This time we decided to do it on our own. 

After two EPs produced in two different studios, tightly budgeted and helped along with funding from savings, a government grant and family, I started to feel a growing sense of disillusionment around the whole process of releasing and promoting independent music. It wasn't that I regretted any of the decisions we had made as a band along the way, it was just that the last shreds of my naïveté around the music business were falling away. I came to the full realization that no third party was going to magically swoop in to help me take the project to the next level, and I was still largely at the same point as when I started regarding resources, money, and access to larger music industry things. 

I started to wonder “Well, what's next?” We had already released two labor intensive EPs that I was personally very proud of, we had maintained a dynamic schedule of live performances for years, we had a brand, a logo, and an active presence online and in the community. Despite these wins, the music industry has a way of making you, the unsigned, independent artist, feel almost completely invisible. The wide world of the Internet and social media, the cultural obsession with celebrity musicians, and the monstrously colossal amount of available music on streaming platforms repeatedly serve as a reminder of your smallness in this vast world. When your releases, one after another, do little more than cause an imperceptible “plop” in a large ocean of recorded music, it takes a very deep resolve to keep going.

The resolve that lights this ongoing fire is not one driven by things such as fear of failure or ego-driven fantasies of wild success. I have flirted with both, quite frequently, and I can never seem to gain any traction while creating from those places. No, what lights the fire for me is my unquenchable desire to bring beauty, connection, and ingenuity to this world. I want to bring out the best in others, and in myself too, eternally diving into aesthetics, philosophy, and meaning as opposed to living for material gain or power. 

I wasn't about to stop having come this far, so 2024 was as good a time as any for Também to take full control of our own production process from start to finish, whatever it took. Luckily, we had access to our bass player Andy's home studio and expertise and as a trio our setup was simple enough to give it a go. The result was quite fascinating to me. Given the elongated timeline for production we were able to let things marinate, chew on important decisions, A/B test different approaches to mic'ing things, and try out weird effects honing them until they really fit. We arranged while we went, cooking up a unique flavor of sound that we felt was completely our own. We even had the opportunity to work through differences in opinion about process. For example: How do you know when you're truly ready to record the damn thing? How much arranging should be done even before the intial bones of the track are recorded? What must be done in pre-production and what can be shunted off to post? Turns out there is a fair amount of grey area in each one of these questions and open communication is required to get to a shared, unified process. The quick timelines and turnarounds of renting studio time hadn't really allowed for a democratic process to truly unfold, but we found ourselves in some much needed conversations throughout the process of producing “Levinha.” 

In short, I'm thrilled with the result of our DIY project and I'll need a good bit of convincing to ever do it differently in the future. I never thought that a single track we produced could carry so much of our individual personalities, but “Levinha” somehow succeeds in marrying our trio's very disparate influences and identities as a trio. The knowledge that we can produce fully home-cooked music is certainly a significant win for Também, and for independent music on the whole, I believe. I could never have done this without Gastón and Andy and I am so proud of our work together. I hope you'll enjoy listening as much as we enjoyed making it! 

“Sequinho” is a tune I wrote last fall in an effort to lighten up my compositional process. At that time I felt like a bread baker that kept kneading the dough too long and creating something too dense and tough to handle. Out of near desperation I finally asked myself, “How can writing feel easy?” and “Sequinho” was born while engaging with that question. 

At that time I also happened to be taking a course with the pianist André Marques on baião, a type of music and dance that originated in northeastern Brazil. What really inspired me about André's course was that he not only covered baião rhythm but melodic and harmonic language used in the style. I became enamored with the stout triads and how they interacted with the shifty, elusive lydian dominant melodies. Top that off with an irresistibly fun groove founded on the tresillo pattern, and I was hooked. 

All the while André kept telling the students to play “tudo sequinho!” which meant to strike the notes with short accents, avoiding sustain. “Sequinho” literally translates to “little dry” and it seemed like a perfect name for a little tune that I would write over the course of a couple days, playfully experimenting with a two-chord progression and a modal melody. 

The full arrangement of Sequinho actually came together when I was about twelve weeks postpartum. I distinctly remember writing parts with a sleeping baby on my lap, trying not to wake little Juniper as I was singing the different parts under my breath. Something about this new life in my hands inspired me to keep writing, and I was only able to keep going through the exhaustion because I wasn't taking it too seriously. With a lot of help from our bass player, Andy Powell, I composed an arrangement for Sequinho that features violin, triangle, flute, and alto flute along with the rhythm section. I hope you all enjoy this fun little tune, we certainly had a blast recording it!

How would I explain to myself what I would go through between December 14th (the night I went into labor) and now if I had the ability to go back in time? The moment I felt my first contractions I was quickly catapulted into unfamiliar territory. Labor and delivery brought a strange kind of painful exhaustion and the weeks following were the truest test of endurance and stamina I've ever known. Sleepless, sweaty, milk-covered night after night, there were times I felt my grip on reality warping. 

Even so stopping did not feel like an option for me during the fog-filled months of January and February. I worked through the fatigue trying to book more venue dates, schedule rehearsals and practice music. I performed a residency at Boxyard RTP in February while dealing with breast infections, lethargy and mental chaos. The time when I was supposed to be resting my mind and my body I simply could not. I think this was caused by a vague fear that the music world would move right on without me and I would start to lose everything I had created. I was conflicted about what to place my attention on: my budding musical career or my newborn daughter? 

As I've inched forward to physical recovery after the birth my thought processes have cleared as well. More sleep, adjustment time, some good exercise and support from friends and family have all helped tremendously. As I feel stronger I have greater ability to hold space for multiple goals at once. 

One thing I did not expect was that my daughter Juniper would become such an enormous gift to my musical life. Like a little reset button she brought a joy and purpose to my spirit I didn't know was possible. I had spent years studying music in academic settings pulling music apart and piecing it back together, something I now realize is quite a destructive act (though sometimes necessary). 

This year has been entirely different. I have spent 2023 playing in front of the least judgmental audience that could possibly exist - a single baby. Did I miss a note? She didn't notice. Am I out of tune? She doesn't mind! She has loved my voice since she first heard it as a poppyseed in my womb. I'm learning that my voice has the power to soothe, to incite, to invite, to invigorate, to invoke interest, to delight. I'm learning that song is the best way to connect with the newest of minds who respond chiefly to the cadence of your voice rather than the actual words you're saying. I now understand why we have lullabies. I now understand why we make rhymes and poetry. There is something about children that reminds us why we make art in the first place. And I'm learning to look outward now as I play instead of pulling myself apart. 

-Ingrid Nora