Across nearly 500 films, Kitchens, a lifelong sound recordist, has shaped how audiences feel without ever demanding their attention. When sound is done right, he believes, it does not announce itself. It vanishes into story.
His philosophy has earned rare recognition. Kitchens and his colleagues at Juniper Post have received multiple industry honors, most notably an Emmy Award for Outstanding Sound Editing for James Cameron’s Expedition: Bismarck. The 2002 documentary required reconstructing an acoustic world two miles beneath the North Atlantic—metal under pressure, water in motion, machinery operating where no human ear could survive. During playback, the internationally renowned Cameron removed one earcup of his headphones, turned to Kitchens, and said simply: “This is the best sounding thing I’ve worked on.”
The moment was the product of a sensibility shaped long before supervising sound teams or running his Los Angeles-based postproduction company. Because, before he was a sound recordist, Kitchens was a musician. Born and raised in Texas, he first took up the trumpet, then became the lead singer of an LA rock band shortly after arriving in the city with little more than $600, a credit card and conviction. If music taught him emotional communication, his later work in sound refined it into craft—an awareness of how tone, pacing and placement influence what an audience feels.
Threaded through that evolution is another constant: Scientology. Kitchens describes with specificity the role its principles have played in his life—as a performer overcoming stage nerves, as a craftsman learning how communication actually works, and as a business leader navigating burnout, growth and responsibility. Over the course of our conversation, he repeatedly returns to ideas drawn from Scientology training: the importance of defining terms carefully, ensuring mutual understanding and applying practical tools to actually improve conditions rather than simply endure them.
That structured approach coexists with an almost boyish curiosity. Kitchens’ wife, Stacy, once described him as having a “childlike excitement about sound,” a phrase echoed by colleagues who have watched him lug microphones into his own home to capture the squeak of a door or the crash of a flower pot. It’s not novelty Kitchens seeks, but fidelity—the right sound, placed precisely, in service of a story.
Here, Kitchens reflects on leadership, mentorship, technology, faith and the long arc of sustaining creative momentum. It’s a portrait of a man who listens carefully, builds patiently and measures sonic success not by volume but by immersion—how completely an audience is drawn into a story without ever noticing the sound doing the work.
Is there a morning ritual you never skip, even when you’re slammed with deadlines?
I always take my vitamins—no matter what. I maybe miss them once or twice a year.
Before you’re supervising sound for the world, do you like to orient yourself mentally at the start of the day?
This is actually a pretty big question. I use the various administrative tools I’ve learned in Scientology. These tools help me keep my goals and purposes aligned and keep track of my company’s production. For example, I use statistics to monitor production and, based on those statistics, I apply the appropriate formula from the Condition Formulas laid out by L. Ron Hubbard. Each formula gives the exact sequence of steps I need to take to bring about stability and expansion in my business.
Because I wear so many hats in my company, I open a pad of paper, divide it into the different hats I wear, and write down a plan, based on the steps of the appropriate formula, for what needs to get done for the day. I follow up with my sound editing and mixing team. As a matter of fact, we have a virtual meeting (muster, if you will) to go over the day’s and week’s targets, and we find out who needs help and get everyone’s questions answered. Currently, I have crew in various US states working remotely with stiff deadlines, so staying in coordination is key.
When you meet someone new, how do you explain your job without losing them in jargon?
One of the key things I learned about communication in Scientology is never to go past a word or symbol you don’t fully comprehend. So when I’m explaining what I do, I keep the language simple and make sure we’re talking about the same thing—using the same definitions—before going further.
Any field has its nomenclature, especially a technical field like audio postproduction for film and television. Clients and even veteran sound editors and mixers appreciate us making sure we clarify what we’re referring to. There are so many terms in the industry, it’s crucial that you don’t assume.
What’s a sound most people take for granted, but you find endlessly fascinating?
That’s hard. There’s such a mass quantity of sound. I’m like the guy who, when asked his favorite food, says, “I don’t like jalapeños because they burn my mouth, and I don’t care for liver—but I like pretty much everything else.” But to answer your question, I really like just about any sound that is an actual representation of the item itself. Something as simple as someone walking on cement or in the snow, when recorded correctly, can create emotional impact for the audience.
After nearly 500 films, what still excites you?
The people and the story—especially first-time filmmakers with something real to say. I’m working with some first-time filmmakers right now, and they are so enthusiastic about what they are doing. I think it is important to keep that enthusiasm in our industry and make films that inspire others to be successful. If I can help a filmmaker take his career to the next level, that is very exciting.
What kind of stories drive you most?
Ones with genuine surprise that is unexpected but not random—like The Matrix. Or films that inspire, like Forrest Gump. There are so many great films. Or even films that are just fun and cheer people up, like Back to the Future. The world needs more inspiration and cheer.
When James Cameron said Bismarck was the best-sounding film he’d worked on—did that moment sink in immediately or did it take you a while?
Oh, no, it was instant! When Jim gave us an acknowledgment, we didn’t take it lightly as he is known for being one of the most demanding professionals in the industry.
How did you start playing the trumpet?
I wanted to play football—I grew up in Texas, where every kid thinks they’re going to be a football player. But my dad said, “No, you’re too accident-prone for that. You’re going to be in the school band.” So I picked up the trumpet and was able to make a sound right away, which I’ve been told isn’t easy for most people. It was really my high school band director who steered me toward the trumpet. I wanted to play the drums but I think my dad gave the director a secret handshake—“Please don’t let my son play drums.” Ha-ha!
Do you miss performing on stage, or has sound supervision become its own performance?
I like performing. But if you don’t do it all the time, you get rusty. I wouldn’t jump up and sing without practice. Interestingly, I really enjoy it when I put my attention on the audience—onto you. And I do enjoy performing music. I also enjoy running my audio postproduction company. I’ve been asked to sing many times over the years and I’ve not taken up the offer to do so, because I want to get my chops back up. Someday, I’m sure I’ll perform again.
You moved to Los Angeles with $600, a credit card and no electricity. Did you feel brave—or desperate?
I was thinking, “What the hell am I doing?” But I also felt it would work out. Within a short time, I was singing in a band and hanging out with celebrities. I’ve always believed if you work hard, you can make something happen. But once I started studying Scientology principles, specifically the book Scientology: The Fundamentals of Thought, I quickly got tools to handle life that gave me real results.
What keeps you from walking away when things get uncertain?
I learned tools in Scientology that apply to anything you’re trying to resolve. If I didn’t know how to do something, there was always a book I could read or a course I could take. The most certainty one needs is certainty in oneself, and that’s what Scientology helped me with.
You’ve said your first Scientology course in communication was pivotal. What changed?
I became aware of what communication truly is. The most senior aspect of communication is the ability to be fully present. You cannot effectively communicate with someone about their film while your attention is on what you’ll be doing later that day. Imagine being in a conversation and telling yourself, “Be present” or “Listen to what’s being said.” In that very moment, you are not present—you’re divided. True communication requires undivided attention. It sounds obvious, but once I completed the communication course in Scientology, I realized that communication is a skill that must be practiced. There is a precise formula that allows for real understanding between people.
Because we all speak to one another daily, it’s easy to assume communication is happening. Sometimes it is—but often it’s simply “conversation” without true exchange or an accurate understanding of ideas. When an important issue is misunderstood, the consequences can be significant: a missed deadline, a damaged relationship or a lost client. I’ve always known communication was important, but it was the communication course in Scientology where I found out for the first time what the formula for communication actually is—and that it’s a skill I can continually refine and improve.
What was the hardest lesson in becoming a leader?
You can’t be best buddies with everyone and still get the job done. I’m not saying that your staff can’t be your friends. I only work with people who are trustworthy and I’d consider a friend. But my responsibility is to be efficient and deliver a high-quality product on budget and on time, and sometimes that means I have to give stiff targets that require long hours and hard work. In the end, the team is award-winning and proud.
What do you look for in someone you mentor?
Respect, curiosity, initiative—someone who doesn’t just wait for orders. It’s important for the person to be upbeat and really have a strong interest in the field.
When “sound design” is done right, what should the audience feel—even if they can’t articulate it?
It depends on what you mean by sound design. It’s one of the most misunderstood terms in my industry. Some people define it as everything that happens with sound after a movie is shot and edited. Another definition is building a sound that doesn’t exist, like a creature or a spaceship—something that will require some inventing. And yet another is sound that isn’t tied to a specific action, but causes the audience to feel something emotionally. When it’s working at that level, the audience should simply feel drawn into the story, without being aware of why.
Your wife says you have a “childlike excitement about sound.” Fair?
I think that’s how everyone should experience joy. When I’m recording myself breaking and smashing things, or if I’m just sitting in the back of a truck getting a good recording of all the rattling sounds going down the road, it really is just having fun. That’s what I think she’s referring to.
How do you unwind when your ears are saturated?
I walk. I don’t look at my phone. I look at trees, cars and admire things.
What do you want more of in the next chapter of your life?
Helping people, traveling more, meeting new people along the way.
What advice would you give someone whose dream feels out of reach?
Dreams require realistic gradients and a clear plan. Find a trustworthy mentor, support them, learn from them. They’ve already traveled this road and they can help you avoid taking the same path alone. For me, The Fundamentals of Thought changed my life. It helped me keep my dreams alive.
