What was the inspiration behind The Small Hours and how did the nighttime theme come to life in your compositions?  The pieces for this collection came to me over a long period of time. However, many of them started to take shape during some late-night improvisations that I recorded during the pandemic shutdowns. I simply dimmed the lights and hit record over the length of a couple weeks. I then titled each recording, for lack of a better idea, Nocturne 1, Nocturne 2, etc. I noticed a common feel in these tracks, and I always associated them with the dark hours of the night. In January, 2020 just before the pandemic, I saw Emmanuelle Le Gal’s string art piece, titled The Moon and Sun Dance, and I knew it had to be my next album cover, even though I didn’t have an album yet. I purchased it from her and had her ship it to me from Massachusetts. It now hangs over my composition desk. This piece, combined with the common thread that was forming in my rough recordings, shaped the trajectory of the album. I began to give more permanent titles to the Nocturnes, and from there revised them and polished them to what I recorded and chose for the album.

I chose the by-line: “One Night, Many Stories”, and began to tell the stories that different people experience during the night-time hours: peace, grief, love, family, solitude, insomnia, dreams of flight and dreams of departed loved ones, shame and grace, fear and hope. While many of my earlier albums feature both quiet and virtuoso compositions, I intentionally chose to keep the dynamic range for this collection low and more meditative. This forced me to find more nuance and new ways to express emotion. It was a positive growth process for me.

How did the pandemic and its challenges influence the mood and direction of the album? Were there specific moments that shaped certain tracks?

The pandemic kind of blew up my life, as it did for so many others. As a piano teacher, I had to move 32 students to online lessons, and as a part-time worship pastor with my church, I had to find new ways to host times of worship for my congregation, including filming services in my office at home and posting them online. There simply wasn’t time nor energy to be creative with my own music, other than these late-night improv sessions.

Combine this with the storms of conflict that arose, both nationally and in my own world, and I realized I needed peace. This music began to point me in that direction, and the quiet nature of the project helped me process the grief and pain I was experiencing. The pieces A Prayer in the Darkness, and This Grief Lies Down Beside Me come to mind as being specifically about those times, especially at four in the morning, when I couldn’t sleep as I tried to process the lost friendships and the anxieties that plagued that season for me and so many others.

You’ve blended elements of Classical, Folk, and Rock throughout your career. How do those influences play into The Small Hours?

My musical background is full of many influences. I was trained classically on the piano, but grew up on rock, especially progressive rock. Later in life I discovered incredible singer/songwriters such as Andrew Peterson and Ellis Paul, as well as the folk and traditional music of Scotland and Ireland. I’ve never really considered myself a classical composer, but the harmonies and techniques of the classical tradition are unavoidable in my playing. I often compose as if there are lyrics, with verses and chorus and bridges in my song structure, yet I try to maintain the priority of melody over everything else, which points to my folk lineage.

The Small Hours displays less of the rock heritage, compared to my earlier releases. However, there is still the prog influence in pieces such as Above the Treetops (with its odd meter and shifting pulses), and The Moon and Sun Dance, which plays heavily on a sort of rhythmic game in my head, much as a prog drummer might play with beat displacement. The long fadeout improv of the last track, Daybreak, has a bit of an Andy Summers/Police vibe as well.

Many of the pieces on The Small Hours evoke a sense of peace and reflection. What role does music play for you personally during difficult times?

I tend to write music for my own therapy. In a way, you all are listening in on my therapy sessions. I write what I want, or need to hear, especially if I’m not hearing it anywhere else. After all that, I decide if it might speak to someone else, and then I can decide if I want to share it with the world. Sometimes what comes out is surprising to me as much as to anyone else. When I play the piano, I am often processing what has been going on in my world, in much the same way that someone who jogs or bikes processes life as they exercise. There are times when I finish practicing, and I don’t remember what I did, as I often let my mind wander. While these may not be the most productive times musically, they often leave me a bit purged and able to try something new, like something gets unhitched in my mind.

I don’t always write sad music, but I’m not afraid to. I feel my music should reflect upon the world as it is. I once heard it said that “Happy music doesn’t make one happy. Sad music does.” I believe there’s some truth to this, as hearing the sadness in a piece of music can help someone who is struggling to realize that they are not alone in this world, and someone else out there gets it. I shared many of these pieces for that purpose. It’s like being able to walk with them as they go through the hard valleys. One of the most intense pieces on The Small Hours is called A Room with a View. I composed this after spending time with a loved one in the hospital, when all seemed out of control. Writing this helped me deal with those out of control feelings, and helped me get through to the other side where I could find hope again.

Your track Nightwalk incorporates the hymn Be Thou My Vision. Why did you choose this hymn, and how does it fit within the album’s overall narrative?

Back when our adult kids were newborn, I would pick them up after their 2 AM feedings and walk them on a little circuit through our tiny house until they fell back asleep. I would sing old hymns to them softly, and I always started with Be Thou My Vision. It has always been my favorite hymn, and we sang it in our wedding and I’ll probably request it for my funeral. The lyrics remind me to see the world through God’s eyes, no matter the circumstances, and the melody is sublime and simple. My daughter grew up having a deep connection to this song. These small hour loops from my kitchen sink, around to the front door, and then back again, gently bouncing my new child in the dark, are some of my fondest memories of those days, and I couldn’t help but include something about it in this collection.

You’ve been composing and performing for decades now. How has your approach to music evolved since your debut album Impromptu?

I released a rock album in 1998 (Horizon), but followed that up with starting our family. Financial realities dictated that money went to a mortgage and groceries and diapers. Years later, when I began to consider a follow-up album, the expense of a new vocal album with a band seemed insurmountable. I considered what might be done in producing a piano album instead. In writing for that album (which became Impromptu), I experimented with putting the band into the piano. Most modern solo piano music is expected to have that “new age” vibe, and capitalize on a gentle flowing sound. However, what if I put drums and percussion in the piano rhythms, and used the entire dynamic range of this amazing instrument? Like, maybe incorporating Rush and Elton John into these piano pieces? Thus I tapped into a lesser-used market for solo piano music. However, radio programmers were often at a loss as to what to do with my albums, since they didn’t fit easily into the meditative ambient sound that was assumed for this genre.

I have had fun with this, but for this album, as well as the previous one (Holy Ground), I tried to dig a little deeper emotionally, not relying on crashing bass notes and flying arpeggios to achieve emotional impact. In addition, I was able to purchase my dream piano last year. Having a concert-grade instrument in my office has allowed me the ability to grow intimately acquainted with its dynamic range before recording. The results were surprising, and I found myself playing more and more quietly as I finished composing these pieces. I won’t say I’m done with the flashy, rock piano works, but I feel like I am a more rounded composer and player now after going through this process.

What does your compositional process typically look like? Is there a specific environment or mindset that helps you create your most reflective pieces?

As any composer will tell you, it varies from piece to piece. However, It often comes from being in a particularly open and relaxed state of mind and letting myself experiment at the piano, and getting rid of my inner critic. I always have my phone nearby to capture audio ideas if something feels right. I have learned to be open, especially when providing background music at a social event. I keep my phone on the piano’s music stand so I can hit record as I’m improvising. Several finished pieces have had their genesis in these situations. I keep folders of what I call “seeds” on my computer, and regularly return to these to see what feels right for development. Sometimes it’s just a melody I’ve sung in the car, sometimes it’s an intriguing chord progression. I then record each iteration as I develop these ideas further until I’m satisfied. For a gentler project such as The Small Hours, once the general idea is set, I will often notate the music so I can keep the structure minimal and pure. If left to my own impulses, I will often play too many notes. But if things are written out, I am more able to let the least possible notes tell the story I want to tell. Good examples of this from the new album are A Room with a View, Falling Up, and Trust.

You’ve received accolades for previous albums, including Holy Ground and Between Shadow and Light. How do you see The Small Hours standing in relation to your past work?

I am very pleased with how those collections turned out. Each has an honesty in how they were created that I am proud of. The Small Hours feels like a new chapter for me. I didn’t feel the need to impress anyone with my playing this time. Even though there are passages that are quite challenging technically, they serve the music better, and the casual listener may not even realize anything fancy just happened on the piano. This collection just feels confident and more subtle, perhaps more inviting, without compromising its musical integrity. (At least I hope that’s how it comes across!) When I listened back to the final masters, I felt I had captured deeper emotions this time, but without drawing attention to myself. I like how that feels.

Your music has resonated with listeners around the globe. What do you hope fans will take away from this new album, especially considering its more introspective tone?

Beauty. I want to represent the True, the Good and the Beautiful in my art, and I hope this comes through for everyone who might listen. There is so much pain, so much hurt in this world, and I feel I have an opportunity and calling to shine light and beauty into where people are in their experienced life. I recently read Makoto Fujimura’s excellent book, Art and Faith, and he speaks to this as a Christian artist, and I agree. I think my music has resonated with a broad spectrum of people because I’m not afraid to write and talk about death and life, suffering and joy, and all with (I hope) a bit of humor. All those things that we experience together are real and happening now. Perhaps my music can point the way to healing and a Refuge, while providing some relief now, a lightening of the load.

What’s next for you following the release of The Small Hours? Are there any upcoming projects or performances on the horizon?

I hope to pick up the threads and begin playing out live again this next year. Covid knocked out live performance for almost four years, but I can see people returning to shows hungry for live music. I’d rather people hear my music in the same space with me than through a recording. We have better opportunities for community when we’re together and sharing these stories. I am also planning on a new album featuring my wife, Cathy on flute. We have wanted to do this for a couple decades, so It’s long overdue. This will feature larger arrangements with more instruments, and I’m very excited to finally finish these ideas and get them out to the world.

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