Howard Benson unlocks the door to his West Valley Recording Studios, which is hidden at the back of a spacious home in the Woodland Hills neighborhood of Los Angeles. Though it has been pared down from the original space Benson opened in 2012, the tucked-away studio is a major part of the two-time Producer Of The Year, Non-Classical GRAMMY nominee's acclaimed career. Along with being the place where he adds his unerring touch to records by Starset, DIAMANTE, Jonathan Young, and Dead Rabbitts, it's also where he produces the music for Judge & Jury Records.
Benson launched the independent label, production and publishing company with Three Days Grace drummer Neil Sanderson in 2021 — not only adding co-founder to his resume, but also adding another generation of rock stars to his legacy.
In his four decades of music production, Benson has produced over 150 albums, and his work has sold more than 40 million records. After making a name for himself as a producer for rock acts like T.S.O.L. and Motörhead in the '80s and '90s, Benson became one of the most sought-after rock producers in the mid-2000s. Along with helping put My Chemical Romance on the map with their breakthrough 2004 album Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge, Benson also helmed Hoobastank's GRAMMY-nominated 2003 LP The Reason, Saosin's 2006 debut, Creed's last album (2009's Full Circle), and four albums for Three Days Grace.
By the end of the decade, he was averaging 10 albums a year, and his impressive credits earned him back-to-back Producer Of The Year, Non-Classical GRAMMY nominations in 2007 and 2008. While rock has remained his core, Benson's productions have covered a cross-section of musical styles and artists in the years since, including pop darlings Kelly Clarkson and Adam Lambert as well as country trio Rascal Flatts. Now, he's bringing his expertise to Judge & Jury's ever-growing roster, and as a result, Benson has never been more artistically satisfied.
In conversation with GRAMMY.com, the producer reflects on some of his biggest career achievements, and why Judge & Jury Records may just be his favorite.
What was the impetus for Judge & Jury Records?
I was getting tired of not being in control of the projects I was producing and what happened with them after I was finished. Rock being on a "downturn," it became more disappointing to look at the royalties. I thought, "Am I going to stop right now, take the winnings off the table, move to Santa Barbara and forget about it? Or am I going to experiment a little bit?"
It came together sort of by accident because of an artist named Diamante who had gotten dropped. Neil and I signed her to a production deal and financed the making of her record. We had such a good time doing it because we didn't have to answer to anybody. We found the songs. We helped co-write everything. The record did okay, and we started seeing money coming in.
How did that experience lead to Judge & Jury?
The next step was a production company and label. We started looking around, but we were so new at it, we didn't know what we were looking for or what to sign. We set up Judge & Jury Records as an LLC. My son Grady helped. He likes the hard part of the music business: the royalty collection side, the data side, the social media side.
Grady happened on the fact that Starset and Breaking Benjamin were both out of their deals. We were able to do one song with them together, "Waiting on the Sky to Change," and we owned it. For us, that was a big deal. It's a 50/50 split. Keep in mind, as a producer, I'm a three or four points [percentage of royalties] guy. Now I'm a 50 points guy. That's a big difference, but I'm financing it. The song went to No. 1 [on Mediabase Active rock chart].
It was fun. We are captaining our own ship. Now, I can't imagine a scenario where every day I don't know everything that is going on with my records. It's driven by so many more things than I was aware of. Now we're signing significant bands like Saliva and Butcher Babies because we're doing it right.
What were some learning curves with Judge & Jury?
In the beginning, we signed a bunch of garbage and we didn't know what we were doing. We had to accept that we were going to have some failures. I had to learn a lot of business stuff. What's investment banking? How do we borrow money from companies?
It's been a lot more work than I planned on. For about a year I was like, "What am I doing here?" It took me a while to enjoy it.
What were some of the mistakes you made with Judge & Jury?
When we first started the label, we said we have to be exclusive for five albums and we're going to go to radio. We realized both of those were bad concepts. Every time you go to radio, it's $85,000 per song to hit Top 5 on rock radio. We were thinking in a past tense way. The new way doesn't feel like it will make money, but it makes more money.
The deals we make with artists now are non-exclusive. Artists want to have the freedom to do what they want. We looked at this as a bad thing because we were used to exclusivity. But it's actually a good thing, because if we sign an artist and we want to put a song out on September 1, and on September 30, they want to put out a song with their buddies and own it, a major would never let you do that. We let them do that because it's extra money they can make, and it benefits our song.
Are you thinking in terms of albums or only songs?
Artists want to do albums, and I think it's important. It's a story, especially with rock bands. There's still the mystique. What are they trying to say? What is the vision? What's your vector, your force and direction? If you don't have it, you're not going to get those fans.
That's what those fans believe, and 20 years from now, they're going to remember when they hear that Dead Rabbitts album. That's the singer from Escape the Fate. That guy has a vision. He has gone through recovery and sees his life every time he writes a song, so it's easy for me. I always say, "Give me the vision, I can do the rest." If you don't have a vision, I'm screwed.
How has your producer role evolved?
I'm not producing outside Judge & Jury. Artists can't afford me anymore. Even when I produce a record for a semi-big band, it's not enough points and the royalties suck because you're only selling one song instead of 10.
My role has become much more succinct. I do the songs and the vocals. The rest of it, we have people that are younger and have new technology. I'm in my 60s, Neil's in his 40s, the rest of our company are in their 30s and 20s. I don't always agree with them. Sometimes I listen to them and go, "What the hell is this s—?" I think they're nuts. But, they're almost always right.
Their vision of how they see the world is weird and interesting. I remember my parents used to hate that I would listen to music all the time. This is the same. It's just not me, but I'll let them run with it.
How has your outlook changed on the business side?
Our business is not going to sell Taylor Swift numbers. But if we have great songs, our artists' careers are going to do really well. Bands want to succeed. They know it's much harder. There are way more artists and way less money. Before, there was way less bands and way more money. It was a different paradigm. When you walked into a studio, your minimum budget was $300,000. Now, you can make 50 records for that. We make our records here and the budget is probably $20,000-$30,000, soup to nuts, and they sound just as good as the records we were making back then.
What is your attitude toward AI?
Last year, we had a panic attack. We saw AI writing tracks and I called up Atlantic and Sony asking, "What are you guys doing about this?" They said, "We don't care. We don't worry about it. It's not part of our world." It could have been they weren't worried about it, or they were just blind. I had to decide what my worldview was going to be on it, right or wrong. If you listen to Led Zeppelin IV, and you borrow stuff from it to write your next record, isn't that kind of what AI is anyway? Borrowing stuff from stuff? It's just faster.
Am I going to use AI as a tool? Absolutely. It's a great tool. If you have no ideas, and you go, "Write me a song called 'Lights Out'," it writes it fast. You go, "There's five lines in here I like. I'll use those." Question is, who owns it? Nobody knows the answer to that. The small print says the AI company owns it. That's the part the lawyers are going to have to sort out.
AI is going to make live shows more important, because that's the real deal. That's when you're going to see the connection. I might be wrong, but I think people still want to connect with people. That's the feeling part. That's what this is about. Is AI ever going to tour? Are you going to watch a video of the AI and go, "Wow, I relate to that?" Probably not. We have to aim for the part that's connecting. When I see my artists deliver those things, it gives me goosebumps.
Did you see that personal connection from the jump with My Chemical Romance?
Nobody wanted to produce them because their record before mine was a thrash record. My manager said to me, "You need to meet these guys. Something is going on with them." [When] I met them, [they had] no songs [to play for me]. But I looked the singer [Gerard Way] in the eye and I'd done enough at that point in my life where I had this feeling about this kid. He was going to be a star.
I asked him, "Are you worried about the 3,000 fans you have? Or do you want to have 300,000,000 fans? Which kind of record are we going to make?" He goes, "F— the 3,000 fans." I was like, "Okay, we can do business."
Their A&R guy Craig Aaronson called me up one night and goes, "At the end of one of these cassettes is a lyric that goes, 'I'm not okay.'" I remember going to rehearsal and saying, "We have to write a song around that." [Gerard] wrote the song literally overnight, came back the next day with a half-written song. From then on, the record took shape.
That moment of my life, watching it unfold, I realized how simple it is, but it had to be. Think about how many millions of people have connected to that and still do. There was something missing at that point that Gerard tapped into. It's the most influential record I've ever made.
Do you feel rock bands have more of a legacy, and in the process, a more loyal fan base than other genres?
Malcolm Gladwell had a podcast called Revisionist History. He posed the question, "Why are rock lyrics never direct?" Nobody knows what [Nirvana's] "Smells Like Teen Spirit" is really about, but you know there's anger and confusion and desperation in that song and it's coming out. I think that's what makes rock songs long lasting, because you can come up with your own interpretation. They're yours. That's why they go on forever.
When I was producing Chester Bennington, last time we met, I asked him, "Why does Linkin Park sell so many records? What do you think it is?" He said, "Because we write the same song every time: I'm 17, I'm feeling something, and I don't know what it is." If you're a 17-year-old, you totally get it. These guys are confused. I'm confused. Those things are never going to go out of style. That's why you get new fans too. That 17-year-old is now 27 but there's a new 17-year-old who's confused. The 27-year old's probably still confused, but in a different way.
When you have a rock band, you see the same active group of people. They're going to be there forever. They're going to be the VIPs, spending money when they go to your shows, buying all your merch.
When I was working with Irving Azoff [at Giant Records], he said he was going to put Journey on tour. I said Journey was dead and he said, "Those fans are now rich. They're going to come out and they're going to spend money to see this band. It doesn't matter how much we charge, they're going to show up and they're going to buy merch." He was right.
My theory about bands is they're going to start being like sports teams. Even if everybody dies, new people will come in and replace them. The songs are still great. The new fans will not know the difference.
Are you producing any physical product for the Judge & Jury artists?
The bands are in the T-shirt business. We don't take their merch. That's the way they make money.
When artists complain about not having CDs, I tell them, "Go make a CD, see how hard it is. Do the color separation. Do the artwork. Get the plastic done. Print them up. Buy them. Put them in the back of your car. Go to all the stores that exist, if any, and sell them. Or, here's your other option: Send a song to DistroKid. It's up the next day. You're telling me that's not a better deal for you?" Nobody thinks that way. You think that because you're not getting $100,000 for 100,000 streams that it sucks. Well, you're not going to sell $100,000 worth of CDs.
We do a small run of vinyl, but it's lucrative because if you have a dedicated fan base, you can make them for $3 and sell them for $20. We sell them to the artists for the price we pay. They take them on the road and they keep the money.
Vinyl is funny. Nobody plays it. One of my artists, Jonathan Young, couldn't get the vinyl in time, but he could make the 12x12 flat, so he just sold the flat. People paid $5 for a flat that cost him $.50 to make. He sold out of them.
Do you find artists are savvier than they used to be about the business side of music?
You would be surprised how little bands know about how to collect. When bands say they can't make any money doing this, I say, "Yes, because you don't collect it." They don't have Sound Exchange set up, BMI or ASCAP set up, publishing set up. Who is paying them? And these are experienced bands.
Artists' biggest problem is hiring a business manager. It's like having a crutch. They never learn how to do it. I'm not saying you have to learn how to do it, but you should know if the money's missing. It's a lot of paperwork and it's so complicated and nobody's going to help you with it because there's nothing in it for them.
I always say, remember when we sign an artist, we're signing their family, their kids, their preschools. We have to make sure we deliver for these people, account to them correctly, make sure they know when they recoup, and give them the tools they need.
What advice would you give to someone who wants to be the next Howard Benson?
The career path is: "Who's Howard Benson?" Then, "Get me Howard Benson!" Then, "Get me the next Howard Benson!" Then, "Who's Howard Benson?"
Dustin Bates from Starset has found a niche for himself by traveling to the artists. He has his whole set up in his laptop. Dan Lancaster, who's producing the next Three Days Grace record, came from England. He makes the record on the laptop, right in front of them. They write the demos, then record it.
That's the new version of producer: a person that shows up in your hotel room with your five guys and has a demo when he walks out two hours later, done. You have to be me in this new way, which is quick, no waiting, two, three weeks, max. They're like doctors doing home visits with all the tools.
Attach yourself to great music. Don't make crap. Even with all the cool production s—, the songwriting has to be great. You still have to have great lyrics. If you can recognize talent, people are going to always want to be around you.