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Some recording sessions stay with you forever. Not because everything went according to plan, but because every person involved shared the same vision: to capture something genuine. Recording Sketches of Seasons with pianist Atzko Kohashi and percussionist Eddy Koopman was one of those rare experiences.

The project was initiated by producer Harry van Dalen, whose vision was beautifully simple: make the purest recording possible. No unnecessary processing, no technical tricks, no artificial enhancement. Just outstanding musicians, an exceptional acoustic environment, and a recording chain capable of preserving every subtle musical nuance.

Sometimes the most ambitious productions are built on the simplest ideas.

To push that philosophy even further, we incorporated an extraordinary collection of ultra-high-end audio equipment into the recording chain. Premium cables, carefully optimized power supplies, and Schnerzinger technology were all part of the setup. Schnerzinger products are designed to reduce electromagnetic interference around audio equipment, creating an electrically quieter environment that allows the recording chain to perform at its absolute best. Whether one approaches this from a purely technical or listening perspective, our goal was clear: remove every possible obstacle between the musicians and the microphones. (Schnerzinger)

Before a single note could be recorded, an enormous collection of percussion instruments had to be carried into Studio 2. Drum after drum, cymbals, bells, wooden instruments, gongs, shakers, everything imaginable found its place. Unfortunately, one beautiful ceramic percussion instrument did not survive the journey and shattered before the recording even began. A painful loss, but fortunately Eddy's collection was vast enough to continue.

Once everything was assembled, the percussion setup became an impressive circle of instruments covering virtually the entire audible spectrum, from the deepest bass drum to shimmering cymbals and delicate high-frequency percussion. Every instrument was positioned within easy reach, allowing Eddy to move effortlessly through an extraordinary palette of colors.

The recording setup itself was remarkably straightforward.

The Steinway grand piano was positioned with its lid opening towards the percussion, allowing the sound of both instruments to blend naturally in the recording. We recorded the piano with a single Josephson C700S microphone. The percussion setup was centered around another Josephson C700S, supported by a widely spaced pair of omni microphones to capture the complete soundstage and natural balance of the instrument circle. Two discreet spot microphones provided only gentle support where needed, but what you predominantly hear on the album is the natural stereo image created by the Josephson microphone and the pair of omnis. The philosophy remained unchanged throughout the session: less is more.

Musically, the concept revolved around the four seasons.

Atzko and Eddy had prepared a musical atmosphere for Spring, Summer, Autumn and Winter, but beyond those starting points there was enormous freedom for improvisation. That made every take exciting, even for us in the control room. None of us knew exactly where the music would go.

One of the greatest recording challenges came from Eddy's astonishing dynamic range. His entire percussion performance is played exclusively with his hands, producing an incredibly expressive and organic sound. Within seconds he could move from the faintest whisper on a cymbal to the overwhelming impact of a large bass drum. Combined with an instrument collection spanning almost the entire frequency spectrum, careful gain staging became absolutely essential.

Studio 2 played an equally important role.

Its acoustics allow sound to breathe. Instead of early reflections dominating the recording, the room gives every instrument the space to fully develop before the ambience gently surrounds it. You don't simply hear the percussion, you experience the air moving around it. That natural acoustic space became an invisible third musician during the session.

Perhaps that is what made this recording so memorable.

Atzko shapes every phrase with remarkable sensitivity, while Eddy responds instinctively with rhythm, texture and colour. Both musicians literally create music with their hands, directly from the heart and entirely in the moment. There was a beautiful interaction not only between the performers themselves, but also between the musicians and the recording team.

Harry van Dalen knew exactly what emotional result he wanted to achieve and challenged Michael van Polen and myself to realize that vision without unnecessary complexity. Simplicity, precision and trust became the guiding principles throughout the day.

After many hours of concentrated work, four remarkable performances had been captured.

Years later, I still encounter Sketches of Seasons at the High End exhibition in Munich, where loudspeaker manufacturers regularly use the album to demonstrate the capabilities of their finest systems. Every time I unexpectedly hear those familiar opening notes coming from another demonstration room, I cannot help but smile.

It reminds me why we make recordings like this.

Not to impress with technology, but to preserve a musical moment so honestly that, years later, it still allows listeners to feel as if they are sitting in the room with the musicians.

That is something I remain deeply proud of, and profoundly grateful to have been part of.

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By Frans de Rond

Every recording starts with one thing: the music.

At Sound Liaison, our goal has never been to create perfect recordings. Instead, we strive to capture something far more valuable: the essence and emotion of a musical performance. Technology is important, of course, but it should always serve the music, never the other way around.

For us, the journey of a recording begins long before the microphones are placed in the studio. It starts with finding musicians and ensembles that share our philosophy. We are always searching for artists who understand the beauty of acoustic music and who are willing to embrace a recording process that prioritizes honesty, spontaneity, and musical interaction.

Whenever possible, we record with a single stereo microphone. The simplicity of a One Mic recording remains one of the most powerful ways to capture a performance. Not every ensemble is suitable for this approach, however. Some instrument combinations require additional support, and in those cases we carefully complement the main stereo microphone with a limited number of spot microphones. The objective remains the same: preserve the natural balance and interaction of the musicians while maintaining a realistic soundstage.

Preparation is a crucial part of the process. Before entering the studio, we spend considerable time discussing the repertoire and making sure everyone understands what lies ahead. This is particularly important for a pure One Mic recording. The musicians know that the focus is entirely on the performance and the moment itself. There are few opportunities for repair afterwards. No endless editing. No assembling a performance note by note.

Interestingly, this limitation often becomes a strength. The concentration increases. The intention becomes stronger. Everyone listens more carefully. The result is a performance that feels alive because it truly is alive.

Today, we record most of our sessions in DSD256. This format allows us to preserve an extraordinary amount of information and makes the concept of One Band & One Mic even more compelling. The transparency and realism of DSD256 help us capture the subtle details that make acoustic music so engaging.

Once the recording session is finished and everyone is satisfied with the takes, we do something that may seem unusual: we put the project aside for a few weeks.

We do this intentionally.

Immediately after a recording session, musicians often remember every small imperfection, every note they wished they had played differently. By allowing some time to pass, those memories fade. When the listening copies arrive a few weeks later, the musicians can approach the recordings with fresh ears and a more objective perspective. Often they discover that what felt like a mistake during the session actually contributes to the character and authenticity of the performance.

After the band and our producer, Peter Bjørnild, have approved the selected takes, I begin the editing process. Our edits are generally very simple. Think of attaching the coda from Take 3 to Take 2, or replacing a short section with material from another performance.

The majority of each song remains a single continuous take. Sometimes an entire track is exactly as it was performed in the studio. By keeping the editing minimal, we preserve the natural flow and energy of the music. It is remarkably easy to edit the life out of a performance. We try very hard not to.

Once the edits are completed, we schedule a separate mixing session. This separation is important because it allows us to return with fresh ears.

Mix days usually start early in the morning. Our hearing is less fatigued and our judgment tends to be more reliable. Before the musicians arrive, I prepare a mixing setup that gives us a solid starting point. Usually one or two members of the band join the session. Their input can be invaluable, particularly when it comes to artistic intentions, arrangements, or personal preferences.

We aim to complete a mix within one or two days. The musicians then take the mixes home and listen in their own environment. After receiving their feedback, I create the final mix.

At this stage, it is important that the recording carries the Sound Liaison signature. For us, that means an open and dynamic sound with a realistic stage and a natural sense of space. The listener should feel as though the musicians are performing in front of them, not trapped between two loudspeakers.

When the final mix is approved, I move on to mastering. For us, mastering is not about making the music louder. It is about presentation. I determine the final sequence of the tracks, clean up the beginnings and endings, establish the appropriate spacing between pieces, and prepare all metadata and artwork. The goal is to create a seamless listening experience from beginning to end.

Once everything has been approved, the final stage begins: conversion.

The original DSD256 master is sent to Tom Caulfield in the United States. Using state-of-the-art software and an extremely careful workflow, he converts the master into all available delivery formats. When the converted files return, I prepare them for distribution, upload them to our servers, and connect the download links to the products in our webshop.

At that point, the choice is yours.

Will you listen to the original DSD256 master, a true one-to-one copy of what left our studio? Or will you choose a format that better suits your playback system and listening preferences?

Whatever format you select, my goal remains the same. Through every stage of recording, editing, mixing, mastering, and conversion, I try to preserve the emotion, intention, and musical truth that existed in the studio. If that feeling reaches your living room and allows you to connect with the musicians, then the entire journey has been worthwhile.

Enjoy the music.

Frans de Rond
Sound Liaison

It's almost twelve years ago now, yet I remember it clearly. One of those mornings where everything feels quiet with purpose. Peter Bjørnild and I had arrived early to prepare Studio 1. The Steinway D had been tuned before sunrise. The equipment was in place. And Atzko Kohashi was ready to play.

This was our first solo piano recording for Sound Liaison. Just a pianist, a magnificent instrument, and the room itself. We wanted to do something special.

The Decca Tree — Above the Piano

The Decca Tree is a classic microphone configuration originally developed by engineers at Decca Records in the 1950s for orchestral recording. It consists of three omnidirectional microphones arranged in a T-shape, a center mic at the top, and two flanking mics spread wide to the left and right. Together, they capture a wide, natural stereo image with depth and air. Over the decades, it became the standard approach for capturing large ensembles and symphony orchestras.

Our idea was to apply that same philosophy to the piano. Instead of recording the Steinway from the conventional perspective, microphones placed near the open lid, we removed the lid entirely. This gave us direct access to the full acoustic space above the instrument. We then positioned the Decca Tree directly overhead, letting it capture the piano the way it captures an orchestra: openly, naturally, with the room breathing around it.

For a little more intimacy and definition, we added an ORTF pair close to the strings. ORTF is a stereo configuration using two cardioid microphones angled at 110 degrees apart and spaced 17 centimeters between capsules, designed to mimic the distance and angle of human ears. It gives a focused, present sound with a natural stereo image. Placed close to the instrument, it added a subtle directness to the broader picture painted by the Decca Tree above. The result was a layered perspective: the room and the instrument in conversation, with just enough intimacy underneath.

Letting the Moment Happen

After a short soundcheck, we stepped back. That was a deliberate choice. Atzko had a clear musical idea for this recording, she wanted to play the way a poet writes: not from a fixed plan, but from feeling. From instinct. She described it beautifully in her own words: the act of composing in the moment, like improvisation in jazz, choosing each phrase the way a poet chooses words, aware that each one carries its own soul.

So we let her play. Long stretches, without interruption. No stopping to adjust levels, no endless takes, no technical anxieties bleeding into the music. The idea was for her to find her own flow and stay in it.

Listening from the control room, Peter and I heard it happen. There were moments where the music seemed to breathe on its own. Where Atzko's touch on the Steinway felt entirely uncontrived, present, searching, honest.

The recording chain was as pure as we could make it, captured in DXD at 352kHz. Now 12 years later it is mixed through our analog stereo chain and mastered to PCM 768kHz.

Why Did It Take So Long?

That's a question I still can't fully answer. The recordings were there. The performances were beautiful. Life, other projects, timing, perhaps all of these played a role. But sometimes recordings have their own patience. They wait until the moment is right. And listening back now, with distance, that quality Atzko was reaching for, the sense of improvisation as poetry, of jazz as a living language passed from one generation to the next, it's all there.

She describes the great jazz masters as stars in the sky: distant, unreachable, yet impossible to stop looking at.

I'm glad we finally let it meet the world.

Atzko Kohashi - Soul Eyes

Frans

In recording and mixing, your first intuitive choice is often not so bad after all. In fact, it is frequently the most honest one.

At Sound Liaison, we experience this again and again. Recording and mixing remain deeply creative processes that unfold in the moment.
Of course, you can play it safe. You can repeat the same microphone placement every session. Use the same signal chain.
Apply the same balance. There is comfort in predictability.

But comfort rarely leads to growth. The real challenge, and the true inspiration of this craft, lies in continuous development. In questioning yourself.
In asking: Is this really the best spot for the microphone? Or can it be different?

The Search for the Right Position

Before the first note is played, the creative process has already begun. Microphone choice and placement are never routine decisions.
They shape everything that follows.
Sometimes the answer requires thinking outside the box. Sometimes an idea appears that, after decades of recording, has never crossed your mind before. At other times, the solution lies directly in front of you while you are searching far too hard for something complex.

That tension, between experience and curiosity, keeps the work alive. During recording sessions, I constantly adjust and refine. Not obsessively, but attentively. Listening to how the room responds. How the musicians interact with the space. Whether the sound breathes naturally or feels constrained.
Recording is not technical execution. It is listening in real time and daring to respond.

The First Balance: Creating Confidence

While recording, I always create an initial balance. Not as a final mix, but as a working perspective.
Together with producer Peter Bjørnild, this balance allows us to judge whether a take is usable. Just as importantly, it shapes the experience for the musicians. When they enter the control room to listen back, the sound they hear must feel encouraging. It should reflect the potential of their performance. This psychological dimension is crucial. Musicians need to return to the recording floor inspired and confident. Doubt can easily take over in the studio. A small insecurity about timing or tone can overshadow an otherwise beautiful performance.


Jeroen van Vliet and Mete Erker during a recording session for Sound Liaison. (photo by Kaspar Jansen)

At the end of a recording day, we create a listening copy for the musicians and producer. But we do not send it immediately. We wait at least a week.
Why? Because distance dissolves doubt. Time separates memory from emotion. It allows everyone to listen again with openness and without the intensity of the moment influencing judgment. Often, performances that felt uncertain during the session reveal unexpected depth when revisited calmly.

Editing: Choosing the Essence

After reflection comes editing. This is the process of selecting the strongest takes. Frequently, these are complete performances. Sometimes, however, we combine the theme from one take with the solo from another. Editing requires precision and clarity. It is about content. About musical integrity. It is analytical, deliberate work. And that is exactly why we never mix on the same day as editing.

Mixing: A Different Discipline

Mixing is a completely different discipline. Once editing is complete, nobody needs to worry about the notes anymore. The focus shifts entirely to sound. And sound is something almost intangible. It is the beauty and the mystery of mixing.
I often say: if I were to mix the same recording three days in a row, I would end up with three different mixes. Why? Because no two days are the same. Your perception changes. Your emotional state shifts. Even your physical energy influences decisions. Balance feels different. Reverb choices evolve.
EQ decisions take another direction.

And here lies the great danger. The search for the “best” sound can easily become a trap. Endless refinement can lead to overproduction. You polish and adjust, and before you know it, the soul has quietly disappeared. It sometimes happens that, at the end of a long mixing day, we compare the final mix with the original premix created during recording — and the premix sounds better.

Why? Because it was made in the moment. On intuition, with heart.
When making those first intuitive balance decisions, we are also very aware of ear fatigue. We take frequent short breaks, often leaving the room entirely. Stepping outside resets your hearing and clears your perception. Returning with fresh ears allows you to reconnect with your intuition instead of sliding into over-analysis. Those small pauses are essential. They protect the purity of the first impression and help maintain perspective throughout the mixing process.

The Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing

When you start “seriously” mixing, the mind tends to take control. Analysis replaces instinct. Precision replaces feeling. The mind is valuable. It solves problems. It corrects imbalances. It identifies technical flaws. But it can also become a wolf in sheep’s clothing. It appears helpful while slowly draining the emotional core from the music.
So what to do? When I mix, I consciously search for simplicity. I begin with a beautiful balance, quickly, intuitively. Then I shift perspective. I stop listening as an engineer and start listening as a listener. What does the music need? Not what could be improved endlessly, but what truly needs attention.
Most adjustments happen fast, based on first instinct. Trusting intuition may not seem like the most obvious strategy in a professional work environment where excellence is the goal. Yet it is a golden source of inspiration.

A Dialogue in Search of the Sweet Spot

At Sound Liaison, mixing is always a dialogue. Between Peter and myself. Often with the musicians present. It is almost a game, searching for that golden sweet spot where everything aligns. Where balance, depth and emotion converge. When we reach that point, there is usually a moment of silence in the room. Then a smile. That is when you know the recording is ready to meet the world.

Conclusion: Mix With Your Heart

Recording and mixing are not mechanical processes. They are living acts of interpretation. Your first intuitive decision is often closer to the truth than endless analysis. The mind should serve the heart, not dominate it. Use your intellect to solve the problems your heart identifies, not to overrule it.
Because in the end, music is not evaluated by technical perfection alone. It is felt. And when you mix with your heart, guided by intuition and supported by craft, you give the music its best chance to breathe.

At Sound Liaison, that balance between intuition and precision defines our approach,  and perhaps that is why the recordings continue to surprise us.

Frans