“Monday 5 Things” ….. Control …..
26.09.28 By D. Paul Graham
Because Mondays are easier when you accept that other people didn’t rehearse your version of the day.
“The Control Room”, Inside Capricorn Studios, where Southern rock found its groove and its sound. Photo By D. Paul Graham, Capricorn Studios, Macon GA, 2026.
While attending all things Allman at GABBA Fest, LA and I toured the historic Capricorn Sound Studios in Macon. I got goosebumps standing in the actual studio where the Allman Brothers, Marshall Tucker, Wet Willie, Charlie Daniels, Elvin Bishop, Bonnie Bramlett, Widespread Panic, Cake, and Kenny Chesney, to name but a few, recorded some of their iconic songs and music. All recordings that have that unique Capricorn sound and are better played with volume up. Running my fingers over the organ donated by the Rolling Stones and played by Chuck Leavell, ooohhh so tempted to sit behind the vintage 1960’s drum kit and bang out a few rolls and fills, and imagining my inner rock star singing in the soundproof vocals room, I was mesmerized.
Being somewhat of a control freak, I found myself particularly interested in the control room. A place where sound engineers once had the unenviable job of telling Duane to bring it down a little.
The analog mixing console that is still used today is magnificent. Rows of knobs, faders, switches, and buttons. An entire command center devoted to making things sound better. More guitar. Less bass. Bring up the vocals. Take the drummer down a little before seismologists also record the session.
I also found myself wondering how much better life might sound if a few things came with volume controls. Turn down the unsolicited opinions. Bring up the common sense. Add a little warmth to the family group chat. Mute anyone who begins a sentence with “In my humble opinion”, and surely there would be a setting for removing “reply all.”
Unfortunately, life doesn’t provide that kind of equipment. We get weather we didn’t order, opinions we didn’t request, and people who mistake speaking louder for having a better point.
Yet we keep reaching for the controls. We worry more, explain ourselves again, and mentally rehearse conversations in which the other person finally recognizes our wisdom and apologizes beautifully. Those conversations are remarkably successful when we play both parts.
This morning’s M5T came about as I began thinking about the few controls that actually are within reach and how much better life might sound if we spent more time making those adjustments.
1. CONTROL OUR ATTENTION. Every morning, the world arrives at our doorstep with a clipboard and several hundred things it believes we should be upset about. Our phones deliver most of them before we’ve located our glasses. A headline. A notification. An email marked urgent by someone whose poor planning has apparently become a community project. A stranger on the internet making a claim so spectacularly wrong that correcting it feels like a public service. Before we know it, we have wasted 90 minutes.
Attention is how we spend our lives in installments. We tend to notice when someone wastes our money. We are strangely more accommodating when they walk off with our afternoon.
There is a practical question worth asking before we surrender another piece of our day. “Does this deserve this much of me?” Sometimes it does. A friend needs help. An idea deserves thought. Someone we love is telling a story we have heard before, and listening again is part of loving them. However, the online argument between TurboPatriot76 and EnlightenedAvocado already has two soloists, and neither is listening. It doesn’t need us on backing vocals.
2. CONTROL OUR RESPONSE. The irritating email arrives, and suddenly like a drunken rocker, it kicks open the dressing-room door. He wants more volume, fewer filters, and every grievance given its own solo.
Our first reaction rarely waits for a sound check. The pulse quickens, the fingers get busy, and we begin composing something that feels brilliant, mainly because we are furious. This is a good time to step away from the equipment. Walk around. Get some water. Draft the reply, then leave it unsent until the urge to end it with “Perhaps that clears things up” has passed. We should ask ourselves, “Am I trying to improve the situation, or simply trying to make sure they know how annoyed I am?”
It’s possible to win the next thirty seconds and lose the rest of the afternoon. A moment’s satisfaction can leave us with a strained relationship and six follow-up emails beginning “What I meant to say was…”
Restraint offers less immediate applause than a devastating reply, but it gives us time to decide which part of our reaction deserves to become someone else’s problem. Often, beneath the indignation, there is a reasonable point that would travel much better at a lower volume.
We can still be clear. We can still be firm. We can even be right without making quite so much noise about it. Sometimes, the wisest use of the controls is to leave the microphone off until we have something worth saying.
3. CONTROL OUR STANDARDS. We can’t make everyone appreciate our work. Some people look at a photograph and see light, timing, and a story worth lingering over. Others ask if it comes in blue. We’re hoping to stir the soul, they’ve brought a fabric swatch.
The audience has its own priorities. What remains ours is the care we bring to our work. Preparing properly, checking the details, returning the call, keeping the promise, and taking one more photograph because the light just did something interesting.
Standards matter particularly when nobody is watching. That’s when ‘good enough’ leans over the mixing board and says, “Nobody’s going to hear that anyway.” There’s a balance, of course, but perfectionism can turn a simple task into an archaeological dig. At some point, the document must leave the building, even if a comma still appears to be considering its options.
Still, there is quiet satisfaction in knowing we gave something the full attention it deserved. Applause is lovely, but it has questionable taste and irregular office hours. We need standards that still show up when the audience doesn’t, and enough honesty to know if we played well, even when nobody claps.
4. CONTROL OUR CIRCLE. Most of us have attempted to improve another person through the careful application of advice they didn’t ask for. Results have been mixed, and by “mixed,” I mean they continue doing exactly what they were doing, and now we’re both annoyed.
We have a say in who gets a little of our time and who gets a standing reservation in our heads. It pays to be selective with the backstage passes. Some people leave us curious, encouraged, and ready to try something difficult. Others turn a pleasant lunch into a live recording of their greatest grievances, with bonus tracks arriving before dessert.
Everyone sings the blues now and then. Friendship means staying for the occasional sour note, not just applauding the greatest hits. Most of us should be grateful nobody kept the tapes of our personal early rehearsals.
Still, there is a difference between listening while a friend sings the blues and becoming the house band for their permanent farewell tour. We can care about people without playing every gig. We can decline an invitation without writing liner notes to explain our absence.
We can listen to someone’s opinion without giving them producer credits. At the mixing console of our lives, a surprising number of people have been adjusting the levels simply because we never asked them to take their hands off the board.
5. CONTROL OUR EFFORT. Effort has a terrible publicist. Effort is scales, rehearsals, and playing the difficult passage again while everyone else posts photographs from backstage. “Practiced until I got it right” rarely competes with “Look who I’m standing next to.” It’s a reality that most things worth applauding begin with work nobody would buy a ticket to watch.
Nevertheless, effort remains one of the most useful things we can control. We can make the call. Submit the proposal. Practice the skill. Go out with the camera. Begin the project before we’ve purchased every accessory associated with beginning the project. Preparation has its place. So does recognizing when “research” has become procrastination with reading glasses.
We often wait to feel confident before acting. Confidence, meanwhile, seems to be waiting for evidence that we intend to do something. Someone has to make the first move.
The useful question at the end of the day is whether we made an honest effort with the time, ability, and energy available to us. Some days that effort will be substantial. Other days, life spends our energy before we’ve even had a chance to approve the budget. Give those days their due too. Keep a steady rhythm. You don’t have to finish the entire album in a day.
Back at Capricorn, the appeal of that console was easy to understand. All those controls. All that possibility. But even a room full of equipment has limits. No fader marked “Everyone Will Love This.” No switch to undo yesterday. No button that makes another person behave sensibly, although I would happily invest in the development team.
Meanwhile, a few useful adjustments are still ours to make. Perhaps a little peace arrives when we stop trying to produce, engineer, and personally supervise every sound in the room. Some days, we just need to play our part well and let someone else worry about the drummer.
Here’s to a week of inspired performances, sensible volume levels, and no emails that require an apology tour.
© 2026 D. Paul Graham / imageGRAHAM, llc, All Rights Reserved
Paul continues to sing his own tune and drum to his own beat, much to the concern of qualified musicians.
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