As one of the world's most sought-after studios, New York's Power Station is now moving into the world of A/V. Founder manager Tony Bongiovi looks forward to new challenges, as well as recounting to Simon Braund some fraternal difficulties of the recent past...

Not only is New York's Power Station one of the most famous recording studios in the world, it's also one of the finest. With over 400 gold and platinum records rolling out of the door during its 17-year history, and a client list that reads like a Who's Who of contemporary rock and jazz, the statistics speak for themselves. In fact, it would probably be easier to name the artists who have not availed themselves of its extensive facilities at one time or another, than to list those who have. To put it in further perspective, no less than nine of this year's 13 major Grammy award winners were recorded and/or mixed at Power Station.

With that in mind, it's all the more surprising to find the Power Station far enough west of Midtown Manhattan to escape the glamour of the monied spires. Perched on the northern tip of what was once Hell's Kitchen, it's a grey concrete box opposite a schoolyard which bears no exterior clues to the celebrated goings-on inside. There isn't even a sign over the single glass door to let you know you're in the right place. It's all very much part of the plan.

This theme of understatement continues inside the building, which eschews hi-tech glass and chrome styles in favour of funkier decor. In comparison to, say, Chiswick's Metropolis, Power Station is downright homely. But co-owner and designer Tony Bongiovi makes no excuses for that. In fact, he counts it crucial to the success of the place.

"It's just a studio," he insists. "And if it's just a studio I'm going to make a studio that is going to work to make records. That means you've got to keep the musicians happy, and Power Station is designed for the bands to play in. Everything about this place is designed for musicians. For example, the whole place is built out of pine. It's cheap wood, acoustically it works great, and easily replaceable if it gets damaged. In one of the rooms I have a plywood floor, you know why? Because if you go to see a band play and there's a rhythm section, which is what it was designed for, they want to be comfortable; it's okay to put cigarettes out on, and we can put nails in the floor. When I see a lot of modern studios, I want to get a stove and a couch and move in there. But I certainly don't feel comfortable working in that atmosphere, because it's not reality. The reality is that musicians play on stage, and to make them feel comfortable, not only do they have to feel comfortable acoustically, but the psychology of the room has to be right. There's no expensive furniture here, no exotic paintings, nothing that will take away from the artist's ability to perform."

Behind the unpretentious decor, however, lurks a fearsomely well-equipped audio/video post production facility. It's a central tenet of Bongiovi's philosophy to give visiting producers everything they need to do their job.

"The idea," he says, "is to make the producer the star, the hero. Record companies are not your client, the producer is the client – the artists are too, but the only time the artist becomes the client is when he has enough hits out there to control the label, to control the money. See, it's all about money. A smart businessman at the record label is going to turn around and say, 'You're the producer, you'd better finish this record and here's how much money you have to spend.' He doesn't tell the artist that. The producer's the businessman; he's supposed to know. So when he comes to the studio he's the most important thing, and we'd better make sure that he's taken care of.

"Technically, the studio is designed very well and it works from a producer's perspective. If you come in here, you just feel that you're going to get a record out of the place. The second thing is that all of the equipment here works; we have electrical engineers that work here who maintain everything. It's very rare that we have a massive failure at Power Station. If we do, it's because of the cross-technologies involved, but our scheduled maintenance usually pre-empts it."

Compounding that is an administrative service that is second to none, and the fact that Bongiovi is constantly on hand to guide producers through the process of using his studio, offering advice where required and ensuring that they extract as much as they can from the system. He refers to the studio as a 'tool'; in many ways a telling description.

Of Power Station's three main recording rooms, Studio A is the largest. At 52 by 48 feet, it is a cavernous space with sliding glass partitions and arched walls rising up to an extraordinary octagonal domed ceiling. The term 'sonic cathedral' springs to mind. The centrepiece of the compact control room is a fairly old custom Neve 8068 40-input console.

Other features include 24 tracks of Dolby A noise reduction, and a checklist of outboard gear that boasts 12 Pultec equalizers, Yamaha REV 5 digital reverb, a Lexicon PCM-70 digital effects processor with version 3.01 software, a Lexicon PCM-42 digital delay processor, two Drawmer DS201 stereo gates, two Studer B-67 tape recorders and an Adams-Smith synchronizing system with a linear time code generator and three synchronizer modules.

Monitoring is handled by an unexpected choice of two sets of Altec 'Big Reds'. There's a pair in the control room and a pair for studio playback, while power amps are Yamaha P2200s in the control room and studio, with Crown DC300s juicing the headset feeds. That's just a small selection of permanent installations, and when you add to it the options of stereo playback via analogue cassette or R-DAT digital recorders, a dazzling array of mics vintage and modern, a mountain of outboard equipment available on request, and exhaustive hire facilities, you'll understand that this is a studio with resources to match its ideology. But, as Bongiovi is quick to point out, equipment can be bought by anybody with the cash to pay for it; what really counts here is how it's used.

"The control rooms are all small," he says. "And working with acoustics and working with sound, the philosophy that I've incorporated into the design of Power Station is, I guess, the same as you'd apply to a jet fighter. (Bongiovi has done extensive work as an acoustics consultant for the US military, by the way.) Most studios are the Lear jets of the industry; corporate planes built for comfort more than speed; Power Station is like an F15.

"There's no expensive furniture here, no exotic paintings, nothing that will take away from the artist's ability to perform"

"The down side of that is that it's very easy to make a mistake. For example, the monitor speakers that I use here, the Altec system, was developed in the 40s. They don't reproduce faithfully what's actually happening in the room. In sound, it's better to get as close to the fundamental frequency as possible and not the harmonics. What we hear as sound is harmonics. When you put a speaker system in there that's all pumped up and flat, it sounds great, but it's not reality and it affects how you record and how you balance things. I force the guys who work here to use those speakers, and one thing that happens is that when you reference on them, you really undertand and develop a technique for equalizing that you would not use under normal circumstances or with speakers of today's technology. I'm 100 per cent in favour of speakers of today's technology for the home environment, or in arenas, or dance clubs, but in the working environment you're supposed to know how much bass to put on something. Just like when you play piano, wouldn't it be easier to put numbers on the keys instead of notes? You have to have a certain amount of talent."

Even if Bongiovi's concepts can seem cranky, they're all grounded in an irreproachable knowledge of acoustics. And with production credits as diverse as Jimi Hendrix, The Ramones, Talking Heads and Ozzie Osbourne, there's additional weight to his assertions. There's also no doubt that Power Station's reputation rests, to a great extent, on the sound of its rooms, all of which were built to Bongiovi's exacting specifications.

"When you have a room with a lot of absorption," he explains, "the best thing to do is to take the considerations of the room and treat them linearly. Everything about Power Station is done to get it as linear as possible. I don't believe in a live end, dead end: People don't hear like that, it's nonsense," he says, dismissively. "If people are going to hear, you put them in an environment they can hear in, so if the room is going to be live it should be uniform; linear. If you're in a dead room you don't want a slick floor, it's going to reflect too many high frequencies. You want a floor that's going to absorb."

And put up with cigarettes being stubbed out on it, of course: "Here we use a crudely finished plywood – which also happens to be inexpensive – and the other end of the room, where it's a little liver, I have an oak floor, but it's still only the stuff you glue down, from a corner store. The physics, art and understanding of acoustics is something I'm very knowledgeable about," he says, as if he's stressed the low-tech too far. "I can assure you I know exactly what I'm doing when I design a room, even if it seems a bit casual. In Studio A, the way the walls curve in, I wanted that so there was no distance greater than 30 milliseconds away. It's important to me to get the reflection, for the echo to come back in real time."

Bongiovi's attention to detail and desire for a perfect acoustic space even led him to the architectural study of rooms that had specifically desirable properties.

"There's a place called the Eastman School Of Music," he explains. "They had a room there that a lot of the musicians liked, so I got some books on it and looked at that. Then I went to Boston Symphony Hall (an auditorium reputed to have some of the finest acoustics in the world) and I liked that too. The horn guys, they used to tell me that they couldn't hear and they couldn't play in tune, so I built them a room that they could play in. And the idea for the separate rooms (all Power Station studios can be partitioned into separate rooms) came from Motown. So I said 'Shit, if it works there, it'll work here.' Why fix it if it ain't broke?"

Bongiovi will cheerfully discuss Power Station in broad outline, but on the particulars of studio design he's more guarded. Whatever these proprietary secrets, they work – so well, in fact, that people have actually booked time in an attempt to unravel them. It's not only testament to the studio's success, but a fine compliment to Bongiovi's unorthodox methods. Ironically, it was some careless talk from an engineer at Detroit's old Motown studios that launched Tony's career.

"I made a phone call." he remembers, "more as an inquisitive student than someone who wanted to break into the industry. There were some technical features of the Motown sound that I thought I'd learnt, and I was really only calling for verification. I spoke to a fellow named Lawrence Horn, he put me on to a guy named Mike McClain. I was seventeen years old, and the next thing I knew I was involved in building New York's first 12-track studio."

In fact, the upshot of his call to Motown was a plane ticket to Detroit and sporadic employment as the youngest recording engineer in the company's history. While there, he worked with such artists as Stevie Wonder, Gladys Knight & The Pips, Diana Ross & The Supremes and The Temptations. He also soaked up as much information as possible from the label's roster of stellar producers, and learnt (from such luminaries as Holland-Dozier-Holland) that by and large, it's the producer who's the hit factory. He also received a grounding in acoustics and studio design that remains the cornerstone of his approach; techniques that he put to full use when building Power Station.

Not surprisingly, he was also gaining a substantial reputation in New York as a hot shot young engineer. He was soon snapped up by the Record Plant, where he was able to flex his talents by improving the design of the studio and creating the 'Tony Bongiovi sound', which he applied to recordings by artists like Vanilla Fudge, Dr. John, John McLaughlin and Jimi Hendrix.

"Most studios are the Lear jets of the industry; corporate planes built for comfort more than speed; Power Station is like an F15"

In 1970 he joined Media Sound and quickly became the most sought after engineer and producer on the staff. He played a major role in the studio's ability to attract a world-class clientele, and enjoyed huge personal success via his work with Gloria Gaynor, The Isley Brothers, The Ramones (Rocket To Russia) and Talking Heads (Talking Heads '77). From the royalties he earned as a producer, Bongiovi founded Power Station in 1977 with his partner and ex-Media Sound president Bob Walters (now retired). From there the studio has gone from strength to strength, with a reputation not only for satisfying the most demanding customers in the business (Eric Clapton, The Rolling Stones, Madonna, Aerosmith, Bruce Springsteen, B.B King and Miles Davis to name a few), but also for discovering and nurturing new talent. Unfortunately, the latter practice led to what Bongiovi now describes as the biggest mistake of his life: Jump-starting the career of his second cousin Jon Bon Jovi.

"I can show you evidence of how much money I spent on him," he says. "Singing lessons, dermatology bills, everything, but if you talk to him you'd think I gave him a broom and 50 dollars a week. He's not telling the truth."

So what did he see in young Johnny Bongiovi that persuaded him to make the investment in the first place?

"What did I see? I saw he was my cousin. They said, you've got a business, you've got to get your family involved. Biggest mistake I ever made, biggest on all accounts."

Accounts is the operative word here, since Bongiovi shows me reams and reams of bills and receipts which certainly convince me that if Jon Bon Jovi did ever sweep the studio floor, he was the most pampered broom-pusher who ever lived.

"I got stuck for it, I never thought my family would do that. I broke my cardinal rule and did something without a contract because it was family, I trusted him. I did everything but sing his f***in' records. And you know what he did when he had a hit record? He blackballed me, came out with horrific stories that denied my involvement, and I haven't produced a record since."

On a more positive note, the latest addition to Power Station's already impressive facilities is the installation of a fully integrated audio-for-visual post-production unit. Studio D/AV 1 was instigated in response to the ever-closer relationship between the audio and visual industries. It was designed by Bongiovi as a hybrid suite that would appeal, primarily, on the strength of Power Station's track record in mixing high-quality sound. Built around an SSL 4000 G Series console integrated with a New England Digital Synclavier 9600 and an NED post-production digital direct-to-disk workstation, it features Sony 3324 digital 24-track and Studer A800 24 track analogue machines. It is also configured for album recording as well as film and video post.

The beauty of the setup that it also allows access to equipment in any of the other studios, and provides a one-stop location for audio/visual clients. For instance, Studio A can be used for recording live music, and since it is big enough for a 60-piece orchestra it is often favoured for feature film work, and the multitracks can be rolled straight into Studio D for mixing. Sweetening can be added via the Synclavier and the studio's extensive sound-effects library, while voice-overs can be recorded in one of the booths and with a custom Augsburger monitor system and GE Taleria 10-foot video projection screen, the whole kit-and-kaboodle can be locked to picture in one room.

Naturally, they don't have the space of the really big sound houses like Sound One and Todd-AO, who still corner much of the feature film market, but with a commitment to sound recording excellence that outstrips their major competitors and a belief in the future of a digital/workstation operation, they're confident their portfolio will grow.

At the moment, feature work isn't as forthcoming as it might be, but with a clientele of top advertising agencies, TV companies and bands doing post on live video shoots, the studio is ticking over nicely. And although the control room is larger and perhaps less suited to it than others in the complex, D/AV 1 has proved very popular with a range of recording artists. Furthermore, in keeping wth Power Station's policy in other areas, they place an emphasis on nurturing new talent. Being under one roof, the facilities are perfect for independent, small budget filmmakers who don't have the financing to make use of a variety of studios. The rationale here is very much in line with album recordings: Power Station offers its expertise and hardware for a nominal sum, on the proviso that if the filmmaker gels a major deal, they'll come back, and probably bring others with them.

The future plans that Tony Bongiovi has for Power Station are as enterprising as you might expect. He is currently working on a project that will franchise out the Power Station name to other locations worldwide: with the first off-shoot already under way in Connecticut. The objective is to create a network of studios built around Bongiovi's concepts in acoustic design, and run according to the administrative practices that have served him and his list of superstar clients so well. It's an exciting prospect, not least because it encapsulates a vision of a state-of-the-art recording studio that doesn't mind you stubbing your Marlboros on the floor. But the last word, of course, goes to the indefatigable Tony:

"The studio is just a tool. But in today's marketplace, the studio designer and the studio thinks of itself as the entity. That's not the entity, the studio is the bottom of the food-chain. It's the last thing you want to have, but it's the first thing you need to make a record. You have to keep it in perspective; it's just a studio."