One of the things I’ve learned over the years, both as a producer and as a lifelong fan of great records, is that the moments we often think of as mistakes are often the very moments that make us feel something. They’re the little cracks in a vocal, the breath before the line, the split second where the singer almost loses control and somehow finds it again.
These are the fingerprints of authenticity. I’ve spent years chasing those moments, not fixing them. They’re what separate a great vocal from a technically perfect one. A perfect vocal might impress you. An imperfect one makes you believe it.
I recently had a conversation with the wonderful Brandi Carlile, who told me a story that beautifully sums up this philosophy. We were talking about her song The Story, and she recalled that famous vocal crack that everyone now knows and loves. She said: “I’ve never been able to make it happen since. It might have just been some weird anatomical thing, but there was definitely an emotional thing happening too. The first time I did it, I almost burst out laughing because I thought it was such an ugly mistake.” She laughed as she told me how T Bone Burnett, who was producing the record, came running into the booth, flung the door open, and said, “‘Do that again. If you can do that again, do it again.’”
That story perfectly captures what makes music real. Brandi thought it was a flaw. T Bone knew it was truth. As producers, our job isn’t to iron out the emotion. It’s to capture it. That “crack” wasn’t something to be tuned out or redone, it was the sound of vulnerability, of humanity breaking through the microphone. It was the moment where the song stopped being just notes and words and became Brandi Carlile telling her story. I always encourage singers not to chase perfection. I’ll take a slightly sharp note that gives me goosebumps over a flawless, lifeless take any day. Those imperfections, the waver in pitch, the quiver in tone, the slight rasp on a phrase, are what connect us to the listener. They remind us that music isn’t supposed to sound like a machine. It’s supposed to sound like you.
So when I’m comping vocals or producing a session, I’m actively looking for those cracks, those human moments that tell the listener, this is real. Because that’s what great music is about, not perfection, but connection. And sometimes, connection lives right there in the imperfection.
