Recording studios hold a special, almost sacred significance for musicians. The Church, a stunning former place of worship in north London, embodies this sentiment quite literally. For 170 years, its stone walls and stained glass windows have carried the echoes of prayers and extraordinary music alike. In its current form as a world-class recording venue, it boasts three cutting-edge studios equipped with everything a musician could ever dream of. From the Eurythmics’ iconic Sweet Dreams to Adele’s record-breaking album 25, the sound of The Church has left an indelible mark on the world. Luke Pickering, the studio’s head engineer, explains how the studio was saved from being turned into flats, what entices A list artists to record there, and why the beating heart of the historic building is Studio 1 – home to one of the rarest recording and mixing desks in the world.
“It all happened for me when I was around 13,” recalls Pickering of the first band that made a lasting impact on him. The record that was responsible for shaping his formative music tastes? Nirvana’s self-titled greatest hits album.
“It totally blew my mind,” he recalls, speaking to Headliner from his home studio, although he can usually be found at Church Studios. “I was a grunge kid, basically. You could say Nirvana were my Beatles, in many ways.”
With a love of grunge came an interest in playing guitar and writing music, and Pickering began playing in bands, eventually becoming the band member handling the recording side of things.
“Being able to record my own music and document it was such a revelation,” he recalls, admitting that his first attempts were, however, rudimentary. “The first recordings I did were so sketchy,” he grins, thinking back. “Drums and bass were done using this PS1 game called Music 2000, which I've since found out that a lot of early grime was made on – I definitely wasn't doing grime,” – he points out quickly.
“Everything else was done using a webcam mic, and I recorded it all into this program called Audacity, which I love to bits, but it's primitive, to say the least. I thought it was great at the time, but it did sound bad,” he laughs.
“The main thing was, there's something really satisfying and magical about taking a song, which at one moment, exists in someone's head and nowhere else, and then you can make it into something that can be experienced by everyone. Something about that sparked something. It’s that idea of documentation, I suppose.”