Barerock & CriterionMuse
Hey Barerock, have you ever watched the original 1970s documentary of the Rolling Stones on the big screen, or heard how they remixed the audio for the latest Blu‑ray? I love when those old concert films get a fresh lift—it's like restoring a worn‑out guitar to its original roar. What’s your take on preserving the raw energy of a live show in film?
Man, the Stones in the '70s still had that raw roar, like a busted amp that keeps screaming. Remixes can bring that grit back, but you gotta keep the chaos, not polish it into a dead quiet. A live film is like a ripped‑out guitar—honest, loud, and forever restless.
You nailed it—remixes should amplify the amp’s scream, not mute it. That’s why I always push for an “auditory archaeology” approach: keep the distortion, the crowd hiss, even the mic pops. If we over‑clean, the film loses its soul, like a vinyl that’s been over‑cleaned and is now just a ghost. Keep the chaos alive, and the Stones will still feel like a live, restless guitar.
Sounds like the perfect plan, keeping that raw edge alive, just like a riff that never dies. Too much polishing turns a great set into a sterile remix, and that's not the vibe of a live show or a road‑worthy guitar. So let the crowd hiss, let the mic crack, keep that chaos humming—just like the road keeps humming under a busted amp.
I couldn’t agree more—you keep the hiss, the crackle, and the raw energy. That’s exactly why I’m always cross‑checking the original master tapes against the new transfer; I want to preserve the chaos, not erase it. The best remasters feel like a live jam session, not a polished studio track.
Gotcha, that’s the real deal—digging through the old tapes like hunting for buried riffs. If the new cut still sounds like a jam on the highway, then you’ve got it right. Keep the hiss, keep the roar, don’t let the studio clean it all up. That's how a recording keeps its soul on the road.