I do not quite remember how I came to find James’ music (or perhaps it found me), but when I did hear it, I quickly realized it as a welcome and important addition to the canon of modern solo piano that can be somewhat overwhelming these days. His music has a boldness and an intuitive quality that I find refreshing. There are moments of dark and light beautifully intertwined and a humbleness that is inviting and long-lasting. Several years ago, James invited me for an interview on his series, Moving Sounds, for Soho Radio and quickly found that we had a number of life and creative trajectories that crossed paths. I continue our conversation, this time from the other side.
The way you approach composition and the way you play piano is intriguing to me, in the sense that it feels very improvisational, but also very focused. It’s a difficult line to walk and still keep the listener engaged (which you do so well). Tell me about how you think about the structure of your work.
The fact it intrigues you is amazing. Before contemporary classical had its moment with our generation you were releasing stunning piano based records as Goldmund and helping pave the way. Your music as Helios is also some of my all time favourite music. Thanks for inviting me onto Resonance.
The improv/focused thing you mention ties into my way of composing with no notation. The process overtime seeps into my brain, and whilst the approach is improvisational, the final recording is pretty fixed. This approach allows me to improve pieces gradually, be free with timings and not be tied to a grid system. In the age of AI, this approach of adding intricacies little by little has increased importance for individuality. I tune into internal rhythms, which have their own consistencies, rather than a metronome. I call this type of music Pulse Music. This approach is a bit rarer in classical music I find.
I respect the theory behind classical and the art of song form in other genres but I’m not bound by it. I’m inspired in part by the builds of post-rock, the textures of ambient and soundtracks, the storytelling of folk and soul from around the world, early spiritual, the freedom of jazz, the righteous angst of punk spirit and the loops of electronic music. I react internally to these ‘non-classical’ influences but move into what feels like me. I use hooks/loops to create hypnotism that evolve subtly, that sit with my love of harmony (be that experimental or not,) whilst in a dialogue with the subconscious. I explore modulations into keys and unexpected chords without losing the essence and that hypnotic/loop feeling. I’m aiming for something catchy but not corny.. Often people are in one camp or the other. Either a song with lots of sections like in classical or song-form music, or a loop that evolves from start to finish, like in dance and devotional music.
If a song feels unique I remember it. Especially if it locks me into something autobiographical or something transcendent with a connection to a higher spirit, in a way I know I can communicate universally. Some songs I forget quickly, I’m ok with that, as they didn’t have the energy it needs to get to recording and out into the ether to do its thing.
A lot of people seem to start releasing music, then have to go through this pretty intense trial-by-fire experience learning about the music business. You have a unique perspective by having been in different roles within the music business/label side of things first, then forging your career a bit later on. How did this knowledge and experience help when you started putting out your work?
Growing up, I never knew anyone able to give breaks in my kind of music. Also, my friends were in guitar bands or dance producers, where there were more opportunities. My Dad was a fireman and my Mum a nurse, music fans for sure, but not connected to industry or academia. My Dad did work the door of a venue where blues legends played and his workmate had a sideline in photographing stars backstage, so I met Oasis, BB King, Hugh Cornwell, Therapy? and the punk pioneer Captain Sensible. My brother’s housemate was involved in the nascent UK garage scene in Southampton too. But as a solo pianist on an instrument you can’t travel with, playing a non-zeitgeist genre, I didn’t see many routes. This is before the indie classical scene that came up and an offline era. But I was obsessed with music and ended up in London working at one of biggest rising independent labels in publicity. I learnt a lot, but hardly any of the acts were making music in contemporary classical and I rarely brought up that I played. I was conscious to be professional and not push my own creative agenda.
It remained a hobby, but in time I realised that what felt like my truest identity is best communicated on the piano and everything else I feel not as good at, even with some success in those areas. I never fully identified as a music industry person, I’m more at one on the piano. It links me to an earlier time in life that felt pure and unblemished by what adult life throws at you and also the hyper digitised times we live in. I know deep down a musician is what I aspired to be before I even knew about an ‘industry’. So my industry background feels like a bit of a moot point in terms of how seriously I take my creativity. I hope people connecting with it can tell it comes from a place of art and not commerce.
So this behind the scenes knowledge, albeit in a different musical world, has given me an edge on strategy but I feel like I’m playing catch to establish a wider body of work and set myself apart as a composer. But maybe the sort of music I make is better with a more lived experience anyway and releasing later made sense for me.
You went through quite an ordeal in your 20s that involved coming close to death and actually being in a coma for some time. How did the profundity of this experience inform the path that you took afterward, both creatively and in a general sense?
I’m not sure I fully realise or can articulate how it might have affected my creativity. After recovering physically I started to use it as a superpower because I nearly left this life and I know how precious the gift of life is. I was intent on making the most of not being taken away and move further towards a life that was wholesome, giving, full of love and with an increased awareness of the connection of everything. It was a dark time however, I remember holding on in intensive care, with what felt like one finger to existence. My loved ones were told I had a 5% chance of surviving. I’d been on morphine for weeks and had hardly slept and couldn’t communicate, but in my mind I had this profound sense that I’d never pursued my first love, the piano. I had a voice telling me as much from some layer of my consciousness. From that moment it was always going to be a creative pursuit for me if I survived.
It took a few more things to go against me luck wise after that, before I truly embarked on music. My three remaining grandparents and some young artists I knew all passed in a year, I made some aborted demos in other styles and a lost year when I was a shell of the person I once was to then eventually start rebuilding. I remember writing my first tune in this era, in a peaceful environment I had built after those challenging years, and just knowing I could take it further. Creative energy is everything, you can have years of it, and you must make it count, then it can go away for periods. For a while there I was just compelled to share my piano music after navigating through the psychological effects of this period. I’m now entering a new stage of life I think, and releasing music again will play a major part in that at some point.
“It all amounts to a journey to a grounded transcendence I’m seeking, a meditative state to immerse in, not always to relax, but to feel vibrant and alive.”
What is your experience with sharing your music with others? You’ve managed to reach quite a lot of people, both in regard to streaming and with your concerts as well. What does this kind of connection mean to you?
In the early days in the 90’s into the 2000’s I loved making music alone, or in bands with friends, to playing it to people at the piano in a house or recordings from cassette. I’d get goosebumps if I felt a track might be good, and was eager to share, it didn’t seem to bother me if things weren’t perfect, I had less frame of reference in my style due to the times of what finished music may of sounded like. It’s odd trying to explain to younger people what life was like before the internet, we were more in our own individual worlds, with less opportunities. Sharing with a handful of people often sufficed.
One of my favourite things was finding people who made that kind of DIY electronic bedroom music that was emerging in the 90’s and collaborate. One time in particular I collaborated with a friend, who was definitely on the edge of known sanity and most people had given up on him socially. But I knew he had an attic (we were all kids still living at home of course), a keyboard, an 808 drum machine and the means to make electronic music. We spent a whole weekend up there, I thought I’d found the new Aphex Twin or something. But before we got the chance to play them to anyone, he lost the tunes and then had some hard times.
In the end, my music became more private. I was dedicated, but I had no real desire to share it and I lost faith in others having the drive. When I was 19, I spent half a year travelling alone around Africa, ending up hitching a ride on a small boat for a week across the sea and stepping onto a beach in Madagascar. Luckily I was welcomed by some hospitable remote communities. I think I was trying to find my ‘centre’, by broadening my perspective, knowing that one day I would reintegrate back into my life at home. When returning I was more comfortable with music being my own cathartic process and moved to London to start afresh in other areas. I honed a piano style gradually in the shadows increasingly uninformed by formal training. It was instinctive and a communication with my feeling, I’d imagine my playing to be like an orchestra, a band or an electronic soundscape, through a fascination with counterpoint and polyphony filtered through the minimalism of solo piano.
In my mid-30’s, something changed. The journey I’d been through and the place I was in felt like the right time to release music. I’d built confidence through demo uploads on Soundcloud in the few years before which spread a little organically. The music was stronger, more refined and conceptual and I now had some connections. Especially with SUKi creating all the art , which meant I could now “see” my music in the world. For it go to an unexpected number of listeners felt like a meaningful dialogue. I really like playing live from classical spaces to unexpected ones, the piano can work in many environments and I thrive on that. My years in the wilderness make me really appreciate it and that isolation I felt in darker times reacts with a profound connection to an audience. It’s internal and external at the same time and a salvation. I’d made peace with maybe never having these experiences as a performer due to my late start so it’s been magical. It’s interesting to have had a life where I’ve had years of sharing music with a handful of people or making for myself, to then connecting on a wider level. I’ve experienced joy with both and they’re equally valid creative experiences.
You can feel emotionality almost overflowing out of your music, it’s very intimate but also very intense at the same time. What does it feel like to be so vulnerable and exposed in this way; is it liberating, scary?
I don’t see any other way. I know in my heart when something feels rehashed, imitated or feeling ‘middle of the road’. If you dig deep into emotions both joyful and challenging then the music will have meaning for you and in turn the listener. The intimacy comes from being on the introvert scale, but shyer people can also want to be centre stage in their art and still bring the intensity. All the music I loved growing up felt exciting and vital, the raw emotion from the performers apparent, daring to go places with a distinct vision and vibe, whether it be in a banging or gentle way. I feel a lot of music (but not all of course!) can increasingly feel too safe, derivative and veering towards a kind of lifestyle/brand medium. Beautiful doesn’t have to be saccharine.
The fact my music is mostly instrumental makes it a coded language. I feel privacy can be protected if needed. I have words in my head but they come through the keys There’s a frustrated frontman singer in me perhaps! Those years of growing up around indie bands but mixed in with the need to remove ego thats prevalent in ambient and its adjacent genres. It’s this duality, amongst many that fuel me. For example, my right and left hand talking together on the keys and seeking balance. It all amounts to a journey to a grounded transcendence I’m seeking, a meditative state to immerse in, not always to relax, but to feel vibrant and alive. Personally, when I’m playing, I float through time and landscapes to create portals and ultimately channel love but I’m sure the audience have their own inner journeys. Sometimes I go fast and then slow, sometimes it’s aspiring to have a pure beauty, sometimes it’s virtuous explosion, all adding up to what feels like an exorcism to embrace humanity, the natural world and the cosmos. If all these parts have blended, it’s liberating and doesn’t feel scary.
Your book of sheet music, Selected Piano Works, was released last year. From what I understand a lot of your music is not notated when it is recorded or performed. How was the process of going back and transcribing and organizing this collection?
Quite the challenge, but it worked out in the end! I never intended to do it because my musical process means nothing is notated. Most of my time is playing new pieces or refining old ones, experimenting and leaning into my own rhythms and rules. For a few years when I started playing between 11 and 14 years old, I learnt to read music on a rudimentary level and it played an embryonic part in my development, so I have a respect for it. I started to get requests from listeners for my sheet music and after 5 years or so I wanted to make one big collection of everything.
I thought I’d finish it and move on quickly but it took longer than expected. I had to work out how to get all the years of music out of my head and onto the page without knowing how to write it down. It was a process of researching systems and working with people. I don’t play strictly to time throughout a piece, instead stretching and contracting it for tension and swing, which means even a simple song can look complicated on manuscript. I’ve also innately evolved my style so my fingers don’t hit the keys at exactly the same time, they are mostly floating. Milliseconds separate each note of a chord, it’s subtle but it adds to the immersion. This means my notated music doesn’t accurately display how I’m playing, as it would take too long to explain on the page and would look unnecessarily complicated to the player when they can bring their own slant to it anyway.
After a few years, I signed off the pieces and then worked on the visual side of the book with SUKI. Everyone was super friendly and patient in the process, work flows were honed and it would be much quicker next time!
How does piano speak to you? It can be such a powerful instrument, but also offers so much choice, along with so much history in what’s been done with it.
It’s my independence. I’m in love with the sound of the piano, its rich history and prevalence to this day. If I walk into a room and see one, I get a warm fuzzy feeling and want to play. They each have their own character from the cheapest to the most expensive. I can listen with wonder to a beginner or a professional, as I hear the individuality of that person playing. It’s an approachable instrument even to a young child, but also feels limitless in how you can improve on it. It’s unique in its range of dynamics, the fact you can play lots of harmony all at once and also the rhythmic element of the hammers hitting the strings.
A solo piano concert can captivate a large audiences, bigger than some promoters realise, if you know how to use dynamics, take it outside of one paced mood music, and use stagecraft to communicate the meaning behind the notes. Increasingly I think there is a risk of adding too much to the mix instrumentally and with electronics to fit in with peers and trends. It’s so easy now to add more and feed the shortening attention spans of this era. I love the purity and the minimalism the piano brings and knowing the universe that lies within it.
What kinds of things inspire you in your life beyond music these days?
Peace, altruism, coexistence and equality. Also institutions and people that value compassion and empathy over anything else.
I like to delve into the history of civilisation and the natural world. More abstractly speaking I like to time travel in my head. When I’m in the place I try to be in the moment, but given the chance I like to imagine how it might have been in the past or will be in the future. This is how I feel at the piano often. Connecting into ancestral themes, but also wanting to make a piece of music that lasts. But of course on the piano, with your two hands, you have no choice but to be in the moment to keep the tune moving!
I’m inspired by connections with loved ones that last through different periods in life. Relationships where you can have friendly banter but also go deep and meaningful when needed.
I like going to exhibitions and watching good quality film and also taking time to just wander. I’m also a Star Wars nut, including loving the new stuff they do, controversial I know! If I’m lucky I’ll take a longer adventure or two each year, perhaps abroad, somewhere beautiful or culturally fascinating.
Above all else I love spending time with my loved ones. We all know how fragile life can be, so those pure moments spent with family I really treasure.
What do you have in the works?
I’m on a pause, but had to talk to the Kennif’s new blog!
After 8 years of recording, releasing, performing and promoting, it felt like time to step away. I pour myself totally into the piano, it’s just me and the notes, and the process whilst rewarding is emotionally draining. I want to keeping spreading connection with music but it’s also it’s good to create space to reconnect or discover inspiration about what being a creator means.
There’s pressure to constantly be out there, even if just on socials. I’m probably going against all advice for a rising career trajectory, but I knew in my heart that I needed a break. Then I can come back fresher and at my own pace. To make that decision is an artistic power in itself. My last concert was at my old primary school to the school children. To do something where it began and not in some cool venue that would be the industry advice to play as a final show had resonance for me and completed a circle.
I’m in a stage of contemplation, about myself, relationships around me, the music scene and the world. Weighing up the realities around us against an idealism of humanity, peace and joy that I advocate. If my next music is good enough, then I’ll release it, do more shows and show a fuller side of me. My previous music documented a difficult time which connected to people on levels I wasn’t expecting. I don’t want to feel defined by that period, so now I’m laying a more solid foundation in my life and see what that brings to the music. I have a few albums worth of ideas. I just need time to execute it and potentially collaborate. I don’t feel like there’s a rush, It just has to feel right. I need to jump through some hoops logistics wise in my day-to-day, then for the first time dedicate myself entirely to creativity.
Bandcamp / Spotify / Apple Music / Amazon / jamesheather.com
This was a wonderfully heartening, insightful and inspiring read. Many thanks to James and Keith for taking the time to chat.