birth, death, mountains, ants - conversation with David Moore
brittle feedback / wingtips on the mountaintop, grazing the bell
good morning ~
(click the link / beach sunset to listen)

today’s track is another brittle parfait of overblown guitar swells
thank you for the excitement on the Thayer / Seretan duo album we just announced, much more to come :)
Today's newsletter features a conversation with pianist and composer David Moore, a longtime favorite of mine whose work as Bing & Ruth is totally essential, absolutely lovely music. He's also a member of the jambient supergroup Cowboy Sadness. His new album - Graze the Bell - is a monumental work of huge solo piano out tomorrow on RVNG (literally a huge piano - we talk about it).

My Big Break: I have one specific question I was hoping to start with because it’s of personal interest to me. The title - Graze the Bell - very evocative…it reminds me so much of that one Built to Spill song, “Randy Described Eternity.” Do you know that song?
David Moore: I don’t!
MBB: Okay cool, I’m going to read the lyrics to you and get your reaction.
Every thousand years
This metal sphere
Ten times the size of Jupiter
Floats just a few yards past the earth
You climb on your roof
And take a swipe at it
With a single feather
Hit it once every thousand years
'Til you've worn it down
To the size of a pea
Yeah I'd say that's a long time
But it's only half a blink
In the place you're gonna be
Where you gonna be
Where will you spend eternity
I'm gonna be perfect from now on
The lore behind it is that Doug Martsch heard a Christian youth group leader say this.
DM: I was going to ask because I heard it, too. The story I heard was when you’re trying to imagine what eternity feels like, you should imagine the biggest mountain you’ve ever seen. And every 10,000 years a bird flies over it and just slightly hits the tip of its wing on the top of the mountain. By the time that mountain is ground to dust, that is only the beginning of eternity.
MBB: Yeah! That was something I was really hearing in the music. And knowing a little bit about your devoted, monastic practice in running and in composing - I’m just wondering about your thoughts on perfection, eternity, striving, and enlightenment.
DM: What a beautiful question - you’re dead on. I don’t think I had previously made the connection between that imagery and the title of the album, but it’s definitely something I was thinking about. The title: it just came to me one day and I didn’t understand what it meant, but it just stuck around. Sometimes things do that, you know, like a roommate’s boyfriend. It just shows up one day and you’re just like, okay, we’re here now…
But it provided a structure for me when I was going through a difficult period, something you might call a midlife crisis. Part of having a midlife crisis is denying you’re having one and instead finding some existential reason you’re questioning everything in your life. But for me it became this container I could sort of put this feeling in. My whole life there was this idea that I had to accomplish something, and that everything I did was a part of this project that was bringing me closer to something. I had this moment where I thought - what if that’s not what it actually is? What if this is all it is? It’s everyday. And once I put that into context for myself…and I stopped worrying about this vague mountaintop I was trying to reach…and I started focusing on being present in every moment and doing the things I felt compelled to do, everything just changed for me. The color of the world just…shifted. I became so much less anxious, I became so much more clear. When I think back to my 20s and my 30s I’m proud of the things I did, but I’m also so happy and relieved that I’ve come to this place, that I can live the second half of my life - or whatever God wants to give me - from here.
With the record, you know, there was a false start - I showed up to a studio and the instrument was just totally not prepared for recording. It was a big disappointment, but it got me a couple of extra months to tweak on it. I looooooove tweaking things.
MBB: Yeah, some would say you’re a tweaker.
DM: I am a tweaker. Yes, absolutely. [laughter]
To your question about perfection - I have become staunchly anti-perfectionist. You could probably describe my disposition as perfectionist for a long time, but I am just so bored with it. We have more technology to create perfection than ever before, we’re closer to perfection now than we’ve ever been and god! It’s never been so boring!
MBB: This is so interesting to me, because in a lot of your work you’re playing with the idea of human, physical limits, writing these intricate, repetitive pieces that are impossible to play quote unquote perfectly. And if you did want to play them precisely as written, you could just pop them into a midi roll or a player piano instead. This is what minimalism is at its core, your inability to achieve fully the thing you set out for yourself in composition is where you hear the human touch, that’s the whole compelling thing about repetition. Your Farfisa playing is even more this way - super crawly, hand-fatiguing music. Is perfection hitting the metronome exactly right? No, that’s what a computer does. And now you’ve broken through in a way, you’re on the other side of it - this album has so much breath and space and silence.
DM: Right, because I have space to do it. It’s just me. It’s probably best to describe it in sports terms: to me, the most interesting part of watching a basketball game is what happens between a player letting go of the ball and it going into the net. That’s what is interesting to me about art, too - it’s not “what can you do,” it’s “what do you think you can do.”
MBB: Right, you’ve got to subtract the corporeal from the score.
DM: It’s gotta feel dangerous! I’m not going to call them out because they’re friends of mine, but I have these friends who have had a band for a really long time, and I don’t know how to tell them that I don’t like their band. They’re all incredible musicians, some of the best in the world. But the music is so boring because there’s no danger, no mystery, no “do you think they’re gonna make it.” Even Coltrane! Sometimes you’ll listen to him and it’s like, you’re John Coltrane and I’m not even sure you’re going to make it. That’s what’s exciting. If you’re really good at your instrument, playing it safe sounds totally different. I’d rather hear somebody who doesn’t really know what they’re doing try and play Ravel than somebody who has total, assured mastery.
MBB: What’s the most dangerous part of this music?
DM: For me, the danger was introduced with how I structured the songs going into the recording. It was important to me that they were composed, but that there were gaps that I figured out in the moment. Some songs I didn’t have a set form and there’d constantly be this hovering sense of “is it gonna go here, is it gonna go there.” And we recorded it really differently than usual - normally I’d only do maybe 3 takes of a song, but for this album I was doing many takes of every song across the two days, playing them in wildly different ways. So for me that’s where the danger comes in. I don’t know if you hear it in that way, necessarily, but I like to think that you can feel it.
I was also really trying to use the range of the instrument in such a way where there’d be some unexpected effects.
MBB: Yeah, you get really deep in the mud on a few points! It’s a part of the piano I never even venture towards, those low notes are always outta tune anyway.
DM: Well, we did some crazy stuff with the low end of the piano just to try and….capture what the instrument was putting out.
MBB: When you were mixing these performances, did you want to replicate what you hear at the piano, or were you thinking more of an audience perspective? Where were you centering your ears?
DM: I wanted it to feel like you were INSIDE of the piano, that was the goal. Often the approach for recording piano is distance, a little room, a little reverb, but as a performer, you know, you get the best seat in the house. It’s always a little difficult to hear what a piano sounds like when your head is right in it. Then you hear it on a recording and it’s like, that’s Niagara Falls and that’s a picture of Niagara Falls [laughter].
MBB: It’s so tough because there is this really magic language of touch and resonance that happens when you’re seated at piano - through your fingertips and your whole body, you feel the vibrations that you’re eliciting from the piano. It’s talking back to you in this deep, haptic way that really feels like a conversation. And then you listen back to what you recorded and it’s like, oh, these are just notes.
DM: The piano is also playing you - you are receiving vibrations back from it. It’s a loop, you can get caught in it. To get from the natural sound of a piano in a room to the natural sound of a piano on a recording, you usually have to take a really out-of-the-way route, doing weird things to reproduce that loop of vibrations. It’s a trip! Particularly a large, concert grand piano - huge instruments, thousands of pounds of pressure, eight-foot-long strings, and there’s ten of them vibrating at a time, and they’re pushing out into you and you’re pushing back into them…
MBB: Yeah, let’s talk about the Model D. What’s your history with that instrument? And if you play this music live are you going to have to insist on them having one?
DM: I don’t have a particular allegiance to the Steinway Model D, though it is the classic, like, Rolls Royce of classical pianos - it’s the one. I’m usually more of a Bechstein man but they can be hard to come by. But I am very passionate about this particular piano we recorded this on.
Fun trivia fact - this has been my favorite piano for a very long time and we recorded “Tomorrow Was the Golden Age” on this piano. It’s got these really thick walls, it was made in Hamburg in 1987. They’ve actually got two Steinway Ds at the studio, but the owner is always so happy when I want to play this one. This instrument is so much, it’s a lot. And if you don’t get to know it, it can just get really unruly. That’s really a 9-foot thing. Seven feet of piano? You can kind of keep it under control, but 9 feet? It can get away from you, the overtones, the resonances? It can all really get out of control, you have to play it in a different way. This piano is really special and the owner was so happy I wanted to use it - he really believes that its a “solo piano” piano. Beautiful, beautiful instrument - I’d love my own someday!
MBB: Is this music that can only be played on this piano? Is the music hyper-specific to these performances and captures? Can it be translated out into the world on a subpar instrument?
DM: Here’s what I’ll say: I made a choice a long time ago to pursue my craft outside the systems of classical music. I knew that when I did that it was going to be a struggle to find good instruments. But that’s where my listeners were and that’s where I wanted to be - I didn’t have anything to do with these institutions. I’m available for bookings, though!
But anyways - I got really used to performing on shitty instruments over the years and I actually can get a lot out of it. That being said, I did draw a line for shows on this record that I have not drawn previously. It’s gotta be a good instrument. I’m really open to different sizes, shapes, styles, and situations but my days of rolling up to a club and finding a half-broken, out-of-tune, busted upright that “can’t be moved” - those days are done [laughter]. I’ll do data entry, it’s fine - I don’t need to play your club.
MBB: Fair! We respect boundaries, we cherish boundaries.
DM: It’s the bummer of a piano - it runs my whole life. If I could just throw my instrument in a bag, my life would be completely different. I wouldn’t change anything about my life, though.
MBB: It’s a really particular thing. My buddy and I have this Fender Rhodes record coming out, another instrument where each one is super particular, super unique. And similarly they’re big, heavy, annoying - they can’t go on tour easily. They’re like old creaky dogs, they don’t wanna go for too long of a walk. But now it’s like, how do we make a photocopy of the sounds? How do we fit it in a bag? Fortunately for us on that record there are a lot of other sounds to work with. When it’s simply you and a piano, there’s nowhere else to hide.
DM: There really is nowhere to hide. It’s not necessarily important that the instrument is a really good instrument, but it is important that I feel like I can assert some level of control over it. If I can’t get to know it, if I can’t predict its behavior, then I’m not going to be able to perform this music. If I was improvising, straight up? Whatever. Literally give me a piece of sheet metal and a drumstick and I’m good - I don’t care. But this is music I worked hard on, music that I wrote, and it does want to be presented with a certain amount of care.
MBB: You really sound like an old cowboy talking about different horses on the ranch - oh, you know, he’s a lotta horse…
DM: Yeah, this one kicks back! [laughter]...then there’s the one horse over in the corner of the pasture that only I can ride, that’s my piano. It’s probably all the Cowboy Sadness rubbing off on me.
MBB: This really is a great record. The audio space of it is so interesting because it is hyperreal. I’m so used to hearing bass notes on the left, high notes on the right, the traditional stereo split of a piano, that’s what it sounds like. But here there are some really surprising moments of, like, impossible geometry, particularly when these strong low notes come in that take up the whole image of the sound. What am I trying to say - yes, it is a piano record, and it is a capture of you performing on a piano, but the space or architecture of it is much more like electronic music…
DM: It means the world to me to hear you say that [laughter].
Piano to me is everything - birth, death, mountains, ants, it’s everything. It contains the entire range of the human experience - it’s why most people play piano or they play another instrument and piano, it’s the mothership. That’s very real. But the way people record piano is often in this very small, contained, polite way. I went into this with a different idea - I wanted this to be the highest fidelity you can get, I wanted it to sound like you were inside the piano, I wanted it to sound HUGE…
MBB: It’s like a train when the low notes rumble in.
DM: Yeah! And I wanted it to sound at its smallest moments like it was going to break apart, like it was made of paper. A piano can do that, but it’s hard to record a piano like that. So we tried to record it in a way where we could mix it like an ensemble record. I wanted to isolate different registers of the piano. And of course my engineer was like, what the hell are you talking about. But he’s a genius - his name’s Ben Kane, he was D’Angelo’s guy. His dedication to the craft of recording instruments in a high-fidelity way with a ton of vibe - you can’t touch his credentials on that. We took it as this project - how do we reimagine what a piano recording can sound like? We set up a ton of mics and didn’t end up using any of them except two, then we did a bunch of tricks using things like melodyne to isolate things and submix them. It was this whole process where each song was almost manually broken down and reconstructed. Every sound you hear on the album comes from a lot, a lot of love.
MBB: Did you do any adjustment to the performances? Are there comps or edits?
DM: Oh yeah, there are comps. But everything is performed and recorded with no overdubs - mostly it would be like, the ending on this take is so special, we’re just going to put this one on the end of this one. Nothing too fancy. But even that felt, I don’t know, kind of dishonest at times?
MBB: Well, you know, then there’s Glenn Gould’s whole thing - considered by many to be one of the greatest to ever do it and a major evangelist of the powers of tape splicing in the studio. He really believed that you could assemble the platonic ideal of the Goldberg Variations by assembling comps together. It’s very common in this style of music to take the best parts.
DM: It is, you know, I had a friend who worked at Philip Glass’ studio for a long time and he told me that when they’d record those pieces the ensemble would record them every other measure. And then go back and record every other measure.
MBB: What!
DM: Yeah, because it was such fatiguing music to play.
MBB: That’s so funny - I never thought of it because I’ve seen his work performed, but of course that’s how you do it in the studio, that’s why they sound so insane.
DM: They’re insane! And Glenn Gould famously would record his hands separately.
MBB: And Joy Division did their cymbals separately, so it’s all part of a grand tradition.
DM: Spirit of Eden, though? That was one live take [laughter]
But you’re asking a really interesting question: this album was only going to work if it was the most honest thing I’ve ever made. And for it to be the most honest work I’ve ever done, it had to be a proper solo piano recording, and to be a proper solo piano album it had to have no overdubs. It’s just a piano. You’re not hearing anything a human can’t do.
MBB: But it’s nothing that you the human didn’t do…
DM: Right, exactly - it’s all put together. A really unique way of working.
And I know I’m putting it out into a wicked world - I’m sure the last thing on anyone’s mind right now is a solo piano album but, I don’t know…there’s something that feels important to me to do this with my craft right now. Amid everything else the simplicity of a raw human expression feels like where I wanna be focusing as an artist in this day and age.
MBB: And what else are we to do? And to make something really considered and transportive is the greatest thing any one of us can provide right now…or ever!
DM: I do wanna say - I think generative AI is doing something really fucking cool, because it’s getting people to actually think, what does good art mean to me? I don’t think we’ve really asked that question collectively previously. What do I require from art? What do I want out of it? And having all this fucking nonsense over everything now is making people go, what the fuck is this? I don’t want any of this. I never wanted any of this!
So, I don’t know, maybe the thing they wanted is a solo piano album and [laughing] I’m here to fulfill that need.
MBB: It’s the thing you needed to do and that’s often the most compelling work.
DM: At the end of the day, the only thing that has ever worked for me as an artist is to make the thing that I personally need in that moment. No other motivation has ever resulted in quality work. It’s the only thing that works. So? That’s my focus. And I think everybody who does this long enough, you go through periods where you question that and you start wanting to impress your label or your fans - it’s really easy to get carried away in that, but that’s where you start to slip. It’s important to keep in mind.
MBB: Let’s talk about the album art for a second - it’s so great, it’s a really beautiful image. Have you taken up cross-stitching as an ongoing hobby or are you done with it forever?
DM: I’ve taken it up as a hobby, although doing so much of it and looking at so much of it has me in a bit of a “fuck fish” moment, if you’ve ever seen the movie Adaptation But no, the quality of my life and the quality of my thoughts generally trend higher when I incorporate an hour or so of crafting into each day. Same with exercise.
MBB: Yeah, it’s like a real primordial urge - if you were gonna keep a human being in a space zoo and you wanted to give it some enrichment, throwing in some cross-stiching supplies would probably be a smart move.
DM: It is great in that way because it’s so much fun, and it’s a great way to kill time. I still live in New York City - I’m like, the last one left of my friends - but part of living here is you might have one thing in Greenpoint then dinner in the East Village and it doesn’t make any sense to go home, so suddenly you have two hours to kill. It happens constantly! So I just take my lil craft bag with me and I can sit by the East River and do my lil cross-stitch. I like getting old, man. Everybody’s just freaking out but I’m loving it.
MBB: Yeah, you’re really thriving! And if this album did truly come from a midlife crisis, this is a great way to use that energy.
DM: I was at such a dark point in my life and I really had two roads in front of me. I credit my wife and I credit the love of the people around me with making sure that I chose the path of continuing to grow, create, and go - not retreat. I’m really thankful for them.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
But what about you? Are you allowing your music to be played on subpar instruments? Are you grinding down the mountaintop? Or is it you who is being ground down by the mountaintop?
You just read issue #280 of My Big Break. You can also browse the full archives of this newsletter.