Lessons from jamming with a 3 year old

What I'm learning about embracing distraction & letting go

My most regular studio collaborator these days is my 3 year old daughter. “I didn’t know you were down here in your studio Dada!” she’ll say as she appears behind me, eyes adorably filled with wonder & excitement. It’s an enchanting place for a little kid to experience - a cozy den glowing with ambient light & bleeping machines, somewhat forbidden to her but it’s a place where her dad spends a lot of time so she’s naturally curious. It reminds me of what Kerri Chandler said about learning how to DJ when he was growing up - sneaking into the garage to play with his father’s turntables while his father was out of the house. Up until this point she has been a bit of a bull in a china shop around all of the gear so the studio had been for the most part off limits to her. My wife has had to act as the bouncer, preventing her from rushing in there any chance she can get. Recently though, there have been a couple of times where she wakes up from her nap & quietly makes her way downstairs to my studio where I’m tinkering away.

Every time she comes down there, she’ll notice any slight changes I’ve made to the space. She especially enjoyed seeing the giant microwave-sized oscilloscope from 1965 I just got off of eBay for $80. I’m constantly rearranging & refining my setup so it fits with my current workflow. Kids are such keen observers of their small yet rapidly expanding worlds, every detail ingrained in their brain. She’ll even notice when my own music is playing in the car, in between Peppa Pig & the Frozen soundtrack. I’m often listening to my ideas in lots of different places so I can get a better understanding of the tonal balance of a track & am looking for elements that just don’t quite translate in the same way in different listening environments (if it sounds right everywhere, then it’s ready to rock). “Did you make this in your basement Daddy?” she’ll ask. I was taken aback when she said that for the first time. She’s always paying attention with this beautifully innate sense of inquisitiveness.

On a good day in the studio, I’m ideally making progress on a promising idea or solving a problem I’ve been trying to troubleshoot. Both require an intense amount of focus during a brief window of studio time - hence the name of one of my tracks ‘Microscopic Moments of Focus’. For a split second an unexpected interruption usually causes some frustration but the feeling passes right by & I let her explore the space. Recently when she comes down there, I can feel a new kind of understanding from her. There’s curiosity of course but it’s coupled with a sense of respect that is slowly starting to emerge from her. She wants to be a part of what I’m doing & understands it’s a place for making sounds rather than just a playground. Kids can be wild & unpredictable but they’re so incredibly smart & intuitive. It’s fascinating to watch her develop a deeper, more thoughtful interest in this gear I spend so much time working with.

The other day when I was in the studio with a friend of mine (Downstairs J) she waltzed right in & instinctively sat right down in an extra chair that’s currently stationed in front of a couple of synths. No words were exchanged, she just started playing on the Moog Matriarch as if it was her instrument of choice - twisting knobs, pressing buttons, even grabbing patch cables & plugging them in. I quickly turned up the volume on my Moog DFAM playing to add some rhythm & just let her do her thing. “I’m busy” she cheekily says.

In the past, I’ve been a little more on guard with her in the studio but this time felt different. She focused on just one thing & was performing - trying to make us laugh but also showing us that she understood what these things are for. It was such a special moment & really made me feel excited for the way our musical relationship will evolve.

I never could’ve predicted the amount of patience I’ve developed in the last 3-4 years as a parent. There’s still a lot to learn but I’m noticing how much this little girl is teaching me, both in everyday life & in the studio. A big part of live performance is about letting go & just playing, which is something that doesn’t really come naturally to me. My brother was always the performer & it was so inspiring to see him do it for the majority of his life. I definitely feel a pull towards more live performance in my own life, whether it’s live sets with my own productions, improvising with my modular gear, or jams with friends (like this one from last year with my friend Hassan). It’s an exercise in spontaneity, vulnerability & mindfulness - something I don’t think I’d be ready for if it wasn’t for this little 3 year old.