Attila Mobile Studio photo.
Audio By Carbonatix
“I’m here to remind you to release those f–king songs,” Attila Mendez says, making his impassioned plea directly into the camera. “I know, it’s easier said than done. But, how long have those songs been on your hard drive, or just in your head, or on your phone? Please, don’t let another year go by without sharing your unique voice as an artist with the world.”
Mendez isn’t just another wannabe influencer, however, dropping motivational bon mots for clicks before disappearing into the digital ether. No, with his Attila Mobile Studio, the French singer-songwriter and producer is making it easier than ever for artists to make unique, innovative, and — above all — authentic recordings of their art.
And when Mendez says he is mobile…dude is really mobile. Last year alone, he has recorded in an airshaft in Barcelona, on the beach, at a puppeteer’s loft in Maine, a North Miami Playground, a Little Havana backyard, a gutted Miami Beach apartment, a garden in Miami for a luminescent last-minute Tiny Desk submission by Pazyflora, and his own backyard.
“I don’t want my recordings to sound like they could be done just anywhere in the world,” Mendez tells New Times. “As a producer, I’ve come to realize chemistry isn’t just about myself and the artist — it’s about the environment, too. I am always trying to be sensitive to the fact that how we adapt to and create spaces leaves an imprint on a recording, whether the listener consciously recognizes it or not. And you want that to be something that enhances and raises a recording up, not the opposite.”
Necessity truly was the mother of invention for Mendez: An artist himself, he started experimenting with GarageBand recording app more than two decades ago. During the pandemic, Mendez, seeking to hone his skills, hired Audio Nomad author Adrian Parzentny — who Mendez and his world music band Bondeko had previously flown from Portland, Maine to Albania to cut an album with — to give him lessons in how to record, mix, and master. Along the way, he was inspired by Parzentny’s global work, which, as the bio for Audio Nomad notes, “brought professional recording to refugee camps and remote regions, proving music knows no limits.”
It was an ethos and methodology that resonated with Mendez: “There are so many amazing artists who go to a traditional studio where the prices per hour are just insane, and they’re intimidated or rushed or both, and they just end up feeling defeated,” he says. “They might get a technically good recording, but not one that reflects their art or their soul. Part of what I’m trying to do is fight against this kind of perfectionism in music. Because, to me, it doesn’t matter if you’re talking about hip-hop or pop or world music, perfection isn’t what moves people, it’s authenticity — it’s the parts that have a bit of an edge to them; a bit of urgency or vulnerability.”
And by placing the focus on quote-unquote “realness” and removing the wasted energy of chasing an unattainable perfection, Mendez is better able to help clients overcome creativity-killing bouts of self-doubt or imposter syndrome. “Probably eighty percent of my job is coaching,” he says, “and I love that part of it.”
Miami was supposed to be more of a way station than a permanent home — the plan had been to move from Maine to New York. During a few months’ layover staying in North Miami with his partner’s mother, however, Mendez began to hit the open mic circuit — especially at Thank You, Miami Cocina & Beerhouse, whose stellar, soulful open mic host Trikstah is now a recording client — and something clicked for him in a new way. “I don’t like being constrained to specific genres or labels, and so many scenes are like, ‘Okay, you play indie rock, but what kind of indie rock do you play?’” Mendez, who also records clients in a home studio, says. “One of the things I love about Miami is that the scene and music here is so diverse yet also connected. It’s more about the vibe and quality of what you’re doing than it is about putting a label on it. Once I was exposed to everything Miami has to offer, I was like, ‘Done.’”
It’s been a year, and he’s busier with a slate of projects than he could have imagined. “I couldn’t be happier about it,” he says, adding that working with other artists has reinvigorated his own musical journey. “I held off on this career path for a long time because I felt like, ‘Oh, I’m an artist. If I serve others, am I forgetting about my own art?’ I was so wrong. I get so inspired by the artists I work with. I learn so much. I can’t wait to see where it all leads.”
