Name: Jim Wallis

Nationality: British

Occupation: musician/producer
Current Release: In Huge Gesturing Loops on Tip Top Recordings

If you enjoyed this interview with Jim Wallis, you can learn more about him at www.jimwallismusic.com

Where does the impulse to create something come from for you? What role do often-quoted sources of inspiration like dreams, other forms of art, personal relationships, politics etc play?

To be honest, I find creativity to be an incredibly nebulous thing. When I read or listen to interviews with people who are able to articulate the anatomy of their creative process, I find it remarkable…because my brain doesn't really work that way. Most of the time I’m just working on gut instinct, searching for something that strikes a chord in me emotionally.
That said, there are definitely some elements you mentioned that played a part in making my new album, In Huge Gesturing Loops. I borrowed the title from a poem by Philip Larkin about getting older that resonated with me and also felt like a good description of the sound of the music. For the album cover, I asked my friend Luke Jarvis to create a design based on the Marshall Street swimming pool in Soho. I’d seen a photograph of the pool in an art bookshop in Paris last summer and subsequently went swimming there a few times while I was working on the album.
But ultimately those things all feel tangential to the process, rather than a core part of it, which is something more emotional and kind of indescribable.

For you to get started, do there need to be concrete ideas – or what some have called a 'visualisation' of the finished work? What does the balance between planning and chance look like for you?

I wouldn't say there needs to be a concrete idea, there just needs to be enough there to get things off the ground. Part of the joy of making music is the unknown and unplanned elements that happen along the way.
For Ciphers, my new single, I knew that alongside the atmospheric pedal steel tracks I already had in place for the album, I wanted there to be a change of texture with a piece mainly on the piano and driven by a repetitive rhythmic pulse, with a few sparse pedal steel phrases over the top. That was the core idea. Then, my friend Will Dollard (who also plays trumpet on one of the album's tracks) has a beautiful felted upright piano in his flat and I asked him if I could spend an afternoon playing and recording it. A lot of Ciphers was then essentially improvised at that session and probably all happened in about half an hour. When a composition happens quickly like that, it often feels a bit like cheating or like I should work on it for longer, but sometimes those are my favourite pieces of music, the ones you don't really have time to over-analyse about or second guess.


Do you have certain rituals to get you into the right mindset for creating? What role do certain foods or stimulants like coffee, lighting, scents, exercise or reading poetry play?

These are the kind of things I'm very mindful of when producing for other musicians. But to be honest, when I'm working on my own music, I don't think about them at all. If I feel good enough about the idea I'm working on, I don't really need anything else to get me in the zone, I suppose.

What do you start with? How difficult is that first line of text, the first note?

I've learnt in recent years that I find it a lot easier to work with some kind of brief: an overarching idea, even if it’s one I’ve created for myself. A blank piece of paper can feel quite paralysing.
So, my first album was compiled from music I'd written as the score for a film (the documentary Europa by the Rwandan director Kivu Ruhorahoza) and my second was a collaboration with the painter Nick Goss, who already had some fantastic field recordings to get us started. Then, my new album was sparked by a happy accident in the studio.
I find that having a good initial concept is in some ways the hardest part, particularly with instrumental music. Once I've got that, it becomes a case of knuckling down to pursue it and properly realise it.


Once you've started, how does the work gradually emerge?

I often think making music follows some variation of the 80/20 rule. A large part of the work (say the first 80%) often happens very quickly…i.e. in the first 20% of the overall time. It doesn't take long for a nearly fully formed piece of music to emerge. But then actually finalising all the fine details, that final 20%, takes a lot longer and often becomes the most time-consuming element of the work.
I find the same thing in my work mixing other people's music too. I can quite quickly end up with something that sounds almost like a finished record, but then all the little details and actually getting it over the line is what takes the most time.

Often, while writing, new ideas and alternative roads will open themselves up, pulling and pushing the creator in a different direction. Does this happen to you, too, and how do you deal with it? What do you do with these ideas?

The new album was actually entirely the result of an alternative and unplanned road opening up. During the winter 2021 lockdown, like many other people I found myself with some time on my hands and, after I'd just finished the album Pool with Nick Goss, I thought I’d try making an album of more conventional songs. I sent a few of them to Henry Senior, a pedal steel player who I'd met while producing an album for the band Our Man In The Field, who he plays with. Because we were working remotely, Henry sent me three or four different ideas for each song, imagining I would choose my favourite or pick bits from each of them to combine into a single part. As I was getting towards the end of making the album though, I was already feeling like I wasn't happy with it. Then, one day something made me play back all of Henry's takes for one of the songs, Set My Watch To You, simultaneously and at half-speed…I was immediately captivated by the sound and realised it was a much more interesting avenue for these compositions than the one I'd originally intended. That process became the basis of the entire album, something completely different to what I'd originally set out to make.

Especially in the digital age, the writing and production process tends towards the infinite. What marks the end of the process? How do you finish a work?

Broadly speaking, when I can listen to something all the way through without hearing anything I immediately want to change.

Once a piece is finished, how important is it for you to let it lie and evaluate it later on? How much improvement and refinement do you personally allow until you're satisfied with a piece? What does this process look like in practice?

I find this to be a bit of a double-edged sword. On the one hand, having a bit of distance from a piece of work can bring a really valuable sense of perspective that helps you make important and really beneficial final changes. It’s very rare that I listen to something even a few months after I’ve finished it and don’t feel there’s something I’d like to change. On the other hand though, there’s also the danger that with enough distance you’ll see so many flaws that you never end up releasing anything, so it’s a difficult balance to strike!

There are many descriptions of the creative state. How would you describe it for you personally? Is there an element of spirituality to what you do?

I'll finish how I started- by saying that I find this question pretty much impossible to answer (not ideal for an interview about the creative process, sorry!). But ultimately, I think that's probably what I find so magical about making music and what makes me keep coming back for more.