falcongumba

[falcongumba]

Lesley Mok

Photo by Luke Marantz 

Lesley Mok is an immensely creative drummer, percussionist and composer who works in a wide variety of collaborative ensembles as well as writing music for her own projects. She is also part of Polyfold Musical Arts Collective, a really wonderful group of musicians who have been curating a concert series for musicians to present new works of music as well as running a small record label that already has a sizable catalog.

I’ve only known Lesley for a couple of years, but we have played together a few times in informal sessions and I always admired her original drumming and her strong voice as a composer.

In this discussion we talked about her entire trajectory as a musician as well as some of her upcoming projects and plans.

JT: You’ve told me before that you are originally from the Bay Area but I’m a bit curious about your family’s background. Where are your parents from? What did they do?

LM: Neither of my parents are creative professionals, though I'd consider both of them creative people. I'm a first-generation American, and like many immigrants at the time, both of them had an intense desire to climb the social ladder and make it for themselves in the United States. I think uprooting one's life and moving to an unfamiliar place takes a different kind of creativity--figuring out which bus to take, what to eat, how to communicate...they're cultural challenges that require creative thinking.

JT: And, were they the first ones to steer you into getting music lessons? Or was that something that you wanted on your own?

LM: My mom forced me to take piano lessons, but drum lessons were something I asked for.

JT: Before we get onto the drums. I read on your bio that you also played the flute, correct?

LM: Yes! In my elementary and middle school concert bands.

JT: I imagine studying flute and piano was likely helpful, no? You write a lot of music now.

LM: Definitely - it gave me a  good sense of tonal harmony, or at least what it sounded like and how it might move. It wasn't until recently that I started writing music,  but taking lessons at a young age gave me a lot to work from. It's like learning a language at a young age..you can't really forget it.

JT: That’s amazing! So how did you arrive at the drums originally?

LM: I don't really remember, to be honest, but I took lessons for a few years before joining the middle school jazz band. I would invite friends over to work on songs we learned in school. I was terrified of soloing and I remember wanting to work on trading 4’s so I wouldn’t embarrass myself during rehearsal.

JT: And was it already pretty geared toward a jazz thing? Or were you playing other kinds of music?

LM: I was drawn to jazz from the beginning - it always felt like the music I wanted to play. I wanted to be in a backing band for a singer - my favorite records were with Ella, Billie Holiday, and Nancy Wilson.

JT: What kind of form did that listening take?

LM: One of the first drummers I met, Scott Lowrie, introduced me to a bunch of records like Sonny Rollins Quartet, Sarah Vaughan with Basie, Miles Davis’ First Quintet...He would point out certain things that captured him, like how swinging Philly Joe’s ride cymbal was, or the vibrato in Sarah’s voice, or how relaxed Paul Chamber’s beat was. He would sing along to the drum solos and try to figure out what sticking Philly Joe would more likely play. He introduced to me a listening culture that made me more interested in the music.

JT: What was the transition to Berklee like?

LM: I had started to meet a bunch of other high school musicians in my junior year of high school through programs like the Stanford Jazz Workshop. Everyone could really play, and it inspired me to know that people my age were already so committed to music. I remember Cory Cox and Caili O’Doherty were mentors at the program at the time, and just hearing them play encouraged me to apply to music school.

JT: That’s cool because that's kind of a common thread for a lot of people that I know from the Bay Area. There were all these music camps, and a lot of people went and even if a lot of them didn't end up playing music professionally, they still would end up playing an instrument pretty well and having a really strong appreciation for music.

LM: Yeah, I studied with Akira Tana at the time and I remember he even recommended that I not go to music school; he was like “you should check out these other things”.

I think a lot of my hesitation about going to music school didn't have to do with music itself but how to make a living in music. At that time, coming from a more traditionally minded family, music wasn’t a legitimate practice or career. It wasn’t until college when I built up more confidence and commitment to music.

JT: I remember you telling me that you had a pretty good experience at Berklee.

LM: The first two years at Berklee were a little unstructured and I was sort of confused about how to move forward. I felt lucky to play in a few ensembles that I really enjoyed, including Jason Palmer’s ensemble (my first foray into odd meters and original music) and Ralph Peterson’s Art Blakey ensemble, but I didn’t have high enough ratings to get into some other ensembles. (Those of you who are familiar with Berklee’s rating system can maybe empathize!). I felt a bit discouraged with navigating what felt like a bureaucratic system.

In my third year, I applied to this program called the Berklee Global Jazz Institute, led by Danilo Perez and Marco Pignataro. I didn't get in my first time around, but then I think it was in my sixth semester or something I auditioned again and got in. That program was really significant for me.

Global gave me some clarity in my practice and I was able to prioritize my learning. It was also during this time when I started to think about bigger questions, not just how to play the drums and music, but you know...how to play music in a culturally and socially informed way.

JT: And what were some of the breakthroughs? Was there a teacher that was particularly empowering? Or was it just the benefit of being in the program?

LM: The program itself was very empowering, but Danilo, Terri Lynne Carrington and Ben Street were the three teachers that really influenced me. Bob Gullotti was also enormously influential as a teacher. We would work on playing Bird heads around the drums. He was so thorough with the way he thought about dynamics, articulation, and tambor, and if he didn’t feel like you played the essence of the melody, he would ask you to work on the same thing for the following week. I hadn’t thought much about drumming outside of a rhythmic and linguistic context up until that point so those lessons were super transformative. Bob would play every Monday night at the Fringe--I remember hearing him take a solo on sticks on a ballad at like 40bpm, and being like, “Holy shit, I want to be able to do that.” Bob passed away just last year--he was a completely dedicated teacher and I will always treasure our time together.

JT: When did you move to NY?

LM: I moved in September of 2017.

JT: Okay. And did you move because you felt that New York was a center for this music? Or was there another reason?

LM: There was never much doubt in my mind about moving to New York after school. I travelled between Boston and New York pretty often while I was in school to take lessons or see shows, so after I finished my final year at Berklee I moved here.

JT: There's usually all these logistical and life challenges moving here the first year. How did that affect you? Were you able to get to music right away? Or was there an adjustment period?

LM: It was a tremendous life change. I applied for a bunch of jobs the first week I moved here, and ended up working at a small entertainment law firm for about four months..that's how long I lasted! (Haha) It was super gruesome and I was pretty miserable. I was in the office for nine hours a day, and would head to my studio every day at 6pm and practice until 10pm or so. I would plan sessions on weekends or weeknights after work. Oddly enough, I think I practiced the most when I had that job just because I knew I had to structure my time really well.

It was an emotionally tough time, but it really made me question what was important to me. I think I was scared of what it meant to be a working musician but after working at the law firm, I knew it wasn't something I could do--my body and mind just rejected it. After I quit my job I felt like I had control over my own time and free will, and it was then that I really started pursuing music more fearlessly.

JT: Yeah, I feel like there’s a huge character building that happens in that first year and then the following years almost get easier by contrast or something.

LM: I’m definitely less stressed out than I was that first year. There are always challenges and self-doubt, but I feel like I can return to familiar rooms in my mind and trust that I’ll overcome the moment.

That said, I still worry all the time if my music’s any good, if anyone resonates with it, and if other people like playing with me, etc. (Haha)

JT: And in those first couple of years were you already able to find some people to play with or did it take some time?

LM: I was playing with a lot of really great musicians, but the more I questioned my own artistic values, the more I was able to also find a community of people I resonated with emotionally and artistically. I also moved to Bushwick in November 2018 and started playing with people with completely different value systems. To be honest, I couldn’t relate at first. I heard Weasel Walter for the first time and remember thinking how weird and overwhelmed and intrigued I felt. There’s a record he’s on with Mary Halvorson and Peter Evans, and there are long stretches of time where he doesn’t play anything I can identify as a sound from the drum set. Hearing him along with other musicians like Brandon Lopez and Matteo Liberatore made me think consciously about all the musical choices I can make in any given moment. My first year living in Bushwick felt like everything I had known and felt about music was flipped upside down. I had to learn to engage with creative music beyond the ride cymbal being the main timbral focus...beyond jazz.

JT: I remember you telling me that you didn't start writing your own compositions right away.

LM: Yeah, I didn't really start writing until the end of 2018 with my band The Living Collection. It's funny to think that my first foray into writing was for a large chamber-like ensemble because I feel like I still have huge gaps in my knowledge of harmony and traditional compositional methods.

But it's something that also I think freed me from thinking I had to do a certain thing or compose in a certain way. I learned so much through trial and error...I'd have the flute in one octave and then have bass clarinet in another octave only to realize that the flute was barely audible. I had random mistakes in my chart, or very inconvenient ways of writing things, or literally impossible parts to play, so it was really trial by fire. But I think I learned through having a supportive group of friends for a band who would share their thoughts with me, and criticisms as well.

JT: I think I listened to everything there is currently available from that band. The music is really beautiful. I was wondering what is your concept for the music of the group?

LM: I think it's changed a lot. Some of the first compositions we played had many independent, moving parts. I was drawing a lot of inspiration from Henry Threadgill at that time. I was writing entirely notated music at one point, after listening to more contemporary classical composers like [Helmut] Lachenmann. Recently I’ve been thinking more about the idea of musical democracy and non-hierarchical ways of playing, improvisation being a vehicle for these social-cultural processes involved: spirituality, community-as-oneness, and communal joy. I hope to establish a context in which everyone can participate in music as a necessary ritualistic function.

JT: That brings me to the work that you've been doing with Polyfold Musical Arts Collective. How did it come about and how did you all start fleshing out these ideas?

LM: Well, I'm the newest member of Polyfold. The collective originally started in Detroit and consisted of 20-something musicians. It took on a new shape when a few of its members moved to Brooklyn in 2017, so the current membership includes myself, Yuma Uesaka, Alex Levine, and Ben Rolston. The idea is basically to expand opportunities for improvisers to create original music. That usually takes the form of a monthly concert series, something we call Polyfold Presents, but we’ve also put together these “Sunday Salons,” informal workshops where people can bring their music or share ideas they’re exploring. The idea comes from something Geri Allen used to do with her students. We recently have been working on our record label...your record was actually the first we put out in awhile! So thank you for all your work on that.

*Lesley adds: (Juanma’s band was originally scheduled to perform at the April concert series, but when COVID hit, we commissioned him along with the other artists that we scheduled to perform, to perform a creative work of any kind. He ended up recording four full-length compositions remotely with his band. It was so well recorded and the process was so representative of the moment that we decided to put it out on the label. Check it out - ‘Folklore’ by Juanma Trujillo.)

JT: How, would you describe the role that you have in the collective?

LM: It's hard to say, the structure and the nature of the organization has changed over time, our roles kind of shift as we go. I just worked on writing the last grant. Trying to put into words what exactly is it we do and making sure we're holding ourselves accountable for those things.

JT: Has being part of this initiative been rewarding in a way that you didn't expect? Has it helped you see things in a different way?

LM: Yeah, for sure. It’s made me realize how important and powerful organizing is for the improvised music community and how we all sort of depend on each other.

JT: Yeah, I think I wanted to get your input on that because I’ve been kind of pleasantly surprised to see that you guys as a group of artists who are already playing together and are good friends are also welcoming people from outside your circle. In my time living here I can confidently say that this is somewhat rare.

LM: Yeah..I hope it becomes less rare. I've met some people that have really made it feel like home here.

I think it’s hard to feel a sense of community in a place like New York, where artists-entrepreneurs are constantly up against so many things. It seems like everyone’s competing for the same opportunities.

I think community building starts on a personal level...who you hang out with or talk to, who’s in your band, what kind of bills you’re curating if you’re a bandleader. All of these things are part of what makes a community. The 501c3 is just a status.

JT: So we’ve talked about your main projects, but I can also see that you're doing quite a bit of one off gigs with people just improvising. How has that been helpful in your development?

LM: I often feel like there's a lot of pressure to play written music or to present something really polished, which I also enjoy, but it’s nice to get to know someone intimately without the pressure of following a specific musical format. It’s really invigorating getting to know their musical perspective in an open space and forming a connection.

Depending on the improvisational context, I sometimes feel that there’s nothing I wish to contribute on the drum set. It’s encouraged me to work on different techniques that might produce different sounds and timbres and to search for percussion instruments that might give me a broader range of expression. My dream is to build a drum cage like the one in that iconic photo with Roscoe Mitchell!

JT: Are there any of the other projects that you have that you would like to talk about or mention any other experiences that have been meaningful to you recently?

LM: I recently spent two weeks in Newton, MA with my good friends Maya and Akiva. We had no agenda other than to play music if we felt like it. It was one of the more intimate and spiritually fulfilling experiences I’ve had in awhile. The music felt like an extension of our cooking together, our swims in the lake, our humming. I listened back to some of the recordings we made a few days ago...it feels both personal and non-precious. It reminds me of these words by Nicole Mitchell--

“If you practice your connection to the stars enough, you can go anytime you please. The Dogon mastered it, but the shoebox architects sold kids on rap videos over stargazing. Doesn’t matter how much pollution, or how many ceilings or drones are flying above, the stars are there. I promise. No wonder Lightin’ Hopkins, Jeff Parker, Jimi Hendrix and all the bluesmen made their own vessel guitars to communicate here. And ever better, I’m tellin’ you, there are no consequences, no punishments and no side effects except joy and more strength. Can you imagine? I’m thinking, maybe we can build a bridge from pain to hope and insight and take all our families there.”

JT: Thank you Lesley!

LM: Yeah, thanks so much for doing this.

You can learn more about Lesley on her website: https://www.lesleymok.com/

Lesley has all her releases available on: https://lesleymok.bandcamp.com/

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Nick Grinder

Photo by Desmond White

Nick Grinder is a Trombonist and composer living in NYC by way of the Bay Area. In this first installment of the blog I wanted to interview someone that I know well, I met Nick in my first year of college back in 2009, we were roommates for three out of four years of school and I’ve played with him more times than I can remember, he’s also one of my best friends and an important peer in the community. So I didn’t have to do much research to feel prepared for this interview. 

Since moving to NYC, Nick has managed to maintain a busy schedule as a freelance trombonist and participate in an ever-growing list of ensembles, secure positions in Broadway orchestras, play in recording sessions. Most recently, he has started to get some notice for his own work: His most recent album, Farallon (in which I play guitar), has been very well received. 

I wanted to get some insight into Nick’s professional development in the last few years as well as into his creative process. 

JT: So Farallon has been well received, I know it was a lot of work for you over a few years to get it done. How does it feel now that you are on the other side and the outcome has been mostly positive? 

NG: It feels good. I was really happy with how everyone interpreted the music, and the studio experience was really relaxed and natural. Just the sound Chris at Big Orange Sheep (studio in Brooklyn) got was really beautiful, and sort of was a perfect match for the music if that makes sense. In a way, it almost informed how we played over those two days, and I think vice versa. I didn’t go into the album as being a motive piece on The Farallon islands, it was really just a collection of tunes I had written over the years that made the cut, so to speak. It feels good to have moved on from that music, as I think it will free me up to write more in the present. I think if we don’t have markers, it’s hard to move on as an artist. I find myself writing the same tune over and over if I don’t record or perform enough to get it out of my system.

JT: That makes sense, so in that regard, how do you see Farallon in contrast to Ten Minutes (Nick’s first release)? Do you see it as an expansion on stuff you were working on back then or a departure from it? 

NG: I think it’s....an evolution, and in a way, I think Farallon is much less compositionally complex, but a bit more cohesive. I thought back on Ten Minutes the other day, and how some of the tunes were actually pretty good, and more in the “jazz” idiom, whatever that means nowadays. Sometimes I feel that writing harmony can box in creativity in a way, partially because pianistic interpretations can harken back to so much other music. I feel harmonically, Ten Minutes was a bit more complex than Farallon, but Farallon is more open. Part of that was you, Juan, and the fact that the guitar is such a different instrument than piano and doesn’t dominate the texture as much. So, to answer your question...I think it’s an extension and evolution. For the next one, it would be nice to really change things up. We’ll see. I try not to have a directive like that when I create, or at least not listen to it so much. It can be a good spark to start writing, but once things flow, you have to follow that.

JT: Yeah that’s definitely true. I’m really envious of how pianists have this power of making everything sound fully orchestrated and just make so much color with harmony. But lately, I think that what I like about playing the guitar is sort of embracing that it won’t make everything sound as full as a piano but that in a lot of other ways it can kinda expand the scope of the music by just filling a variety of roles

NG: Yeah, I think it’s one of the real positives of guitar, and in a way, I’d imagine that while that is a bit more limiting, there’s probably more musical freedom in that. Kind of an interesting catch-22 maybe?

JT: Well your limitations are as much a part of what you end up making as your abilities, even if you play the piano.

I know you’ve always played the piano is this still the main way you write music? Can you tell me a bit about how that process works for you? I’ve played a lot of your tunes over the years but I’ve never actually seen how you compose. 

NG: Right, I don’t mean anything I’ve said as a dig on piano or piano players -  it’s just interesting as a concept as you said - too much freedom of choice can sometimes box one in. 

I write music any way that works....at the piano, at the trombone, or just with paper or Sibelius. Usually, I try to write harmonically complex music at the piano, just to hear and expand on what I’m hearing in that way, but that can sometimes be limited by my piano playing, and tendencies my piano playing has. I wrote the tune Farallon completely at the piano, and actually think it works better without any horns. My ear isn’t fantastic, so usually what I write on paper ends up being rhythmic ideas that I sus out on the horn or the piano. Sometimes I sing ideas into my phone on the train. Writing with Sibelius can be nice because you can hear what you write immediately, but the danger of that is you start writing for the computer - what sounds good on a machine might not sound good with people and vice versa.

I’ve definitely thought that something I wrote with Sibelius was the hippest shit ever, and after hearing people play it I realized something was missing, and I think it was sort of a casualty of that process.

JT: I understand that completely. It can be very convenient but that’s totally a risk of it. How do you think your own compositions have impacted your playing? Do you see these two things as being related? Are you writing to maybe expand what you can play on the horn or your horn playing is evolving because of what you write?

NG: I’d like to think it’s both. One of the things about writing outside of your instrument is that you have to learn what you wrote, which was the case for 5 Steps and some of the other note-y heads I’ve written. Rarely do I do those on the trombone. That head specifically was really hard for me to learn and ended up being a great thing to practice. I definitely remember writing harmony that I felt comfortable with improvising over, but it’s something I don’t consciously do often because I don’t feel I have a ton of skills in that arena I can showcase. Farallon, for example, is really difficult to improvise on, at least for me.  I really try to let the song do its thing when I’m writing it, and not impose my own will on it too much.

JT: That’s interesting, and it makes sense to me. One of the things that I love about the album is that it doesn’t seem like you wrote the music with the intent to “showcase” the trombone, or actually anyone else. That’s really mature and I don’t think you made a conscious effort to do that, am I wrong? 

NG: Thanks. That wasn’t intentional, but that also might have something to do with my relative lack of skills like that on the instrument...

JT: Oh Come on (laughs) You do make a living playing the Trombone…

NG: Ha, but the skills needed for that are different than the virtuosic stuff so many people are doing!

JT: Ok so that makes me wonder, how are you structuring your instrumental practice? what are some of the things you are going after in your playing? I know that it must be a difficult balance to find with all the different things that you have to do

NG: I’m thinking really broadly about my sound and when I attack the note and how clear that is - lining up my best sound with an attack that is in time, and clear. I do a lot of work relating to that with a metronome and tuner, and kind of just start from square one every day. Breathing, buzzing, long tones, slurs, those all help with that “prime directive” I have about time and attack.  There’s a lot of that sort of work needed with the trombone, at least I find that it helps. I am though, always trying to find ways to make that sort of maintenance musical - sometimes I start the day just improvising, really trying to feel what my chops require to be in a good place, to have that immediacy. Sometimes those are my best days on the horn. 

I need about 45 minutes to an hour to feel good for the day, and if I’m getting a good session in, I can do about 3-4 hours before I really need a break. A lot of that is exercises, scales, and patterns with a metronome and drone, and then improvising. I’ll take a tune or a set of changes through a few different keys and tempos, then work on Rochut or Bach. By then it will be about 3 hours, especially considering that I do a lot of similar exercises on bass trombone as well.

JT: The trombone is an instrument (just like any brass) that without that sense of keeping up with a regime of calisthenics your sort of starting baseline for just being able to play kinda goes away no? I remember a while back we were hanging with a saxophone player friend of ours and he was talking about all this advanced stuff he was working on, and you saying "I'm just trying to play in time man!" haha. I guess where I'm going with this is that in a way to me there's something really great and beautiful about that challenge of being confronted with the basics constantly, but I wonder if that's exhausting or mentally taxing for you and you wanna be working on some other stuff?

NG: Yeah, it absolutely is humbling and can be frustrating at times. And I think it was playing in tune! But playing in tune and in time is so challenging. When I came to New York I realized how dialed in older more experienced people was with just the “basics,” and how particular that sort of thing can be. I had a recording session a few months ago with some heavy people, I had no business being there really, and it happened to start at 7 am on a Sunday! From the first notes, the band of 18 people was just locked in. There was no question as to where time and pitch was, and I thought I was sticking out like a sore thumb. This was very “easy” music, but to play it at such a high level was really challenging. That instance is sort of a micro chasm for my attitude towards practicing. I sometimes go too far with “basics” stuff and feel I should be pushing myself more, at times, but the bread and butter of what I do I feel lay with that stuff.

JT: I understand that and, as an observer, I think that your work ethic in that regard is precisely why you’ve been finding yourself in so-called “places you have no business being in” more and more. I think that people know that you will take those things seriously even if you think that in some ways you are falling short. After all, we all want the music to sound great but finding people who are gonna take your project seriously and work at it is as important as finding someone who can play the music.

NG: I totally agree with what you’ve said. I think there’s a lot of luck and knowing when to talk and when not to talk. The whole thing about “not being an asshole” is really prescient! I remember talking to a really great musician about finding the right band, and he said it was so much more about finding that fit and people who care about your music than things like fame, etc. The more comfortable you are the better the music will sound. That’s what was so nice about being in the studio with you guys - it was really comfortable and while we got a ton done, it didn’t feel taxing because it was so relaxed and efficient.

JT: Same here. I wanted to ask you how you are managing all the different things you have to do these days? On top of being a busy freelancer, you have a pretty steady schedule on Broadway now. (The Broadway show Nick was playing, “Beautiful,” has since closed.)

NG: I’m trying to figure it out, but mostly still flying by the seat of my pants. The show has finally given a bit of financial stability, which is almost unheard of for freelance musician types, so I’m trying to capitalize on that to have designated creative time. I have managed to write a bit more since I got the show, and I have also been taking days off just to go hear music, which was something I was always felt too burnt out to do.  I still do everything I can to put creatively fulfilling gigs at the front and center, and I’m hoping that the show can actually help with that.  If I can get through every day having practiced, and through each week doing some creative listening/writing, I’ll be in a good place. That’s the goal for now with a lot of room for expansion.

JT: What are some of your goals for this next phase after this album? I know that you have some new music for a quartet that played recently

NG: I actually had a gig with interesting instrumentation shortly after we recorded the album - violin, flute, and trombone with rhythm section. I want to write some music for that group, and really get some orchestrations happening that highlight the “softer” iterations of the trombone, especially with mutes. There are so many different colors and textures one can get with mutes and other instruments.

And yes, we had a gig with a new quartet. That was a lot of fun. I might want to add a piano to that at some point, I’ve been hearing that for my next thing.

JT: That's great and I look forward to hearing all those projects. I think we did it! Unless you wanna add anything. But, I just wanted to say that it has been really great to see you grow and thrive over the years cause at this point you are one of the very few people I have around that I really came up with, very proud and happy for you!

NG: Man, thank you! I hope you know you have been a huge driver of creativity for me and an enormously positive influence on my music-making ever since we met. I think you’ve been like that for most people you’ve known who are musicians! So thank you for that. I admire your commitment to your sound and how you are always creating. It really is inspiring. 

There is one thing I’d like to add: The jazz world is very small, but even amongst its size, I worry we aren’t realizing how expensive it is to record and promote music, and how that can kind of skew who gets to make music and have it recognized. My relative success in the commercial field of music (and my willingness to accept massive amounts of credit card debt) really made the album a reality. So many truly amazing musicians and composers aren’t in that position, and their work really deserves to be heard. 

Releasing music is a massive amount of sacrifice and work no matter how much money you have, but I think it would behoove the art form and especially the gatekeepers of “fame/recognition” to consider even those recordings not on a label, not with a “big name” sideman and not in CD form. It’s understandable that there’s a ton of music to wade through, but there are stories that deserve to be heard and promoted that under the current model fall by the wayside. 

Ok, rant over. Thank you Juan!

JT: Yes!!! Amen and thank you. Love ya 

You can learn more about Nick on his website: https://www.nickgrinder.com/

Both of Nick’s releases are available in his Bandcamp page: https://nickgrinder.bandcamp.com/