking that multitrack tape, running it back through the console, and printing a stereo master on a two-track tape machine. The entire process was tactile, immediate, and deeply connected to the physical medium.

Then came the digital revolution. When the first digital workstations arrived, the possibilities felt endless. Suddenly, you could manipulate sound in ways that had never been possible before. You could align notes perfectly, correct pitch with precision, and use a vast arsenal of plug-ins to shape the sound with EQ, compression, and effects. Most of these plug-ins were (and still are) modeled on classic analog gear. At the time, there were questions about sound quality, but over the decades digital processing made huge strides forward.

Now, forty years later, an entire generation of engineers has grown up working exclusively in the digital domain. Many of them have never experienced what it is like to record and mix entirely in analog. And as a result, that particular “sound”  - the analog mojo -  is slowly disappearing from our collective memory.

Music lovers who still spin vinyl records on a high-quality turntable know what I am talking about. There is a presence, a warmth, an emotional immediacy that is different from the polished precision of digital.

This year, as I started recording in DSD256 at Sound Liaison, I made a decision that brought me back to my roots: I installed a fully refurbished Studer 961 console for monitoring and mixing. I was blown away by the quality of this 40-year-old desk. The sound was so inspiring during playback that I decided to take the bold step of doing the full mix through the Studer as well.

And what happened surprised even me. Compared to mixing entirely in PCM, something intangible returned. Something I could only describe as familiar, a sound from the past, a sound we had somehow lost along the way.

The realization hit me hard: blinded by the limitless possibilities of digital recording and mixing, we had unknowingly thrown away something valuable. With the Studer in the chain, the sound and the mojo were back.

The experience is almost overwhelming. It feels like listening to a finished album rather than a session that still needs fixing. Instead of reaching for endless tweaks, the music itself takes over. There is a natural flow, a depth, and a three-dimensional quality that simply draws you in.

Sometimes I wonder: am I just imagining this? Am I nostalgic for something that isn’t really there? But again and again, the musicians themselves confirm it.

A few weeks ago, drummer Bruno Castellucci was sitting on the studio couch listening to playback. After a few minutes he turned to me and said: “Man, the sound I lost in the 90’s is back again.” That gave me goosebumps. Because I knew exactly what he meant.

And speaking of goosebumps, that has become the norm when playing back a DSD256 recording through the Studer 961. Time after time, both musicians and listeners react physically to the sound. It’s not just “a good take” or “an emotional performance.” There is something more, something harder to define. With PCM recordings, we often felt that a take was strong, but there was always a subtle sense that something was missing. With the Studer and DSD256, that missing element suddenly reveals itself.

It’s like the famous story of the Native Americans not recognizing Columbus’s ships when they first appeared, simply because they had no frame of reference for such a thing. In the same way, many of us no longer hear the analog mojo because we’ve never experienced it, or we’ve forgotten what it sounds like. But once you hear it again, you know instantly what was lost.

At Sound Liaison, we are passionate about capturing performances with the highest possible fidelity, using DSD256 technology and now also embracing the analog domain for mixing. The combination is breathtaking. It is as if the best of both worlds, the precision of modern digital recording and the soul of analog mixing, come together in a way that is both timeless and new.

For me, mixing in the analog domain is not about nostalgia. It is about reconnecting with an authenticity that too often gets buried under layers of digital perfection. It is about sound that moves you before you even realize why. It is about bringing back the goosebumps.

And this journey has only just begun.

To be continued…