I listen to music while working on photos. Right now, I’m listening to Steve Reich’s “Electric Counterpoint - Part 1 - Fast” featuring Pat Metheny, as well as Neil Finn’s “Dizzy Heights” and a little Taylor Swift. The latter takes my brain out of a meditative lull that occurs from editing and yes, it’s a strange mix of musicians. For some reason the compositional pieces I’ve heard by Ben McAllister lead me to reference Arthur Russell, John Cage, Steve Reich, Philip Glass, and the melodies and guitar riffs of Neil Finn. During the early days of the pandemic, I returned to exploring the musicians I mentioned previously (except Swift). Every Neil Finn track was loaded into my playlist and I'd sit in the garden just observing life. I also watched documentaries about Russell and Cage, along with “Koyaanisqatsi” featuring Philip Glass. I’m referencing these musicians because it’s not difficult for me to sense these subtle references while listening to McAllister’s music. At least this is how I feel – Mr. D, a fellow musician may disagree.
Ben McAllister
Our house sits on a fairly busy road in West Seattle. It has a view of really amazing sunsets and sometimes when the fog clears we can see the Olympic Mountains. Over the years I’ve grown accustomed to the ambient sounds. I know when the ferry has arrived from the steady flow of car noise. Strangely, birds have this ability to rise above the traffic noise. I’ve become very adept at recognizing when the juncos and bushtits are visiting. I often hear the hummingbird before I see it. The flicker in the distance, and the Steller's jay frequently tells me that it’s about to visit the saucer of water for a bath and a drink. These signals shift with the time of day and the environment. Some nights, I just go and sit in the garden and home in on the disjointed orchestration of the birds. If you listen closely you can hear one bird speaking to its counterpart in the distance. In the early mornings and late evenings I hear dogs barking sometimes next door but more frequently far away. On foggy days the ferry horn sounds so close that Mr. D and I joke the boat is about to dock at our deck. These ambient sounds and strangely repetitive loops fascinate me. It serves as training for my ears, but imagine an incorporation into music.
My mind is wandering back to when I last wrote about the Chapel. I had attended a Beth Fleenor performance, and at some point during the course of the show I realized that the outdoor sounds were a part of the music. I expected a similar experience at the Ben McAllister and Neil Wilson performance. As McAllister described it, the goal was about “exploring a line between planning and [being] spontaneous.”
Neil Wilson & Ben McAllister
While the stage setup didn’t include a bathtub and various random objects, my senses felt something unexpected and meditative was in play. Once again, the windows at the Chapel were wide open, allowing the outside sounds to intersect with the partially improvised performance.
Ben McAllister
When I arrived early, there was a lone note on loop coming from the piano and I noticed various effects pedals setup, as well as Ben’s guitar. The drummer Neil Wilson’s setup was a minimal kit. I surveyed the set up wondering how to achieve a group photo of two distanced musicians. How to get a photo of Ben playing the piano without interfering with the audience or the video? At the Seaprog performance of Deborah Petrina, she utilized the piano externally and internally. I managed to get photos of her touching the piano strings. Unfortunately, I held myself back from attempting this at Ben’s show, I hid behind a curtain and focused my telephoto. It netted a ghostly photo. His reflection on the piano lid, the soft sunlight in the background, the piano microphone, and his hand on the strings. It’s not a perfectly pixelated photo, but feels rather analog and atmospheric. An early photo, it set the tone for how I proceeded in my editing process - let’s label it “grainy cinematic.” The room for the show was predominantly natural light and was constantly changing as the sun set.
Neil Wilson
I walked around the room, my ears becoming attuned to his music. The crowd below, the juncos, an ambulance, and at one point a dog sound that turned out to be a part of the improvisational loop, moved me into a meditative state. The set transitioned to McAllister on guitar and the addition of Neil Wilson on drums. I want to note during Ben’s set, Wilson was engaged tapping his feet, almost eager to jump up and join in. This was my first time photographing Wilson. I didn’t know what to expect, a lovely challenge. I find for me it helps to listen to music and watch for body rhythms. I recognized the cues occurring between Ben and Neil. They faced each other directly, so catching that facial extra-linguistic communication without audience interference through the lens was arduous. I focused instead on the singular shot of Neil. I wanted to get his expression and drum movement. Fortunately, I’ve watched Ben play guitar multiple times. He looks very serious and intense, but breaks a smile - as if something has clicked - a burst of…joy. It’s an elusive shot for me. I was surprised to find one with him smiling.
Ben McAllister
The set with guitar and drums felt too brief, but my understanding is that the pieces of music played are an ongoing evolution, one I look forward to hearing. Ben’s next performance is with his group Guitar Cult at the Royal Room on September 21st. This lineup will feature Neil on drums and presumably a more expanded soundscape. A little side note. I went home and watched the first U.S. women's team FIFA World Cup match. I had taped it and stayed up until 2 a.m. but it was worth it to hear McAllister’s compositions.
