But even with its long history, the PMO is by no means an ensemble guided solely by tradition. Under the direction of guitarist and mandolinist Mark Davis, a member since the 1970s and director since 1989, their repertoire covers all sorts of genres, from Renaissance classics to Queen’s “Bohemian Rhapsody.” And there is no shortage of new music. Bob Margo, one of the PMO members, often arranges or commissions new pieces for the group.

Mandolins come in all shapes and sizes, analogous to instruments in a string orchestra. Mandolins, mandolas, and mandocellos make up the bulk of the ensemble. Within each section, the instruments vary in age and style. Mark explains the difference between the modern American and the older European designs: “The European instruments have a big round, lute-like back. But [Orville] Gibson designed an instrument with a carved top and a carved back, like a violin.” Gibson’s American mandolins borrow the violin’s F-hole design, while the European styles use a single oval hole, a design that originated from lutes.

In this composition by Owen Hartford, violinist Rachel Panitch performs a solo with the Providence Mandolin Orchestra in the Netherlands.

However they ended up here on this Tuesday night, mandolin in hand, exchanging smiles over their music stands, the musicians of the PMO couldn’t imagine being anywhere else. Many have been with the ensemble for 30 years or more. “When you come into this group, it’s almost like you’re coming into a family,” says Mark. “It’s a real community.”

How long have you been working on this album?

The idea to pursue recording records as a thing to do got in my head when I was a senior in college. The first record I ever made was when I was a freshman in college, actually. So, I’ve been [recording] for a while, but this particular one started summer 2016.

As a self-recordist, what was the process like?

When I first started recording with the intention of making a record, I was basically in a little attic room in Providence, recording into a cell phone. I had no contacts, no studio, no equipment, very few resources to devote to it. All the equipment that I purchased to make the record I ended up selling to pay for mixing and mastering. So, I had no resources and no expectations except that I wanted to make a record.

Where did you record the album?

The piano, vocals, and some of the guitar were recorded in a studio. I ended up meeting an engineer, Seth Manchester, who works at “Machines with Magnets,” a recording studio, art gallery, and music venue in Pawtucket. Strings were recorded in a Bushwick basement in Brooklyn, NY. But the horns, woodwinds, bass, and maybe half of the guitars were recorded in my home studio.

How did you keep a consistent sound quality when recording in so many different places with different acoustics?

Part of the challenge was going into it knowing that it would end up being a collage-y thing. Everything was recorded individually and then overdubbed and mixed together. Were I advising somebody to do something like this, I would recommend that they use their ears to make sure that what they’re recording doesn’t assume the quality of the room. I think it’s important to treat your room with bass traps or Persian rugs or whatever in order to have the rooms acoustically similar.

What guitars do you play on this album?

I used 3 guitars primarily. One was a 1962 Gibson LG1, a student model from the 1960s, famously played by early Rockabilly musicians. And then I used a hollow-body electric guitar, an Epiphone Elitist Casino. And then a 1965 Guild Mark 2, a nylon string classical guitar, which is one I’ve had forever. That’s the guitar on which I wrote most of the songs.

Anything else that you want to add?

I think that people who are self-recordists have a tendency to focus too much on the gear they’re purchasing and the brand names. If you read magazines, they’ll tell you what mics to buy, what equipment you need, stuff like that. But it’s really not about what you can afford. It’s much more about your desire to do it and your ideas and your musicality. That’s much more important.

Julian’s project (and PhD dissertation) No No Boy shares stories of Asian-American history through music. With harmony singer Erin Aoyama, Julian has been touring around the country, performing in churches, schools, and community centers. What is now a songbook, a full tour schedule, and a series of educational sessions originally started out as a collection of research projects and a personal exploration of his family’s history:

“About a year ago, sometime right after the election, I was at home in Nashville with my mom, and I just started listening to these interviews that I had transcribed of people that were in these [Japanese internment] camps and other interviews with Asian-American musicians. I remember being at the dining room table, and my guitar was right there, and I just started writing all these songs. Literally while I was transcribing these interviews. Telling these stories through these songs.”

When Julian picks up a guitar, you can’t help but lean in and listen. Whether playing a song at the kitchen table or onstage, Julian’s a natural performer. Both he and Erin effuse a genuine charisma and sincerity that brings an optimism to the songs despite the bone-chilling intensity behind the stories. That Erin’s grandmother was incarcerated during WWII makes the music all the more personal. For Julian, “it’s really powerful for her to sing these songs with me.”

No No Boy also brings Julian into collaboration with other Asian-American musicians. He and indie-rock violinist Kishi Bashi are playing a sold-out show in Providence, RI later next week, and earlier in the year, cellist Takénobu joined them for a southern tour through Alabama and Tennessee. The project is a commemoration and celebration of Asian-American history that Julian invites everyone to join; his goal is to “spark conversations with people, regardless of their background.”

This year, Julian and Erin are hitting the road with No No Boy. Julian has presented his research at academic conferences and has spent countless hours studying ethnographic theory, but where the project really finds meaning, he says, is in concert:

“It’s a really unobtrusive way for people to connect to this history because you’re telling stories through songs about individuals. It’s not hitting people over the head with, ‘Did you know 120,000 people were incarcerated in these camps?’ You talk about actual names of people and what they were doing in these spaces, and how they lived.”

It’s definitely a great way to get a PhD, but the project reaches far beyond Julian’s graduate studies. At the end of the day, No No Boy is really about the connections between Julian, his guitar, and the audience: “The world makes a lot more sense when you’re hanging out and singing songs and having conversations.”

In jazz, room response contributes to the style’s aesthetics. Unlike classical recordings, which are often generous with reverb, jazz acoustics tend toward sounds that are clean, crisp, and clear. Many engineers achieve this by recording instruments in isolation, but putting the musicians in totally separate rooms risks minimizing eye-contact between players. “To me it’s never as good if the musicians can’t see each other, because jazz is very interactive. I always try to set up so that they’re isolated but can see each other.”

When you throw an audience into the mix, you enter a whole other world of recording: live shows. The audience, by making noise and even changing the room acoustics with its physical presence, is a key element that distinguishes live concerts from studio recordings. “If you heard just a guitar cab from a live concert, it doesn’t sound very good. The amplification of the room gives some life back to the sound. You can also put a couple mics out in the audience to capture what’s going on in the room.”

You have to experiment, Monte encourages. Try the drums in this corner, the guitar in this spot. Move the mics around. Record a sample, listen back. Then move around again, until you’ve found the spot where the room sounds the best. Remember, you’re not just playing in the room, you’re playing with it.