Sometimes when I sit at the piano I think to myself, “Who am I kidding? I’m not a pianist.” Yet, something drags me back to the piano time and time again and I believe a lot of my best ideas have come from slouching at the piano and searching. More often than not I can’t explain what I’m searching for other than: something new. There’s nothing new under the sun. I’ve yet to discover a new chord and I highly doubt if I’ve invented even a new chord sequence. I’m convinced they don’t want to be found. “No thank you. We’re doing just fine under these keys not being exploited by you or anyone else.”
Improvisation is a big part of the search. If we tread the same places over and over we usually only find the same old things. Improvisation is the musical equivalent of the Buddhist principle of impermanence: Just a flash and then it’s gone. Improvisation is not meant to be repeated or improved upon; it’s meant to blossom like a night flower, perhaps only once and probably at a time when no one ever notices it. Recording improvisation is almost sacrilege, like taking selfies at a burial service. That’s probably the best way to think of this album, having been centered around improvised performances: selfies in front of a coffin being lowered into the ground.
Most of these pieces began with texture and rhythm. I wanted the music to be in a time signature without always being in that time signature. It didn’t always go well. Turns out there’s a reason we play certain rhythms the way we do: it’s simplifies the rhythms for the players and makes them recognizable to the listener. I wanted to kind of do away with that in certain pieces. I’ll let the listener decide which ones or if i even succeeded
Each of these pieces tells some kind of story, some of them even have lyrics, though I chose not to sing on this album. A voice always takes center stage and I wanted this album to be about the music. Emergence is the creative process from the void, the chaos of creation, to the emergence of an idea worth keeping. A Far Reach was written as a prayer of sorts, asking the question, “How far does this communication actually reach? the ceiling or all the way to a creator god galaxies, perhaps dimensions apart?” The Wildwood Trail ends the album attempting to connect the warm wonder of nature with the cold mysteries of a wild wood. The final chord on the album is meant to be a question mark to make sure there is no finality, no real ending. These are just some of the things I was imagining while composing and improvising these pieces into existence. Hopefully the music is strong enough to connect in completely different ways to each listener.
All music written, performed, and recorded by Simon Milliman
