Regardless of your thoughts on the winners of the recent Q Awards - the random tossing around of terms like legend, icon, hero and idol; the continued encouragement of the Stereophonics to make music - the whole sorry shebang highlighted the glaring omission that undermines virtually every music awards show: there is no Best Producer Award. The Brits are the same; so are the Mobo and NME awards.
Writing good songs is all very well, but it's only a start. The reality is that most bands - particularly guitar bands - rely on a decent producer in order to sound distinct from whichever group of young hopefuls is appearing third on the bill tonight at your local Dog and Duck. For example, there is no question that without the almost forensic attentions of a battery of highly talented types like Eno, Lanois, Flood and Howie B, U2 would probably still sound like the Alarm.
Conversely, the greatest producers - Tony Visconti, George Martin, Steve Albini, Phil Spector, Billy Sherrill, Quincy Jones, among others - undeniably have their own sound, as distinctive as any band. Having relatively recently interviewed Visconti and Nigel Godrich, it was brought home to me just how much a good producer does for the majority of bands: he's not just the man (and it is usually a man, but that's another issue) who does most of the dull techie stuff, which these days is crucial enough in itself. He will also often help write, arrange and play parts. He will be crucial in shaping the sound of a track, and generally making sure that a song goes into the world with its laces tied, its shirt on the right way round and its chin free of crumbs.
He also has to deal with bands who don't talk to each other, rampant drug habits, and frequently people whose egos won't allow them to see their own limitations. Bluntly, he ensures the damn thing gets finished. In the case of Godrich and Paul McCartney, who worked together on Chaos and Creation in the Back Yard, the producer effectively sacked Macca's band and told the former Beatle that his songs weren't good enough and he had to try harder. That in itself deserves some kind of medal, surely?
Now, I'm sure the best of the bunch are well remunerated for their pains, but to suggest - as these awards bashes tacitly do - that they don't make a really significant creative contribution to the music we all listen to is a preposterous self-delusion. In rap and R&B, the producer is the star - and wields real power. That brings its own problems, but there's no doubt that the pop and rock establishment needs to stop perpetuating the notion that all the plaudits belong to the men and women holding the mikes and the guitars.
