Watching concerts from the crowd, with the general admission audience, is where I first wondered what was behind those closed, security-protected doors where you needed badges, tickets, wristbands, or an escort to stand with the stars. They called it backstage. 

I don’t remember my first time backstage, but I can recall a Smino concert in 2018. Smino was performing in Atlanta, the ninth stop on his Swanita Tour. That night he brought out T-Pain, and they did an auto-tuned duet of “Chopped and Screwed.” 

After the show, a friend made sure Jarrod Milton and I got backstage to meet Smino and T-Pain. I also met L10 for the first time that night. And a security guard who told me, “Not everything is for everybody.” He made backstage feel sacred--where access is granted to one, not all. 

I like the intimacy of backstage, but I love the secrecy of studios. 

A studio can feel like entering a wizard’s lair. I love walking in and seeing tea brewing, beats playing, and words being chanted, sung, or rhymed. That’s the magical part: The many ways a recorded melody can exist for the rest of time—in a place where every wire and button feels important. 

One of my favorite Viewfinders from last year is the one we did with L10. It was our first time at Classick Studios in Chicago. Where Smino recorded blkswn. Where Chance The Rapper recorded “Acid Rain.” Being there with L10, an engineer, gave me new context to how I heard music. Walking through the rooms also made the stories he shared even more real. As if the energy from all those sessions still lingered in the air. 

During a recent work trip to Los Angeles, I went to a recording studio beneath a hotel resort. Above ground, where the rooms were, portraits of rockstars decorated the walls. Below ground, where the studios are, the lobby walls weren’t covered with portraits, but gold, platinum, and multi-platinum plaques. 

Tyga had three platinum plaques all on one wall. Gucci Mane had a platinum plaque for his song “Both” next to a plaque of Kanye West’s My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy. The one plaque I took a moment to marvel at was Rihanna’s four-times platinum album, Unapologetic.  

I remember Unapologetic for the singles “Diamonds,” “Pour It Up,” and "Loveeeeeee Song" featuring Future. All good songs, all bangers, all records with a commercial reach most recording artists dream of. Who wouldn’t want to write a song that everyone in the world knows? Even if you only did it once, it’ll look like an act of magic. 

Once inside studio A, I spoke with the session engineer about the Netflix movie silently playing on the TV. An animation called Mutafukaz. From Mutafukaz we got into his engineering history. As he told me more about his job, he revealed how Waka Flocka Flame’s “No Hands” and Chief Keef’s “Faneto” were both recorded in Studio B. Neither song sounds like they were recorded in West Hollywood, but I’ve heard crazier stories about where songs were recorded. 

As the conversation continued, I wondered how different the studio looked to the two rappers as they recorded two of their biggest hits. I wondered how different they were then, compared to now. In which ways did those hits change them economically, physically and spiritually?

Rap, as the most popular form of storytelling, doesn’t require million dollar equipment or the best engineering money can buy. Rap consumers only care about if the song is good. Some might say surviving off good music is a form of magic. A kind of alchemy. Turning imagination into ideas. Ideas into songs. And songs into culture. 

I try to remember that music, like food, is a regular part of our daily diets, even though recording artists aren’t chefs, the studio isn’t a kitchen, and songs aren’t meals. 

With music, unlike food, we do not ask how it was made. The consumer does not inquire about which ingredients were used to produce their favorite songs. We only want to know where the music is? When is it dropping? We could care less about how it gets here, but how often determines the quality. And like food, with music, we, the consumer, only want the best.

I’m willing to wait for the best when it comes to music. I don’t care how long artists remain in secret as long as they come back with some gold.

by Yoh.