I suspected trouble when I accepted responsibility for something I had no control over. There was a 50/50 chance of either being the hero or the whipping boy. I didn’t care for those odds, but I couldn’t change them.

It all started when a friend of the family asked me to help make sure that the sound for his wedding didn’t ruin the ceremony. The catch was that I wasn’t handling the sound – his cousin, the part-time DJ, had that job.

I’m not sure if he asked me because he respects my experience, or because he was afraid Cousin DJ would do something to cause the bride to cry. I prefer to think it was the former, and so chose not to ask for clarification.

Enter the rehearsal.

Cousin DJ showed up at the outdoor location with a small powered mixer and a single loudspeaker, but forgot the adapter to patch in his laptop. Fortunately, someone had an iPod and dock with speakers; at least we managed to get playback, tinny as it was.

So the rehearsal was a waste, but we’d be able to make it up before the ceremony since Cousin DJ likes to show up two hours early to get everything setup and checked (paraphrased). Plenty of time to set up and prove the system, as well as soundcheck the guitarist/singer.

Come wedding day, Cousin DJ arrives 40 minutes before the ceremony is scheduled to start. Only 80 minutes late, but hey, at least he brought his trusty sidekick. I already had power waiting, a condenser microphone ready for the acoustic guitar, and when they pulled up, I helped muscle the gear into place.

But once this was done, things changed. Immediately it became obvious that Cousin DJ and trusty sidekick had a “method” all their own – and I was an outsider. I didn’t fight it. After all, the day wasn’t about me.

The loudspeakers were placed directly on the ground, the classic smile slapped on the graphic EQ, and the mic I brought for the acoustic guitar was pushed aside for an SM58. I put my mic back in the family minivan next to the two cases of stuff I’d brought along to cover for Cousin DJ in case he forgot something critical.

So how’d the sound for the ceremony turn out?

The overall volume level should have been louder, but it couldn’t be turned up because the system would have gone into feedback. Actually, though, this was a blessing in disguise, because had it been louder, we would have been inflicting earlash (distortion, etc.) due to the EQ setting.

There was also a hash of noise from the laptop that’s typical of the onboard audio jacks of most sound cards. And last but not least, the woofer on the right speaker kept cutting in and out during the processional.

In the end, my involvement came down to a nervous groom wanting to be sure that everything was going to come out all right. Since ignorance is bliss, the sound was just fine as far as the wedding party was concerned. They had other things on their mind.

Beyond the technical problems that were encountered, the ceremony was marked by what I would classify as poor production judgment.

I highly recommend reading Bob Thurmond’s articles on PSW (here and here) about defining a good system. He’s obviously a seasoned professional with much knowledge and experience, and I came away from his articles with renewed understanding.

Bob touches on the complexity of the problem of trying to uniformly quantify the attributes of a good sound system. Logically, this also extends to every aspect of our craft, where we’re trying to get a handle on what’s ultimately a subjective experience.

After the wedding, I had lunch with Chris Gauvin, a local corporate sound pro. Our conversation meandered here and there, and since he had a forthcoming concert gig, he asked me about my thoughts on band and music mixing. I answered as I always do: 80 percent of the job is getting the levels right – not only the individual elements, but the whole mix.

Yes, EQ, effects and compression can help make things better, but when it comes down to the meat and potatoes, getting the levels right is the majority of the craft. Achieving this takes a process of good production judgment.

But that judgment can only be properly made when you have the solid foundation of a personal quantification system. As humans, we’re wired for communication. The one absolute that we all have is knowing exactly how loud we have to speak for someone else to hear us clearly.

Learning how to use that instinctive knowledge for judging the loudness of a system, and understanding where various types of events belong in that reference, can be a powerful tool.

Now, I’m not going to talk badly about those in our business who set an objective loudness standard and use SPL meters to stick to it. Mainly because I have absolutely no objection to this line of thinking.

But speaking from experience, if you’re doing this, make sure it’s loudness you’re trying to keep a handle on – and not earlash. The worst thing you can do to treat earlash is to deprive the audience of the appropriate listening experience.

Solve the earlash issue and you’ll probably find that the need for an objective loudness standard isn’t so rigorously necessary. Good? Again, yes, but not so absolute.