Alice Cohen has manifested throughout alternative music history in improbable ways, from MTV-era new wave with The Vels to Michael Stipe-produced grunge to 2000s hypnagogic pop. Her latest album, Archaeology, might be her most revealing work yet, which feels almost paradoxical given its prominent use of instrumental tracks. The record seeps through the accumulated layers of a 13-year Brooklyn residency, where her apartment has become something like an archaeological site. Cohen plays her father’s old Yamaha drum machine live rather than programming it, maintaining a tactile connection to family history. The songs bathe us in both intimacy and mystery, and when Cohen removes words entirely, something within the sonic shapes clarifies and offers some kind of answer.
Alice’s new album, Archaeology, will be released this Friday, October 3 and can be pre-ordered HERE.
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Growing up with jazz musicians as parents, what was the first sound or moment that made you realize you needed to make your own music rather than inherit theirs?
I was fortunate to have grown up hearing Herbie Hancock, Bill Evans, and others on our turntable as a kid. Some of those melodies were really beautiful to me, even as a small child with unsophisticated ears. But some of the more free-form jazz sounded too intense and confusing to me… and being the 60s, I was also hearing the Beatles, the Supremes, and had a transistor AM radio I’d listen to in bed at night, which had a huge impact. I was watching Jerry Blavat ( a local DJ who had a teen dance program on TV), and it was all the fun pop stuff that excited me the most. I learned to dance by watching these teen TV shows. It’s hard now to pinpoint a moment or particular sound that made me want to make music, but I remember singing melodies to myself in bed at night as a young child to see what I could invent. And I remember writing an actual song with verses on an acoustic guitar at summer camp when I was 12… it was a wistful folk song about not wanting to leave camp at the end of the summer. The refrain was “I really don’t want to leave so soon..” and I can still remember the words and melody.
You won that radio contest in 1979 and recorded “Save The Best For Last” in the same Philadelphia studio where Bowie made “Young Americans.” What did 19-year-old Alice understand about making music that still guides you today?
At that time, I’d already been writing songs for a few years. Bowie was for sure a big influence on me when I was 14 and 15, along with the New York Dolls and other glammy stuff. The excitement and theatricality of dressing up and playing a character appealed to me, along with all the gender-bending stuff. 1979 also had punk going on, but I was still involved in disco and funk, living in Philadelphia and playing with musicians who played R&B and soul music.
For “Save the Best for Last”, I had written a complicated bass line on the piano – but our bass player, Michael Radcliffe, who had played with Double Exposure and the Salsoul Orchestra, could easily transpose it to the bass. Although punk had the philosophy that anyone can play an instrument, and I agree with that…the musicians I worked with were players with great chops, and their musicianship really helped the song out. I could see that having proficient people involved, whether the musicians, or in this case, the producer, too, who was Larry Gold and had produced “Ain’t No Stopping Us Now” by McFadden and Whitehead. – was really valuable. I think I understood then (and now) that writing a good song is key – and I still try to keep working on songcraft. Surrounding yourself with inspiring musicians, too, definitely helps. A strong melody that sticks in your head, a solid groove or rhythmic feel, and avoiding predictability are things I’ve usually strived for.
You’ve called your Brooklyn apartment an archaeological site after 13 years of accumulation. When you’re digging through those layers of books, photos, and ephemera, what’s the most surprising thing you’ve unearthed about yourself?
I’m very attached to things from my past. I’m a bit of a magpie and collect things both important and unimportant if they hold some meaning or inspiration for me. Bits of collage are the worst offenders, but books, records, clothes, and jewelry I tend to hang onto as well. It’s not to the point of hoarding, but it’s probably healthier to let some of it go. As far as finding something surprising, perhaps it’s the crayon and pencil drawings from way back in childhood that remind me I’m pretty much the same person I always was…the same humor is there and the same attraction to things mysterious and odd.
The instrumental tracks on Archaeology feel like the most direct pathway to your inner world. What do you discover about Alice Cohen when the words fall away?
I think that nonverbal melody and harmony communicate just as well, and maybe more easily than words. Without words, we can be in a more childlike, non-verbal, dreamlike space where thoughts are more open and less defined or nailed down to one particular meaning. Though I tend to visualize the same things over and over for each instrumental track, other people can let it take them wherever they choose…without lyrics dictating a particular theme or idea. What do I discover about myself? I guess that imagination is an escape and a refuge for me. Maybe the instrumental tracks help me go there.
You’re using your father’s Yamaha drum machine from the early ’80s, but playing it live rather than programming it. There’s something beautiful about that tactile connection to family history. How does that physical relationship to inherited instruments shape what emerges?
I think I have become strongly attached to things from the past, and it’s hard to let go. Whereas some people embrace new technology and reach for the newest programs and gadgets, I’ve remained somewhat old school. I guess I find comfort in working with familiar instruments and equipment from my past, especially if they’re connected to my family, since all of my immediate family are gone now (brother, mother, and father). It feels like it helps carry a connecting thread from the past with my family history and their musical legacy that they passed on to me. I recently did some recording for some new songs, with my father’s old vibraphones, and it was a very gratifying experience, because of that connection.
The stop-motion video for “Archaeology” shows you literally inserting yourself into these ancient Egyptian landscapes. What drew you to that visual language of tombs and temples for exploring personal mysteries?
I’ve been attracted to ancient Egypt since I was a kid, when I saw Elizabeth Taylor in Cleopatra, at the drive-in movie theater with my mom. I used to put on plays in our yard with necklaces on my head, to emulate the headdresses Cleopatra wore. The art and imagery of Egypt always evoked beauty, fantasy, and imagination for me. If I believed in past lives, I think ancient Egypt could have been one of mine, as the imagery, such as ancient temples, has literally appeared in my dreams. I can also be a bit of a pack rat and hang on to all kinds of stuff from my past…the idea of a tomb holding these belongings and memories, and collecting dust as we age along with them, holds relevance. My apartment, though I love it and it reflects my personality with all these sorts of personal artifacts around, can also remind me of a tomb if I think about aging and dying in here with all my stuff. As I get older, it’s hard not to think of what people will find in here after I die, and what those objects will tell about my life, and how I will be remembered.
Your creative practice has moved through so many different ecosystems, from major label new wave to underground grunge to bedroom pop. How has your relationship to the act of making music itself changed?
With major labels and being in bands, it was a much more involved process with many people to deal with along the way. There was more money involved and big studios, producers, and so on. As the years have gone by, I obviously didn’t stay in the major label world, so I had to adapt to a more DIY way of doing things. Writing songs has always been a home-spun process, experimenting in my little home practice area…but when I got into home-recording – for instance, using a 4-track cassette player, things really changed. Before that, I was literally using two small hand-held tape players and going back and forth, layering in a really primitive way. So the 4-track cassette opened up a world of layering for me that was huge. Layering and arranging are a big part of how I create, but before that, I was reliant on having a band and going into a proper recording studio. After the 4-track, I got an 8-track all-in-one digital recorder, and then eventually learned ProTools. So, lots of recording at home is, I guess, the biggest change. With unlimited tracks, you can really go crazy with multi-tracking. The other big change is that not having a manager or record label means a lot more work for me when I put out music – I have to create videos, and be a promoter and booking agent as well. In some ways, it’s much more exhausting and harder to keep up with all the social media posting and things like that, that I never had to deal with in the past.
You’ve talked about albums as attempts to “reveal or uncover more of yourself.” What was buried that Archaeology helped you find?
The ability to actually trust myself enough to get this project done and out into the world – although there were people helping me track at home (mostly longtime collaborator Bryce Hackford) – involved fewer people than I usually bring into projects. I played all the parts. I eventually made the decision to release it myself on my own label. For this record, I also wanted to try having a little more of the instrumental songs, and kind of keeping things simple and not overthinking everything. It seemed to fall into place the more I let go of overanalyzing. As far as uncovering more of myself, as I get older, I think I know myself better, and can be more honest and have less to hide or be cagey about. I’m not sure if this album actually reveals so much more of myself or not; uncovering is really still a work in progress.
What’s remained constant in your creative process across all these different musical identities? Is there a through-line only you can see?
I try to start with a good song, whatever that means for me. Even if it’s an instrumental, I’m looking for a melody, bassline, or something catchy about it that makes me want to complete the piece. A lot of times this is trial and error, and often it’s just waiting for an idea to strike or a melody to come into my head. I probably should sit down regularly and just try to write much more often, but I’m fairly inconsistent that way, and usually get inspired at odd times, like while walking down the street, and something will pop into my head. The through-line is that I want to continue being a musician/songwriter as long as I can, even if I sometimes have doubts that many people even care. It’s a big part of my identity and way of expressing myself, it’s who I am, and what excites me the most.
Many songs on Archaeology reflect the daily realities of life in your neighborhood: sunrise in the park, daydreaming in variety stores. How does the rhythm of Brooklyn life infiltrate your music?
Although I love nature, I’m definitely a city person. This is mainly because I don’t like driving a car. So I walk a lot and become part of the landscape of city life. Even in my relatively quiet Brooklyn neighborhood, there’s a pulse and a rhythm with lots of life and activity going on. I’m kind of a loner and love my solitude, but I also am fascinated by things I see in the neighborhood – especially neighborhood characters. Also, environments inspire me – buildings, parks, nature..I see stories in all these things – moods, feelings, and seasons which make me want to write. As it’s all ephemeral, and there’s something beautiful about that. Variety stores, diners, and common places we all experience contain meaning for me. It doesn’t have to be big or grandiose to have poignancy.
What’s the longest thread you can trace through your entire body of work? Something that connects that first funk single to Archaeology?
A strong song always feels like the goal, and I strive for that. You’re not gonna strike gold every time, but when a melody enters my head or a lyric idea pops up, you gotta grab it. I don’t usually sit down to write a song; they just “come” now and then, and it feels like a magical thing if they happen to flow easily during the writing process. For me, it’s joyful when these different puzzle pieces connect and link up into a whole. I’m not sure that’s a “thread” exactly, but I think the marriage of an emotional feeling with melody, chords, moving around phrases and genres is something I’ve always played with when writing material or composing instrumentals… they create a kind of synesthesia where the song makes me visualize things or vice versa: visualizing things brings forth a song. And if it’s something simple – a simple idea, that’s even better. I don’t like things that sound too overworked or purposely overcomplicated. Just let the song take its course.
What’s the next layer you’re curious to uncover?
I can’t say I really know what the next layer will be. Maybe having my songs and music be less about me. One recent song is about a neighbor who passed away, and that felt really good to honor her and take things out of my own world, although she was part of my neighborhood world! That layer would not be a layer going into myself, but coming out of myself. I’m such a loner that I can get stuck too deeply inside my own head, so maybe it’s time to come out of there a bit. More collaboration and so on. I’d also like to get more into writing on the guitar, as I’ve been very keyboard-oriented for a number of years. So we’ll see. Being honest and uncomplicated is something I’m trying to get deeper into as I go along, rather than hiding things under complications. On the other hand, I do love layers. I think just exploring whatever obsessions I’m currently obsessed with – there are always at least a few.
And as always, to close, what are some of your favorite sounds in the world?
Insects in trees at night in the summer, birds singing in the morning, rain, ocean waves crashing, Bermudian tree frogs, and silence.
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