Unable to secure a proper interview with the enigmatic London-based producer known as Actress, I wrote what is basically a feature-length review of his excellent new album, R.I.P. I wrote about its themes of death and the afterlife, as well as the delicate sounds that flow throughout the nearly hour-long record. Actress’ new LP is easily my favorite to be released in 2012 thus far, which you may gather from the liberal comparisons I make to another landmark record, Aphex Twin’s Selected Ambient Works Volume II.
I profiled prolific Belgian producer François Boulanger—one of my favorite new artists, who operates under both the Ssaliva and Cupp Cave monikers—for this Bubblin’ Up feature on XLR8R.
For this feature, I had the distinct pleasure of interviewing two of my all-time favorite electronic musicians, Jan St. Werner and Andi Toma of Mouse on Mars. They told me about the first time they heard one of their songs on the radio, what it was like making a soundtrack for a neurotic filmmaker, and why the best time for electronic music is right now, among loads of other stories. This article is made up of select portions of the illuminating, hour-long conversation that we had together, which was easily one of my favorite interviews I’ve ever done.
I woke up this morning with a message on my phone. It said that my longtime friend and frequent musical collaborator Paul Albert Harper had died. The shock is still all I can feel.
I knew Paul as a wildly creative and musical person with an insatiable urge to write songs and hone his craft. He had a knack for coming up with interesting vocal melodies, writing clever and memorable lyrics, creating unique sounds as a guitarist and producer, and jumping from genre to genre with ease. The Paul that I knew would undoubtedly want to be remembered for his work, which, sadly, went largely unheard.
I met Paul some time around 2003, when our bands were on the same record label. His band was called History Invades, and I remember being kind of jealous at how good they were. We all wanted to sound like Fugazi, Q and not U, Refused, and the like; History Invades did all of that, but with an air of innovation and authenticity. Paul was the singer, guitarist, and primary songwriter for the band, and went on to write three albums as History Invades, one of which a record label that I once helped run was able to release. If you use Rdio, you can listen to all of them here.
During and following that time, Paul moved up and down Califonia and started many solo projects and bands, all of which seemed to serve as outlets for his unceasing need to write music in all manners and styles. He toyed with electronic music, shoegaze, post-punk, pop, rock, and much more. Everything he wrote felt vaguely familiar with an edge that was totally his own; even at his most aggressive, Paul infused his work with a dose of melancholia. I always appreciated that. He sang the vocals on one of the first songs I wrote as Courtship, “Carry On,” and also contributed to a track that will be on the first Courtship album. I have other recorded vocals from Paul, which I fully intend to use in the near future.
I remember the last time I talked to Paul on the phone. It was towards the end of 2011, when I had just decided I would move from San Francisco to New York. We talked about music, movies, girls, moving, health issues he’d been dealing with, and our own projects for an hour or so. We both noted how good it was to talk with the other and how we should do it more often. At the time, he seemed in good spirits, but Paul always had a slight air of sadness about him, which his health troubles likely didn’t assuage. I think he felt like most creative people can feel at times, as if nothing ever works out just right, just how he thought it very well could. My friend Nigel said the same thing about him when he saw Paul in San Francisco a month ago.
We communicated back and forth via email into 2012, I shared with him rough mixes of my album that I’d asked him to be a part of, and he sent me the latest album he’d finished with his band Soft Crest. I don’t know what the plans for that album are, but I hope that it’s released in some fashion. It’s a dense and beautiful record full of dreamy soundscapes and big emotions. Attempting to speak objectively, I think it’s a very good record, possibly even Paul’s best.
In one of the last emails Paul wrote to me, he said, “It sucks that music is all that I want to do, but it’s been so difficult with everything else happening around me.” I thought that he was referring to his health problems, but now I wonder if there was something more to the statement. Who knows how much more he would’ve done had that not been the case, had this tragedy not taken place? And yet, Paul created so much while he could, more than anyone I’ve known could claim to have done. He wrote at least two records under the name Duologue (one self-titled and one called Levels), and a few simply as P.A. Harper, which I actually hadn’t heard until today. One of these EPs, Future Bones, is some of the strongest solo work I’ve ever heard from Paul. I wish it hadn’t taken such a terrible thing to bring me to discovering it. And I hope more people will listen to it, and will uncover everything else this inspiringly driven artist and loyal friend created during his absurdly brief life.
I’ll miss you, Paul. Thank you.
Here is an interesting conversation I had with Brooklyn duo Blondes and Norwegian “space-disco” veteran Lindstrøm about the many similarities and differences in their approaches to making sprawling dance tunes, the usage of the word “disco”, and their respective new LPs.