Engineering for Amy Winehouse: The Uncredited Story of 'Between the Cheats'

This week, I finally got resolution on something that had been a thorn in my side for quite some time.

Before I was a mixing engineer, I was yes, that’s right - just an engineer. The kind that worked in studios for a living, making records and engineering for artists, labels, and producers. The kind you had to be before you could magically get the title of "mixing engineer" if you eventually specialized and reached those heights.

At the end of the 2000s, one of these clients was none other than Amy Winehouse, who was, as they say, going through some things and trying to get it together with a view to making a new record.

Our studio, situated outside the noise of London, was known as a place where an artist could enter the old-school studio world. It was a private place where you could be yourself in total seclusion and safety. It wasn’t fancy at all, but you could live there, and it was a place where nobody would bother you. I’m sometimes asked why I don’t have more pictures of sessions and clients. In those days, when Instagram was just for pretty photos, it was considered unacceptable in our world to violate people’s privacy, especially the artists'. What happened in the studio stayed in the studio.

In fact, at the time, things were so insane you can’t imagine. There was a line of paparazzi cars illegally on the private road leading to the studio, stationed outside 24/7. Some were even brave enough to sneak onto the private property, chancing their luck to try and take some pictures. We usually caught them, and they ran for their lives - not a part of the job you really think about when you discover the magic of the studio and decide you want a career recording.

Mark Ronson came and got frustrated, as the Bond movie theme we were supposed to be making clearly wasn’t happening. That's another story. Amy wanted to make a jazz album and didn’t give a fuck about Bond. That’s how big she was at that moment.

One morning, after a lot of not much happening, a car showed up with a driver. Out popped a chilled, relaxed guy who turned out to be Salaam Remi, the producer of half of Back to Black. He’d brought a keyboard, guitar, a Hofner violin "Beatle bass", and a great attitude.

The studio itself was owned by a British drummer called Barrie Barlow, who played with everyone from Jethro Tull to Robert Plant to Yngwie, so I’d already set up the drums and got busy getting everything else ready. I was a little nervous as there was no sign of our diva, but Salaam said, “I don’t care what time the artist wants to get to work… I’m walking out of here with a song today. I want to get it done, go have something to eat, and watch a movie.”

Yep, I’d found a new hero.

Amy came downstairs, sat on Salaam’s lap, sweet as you like, and was obviously super happy he was there - a noticeable change in her mood. Then she showed him the bones of a new song, something clearly about her relationship with Blake, who was serving time in jail at the time. I can’t express how thoroughly nice she was, and how surreal it was to have someone like that repeatedly asking if they could make you a cup of tea.

We set up a click, and he went into the booth and played a simple pattern for a few minutes, turned to me, and said, “Find me some good bars.” And so I did.

We then repeated the process with some bass, keys, and other things (“Find me some bars!”). At some point, another drummer showed up who listened through, then replayed the song, perhaps playing through it twice. Done.

Sometimes it cracks me up how nerdy we engineers get about what was recorded with what. I honestly believe you could have put ANY mic in front of Amy and she would have sounded amazing. Engineering for someone like Amy Winehouse at that point could have been stressful, but can only think of a handful of times I've ever heard someone that just naturally good in person. Salaam told me he used a U67 and the inputs on his Digi 002 for the last record, so I figured my chain was going to be fine. It was pretty cool standing two feet away from her, moving the mic, and hearing that voice up close.

We re-did a couple of things as the structure came together, then a small posse of singers arrived who did the doo-wop harmony parts. It was super relaxed and fun, the kind of session that doesn't feel like work.

Towards the end of the day, I asked if Salaam was staying the night. He enthusiastically shook his head no - maybe not quite ready to spend the night in the creepy English woods in the middle of nowhere. I copied the drive, helped him pack, and then off he went back to the safety of London, never to be seen again.

Now, as we know, not long after that, tragedy struck and we lost Amy. Several years later, a bunch of songs came out on the posthumous album Lioness: Hidden Treasures, one of which was "Between the Cheats."

Listening to the finished record, I can hear they worked more on it back in the states, added horns, changed the chorus BVs, and so on, but it was definitely the same recording. The Lioness record credits the studio, but I was never credited directly, which was frustrating because who else could have engineered it?

Eventually, after years I reached out and confirmed with Salaam that it was indeed the same version. As cool as he ever was, he said to grab the credits wherever I could. He just couldn’t remember my name when Universal put the credits list together. And that, my readers, is how you sometimes end up working on records you can’t prove you did for a while!

It was early days for me then, and since then have racked up something like 900 credits during other assorted studio misadventures. If you'd like to work with my kind of experience on your music, just reach out - I am always looking for great artists to work with. Just remember to credit me, ok? :)