Broken Marching Band was the inspiration for the album title (Surfaces of a Broken Marching Band), so this song is somewhat representative of the album as a whole, but perhaps even more so of the concept behind the title. The unifying idea for the album, and distilled in this song, is a sense of taking a bunch of instruments and throwing them on the floor and then coaxing melodies and sounds out of them; shattering something in order to find what was lurking underneath the “proper” way of using it. This is a central idea to much of the music I’ve done: taking melodies apart to find harmonics that can then be used to create new melodies, tossing objects around and against each other to see what happens. This is my way of finding sounds that didn’t exist otherwise, which only happened for that instant, and couldn’t have necessarily been planned. If you know that you want the sound of a snare drum then you record something that resembles a snare drum, but if you don’t know what kind of sound you want or what characteristics it will have, then making things happen in a random way is a good way of finding what you didn’t know you were looking for. This is how I approach music much of the time.
Once the individual sounds and melodic fragments exist, it’s about finding a way to string these sounds and pieces together into something resembling a definition of “music.” I often feel like I make a song because it’s the only way to translate a moment I really want people to hear into something that people might actually listen to. I would imagine it’s akin to a director that has a specific scene in his/her head and just wants to express that, so a film is built around it to make it presentable to a larger number of people.
For this song (and album) I used only sounds that began in the physical world outside electronics. This means that all the percussion, atmospheric and incidental sounds came from recordings of objects or street noise or some other field recording, and the horn melodies stemmed from one recorded trumpet sound that I mapped to the virtual keyboard and used to make different melodic fragments to work with. I began with some simple melodic ideas and then broke them up, stretching them out and passing them through some light effects to see what I could get those individual chords to do. I knew what I was aiming for in terms of mood and direction, but on a localized level I embraced what sound could come out of these initial ideas and how I could layer different pieces of them into a more affective scenario. I processed and edited fragments in order to work on slightly larger pieces to arrange around each other, but often, new fragments came out of this, and then the process started all over. I love those instances when a song can seem like it’s shaping up in a certain way, and then there’s this slight sound that you didn’t hear before, which catches your attention and changes the perspective of what will be highlighted in the song, or how it will be arranged or how it will resolve itself. This is a large part of how I work. I know exactly what I want to hear once I hear it, but until that point I am merely making attempts at finding it.
Rhythmically, I am working off of techno as a backdrop, but as just a backdrop rather than a driving force. In this track, I wanted to have sort of a marching type of rhythm within this bumpy techno-ish frame. It’s fairly repetitive, with subtle changes here and there, as the glue of everything, allowing other sounds to stray because they have this object at the center which chugs along, just like this symbolic, imaginary band at the heart of it. I like working on details and incidents within an overall rhythm track. I enjoy the sounds that don’t seem to have a specific reason for being there and don’t seem to follow an overarching pattern as a whole, while following their own internal logic, having a specific place and purpose once you delve further into a piece. In this track there are a bunch of sounds from wooden blocks knocking together and a few percussion hits that came out of the field recordings used in the background. These aren’t part of the core groove, but are an important part of the peripheral to that core – the elements which allow that rhythmic mainstay to be so directional and not attempt to do too much. I love loopiness with an amount of sonic outliers to that loopiness, which allow it to function as it does.
Two of the main sounds used in the atmosphere of the song are the sound of water lapping against a river wall, which I recorded through a grate I was standing on at the Hudson River on the west side promenade in NYC, and the sounds of children playing in the street. These playing sounds I got from my friend Thomas Hildebrand. He recorded them from outside his window, in the alley between his apartment building and the adjacent one. I found certain aspects of the sounds fascinating and edited out those parts. I can hear someone groaning when they read the words “children playing,” but there were some amazing moments in the recording. There was a lot of image-provoking material in there with the echoes and the metal fences and the concrete street. I’m excited by the sound of the container, and what is happening inside that container, and how that can interact with instrumental sources. The sound of the environment they were in and how that interacted with the human element was what I wanted to use, so I pitched everything down, making the child’s voices less recognizable, or at least less child-like, bringing them into a different context, or a less reality-based one at any rate. I’m not super interested in bringing reality into my music, but rather an observation of reality. I’m more interested in stylized perception than strict translation, giving it some distance from its origin without losing sight of that origin. I hope this allows the listener to ascribe what they perceive without the constraints of my individual interpretation. I want to bring out the poetic aspects of sound that are right there, but sometimes require a different focus (or lack of focus) to rise to the surface. I try to use this in order to create a contrast that can make warm melodies warmer and disorienting sounds more disorienting, while attempting to make both more listenable because of the ways in which they relate to each other.
Broken Marching Band wants to exist in a crevice between warm and melancholic and dark; pretty, but not too pretty, heartfelt, but layered and more emotionally complicated than that. Though I seemingly have broken down different components of the track here, the most important component is how they work together: the rhythmic elements of melody, the melodic aspects of rhythm and the unifying abilities of atmosphere and texture. This track is a fairly good representation of a lot of my songs, with loop-based, but constantly shifting patterns and pieces stitched together to form less of a progression in some classic or pop-inclined sense than one which makes sense for the song at hand. All my choices have to do with details that fit in the context of what comes before and after that detail. This seems kind of obvious, but my point is that I don’t have any more than an extremely general sense of what a song will be before I get deep into it. All the twists and turns come out of simply working on a piece. The space of the track shapes itself as the work happens, fitting pieces together, finding what passage makes most sense with what other passage. I used to dislike thinking of my music as experimental, because that denoted a sense of “let’s try something out and whatever happens, happens,” which feels too detached for me. Yet, this is a large part of my approach to music: trial and error and observation. It’s not detached, but rather carefully arranged with a sense of “I don’t know what will come out of this until I try a bunch of experiments with a group of sounds.” Only then can I produce the results from which I can choose moments that resonate with me, and turn those moments into a larger statement.
How do I make a mix? I go from the gut. I decide upon the general mood to start with and how I want to end. I'll pick maybe 25-30 tracks and whittle it down. Sounds go with sounds, moods go with moods... I like to make it raw. I try not to spend too much time obsessing, and I give quick listens to feel the funk and move on arranging my tracks loosely. Then I just go for it. It's gotta be from within. I feel that the more brain you put into a DJ mix, the less you can call it body music. I play body music that doesn't disappoint the brain. This mix is a bit on the moody end of things. I've been feeling raw, rough sounds and lots of organic percussion lately. You'll find this mix travels from a deep and moody place to a rough and dirty place, giving a nod to my roots of techno, deep house and jazz. I like that.
All my life was there, organized in packets made of needs and memories, of hopes and projects. The last years, the ones in Paris, were obviously more represented, but small fragments of my past lives, in different hearts and places, found hospitality beside them. Each of them was a potential gate to my past life, to use in case of sentimental or emotional needs, or in case of a sudden lack of references, or just for fun.
That pile of luggage hid a high potential of experiences, a surplus value deriving from their actual space-time location and from my mental state. The casual condition was linked to the travel I was starting.
My train arrived and I went towards the cabin I had booked. After some time my train departed. When it started moving, the pendulum of my life stopped for a long extra-dimensional moment. I wanted to live that journey, in a deep and symbolic way: a passage between two life cycles.
If there’s something a man can control in that function with infinite variables called life, it is the density of the temporal dimension. Our mind allows it. Of course, in the routine that composes our days, time (our time) is quite linear and homogeneous. These are the references that link us to time and space, without them we feel lost.
The journey, if you accept its potential, could be an opportunity to part from the laws of certainty. Dizziness is the risk; intuition of synthesis, draw the prize from the universal source.
My small non-place beside the railway represented the perfect place. I took off my watch, switched off my mobile and closed my eyes. The noise of the train quickly became a litany. Each cycle is like itself.
Then I opened my eyes and started to record the “Process”.
And the journey was made. The only fact that proved it, that recording. Create and travel. In both cases, look at the world without the glasses of expectations and habits. A dive in the Point, a dimensional entity with infinite possibilities, and then crop out with brushes and colours.
A few days after the release of my first e.p on the label InFiné, I was asked to play my tracks live at the Rex Club, Paris. I was given a very short time to prepare the set (3 weeks), and in addition, I didn't have enough tracks to fill the one hour slot given to me by the club's management.
I needed to compose some new tracks, fast.
Imprisoned in my room yet freed by the sound, riding glorious peaks and plunging deep into anxious troughs as I experienced the loneliness of my isolation and the unparalleled joy inherent in the act of creation, I conceived this live set not as a succession of tracks but as a single, complete entity.
The second track was so inextricably linked to the first one, the third to the second (and so on...) that I became aware I was working on one single track that lasted one hour (or 1:30 or 30 minutes, according to the way I’d choose to play it when the time came).
Today, it is rare for me to be able to extract any part of this live set without encountering the uncomfortable feeling that I am amputating it from a whole, a whole which gives it sense, meaning, a reason for being.
Everything I do is a concept. In many ways it’s a way of detaching my full emotional biases. Creating a story through music, I am able to share emotions and memories…and I am also able to sonically reinvent them. Among all the mediums that can remind you of a person, a moment, a quirk, or simply a picture, music is one of the most powerful. Through music I build a soundtrack to places that don’t physically exist but that are grown in my head or in other people’s imaginations. That’s the amazing thing about it. The intention and the perception can fuse the artist to the listener. You are listening to me. My thoughts are conceptualized for you to look upon in a completely open state of voyeurism. But eventually (if not automatically) you link your own thoughts to the sounds and you become the attendee to yourself. An honest connection. The listener becomes the concept onto themselves as the music plays. I enjoy being the seeker of new music or old. Presenting it to people and watching them smile, cry, hug, isolate, kiss etc., etc. I wonder what constructs they follow in their heads. Some are timid, some nervous, some outwardly fun…or others, stoic.
Those are the creationists.But what happens when you can't keep your love of that process reserved to one genre (or in this case sub-genre) of music? You draw from all the emotions, memories, pictures that flash past with every note. Songs that moved you, inspired you, made you feel strong or weak…you get the point.
So, in the spirit of all the people and places that have been the tourists and the residents in my life, each song is a memory for me or a reminder. They are mostly downtempo, chill-out and dub trip hop. I love mixing these kinds of tracks as I honestly feel I can't get any closer to my core than what is presented here. In this genre the selection and flow is more important than the technical. This is what makes it is so enjoyable for me. Sometimes you can get caught up with making a mix overly complicated or just too perfect. That mentality is thrown out the window here. Life is hectic with the world running faster and faster, everyone needs a vacation from something it seems. I think this is why this type of music exists in the first place…we can be a residential tourist. Meaning, to be on a vacation at home, the car, the morning wake up ritual or what have you. Sometimes you don't have to go anywhere to appreciate home.
01. Kayot- One night in cuba *original mix* 02. Jon Hopkins - Apparition 03. Mr.S - Acoustically Illustrated 04. Jimi Dub - Now and Then 05. William Orbit - They live in the sky 06. Max Sedgley - Slowly 07. Gripper - Fame 08. Sub Sub - Past 09. Lustral - Everytime *A man called adam balearic mix* 10. Vibrasphere -Heading North 11. Hieronymus - Easy 12. Air - La Femme d'Argent 13. Morcheeba - The Sea 14. Elysium Cray - Desolate Shores 15. Lemon Jelly - In the bath 16. Taban Hayes - Rococo Rug Shuffle 17. Zimpala - To the base
I have found two BIG problems with using a computer as the center of my creative process.
STOP!
Yes, I run a music software store, and the above declaration does sound like a crack dealer advising clients to just say no. But hear me out. This is my process, and everybody goes about his or her business differently. Don’t worry, I’ve found a way to have my crack and smoke it too, and so can you!
Now back to the two BIG problems...
My first problem with a computer-centric musical approach is that there are too many options. The age of the virtual instrument has provided me with a never-ending gluttonous feast of sounds and textures. Way too much! Yet hasn’t that always been the goal of computer music; to break the boundaries of real-world physics, to create an infinite palette of sounds? Am I Un-American? Isn’t more ALWAYS better? In fact for me the opposite has proven true. For my process, infinite choices make for infinite decision-making. Everything grinds to a halt, and with every decision I make a small amount of second-guessing is injected into the mix. Doubt seeps in.
My second problem is that Audio and MIDI editing software make it way too easy to go back in time and clean up my stupid mess. Again, on the surface this seems to be a good thing: A note is early, go back and fix it. Sharp? Bring it down a quarter tone. But where should I draw the line? At what point are my mistakes within acceptable limits? What are the acceptable limits? It takes courage to display faults, but it is equally difficult to be objective. So mistakes get over-corrected. My results become a sanitized version of the original intent. The passion gets quantized, pitch corrected, and lost. I am imperfect. Music is imperfect. Let’s all make mistakes.
So it is with these realizations that I have recently changed, or rather reverted-to, my original music making process. I pick up my first love, my acoustic guitar. Here is an instrument with a stringent set of rules. Within those rules, I am liberated from the computer’s timbral decision-making demands. I am free to concentrate on the song. After the song, then the recording. No pushing notes about, just playing it through. Now the computer derived embellishments that follow are added to serve the song. The textural decisions become easy. They serve the song. The rhythms and textures bend and make room for the original performance, but the chaos of fingers on vibrating strings on frets on resonant wood remains unchanged, frozen in time for the hearing.
Donate Your Body to Silence is one of a number of tunes I am currently working on using this approach, a set of similar ideas I hope will become an album soon. Maybe a space-rock-tri-fold concept album! One can only hope. Please enjoy responsibly.
The making of Love You All (from the Luomo album Convivial on Huume)
I began making this song having Sascha and his vocals in mind, which is very unusual for me. I think it is one of the only times I have worked like this (making music with a particular singer in mind). I liked the song Arcadia on his latest album and could see the potential in collaborating with him. I asked him and he was interested to hear what I was thinking about.
As Sascha's schedule is quite busy, we began the collaboration via email even though we were at the time living only a few hundred meters from each other. I made a sketch of the song and sent it to him for his reaction. He was into it. Next, I sent him some lyrics for the song, which he liked. He told me he had been having hard time coming up with lyrics for it.
Then he did a demo recording with vocals at his place and sent that back to me. I liked what I heard. What he sang then are more or less the same lines that appear in the final version. From there, we faced the most difficult part: finding a time to be in the studio together. This really took awhile, what with traveling, flu, traveling, flu, busy, blah. Eventually we made it to my studio in Berlin and Sascha sang the vocals a few times and it just sailed through, very easy and quite convivial.
After I had the song and the vocals, I had the most interesting and challenging part ahead: the post-production, mixing, etc. Sometimes there is further exploration and experimentation in this phase (looking for what works and what doesn’t) but in this case I was quite clear in what I wanted to achieve with this song. The form was already there and I didn't want to make it too weird. Rather, I wanted it to go more towards the pop stuff I had in mind. It was just a case of looking for ways to make the song sound good and interesting, mixing it together. The song with Sascha was really one of the easiest (if not the easiest) to come up with and finish for the new album.
Since then I have done a more minimal and dance-floor oriented mix of the song which was quite lots of fun as well.
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