About
Zeynep Şanlı
Classical training, modern production — every recording carries a story.
The Journey
Growing up inside music
My father kept his record collection in the living room cabinet. The bottom shelf was exactly my height. At six years old I put on a Sezen Aksu record, and when the needle skipped a groove I thought it was the most beautiful sound in the world. That scratch is still in my ears — the first time I felt that imperfect sound could be beautiful too.
I almost quit in my second year at Mimar Sinan. Six hours of daily practice, exam pressure, İstanbul’s cost of living — I’d fall asleep on the Kadıköy ferry going home. One night I was sitting in a friend’s home studio in Moda while he mixed something in Logic. I just listened, and I realised: performing was draining me, but in the control room I could breathe. That night I said "I’m doing this." Took me a week to tell my mother.
“Imperfect sound could be beautiful too.”
Now the work changes week to week: an indie band’s EP from Kadıköy one week, a mastering job from an electronic producer in London the next. Last month I mixed a documentary score; before that I cleaned up a jazz pianist’s live recording. Every time I open a new session file, there’s that feeling — "what’s this one going to be?" Sometimes I don’t notice it’s 5 a.m. until the call to prayer starts.
I started teaching because I love it, not for the income. That moment on a student’s face — the second they understand why a diminished seventh resolves the way it does — no finished mix gives me that feeling. I teach seven-year-olds and forty-year-old hobbyists alike. Everyone enters music from a different door; my job is to find that door.
Philosophy
“The listener doesn’t hear EQ settings, they hear the song. I do my best work when nobody notices I did anything.”
There’s a loudness war in this industry where everything gets squeezed and slammed into a limiter. I don’t participate. The breath between notes, the silence, the dynamic range — those aren’t flaws to fix, they’re the music itself.
Sometimes the right move is to do nothing. A vocal comes in with a bit of room tone — you could clean it, but what if that room is the soul of the song? I ask the artist, we listen together, we decide together. Last week a musician said "but isn’t it more professional to clean it up?" I played them the cleaned version — they took it back. Every track has its own rules; my job is to find them, not to impose mine.
The Studio
The Workspace
An acoustic-paneled room with exposed brick walls in Kadıköy. Nothing fancy — but I hear what’s actually there.
Listening
Adam A7V monitors, Beyerdynamic DT 1990 Pro headphones. Two reference points — if it sounds right on both, it’ll work anywhere. I also test in the car, because that’s where people actually listen.
Signal Chain
RME Babyface Pro FS interface, Warm Audio WA-73 preamp. Logic and Reaper for DAWs; FabFilter Pro-Q 3, Goodhertz Vulf Compressor, and Soundtoys for plug-ins. I don’t try to emulate the warmth of the analog preamp in software — I use both together.
The Room
GIK Acoustics panels, corner bass traps, heavy curtains. Flat RT60 above 200 Hz — it’s not a pretty room, but it’s an honest one. What I hear is what the listener hears.