Stephen Rinker, originally from Ilford, London, is a BBC sound recording engineer. We sat down with Stephen to discuss his career path from an early fascination with recording music to working with the BBC Philharmonic, notably his recent recording of Mahler’s Resurrection Symphony at Bridgewater Hall in Manchester.
What does it mean to be a sound recording engineer?
It’s funny, because when people hear ‘recording engineer’, they think you could be anything from a public announcer to recording audiobooks.
The Germans have a word for the job I do: Tonmeister, or ‘master of sound’. My job is to incorporate both an understanding of what I’m recording, and how to record it.
What attracted you to a career in sound engineering?
It’s what I always wanted to do. I remember I had a sick day off school when I was eight years old. I stayed at home and watched a TV programme showing the art of a recording session. I was absolutely transfixed.
That then set the tone; I spent a lot of time playing records and was fascinated with this process of capturing music and other sounds into a recorded medium.
How did you come to work with the BBC?
After A-levels, my career developed its own life. I took time out with the intention of applying to King’s College London to study music. Instead, I ended up working for Stanley Hyland, an ex-BBC TV current affairs executive.
Hyland set up a studio in Covent Garden, which is where I started. With my interest in music, the arts and recording, he later asked me if I’d thought of becoming a BBC studio manager.
It was unusual to get onto the BBC training scheme without having gone to university, but I did. That became my gateway into sound engineering, where I trained across all aspects of recording.
Before long, I joined the specialist music recording team for classical music in London, making music programmes before moving to BBC North in Manchester.
What work do you do as a sound engineer for the BBC?
When I first came to Manchester over twenty years ago, I began recording the BBC Philharmonic at the NBH studio, covering CDs, TV and the Proms.
I oversaw the orchestra’s move to the new BBC studio in Media City – now the biggest TV studio in Britain – to make sure the acoustics were set up properly.
We also record foreign tours. It might seem strange to fly to Japan to record a British orchestra, but economically it makes sense.
If you consider the cost of an orchestral recording, a day’s work is enormous, so recording concerts while the orchestra is already touring is practical.
What are your impressions of Mahler and the Resurrection Symphony?
I’m very fond of the piece. I first heard it at a festival hall in London, conducted by the legendary Otto Klemperer, who conducting from a wheelchair, he was that old.
It’s this epic odyssey that has never really left me. Mahler was a master orchestrator: thorough in his notes, constantly revising, and leaving a score littered with directions.
With the various groups and offstage brass, he creates a striking spatial awareness. Woodwind players point their instruments upwards and horn players raise their bells to project more sound. It’s an astonishing piece of musical theatre.
There’s this cataclysmic music: it goes quiet, stops, and then the choir enters very softly. As with Beethoven’s Ode to Joy, there comes a point where instrumental music has done all it can, and the soprano introduces words and questions.
In the last movement, the ‘Dies Irae’, or plainchant for the dead, begins quietly in the brass and builds until it explodes into sound. No matter how many times I hear it, I get a little shiver.
How did you approach recording the symphony at Bridgewater Hall?
There was a lot to do. For a 7.30pm concert, we started setting up at 10am. Dropping microphones from the roof takes time, but it’s safer and less visible to the audience, though many still sat on stage.
For the Resurrection Symphony, the choir and offstage brass created an enormous logistical operation.
The choir rehearsed without the orchestra to get used to the horns. Then the offstage brass, horns and conductor ran through the offstage sections without the main orchestra.
The stage was divided into groups: a globe of horns on one side, with percussion inside — bass drum, triangle and other instruments.
There were moving parts too. The trumpets, representing the angels of the apocalypse, start downstairs in the hall, then have two minutes to reach their balcony positions.
Who else was involved in the recording production?
Recording production is a negotiation between the conductor, musicians and me. The producer makes the artistic decisions, listens to the rehearsal, concert and recording, then signs off the final broadcast.
At the back of the ‘fish tank’ — where lighting and sound teams sit behind the stalls — was our announcer, Mark Forrest, an experienced broadcaster who vets the script for factual inaccuracies.
A broadcast team in a van by the artist’s entrance handled the physical recording and connection into the hall.
An engineer looks after the van and equipment, while stage studio managers help drop microphones from the ceiling.
Everyone plays a vital role in staging a concert with such a massive ensemble. But in sound and recording, there are fewer engineers than you’d think; most of the team were there in a management capacity.
One thing I love about the BBC and broadcasting is that it’s a genuine team effort. Everyone comes together, knows what they’re doing and plays their part. It’s very satisfying to be part of that.
How do you convey the epic nature of such a concert in a recording?
Some purists would say, ‘We’re sitting in the hall, and we only have a pair of ears. Why don’t you just put a couple of pairs of microphones up?’
The reason is that it wouldn’t do the music justice. The challenge is to present a public concert while creating a musically involving experience for the listener.
This concert will be broadcast on Radio 3, then remain on BBC Sounds for a long time. You’re trying to give a sense of occasion, which is where my skill comes in.
Far more people will hear the broadcast at home than heard it in the packed hall. That says something about Mahler’s attraction: he created music that resonates deeply with people.
A good recording engineer represents the best interests of the composer. If you’re dogmatic about that, you shouldn’t be doing it.
The recording of Mahler’s 2nd symphony is now available until 4th August.
A fascinating insight. Thank you.