Debt threatened The Compound, but a benefit album has given this recording studio new hope.
Editorial Intern
Anthony Arvizu sat by the console at his recording studio, The Compound, thankful. “It takes a village to raise a studio,” Arvizu observed. The Compound had bleak prospects; indebted like other studios, it was poised to go under. The lease was up, and Arvizu could get out now.
“I’ve made a lot of good records here. Had a lot of good times. Met a lot of great friends…If it ended, I can accept that. I can be happy with that. And just know it was a chapter in my life and I’m moving on,” Arvizu said. “I was thinking it’s time to stop. And I started telling people that. I started talking to different clients, friends, going, ‘You know, I’m thinking about giving it up’ and everyone’s like, ‘No, you can’t do that. You can’t. Come on. We need The Compound. We love The Compound. Everyone loves The Compound.'”
Arvizu hatched a plan. He went to former clients and friends for help, asking them to provide him original songs to form a compilation benefit album, to draw awareness to the studio and raise funds. The 49-tracks result is S.O.S. (Save Our Studio) A Benefit Album. The album includes bands as varied as Avi Buffalo, Phantom Limb and Jay Buchanan.
“I started asking around, and, I got to say, nine out of 10 people said yes,” Arvizu said. “There’s a handful that said no, and I’m still scratching my head as to why. Everyone has their reasons. But mostly everyone said yes, and that’s just beautiful.” The tracks were mostly recorded at the studio. One artist, Krista Polvere, traveled from Melbourne, Australia all the way to the quiet Signal Hill spot.
“There was no pressure. It was a free song…it became very clear that everybody had this happy, loose attitude…and as a result we got great songs. Because they were having fun,” Arvizu said. “I also think it was the spirit of generosity. They knew they were doing a good thing, they’re helping out, we’re teaming up and getting family-like. And I think it made for a good record.”
Arvizu joined The Compound Studio in 2003, after many years of freelancing as a sound engineer. He was always interested in the sound engineering side of making records, even in high school. “I had a quarter-inch four-track machine with a little twelve-channel mixer. Probably got that when I was 19 years old,” Arvizu said. “I was the guy who’d bring the PA [speakers] and plug in the mics, and I understood the equalizer.”
Arvizu drummed for his band at the time, The National People’s Gang, and handled the recording side. The band would practice and record out of a big space in Irvine where women would jazzercise. “Our guitarist’s mom would jazzercise. So they got this big space and this big workout room. And then next to it is a smaller room…and that was their nursery,” Arvizu said. “Our guitarist’s mom says, ‘Hey, my kid needs somewhere to practice.’ Jazzercise closed at like 8:00 at night.” The band used the space after hours, sometimes until 6am, and, being in an industrial area, they did not have to worry about bothering residents.
The facility became a makeshift studio. “I would take my four-track recorder, and I would put my drums in the big room, like in a studio…then I’d set up my mixer and some big speakers, like our PA speakers, in the next room where we would rehearse on any other given night,” Arvizu said. “Our bass would just go direct in, and he’d hear himself through these big speakers. We’d put the guitar amp in the bathroom and mic it, and then the singer would just sing through the PA.” Arvizu’s method made the drums isolated, and the band recorded many times.
Increasingly interested in sound engineering, Arvizu enrolled in a program at Golden West College. He studied there for a year and dropped out once his band got a record deal. “We get thrown into the studio. Now, I’ve gone to school for a year for recording. I’m in the studio making records with my band. I’m living the high life. I’m like 25 years old and loving it,” Arvizu said. He and the band toured for about three years. The band ended, and, jobless, Arvizu jumped into sound engineering at The Toledo, a now defunct recording studio. Freelancing for the Eddie Reed Big Band brought Arvizu to Capitol Records, where Arvizu was amazed at the professionalism and resources of the studio; he later joined Capitol and was there until he joined The Compound.
The Compound was once an empty barn, which founders Ken Negrete and Steve Cross converted into a studio. Arvizu joined as studio owner after Negrete left in 2003, wanting a local place (Capitol is far away from Long Beach, in Hollywood) and a place to call his own. Arvizu also acts as producer or musician on records sometimes, not solely engineer. Arvizu stayed on as owner even after Cross and another, newer partner left.
His first priority as owner is professionalism. Studio equipment at smaller places besides Capitol was often in a state of disrepair; unhappy with this, Arvizu was and is determined to have The Compound held to the high standards of Capitol. “I don’t want it to be another one of these joker studios like I’ve been going to. I want to go to a place where stuff works, and when stuff doesn’t work we get it repaired,” Arvizu said. “I don’t care if we don’t have any money. I don’t care if we’re broke. I don’t want to run a place unless it works.”
The benefit album has already helped The Compound, more so from the press than the profits. Arvizu described asking for help as a humbling process. “I opened up and said, ‘Hey, I need help,’ and people are coming forward,” Arvizu said. “Let that be a lesson to you. When you need help, ask. People want to help. I think it’s true. We want to be helpful.” Investors have approached Arvizu in the album’s aftermath, and there’s talk about setting up a record label out of the studio.
The Compound, 1833 Reservoir Dr., is the only professional recording studio in Long Beach and Signal Hill. “I’ve often thought, ‘Why don’t I go nonprofit status?’ I don’t know exactly what the criteria is, but I certainly don’t make any money here,” Arvizu said, then laughed. “I am not for profit. I basically make just enough money to keep the doors open, and sometimes more than that. And I go into debt…it’s totally a labor of love.” He re-signed the lease for another five years.
More Information
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