Sitting inside the wood-paneled control room of Beargrass Studios, Ross Bridgeman pressed his fingers together and wiggled them as he stared off into the middle distance. 

Surrounded by the equipment he uses to fine-tune recordings —speakers, mixing boards, keyboards, preamps, monitors and computers — the 37-year-old Whitefish resident took a few beats as he searched for the words to describe what keeps him engaged in producing music.

"In my experience, it's hard. There's always room to grow," he said finally with a hint of a smile. "I don't think I'll ever master it. I'll never be clocking in at this job." 

Bridgeman is a musician first, primarily a pianist, and he approaches laying down a track from that perspective. To describe the effort, he bounced between metaphors, first comparing his role in the studio to the Christopher Nolan film "Inception" — he works with the sounds within the sounds, he said — before likening the process to summiting a mountain.  

But his work? That's akin to an artist with a canvas, Bridgeman said.  

A performance "is a moment and then it's gone." 

"So the ability to approach music like a painter and work on it — now it exists for all time," he said. "The act of creating something that can then be enjoyed forever is cool." 

To enter Bridgeman's den is to first turn off U.S. 2 onto an otherwise indistinguishable shopping plaza just south of the intersection with Montana 40. The entrance to his studio is one of several nondescript doors lining a metal-clad building behind a paint store. Opening it leads to a short, tight hallway, made narrower on one side by a table boasting, among other things, a coffeemaker.  

The end of the passage opens to a cavernous space with an unnaturally high ceiling. To the left is the vocal booth, and an assortment of panels and instruments are situated to the right. An assembled drum kit is the centerpiece of the main space, which doubles as a rehearsal room for musicians.

Bridgeman's control room is a building within a building, built to look like a squat cabin and separated from the main space by thick walls and a sliding glass door. It's a far cry from the days when he drove his wife crazy as he listened to the same bit of music over and over again in the house, he said.  

Inside the control room, Bridgeman works on tracks, EPs, full albums and audiobooks.  

Typically, a prospective client contacts him looking to get a sense of what they can accomplish in the studio. It can range from recording vocals in the booth to getting a full band together. 

"Most things are possible," Bridgeman said. "I'm stoked to be one of the only options around that can pull it off." 

Some will come armed with a recording and want to put vocals on it, he said. Others build from the ground up.  

"It's amazing to see how different the music experience is for different people," Bridgeman said.  

The second part of his job involves cleaning, editing, mixing and fine-tuning. Why does the guitar sound the way it does, and how can he make it sound better? 

"It's one of the hardest things that I do," he said. "I play in multiple bands and play different types of music, which can be challenging. But the process of listening and working on a mix takes a ton of focus, and sometimes your ears don't work that great. It's a process of training your ears." 

BRIDGEMAN CAN remember standing in the studio clutching a business proposal when the bottom nearly dropped out in 2020.  

He got his start making recordings with a cassette tape machine on his childhood dining room table. By the time Bridgeman hit high school, the technology had grown cheaper and before long he was armed with a laptop loaded with Apple's GarageBand program. Playing coffee shops around that time, he decided he needed an album.  

But he didn't learn how to turn recording music into a business until after graduating from Nashville's Belmont University and heading west to Los Angeles. There, he found an internship with Scott Frankfurt Studio, and his horizons suddenly opened.

The dream was always his own space, but for most of his career he operated out of a third bedroom in his home. 

That changed when Whitefish businessman Dennis Bee, son of Bee Broadcasting's Benny Bee Sr., began building the Sunrise Creek Drive studio in 2019 and approached Bridgeman about helping to run it. They met through a mutual friend, Bridgeman said.  

The idea was that Bee could run the business aspects of the venture while Bridgeman, with the technical know-how, served as the engineer. 

Bee was putting the finishing touches on the studio when his raft capsized on the Flathead River in 2020. The 52-year-old never came out of the water.  

"I was standing in the middle of this room — it's crazy — to discuss a business plan," Bridgeman recalled. "And I get a call from his daughter: They can't find him." 

The studio space sat largely unused for a stretch after that, but with the encouragement of friends, Bridgeman eventually approached Bee's family with a proposal. He became the owner in 2023.  

"It's been a tragedy, but I'm just happy the space is still able to do what it was intended for," Bridgeman said. "Dennis' dream is alive. His kids still come by and see the handywork. I'm blessed, honored and humbled that I can take it and run with it." 

Musicians can drop in, rehearse and record all in one spot, he said as he ran through the artists that have used the space, including Hannah King, Surfbat and the Tobacco River Ramblers. 

That last act counts Bridgeman as a member, "so shameless plug," he admitted freely. 

Launching a business was — and remains — a daunting undertaking, Bridgeman said. But the studio fills a niche in the Flathead Valley, he said.  

"It's nice to live in a place where what you do has value," Bridgeman said. "It's nice to be somewhere where you're actually needed. This valley needs a studio." 

News Editor Derrick Perkins can be reached at 406-758-4430 or [email protected]. If you value local journalism, pledge your support at dailyinterlake.com/support.

    Ross Bridgeman with The Tobacco River Ramblers performs on the Great Northern Stage at Under the Big Sky on Friday, July 17. (Casey Kreider/Daily Inter Lake)
 Casey Kreider