Words by David C. Obenour
Small and simple movements can often be undervalued. Slower progressions seem at first to lack the impressive technicality of those done at speed. To balance sustaining and building. Deconstructing and falling back into silence. But in these purposeful moments, beauty is revealed. To do something filled with intent and focus, the precision can be awe-inspiring.
Brian John McBrearty’s album Remembering Repeating exists in these spaces. Known for his music on guitar and vocals, these album features neither. Instead, with the help of saxophonist Matt Douglas and drummer Ryan Jewell, the songs here are created around exploratory melodies on synthesizer. The sounds are intimate and universal. Powerful and gentle.
Off Shelf: Remembering and Repeating are the opening two songs for the album. Can you talk about how you see the combined title Remembering Repeating as fitting for the album?
Brian John McBrearty: The song titles and album title came later in the process which, in my experience at least, is often the case for instrumental music. But the titles “Remembering” and “Repeating” were the first two that I knew would make the final cut. A lot of my music is built around repetition and “remembering” is a kind of form of “repeating,” so the title is a mission statement of sorts.
Memory, however, is not an exact facsimile of the thing being recalled, so “remembering” necessarily involves a creative act. Remembering and repeating are ways that we tell ourselves stories about ourselves, how we figure out who we are. I was working through intense grief as I made this record and grief is, among other things, incredibly disorienting. Making this album, I was remembering who I am and attempting to put myself back together piece by piece the best way I know how. Much of music making is muscle memory—instrumentalists practice the same thing over and over again until it becomes ingrained and second nature. Repetition, then, is a means to reach a place where we do something without thinking. In other words, repetition can lead to a state of being present, which is where I think I needed to be in order to remember myself.
OS: After tragically losing your parents, would you mind sharing how they helped shaped these songs? Are there any moments that you feel particularly connected to them at?
BJM: Music, generally, is one of the most direct connections that I have to my parents. On a practical level, my parents were always supportive of me making music. They bought me my first guitar, drove me to lessons, let me use their garage to record my high school band’s first record, and did not bat an eye when I revealed I wanted to study music in college. Both were huge music fans and their listening habits, and general reverence for music, instilled in me a deep love for, and connection to, music. So, in a way all of the music I make is shaped by my parents.
Thinking about the songs on Remembering Repeating, I hear my parents in the melodic aspects of the record—the melodies and themes of “Remembering” and “Believing,” for example. I hear their voices in the melodies and remember times from my childhood when they pointed out a lyric, or solo, or melody that they liked in a song.
OS: Deeply personal in meaning but without the lyrics to more explicitly shape it, how do you think about the many ways this music will resonate differently with listeners?
BJM: To be honest, I generally do not think about how listeners will react to the music. I certainly hope that the music resonates with others and is meaningful to others but I also recognize that once the music is out there it is no longer mine. If the music I create is moving and meaningful to me, I trust that it may be moving and meaningful to someone else. Beyond that, I am fairly suspicious of the idea that the creator of a work is the authority on the meaning of that work.
OS: Can you talk about how you see the role of synthesizer as a principal instrument in this music, be it jazz or post rock? How is it unique from others in leading, shaping, and living within songs?
BJM: Looking at the current resurgence of music classified as “jazz,” I see a much more porous and open version of that genre than when I was an undergrad in the late 90s/early 2000s majoring in jazz guitar. Modern jazz incorporates elements of many other styles of music—hip hop, ambient, post-rock, etc—and the expanded instrumentation used in modern jazz reflects that. Of course, previous generations of jazz musicians borrowed from many genres and experimented with instrumentation, but I think this current era displays a more seamless integration and incorporation of these “non-traditional” elements.
My primary instruments are guitar and vocals, and this is the first album I’ve ever made that features no guitar at all, so the foundational tracks for the record came out of a state of play—me experimenting with sounds and melodies with no real intention beyond exploring my instrument. For me, my lack of familiarity with the instrument that is the basis of this album is what makes the music exciting and unique. I am figuring it out as I go along!
OS: What do you respect about ways that others have used synthesizer in these spaces? How does that inspire you?
BJM: The combination of acoustic/analog instruments with electronic/digital elements is inspiring to me and I think we are in an era where the acoustic/electronic combination is particularly effective. The album Promises by Floating Points, Pharoah Sanders, and the London Symphony Orchestra is an excellent example of this, and it was a particularly mind-altering album for me. I listened to it every day for a few months after it first released. Promises pushes many boundaries and sits outside of genre in a realm that is pure music—it’s cinematic yet intimate, familiar yet new. Remembering Repeating owes much to myriad influences, but Promises is certainly around the top of the list.
OS: Working with saxophonist, Matt Douglas and drummer, Ryan Jewell, could you talk about what each brought to Remembering Repeating? Do you see this trio continuing on for further recordings?
BJM: The first words that come to mind are “musicality” and “sensitivity” when I think of Matt and Ryan’s contributions. The album was recorded remotely, with each musician recording their own parts in home studios, but it sounds incredibly organic and interactive, and I think that is largely due to the way in which Matt and Ryan approached the music. Upon first hearing their contributions, it was immediately clear to me that Ryan and Matt “got it” and understood what I was going for. I’m not sure what is next for me, but I definitely hope to work with Matt and Ryan again soon.
OS: You say that your music is “a sort of sacrament, communion with the eternal” – I was wondering if you could delve into that further. How does this play out in creation? How does it play out in performance?
BJM: Last year, I saw Hamid Drake’s project Turiya, which honors the music of Alice Coltrane. During that performance, Hamid mentioned that Alice taught him how to live a “life in music.” At the time, I thought Hamid’s reference to a “life in music” was practical in nature—namely, dedication to practicing and getting better to enable oneself to record and gig and tour and earn a living playing music. After thinking about it more, however, my initial point of view seemed limited. Sure, attaining proficiency on an instrument is a worthy goal and enables deep and articulate musical expression, but I think Hamid meant something more. I think Alice taught Hamid that your life can be music, regardless of whether or not you play professionally. Literally, you can live a life in music, surrounded by it, thinking about it, playing it, etc., and when the relationship gets that deep you cannot help but treat the music tenderly and with reverence. When I play with others, or when I write, I am a link in a chain, part of a continuum that dates back to the beginning of human existence and stretches out into the far reaches of the universe. Literally, everything is vibrating and music is an opportunity to raise the vibrations.
OS: Did the album start as an instrumental effort? How did that affect your approach to songwriting?
BJM: To be honest, creating an album of synthesizer-based music was an accident because I had no intention of making an album when I began recording the synth tracks that would become the basis for it. I simply wanted to learn how to better use a synthesizer I had purchased years before – a Roland Boutique JU-06 – and, at the same time, I decided to record the various synth riffs and themes I was improvising and composing as I dug deeper into the instrument. Mostly to gain an understanding of how to record this particular synth, and also to bank material that could perhaps be repurposed later in the context of my songwriting practice.
When I decided to pursue an album I knew it was going to be instrumental and the real work of writing these tunes was deeply intertwined with the recording/mixing process. Essentially, I took the synthesizer building blocks that I had previously recorded and arranged them into songs that I could send to Matt and Ryan to record over. When I got a hold of Matt and Ryan’s tracks, the songwriting process began again as I incorporated new material into the arrangements.
OS: Do you see the life and evolution of an instrumental song as different from a song with vocals? How it can fit into a particular live setting or grow over time?
BJM: Much of the music I make is centered around improvisation and, specifically, instrumental improvisation, so whenever I am playing or writing I am thinking about creating space for musicians to interact in an organic way that is not preconceived. Those moments can happen in the context of an instrumental song or a song with vocals. For music that I write and bands that I lead, the idea of playing a song the same way every time is not appealing. Songs are living things, so I try to let them grow and change.
OS: Evolving and swelling for nearly five minute, can you talk about the transition on Unfolding when Matt and Ryan join you? What do you feel in that moment?
BJM: Compositionally, I’ve always been interested in song forms that fall apart and come back together. Advancing and receding and advancing again. The first half of “Unfolding” essentially presents all of the synth elements with staggered entrances and exits for the different harmonic and melodic fragments and then, when Matt and Ryan enter, it all comes together. Looking back at the performance notes I gave to Matt, I included the following imagery and descriptors: “floating down a highway, dreamy, jumping in slow motion.” There is a confident and quiet drive to the music when the drums, bass, and sax enter, and Matt and Ryan made their mark on this tune, adding their own complementary ideas to bring the tune back together after the lull in the middle section.
OS: The last 30 seconds of Receiving for some reason seem to resonate particularly deeply with me. There seems to be a lot of emotion within how the album finally lets go of its hold. Can you talk about how you choose it as an end and how it hits you?
BJM: Thank you and I agree that “Receiving” is an emotionally powerful track. I think it may be one of the most vulnerable pieces of music I’ve ever created. I made the decision to sequence the album with “Receiving” as the closer after all the tracks had been mixed. For me, this track distills the experience of grief but also hints at hope for a life beyond grief. Looking again at the performance notes I gave to Matt, they include the following imagery and descriptors: “peaceful, feeling the sun and wind on your skin, striving towards harmony.” It felt appropriate to end the record with a bit of closure and some hope.