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.”

On Richmond Street in downtown Providence lives a hip live music venue and nightclub called Alchemy. This otherworldly little lounge is appropriately named, and it’s an ideal spot for night owls like myself to come out and support their local artists. Just walk inside and the hypnotic ambiance is immediately evident from the multi-colored mood lighting that flashes over a mysterious dark room. Like unveiling a juicy secret, your first time at Alchemy will make you say to yourself, this is my new favorite place. The staff is beyond friendly, too. The kind-eyed bartender was laid-back yet courteous (and also super apologetic), and offered me a free drink after admitting they were out of limes that night. The smell of freshly popped corn filled the air as the employees placed bowls of it on the bar, something for us hungry-for-music attendees to much on while we waited. I made my way over to the arcade games where a pinball machine flashed, and I couldn’t resist playing a few rounds before the show. One of the coolest things about this place is the fact that a sweet view of the stage can be had from anywhere inside. You can take a seat at the bar, get up and dance, or plop down on one of the oversized, cozy leather couches and still get an awesome view of the band.

One of the two groups featured last Saturday calls themselves They Were Robots. The lively crew combines five uber-talented members: Chris Mitchell on keyboard, Mike Cirino on guitar, Matt Smith on bass, Keith Harriman on trombone, and Tim Eskey on drums. Everyone except Tim contributes to the vocals as well. Each bandmate adds his own personal energy on stage; not one of the guys seemed to overshadow the rest, and interlocking vocals give the music a unique texture. I was vibrating with anticipation as I sipped my drink, waiting for them to start the show. The moment they started playing I could feel my spirits lifting. The best way to describe their sound in a nutshell is experimental with a clear alt-rock influence. In the middle of the set, center stage trombonist Keith Harriman asked the audience if we were familiar with the band Cake. I threw my hand in the air as I began reminiscing on the summer nights I’d spent blasting The Distance through my car speakers. Cake does an epic job of smoothly working the trumpet into an alt-rock song, and They Were Robots manages to do the same with the trombone. I have to admit, my favorite part of the show was watching how much fun the band had on stage. There were nothing but passionate and magnetic vibes emanating from these guys as they set fire to the room. The red, green, and blue lights that danced over them reflected the colorful personalities of the bandmates, on radiant display during the set. Even when my feet started to hurt, I couldn’t choose taking a seat over swaying and bouncing to this vivacious bunch. Make sure you check out the band ASAP. Take it from me, their good mood tunes could turn any bad day around with just one note.

I was buzzing after drummer Tim Eskey hit me with a wave of positivity during our brief interview. His genuine insight left me eager to hear more and impatiently waiting for my next opportunity to see him live again

How long have you been playing live?

Started playing out when I was around 11-12, with a dixieland band in San Diego. A couple of years later I was playing swing standards with a big band on a yacht club circuit. Then it was a succession of rock, jazz, and fusion bands at clubs, parties, bars, concerts, and festivals.

How did you meet your bandmates?

Craigslist! I’d been playing in the Boston area, but recently moved to Rhode Island and wanted to be more musically centered here. The band (They Were Robots) had been together about a year and was between drummers, looking for a replacement. I answered the ad and we got together to see if it was there. We played and I was blown away. They’re talented, committed, and write compelling and challenging originals. Glad I got the gig. It’s great playing with these guys and being part of where they’re going.

Your Heaven Audio has a drum system in the works, what are the biggest audio challenges you face when playing live?

Getting an accurate sense of how the drums really sound in the mix that the audience is hearing.

Who are some of your influencers and/or favorite artists and what do you admire most about them?

Early influencers/favorites were older jazz drummers like Buddy Rich, Elvin Jones, Art Blakey, Tony Williams, Joe Morello, Jo Jones; and some younger cats like Peter Erskine.  In the rock genre, Ringo (of course), John Bonham, Carl Palmer, Danny Seraphine, Neal Peart, Keith Moon, Ginger Baker, Stewart Copeland, and Dave Grohl are favorites.  Fusion drummers like Vinnie Coliuta blow me away too. That’s a long list, but what they have in common that I most admire is not their incredible chops (that’s just a given on that level) but how they blend with, and make their bands.  Listening to these guys teaches that drummers are sure enough important, but they need to be a piece of the whole, serving the band’s music, rather than flashing chops, just because.

Any advice or words of wisdom for fellow performers in the industry?

When I was lugging drums to rehearsals and gigs before I could drive, my grandfather, who patiently drove me around, always used to say, “you should have played the damn flute!”  That always used to crack me up because the only thing I ever wanted to play was drums and, not just by myself, but with just about anybody who would play with me and who, like me, ultimately wanted to play out for other people.  I don’t know about advice or wisdom, but I do know that sometimes it’s a grind to get it right and deal with the fact that there’s a lot of competition for good venues these days.  So I’d just remind folks to keep in mind what you love about gigging and to support your fellow musicians by going out and seeing their shows and letting them know when they kill it.

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.

The CloseUp System was made by musicians, for musicians like Jesús…

“In my 30 years of playing amplified violin, I’ve always been looking for the best sound, the best violin, the best bow and the best amplification. It’s like these guys designed exactly what I had in mind, and I am very happy to be working with them closely, because it is revolutionary. Amplifying an acoustic violin has always been a challenge. I’ve tried them all, and then this past year I found the CloseUp System by Your Heaven Audio.”

Why the CloseUp system works for Jesús…

“It is very easy to use. It holds easily; you can put it in and out, and it’s not intrusive. This one has the perfect sound. It can also model and equalize your sound on their proprietary software. You go online, you test it for your violin, and it sets the perfect EQ for your violin. It’s unbelievable. We compared it in the studio with high end mics, it was as good. I can have a high end violin and just put it in the f hole and it works wonderfully.”

Jesús’ upcoming world tour with the CloseUp System…

“I mean it was unbelievable, we were very surprised and very pleased that I found this mic since i was looking for a system for my new upcoming world tour with Sonoro Latino. I needed to find the perfect sound for this because it is an acoustic show and I want to have great sound. This system accomplishes them all. Ease of use, no feedback, great sound, and the EQ system software is amazing. We can’t wait to get on the road and show you how good it sounds.”

Mark Benis, a video game and film score composer, studied music in college and is now in graduate school for composition at NYU. He uses theory to maintain a creative flexibility in his character themes: “Say you’re writing for TV and don’t necessarily know what’s going to happen later in the series. You write a theme for a character, say they’re a very headstrong, aggressive person. If your main motive is big Taiko drums and guttural men’s choir, but they have a very tender scene later in the series, you’ve kind of written yourself into a hole. If you write a motive that can imply all sorts of harmony, you have more possibilities.”

Theory also helps him translate a director’s instructions into musical notes: “If we’re talking about a client-composer situation, it’s the composer’s job to interpret what your client says into musical language. When they say, ‘I want this to be darker,’ does that mean they want the same melody but just want you to orchestrate it for cellos and double basses? It’s interpreting their words into theory and seeing if you can accomplish the changes they want.”

I next talked to Cory Broad, who plays acoustic guitar with the band called ., or One Dot. Cory’s been playing and writing pop and rock songs for 15 years, and this September at Brown University, he decided to take a class in music theory.

When Cory composes with his band members, theory is never a big part of the composition process. It’s more about the vibe of the music, and less about harmonic complexity: “I’ll write songs [with chords] I-IV-V, playing everything on the guitar with parallel fifths and octaves, and I’m pretty chill with that. It’s not very theoretically complicated or particularly harmonically interesting. I’m more concerned about the words and the emotions and the performance.”

Cory sees theory as a tool to use when he needs it, and ignore when he doesn’t: “Whenever I pick up more theory I get concerned that I’m going to lose some kind of naiveté or something that I wanted to maintain in writing or doing music. But I don’t think that fear has been true. Having the theory is helpful sometimes, and then it’s pretty easy to just ignore when I don’t want to use it. If I need to think through something, then I’ll try to turn on some of the random theory stuff I have floating around.”

Whether you’re writing scores for films or playing and recording for yourself, music theory can be a great tool for tackling technical problems. But if you want to just zone out and groove, diving headfirst into a deep analysis might not be necessary. How do you use music theory, if at all, in your music?