When Jacob Garchik isn’t busy with the intricacy of guitarist Mary Halvorson’s Amaryllis ensemble or crafting pared-to-the-bone arrangements for the Kronos Quartet, the trombonist-composer is adrift in memory’s bliss with his own complex album projects: works from Ye Olde that run from medieval times through to a sci-fi future, and solo efforts studying and questioning The Heavens.
His new album Ye Olde 2: At the End of Time (Yestereve Records) finds Garchik and crew split into rival triple-guitar factions, only now as resurrected versions of themselves billions of years after their first collective deaths.
Based on the notions of the quizzical Omega Point theory and sounding not unlike early, skronky Weather Report playing Tales of Topographic Oceans by Yes, only angrier, this music proves once again that nothing Garchik does is simple — and you wouldn’t have it any other way.
JazzTimes caught up with Garchik in Los Angeles (via Zoom) for a conversation about the cosmos, Kronos, Mary Halvorson, his reading lists and more.
Having followed your work, I’m always enthused by the fact that you’re an avid reader. Considering that so much of what you do is influenced by what you read, what do you think would happen, maybe, if you could not read? Or maybe had a steady diet of reading stuff like Twilight or Chicken Soup for the Soul?
[laughs] Let me think about that.
How about this: The big stories that fill your albums aren’t strictly narrative stuff — they are backstories meant to frame the music. But they’re pretty wild stories. When you are composing, is it the basic storyline that comes before the music or is it the other way around?
This album had a start point in me wanting to make something about the Omega Point theory which I read about 20 years ago. I always loved that name. I came up with this basic story of an alternate band — there’s Ye Olde and Simalcrus — a resurrected band, and then wrote the music loosely around that concept.
So it was both. It wasn’t as if I was thinking of the story and the music separately or that one song would illustrate one concept of the story. The music was evocative of the mood of the story. I usually sequence the songs and title them at the end of the process, something I could mold to the story.
And the question about reading you asked earlier? The thing is that I am very influenced by pop culture, television and movies, along with what I read. Perhaps, then, if there were no books, my work would be all about Scooby-Doo or old Buck Rogers episodes. All of that inspires me — trashy stuff too. It’s never a guilty pleasure with me. I actually like it.
The last time you spoke with JazzTimes, you were more about deconstructing the jazz recording process with the Assembly album. And you’ve also explored spirituality on The Heavens: The Atheist Gospel Trombone Album. It’s clear that Ye Olde 2 is based on the idea of resurrection, not a solely Catholic notion, but close to it. Do you feel as if, spiritually, you have found what you were looking for?
Maybe I’m asking questions, or poking fun, but I’m not really looking for any profound meaning or purpose. I leave that to other people. I don’t believe that my feelings (about God) have changed since making The Heavens. But the Omega Point theory was originally proposed by a priest as a religious theory — real dogma — regarding a resurrection. He was trying to thread the needle and be both scientific and religious at the same time. Perhaps my record points to the absurdity of that, and is in line with my atheist gospel album.
Why is the trombone the proper instrument, or vessel, to mount those challenges, as opposed to the accordion, which you also play?
There is a sense of absurdity to a trombone leading a rock band as opposed to a singer. If we’re looking at religion, the trombone has long been associated with religion and religious music. It fits well with the concept of holiness. And we do play one piece from the 16th century that is liturgical. The trombone is just me, my voice. No matter what I’m doing, my album will have a trombone on it.
There are two bands led by you, each playing against their resurrected selves in a cosmic duel — the double guitar groups, Ye Olde and Simalcrus — each featuring different musicians. Can you tell me about casting the album? You even give everyone special titles, including yourself, the Barrel Maker. What made Brandon Seabrook [the Trickling Stream], Mary Halvorson [the Guardian of the Rock] and Jonathan Goldberger [the Mountain of Gold] right for Ye Olde, and guitarists Ava Mendoza [the Mountain of Ice], Sean Moran [the Great Chieftain] and Miles Okazaki [the Rocky Headlands] right for Simalcrus?
I originally put together Ye Olde because I loved the personalities of the guitar players — they were all so individual. They’re always in that same world of experimental jazz, rock, whatever, yet so different from each other. Then I started thinking about other players who had their own great and distinct voices. And Ava Mendoza has subbed as part of Ye Olde as well. It was more about me adding more personalities to the mix — about having a bizarro world division of Ye Olde.
We spoke with Mary Halvorson just weeks ago and she was enthused about your role in her music and vice versa. What’s your take on working with her?
I’ve known Mary for a long time. I think we met around 20 or more years ago, maybe 25, when she arrived in New York. I was there already, a little bit older than her, and I saw her playing with a band, the Friendly Bears, this prog-jazz rock band. So the first time I saw her she was playing this rocked out, weird complicated music. I had this band that never recorded anything, Yore, and some of the music I wrote there went to her.
Then I became part of her septet and I was just struck by her compositional voice. I think of her as a modern-day Thelonious Monk in that her compositions are very highly structured, interesting, catchy, memorable melodies that just stick with you. And she’s always exploring form.
The stuff with Amaryllis, in particular, has chord changes in the jazz tradition, but is structured with her own techniques and in her own way. As I composer myself, I analyze what she does, turn it all inside out and gather info for my own pieces. I wind up thinking, “How does she do that?” and “Why did she choose that there?” I analyze her stuff while I am on her bandstand and I find it all very satisfying and amazingly constructed. She has a compelling sound as a player, very quick thinking, always striving to do that which she has never done before.
Your work is equally complex and intricately wound, but the arranging work for Kronos Quartet is lean and minimalistic, delicate even. Were you looking for an outfit such as theirs to balance your maximalism? How and why is this a thing between you and Kronos?
With Kronos, I try to get out of the way because I want them to shine. I don’t want it to be like, “Oh, this is Garchik showing off his arranging skills.” It’s not effective, especially when you consider what a Kronos concert or recording is, which is a mixture of their originals and newly arranged compositions from other writers. It’s the composers who really need to shine.
It’s not like Nelson Riddle arranging for Frank Sinatra where he has all of these fantastical introductions with exquisite orchestration and you walk away commenting on how wonderful Riddle is. I want to be in the background with Kronos, like seamlessly in the shadow where the original compositions are clearly heard and the ensemble shines.
For my own music, I want to have fun, be extroverted and let my whole personality show through. Considering that I’m drawing from a whole lot of diverse sources, maybe I throw in more stuff than a typical jazz composer might throw in.
What music did you come up with as a kid?
I was into the Beatles, Hendrix and Led Zeppelin, before I got into some Yes. I wasn’t really into obscure prog-rock bands or anything like that. When I was in high school in 1991, though, I got into Primus, Fishbone, Mr. Bungle — they were the coolest alternative bands that I could hear in San Francisco.
I got into funk acts like James Brown, Sly Stone, and P-Funk until I landed at ’70s-era Miles Davis stuff, which I love, before l got into Weather Report and Wayne Shorter. And Ennio Morricone soundtracks from the ’70s — The Exorcist 2, for example, edgy stuff with a groove.
Was there any one track on Ye Olde 2 that started the ball rolling?
“One Can Only Go Up.” I worked a bunch on that. The idea of a steady stream of notes from each guitar player and their alternative selves — that was my idea and I had to find ways to make it work. Once I realized how that would go up, then I made it happen so that the other one would go down. One slow, one fast. One was a spooky one, one not so spooky.
What do you have your eye on next?
I’m still working on the thing I’ve been working for a while now, my solo trombone project. I want it to be interesting, unique and something I’ve never done before in presenting myself with zero accompaniment. JT