Rhys Muldoon: 'It was just me and my acoustic guitar'

"Music is a moral law. It gives soul to the universe, wings to the mind, flight to the imagination, and charm and gaiety to life and to everything." Plato

Ever wondered what it's like to make a record? I used to wonder, now I know. It is one of the greatest joys I've experienced. I've just completed my second album, the so-called "difficult album". Do not be afraid dear reader, this isn't an advert. I won't even mention the title. The selling comes later. The selling is the hard part and I don't intend to do it now. I'd like to speak to the joy of the journey, not the destination.

Songwriting is such a strange, and normally solitary pursuit. For me, anyway. I need to be alone, relaxed and surrounded by silence. Sometimes time pressure is good, sometimes not. (A bit like writing a column). I tend to start with bare bones. Just the lyrics and the melody and/or chords. I'm a pretty rudimentary guitar player, and I tend to be a fan of major chords. Sometimes the song is about rhythm more than melody, so I'll slap my thighs a lot while singing. I'm also a huge fan of handclaps. They always make me think of the Stooges and the MC5 for some reason. They just feel "good times baby". On a side note: While recording one of the tracks, we went with me slapping my thighs. They looked like I'd been hit by a car afterwards, such was the bruising. Viva le rock.

So yeah, the initial part of the songwriting takes place somewhere alone. The construction of the song takes place in the studio, that blessed and holy and profane place. Oh how I love the studio. It's like heaven, but with more wires. My favourite studio, and the one I used for both albums, is Sing Sing in Richmond, Victoria. There are five studios in the one building, all of various sizes. The glory of this is, you can use a different room for a different type of song. On some songs, we were blessed by the angels that are the Australian Children's Choir. You need a big room for that, and a lot of microphones. I must at this point thank the choir's mighty conductor, Andrew Waites, who translated myself and Spiderbait's Kram (my co-writer and producer). We were very "It um, kinda goes like this". Andrew was all "It's in D. No frog voices … and go". He was awesome and efficient. My God, I love that choir.

For other songs, smaller songs, you find the smaller room. If the vocals need to be intimate, you need a quiet, little room. Well, I do anyway.

Here's my other favourite thing about recording: The hours. They're LONG, but, you start around noon and go through till three or 4am. It's like secret time. It's like stealing time. It's night work. It's like you're working outside of the laws of the universe. It's a freedom that sparkles inside you. Someone once said that work that is joy is not work. I get the sentiment, but for mine, the glory is that it IS work. And you have results before you all the time. Building a song is still building. Sometimes it collapses, but you just knock down the odd wall and keep going. Kram, one of my wisest and dearest friends, has taught me not to get bogged down in one song. Move on to another then come back. Good lesson that one.

So, how a song tends to work (in my experience) is like this:

You put down the drum track, either live drums or an electronic drum. There's your beat. That's your foundation. Then you put in your rhythm, be it guitar or otherwise. Then your melody. Then your vocals. That's the basic template. But of course, feel free to chuck all that out the window. Some songs need tight time, others can be loose. I remember doing a song on the last album, where I was just showing Kram and Davin (the engineer) how it went. It was just me and my acoustic guitar. I walked back into the control room and Kram said "We've got it. Move on". I remember thinking, "But shouldn't there be more pain involved?". But, he was right. Some songs take forever to reveal themselves, this one was one take. It's delicate, imperfect, yet kinda perfect.

The glory of the studio (particularly Sing Sing) is that the entire place is filled with tools to allow you to create. Apart from all the giant boards filled with buttons and knobs that I consider electrickery, there are guitars of all types and sounds and personalities. There are basses that all rumble in their own special way. There are keyboards of all types and from all eras. It is like the most wonderful playground in the world. Oh, and as a bonus, other musicians are there, doing what you're doing and will often pop in for a listen, AND, will often help out on a track. It's just, well, there are no words …

OK, rolling ...

Twitter: @rhysam