Interview with Ali Watson
Chatting with the Scottish bassist about exposure to different methods, local traditions, and playing wild.
Born in the Scottish Highlands, growing up in Glasgow and Studying in London, 25 year old bass player Ali Watson has recently been making waves with his quartet comprising an all star band of Glasgow musicians – Matt Carmichael, Alan Benzie and Greg Irons. Releasing their debut album in November this year, Watson is excited to present his new, freshly polished material.
With influence from contemporary jazz, Scottish folk and 20th century impressionist classical music, the band quietly transcends traditional genres to produce a set of complex yet accessible music comprising lyrical melodies and thoughtful improvisations.
Eli Thayer: You were born in Scotland, moved to London for university, and then went back to Glasgow. What brought you back, and how have you found the change?
Ali Watson: I spend a lot of time talking quite negatively about London, which is a bit unfair. I had a great time while I was there. I was in London for five years, studying at Guildhall. It was a great thing to do, and I’m glad I went there. I met loads of great people and heard loads of great music that I definitely wouldn’t have been exposed to if I’d just stayed in Glasgow. I met loads of great teachers, and great people in general.
After being there for four years, I decided I would stick around another year and see how that goes. And depending on how it goes, I might move back to Scotland. It was really intense, and obviously expensive. One thing that I really like about Glasgow is that because of the size of the city, there’s a nice level of tight-knittedness in the jazz scene there. Everyone gets to know each other fairly quickly, but it’s not like there’s only, like, five jazz musicians. It’s a nice balance of having people to play with, but also being familiar enough with everyone to have a nice community that forms as a result. It means that you play, meet, and chat with people who are more experienced than you, as well as those who are less experienced. I think that’s a really nice thing. It’s healthy for everyone’s development. That’s a thing in London obviously, but it’s more of a thing in Glasgow.
That’s the music answer. I grew up in Glasgow, so it’s kind of special to me for that reason. But I also like the countryside a lot, I like it being a little bit quieter. And it’s cheaper to live in. Also, my family and my girlfriend live here. Makes it a little bit easier.
ET: There’s a trend in Scottish jazz of embracing the natural side of Scotland, and trying to make music from and for that. Have you always felt connected to Scottish nature?
AW: Actually, going back to the other question, the Scottish folk thing is another significant difference between Glasgow and London. London’s got influences from loads of other places, which is really cool.
But I think living somewhere else made me appreciate all the Scottish stuff a bit more. I feel like I took it for granted a little bit when I was growing up. It gives you a sense of perspective when you travel to lots of different places and see what is there. It’s helped me appreciate what is special about the music. I didn’t care much for Scottish folk music, to be honest. I associated it with tourism. My mum and dad didn’t like it much either, despite them being from Orkney. But over time I realised that there’s loads of really cool folk music in Scotland. I think the association with tourism -- it almost being an export -- put me off from it, which is a shame.
ET: What was your childhood music? Just jazz all the time?
AW: I got into jazz when I joined my regional schools jazz band when I was fourteen. I listened to loads of jazz. I’m quite a stereotypical young person who goes on to be into jazz. I really like Radiohead; it was almost all I listened to for a year. I like rock music. My dad is really into dad rock. I liked the band Muse before that. My mom’s a piano teacher as well, and my sister went on to do music. I studied music in school, as well. I got dragged along to a lot of classical concerts, which I didn’t really like to be honest. I kind of hated it! I’d have the programme, and my mum would write a little star next to every third piece, which would mean I could have another sweet. I was really looking forward to it being over. But I do think it was great for developing my ears.
ET: In the album notes you mention impressionist classical music as an inspiration. Where did that love develop from, and what influence did it have on your composition process?
AW: That’s definitely come from my mum’s piano lessons, just hearing mostly classical piano from the other room in the house. That music has a special thing for me, having grown up hearing Debussy and whatnot. In terms of composition, I would mostly write on the piano in my mum’s house. It’s a really nice piano, and I would often play with the mute pedal on, which gives it quite a particular sound. It lends itself to certain feelings.
I listened to a lot of impressionist music in the lockdown. It’s nice for taking me into this world of sound, this dreamworld. I was quite taken by that. It definitely inspired my compositions, or at least what I’m trying to go for with the music on my album. Trying to create this sense of getting taken into this other place in your head.
ET: I wanted to ask about the album’s title. Terrarium, to me, evokes an artificial suspension of nature, which is a beautiful thing but is also disconnected from the common perception of Scotland as this “wild land”. What were you thinking of when you decided on the title?
AW: That’s pretty much what I thought as well. There’s a few reasons why I thought the name Terrarium fit the music quite well, and that is definitely one of them. I call my music jazz-folk, or Scottish folk-influenced jazz, but I wouldn’t call myself a folk musician. I don’t know much in the way of the traditional music repertoire. I haven’t listened to much Scottish folk. But at the same time, growing up in Scotland you’re going to be exposed to that music, and I’ve played in Matt Carmichael’s band, who is influenced by it. I listen to a lot of people who are influenced by it second-hand, which is probably the wrong way around, to be honest. It’s not a folk album, I guess. It’s got influences from nature and the wilds, but it’s also got influences from other stuff which isn’t like that, which is why I thought the terrarium concept would fit well. It’s got that little bit of nature inside an artificial construct, essentially. That was one reason
Another big reason is I like the idea of having something artificially created. People spend a long time meticulously moving around little bits of moss inside a terrarium to make it fit for display, which I thought fit with writing the compositions. You can see pictures of terrariums which are ten years old, and the whole jar will be filled with plants. It’s a complete mess because nature has taken over. I’m hoping that in playing the music on gigs, it’s going to become a bit more wild as everyone else in the band takes it in their own directions. Even in rehearsals, I was looking for input from everybody else. Like, “Please, tell me what you think!” Just looking for ideas and trying to turn it into a band thing, as opposed to just my written out music.
ET: Do you find that idea of perfection to be at all in conflict with jazz? I think that some people would see some issues in trying to apply this model of a suspended perfect world to music that’s about improvisation and imperfections.
AW: Recently I’m getting more comfortable with the idea of not trying to make something perfect. It’s not something I’m worrying about so much. I struggled a little bit with that when I first started writing music -- and playing, as well. I used to transcribe a lot, and I’d always know that there was more that could be done. When you make a recording, it’s always going to be an accurate reflection of where you’re at. I guess I’m just looking for something where I can listen back to it and think, “That’s generally done the job. It’s generally done all the things I’m looking forward to doing.”
It’s interesting, perfection. People have different views of what that is. People who aren’t as familiar with jazz music might listen to classic things, like Thelonious Monk, and go, “This guy’s rubbish, he’s playing all the wrong notes!” But in his head, he might’ve been thinking, “This is perfect, to me.”
In regards to the terrarium, I think I see what you mean. I think that’s part of why it’s ended up becoming wild, like the old terrarium turning into a natural mess. You can spend ages messing around with little details, but at the end of the day there’s always going to be a flaw that you can see. Maybe it’s good for it to be that way, because it’s human. You want to make music that’s human.
ET: When I was listening through the record, the two words that came to mind most were ‘patient’ and ‘cohesive’. I found it to be quite remarkable in those ways. When you’re writing and performing these tunes, are you consciously thinking about restraint? Is that a conscious way of differentiating yourself from the wider landscape of contemporary jazz, or is that just your natural approach?
AW: Another big influence is ECM, which I got really into in the past year or so. Mannfred Eicher is famous for really valuing things like patience and space, and I was definitely inspired by that. Maybe it fits with my character. I’m not a very extroverted person, and I’m not a very high-energy person. I feel that I usually do more thinking than speaking, which is funny to say while doing an interview.
Maybe it’s also something to do with growing older. I’ve noticed that I’ve changed a lot. Most people change quite a lot as they get older, as musicians. I don’t know if it’s something to do with how your brain develops, but combined with the experience of playing with people, you develop this peripheral, aural vision. It helps when you’re playing with a great band, for starters. You can enjoy listening to everyone else a lot. I do care about my own playing a lot, but I’ve become more at ease with not feeling like I need to be constantly contributing loads to the band. It’ll be naturally happening anyway. Most of the best musicians, their music kind of plays itself. I feel like I’m playing the best when I’m not really thinking about anything that’s going on. I’m not thinking, “Okay, I’m gonna lay out for ages here”. Sometimes it can be useful to do that, but it’s usually just a flow state, it’s just happening. It’s great; you feel like an observer of what’s going on. It’s a bit of a paradox, because you’re also engaging with it. It’s a little bit mysterious.
I think it helps that I like listening to music with lots of space in it. I like going to a concert where there’s a really quiet audience. I’m really into quiet stuff as well. I don’t know why exactly, but I find that relaxing -- well, not exactly relaxing. I wrote a bit in the liner notes that I want the music to be an escape from everyday stimulations. Living in London, there’s a lot going on. It’s a nice contrast to general life, when you’re thinking about all sorts of things and worrying about things. I like when you can be listening and playing, just there in the moment and not worrying about anything else.
ET: There’s two moments I picked out that to me seemed emblematic of the rewards of that approach, and I’d love it if you could break them down for me. One is from the piano solo on ‘Evening Song’. Alan Benzie whips out a Brad Mehldau-style outside lick, which is the sort of thing you hear a lot on not just Mehldau’s records, but in the playing of the generation that he has influenced. This one struck me as more memorable for being the only such instance on your album.
The other one is the title track, the structure of which is a dramatic, gradual build from this soft ostinato to a dramatic climax. You hear that type of form in, say, Fergus McCreadie’s music, as well as across contemporary jazz (and indie rock, for that matter). Again, when it’s only once on the album, I think it makes these moments much more impactful.
AW: Everyone talks about creating a journey, or a sense of narrative through the album. The title track is maybe my least favourite on its own. But a big part of the decision to include it was that I thought it functioned well in contrast to the other tunes. It’s dramatic, it’s got quite a lot of chords in the solo section, it’s a little more through-composed. I thought a lot about the track listing on the album, and I thought it really helped with the overall arc of the listening experience. Maybe it was influenced by Radiohead. I still do like them a lot; I’ve been listening to The Smile’s new record. Something I’m always struck by with their music is how you can really tell everything’s really thought-out, in terms of how each part affects the rest of the song or the record. They’re not just thinking, “This is a cool thing, let’s just throw it in somewhere randomly”. That kind of attention to detail, in terms of looking at how every part affects the whole, has always been a big point for me. I’ve always paid a lot of attention to that, both listening to other music and making my own.
In terms of the bit in Alan’s solo, well, it’s Alan’s solo, you know? I don’t know what’s going on in his head. But we were both playing at The Jazz Bar the other week, just a Saturday night quintet gig. Probably my favourite one I’ve done so far. I played a solo on one of the tunes, and I remember thinking in the moment, “Gosh, that was a really fun solo. This is all sounding really great.” I had this moment of realisation. I had quite a lot on that week, and I didn’t feel like I was playing better, particularly. What made it a solo that I liked was what everyone else was doing. I really liked Alan’s comping. I like music where it’s not just the soloist totally in the limelight all the time, with everyone else being a robot accompanist. I enjoy music where it’s got a dialogue between all the musicians. That was obviously a piano solo on ‘Evening Song’, and I thought he played it great. We only did one take of that tune, and he felt like he played a great solo because of what me and Greg [Irons] were doing. We were functioning really well as a unit. Great solos, in my opinion, are usually just as much a result of the accompaniment.
ET: That’s a great point. Another trend in modern Scottish jazz is giving songs one-word nature names. What inspired you to follow in that tradition, and how close is the community to running out of song titles?
AW: That’s something I’m obviously aware of. Again, with Matt and his band, and Fergus, and loads of other people before them, it’s a bit of a cliche to do that. I think a lot of people find giving titles to music quite a tricky thing. I guess it’s a cliche ‘cause it works, right? I think the nature thing works nicely because it’s not too direct. It lends itself to different interpretations. Most people that I know, including myself, when they write compositions aren’t thinking of the story and the title behind it when we write it. We write the composition, and figure out what inspired it afterwards. Usually what inspires it is not something super specific, or something that’s easy for you to figure out yourself, which lends itself well to more broad themes and titles.
My album’s called Terrarium, so the idea with the titles is that they’re different parts of the terrarium. Maybe because it’s something that’s been done a lot already, I was careful to not just randomly go, “This one’s called ‘Moss’. That’s easy, that’ll work.” I tried to make sure there were other connections. I wrote the tune ‘Moss’ during the lockdown; I was walking around in Lenzie, and there’s a bit called the Lenzie Moss which is a nice, 45-minute walk through natural boglands. I walked around it most days, and it’s something that I associate with the time that I wrote that tune. So there’s meaning below the surface with the titles.
Personally, I think that people can get hung up on titles sometimes. You should pay attention to everything, but I wouldn’t be too upset if people keep calling tunes by the same titles. Maybe what’s more important is what inspired the process of writing the music. And if the end result is similar titles, it doesn’t bother me too much, as long as there are different processes underlying it.
ET: What was it like to work with one of the leading voices in this style in Matt Carmichael?
AW: Great! I’ve known Matt for a while now; we both played in the same regional schools jazz orchestra when we were fourteen. I feel really lucky. Having people like Matt, someone who you’ve played together with from a young age, is really valuable, and not that common. You follow similar-ish paths and know each other’s playing really well. My band has only been playing together for a couple of years. I had a couple of slightly different ensembles before with people I also knew quite well, but from the first rehearsal with this group it felt easy. It was great, I was really happy.
Matt’s managed to do so well for himself, which is cool to see. He’s a really hard worker. He said he used to practise through all his breaks in school. It’s great to grow up with people and see them become successful. I’m lucky to have people like that. I also play in his band, so we know each other. It’s nice to have people in life who you have these connections with.
ET: Have you known Greg Irons and Alan Benzie for a long time, too?
AW: I think I’ve known Matt for the longest, but I’ve technically known Alan for a long time as well. He’s a little bit older than I am. I first met him when I was fourteen or fifteen, auditioning for the Strathclyde Youth Jazz Orchestra. It doesn’t exist anymore, but at the time it was a pretty high level youth jazz orchestra. It’s a shame that it’s not going anymore. I didn’t really know what I was doing, and I didn’t get in the band, for good reason! Like, I couldn’t read chord symbols at all. Alan conducted that band, and we bumped into each other quite a lot afterward. I think when we first met, he thought, “This guy’s gonna be decent in a few years”.
I don’t remember when I first met Greg. Maybe we played at The Butterfly and the Pig together when I was eighteen. But I’ve played with him on a lot of random gigs over the years. I always really liked his sensibility to the music. He told me the other day that he’s never broken a drumstick. He plays really delicately. You can tell he’s always listening to everyone else. I actually have to encourage him to play louder and go for it more, which is a really nice problem to have with a drummer!
ET: What impact has it had to have supportive teachers and mentors like Alan?
AW: Definitely massive. I’ve had a lot of teachers, which is really nice. One teacher who really helped me out with playing the instrument was John Van Lierop. He’s a classical bass player. I was lucky to get lessons with him in my last year of school. I moved schools to Douglas Academy, which is one of the music schools in Scotland. I showed up like, “I can play quite hard stuff now, I’ve got my grade 7, grade 8”, and then the first lesson we just played open strings for 45 minutes. For the first few months we just played scales and really boring exercises from Simandl, which is quite a famous double bass book. Not even shifting the left hand at all; just playing in half position. It was amazing, because I would never have had that discipline without having lessons with someone like him. It gave me a solid foundation to playing the instrument, which has been so valuable. I do a lot of playing, but I don’t really practise at all these days. I feel I can only do that because I was lucky enough to have those lessons when I was younger and develop those foundations.
The great thing about having loads of different teachers is they can all teach you differently. There’s lots of perspectives on playing music, and playing your instrument, and all teachers can give you different things. None of the jazz teachers I had were the kind of player that John was, so it was really valuable to have that perspective and that approach to playing. I also had semesters from Mario [Caribe] when I was younger, who got me into Paul Chambers and loads of classic jazz bass solos. I had loads of teachers at Guildhall, and I’d say some of the best lessons were actually from some of the drum teachers. I had lessons with James Maddren, amazing drummer. It was great having lessons with someone that plays the drums, ‘cause you can play with them in a way you don’t get with a double bass teacher. I’ve learned loads of different things from different teachers with different perspectives, and I’d encourage people to try to have different teachers. If someone’s over for a gig, try asking them for a lesson, because even just one can have a massive impact on your development.
The Ali Watson Quartet is performing on 25th November at the Traverse Theatre in Edinburgh, and on 26th November at The Rum Shack in Glasgow. Terrarium releases everywhere on 26th November. You can pre-order it on Bandcamp.
