+ by Rahsaan “Wordslave” Eldridge + photos by Alison Harbaugh
When we as children were asked what we want to be when we grow up, it usually meant “What do you want to do for work?” Some people would say detective or pediatrician. Some would become first grade teachers or take over the family’s sandwich shop. Some people would wander, making many turns and pivots until reaching their destination. When a young Steve Wright was rigging a tape deck to the back of his father’s stereo to record songs from Casey Kasem’s radio show, he didn’t know it was the genesis of his career as a legendary studio engineer and producer. His parents didn’t know it either, but Wright credits their empathy, compassion, and hard work as the roadmap to his own success.
Wright grew up in Annapolis, raised by his mother, a hospice nurse, and his father, a weapons training officer at the US Naval Academy. Sometimes he tagged along with his parents to work, soaking up wisdom from his observations and interactions. With his father, he saw people training for combat before deployment. Wright compares watching people learn to shoot to watching paint dry but says it taught him focus and discipline. He saw his mother show empathy and compassion for her clients, who faced imminent mortality, and for their families. “That’s what I get from my mom,” he says. “[She’s] very in tune with people’s personalities. [She] has an incredible knack for understanding people.” Those lessons were foundational tools that were instrumental to him thriving in the music business.
Wright also looked up to his older brother, who exposed him to rock music. He wasn’t allowed in his brother’s room, so he sat outside the door, listening to bands such as Led Zeppelin, the Clash, Van Halen, and the Grateful Dead. When his brother came home for college break with a new guitar, Wright became fascinated, watching him shred. The guitar stayed behind after his brother returned to school, and Wright was told not to touch it. Predictably, he didn’t listen—he became obsessed and played every day. He was more than happy to show his big brother some tricks the next time he came home.
Wright’s new obsession came in handy as a member of Bovox Clown, a band he formed with three friends at Annapolis High School. The group toured the country and enjoyed award-winning success, including winning the MTV Beach House Band Search Contest in 1994. Wright attributes much of the band’s success to its business acumen, noting how it hosted pizza parties for friends to help stuff tapes in mailers as promos. Wright also said the members were good at “playing the credit card game” to finance everything.
The band recorded at LSP Studios in Annapolis. Owner and head engineer Les Lentz noticed that Wright’s talents extended beyond playing guitar and singing background vocals—he also arranged parts, produced, and showed a clear interest in the technical side of recording. Lentz showed Wright how to operate the studio equipment there. He also set up Wright’s own studio in his parents’ basement, where Wright began running recording sessions as an extension of LSP Studios. According to Lentz, Wright learned quickly and was ready to run a studio in less than three years.
Early on, while in Bovox Clown, Wright told himself that if the band wasn’t progressing every three months, then he would leave. He kept this promise a secret, but one day, at the end of a grueling tour, he walked off the bus and told his bandmates that it was his last show, and he never returned. He was also dealing with a medical issue with his wrist that forced him to stop playing guitar. When Wright left, he bought the band’s equipment and started running live sound around Annapolis four to five nights a week while still operating his home studio.
One of his earliest clients, Ruben Dobbs, of Swampcandy, led to a connection that resulted in another significant turn. One night, Dobbs invited Wright to listen to the Baltimore rock band Lake Trout. After the show, Dobbs introduced Wright to the band members, and shortly thereafter he was touring with them as their sound technician. When they decided to start recording their next project, they chose High Heels Studios in Baltimore and reached out to Wright to be their engineer. He was apprehensive about taking the gig at first, because of his limited experience in a major studio, but he was convinced when the lead singer said, “Good, none of us know what we’re doing. We’ll figure it out together.” He went on to produce and engineer several of their records and tour with them for years as their front-of-house sound engineer.
Wright’s passion was evident. He was hustling, running live sound and engineering studio sessions. He also stumbled into a job at Chuck Levin’s Washington Music Center when he volunteered his services as a runner to grab coffee and run errands but instead began repairing mixing consoles. He admits that he didn’t know what he was doing initially, but that experience set him up for what was to come.
His work at High Heels Studios caught the attention of studio owner Arnold Geher and Mitch Allan, lead singer and guitarist of SR-71 and studio manager and main engineer at the time. When Allan’s band secured a major label deal, Geher asked Wright to take over the studio full time. On that same day, Wright received an offer to work full time at Clean Cuts sound studio, where he had been freelancing. He was at a crossroads. “I had two days to decide whether I wanted to follow my dreams or have job security and go off and work in the corporate world,” he recalls. He chose to take the job at High Heels Studios, which he later renamed Wright Way Studios. When asked why he decided to take over the studio, he replies matter-of-factly, “Because it was my dream.”
He was “scared shitless” when he took over, but he managed to pay the rent by leveraging his relationships with bands that he met while running sound. He offered discounted recording rates to entice clients. For three years, he slept in the studio on an air mattress and kept a dresser there. Over time, he expanded the facility into four studios and digitized the equipment, helping to keep recording costs low.
Wright’s reputation as one of the best producers and engineers extends beyond his technical skills and to his love for people, attention to detail, care for the craft, and respect for the artist’s vision. “If you ever met Steve, you just trust him,” says Lentz. “He has this way of making you feel super comfortable, bringing out the best in you,” says Dobbs.
When working with new clients, Wright wants to get into the band’s musical head by learning the members’ influences. “I don’t care if it’s Frank Sinatra farting into a kazoo,” he says. “If it inspired you when you were younger, I want to hear it.” If necessary, he will attend band practice or shows to gain a deeper understanding of who a band is. “It’s not necessarily about the music,” he says. “It’s not about the rock stars. It’s about the people.”
The testimonials from artists show a through line of praise for Wright’s skill and ability to communicate and to help artists realize who they are artistically and achieve their recording goals. Brit Olsen-Ecker of Outcalls recalls being nervous and then calmed and reassured by Wright during their first session together. Justin Kruger and Jordan Sokel of Pressing Strings appreciate his sharp ear for drum tones and guitar tuning. Cullen DeChant of Honest Lee Soul attributes his own heightened awareness and evolution as a guitar player to his experience working with Wright. On her first visit to Wright Way Studios, guitarist and singer Mary Lankford (Mary-eL) saw the control room and the accolades on the wall and said, “Oh, this guy is legit!” Wright walked her through a vocal warmup that helped her get the best performance, and he didn’t criticize, which Lankford appreciated.
The range of clients spans from hometown heroes such as Jah Works, Kelly Bell Band, Dru Hill, Super City, Laughing Colors, and Fertile Ground to stars that include Wiz Khalifa, 2 Live Crew, and Hezekiah Walker. If Wright isn’t on the project himself, then he passes it with confidence to a team of producers and engineers boasting 80 years of combined experience. He says that he hires people with “some sense of business and an ability to be personable and work well with people.”
“I can teach them the audio side,” he says, and ultimately the projects will sound great. But it’s those intangibles that he learned while tagging along with his parents—focus, discipline, compassion, and empathy—that keep artists going the Wright way.
For more information, visit wrightwaystudios.com.
