The continued success of Richard Burgess’ book and the types of changes he has made to it (this is the 4th edition and the extensive re-write marks a move to Oxford University Press as the new publisher) can be seen as indicative of several of the fundamental shifts that are currently occurring in the study of music in universities. There is the long-term rise of popular music as a focus for study. There is the more recent shift in the balance between popular music studies and popular music practice. There is also the more medium term shift in the recognition that recorded music, both in terms of practice and analysis, needs to be studied differently from live music.

The Art of Music Production is clearly intended to straddle both the DIY/self-help market and the higher education vocational course market – indeed, the revisions for this 4th edition seem aimed at making it more appropriate for university courses. This is also reflected in the fact that Burgess has been ‘back to school’ to take a PhD and his engagement with the academic world also includes being an editor for the Art of Record Production journal. At a time when, as Burgess repeatedly emphasises, income streams from music are continuing to decline, it might seem odd that student numbers on vocational courses in and around popular music are on the rise. However, to paraphrase Allan Moore's response on the subject, there are also far fewer jobs as geographers, historians and analysts of English Literature than there are graduates in those areas. The question is whether ‘vocational’ courses provide less in the way of the generic graduate skills than ‘academic’ ones and, of course, whether higher education should be structured to reflect the demands of the job market, the demands of students or of some more abstract ideology.

That said, Burgess is fundamentally concerned with providing career advice. This is despite his repeatedly making the point that there is no job description for the record producer and that the industry is in a constant state of flux so strategies for career development also need to be constantly adjusted. The advice that he provides is in some respects quite simplistic because it is very generalised – and mostly about the psychology of success: work hard, pay attention, make opportunities and grab them, persevere … the familiar litany of self-help. What Burgess does then, though, is to provide a broad range of examples from his exhaustive research and personal experience – this is what Flood says about paying attention, this is what Tony Visconti says about paying attention. The astute reader may pick up a sufficient assortment of contexts so that they can see their own individual avenue for applying these types of lesson. The less astute reader will feel ‘fed’ with knowledge: everybody should be happy …

The key way in which Burgess has adjusted the style and tone of the book for this 4th edition is to divide the book into two sections, the theory and the practice, and to make some of the language less colloquial. This is obviously a tip of the hat towards the academic market but, more importantly, he has, with characteristic meticulous attention to detail, updated the content. However, with 15 pages in the theory section and around 240 pages in the practice section, the book appears to remain firmly in the camp of vocational courses. Does this then mean that a book like this can only be a useful text to students looking for a career in production?

It may not be so obvious, but this book can be seen as a kind of colloquial ethnography: a combination of Burgess’ account of his own career and the extensive knowledge and experience he has garnered about others. The detail in the examples is great, but it also demonstrates his understanding that learning from history is an interpretive art rather than a literal one. Being able to see and feel the connection between the Chess brothers in the 1940s and Dr Luke in the 21st century and to draw practical lessons from his analysis and comparisons demonstrates Burgess's keen intelligence (as well as his attention to detail).

There are several instances, though, when the advice Burgess provides might as well be ‘make a judgement about whether it's better to be A or B and then do it’. Should you make people comfortable or edgy when they are performing in the studio? Well you have to decide what would produce the best performance. Should you keep artists focused on getting the job done or allow them time and space to explore ideas that may turn out to be useless (and expensive)? You have to decide what would produce the best outcome. It might seem that this kind of advice relies on a kind of self-fulfilling prophecy: once you have enough experience to make these kinds of decisions you will make these kinds of decisions well. But, of course, Burgess is making the point that there isn't a single right way of doing the job and that the skills required are all about reading people's characters, reading social situations and even reading the broader cultural zeitgeist. He's also providing a list of the types of questions and judgements that a producer needs to bear in mind.

Given that the overall thrust of this book is about the management skills required to be a producer rather than the technical ones, it is perhaps surprising that one important typology that isn't addressed is the musical philosophy that different producers adopt. Should recorded music be a reflection of live sound or something different? The main typology that Burgess examines in his theoretical section relates to how a producer works with and engages with the artist and the sub-typology relates to the types of skills they bring to the process themselves. A musical philosophy centred typology relates to the value system that a producer holds about different forms of musical creativity. To value performance skills above arrangement or technical skills will shape the approach to recording in a fundamental way – at least as powerfully as whether the working relationship is, for example, consultative or authoritarian.

So how then does all this help us to situate The Art of Music Production within popular music scholarship? Certainly, the migration to terminology such as ‘the auteur’ from ‘Merlin the Magician’ in the descriptors for his producer typology will allow citations from this work to sit better within undergraduate essays on record production. And there is also a wealth of useful examples that can be used to support or critique theoretical ideas about the history of practice in the world of production. And for vocational students seeking an overview of the business of production, there is plenty of material to inspire creative speculation about the potential for new business models and income streams. What Burgess doesn't attempt is what I consider to be the next pressing challenge in music higher education: the building of real and substantial bridges between theory and practice or between the analytical and the vocational. That, of course, is not a criticism but an observation. The Art of Music Production is both astute and detailed and, as a ‘how to’ book, it certainly makes sense as a text for vocational higher education.