"Evil yet welcoming - that’s what I was going for."

We recently had the pleasure of catching up with Will Vaughan for Buso Audio’s Artist Spotlight blog to talk all things music and studio. As a multi-platinum producer, songwriter and the bass player for rock band DeVere, he knows exactly what it takes to turn raw talent into hit records. We discuss his creative process, philosophies, and what it really takes to craft massive tracks without losing that authentic rock edge.

You’ve got a fascinating musical duality. On one hand, you’re playing bass in DeVere - dubbed "London’s Loudest Band" - and on the other, you’re crafting polished, multi-platinum pop hooks for the Jonas Brothers and Marshmello. How do your rock roots influence your pop production, and vice versa? 

I’d say rock is what made me want to pick up an instrument in the first place, whereas pop has taught me how songs actually work. When I’m making pop, I’m very aware of the listener: where their attention is, what they’re feeling, and whether every section is earning its place. That’s made me much more cut-throat as a writer and producer.

Rock lets you indulge yourself a lot more. If a riff is working, sometimes you don’t need to justify it - you just let it go round again because it feels good. At its heart, rock is about live instruments playing together, or at least making the listener believe they are. Even when it’s built piece by piece, you’re still trying to keep that rawness and energy in the record. So they’re constantly feeding each other - pop keeps me focused, and rock reminds me not to over-sanitise the bits that made the idea exciting in the first place. 

Having hit over 2.5 billion streams and snagged a BRIT nomination so early in your career, you’ve clearly found a formula that resonates. When you’re in a room with massive personalities like Lil Wayne or David Guetta, how do you approach the collaborative process to get the best out of the artist? 

It’s still a very strange thing to hear those numbers attached to songs I’ve worked on. I’m incredibly grateful, but I’m also very aware that records at that level are never the work of one person. I’ve been lucky to be around some brilliant artists, writers, producers and teams.

I think one thing people often don’t realise is that a lot of the biggest records don’t necessarily start with everyone sitting in a room together. Songs can take a very long journey before they reach the finish line. Sometimes you’re there from the very first idea, sometimes you’re producing, sometimes you’re writing, and sometimes you’re brought in to contribute one specific piece of the puzzle. Some of my favourite credits have come from a 2am message saying, “Can you do some guitars for this quickly?”, while others started in a room with no clear idea of where they’d end up.

There isn’t really one fixed route into a song. When I’m working directly with artists, I think the most important thing is to understand what role that session needs you to play that day. Some collaborators need space to talk, explore ideas and drive the session themselves; others need somebody constantly throwing ideas at them and keeping the energy up. You have to read the room quickly and adapt to whatever brings the best out of that person. 

As a multi-instrumentalist (guitar, bass, songwriting, production), what is your personal starting point when a new track is being born? Do you usually start with a riff, a lyrical concept, or a beat? 

In a writing session it’s important to find something inspiring fast. We’ll often listen through a bunch of reference tracks or what the artist has been working on lately, then I’ll dive straight in with some starter ideas. The guitar is usually how I get there fastest. Within thirty seconds you know whether something has a feeling or not and if people in the room start singing ideas over it straight away you know you’ve probably got something worth chasing. 

You’ve just put together a brand-new home studio setup in London to host international writers and producers. What was your ultimate vision for this space? What kind of collaborative energy or environment were you trying to cultivate? 

I wanted to create a space that immediately puts people at ease. I wanted it to feel relaxed enough that people could be themselves, but still focused enough that everyone feels like they’re there to make something good. I’ve been lucky enough to spend time in some incredible studios over the years and I found myself borrowing little ideas from all of them. Some of that is practical - the room is set up in a way that everything is ready to record at a moment’s notice, so you’re not constantly stopping to set things up. But the aesthetic side matters a lot too, and I think it can often be overlooked. It’s got to be an inspiring space - I didn’t want it to feel like you’d just walked into someone’s back room. There’s a lot of custom woodwork in the room, which gives it a warmer, more personal feel. Along with the ambient lighting and comfortable furniture, it really helps make the space feel much more inviting.

Having said that, it’s still my space, so naturally there are skulls everywhere. I’d like to think I’ve done it tastefully. Evil yet welcoming - that’s what I was going for. Comfort is important, but you should always feel a little scared. 

A studio’s layout can completely change the vibe of a session. When you’re hosting high-profile, fast-paced collaborations, how do you structure your workflow so that technical friction never gets in the way of a good idea? 

I’m obsessed with problem solving. If something slows a session down once, I’ll usually spend the next few sleepless nights trying to figure out how to make sure it never happens again. One of my first introductions to a writer-focused studio setup was Guy Chambers’ Sleeper Sounds. It had all the best gear in the world and the coolest instruments you could imagine all permanently set up and ready to go, so if inspiration struck you could capture it immediately rather than spending twenty minutes looking for a microphone stand, playing around with mic positions and patching everything in. That really stuck with me. I’ve tried to build that philosophy into this room, albeit on a micro scale. With guitars, I can basically plug into one cable and have a few different routes ready to go instantly - whether it’s just capturing the DI, going through the Quad Cortex, or recording a miked-up cab in the room. It’s all pre-patched, so I just need to hit record on whatever I want. 
Similarly, recording acoustic guitars was always a bit of a drag when it needed to happen quickly, so I mounted a little M201 under the corner of the desk with some treatment around it, and it sounds surprisingly good. Now you can just sit down, grab an acoustic and record, and it gives me a consistent starting point every time.

I’m a catastrophiser by nature, so I try to plan for everything that can go wrong before anyone walks in. Part of that is just normal studio stuff - spares of everything, extra cables, adapters, headphones, all the boring things you only notice when they’re missing. But there’s also the smaller hospitality side of it: making sure people can find the Wi-Fi, charge their phone, make a coffee or grab some water without having to ask. None of that is exciting, but it helps people settle in quicker. Ideas have a surprisingly short shelf life, so the less time people spend troubleshooting boring stuff while they’re trying to write, the better. 




You’ve made our Producer 61 desk the centerpiece of this new room. From a practical, day-to-day producer standpoint, how does having a purpose-built workstation change the physical experience of long, intense tracking and mixing sessions? 

The Producer 61 was really the foundation I designed the entire room around. The layout of the desk means I can keep everything I need within reach without the workspace ever feeling cluttered. For me, if the room feels chaotic, it’s much harder to stay focused. It’s a great size for collaboration too, with enough room for a co-producer to set up alongside me when needed, and in a fairly small room that’s a big deal. Visually, I love how the cherry wood finishes tie in with the rest of the space, but more than anything, it just makes me excited to sit down and work every morning. It just looks badass - it’s a beast. 




Now that the new studio is up and running, it feels like the perfect launchpad for your next chapter. What can you tease about the projects, genres, or collaborations you’ll be cooking up in this room over the coming year? 

Right now I’m working on the DeVere album, which is a lot of fun. I’m producing and mixing the whole record, so it feels like the perfect project to bed in the new studio with, and I’m really excited by how it’s shaping up. I’ve got a couple of other artist projects on the go too, and once the DeVere album is finished I’m looking forward to diving back into more songwriting and production sessions, as well as opening the books for mixing and mastering when the schedule allows.

You’ve achieved the kind of success many bedroom producers dream of. For the songwriters and producers reading this who are currently building out their own creative spaces and trying to find their footing in the industry, what is the most important lesson you’ve learned so far? 

I still feel like I’m on the journey myself, so I’m always careful about sounding like I’ve got everything figured out. I get imposter syndrome like everyone else. But one thing I do believe is that you don’t need your dream setup to start - nobody starts there. Find whatever works for you right now, then bit by bit build a space that solves the problems you keep running into. The important bit is noticing what’s slowing you down or holding you back, then working out how to fix it. That applies whether it’s your studio, your songwriting, your production skills or your career in general. And be open to being useful in ways you didn’t expect. Sometimes the thing that starts working for you might not be what you planned, but if it’s opening doors, go with it and see where it takes you.