Joe Cox and independent Leeds

Word on the street is that Leeds isn't the new London, or just behind Manchester in the urban cool stakes. It's not "picking up speed" to become a generic British high street, and it certainly isn't part of the new breed of European super city, swallowed in a gulp over a weekend and then left behind.

If you follow my blog or other adventures in cyber space, you'll know that, up until May, I worked in Leeds for a good 18 months, embedded in the creative community at Leeds College of Music and the surrounding bubbling pot of the cultural quarter. In June I was ecstatic to take up a role with Scottish Labour (more on that in a future post) to work on campaigning for the referendum. Before I left, I knew I wanted to interview someone I hadn't yet, someone who would provide my readers with an illustration of why I think Leeds is so ruddy great.

After some rumination, the ideal person suddenly popped into my head, and I was chuffed when he agreed to take part.

I'm excited to take my blog to Scotland, and I'm very much in love with my new job role. But there is something about Leeds that will always lie dear in my heart. I knew it as a child as my nearby cosmopolis, and I know it as an adult as a city that pushes creativity and experimentalism above all else.

The booming independent scene in Leeds is like no other. From Village to LS6, it hurdles over those barriers of traditional urban life that push a city in pretentiousness rather than encouraging natural trends and welcoming collaborations.

Calverley born Joe Cox is an embodiment of the spirit of Leeds - an entrepreneur, musician, press aficionado, family man and all round good chap – there are few people on the Leeds' music scene that don't know him. In a city that cherishes originality, collaboration and being down to earth, it's not difficult to see why Joe has thrived. I'll let the interview do the rest of the talking:

So, you work for I Like Press, for the Belgrave, for Leeds College of Music, you’re starting a new band and you have a pretty exciting drum restoration business on the up. How did it all get started?

A lot of it started with I Like Press. I started interning for them in 2009, so that led to work with Leeds Guide and links to other business and projects. I always planned to get involved in as much stuff as I possibly could. When I was younger I was always like "how I am going to get work?" because I wanted a job that I actually would want to do. I knew it was tough to get a job in the arts and in music and I guess that's why I've had to poke around and get involved in a lot.


How did the drum business start?
I just graduated last summer, bought a drum kit that was really old, did it up, that was great. Had loads of time because I'd just graduated, so I bought another. And then another. So I just had loads of kits, and I was like "I don't need all these kits!!" And so I started selling them and it just snowballed from there. So it started off me just collected them for myself and boredom, and then it quickened up suddenly and led to in-out, in-out with the kits.


Would you say there’s a niche for drum restoration at the moment? 
Everyone always says it's amazing how such a small thing can work. The way I see it, though, is that with all music shops shutting, no-one’s buying new gear much. Those people are looking into second hand stuff, and then from that they're getting into the older stuff. Everyone loves retro throwback: clothes, cars, gear. There's always a market for it.

Do you think you could do what you've done here in another city?
It probably wouldn't be as easy in another city, and that’s just because – even though it's a niche business, it's amazing how much people support it on the independent scene in Leeds even though they have nothing to do with it.

I've never thought of it as such – that everything else I've done in Leeds has contributed to my business, but it has, in a big way.


Do you have a favourite venue in Leeds?
It’s tricky to narrow it down, but I guess I’d say the Brudenell and the Belgrave both have amazing sound and stages. A lot of venues will sound good offstage but not on stage, and both of them have that.


Why do you love Leeds?I don't think there's one scene - you don't just have a music scene, or one kind of art scene. Everything's just connected – so, for example, you've got your coffee scene with people like Laynes, and then they're collaborating with people like The Belgrave and popups so that brings them together.

The street feasts across the city with The Belgrave and Canal Mills bring so many independent pop-ups together.

There's this gig that goes on in Shipley at Golden Cabinet; they bring all these weird and wonderful bands together and then The Print Project does a print especially for it - and then exhibit them at The Sparrow and at Leeds Print Festival, which was hosted at Leeds College of Music. And then Colours May Vary sold a few.

That's just a great example of how the music and art come together because, I haven't been to one of those gigs yet, but I've got two of those posters and I went to the gig sound check to buy the poster. It’s a really good example of how everyone kind of helps each other, because if that gig wasn't around then there wouldn't be a reason to make a poster for it. So it's all interlinked. I think that's just great.

alphabet & Leeds.

Another musical number (haha!) for you here. I got to interview Jacob and Jamie a few months ago on the back of the growing buzz around their track Just Another Day. They're due to re-release the single tomorrow, so I thought this would be the perfect time to share. You can see the story in it's a original glory here, and have a little listen to one of their tracks below as you read. 

 

Electronic-pop duo alphabet. is made up of Pop student Jacob Savage and Leeds-based DJ/Producer Jamie Hartley. Focusing on the pursuit of “writing and producing great music”, the attention surrounding them is growing quickly. Already picked twice as a BBC Introducing track in 2014, and having song ‘Just Another Day’ played by the likes of Fearne Cotton, Scott Mills and Greg James, their first 5 months working together have been nothing if not fruitful. We caught up with them to learn what it is about their music that has been making waves.

So, tell us a story – how did alphabet. meet? 
Jacob Savage (S): We met in October 2013 through a mutual friend who runs a radio station – Jamie was there doing a show and I had some session work, and we sort of got chatting and one thing led to another! We started making music, and the track ‘Just Another Day’ was released in December. It got picked up by BBC Introducing in Leeds pretty quickly, and then by Radio 1 as theirIntroducing track for the week.

Sounds like its been gathering momentum pretty quickly – I noticed you’ve been working with a few different artists on remixes as well as having released the track? 
Jamie Hartley (H): Yeah, we’ve had some interesting e-mails! Me being a DJ, I know quite a lot of other up-and-coming producers in Leeds and I just put it out there on my Facebook: does anyone want to remix this tune that we’ve done? Loads of people got back, people I didn’t even know, so we just thought “why not”? We sent out the stems got some really great remixes back.

S: Some of those have been put on quite big YouTube channels as well, and Jamie’s own remixes have been doing well.

H: My remixes give the track more of a house/upbeat feel, because obviously the music we make is quite down tempo.

Yeah, ‘Just Another Day’ is quite intense! Did you write it with the idea of having it remixed in mind? 
S: I don’t think it was until we’d actually written the first tune and got it back that we thought “actually this is a really good way of getting music out there”. Because I personally listen to a lot of remixes and then want to go and source the original song.

H: I’m kind of the opposite – I’ll listen to tunes and then try to find remixes to play in clubs, so it’s exciting to hear someone else’s take on a tune that you wouldn’t have even thought about. We’ve had some back where we’ve thought, “Wow, how did they get that out of our tune?!” It’s exciting in that way.

S: It means the tracks don’t die as quickly as well, because after they’ve been released there’s still remixes a few months later, so there’s a bit more longevity to them.

And you’re working on a new track at the moment? 
S: Yep…we’re on vocalist number four now (laughs)

H: It’s a tricky track! We had it nailed down, but then we met up with an A&R guy who said that he loved the tune, but he felt the singer needed a different sound. It was pretty invaluable advice, in the sense that the first tune had a voice that you can hear on the radio, its got that almost commercial sound to it, whereas the vocalist on the new track was a little bit left field.

S: It’s such a good voice and I still really like it – it’d be perfect for an album track, but obviously as we’re looking for the next release it’s not ideal for something like this. We’ve done quite well picking vocalists so far – Jordan (ILA) who sang ‘Just Another Day’, she’s had quite a lot of offers from it, and Charlotte who sang on ‘Kite Runner’, she’s doing work with T. Williams down in London off the back of this track – he heard her voice on it and really liked it.

So, what do you look for in a vocalist? 
S: I think we’re doing right in how we’re picking them – a lot of them are love hate voices, real marmite ones!

H: We like that because it gets people talking about them – I think that’s better than hearing something and going “ah, that’s alright” but then moving on to the next thing. A lot of them are people we know or heard before, but we’ve been approached directly too. A London management company heard our track and got in touch to set us up with a male vocalist – he’s going to come up for a couple of days next week and we’re going to do some writing with him and see whether we work well together.

S: It’s quite nice to break the Leeds bubble in that way – have people coming up from London to see us and get involved with us rather than us feeling like we have to gravitate around the capital ourselves.

How important is that collaborative element to alphabet.? 
H: It’s been about that from the start really – we always wanted to be the baseboard for loads of different artists getting involved with our work, we want to experiment with different voices, with different styles and try and encompass them under alphabet.

S: With a lot of electronic music you tend to see people hide themselves, and I think we had to make the decision whether we wanted to be more open, so now I like to think that we’re good at engaging with others. If anyone wants to do a remix, all we have to do is email them and send them all the files they need which is much easier than trying to grab them off the internet.

I know you said it was similar interests that drew you together, but are there any inspirations you share?
H: When I first met Jacob I remember speaking to him and, I can’t remember how it came up, but it turned out we were both big fans of The XX, and other acts like James Blake and London Grammar, and working together came from us both saying “you know, I’d love to try and make some music like that”. It helps as well that we have such different backgrounds in music, with Jacob being classically trained and me working in the electronic music industry for so long – but we both still really appreciate and enjoy the new wave side of things.

S: I’ve collaborated with a lot of people, and I always had the feeling that every time you add someone to a collaboration, you’re diluting the end goal by how ever many parts you’re adding.  It’s not been like that so much with us. Whenever we’ve set out to do a song – before its been materialised we both know what it’s going to sound like before it’s going to be finished, which is very exciting.

Find out more about alphabet. here 

Georgia Thursting and leaving behind Gibraltar

Another one of those interviews where you end up talking about what you love - the mystical nature of performance & communicating it. Gibraltarian Georgia Thursting is an incredibly talented young musician. 

She reminds me of my other favourite musical Georgia - Georgia Ruth - in that her articulation and honesty of lyrics is quite heart-striking. So much so that there's a little playlist to set you off listening as you read the interview I did with her for the Leeds College of Music Annual Report (which I'm copywriting in full!).  

  
Though only halfway through her second year at Leeds College of Music, there’s already an audible murmur of attention surrounding Georgia Thursting, within the conservatoire, around the city and in the Big Smoke itself. While she bares the large doe-eyes of many of the year’s breakthrough acts in higher pop echelons, her aesthetic and sound hold something far more substantial and arresting.

Let’s take example 1 – from her song ‘Game of Hearts’ – a tale about misleading another’s affections and ending up in a worse position herself:I could’ve made your love a test/To keep me impressed/But I couldn’t resist myself/You look so much better undressed. 

To example 2 – the bluesy aggressiveness courtesy of “Love Him Like Me” that tells the tale of stealing another woman's man: Your position is weak/Unlike me/I told you you’d be/Unhappy. 

Combining this with a rich soulful voice and guitar melodies that thread rhythm around the feet as easily as they do around the heart, and you’re already starting to see what the fuss is about. “I started playing guitar about two years ago – I had been really inspired by singer-songwriters like early Amy Winehouse and Laura Marling and wanted to start writing songs away from the piano. I learnt to play guitar to an Amy Winehouse songbook – which helped push me in the soul/jazz direction.

"When I moved to London in my gap year I started gigging, meeting people and collaborating on the hip-hop and rap scene and it really opened doors for me – creatively and in a career-orientated way. I played at Ronnie Scotts and Hideaway Jazz Club and found this really tight-knit community of creative people to work with.” 

“During that year, I wrote about 5 songs but they were all different styles, because I’m inspired by some many different kinds of music. Trying to find your own sound can be difficult, and its only since I’ve been at Leeds College of Music that I’ve been able to do that – through working with loads of different musicians, and with people like Dane Chalfin and Dan Green who taught me to look at who I am and what I’m trying to sing about – to say what I want to say, without being scared to say it.”

And that’s where the parallels to artists with a more “in your face”, painfully honest approach like Winehouse and Marling continues – if only for a short while. Thursting mentions several times that these influences helped lock her into a more truthful state-of-mind when writing songs. “There were these songs on Marling’s first record that were so stripped down and honest – like ‘New Romantic’ – I know I said I loved you but I think I might be wrong/I’m the first to admit that I’m still pretty young; I just thought that was so beautiful and honest and well-articulated.” 

And presenting her self-aware, modestly guarded beauty in a starkly honest and non-indulgent manner is definitely something that Thursting is channeling – as the short study in her lyrics above shows. But while paragon-of-honesty-singers like Winehouse and Marling will respectively take their places on the thrones of soul and new folk, Thursting’s voice flits between genres with an ease and confidence rarely seen amongst musicians of her fledgling age group. 

It’s that confidence and her new education that’s helping her forge a brand and career for herself, two years shy of completing her degree. Having already penned an endorsement deal with fashion label Lexie Sport, and nearing completion with her first EP, Thursting’s first year in conservatoire education has been nothing if not productive. 

“My outlook on coming to uni wasn’t “lets have three years of going mad and showing up to lectures hung-over.” I came here to get better at what I do so that when I leave I have a career already starting. Some people go straight into the industry without studying, but I wanted to take my skills and grow them so that I’m the best I can be when I launch myself fully as an artist.” 

With a voice that fluctuates between deep soul, a lilting R’n’B twist and soft lingering folk reflections, Thursting’s guttural ability to recount past experiences makes her distinctly relatable. Capturing an old soul in a playfully young voice is always captivating, and Georgia is definitely making people sit up and listen – with fluctuation between genres a key reason for that. 

“That’s the essence of pop for me,” she explains, “its easy for people to make assumptions about what the term means, but really pop music is about drawing your inspirations together in a way that engages people on a wide scale, with a real sense of urgency and immediacy. The whole point is creating a connection with people that helps you grow together.”

Matt, Matt, and the United States of America

I've done a lot of video work over the space of my relatively short career, and this is one of my all time favourites. I worked with the brilliant Unity House to produce this video looking at the strange uncanny nature of the friendship of two International students at Leeds College of Music. 

Before meeting in Leeds, Matt McGraw and Matt Asti (two exceptional jazz musicians) had no idea that they had grown up streets apart back in their native Pennsylvania, that their parents worked in the same office - not even that they had the same name and jazz style glasses. What a place is Leeds if not one that brings the world together, ey? 

I really liked the idea generation part of this project - coming up with a storyboard and edit of a video that represents the truth spirit of the conservatoire, the city, and also the people in the video - their hopes and dreams come across quite honestly through the interview I did with them (a day of wondering round the city eating falafel, drinking tea and then working in the studio), which I think can be sometimes difficult with recruitment videos. 

When two jazz musicians called Matt from Philadelphia, USA, met for the first time at Leeds College of Music -- an almost preordained friendship and collaboration began to take shape. They talk about their experience as international students whilst laying down an original track, 'Deeds and Measures'. Music composed and performed by Matthew McGraw and Matthew Asti, and produced by Al Ross. Film by Unity House. 

Cynikal and London

Another musical one for you (I have some new travel and politics ones in the works at the moment, I promise! Including one on theatre and race, and another on conflict resolution). 

This is one of the most enjoyable interviews I've done - mainly because I forgot it was an interview and ended up having a bloomin' good long chat, sat outside in the sun in London. We had a lot in common in terms of how we view race in the arts and it was really liberating to be able to chat it out. Though I write about grumbling about London at the start of this, I want to flag up that's more coming from my persona as a Leeds-based writer (know your audience) as anyone who has met me knows I adore the place. 

Since graduating in 2010, Tavinder "Cynikal" Sanghera has been turning heads across the British hip-hop scene - as both an artist and a producer. I spoke to him about how he's been making his mark.

A Northerner in heart and soul, I spend my first of my two-day visit in London grumbling about the price of coffee, the pollution, and the cost of a smile on the underground.  The feeling seems to quell somewhat when I meet Tavinder Sanghera, aka Cynikal, for a sunny morning green tea on Carnaby Street, at an unintimidating and bustling Speakeasy Espresso.

It may well be the three-year Yorkshire nurturing period at Leeds College of Music that’s instilled him with such cheeriness, or perhaps the fact that, since graduating in 2010, Cynikal has been leaving his own distinct thumbprint on the UK hip-hop scene. 

The reasons for this, he says, could be multitudinous: his business-mindedness, his pre-conservatoire years performing the circuit, his adamancy that when he signs a record deal “it’s going to be a deal for life”, or the fact that he’s had to stand his ground relentlessly as one of few Asian rappers in the UK. But, from an outsider view, it looks as though his steadily growing success has come about more from his attitude and approach to understanding himself as a person and that comes, it seems, from the age-old mantra of getting yourself outside of your comfort zone. 

“I’ve heard a lot of people say you shouldn’t define yourself, “you shouldn’t ever try to be someone”, but the more I’ve thought about it, I think it’s really important in this day and age. You do need to try, not to be something but to be someone – to find what you’re comfortable with, and to find your identity.” 

“So many people feel like they’re comfortable – that they’re just rolling with what’s natural to them.  But what if that’s not natural to you? What if that’s what was natural to you, and now you’re just so comfortable with it, you don’t realize it’s not satisfying or real. What’s now natural to you might be very different – but you haven’t found it.  So you have to look outside of what feels comfortable and really find what’s individual to you.” 

So what exactly is it that Cynikal is offering, that has everyone from the BBC Asian Network to SBTV heralding him as “one of the most anticipated British artists of 2014” who “always brings his A-game to the table”?

 “The thing about my music is that it’s not defined by how I look. It’s executed with the original spirit of hip-hop culture in mind – and part of that is delivering who you are honestly to your listeners. My fan base is so diverse: I have people over 50 coming specifically to see me, kids of every race and background. “Let me just make my music, because when you hear me on the radio you don’t know what skin colour I am. Unless I mention it in my lyrics you don’t know where I’m from or anything. So I’m trying to make it one of those things where it doesn’t matter.”

Cynikal is also one of the few performers on the UK hip-hop scene successfully marrying his artistry with production – to offer a full package of skills that helps him gain perspective from the start to finish of what he’s delivering. “I’ve been a musician since I was 13,” he explains, “and I started rapping around the same time that I started producing. When I dropped the mix tape [Breakfast] last year, it created quite a buzz. Normally my arrangements of other tracks create quite a bit of attention – I never just cover tracks, I rearrange and produce them. 

“But this time, my original tracks got quite a lot of attention as well. That gave me the confidence with the new EP that we’re putting out this year, and the recognition of me as both an artist and a producer.” 

His skills to do so come from his early start performing on the hip-hop circuit, blended with his conservatoire experience. “I remember when I first got my acceptance letter from Leeds College of Music I was so excited, you don’t even understand. For a rapper to go study music is kind of weird, but then to be at a conservatoire – because I’d looked at conservatoires as this unachievable place to get into – especially for what I do. There is really only one conservatoire that gives you a course that would teach you Music Production well, and that’s Leeds College of Music. To get in, I was like “wow!”” 

“The environment, the teaching, facilities and just the fact that it’s an institution dedicated to music, that’s amazing. You can be in a music studio and across from us is a jazz recital and downstairs someone is classically training. You will meet people there that you won’t meet in other walks of life even though they’re all musicians. That was really cool, learning things from different people and different influences.” 

His passion and upbeat spirit seem almost surprising against the back drop of the relentless hard work that is going into his efforts to brand himself as a well-rounded artist-producer – not to mention establishing his music in both the hip-hop and mainstream pop scenes. 

He, for one, is quick to shrug this off:  “when people like Kanye West came out on the scene they were really heavily involved in everything, and people sort of realized that you can be a rapper and producer at the same time – you just can’t sleep as much.” 

Though artist-producers are seen to be a dime-a-dozen now a-days, it seems anyone who has heard, seen or met Cynikal, would argue pretty strongly that he’s not of generic stock.  It’s been his ability to not only embrace his strengths as he knows them, but to also consistently question what those are, that are setting him apart and above other artist-producers. 

“The way I see it,” he says, finishing off his green tea, “there are over 7 billion people on this earth and there are going to be a lot of similarities between a lot of different people, but no-ones the same.  Two fingerprints can be very similar but they’re not the same – you have to find out what’s different about your fingerprint and find out how you can make your imprint on the industry.  And if you do that, I think you can leave a legacy.”

Peter May & Film Music

My place of work holds a showcase at Steinway Hall in London every few months, and I've been lucky enough to promote the concerts, go along and make some videos and have a look into how this incredible company makes its pianos (my favourite model is this crazy one - just saving up the £300,000 to make it mine...)

Last time I went down, I interviewed Production student Peter May about composing music for film and the moving image before his performance at the Showcase. Check out the video I made with him at the bottom of the post. 

Oxford Street is definitely down in the books as one of the busier streets in the country.  As tourists, shoppers, businessmen and the rest of the London contingent flock down it day in day out, the last year has seen a quarterly funnel escape the bustle into the pocketed side street that hosts Steinway Hall.  

As the academic year comes to a close and the jazz, classical and popular students have held their lights on the stage at Steinway Hall, BA Music Production (2013) student Peter May observes the mass of pianos in concertina across the Steinway showroom floor.  “

It’s quite inspiring really, isn’t it?” he remarks in awe, shifting in his seat as his fellow performers sound check. Not that he should be intimidated. Winner of the Olivier Whittaker Prize for Interdisciplinary Collaboration, trombonist of the Leeds College of Music Symphonic Wind Orchestra and, tonight, showing two pieces he’s been working on over the last year. 

“There’s always been a lot going on while I’ve been here, but 2013 has definitely been a great one for collaboration. One memory that really stands out is recording my own music with some fantastic musicians. It's a very special moment to hear your ideas really come to life. Truly privileged.” 

It’s also only been in the past 12 months that May has really focused on his piano playing, with the facilities in the conservatoire aiding him. “Becoming an All-Steinway School has definitely made a difference. What I do is pretty varied across the board – so the fact that I can work on my piano skills, be in an orchestra, and have access to excellent production facilities really helps deliver the whole package.” 

And if there is ever an evening to watch May showcase the breadth of his approach, this is it. He’s showing two pieces from his final project, for which he’s created a conceptual album. 

“With the album, I wanted to maintain a similar creative purpose to that of music's role in film and television,” he explains, “so – music written to comment on a scene and manipulate us on an emotional level, drawing out the underlying moods, like feelings of unease or tension that connect us with our favourite TV protagonists, or burdening us with vivid feelings of anxiety and danger that set our hearts racing through a cinematic chase. 

“The first piece is the opening track, Curiosity – from this feeling I had to capture all the different emotional elements that make us feel curious; balancing the unresolving moments of anxiety and hesitancy that oppose the playful instability that collectively confounds our expectations of where the track is going to go." 

Slightly less playful is the second piece May is showing tonight – a re-score of a particularly harrowing scene from HBO’s Band of Brothers’ episode Why We Fight, which shows an American army squad, Easy Company, discovering a Nazi concentration camp. 

“I really wanted to have a go at writing music for an emotionally difficult and complex scene, hence my decision to re-score this. After brushing up on some German and re-dubbing all the voices with my flatmate, the challenge lay with creating a minimalistic composition that could still point suggestion towards the stark disbelief of Easy Company and the pain present at their discovery of a Nazi concentration camp. It was really interesting to compose music for the first experience of Easy Company, while trying to block out my present day knowledge and imagine being in their boots.  

“I'm fascinated by how music and the power of association can change how we feel, even sending shivers up our spines. Music for film and TV is something I'd love to build a career in.”

Declan Forde and the world of jazz

Unless I’m writing about the news or politics (when I imagine, perhaps misleadingly, that I’m contributing towards some bigger debate) the new people I meet and the conversations I have with them are really all about me – about how, quite selfishly, I want to learn something from them to understand the world a little better.

The list of “things I don’t know anything about” is pretty endless, and the past year has highlighted one bullet point in particular: jazz. I’ve not listened to much jazz during my life, but there is one description of it I came across when I was 17 that has stuck with me and defined it in my own mind – from Jack Kerouac’s great adventure On the Road:

“The pianist was only pounding the keys with spread-eagled fingers chords at intervals…when the tenorman decided to blow his top and crouched down and held a note in high C for a long time as everything else crashed along and the cries increased and I thought the cops would come swarming from the nearest precinct.”

This description has always situated jazz in a certain time and place for me, which, at the tender age of 17, seemed to move the genre out of my everyday accessibility sphere, and more as something of an age I could appreciate but not understand fully. In the spirit of learning through the people I meet, I decided to interview Declan Forde, a recently graduated jazz pianist and ask for his explanation in interview format, in an attempt to mask my own ignorance.

I could introduce Declan as an astounding pianist, that I’ve seen more than several people get teary-eyed over while watching, who organises innovative jazz-and-dance improvisation nights, and as someone who is experimental and cheerily collaborative in most musical measures. But to define anyone, let alone a musician is a tricky job, so I’ll let his own answers form more of an apt description of him.  

Outside of having the technicalities explained to me, I’m a bit stuck in understanding jazz. I reckon its because there’s something more cerebral that I’m missing?

I think a lot musicians have the same problem with it most of the time. As soon as you label something as ‘jazz’ they think of whatever they think of. Some people are militant in both directions – in sticking to traditional jazz or veering as far as possible away from it.

To be honest, its something I’m spending a lot of time thinking about now, because while I love traditional jazz, I don’t really feel like I’ve got a lot to do with that tradition. I feel like what a lot of people are trying to do is find music to play that has something to do with their background, that has something to do with them.

So, how would you define yourself? Are you a jazz musician, or a pianist?

I think I think of myself as a pianist. Or maybe just as a musician…I really don’t know. It’s so weird having to define yourself. This is a really strange time for me in defining my role, because it affects everything I do. What am I going to do if I get booked for something as a sideman on a gig, what’s my role? Should I try and suss out what the music means to me, or should I just play the role that’s expected? If it’s a straight ahead jazz gig, should I play like someone in 1956 would have? Should I find a way of fitting in with that music that has more to do with what I’m about – or is that selfish?

I guess a lot of people feel that art has to be “selfish” to a certain degree for it to communicate more honestly?  

I think so. I once did a duo gig with Les Chisnall, and at the end this woman came backstage, and she was crying (laughs in disbelief). She said it was like eavesdropping on a very private conversation, and it was lovely to be involved in making someone feel that. And I think that’s the idea – if my music can even reach one person, if it can make them feel something or understand something, then they’re as much a part of it as the musicians playing. 

And I think that’s quite important – it goes back to the age-old question: why am I playing music? There’s no political impetus behind it, in a way there’s no weight behind it, and so is it really just selfish? But then I think, if it can effect someone like that then it must be significant in even a small way.

How much does that sentiment translate to your improvisation work with dancers?

It resonates a lot. A couple of years ago I saw one of Kim Macari’s (LCoM graduate) recitals at college with a dancer. It just made complete sense to me to have improvised music and dance together.  

The first time we did a set with improvised dancers, it was myself, my brother Leo Forde, Tom Wheatley and Jay Davis (both LCoM graduates), and the dancers were Louise Gibbs and Alex Standard (both from the Northern School of Contemporary Dance).

It was a couple of completely improvised sets – the only suggestion was if you don’t want to play anything, don’t play anything. In my head this would result in solos, duos, trios, quartets etc. and worked well that way.  It was fun, a lot of people came down the first time I put it on – we tried to make it so it was totally inclusive; there was a rug and candles and people sat on the floor and I said before we started that people should feel free to chat – I wanted people to feel comfortable and people talked amongst themselves and with us and it was funny at times. The reviews afterwards said that was the nicest thing about it.

I guess the role of the audience is again really important in a different way with the improvised set up?

Absolutely. It seems like there’s almost no point in a performance like that if there’s no one there to witness or engage with it.

The most exciting thing for me is just having no plan and just playing, and I think that translates to an audience. I almost feel more comfortable doing that than playing written music. I suppose that’s what really works for me in defining myself – it’s about the process and making it as engaging and enjoyable and honest for yourself and anyone else who wants to be involved. If you don’t like what you do, it just becomes meaningless.

Michael Spearman & the Antarctic

The below piece was originally written for Leeds College of Music, but I felt it was a pretty fitting People & Pilgrimages piece for a few reasons. One was the fact that Michael Spearman was involved - a brilliant drummer from a band - Everything Everything - that I am a massive fan of. One of the reasons I do what I do is because I love music, and meeting him was a real pleasure, if a nervous one at that. 

The other was that it importantly involved the Place aspect of this blog - I met with Michael in Manchester, a city long close to my heart. I'm not sure Manchester gets the credit it deserves, often being referred to as a smaller facsimile of London. A bright, cold morning among the red brick and the careful lime green buzz of the city really reminded me of its consistent presence and confidence. 

Finally - what we talked about. Our conversation shipped over to Antarctic planes and journeys by explorers and photographers many years ago, and that's something that's really stuck with me. Without further ado: Michael Spearman and the Antarctic. 

On a winter’s evening in 1911, a group of men stood on an open snow plane in the Antarctic and had their profiles shot by photographer Herbert Ponting, as part of Robert Falcon Scott’s tragic expedition to the South Pole. Those frozen and determined faces, battling through a long and tireless journey, have become a profound icon of the British psyche.


102 years later Everything Everything drummer and BA Music: Jazz graduate, Michael Spearman, sits in a sun-soaked café in central Manchester, explaining how Captain Scott’s expedition became part of the band’s self-proclaimed “control-freakery” over how their music and aesthetics come together.
 
“Determining our identity was definitely a conscious choice with the new album,” he explains with quiet measurement. “With Man Alive we felt that we were seen as slightly strange – no one really knew who was in the band and what it was – it was just sort of faceless and it had a fox on the front cover. With all the music and lyrics being a bit at arm’s length, we didn’t really let people in too much. Hopefully the aesthetics of Arc are a signifier of it being clearer in lots of ways.”

 
In an industry age of fast-food music, produced for quick consumption with poor digestive results, choosing album artwork is only one aspect of how artists like Everything Everything are trying to keep a hold on how their music is delivered. The need to constantly self-promote, to be present on the scene and to produce records whilst simultaneously touring, create a challenge for musicians to hold steadfast to their own identity and approach. For them, tackling this permeates through all aspects of their approach – tweets, mail-outs, videos, and the production of their music.
 
“I was at the Bowie exhibition and there was an amazing little five-minute documentary on how they came up with the new album artwork – which has a white square on top of the Heroes artwork – and at first glance you look at it and you think ‘Oh, that mustn’t have taken long’. But I imagine the thought process was just huge behind that.
 

“Our faces on the Arc album cover were inspired by Captain Scott and his expedition. We went to loads of Ponting exhibitions and saw all his photographs and the style of it and chose a photographer and all this stuff that you’d think we wouldn’t bother with – we like doing that stuff. It’s fun and so much more satisfying. Especially when the stuff that you think is very, very simple is far more complex – like the three days we spent picking the right shade of yellow for the cover. These are the things you never think you’ll get involved in and end up teaching you so much, and giving you a different kind of creative outlet.”

 
Immersion in the details of what is being created is what helps the band feel like they’re making records that sustain themselves, and that speak true of the genre-transcending music they aim to put out. As well as the artwork inspiration of Captain Scott’s cold and difficult journey reflecting some of the sharp and stark loneliness that ribbons through the record (“Sold my feelings now I'm hanging by a thread” (Cough Cough), “Do you feel left behind? Like there's something not right?” (Duet)), the arduousness of the music-making process also resonates.
 
It seems no less poignant that the picture the artwork draws its inspiration from was taken at the start of Scott’s journey – now that Everything Everything are distilling and clarifying their approach does this seem like the beginning or a point of completion?
 
“When bands are on their third or fourth album and they take their foot off the gas, you can tell because the details aren’t quite there. We could definitely have less control but we care about it. It comes through in how we write music as well – we really put things through the mill and sometimes we end up not even liking them for a while, and we have to kind of take a break from those songs – normally it leads to something better for it. For us the harder we work things the better the result. We always want to be writing something better than the last thing for sure.”
 
Spearman’s influences are diverse, but his approach to drumming has always been one of discipline and a sort of quiet focus. Hailing from Northumberland, he graduated from Leeds College of Music in 2007 and formed the group with school friend and band front man, Jonathan Higgs.
 
“I grew up playing jazz, but I also grew up listening to Radio 1. I’ve always been keen not to close myself off from anything. One of the reasons I wanted to do jazz was how seriously people took it – it’s sort of that classical approach, that conservatoire approach, and it’s quite a pure approach as well. I found studying at a conservatoire fulfilling because I was part of something – you’re working together and you can all say ‘look we made this together, we survived this together’ and there’s a kind of solidarity.”
 
Now, looking back on how he took the next step after graduating, the control and focus he applies to the aesthetics and music making of his band resonates in his approach to life in general – focus, courage and conviction in what you believe.
 
“When it comes to advice, I’d definitely say stick to your guns. If you know what you want to do and believe in it then a) you’re quite lucky and b) you should just follow your convictions; you should stick to them. They might take a long time and you might need some luck as well, but I’d definitely say just stick to your guns. There will be sacrifices unfortunately in order to do that, but the gains are bigger – nothing good comes easy.
 
“Be brave. Even when I was 16 I knew that Jon (Everything Everything lead singer) was really good at writing songs and no one was going to convince me otherwise. And really, no one can say you’re wrong.”
 
And his reaction to those who might be slightly more doubtful about where they’re heading? “When I started studying music, someone told me that I wasn’t there because I wanted to be, but because I needed to be. And I do feel like that – I could have taken so many other routes that might have been more conventional or less specific. But there was something in me that said: “No, I need to do that”, and listening to that feeling was definitely worth it”.