Pigeon Spins Featuring an Interview with The 77 Syndicate & Rowen Shore

The 77 Syndicate & Rowen Shore - The Studio 77 Tapes

Interview with The 77 Syndicate & Rowen Shore

How did you first react when you discovered the box of tapes at the Chicago yard sale, and did you immediately recognize their historical significance?

To be honest, I was annoyed at first. I bought the box for the reels themselves because I needed cheap tape for my own recordings. I didn't think much of it—just dusty junk from someone's attic. It wasn't until I spooled the first reel and watched the VU meters jump that I realized this wasn't just noise. It was a time capsule. I froze. I knew immediately I couldn't record over this.

What drew you to preserve the recordings rather than reuse them, and how did the restoration process unfold over the year?

The energy. You can't fake that room tone. It sounded dangerous, like something that wasn't meant to be heard outside those walls. The restoration was tricky because I didn't want to "clean" it too much. Modern digital remastering often kills the vibe. I spent months just trying to balance the levels without losing the hiss and the dirt that makes it feel alive.

Can you describe the atmosphere of the original Warehouse 77 sessions and what made these after-hours jams so distinct from the musicians’ commercial work?

Based on what I hear on the tapes, it was pure release. These were top-tier session musicians who spent their days playing radio jingles or polished pop. At Warehouse 77, the shackles were off. You can hear them sweating, laughing, and taking risks they would never take on a major label record. It sounds like freedom.

The recordings span Funk, Disco, and early House. How did you approach mastering these diverse styles while maintaining the raw authenticity of the original sessions?

I treated the room as the main instrument. Whether they were playing Funk or drifting into repetitve House grooves at 4 AM, the acoustic signature of that warehouse was the glue. I kept the mastering chain consistent for all tracks to maintain that sense of place.

What challenges did you face in restoring decades-old analog tapes, and how did you overcome them to retain the character of the original sound?

Some sections were damaged or faded. The track "Burn My Name" was particularly rough. I had to make a choice: Fix it digitally and make it sound robotic, or leave the imperfections in? I chose the imperfections. If the tape wobbles, let it wobble. That’s history breathing.

Do you have any insight into the musicians involved, and were you able to track down any of them to share their memories of these sessions?

This is the frustrating part. The boxes were labeled with codes or generic dates. No names. It fits the story that they were contractually forbidden to play there. I haven't found them yet. Maybe releasing this album is the flare gun signal that will make someone come forward.

How does The Studio 77 Tapes capture the moment when Disco began evolving into House, and what makes this transitional period musically significant?

You can hear the fatigue turning into trance. The early tracks on the tapes are structured songs. The later ones—the "Club Versions"—are repetitive, harder, more mechanical. It’s literally the sound of human drummers trying to become drum machines. It’s the birth of modern club culture caught on tape.

What role did the secrecy and legal restrictions play in shaping the energy and creativity of these sessions?

Danger fuels creativity. When you know you're doing something forbidden, you play harder. You can hear the urgency in the basslines. They played like it was their last night on earth because, legally speaking, if they got caught, their careers were over.

As a lo-fi artist, how did your own sensibilities influence the final restored product, and were there artistic decisions made beyond technical restoration?

I think my love for imperfection helped. A pop producer might have tried to autotune the vocals or quantize the drums. I left the mistakes in. If the singer's voice cracks in "Boom! Shake My Groove", that’s emotion. I just framed the picture; I didn't paint over it.

Finally, what do you hope listeners feel or understand when experiencing these tapes for the first time?

I want them to feel like they’ve stumbled into a secret party they weren't invited to. I want them to smell the stale smoke and feel the bass in their chest. It’s not just music; it’s a document of a night that never officially happened.

(•)> That's all, Folks! Check out The 77 Syndicate & Rowen Shore on the Pigeon Spins Playlist