Leaving his former digs in Toronto and relocating to this more remote part of the province , Thorney says , was an easy decision . Previously , he was the owner of Tattoo Sound + Music in Toronto and , after selling the business , worked in his apartment before moving into a project-specific space at King West and Spadina . At the time , he was in no hurry to get back into the studio business full-on , but he also wasn ’ t ready to completely give up his creative work , and found himself in need of both gear and a space .
Enter Adam Fair , who Thorney initially hired as , Fair says , “ his personal broker ” to first outfit Thorney ’ s apartment studio , then the King and Spadina space , and , finally , Villa Sound , where they ultimately became business partners .
Thorney was fed up with outfitting studios and dealing with salespeople and gear by then , his partner explains , and having Fair as a go-between for gear and trades was ideal .
Over the next two years , Thorney and Fair recorded and produced several albums together out of the apartment and , later , the production room before relocating to Collingwood . “ Tim was like my mentor , but we went from a mentorship to a partnership . I ’ ve learned a ton of things from him and , I think , I ’ ve sort of kept him interested in the business as well .”
Thorney is originally from Winnipeg and started out with “ basement bands ” and basic recording in the mid-1970s . He also played in the “ new ” Guess Who , wrote with Burton Cummings , and moved to Toronto in 1979 . From there , he began working at Toronto ’ s famed but now-defunct Manta Sound . He ’ s also spent time collaborating with Alanis Morissette and other artists in studios in L . A . and Nashville .
“ I ’ ve been doing this forever ,” Thorney says , “ in a bunch of different roles – producing , songwriting , session playing … I like to say I ’ ll play whatever nobody else is playing – piano , guitar , bouzouki , mandolin , banjo … Anything with strings on it that doesn ’ t look like a violin .”
Fair , a drummer , started out playing in high school , but was always more interested in recording and the studio side of the business . “ I got a four-track recorder when I was 14 years old , bought some cheap mics , and taught myself .” After briefly studying
Recording Arts at the Toronto Film School , Fair interned at Toronto ’ s Phase One Studios , where he first met Thorney .
Upon leaving Toronto , they set up a space in Thorney ’ s Collingwood basement and ran it until three years ago , when Fair found a 150-year-old farmhouse in Singhampton better suited to their needs . “ So we bought it , moved the studio in here , and this is its new , happy home ,” Thorney says . “ All my friends were moving east , which generally made me feel confident about moving west ,” Thorney continues , explaining the choice of Collingwood and , later , Singhampton as bases . While the Collingwood location – a bungalow with the studio in the 1,500-sq . -ft. basement – was fine for their purposes , the newer space in Singhampton is far better , they say . “ It wasn ’ t the specific location that prompted the choice ,” Thorney adds . “ We had to start somewhere quiet , new , and relatively close to Toronto .”
Since moving from the Collingwood space , Villa Sound has upped its game substantially , and Thorney believes it ’ s a far better space in which to make music than either Tattoo or his previous smaller studio . “ This building is just unbelievable ,” he says . “ To have wood that ’ s 150 years old with no resonance , it ’ s amazing . This is the space we were going for all along . It sounds great , and if a room sounds great , you don ’ t have to do much to it .”
Of course , the commerce of the music business has changed radically in recent years . “ In this new economy , are you going to spend $ 300,000 [ on construction ] getting the sound of the city you ’ re in out of your microphones so you can bill an $ 800- per-day session ? No .”
Tattoo , Thorney says , was a giant cinderblock factory – “ and it sounded like it . This is more like a place I worked at in Nashville – an old house , really comfortable , with a fireplace in the live room .” He sees it as a return to old-school recording studios , from as far back as the 1950s , in places like Nashville and Memphis , “ Where real estate was cheap and musicians could afford to live .”
“ Just buying the place was the first step in upping our game ,” Fair puts in .
In determining how to outfit the studio , Thorney and Fair decided to go lean and functional . “ We ended up getting a bunch of mic pres , converters , good speakers , and an SSL Matrix that connects all of it ,” Fair explains .
In all , the studio occupies roughly 2,000 sq . -ft . of the two-storey , 4,000-sq . -ft . house , with the live floor being about 1,000 sq . ft . “ There ’ s actually a kitchen in the middle of that , which is interesting , and it has really high ceilings ,” Fair notes . “ Then , just off of that , is the roughly 300-sq . -ft . control room with total isolation from the live room and an isolation booth .” Having a kitchen in the live room , while unusual , makes the space even better for a casual hang in
Control room
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