Part 2
Could you take us through a day in your life, from a possible morning routine through to your work? Do you have a fixed schedule? How do music and other aspects of your life feed back into each other - do you separate them or instead try to make them blend seamlessly?
I try to always start my day with some sort of physical movement. For me this sets the tone and pace for the day. This can range between jogging, swimming, skateboarding, yoga or stretching. Meditation and some time for focused listening also weaves into this first time of each day.
After that I usually make breakfast and coffee at home. I work from home and will usually catch up on emails or any specific tasks that need doing that day after that. I spent most of 2018 working on ideas for Lower River, while in the last 6 months or so I’ve pretty much devoted my time to a new Balmorhea album we’re been writing, rehearsing and planning for. I co-manage Balmorhea, as well, so there’s usually some business-y things to attend to most days on that front. I really love keeping up with close friends and meeting interesting people, so I try to plan a break for lunches or an afternoon coffee with a friend or colleague.
My wife and I are set most nights in the routine of having drinks and putting on some nice music on the turntable while we cook dinner. For the most part there is a clear separation in the time allotted for music-related activities and when it’s around 6pm, I clock out, so to speak, for the day.
Could you describe your creative process on the basis of a piece or album that's particularly dear to you, please? Where did the ideas come from, how were they transformed in your mind, what did you start with and how do you refine these beginnings into the finished work of art?
In my new solo record Lower River, all the pieces came from experimenting with tone and palette. It was my first true venture into solo music production. The ideas would stem from tinkering on certain synths or working out specific effects with guitar. On some of the pieces I had a clear feeling or mood I was going for, and along the way via trial-and-error I figured out what voice or voices could convey this the best.
In the end there’s a blend of cello, double bass, voice, manipulated piano and minimal guitar that all weave over a base of drones or pads. I took the material into Estuary Recording Facility in Austin with engineer Michael Landon to oversee the mixing process. We ended up bouncing the music to tape and back to achieve a warmer and more saturated tone. This process and use of Michael’s natural reverb chamber helped finely shape the pieces. The album was mastered with the well-trained ears of Rafael Anton Irisarri at his Black Knoll studio in Upstate NY. I was fortunate to be able to sit-in on the session to speed and fine-tune the process of beautifully finalizing the audio.
There are many descriptions of the ideal state of mind for being creative. What is it like for you? What supports this ideal state of mind and what are distractions? Are there strategies to enter into this state more easily?
Finding a pure place of concentration is key for making clear decisions as well as following the right impulses when creating music for me. Getting totally absorbed in a deeper field of mind was actually the impetus behind the title Lower River — serving as a proverbial space where time, self and filters wane and creative consciousness is at the forefront totally free from impediment. Accessing this place is the tricky part and an exercise I am constantly maneuvering with.
When I travel, especially alone, I can find this place more easily. Part of the ritual of intentional listening also helps me to find this deeper space. In my stretching and meditation I always have purposeful music to help guide me. Lately it’s been a mix of Chuck Johnson, Danny Paul Grody, Kali Malone and Andreas Söderström.
How is playing live and writing music in the studio connected? What do you achieve and draw from each experience personally? How do you see the relationship between improvisation and composition in this regard?
The live iteration of the music is always so much more electric with that aspect of the audience or participant outside of the players present. I really enjoy seeing the subtle differences in what energy exists in certain places or cities. The live counterpart ebbs and flows from night to night depending on the space, people present (or absent) or the technical situation.
Writing in the studio is far more solitary by nature. I like the ability to make and produce a really good recording to represent the intent and feeling of the music to people who may not be able to see a live show. But there’s no replacing the physical interaction of seeing music and feeling the actual air move around you as a result of the sounds being produced.
In my history playing with Balmorhea there isn’t really too too much space for improvisation. Though every tour does yield a sort of ‘tour version’ of a song; where there are intros, interludes or outros that are arranged somewhat on the fly as we move through a tour.
How do you see the relationship between the 'sound' aspects of music and the 'composition' aspects? How do you work with sound and timbre to meet certain production ideas and in which way can certain sounds already take on compositional qualities?
I listen to a lot of minimal music. Most of this listening I curtail to musicians who experiment with tones, textures and atmospheres more than traditional ‘music’ in the broad sense of the word. Especially in regard to finding the ‘lower river’ with deep listening, the presence of too much melody or anything to distract me from fully engaging with the music is only a blockade.
The perfect music to me (as a listener) is one where the atmosphere can marry with very simple song structures that can transport me and/or open a door to specific emotions, memories or fields of thought to explore and become immersed within. I suppose I’m attempting to do this with my own music somehow as well.
Our sense of hearing shares intriguing connections to other senses. From your experience, what are some of the most inspiring overlaps between different senses - and what do they tell us about the way our senses work? What happens to sound at its outermost borders?
The phenomenon of a particular piece of music bringing you back distinctly to a specific time and place of memory is truly fascinating. The subconscious mental tagging associated with sound is so interesting to me. Scent, color, and the memory of a tactile moment can exist so vividly with just a simple arrangement of notes or chords. Highly crucial to this experience in my own music is the use of field recordings. I always try to subtly invoke these (my own auditory memories from travels or certain notable locations) to lay a soft bed for the music to exist upon.
Art can be a purpose in its own right, but it can also directly feed back into everyday life, take on a social and political role and lead to more engagement. Can you describe your approach to art and being an artist?
This is honestly something I don’t think about too much in my daily routines. I’m starkly reminded of my choice and freedom that comes with my path as an artist when I observe friends and family that have chosen a non-artistic path for their work and lives.
I think the most important thing I can offer with my music is to create music that challenges the listener to engage on a deeper level with the music that implores them to look inward. In this place I hope the music can usher someone into feeling a deeper sense of being, importance, or inspiration in someway that benefits the health of their mind and in-turn, life.
It is remarkable, in a way, that we have arrived in the 21st century with the basic concept of music still intact. Do you have a vision of music, an idea of what music could be beyond its current form?
I recently realized that in association with my complete disenchantment of new pop music and the current climate of the industry, that I’ve harkened to older music I’d never fully explored. So in my instance, looking backward to what I haven’t known or missed, rather than forward into what may one day be, is more alluring. I’m currently deeply obsessed with late 50’s and early 60’s jazz and classical recordings - two genres and eras I previously had very minimal knowledge about.
