There are very few people—across all walks of life—who truly make a difference. They’re hard to find, especially in the music industry, which is often clouded by narcissism, self-promotion, and unfounded hype. But Blaise Barton was one of those rare individuals. He made a difference. He was one of the few.
I’ve had the honor of knowing Blaise for decades—not just as a colleague, but as a close personal friend. We shared many years together in the music industry, and his presence was always one of authenticity, warmth, and talent.
I first met Blaise when he was working as a recording engineer at ACME Studios. I was beyond fortunate when he later came over to my studio, Chicago Trax Recording. From the moment he arrived, he brought his magic touch, creating great records with the artists we both worked with. His brilliance as an engineer was undeniable—but even more impressive was the kind of human being he was.
Blaise wasn’t just my friend—he became a friend to many. And all of us who had the privilege of knowing and working with him are better for it.
One day, Blaise called me and asked if I could support his run for president of EARS—the Engineering and Recording Society of Chicago. Hell yeah! It was an intense election, but Blaise won. As I left the building that night, I jokingly said, “Don’t ask me to be your vice president.” The next day, the phone rang—it was Blaise, asking me to be his vice president. Of course, I agreed. How could anyone say no to this man?
Blaise went on to choose an exceptional cabinet of officers, and with this outstanding group and his inspiring leadership, he took EARS to heights it had never seen since its inception. That was Blaise—always reaching for the stars and grabbing them.
I am proud to have called Blaise my good personal friend. He was family, and he will always be missed by me and by all the others who knew him. Rest in peace, my friend.