Sunday at the El Conquistador felt like…a Sunday. But not in a bad way.

By the time the evening panel rolled around, the crowd had thinned and mellowed a bit. The topic was “Records that Made Me Want to Record” and included quintessential post punk/indie rock producer Steve Albini and Barsuk Records’ artist John Vanderslice (who also created the Tiny Telephone Studios, an infamous analog studio in San Francisco), and yes, he would be the very same John Vanderslice who had performed pool-side the night before.

The idea was for each panelist to talk about and play the song that had inspired them to go into the recording business. And here they are, along with their respective inspirational songs.

1. Ross Hogarth is a producer and engineer whose discography is all over the place. I mean, the man has worked with Ziggy Marley, Ratt, Mandy Moore, Lyle Lovett, Melissa Etheridge, Motley Crue, Clay Aiken and Tucson’s very own Ryanhood, just to name a few. The thought of working with Motley Crue one day and Clay Aiken the next is pretty hilarious, one must admit. I would have loved to have heard some horror stories from him, but unfortunately my poor ears were assaulted by the likes of Jeff Beck. It’s obvious that Beck can play, but as you may have heard before, my wank threshold is very low, so I tried to tune the whole thing out and concentrate on sketching my twitching boot. ‘Twas a masterpiece – the boot, not the song.

2. You may know Larry Crane as the TapeOp head honcho and former member of a band called Vomit Launch (he swears they weren’t as shocking as they sound like they would be) shared with us the gorgeous, sunny day melodic indie rock of East River Pipe. The band is essentially one man, FM Cornof, a Merge Records artist who was saved from a homeless, alcoholic life by music and a girl named Barbara. Lovely.

3. John Vanderslice admitted to having an affinity for prog and Yes, so I expected the speakers to spew forth “Owner of a Lonely Heart” or the “Gates of Delirium,” but Vanderslice instead steered towards the prog elements in the earlier work of David Bowie. He played “Sound and Vision,” the Brian Eno produced, chorus free, but easily recognizable hip shaker. Very nice.

4. Steve Albini referred to the gathering of producers and engineers as a “kinship of geeks,” while he verbally laid the foundation for discussing 1920s gospel/blues artist Washington Phillips. His discussion got so passionate, it began to sound like he was arguing and, in fact, did almost jump down moderator Mark Rubel’s throat when he made a comment that Albini didn’t agree with. Albini was so passionate about the topic that he could barely keep up with his own words, but had a moment of modesty when he asked the audience if he was making any sense. It was oddly endearing, though.

To him, he explained, recording was significant because it was about recording history and it gave the listener the desire for “a communion with the people you’re listening to.”

And then he slapped Rubel on the cheek with a black velvet glove.

5. George Massenburg is an electrical engineer, inventor and producer, who has James Taylor, the Dixie Chicks, Linda Ronstadt and Lyle Lovett on his resume. He played a whimsical instrumental and then reminisced about the ‘60s “era of great radio” and the black music he grew up listening to. As a youngster, he was struck by the sound of “raw sex pouring out of the radio” (yeah, everyone else sat up a little straighter after that statement, too) and was taken by performers such as King Curtis.

“Raw sex pouring out of the radio” was deemed the quote of the evening up until that point (by me, anyway) out of many, many great quotes. Yeah.

6. When TapeOpCon publicist and resident DJ Carl Hanni slipped out early to set up his turntables, he whispered, “Let me know who Fisk plays.” I nodded, not understanding. But when I heard the cacophony of sound that was unleashed on the unsuspecting crowd, I completely understood why Steve Fisk’s choices were worth noting. Fisk is a K Records and SubPop kind of guy who has worked with Unwound (oh yeah), Calvin Johnson, Screaming Trees Negativland…and some band called Nirvana. And his music selection?

Have you ever heard those weird compilations of songs and noises that they give students in “Music 101” in universities? This was one of those, hailing from Columbia-Princeton, I believe. It started out with a rambling, excruciatingly high pitch, warbling dog whistle that gave way to random found object percussion and what sounded like drunken babbling. It was very German Expressionistic – very Sprockets.

Fisk offered by way of explanation that “this is what the Beatles were catching up to” in their more experimental moments and that he likes music “that asks questions that can’t be answered.”

Well, that answers my question.

7. Moderator Mark Rubel, producer for the Poster Children and Alison Krause, described the “spiritual connection that (the members) had between them” that came through in The Band’s recordings. He continued to wax mystical saying that creating music “transcends space and time.”

But the best part was at the conclusion when much to everyone’s surprise, Rubel dialed the phone that was linked to the room’s PA system. After several rings, the one and only Les Paul answered the phone…or rather his wife did. We figured this out after the room of a few hundred finished singing “Happy Birthday” to her. That’s right, the TapeOpCon called Les Paul, jazz musician and inventor of one of the best guitars ever made, the Gibson Les Paul. It was his 97th birthday.

After much confusing “hellos?” and feedback, Paul’s wife fetched him and his voice finally crackled through the speakers, “Hello? (long pause) Hello?”

Rubel told him that he and the TapeOpConners were calling to wish him a happy birthday.

And then, to a room full of sonic perfectionists, Les Paul uttered a sentence that beat Massenburg’s hands down.

“It’s not very loud.”

The room erupted with laughter.

I was still giggling while relaxing in a lounge chair by the El Conquistador pool while DJ Carl Hanni spun some of his favorite vinyl.

The debacle was like having the lights go out at an electrician’s convention. But at least the recording types could laugh about it.

It must be the “geek camaraderie.”