Jason Powers (right) of Type Foundry Studio and musician Eric John Kaiser help students from the French American International School record songs they've written.

　
Technology affords flexibility when it comes to small recording studios. Jackpot Recording Studio manager Kendra Lynn, in the live room where musicians play, says all that rappers need to get started is a good vocal microphone, as beats are easily produced with computer software. Lifesavas recorded its acclaimed album "Gutterfly" in its garage-based studio, The Promiseland.

Jackpot, founded in 1997, is one of Portland's busiest commercial studios, and the space is often booked a couple of months in advance in spite of the recession. On this Saturday, Lynn isn't working, which is rare — weekends are convenient for artists working day jobs.
Jackpot caters to both up-and-coming and established bands — R.E.M. and Sonic Youth have recorded there during recent tour stops in Portland.
Yet while Jackpot's stature is rare for Portland, it has much in common with smaller studios.
These studios welcome outsiders while stoking the collaborative intimacy that fuels Portland's artistic community. They eschew the limelight, hiding underground despite sonically archiving the pluckings and croonings of rock stars. And they pit form against function, housing commercial operations and a hodgepodge of accumulated equipment in makeshift living rooms and basements.
Lynn has been an engineer at Jackpot for five years and now oversees day-to-day operations. "It feels like my baby," she says.
The same is true for a generation of local engineers. They've given birth to studios, raised them through lean times within their own homes and kept them connected to their indie Portland roots.
　
Those roots are what drew Jason Powers to Portland.
After graduating from college in Olympia, Powers followed a stream of friends to Portland in 2000. He had taken audio engineering courses, but he wasn't making a career decision.
Powers suspects that Seattle's recording scene was, and still is, economically stronger. But Portland boasted a low-key, sustainable vibe that appealed to Powers.
For now, he's one of the four engineer-partners at Type Foundry Recording in North Portland. Founded in 1998, the business has matured slowly.
Powers says Type Foundry began much like any other do-it-yourself Portland studio. "Originally we all brought our own gear to the table," he says.
That's changed. "We're actually doing well enough that we don't have to pay out of our pockets for gear for the studio."
　
Type Foundry owes that profitability to a wide range of local and national bands. Its active recording space has hosted sessions by artists such as She & Him, the Gossip and the Decemberists.
Chris Funk, a guitarist and multi-instrumentalist with the Decemberists, says the group has recorded at Type Foundry and Jackpot.
But Funk says that Portland's recording scene is also characterized by the recent proliferation of band-built basement studios and the arrival of noted engineers such as Tucker Martine and Death Cab for Cutie's Chris Walla.

Funk says those big names and little studios have democratized the Portland recording scene in a way that many bands find appealing. "They say, 'Oh wow, I can work with some proven engineers who I can see at the grocery store?'" he says.
Martine, who runs Flora Studios out of his home near the Alberta Arts District, agrees. "It's very much about the culture of everyone recording themselves," he says.
Funk points to indie heavyweights the Shins. They long ago adopted a do-it-yourself ethos — Funk says they recorded their first album on pirated software in 2000-01 — and recorded their last album in frontman James Mercer's Portland home.
When it comes to picking a studio, Funk says, bands judge on one criterion. "If you're talking to musicians, it's always who has the best burrito cart next to the studio," he says.
The ease of establishing studios is a windfall for local labels such as Curtis Knapp's Marriage Records. Knapp built a full-blown studio this year with recording equipment the label had accumulated and used in a makeshift space.
Earlier this year, Dirty Projectors frontman Dave Longstreth recorded parts of the indie band's acclaimed LP Bitte Orca at Marriage. Knapp, who says the new space has turned Marriage into a "clubhouse" for bands, contributed guidance and finger-snapping to the album.
　
Many say the recession has yet to reach local studios, due partly to cheaper recording and merchandising options.
"Since there are so many digital opportunities and that's cutting back so much on manufacturing costs, it's possible for people with nothing to release music and have great profit margins," Knapp says.

Martine works in his Northeast Portland basement recording studio, Flora. He's preparing a track by the Decemberists called "The Great Outdoors" for a children's show.

Another boon to studios during this bad economy has been, well, the bad economy.
"There are a lot of people getting laid off from their jobs who are getting a chance to pursue artistic endeavors," says Jim Brunberg of Mississippi Studios in North Portland.
Plus, Portland is still considered more affordable than other West Coast artistic havens such as Seattle or San Francisco.
John Vanderslice, a singer-songwriter whose studio Tiny Telephone is based in the Bay Area, says the recession and expensive real estate haven't helped studios there.
"It may come back, but demand is definitely fluttering," he says.
Vanderslice says that if he were to relocate, it would be to Portland and its bevy of studios. He names Jackpot and Type Foundry, saying, "All these places are almost international brands."
　
Bladen County Records' Matt Brown says he moved to Portland because "I'm a cheap-big-house-with-a-dark-basement kind of guy." His roommate, Mike Anzalone, runs Studio 1414 out of their house in Southeast Portland.
But though the local scene nourishes mainstays, making money is tough for newcomers.
"Running an indie business is harder than it's ever been," Brown says. He and his partner have side jobs to keep Bladen County alive.
In the meantime, Brown extols the virtues of local engineers.

"The right engineer really provides more than just a color to an album," he says. "Their personality comes through as well."

--Jake Cohen; mailto:jakecohen@news.oregonian.com