The recording studio.
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The owner of this property was inspired by funky old buildings that had been converted into recording studios. In addition to the recording space, this retrofitted barn includes a kitchenette, a lounge, a bathroom, and an office.
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Designers from Schwartz and Architecture test the acoustics. The studio’s walls are covered in hemlock wainscoting capped with white oak trim.
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“The technical requirements gave us an opportunity to make this into architecture, beyond just a barn,” says Neal Schwartz. The front porch doubles as a stage, and the clearing beyond serves as a performance space.
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Wanna buy a barn? Architect Neal Schwartz’s client—a music lover (who asked not to be named)—was set on building a private recording studio in one. So Schwartz’s firm, Schwartz and Architecture, contacted Heritage Barns. “It’s totally a mail-order barn company,” says Schwartz. The company dismantles old barns in upstate New York, ships them to Texas to grade the lumber, then reassembles them elsewhere. Three rough-and-tumble Texans pulled up to the forested Sonoma County property with the timber frame in the back of their truck, Schwartz recalls. “Three days later, this mysterious old barn frame from New York was standing in the middle of the California redwoods.”
The recording studio was intended for an empty clearing surrounded by trees. “The real challenge was how not to ruin it,” says Schwartz. Literally: While the goal was to tuck the studio within the grove, disturbing the roots of a redwood can kill the entire tree. So the architects enlisted an arborist and a structural engineer to float the entire barn several feet off the ground on a pier structure.
Then the designers began collaborating with the acoustic engineer, Tom Schindler. “We said, ‘you tell us the parameters and we’ll design it,’” says Schwartz. “Every architectural detail began first with sound quality.” For starters, no two walls could be parallel—in fact, they had to be angled seven degrees—and the tracking room and isolation booths all needed to have clear sight lines into the control room.
One thing that Schwartz’s team discovered about sound-baffling material: it’s ugly. “It looks like egg-crate foam,” says Schwartz. They wrapped the douglas fir frame in slotted hemlock wainscoting, which hides the acoustic panels and dissipates sound.
Soundproof sliding glass doors lead to a 25-by-18-foot porch—or stage, if you wish—and picture windows open to the surrounding woods. Though all that double- and triple-paned glass posed an acoustic challenge, the owner decided to forgo a totally controlled, antiseptic sound. After all, “Why put a recording studio in the middle of a redwood grove if you don’t feel connected to nature?” asks Schwartz.
Originally published in the October issue of San Francisco magazine