Oh, Lord. Mr B is going to let them In The Studio.
Just to let you know, that is asking him to something akin to letting a bunch of street urchins into a shop of cut glass. With a football.
Right, Rules of the Studio.
If there is a Red Light on outside the door, only enter if you wish to be turned into a pile of ash.
The Control Room is mine. It is my palace, my Fortress of Solitude, my safety, my repose, My Control Room. The clue's in the name. Visitors do not bring drinks, crisps, other mates, unwashed hands or, usually, more than one other person with express permission in there. Think of the green curtain in The Wizard of Oz, only the curtain is charged with 40,000 coulomb of Instant Death.
The Live Room is mine. But you are permitted on special occasions to place your horrid child feet upon my carpet. Again, any bringing in of food, beverages or additional children will result in instant death. You touch the instruments you have been told you may touch. You touch the amplifiers you are permitted to touch for the purposes of plugging one's instruments in. You do not fiddle with the settings.
The microphones are mine. You do not chuck them, drop them, unplug them, shout into them, cup them or in any shape, form or notion bash them whilst saying 'Is this thing on?', lest Death shall follow. The cheapest microphone there is likely to cost £120, going up to around three and a half grand. If it has a fancy cage around it, assume it's a three grander. And if you knacker that, thou shalt die.
One's feet are the greatest danger. LOOK WHERE YOU'RE PUTTING THEM. Standing on a cable is not only annoying when it doesn't work afterwards, it can pull over very expensive gear. And you might even get hurt falling over.
And ask to be taught how to treat cables. It's called 'overworked and underpaid'. Do not wind them into tight little bundles, Celtic Knots, figure eights or leave them strewn over the place. Just ask and do it - it will make you well liked, irrespective of anything else, because no bugger knows how to do them properly.
When Mr B tells you about correct microphone technique, thous shalt obey. If he is enduring your performances, at least have the decency to get close enough to the thing that it doesn't sound like the singer is still on the playground. Oh, an Autotune is useful, but not a flipping miracle worker without around 450 hours of hard work and 30 years of expertise (and that's if Katy Perry's management are paying). If vocal accuracy is going to be a problem, I suggest they redirect towards a Punk aesthetic. And if the singer touches that microphone once or kicks the stand more than three times, they will die.
If something goes wrong whilst playing, keep going. That is the whole point of the place - you can drop a few bars in on a second take. Or third. Or fourth. When it gets to fifth, sixth or seventh, I'd suggest you consider something a little simpler. But if you do make a mistake, do not comment upon it, nor shalt thou swear if you stuff it up on the last note, nor shalt thou immediately it ends, celebrate it. Thou shalt stay quiet until you are informed it is safe to make noise, as losing the perfect fade to 'That was FUCKING AMAZING' is rather annoying.
And get to the point. No chatting. And please remember that the microphones still work when you take off your headphones. This means Mr B will be able to hear every word of your conversation about how x did y and z is going to happen after school.
Oh, and number one rule. The One Rule to Rule Them All.
Studio Time is not Rehearsal Time.
You get the song sorted first. Everybody knows the intro, tempo, where the first comes in, how many repeats before the keychange for the bridge, WHAT THE CHORDS AND WORDS ARE, and how the song ends. You play it repeatedly. You play it until, if awoken from a coma in the dead of night, you could play it.
And then you may approach the Hallowed Ground. Hallowed Ground that is strewn with cunningly concealed mines, ready to detonate if you step even a millimetre out of line.
[Seriously, it's nervewracking seeing lumpen teens thundering around the equipment and cables, but if they act as though they are model children for the first session, they have a good chance of being the rare ones who are allowed back for 'Fun' rather than purely for academic purposes - and all teenage bands sound diabolical at first - that's the point, to get them sounding tolerable before they're unleashed upon the Open Mic and Battle of the Bands circuits.]
We don't deserve OBEs or Sainthood, though. Earplugs and a few cards/cake would be nice, though, as secondary staff don't get them. And have a look for a Music Technician - if there is one, they do the grunt work in keeping everything working, in the right place at the right time, cleaning marker pen letters scrawled over keyboards (JUST LEARN THE NOTES, THERE ARE ONLY SEVEN LETTERS TO REMEMBER) and doing their damnedest to get everybody sounding vaguely acceptable in the school show. You'll know their desk, it will likely be strewn with tools, bits of guitar, keyboard and other such accoutrements and they'll be the constantly moving blur in the background at events, never getting the announcement and applause, never mind flowers or wine, as that'll go to the teachers. Make friends. Bribery. Help clear stuff up. They are the key to doing things when Mr B isn't around.
Nah, we love baby bands. It's why we do it, so kids can do it themselves.
But cards and cake are still a good idea.