Holihan rolls with music changes and finds success in production

Brett Holihan, owner of Startracker Studios, plucked the strings of an upright bass as he spoke.

"I'm no genius, but I'm able to make a living out of writing music and doing arrangements," he said.

He may not consider himself a genius, but his wispy, unkempt hair is reminiscent to that of Einstein and with the current state of the economy, it has to take some brains–or at least a little luck–to keep a music studio afloat.

Startracker studios, located in Holihan's basement in Lincoln, NE, is a mixture of professional recording equipment, instruments and stacks of music. Walls are lined with bookshelves, pictures and check stubs from Virgin Records and Disney (something Holihan displays because he has found they are the best way to show customers his credentials).

"People would just be blown away if they knew what was going on in that studio," said Dick Kinney, a recording engineer intern at Startracker Records. "He's just a perfectionist. He will sit for hours and fix something that you couldn't notice."

A life outside of music was never really an option for Holihan. With a grandmother who was a piano professor for the Conservatory of Music at Madison by the age of 16 and a father who was a member of Swing and Sway with Sammy Kaye, he has been immersed in music for as long as he can remember.

Holihan was invited to play with the high school band when he was in seventh grade and completed his undergraduate degree in music at the University of Wisconsin-Madison. Holihan worked on his Master's at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln but never submitted his thesis.

Instead, he opened Startracker Studios when the printing company he'd been working at went under, and has been working there ever since.

Aside from the temporary job in the printing industry, Holihan has never had to work odd jobs to support his musical lifestyle. In fact, Holihan put himself through college playing in multiple bands, one of which opened for The Monkees' reunion tour in Madison, Wis.

He recalls a time when fans spent their weekends following the band, instead of going to the cinema, when gas was 24 cents a gallon and a $500 gig would help pay the bills. But the price of gas rose, Hollywood started to turn out movies on a regular basis and suddenly, simply playing music for others' enjoyment wasn't enough to pay rent.

"I remember complaining on Wednesday nights when traveling off to get a gig...like ‘Oh God, another gig,'" he said. "Now it's like eat my words, ‘Oh God, I wish there was a gig.'"

While part of a band called Jettin' James, the group was offered a national tour with Speed Weapon and Cheap Trick, But Holihan didn't go. He decided to stay behind and finish his degree.

"I was kind of the apple of the group," he said. "I didn't want to trust my fate to such instability."

He doesn't regret it and in fact, he continues to be in bands today. He currently plays lead trumpet and bass in a group called Imprint.

Holihan attributes his lasting success to mixing his passion for music with the education and business industries. Studios that only record bands don't last, he said. Holihan writes jingles for local companies and pieces for college choirs as well as recording local bands. Holihan also teaches a series of classes at Southeast Community College.

Over the years, Holihan says his composition style has changed drastically. He used to force the music to come from him but now, he allows the music to come to him. Instead of writing out every note, Holihan gathers as much information as possible about a company–which usually includes travelling to the company itself–or choir before he writes.

"Now, it's like I give up that control and I let the piece play in my head," he said.

Holihan has written hundreds of pieces of music, and he can crank out a jingle quickly, but he takes time on his compositions. After all, compositions are music, while jingles are created to sell. But as he looks around, Holihan has begun to discover the selling trend becoming prevalent, even necessary, in today's music community.

"I call it the "Wal-Mart effect,'" he said. "If they can synthesize it and make a million off of it, then the people who are making chairs by hand (and) tables by hand are in trouble."