As an undergraduate student, I rented a CD from the library that was Vijay Iyer’s solo album titled “Solo.” I forgot to bring the CD back and accumulated a massive late fee on it. Unfortunately, I never found the album, and I continued accumulating late fees, partially because of my forgetfulness, and partially because I didn’t understand the logistics involved in wiping away my debt to the library. Eventually, I felt obligated to pay the late fee to clear my name from the ‘most-wanted’ list that surely the library keeps on all its delinquent constituents—surely, my photo was one of many pinned in the back room, interconnected by many threads, and held on by a thumbtack initially, then darts thrown by determined librarians who were keen to pin me down. Despite my lateness, I never actually listened to Vijay’s record.
Is there an artist that you’ve ‘checked out’ but haven’t yet had a chance to actually listen to? Are you paying any debt or price for delaying that listen?
I’ll say it’s Anthony Braxton. I’ve listened to his works before, but as he is such an important visionary composer with huge amounts of works, I feel it’s not nearly enough. Couple weeks ago I happened to see his Ghost Trance Music performed at Roulette and was stunned by the composition. I started to study some of his scores and recordings and find resources online. This has been very inspiring to step into his extremely creative universe.
Your latest record, “OVER the MOONs,” is a fantastic listen. I’ve been itching to experience modern jazz that’s inventive but also bold in its sound and ideas. I hear all sorts of influences—obviously jazz, funk, experimental electronic, rock, and metal. The performances feel live and conversational, but rapid-fire, which warrants many repeated listens to fully appreciate. I’m curious about the process behind the record, especially given how chaotic some songs become. I’m reminded of a record by Anna(?) involving several musicians who emphasize their sung note on a different beat of a phrase: each singer is generally misaligned, but eventually, they all coalesce to emphasize the same note within the phrase. Your band appears to play at its own speed and path, diverging into little pockets until, almost unexpectedly, they convene on the same note!
How do you plan around the desire to allow other musicians to remain spontaneous but have everything circle back to accentuate the same note? How is that coordinated? Was there variation track by track in the approach to composition? Who signals to whom during the performances?
I’m always very fond of things shifting out of balance while there are some kinds of grips existing in the compositions that function as the norm. I think the musicians I chose they deeply understand this concept so I usually trust their instincts to go as far. We just find each other back at some point in the pool. Playing this music live was definitely a big help to develop this material. So we know what’s the energy level we can reach and explore. In the recording session, there were probably average two takes for each song. Most of the time I conducted between sections and sometimes it would be the horn players.
You experiment with song structures and performance styles, but this is your first record that fuses experimental electronics with jazz compositions, which were brought in by Shinya Lin. The electronics are as fiery as the other performances and have a live feel to their play style, as if he’s conducting the music directly alongside everybody else during the performance (perhaps he did). I’m impressed by the push and pull the mix has with the electronics—there’s a nice balance where they are apparent enough to demand focus but not pull too much attention away from the other instrumentation in it. I see the electronic experimentation as one of the other ‘MOONs’ on the record, or the other side of your consciousness that’s pushing and pulling against the other side of your brain—different, but almost bringing out a more interesting whole as they push and challenge each other in a competition to communicate themselves better.
How did you meet, and what inspired you to include him specifically among the other performers?
During my graduate school years in Taiwan, I studied MAX/MSP and tapped into the field of experimental/noise sound art. I think that experience stays with me. About two years ago, I got to know Shinya in the NYC music scene and I really like his self-developed sensor and program that created unusual percussive sounds. And this sound came to my mind when I started this project.
The rhymes and glitchy effects provide a foundation and counterpoint for some of the main melodies and throughlines on the album. Balancing all these elements must take time to work through while mixing. I’m particularly awestruck by the sound of the track “Double Consciousness”—I felt nearly overwhelmed by all the competing sounds but could ground myself in what was going on by focusing on what each instrument was doing in the moment. Later, I would focus on different instruments and get a fuller picture of the composition with each repeated listening, which motivates me to return to the record over time. Oddly, I was reminded of experimental ambient works like Tim Hecker’s album Virgins, or some of the chaos of Miles Davis’s electronic live records like Dark Magus—albeit with more clarity in the recording and isolation between all the different instruments; a beautiful chaos that doesn’t threaten to destroy what it collides with but instead gently rolls over and continues on its way, leaving behind only a soulful tone of assurance.
What was your experience working on the mix after all the sounds were recorded? Any tricks or advice for other jazz musicians looking to combine such disparate sounds into unique, chaotic compositions?
The mixing experience was simply amazing thanks to the engineer Aaron Nevezie at Bunker Studio. He is so skillful that all the sounds I can describe in words that he knows the way to make that happen right away. This is the most complex mix I’ve done so far, so it’s actually very delicate to find the right position and balance according to each song. We had Shinya come in to manually pan some of his tracks, so it can remain the lively feeling of improvisation. This is also a very new and challenging trial for me. I think my advice will be to have your vision as clear as possible, not be afraid to communicate, at last – trust the PRO.
You enter a smoky club and hear transcendental music playing. You think to yourself as you enter the room, “I recognize that piano playing. It’s gentle but potent in its form and expression.” You brush by the onlookers as you approach the stage, and then you see who’s playing: his head is hunched beneath a trail of smoke slowly rising overhead. His glasses flicker as he scans either side of the checkered canvas upon which his fingers touch—an artist dappling the surface with paint, emitting a vibrancy that fills the audience with a sense of life-affirming purpose. An invisible line is cut, and both the audience and the pianist plunge to the ground, startling everyone but the performer—the pianist, whose very back had carried the audience across a tightrope all along, coolly bows to the audience as they cheer and plead for at least one more song before the painful reminder of tomorrow barges through their door.
The performer’s eyes lock with yours, and you gasp, “There’s no way. That’s Bill Evans!” Bill flashes a millisecond grin before motioning for you to join him on the stage, waving his arm toward a vibraphone nearby and inviting you to play together. You join him on stage and pick up your mallets. Bill looks at you; without a word, you understand what he said:
“I’ll follow your lead. What do you want to play?”
With the smoky scene you described, I’ll pick ‘The Peacocks’. I’ve always loved the mysterious yet elegant feeling when he played that song.