In a 2007 interview with Mix magazine on the occasion of his second Grammy Award nomination for Producer of the Year, Howard Benson summed up his often unlikely story with one simple line: “I’m not the kind of person who is not involved.” In a business filled with people who seldom fit into other people’s preconceptions, Benson broke the mold long ago precisely by getting involved with the myriad things that piqued his curiosity. Born in Havertown, Pennsylvania, he pursued twin interests in music and science, studying composition at the Philadelphia College for Performing Arts and also earning a degree in Materials Engineering at Drexel University. His fascination with both fields led him to Los Angeles, where he took a day job at Garrett AiResearch while playing with a band in some of Hollywood’s less glamorous clubs by night. When he decided to bring his parallel lives together as a record producer, Benson put himself on a trajectory that would rocket him swiftly toward the top of his new profession. Since the late Eighties he has produced dozens of albums by some of the most aggressive and inventive acts on the charts, including Daughtry, Kelly Clarkson, My Chemical Romance, P.O.D., Hoobastank, Papa Roach, the All-American Rejects, and Flyleaf. Their albums testify to Benson’s ability to transfer raw energy and passion into performances burnished by his musical sensibilities and creative input. It’s a process that, in his view, isn’t really that different from getting more power out of the engines on a Lockheed C-5 transport or an F-18 fighter. “Without my engineering background, I don’t believe I could do what I do as a producer,” he insists. “First of all, it taught me how to problem-solve. I’m very organized; that comes from doing tons of math and differential equations and stuff like that. And I’d studied so much Fortran and Cobalt in college that when the Mac and Pro-Tools came along in music production, it was almost like a word processing program for me. A lot of bands didn’t want to record with computers back then because they were so used to tape. But tape was actually more limiting; with the computer, you could make the music better and turn out amazing albums.” That’s the key to Benson’s success – his understanding that technology is a means to an end, not a distraction but a tool to unleash the best of what a band has to offer. Here, too, he works from a balance point, drawing from his experience as a musician only to empower the artists to find their own voice. “I always tell my artists that I have nothing at all to say to the youth of America,” he says, laughing. “I’m happily married. I’ve got two nice kids. I live a suburban life – and that’s probably why I never succeeded in a band, because I never had enough issues in my life that I needed to express. I’m just there to serve the band. I try not to put a style of my own on what they do, which is why it’s a compliment when I hear people say that none of the albums I produce sound the same.” An eloquent and often humorous polymath, Benson is able and eager to share his experiences, whether through panels with his peers at music industry conventions or in return visits to Drexel to speak with students. There’s virtually no limit on topics he might tackle, but wherever he begins it is likely that he will find his way through the relevant technologies to discuss what matters most – the heart of the music. “For me, the real thrill in recording is that we’re on the front edge of creativity,” he says. “There’s nobody in front of us, right at that moment, so I think of it as our duty to protect and defend the music that came before us and to make our music as good as we can make it. When you’re doing a three-minute piece of music, that’s a very short amount of time, but the effect of what you do can save somebody. You can literally save people’s lives. That’s why no matter what you do, you’ve got to make it your best work, with all that power you have.”