In fact, I would have thought I had the address wrong if it hadn’t been for the “For Sale” sign adorning the building. The placard might even signal the end of the studio, known as Belgium’s answer to Abbey Road. It used to be a theatre for an amateur company until, in 1942, it was turned into a recording studio. Renowned music engineer Staf Verbeeck, present owner of Jet Studio, is my guide.

In 1942, Jet started as the Belgian home studio of the famous record label Decca. “Their artists came to record here, Belgian musicians like Jo Leemans and The Strangers, but also French singers like Édith Piaf. And even The Rolling Stones!” he says.

But don’t rush to check the liner notes of your Stones albums. Verbeeck: “It wasn’t an official recording. They happened to be in Brussels when they wanted to record a birthday present for one of the members – I think Bill Wyman.” And since the Stones were Decca artists, they ended up at Jet.

It was probably on Sunday, 18 October, 1964, the day they landed in Brussels to perform on the popular music TV show Tienerklanken (Teen Sounds). But at Jet Studio, there are no traces left of the passage of Jagger & Co. “In the early 1970s, Decca went bankrupt, and we have nothing left from before,” sighs Verbeeck. “The archive as well as the vintage recording equipment, everything has been sold.”

The Jet cellar, though, is well stocked with recordings from the period after that bankruptcy – though, thanks to technology, not from the last few years “Nowadays at the end of a session, the recordings are transferred to the artist’s hard disk,” explains Verbeeck. “We keep the recordings for a while, too, but at one point we have to make space on our hard disks, so we erase it. But in the old days, we recorded on big analogue tapes. Musicians had no use for that at home, so we stocked them.”

In the days after the Decca bankruptcy, Jet still saw big names crossing its threshold: Shirley Bassey, who recorded a duet with Alain Delon; French singer and actor Charles Trenet; and, of course, the fine fleur of Belgian rock and chanson, from Raymond van het Groenewoud and De Kreuners to K’s Choice.

“For some time”, Verbeeck remembers vividly, “the music channel TMF recorded its live sessions here, with bands like The Manic Street Preachers and Zita Swoon, who even released Live at the Jet Studio.”

So…what makes Jet Studio so unique? “I’ve been told by older musicians that during the first decades, Jet didn’t have exceptional acoustics,” admits Verbeeck. “But at the beginning of the 1970s, a German guy altered the recording room and gave the place its singular sound. Honestly, I think some luck was involved.”

So, acoustics is not really an exact science, then? “It is, if you’re constructing a new building,” explains Verbeeck. “If you’re altering an existing one, you need a shot of luck. In this case, the luck can probably be defined as the dimensions of the room.”

After the bankruptcy of the 1970s, singer Salvatore Adamo, Belgium’s commercially most successful artist worldwide, bought Jet Studio. It changed hands once more, and, in 1997, Verbeeck became co-owner. At that moment he was already a well-established freelance recording and mixing engineer. Three years later, his partner, a financial group, went bankrupt. “I had no choice but to buy them out”, he reveals. “If not, I would have been part of the crash. So I got a heavy loan, but running the studio has been tough ever since.”

The last years have been particularly difficult since the occupancy rate dropped steeply. Verbeeck tried to attract clients by lowering the day price from €550 to €350. “Our occupancy rate went up again to almost 80 %, a very good figure. But at €350 a day, to break even we needed a full house almost constantly.”

What happened?

Verbeeck points out two reasons why the studio isn’t profitable anymore. “First, the technological evolution. With a limited investment of a few thousand euros, you can build a home studio. Consequently, fewer and fewer bands are willing to record in a professional studio. Or they hire it for a day, for instance, to record the drums, which is difficult to do at home.”

And of course the second reason is what is hitting the music industry everywhere: downloads. “That turned music almost into a disposable thing,” says Verbeeck. “So people don’t want to spend too much money on it anymore, and the record companies have less money to spend. Consequently, they almost don’t invest in local talent anymore unless it springs from a television show like Idol.”

Half a million euro, that’s the price for the whole building, minus the recording equipment. The huge recording studio itself, where the theatre used to be, lies at the back of the premises. It’s linked to a big house that borders the street and contains a second, smaller studio, a kitchen, an office, some rooms to lodge artists and a little flat.

Although Jet is in Koekelberg – not a highpriced area of Brussels – half a million still sounds like a bargain. “It’s been estimated at a lot higher, but since nobody took the bait, I had no choice but to lower the price,” Verbeeck concedes.

Indeed, time is ticking. “It has to be sold by the fall,” he shares. “If not, I’ll be ruined.” He really hopes to find a buyer who would keep the studio intact. But he’s reached the point that’s he’s willing to sell to a real estate developer.

But Verbeeck is realistic. If he can’t keep Jet commercially alive, how could someone else? “Ideally, I think, the buyer would be a musician who comes to live here and uses it as his own private studio. We had someone who was very interested, but the deal collapsed because he has a young child, and his girlfriend didn’t see them living in this neighbourhood.”

If worse comes to worst, Verbeeck will never see the inside of Jet again. “Of course, if the studio would be maintained, I’d love to keep working here as a freelance engineer.” But he concludes with a sigh: “It’s not in my hands anymore.”

www.jetstudio.com