Eli Winter is a composer, self-taught guitarist, essayist, and Houston native. His music synthesizes aspects of folk, rock, jazz, and devotional music, maintaining a waggish disregard for genre constraints emblematic of Chicago, his adopted hometown. Across five LPs and counting for labels like Three Lobed and American Dreams, the scope of his music has grown to include guitar soli, instrumental duets, and bandleading. He’s collaborated with a wide range of artists live and on record, including Yasmin Williams, jaimie branch, Caroline Rose, David Grubbs, Cameron Knowler, Asher White and Ryley Walker, and leads a trio featuring Chicago musicians Sam Wagster (pedal steel guitar) and Tyler Damon (drums).
Artist notes:
Ghost Notes emerged by accident. Part of the irony is that, from a material perspective, this music to some degree stems from circumstances that one would generally expect to be creatively enervating, but that inadvertently imposed productive restrictions on the music. Last January I led a quintet in two days of recording sessions at Electrical Audio. In a desperate attempt to satisfy a sudden critical change to a grant project, Andrew Khedoori and I had half-seriously hatched an organizing concept for the music I’d make. Several months before, walking around Queens Park in Glasgow, an offhand idea emerged for a record in which I’d write, facilitate and arrange music for an ad hoc ensemble, then pull my own contributions out and allow what was left to stand. For some reason, the music of Natural Information Society, a singular Chicago band whose work I adore (and by work I mean not just music, but work), was my frame of reference. When Andrew and I first discussed the project, as we talked about music we loved, we both, out of love, blurted out “Natural Information Society” at almost exactly the same time. What I had to do was clear.
My mission had become to reverse-engineer their music. How I thought I’d accomplish this is outside the purview of this writing. What you hear today stems from my failure to execute my original ideas. For reasons too many and varied to expand upon here, I had the luxury of sitting with the music for the better part of a year: three hours and ten minutes’ worth from the sessions alone. It stumped me. I simply didn’t know what to do. For months all I had to console myself was the comfort of two running titles that turned me into a giggle factory: “Ode to Bud Adams’ Rotting Corpse” and “Natural Imitation Society”. Eventually I moved through an intense depression I could describe as at best thematically relevant. And then, by circumstance, by virtue of the unconscious work communicating to me what the music wanted to be, as I moved outside of the depression and stepped gingerly back into my life, the music arrived. It had everything it needed from itself. It just needed my attention.
At the moment, the most I can say is that, without realizing it, I was effectively sampling myself and the music of my ad-hoc ensemble. What lineage do I have for this? Too many bar mitzvah parties. From Houston, the band Culturcide’s record Tacky Souvenirs of Pre-Revolutionary America, and from Chicago, the recent work of Anteloper, Makaya McCraven, and the International Anthem label. But none of these are direct influences on the music (except the bar mitzvah parties). Beyond the prerequisite of the work, as always, holding my interest and having the desired emotional effects on me, I wasn’t looking for anything. It found me. It arrived.
The title comes from a phrase I heard from my dear friend and bandmate Tyler Damon. Tyler was telling me about a bell ensemble he plays in with Janet Bean and Michael Zerang. Zerang would talk about the importance of ghost notes, silent notes as you ring the bells (or something like that). In last January’s recording sessions, Cooper Crain, brilliant recording engineer, had worked hard to isolate every instrument within the studio space so the music could move outside of linear time. Unavoidably, naturally, as is the nature of recording, there’s bleed in all these odd places. And it comes out in the music, as you might have already noticed. The music, I hope, integrates the bleed within itself, but the bleed can’t go away. In the same way as, because of the lack of isolation, there are some notes that aren’t supposed to be there, but they’re there anyway, and you just have to work with them, so, too, trauma, whatever it is, for anyone who has it, and that learning to live with it as best one can is preferable to the alternative, where it comes out in ways you maybe don’t mean or recognize or want, but it haunts you.
I hope for this music to further develop into an LP. Thank you for listening, sharing, believing, and helping that process along.
My mission had become to reverse-engineer their music. How I thought I’d accomplish this is outside the purview of this writing. What you hear today stems from my failure to execute my original ideas. For reasons too many and varied to expand upon here, I had the luxury of sitting with the music for the better part of a year: three hours and ten minutes’ worth from the sessions alone. It stumped me. I simply didn’t know what to do. For months all I had to console myself was the comfort of two running titles that turned me into a giggle factory: “Ode to Bud Adams’ Rotting Corpse” and “Natural Imitation Society”. Eventually I moved through an intense depression I could describe as at best thematically relevant. And then, by circumstance, by virtue of the unconscious work communicating to me what the music wanted to be, as I moved outside of the depression and stepped gingerly back into my life, the music arrived. It had everything it needed from itself. It just needed my attention.
At the moment, the most I can say is that, without realizing it, I was effectively sampling myself and the music of my ad-hoc ensemble. What lineage do I have for this? Too many bar mitzvah parties. From Houston, the band Culturcide’s record Tacky Souvenirs of Pre-Revolutionary America, and from Chicago, the recent work of Anteloper, Makaya McCraven, and the International Anthem label. But none of these are direct influences on the music (except the bar mitzvah parties). Beyond the prerequisite of the work, as always, holding my interest and having the desired emotional effects on me, I wasn’t looking for anything. It found me. It arrived.
The title comes from a phrase I heard from my dear friend and bandmate Tyler Damon. Tyler was telling me about a bell ensemble he plays in with Janet Bean and Michael Zerang. Zerang would talk about the importance of ghost notes, silent notes as you ring the bells (or something like that). In last January’s recording sessions, Cooper Crain, brilliant recording engineer, had worked hard to isolate every instrument within the studio space so the music could move outside of linear time. Unavoidably, naturally, as is the nature of recording, there’s bleed in all these odd places. And it comes out in the music, as you might have already noticed. The music, I hope, integrates the bleed within itself, but the bleed can’t go away. In the same way as, because of the lack of isolation, there are some notes that aren’t supposed to be there, but they’re there anyway, and you just have to work with them, so, too, trauma, whatever it is, for anyone who has it, and that learning to live with it as best one can is preferable to the alternative, where it comes out in ways you maybe don’t mean or recognize or want, but it haunts you.
I hope for this music to further develop into an LP. Thank you for listening, sharing, believing, and helping that process along.
Eli Winter: production/beats, samples (of past releases, concerts, rehearsals + recording sessions), acoustic guitars (6- and 12-string), electric guitar, piano, harmonium, vocals
Andrew Scott Young: upright bass
Gerrit Hatcher: tenor saxophone
Jonathan Gardner: drums
Sam Wagster: pedal steel guitar
Tyler Damon: drums
Tracked by Cooper Crain at Electrical Audio, Chicago, January 2023 / by Will Stanton at 411 Kent, Brooklyn, January 2023 / at Public Records, Brooklyn, September 2023 / various phone recordings at home in Chicago, 2023 / samples from The Time To Come (Worried Songs, 2020 / Blue Hole, 2019).
Mixed by Mark Yoshizumi.
Thank you to the City of Chicago’s Department of Cultural Affairs and Special Events, who allowed me to discover what the music needed from me. This music comes from their material support, which funded two days of work at Electrical Audio, payment for those sessions to Cooper Crain, Sam Wagster, Tyler Damon, Gerrit Hatcher and Andrew Scott Young, and payment to Mark Yoshizumi for mixing. It also comes from the Luminarts Cultural Foundation and Ox-Bow, who allowed me to reflect on how this music had developed, and from the particular kindness, gregariousness and patience of Andrew Khedoori, who watched and offered support as this music shepherded me through a wilderness. Special thanks to those who worked with me at Electrical Audio, who trust fell with me for two long, cold days, to David Watson and Will Stanton for allowing me to record at Shift and Sruly Lazaros for the same at Public Records, and to Mark Yoshizumi, who not only mixed this difficult project efficiently and with care, but literally gave me the shirt out of his drawer when I was in need. Mikel Patrick Avery gave kind, generative advice early in the process. Rian Bobbitt-Chertock not only shared their characteristic grace and lifted my spirits inarticulably, but connected me with Kashika Kollaikal, who provided me with music of her own that gave this music perspective and blew it wide open. Jordan Reyes gave me a spare license of Ableton Live 10 to work in, among many other intangible things, which made this music possible. All sorts of friends whom I admire—including but not limited to Annelyse Gelman, Sruly Lazaros, Luke Sutherland, Abbie Minard, Eli Schmitt, Asher White, Izzy Fradin, Ben Lasky, Gabe Barrón, Cyrus Pacht, JB Hunter, Daniel Bachman, David Grubbs, Sam Wagster, Tyler Damon, Meg Fahy, Jesse Stein, Jonathan Gardner, Ryley Walker, Walker Landgraf, Rachel Winter, Erez Dessel, David Sexton—helped me move through the work and dark stretches. I’m very grateful to my friend Nathan Comer for our friendship and work together. As part of the engine for an unexpected, serendipitous friendship, an offhand remark from Eileen Myles helped me more than they know. Dust and Kate Reid, …by their individual and collective examples. And to Joshua Abrams, who helped me plant the seed.
Andrew Scott Young: upright bass
Gerrit Hatcher: tenor saxophone
Jonathan Gardner: drums
Sam Wagster: pedal steel guitar
Tyler Damon: drums
Tracked by Cooper Crain at Electrical Audio, Chicago, January 2023 / by Will Stanton at 411 Kent, Brooklyn, January 2023 / at Public Records, Brooklyn, September 2023 / various phone recordings at home in Chicago, 2023 / samples from The Time To Come (Worried Songs, 2020 / Blue Hole, 2019).
Mixed by Mark Yoshizumi.
Thank you to the City of Chicago’s Department of Cultural Affairs and Special Events, who allowed me to discover what the music needed from me. This music comes from their material support, which funded two days of work at Electrical Audio, payment for those sessions to Cooper Crain, Sam Wagster, Tyler Damon, Gerrit Hatcher and Andrew Scott Young, and payment to Mark Yoshizumi for mixing. It also comes from the Luminarts Cultural Foundation and Ox-Bow, who allowed me to reflect on how this music had developed, and from the particular kindness, gregariousness and patience of Andrew Khedoori, who watched and offered support as this music shepherded me through a wilderness. Special thanks to those who worked with me at Electrical Audio, who trust fell with me for two long, cold days, to David Watson and Will Stanton for allowing me to record at Shift and Sruly Lazaros for the same at Public Records, and to Mark Yoshizumi, who not only mixed this difficult project efficiently and with care, but literally gave me the shirt out of his drawer when I was in need. Mikel Patrick Avery gave kind, generative advice early in the process. Rian Bobbitt-Chertock not only shared their characteristic grace and lifted my spirits inarticulably, but connected me with Kashika Kollaikal, who provided me with music of her own that gave this music perspective and blew it wide open. Jordan Reyes gave me a spare license of Ableton Live 10 to work in, among many other intangible things, which made this music possible. All sorts of friends whom I admire—including but not limited to Annelyse Gelman, Sruly Lazaros, Luke Sutherland, Abbie Minard, Eli Schmitt, Asher White, Izzy Fradin, Ben Lasky, Gabe Barrón, Cyrus Pacht, JB Hunter, Daniel Bachman, David Grubbs, Sam Wagster, Tyler Damon, Meg Fahy, Jesse Stein, Jonathan Gardner, Ryley Walker, Walker Landgraf, Rachel Winter, Erez Dessel, David Sexton—helped me move through the work and dark stretches. I’m very grateful to my friend Nathan Comer for our friendship and work together. As part of the engine for an unexpected, serendipitous friendship, an offhand remark from Eileen Myles helped me more than they know. Dust and Kate Reid, …by their individual and collective examples. And to Joshua Abrams, who helped me plant the seed.