About this interview
In a 2009 interview with Ryan Minic of Ryan's Rock Show, Repeater told the story of how they ended up working with legendary producer Ross Robinson, and how one random MySpace message changed everything for their band. They weren’t expecting much when they added Ross on MySpace—it was more of an afterthought than a strategic move. They saw his profile, added him like they did with a lot of other people, and went about their day. Then, out of nowhere, they got a message from Ross himself.
One of the guys was at work when he checked his MySpace account and saw the message: “Hey, you guys are awesome. If there’s anything I can do, let me know.” At first, they thought it was a joke. It had to be a prank. Why would Ross Robinson—someone who produced Korn, At the Drive-In, and The Blood Brothers—randomly message them out of the blue? They called each other in disbelief, thinking one of their friends was messing with them. But it wasn’t a joke. Ross was serious. And not long after that, he showed up in person at their practice space with his engineer, a filmmaker friend, and his dog. That’s when it finally hit them. This was really happening.
Ross hung out, listened to some of their songs, and got to know them a little. He told them he wanted to produce their next record. Even then, it still felt a little surreal. They spent the next month or two solidifying plans, and by April 20th of that year, they were in the studio with Ross, recording the album.
When asked if they felt any pressure playing for Ross for the first time, they admitted they were scared to death. They knew Ross had flown out to see bands before, only to be disappointed by how they sounded live. They didn’t want to be that band. They were fully aware of Ross’s reputation for seeking out bands with raw, honest performances—bands that could bring it live. So, they treated that first rehearsal like it was a real show. They knew they had to prove themselves, and they didn’t want to let him down.
Once they were in the studio with Ross, the experience was unlike anything they’d ever done before. Ross didn’t come in with a rigid plan. When they tried to ask him ahead of time what the recording process would be like, he didn’t give them much to go on. He just told them, “It’s going to be whatever.” He preferred to work in the moment, feeling things out as they happened, which was wild for a band used to carefully crafting their songs and aiming for precision. But once they understood his approach, they leaned into it.
One of Ross’s big rules in the studio was no click tracks. He didn’t want anything to be perfect. He wanted it to be real. For a band that had always worked hard to get everything as tight as possible, it was a challenge to unlearn that mindset. Ross would tell them not to play perfectly, to actually play worse if they had to. He told them that perfection was stress, and stress killed the emotion in the performance. He wanted them to be in the moment. It wasn’t about playing it clean; it was about playing it true. They joked that when their drummer played too well, Ross would get mad and tell him it sucked. But they understood what he was getting at. He wasn’t looking for technical mastery. He was looking for something deeper, something that couldn’t be replicated by precision alone.
They also appreciated how Ross thought about the big picture but didn’t let them get distracted by it. He told them not to worry about things like business or marketing until the record was done. If they focused on making something great, the rest would follow. They believed that too. If the music was good enough, people would find it.