The vast open silences of Norway are difficult to reconcile with the chaotic, rat-a-tat reality of living in New York. Bassist Eivind Opsvik has managed to channel these disparate sources into a sensibility that integrates his geographies. Based in Brooklyn for the last three decades, the Oslo-born musician is also a prolific composer spanning genres far beyond the confines of jazz, serving as a sound engineer and producer at Greenwood Underground, which he runs out of his basement, along with his own Loyal Label. He’s also a devoted girl-dad to two young children.
Opsvik’s musical journey began in his own childhood, encouraged by his father, Peter, who in addition to being a furniture designer of some renown, was an amateur jazz saxophonist. After some very early forays into percussion, Eivind progressed to playing guitar, piano and bass in his adolescence, taking to the upright bass while studying classical music at the Norwegian Academy of Music. Opsvik concurrently played with jazz acts, pop at corporate gigs and even formed a drummer-less trio covering Nat King Cole and other classic material.
It was on a vacation to New York in his early 20s with his father, when the duo hit as many jazz clubs as humanly possible, that Opsvik fell in love with the city, rich in musical history. He returned in 1998, enrolling in a graduate program at Manhattan School of Music, this time choosing to study jazz.
Jamming with New York musicians including future bandmates Tony Malaby (saxophone), Jacob Sacks (piano) and Kenny Wollesen (drums), Opsvik laid the groundwork for his long-running project Overseas (guitarist Brandon Seabrook joined in 2010). Over 20 years and five studio and live albums (Overseas I-V), this band would contract and expand, providing a steady outlet for Opsvik to hone his composition and bandleader chops while exploring the feeling of straddling his two homes, an ocean apart. The quintet is heading into the studio this May to record again.
Opsvik’s other enduring collaboration, with songwriter/producer Aaron Jennings, has taken him into the world of what he described as experimental chamber-pop. The duo has recorded four studio albums, Fløyel Files (2005), Commuter Anthems (2007), A Dream I Used to Remember (2009) and Lune (2015), adventuring with a range of analog and digital sounds. Opsvik explained, “Opsvik & Jennings is very much a studio project, which is about finding the right approach, the right sound, the right vibe for each song.”
Other than his regular bandmates, Opsvik spent significant time working in bands led by the late drummer and composer Paul Motian. He has also played with cellist Okkyung Lee’s Yeo-neun, the Nate Wooley Quintet, Tone Collector (with Tony Malaby), Two Miles A Day (with Jacob Sacks and Mat Maneri), Mary Halvorson’s Reverse Blue and Kris Davis’s Capricorn Climber.
For many years Opsvik has carried the seed of a different kind of album, one without any drums or percussion. The Setting, out on Loyal Label February 20, brings in Elias Stemeseder (piano, synths, Wurlitzer, lute-harpsichord) and Will Graefe (guitar, electronics) to add to Opsvik’s bass sensibilities. With the venerable Randall Dunn (Björk, Jim Jarmusch) stepping in as producer, the album refuses to be pigeonholed, traversing styles from dream-synth to contemporary, plush spacious soundscapes to witty hooks. “Hold on Tight to Your Music,” a title inspired by one of his daughters, is playful, with sweet, bright acoustic guitar tones; “The Big Yard” spacey and transportive, with Opsvik’s muted bass rounding it off.
A track like “By the Light of the Moon” wouldn’t be out of place in some interstellar cinematic masterpiece, built slowly over a frenetic background synth. If some tracks hinted of external adventures, others like “Time to Wake Up” and “Sacromonte” point to more inward journeys. The Setting showcases a mature composer at the peak of his abilities, and a canny bandleader who gives each musician the space to fully explore their range.
The following interview has been edited for length and clarity.
How did your parents influence you as an artist and as a human being?
My father was a good saxophone player but it wasn’t his main thing. He was very successful as a furniture designer but he always loved music. He played in a 1930s/’40s kind of jazz band. He was also into Ornette Coleman and had a big record collection, and there was always music around the house. My mother, Kari, was not very musically involved but she was always very supportive of me taking lessons and she could tell that it was my passion.
I grew up in a very creative environment. Some of my father’s friends were kind of jazz legends from the ’60s. Some were very eccentric, so I was always exposed to a lot of different people. I have to say thanks to my parents for always encouraging any ideas I had, in music and [otherwise].
Another memory was a little later when I started playing upright bass. I still have strong memories of my dad’s woodworking area in the basement. He had a reel-to-reel tape player and I used to go down there, where he’d listen to old tapes from the ’60s, one of which was Ornette with Charlie Haden on bass. I have a very clear memory of that.
They told me if I wanted to pursue music I’d have to take it seriously. They made me take classical bass lessons, which I did all through college. Outside of that, I played jazz with friends, and that was a kind of two-laned life. I’m very glad I did that because I’ve had a lot of joy in using the bow. And having that background, it’s been very helpful for me. It made me learn how to read music better. I didn’t really have that formal training or learn to read when I was little.
What was it like cutting your chops in the Oslo jazz scene in the ’90s? Has Norway always had a pretty robust jazz scene?
The ’90s in Oslo was very inspiring. Norwegian jazz found its own way through guys like [saxophonist] Jan Garbarek and [drummer] Jon Christensen, who created a Norwegian sound. Growing up in the ’90s, we knew jazz was an American art form, but the main focus among most people was a Norwegian approach to it.
Most people also listened to classic and contemporary American stuff. So there were two different kinds of things going on. There were a lot of great musicians like [saxophonist] Håkon Kornstad, [drummer] Paal Nilssen-Love and [pianist] Christian Wallumrød coming up at the same time.
How did your New York connection come about?
New York has always been, ever since I was a kid, a little magical in my head. In the early ’80s it was the break-dancing thing. All over Europe, kids got into break-dancing and graffiti. I never did any spraying or anything, but I was really into it. Then when I got deeper into jazz, all the records were made in New York.
When I finally traveled to New York with my father, I just loved the energy. It was totally different from Oslo or anywhere else I’d ever been. I figured the easiest way to come back is to study, so when I was done at the Music Academy, I decided to apply to Manhattan School of Music.
There was a great scene in Norway too and I was happy there, but I dug the energy and diversity of New York. I felt it was good for my psyche too, because maybe in Norway I would become a little lazy. It’s easy to settle into your lane. Here I had to push myself more. That was good for me socially as well, because I was always a little shy and introverted, which doesn’t really work here.
Regarding the Overseas project, you’ve spoken about always being an ocean’s distance away from home. What made you create Overseas back in 2002, and how has it changed or evolved over the years, both as a studio and live project?
When I was 28, I decided I was ready to make my own first record. I’d been toying with different ideas and directions, but I realized by that point what makes me tick and what I’m passionate about. I had my own approach to things because coming from Norway and having that background, there’s more space in the music, maybe, but then playing it with New York musicians created a very cool sound that I was really into.
I decided to collect my favorite musicians at the time. So the first record has two different bands. One had my friends from school, [drummer] Jeff Davis and [saxophonists] Jason Rigby and Loren Stillman. I did another session with more established people like [saxophonist] Tony Malaby, [pianist] Craig Taborn and [drummer] Gerald Cleaver that I had never really played with. I just took a chance and asked them.
After that I started playing live, and it naturally condensed into the band, after a year or two, with Jacob Sacks, Tony Malaby and Kenny Wollesen, who I always loved, and [later] Brandon Seabrook.
What’s next for Overseas?
We’re going to record in May [2026] with two guest percussionists. It’s going to be a very rhythm-heavy and beat-heavy record.
I’m intrigued by the role that images play in your projects, most notably A Thousand Ancestors, which you created in collaboration with [your wife], the Costa Rican-American photographer Michelle Arcila. How did the two of you engage with each other’s mediums, and what was that dynamic like?
Ever since we met, [Michelle and I] have supported and been inspired by each other in our careers. When that project started, I was doing some solo shows for the first time. We had this idea of maybe projecting her photos while I was playing. She was doing some videos and combining that with the photos, and so that became a thing.
Then we wanted to present it as a record. So we made this box set with ten photo prints that correspond to ten of my solo compositions that I recorded. That was a very different way of approaching things, thinking visually and having the photos as inspiration to make the music. Sometimes they went the other way and the music came first. We did some shows after that, but I think maybe that project landed in between because the photo world didn’t know what to do with it, and the music world didn’t know what to do with it. I like that I thrive best in the cracks.
Staying on visual collabs, you asked the Argentine filmmaker Juan Pablo Tristán to create a music video for “By the Light of the Moon,” which is from your new release The Setting. The visuals seem to match the feeling of the music and progression so seamlessly. How did that collaboration come about?
That was a stroke of luck. Juan Pablo emailed me four years ago asking if he could use one of my songs for a short documentary he was doing about photographers in Argentina. I checked out his YouTube channel and I liked his approach, his framing, his lighting, everything.
In that email correspondence, he said that if I ever needed a music video I should let him know. I kept that in mind. When it was time for The Setting to come out, I emailed him about doing the video. I had a feeling that if he gets my music and I get his work, then he would do a great job.
I really loved what he did. He went to Patagonia and shot all kinds of different things. And he came up with the idea to add a poem by Li Po, a Tang Dynasty Chinese poet. I have to say, in the beginning I was a little skeptical. But I love how that came out. Like everything is black-and-white and then the poem comes in yellow, like halfway through, and it’s a really beautiful poem.
How did The Setting come about? You mentioned that it was a seed you were carrying for many years. Could you take us through the origin story and how it blossomed?
I’ve had an idea for starting another type of band for maybe ten years. I did some other gigs with some of the same material with a keyboard player, synth player and a drummer. That was cool but it wasn’t quite what I was looking for. I had all these songs that didn’t feel like they fit with Overseas or with Jennings or anything else. They’re more in the ambient vein or ethereal.
I was inspired by Brian Eno, Daniel Lanois, Bill Frisell and a lot of ECM records, solo guitar like Pat Metheny’s New Chautauqua. I love that sound world. I want to do something like that but drummer-less. I love drums, but sometimes you have to kill your darlings.
It opens up so much space sonically. Also, if you play upright bass with a drummer, you have to amplify it and you kind of lose some of the beauty of the instrument, which sounds the best totally acoustic. If you ask any upright bass player, they’ll say the same thing.
So there’s a lot of space [on The Setting] for the bass and acoustic guitar. I played this session with Elias [Stemeseder]. I knew of him, obviously, but I didn’t really know he was into synthesizers. I had my old synthesizer setup along with a Fender Rhodes but no piano. Right away he was turning knobs. He was so creative and free with it.
I pulled out some of those songs I’d been talking about and I loved what he did with them. Then I’d been talking with Will [Graefe] about playing guitar on it. I knew him a little bit, but I got to know him musically through his Instagram, where he was posting beautiful acoustic guitar videos, making his own compositions.
I got all three of us together in the room and I knew that this was it. We had four rehearsals and a gig before we went into the studio. I decided to hire a producer for the first time in my life, somebody with a fresh set of ears. I’ve always done everything like producing, mixing and mastering, but I felt it was time for me to bring in somebody else and that was Randall Dunn, who’s done a lot of amazing stuff, and he recommended the Applehead Recording studio upstate in Woodstock, New York. He said it was the best sounding room in the state.
It was really helpful to have him there. A lot of the songs were a little floaty before we went into the studio. I wasn’t quite sure about the direction and he suggested we should use the piano much more than I had thought of. I was thinking just synths and guitar and bass. [The piano] opened up some of the songs and they finally made sense.
The synth sound is such a prominent thread running through the whole album. While it opens a realm of glorious sonic possibilities, it can also be a tough sound to tame in some ways. How were you able to get the most out of it and keep it balanced with the acoustic elements that you had?
That’s all mostly on Elias. I brought my equipment but he also has a mini touring setup, small MIDI controllers and two synthesizers that he knows inside and out. He can find the sounds he wants super quickly.
It’s true, it can be hard to combine the acoustic elements of the upright and guitar with the sometimes very in-your-face and abrasive synth sounds. I mean, synths can also be super ethereal too, but he came up with sounds that I would never think of. Also, there’s the way Randall recorded it and mixed it. We were all on the same page with what we were hearing.
Listening to The Setting conjures images of the three of you as explorers, you know, sometimes within or moving through vast landscapes. Could you tell us about your composition process and how you create these musical landscapes?
It’s hard to even tell where it comes from. Like some of these songs, I have no idea how they started. I do tend to compose sometimes with a program called Reason on the computer, which is like a MIDI, you can pull in any sound or imitation of a sound and use it as an inspiration. So it’s easier to get a kind of picture of what it could sound like.
That’s very liberating for me because I don’t think much about music theory when I work like that. I put in notes and I don’t start thinking about harmony and what is “correct” and so on.
The track “Flourishing Flakes,” for example, I wrote back in 2005, and it’s just been on my computer for all those years. I was picturing the beginning almost like an orchestral or choral piece. And then it had this other section that comes in halfway, which is very different. Then I figured, what if I do that beginning choral section on top of the second section? And it worked. With some of the others, they have a visual element or they evoke a feeling, and then I know I’m onto something.
What was your approach as a bass player on The Setting and how did you ensure you served Eivind the composer, while still being true to your own musicality on the instrument?
When I’m a bandleader, the bass playing part is not always at the front of my mind. It’s more the overall picture, the final product. I practiced the songs at home, trying different approaches. I also recorded all the rehearsals and listened back and thought about how the bass should be less busy here, or maybe it should imply more rhythm there. Since there’s no drums, I had to focus more on the bass as the rhythmic anchor point for some of the songs as a forward momentum. I experimented with some new muting techniques, like this stuff I put under the strings to make the attack of the bass very short like the first track, “Corner Song.”
On some other songs I made it sound more like a kalimba or marimba, with a very precise attack, but not a lot of sustain. So that’s thinking more like a drum in a way. It definitely brought out new approaches to playing bass. I had to think a little harder. If there’s a drummer, you can float on what you’ve experienced before. My band in Norway in the ’90s, the Nat King Cole tribute trio, there were no drums in that either… That was very good for me to not rely on drums and still make the band swing. There might be a connection from there to this album.
The album art for The Setting evokes Flemish or Baroque still-life paintings. What was the concept behind it?
I have to give props to Michelle, my wife. I worked with her for all my record covers ever since we met, which was in 2008. I had decided to call it The Setting and I wasn’t necessarily thinking of a table setting or a setting for a meal. I was thinking more cinematic, like what was the setting for this or that scene. But she took it more literally, in a way, and came up with ideas about an over-the-top table setting with cakes and flowers, and I was like, cool, let’s do it.
So we ordered some cheapo fake velvet tablecloths that had the right color. And then we also ordered a fake cake on Etsy. Then we went upstate and did this shoot. We went plant- and flower-shopping and set it up outside…. Michelle had the idea. She did all the art direction and the color matching, and then I have a designer in Norway who always does the packaging and the typography, so it’s always striking.
What’s coming up next for this trio after the release?
We have an album release gig on April 1 at Roulette, and we’re touring Europe in March 2027. I’m also working on a new Overseas album we’re recording in May.
You’ve been putting out albums for decades now. How has the music ecosystem changed in that time? What is it like marketing and selling an album in 2026?
It’s definitely harder than it ever was to make money. It’s almost impossible from a record. Maybe I broke even on some projects, if you measure it just in monetary means. Releasing a record can lead to other opportunities. And so career-wise it’s a good decision. But if you look at what comes in compared to what went out in terms of money, it’s never a good idea.
I still remember iTunes in the early 2010s, you could actually make money from people buying your album digitally, but that’s obviously totally gone. There’s Bandcamp, which has taken over some of it. I always push Bandcamp first more than any other platform… [because] it’s the best platform out there.
Touring has also become harder. We’ll see how it goes touring with The Setting next year in Europe, I’m hoping it’ll be a little easier with the trio than with a quintet. I’m always optimistic, so I’ve decided to make LPs and CDs, and I also printed some t-shirts. I feel like this could appeal [beyond] just the jazz crowd. JT