Local producer determined to focus on music more than ever

photo credit: Alex Ashley Recording studio in the plum Williams displays an old guitar, signed by the late Stevie Ray Vaughan, that he’s kept for years. He kicks himself to this day for trading his old 1970s Fender Telecaster for it years ago.

By ALEX ASHLEY Reporter

In a back room of an old farmhouse in Stanwood, Richard Williams surrounds himself by one of the things that matters to him most, music.

Plum Tree Recording is his baby.

A line of dusty, old guitars sits atop an old piano. A Hammond M2 drawbar organ occupies the corner opposite of Williams. Half a dozen guitar amps fill the room.

In the adjoining room, a drum set is surrounded by microphones, waiting to be recorded.

And then there’s the mixing board, a giant sea of vintage knobs and buttons, connected to probably the one thing in the room that wasn’t born before 1975, an iMac.

“I’ve had a passion for music from the beginning,” he said. “It’s always been a part of me.”

Williams recalled Christmas in 1968. He and his brother got an acoustic guitar, but they had to share it between the two of them.

Later, he got a Norma electric guitar as a gift – a burly, beast of a guitar that took some real work to play.

“In those days, a cheap guitar was really a cheap guitar. They were not easy to play.”

He remembers playing the opening riff to the Beatles’ “Yellow Submarine” for show-and-tell, and wooing the girls with his newfound guitar chops.

He also remembers music being a part of his family.

“My Uncle Gary used to come over, and he and my mom would stay up and sing until midnight,” he said. “My Uncle Gary was a poor, old school lounge musician. He used to come over and want to use my junky old guitar because he didn’t have any gear of his own.”

Williams laughed to himself.

photo credit: Alex Ashley Recording studio in the plum Williams displays an old guitar, signed by the late Stevie Ray Vaughan, that he’s kept for years. He kicks himself to this day for trading his old 1970s Fender Telecaster for it years ago.

Posted: Tuesday, March 17, 2015 10:27 am | Updated: 10:30 am, Tue Mar 17, 2015.

As he grew older, music kept finding a way into his life. Working for his first boss, Jack Turner, pumping gas at 15 (a year younger than was legal at the time) he saved up enough money to buy a trumpet and began taking lessons.

Fast-forward to the year 1981, and Williams found himself in school, attending North Seattle Community College. He had been accepted into the recording program there, although at the time it didn’t amount to much; they hadn’t even finished building the studio yet.

“I was riding my bike in the Fremont District, and I passed what used to be the American Music Recording Studio,” Williams said. “I had just landed the dreariest job in the world working in a parking garage, and I had started college two weeks earlier.”

A young Williams recalls taking a tour of the studio.

“The producer there at the time said ‘stick around a while, and I’ll show you how to do this.’ It was an old school apprenticeship. I didn’t get paid a dime, but I cleaned the place up, brought them coffee, and in return he showed me the ropes of recording, producing and engineering.”

Williams said he never went back to his job at the parkade, and he never returned to college. Or, in his own words “I never looked back.”

In 1982, he scored a job at Robert Lang Studios, a recording facility now known as Seattle’s oldest world-class recording studio. But at the time, Williams said, it was little more than a converted bomb shelter.

“I got paid $300 a month to work there,” he said, “and rent was $150.”

He chuckled, recalling the memory.

“I remember some pretty gnarly plain whole wheat pancakes, and a lot of moving in the middle of the night because rent was due the next morning.”

Later that year, Williams moved to Everett, and was thumbing through a local trade magazine – “photocopies stapled together, a real gorilla of a publication,” he said – and found an up-and-coming recording studio in his new town.

“The guy had been building a studio, was almost done and had absolutely no idea how to run it,” Williams said.

There, he landed his first job as chief engineer.

“A sound engineer is a weird slice of a guy,” Williams said. “I’ve been one for 34 years.”

Still, he said he continues to learn, and to study engineering.

“A lot of engineers,” he said, “have this view of themselves that they are all high and mighty, maybe because they have a lot of expensive gear. But in my opinion, there’s always more to learn and ways to improve.”

On a local level, anyone who has attended Stanwood’s annual summer concert series has seen, or at least heard Williams work. He mixes sound at each event.

“I look forward to it every year,” he said. “This town is very supportive of music and the arts, even for a small town.”

Williams said he is trying to nurture that community support little by little by doing what he can to support local musicians.

Currently, Williams is hosting two “jams” a week – opportunities for local musicians to come and play in front of an audience and work with other musicians they may or may not know yet: every Saturday night at the Viking, and every Wednesday night at Amigo’s.

“I bring all the gear,” he said. “I bring the drums, a couple guitar amps, everything. We just want players to show up.”

Williams hopes this helps the development of a local music scene.

Aside from his love of music, however, Williams is quick to point out the most important aspect of his life.

He scrolled through several family photos on his computer.

He and his wife Judy have two boys: Turner, 18 – named after Jack Turner – and Morgan, 21.

“I’m turning over a new leaf this year,” he said. “I want to be a better father, a better husband and a better musician.”