On an off day at Joe Egan’s, you don’t hear a lot except the wind blowing through acres of woods behind the house, an occasional car rattling down the gravel road out front, and maybe a distant moo from his in-laws’ farm. Outside, remnants of orange cling to the trees and partially obscure — but not for much longer — the mountains huddled over Hinesburg. Inside, a bright green plastic lizard in the window is the only spot of color in Egan’s white-walled studio with its ordered, serious-looking stacks of digital this and that.
But if bucolic silence is golden, it’s also rare here; on most days and nights, that lizard is privy to a whole lotta shakin’ goin on.
This is Eclipse, and Joe Egan — owner, engineer and producer — is the sultan of sound for a steady stream of bands. It was not quite a year ago that he and wife Penny Bissonette moved into the new house, and only last March when the attached studio was completed. Before that, Egan says, he was “doing time in the Old North End,” and his previous recording space had the distinction of squatting behind the Big & Tall Shop off Shelburne Road. Now, home and studio are together — separated only by a fat layer of soundproofing. “I had Rocketsled in here and Penny slept right through it,” Egan testifies.
The brand new home/studio with pastoral views, the sophisticated roomful of equipment and an increasingly busy calendar suggest to some that Egan’s become the Chuck Eller of the younger set. Eller, keyboardist for The Unknown Blues Band and longtime studio whiz, operated for years out of a Burlington bedroom before moving to a dream house in Charlotte and setting up shop. And that “shop” has one more thing in common with Egan’s: the same builder. Tom Freiheit — carpenter by day and guitarist/ vocalist for The X-Rays by night — got a good grip on acoustics at Eller’s gorgeous, high-tech rooms before constructing a more modest version for Egan.
“I don’t have a lot of the vintage or most cutting-edge stuff,” he says modestly, admitting that both Eller and Dan Archer probably surpass him in the equipment department. On the other hand, his 32-track digital studio with 48-input board and eight-track hard disc recorder aren’t exactly Jurassic; all three studios have impressive, overlapping capabilities. “As far as music is concerned,” Egan suggests, “I think we’re on the same playing field.” He also notes that all the studios in the area are always busy — supported by a thriving and still-growing music scene.
Most bands eventually want to record, and when they’ve outgrown the four-track Fostex, it’s time to graduate to a real studio. For many young “alternative” bands, that choice is Eclipse. “I like working with the alt scene,” says Egan. “They’re very passionate about their music and don’t come in with preconceptions. Sometimes it’s the first time they’ve been in a studio and they’re very into it.”
Brad Searles attests that the feeling is mutual. Currently the drummer for Starlight Conspiracy and an intern for Egan last year, Searles says that Egan “has a genuine love for what he does and respect for what people are doing. He likes a lot of local music.” Not known as a clock-watcher, adds Searles, Egan “has enough pride in the studio that he’s not going to let anyone walk out of there if it doesn’t sound good.”
Having recorded at Eclipse three times, Dysfunkshun’s Richard Bailey can’t find enough superlatives for Egan. “He’s really easy to work with, has a great ear, and knows how to translate layman’s terms to technical. His new studio kicks ass. We recorded in one really big studio in New York City and, comparatively, Joe is a genius.” Bailey — and others — appreciate Egan’s talent for identifying their own unique sound. “In a lot of ways Joe captures a little more rawness,” he says, “he captures the personality of the band.”
For his part, Egan — who credits a successful Slush tape with upping his credibility — speculates that bands come to him for “some sort of reputation, some thumbprint.” But word has it they come as much for his easy-going personality as for his ears and reasonable rates. “He’s just an all-round good guy,” Searles enthuses.
Even so, Eclipse doesn’t survive by bands alone. Egan — with Shadow Productions Radio Theater in his past — is also in the jingle business. His repertoire of raspy tenor overvoices can be heard on “zillions of commercials” — he was production director of WIZN for a year. That’s Egan on the Al’s French Fries ad, and, though he may not like to spread it around, he does a mean tractor-pull announcer. Recently he produced sound for an ETV show that debuts this week, “The ABCs of Change,” and is recording the Good Citizen Radio Hour, a project incorporating interviews and live music with local bands.
Born and raised in Green Bay, Wisconsin — he still owns a share of the Packers — Egan came Vermont in 1984 to attend St. Michael’s College. There he earned a degree in English, but it was playing guitar in a band that stuck with him. After a post-college stint traveling in Australia, the music biz called his name — but the late hours of a rocker did not. “I like going to bed early and getting up early,” he confesses. “And the idea of retail was Syrup of Ipecac to me.”
Still, Egan didn’t set out to record professionally. Recording other people gradually evolved from doing his own projects — he acquired his skills hands-on, not at engineering school. The studio grew from his apartment to the Big & Tall to the efficient, bankfinanced structure in Hinesburg. Happily ensconced on a fraction of the Bissonette’s 1000-acre spread, Egan says he no longer has to worry about going out late — now the bands come to him.
This article appears in The Music Issue • 1995.
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