At REX Studio, music production is personal“I never really thought I’d be a producer. I mean, I was always in bands and around studios…but I wanted to be a hairdresser. I cut hair for a year or two in my 20s as a junior and was about to qualify, then my flat got robbed.”
Macks Faulkron is sitting in the throne of REX Studio, relaxed but animated, surrounded by synths, guitar pedals, vintage studio gear, and the pink velvet walls of the main studio room. It’s in this chair that, for over 15 years, the Grammy-nominated producer has recorded, mixed and written for artists such as Caroline Polachek, Sky Ferreira, A.G Cook, Years and Years, BADBADNOTGOOD, and Picture Parlour.
Speaking with a propah Bri’ish accent, flashing regular cheeky grins, and occasionally twisting his (truly fantastic) moustache, Macks is taking us through the whirlwind of REX Studio’s founding in 2009.
REX Studio. Image: Phil Sharp
“In my flat was my solo record that I was making around being in these bands. So that got robbed — it was before I had hard drives with backups, so it was just on a laptop,” he says. “I’d been working on it for a couple of years. I had all the songs, I had a manager, I’d just played Field Day [festival in London], and I was still in another band. So I had to quit my job.”
Wait, why did he have to quit his job?
“There was loads going on but I just quit. I left London, I left my flat, and I moved into a house in Bournemouth that was vacant for a few months. And I just went back to making this record from scratch.”
Macks quickly found himself leaning into the production side of music-making more than ever. In this small room, he’d write and produce new material, exploring new techniques on a budget and still armed with his first-ever tape machine, a Tascam 388 eight-track mixer. When he felt it was time to return to London, he looked on Gumtree and found a cheap room in the basement of a building in Highbury. Now known as the Silver Room at REX, it was the cosy studio that Macks brought musicians and friends to, and where he’d learn that he could make a career out of producing for other people.
REX Studio’s Tascam 388. Image: Phil Sharp
REX’s location is prime — a two-minute walk from Highbury and Islington tube station, surrounded by a few pubs and coffee shops (“Classic!”, laughs Macks as I rock up with a coffee from Pret). In the quietest moments during our interview, you can even feel the slight, distant rumble of the Victoria tube line.
“Sound of the underground over here,” Macks chuckles.
“I just thought, ‘fuck it, I’m young, I’ll do it. Here’s a space in Highbury — I’m basically from Highbury, what are the chances of that?’” he continues of moving into REX. “Fast forward 15 years, there’s no other studios around here.”
He still remembers his earliest sessions in the studio — a track he wrote called Laser Lips that he professes was “fucking good” — and the help he had from the studio landlord, who was also a mix engineer. In the Silver Room, Macks made most of his tracks with a TubeTech preamp, a Fender Deville amp, a guitar, and a vocal mic. REX has grown into a fully-fledged commercial studio, now with the Pink Room boasting a drum booth, high-end outboard, Sequential and Moog synthesizers, a guitar collection, three pairs of studio monitors — but still space for his trusty Tascam.
Macks has learned a lot about music production in his 15 years at REX. Sure — lessons in production techniques, gear, arranging and all the technical stuff. But, perhaps most crucially, he’s learned about the importance of people and personality when working with artists on their music.
REX Studio’s synth rack. Image: Phil Sharp
“Every artist is different, but the end goal is always the same — to understand the vision and help realise the sound. End of the day, it’s the artist’s music, and my role is just to facilitate that,” he says. “Not having the ego to be like, ‘No, this idea has to be exactly like this.’ Because if I put my ego in and want a song, especially if I’m writing with an artist, it will never get cut. It’s not my record — I’m working with people.”
People often talk about the bond they have with their hairdressers and barbers. Does Macks see a connection between the intimacy of a haircut and a recording session?
“When I’d get to my hairdresser shift at 10 am, [my client] would sit down and…It’s just chattin’. Work troubles, boyfriend troubles, a leak in the flat or whatever. It could get deeper but, yeah, there was always an element of therapy. And it’s the same in music,” Macks says.
“First time you do a writing session, an artist comes in and you’re getting to know them for the first time. And they’re coming to write a song with you and give it all their heart. Psychologically, it’s quite a lot to take on for both sides. I remember from experience when recording as an artist how important my music and ideas were to me personally, but how vulnerable it felt to put things out there to the producers and collaborators in the room. I try to create an environment where people feel comfortable sharing what they want because that’s what I always wanted more than anything.”
REX Studio. Image: Phil Sharp
Macks puts this personable attitude into practice regularly, seeing it succeed most recently with UK indie act Picture Parlour. After watching them play at the London festival All Points East, Macks ended up in contact with their label and soon had the band in the room at REX Studio, where he says they “really connected, both personally and musically.”
The first track they recorded in those sessions was Face In the Picture, which became the lead track of Picture Parlour’s EP, released in June. Macks shares some of the in-the-moment techniques he executed when developing the demos, such as recording without the click track to encourage looser timing — “I personally wanted to feel the energy and the spirit of what I had witnessed on stage. I think we really accomplished that,” he says.
Macks is a producer that’s all about the ‘vibes’. He’s able to harness his rich technical knowledge in an instant and has a lust for studio gear, but his ability to elicit personality from a track or moment is what gives him an edge. He says, simply, that “style and character” are the two components that make an outstanding piece of art, whether it’s music or on canvas — his fine art degree taught him that, he reckons. You definitely feel a sense of style and character when walking into REX, whether through the soft lights, bold artwork, vintage gear, or just from Macks himself.
REX Studio. Image: Phil Sharp
Macks is adamant that he’s not an analogue, vintage purist but admits he prefers working hands-on with gear rather than sitting at a computer. Besides, his clients have come to enjoy the character his Tascam gives to their music.
He mimics a conversation with artists: “‘Can we run it through the tape machine?’ Sure can. ‘Can we record straight to tape?’ Definitely. That’s the vibe.”
Such an impact this old-school Tascam 388 has had on his recording sessions, that he’s set up a bespoke online service for it. Now, artists can get their tracks sent through the REX Studio tape machine and other coveted gear to instantly add that feel of vintage tape to a digital mix, with Macks’ ears across the track, for “considerably less than a hefty production fee,” he says.
Macks Faulkron and his Tascam 388. Image: Thomasin Waite
“We have indie artists such as Andy Shauf, Tame Impala and Mac DeMarco to thank for bringing this thing back into light, but I like to think I’m doing my bit too,” Macks continues.
Although Macks has spent the past 15 years curating his studio with considered gear picks, I wonder whether he’s pressured into certain purchases in an effort to align with so-called industry-standard studios. Does he need a Neumann U 87, for example?
“As a commercial studio, you do need to get the bits that people just want to have or expect and that’s fair. It’s a really good clean mic,” he says. “The irony is, when I did have a U 87, artists were like, ‘Oh, nah, I don’t want the U 87.’
“But the studio can be cheap — you don’t need to have all these expensive pieces of gear or anything; it can be something really crappy. I think Brian Eno’s favourite pedal is this Behringer guitar amp simulator —” Macks points to a blue Behringer pedal on the floor. “I didn’t know that when I got it, someone just told me and I was like, ‘Really?!’”
Macks adds that he’s not really got a shopping list of studio gear but, looking to the next 15 years of REX, he jokes that he’d love to be 99 per cent analogue by 2039.
REX Studio. Image: Phil Sharp
“I look back on the past 15 years and it’s been a blast,” he says, candidly. “Honestly, to be an indie studio in the current climate feels like a massive achievement on its own, and I’m always so thankful for the support of the labels and artists that choose to work with me in either capacity as an independent business. If I can continue to do that for the next 15, that would be a privilege.”
The REX Studio team and Macks have truly excelled at creating a relaxed, inspiring space for artists. The humble producer is also hungry for more challenges and opportunities, it seems, considering his desire to innovate with online services and communicate with engaged TikTok and Instagram audiences.
We doubt he’s ready to give thanks to the burglars who ransacked his old London flat, but it speaks volumes that Macks was able to transform such misfortune into REX Studio.
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