Why do so many Twin Cities musicians’ songs sound sublime? Two words: Alec Ness
December 06, 2024
Dozens of buttons and dials with fine-tuned measurements jut out of a desk in mastering engineer Alec Ness’ home studio in south Minneapolis. Completing the space are two large speakers on either side of the desk, a decibel meter resting next to the board, and acoustic panels hung on the walls to absorb unwanted noise. In this space, 34-year-old Ness masters music for a significant number of Twin Cities musicians and others around the world.
So what exactly is the mastering process? After artists — and sometimes, a producer — complete recording a musical project, a mixing engineer blends the vocals and instruments on multitrack recordings to create a more cohesive product. And then, crucially, a mastering engineer ensures that every auditory detail is reviewed and ready for digital streaming or physical media, like cassettes, vinyl, and CDs.
Behind the console
The day Ness welcomes me into his studio, he is working on five songs, but can’t tell me the artist’s name because the album hasn’t been announced publicly. He describes putting the finishing touch on songs — adjusting volume, tone, brightness, prominence of vocals, compression, weight of instruments, and frequency ranges. These edits craft a consistent sound across various listening formats: phone, car, Bluetooth speakers, etc.
For a process that may sound elusive and is often called the “dark arts” of music production, Ness speaks about his job in a humble and playful way. When I joke about my cheap, mini speaker compared to the ones by his desk, Ness reassures me, “Great engineered music will sound good even through that.” He says, “That's where the technical world meets the emotional world. Like, ‘How do I get it to feel the same on the iPhone speaker?’”
Ness’ approach is based on the state of a song’s mix when it arrives. At times, an artist and mixer will be completely satisfied with a song and only ask for minor changes. Other times, a production team will ask for a heavier hand to add character. Artists give examples of albums they like and request specific aural aesthetics like “warm,” “vocal forward,” “bright,” or “poppy.” And when multiple engineers mix songs on an album, each may sound great independently, but it’s Ness’ job to make the tracklist a cohesive package.
The ability to recognize a project’s completion stems not only from intuition and years of self-teaching but also from lessons from mentors. Ness has sought out engineers further in their careers to ask “When is [a song] done?” and “How much do I contribute to it?” from a more philosophical standpoint.
One mentor is Mandy Parnell, an engineer in London who has mastered music by Aphex Twin, Björk, Jamie xx, and many more. Ness says Parnell has a creative approach and doesn’t base completion on loudness alone. Rather, it’s listening to how the music feels and the reaction from musicians sitting beside her.
On the local level, Ness has learned from Greg Reierson who has mastered work from artists like Prince, the Cure, and Sufjan Stevens. Back in 2020, Reierson started letting Ness hang out at his studio, Rare Form Mastering, and eventually gave him keys. With an apartment down the street from the downtown Minneapolis studio, Ness could do all his work beginning at 6 a.m., before Reierson arrived, and after 5 p.m., when he left. “It's kind of like the classic engineer stories,” Ness says. “You have a mentor that you just do menial tasks for and grind underneath to learn everything because the [mastering gear] is so expensive.”
Starting in the spotlight
Ness’ career didn’t begin with a specialty in mastering. He began producing electronic music in high school and performed under the alias Su Na starting in 2013. His debut EP, Surface, featured hip-hop artist Dizzy Fae. Ness would go on to co-produce two albums and one EP for her. Between 2016 and 2019, he toured with Fae, producing and playing an electronic drum pad as an opening for acts like Lizzo, Toro y Moi, and Biig Piig.
With a foot already in the music industry door, Ness began asking collaborators about their mixing and mastering needs. When COVID-19 quarantine began, live music paused, and producing opportunities lessened, so the mastering opportunities took over. His pre-existing network and connections he made as a certified trainer for the popular production software Ableton gave him a sturdy starting block of clients.
Stepping further behind the scenes has given Ness a chance to ask, “What is my ultimate aim with my relationship with music?” When producing for Fae, he recognized the reward of working in a more supportive, less individualistic way. He preferred setting aside his ego and looking through the world through a variety of lenses — using his technical skills to translate others’ perspectives into an actualized release.
Although his name still shows up in the credits, Ness places service above ownership in his work: “It's rewarding to be trusted with [mastering], and it's rewarding to be brought into that process and kind of given the keys.”
A trusted collaborator
One of his proudest works is Dua Saleh’s debut full-length album, I SHOULD CALL THEM, released in October. Ness and Saleh, the Sudan-born, Los Angeles-based artist who grew up in the Twin Cities, have worked together for years. Ness has mastered all of Saleh’s releases since their 2019 EP, Nür - The Remixes, and produced a few intermediate singles.
I SHOULD CALL THEM is an eclectic fusion of R&B, pop, and rap. Saleh says they and Ness have a harmonious understanding of each other's music tastes largely based on his electronic music background. “A lot of the stuff that we do together is intuitive,” Saleh says. “He has worked with so many artists on the mastering side, on the producer side, as well as mixing that I think he is a bit of a chameleon when it comes to art-making.”
“Alec knows how to make the bass sound godly, in a way that nobody else really does” Saleh says, reflecting on the new album. “Everything is cleaner with the master … You can hear all of the lower frequencies ruminating, and you can hear everything that was vibrant really shining through.” They recall the small improvements on the master, like less squeakiness on the bass clarinets, avoiding muddy bass, and navigating vocals recorded in different studios with different technology.
Saleh emphasizes how attuned Ness is to detail — on the physical console and in his interpersonal understanding: “He's such an empath, and he really is listening to the textures. He's listening to your words,” they say. “He's paying attention to the tone of everything, even the tone of the instrument performance from different musicians.”
The singer has witnessed Ness work in real time and was shocked at his speed, “like somebody who is in a Rubik's Cube competitive conference.” Their producers — including Ryan Olson, Andrew Broder, and Psymun — have been adamant about enlisting Ness for mastering needs. “I think we all see that he can see past shallow musical dimensions and reach different planes,” Saleh says.
The talk of the town
Ness grew up in North Dakota, moved to Minneapolis to study at McNally Smith College of Music, and then moved to San Francisco to live with a friend. His next destination was meant to be New York, where his record label at the time was based. After stopping in Minneapolis, he realized how much he missed the Midwest city — where he believes people can truly be creative and less subliminally influenced by music label trends.
Ness’ name floats around through word of mouth when new artists want to release music. Because “the goal isn't to make the most amount of money possible, it's to work on the most amount of cool records possible,” Ness offers independent artists half his standard rate. “It's like, ‘Let's split the rate so that people that are maybe smaller, just starting out, can still afford to work with me, and then I get to work on their record,’” he says excitedly. He cites Minneapolis band she’s green, calling their debut EP, Wisteria, one of his favorite records he worked on in the last few years.
Guitarist Liam Armstrong of she’s green — recognized for re-imagining the shoegaze genre for a new generation by Complex — learned about Ness from the engineer’s work with Saleh and another leader in the local scene, Papa Mbye. He wouldn’t have known who else to turn to for mastering, and Ness’ rates made the service accessible.
“He's just one of those forces in the Minneapolis scene that’s so supportive, and it enables the whole thing to keep turning,” Armstrong insists. The guitarist remembers listening to the mastered single “Bleed” with bassist Teddy Nordvold for the first time. They had no idea to what extent the master would enhance the song.
Before I leave his home, Ness invites me to sit at his desk. He opens Spotify and eagerly clicks on a record he mastered that dropped earlier in the morning. It’s Empty Space by Peter Xan, a Nigerian rock artist from East London. Then he presses play on “want” from I SHOULD CALL THEM, and the room fills with Saleh's yearning words and intoxicating bass. The visceral emotion reverberating from the speakers is remarkable and unprecedented for this listener. I have never heard music fill a room so expansively and clearly before. It’s one example of the handiwork of an engineer who looks beyond audio waves on a screen to identify how an artist or band truly wants to be heard.
“A lot of music wouldn't have been as good without him,” Saleh concludes. “So it's really nice to hear the clarity that he provides to the art that people carry as sacred in their spirit.”
For Ness, there’s no better text to receive than, “It’s perfect. You crushed it,” after sending someone their album. He takes pride in giving people the feeling of, “This is finished. I feel confident about it. Now I can go on to the trenches of releasing this in the world.”
For even more Alec Ness projects, check out this playlist and alecness.com.
