Name: Quiet Village
Members: Joel Martin, Matt 'Radio Slave' Edwards
Interviewee: Joel Martin
Nationalities: British
Current release: Quiet Village's new Till The Doctor Gets Back (incl. Mad Professor Dub Remix) EP is out now.
Recommendation for London, UK: If you’re visiting London and care about music, I’d recommend spending an evening at OM in Dalston. It’s a relatively new venue from the team behind Brilliant Corners and Giant Steps, two old friends of ours. Both Matt and I have played long all-night sets there, and it’s one of the few places that genuinely prioritises listening. The custom-built sound system, intimate atmosphere and attention to detail remind me of some of the great listening spaces of the past. It’s a wonderful place to experience recorded music properly.
Things I am passionate about but rarely get to talk about: I’m fascinated by anything that enriches life and expands your sense of possibility. Music is obviously a huge part of that, but so are films, art, food, travel and counterculture in all its forms. What interests me is the way different experiences feed one another. A great meal, a beautiful building, a film that stays with you for days or a piece of music that changes your perspective all come from the same place. They’re reminders that life can be deeper, richer and more meaningful than we sometimes realise.
I’m interested in people who dedicate themselves to creating those kinds of experiences for others, regardless of the medium they choose. Whether it’s a chef, an architect, a filmmaker or a musician, the underlying impulse feels very similar to me.
 
If you enjoyed this Quiet Village interview and would like to know more about the project and their music, visit the duo on Instagram, and Facebook.



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?

For Quiet Village, inspiration usually begins with discovery. Often it’s a piece of music we’ve unearthed, an unusual atmosphere or simply a record that sparks our imagination and makes us wonder where else it could go.

When we started making music together, discovering obscure source material was a huge part of the process. These days, we’re probably less reliant on that because we’ve become more musically literate, and the world is much more connected than it once was. Beyond music, inspiration comes from films, books, art, architecture, travel and personal experiences.

More than anything, though, we’re interested in things that create a sense of atmosphere and transport you somewhere else. That’s always been at the heart of Quiet Village.

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?

Not really. We rarely have a clear picture of the finished piece before we begin. Usually there’s an initial spark — a sample, a groove, a mood or a concept — and then we follow it wherever it wants to lead us.

Some projects are more conceptual than others. Our track ‘Naked Hunger’, for example, had a very clear identity from the outset. Other pieces emerge much more organically. We’ve always tried to leave room for accidents and unexpected discoveries.



Often, the most interesting moments happen when something doesn’t go according to plan.

Is there a preparation phase for your process? Do you require your tools to be laid out in a particular way, for example, do you need to do ‘research’ or create ‘early versions’?

Research has always been important, not in an academic sense but in the sense of constantly listening, digging and absorbing new ideas. Record collecting played a huge role in that when we started. Every discovery felt like opening a door into another world.

In practical terms, we tend to work quite quickly once we’ve found an idea worth pursuing. There are usually sketches and rough versions, but we try not to overthink things. If an idea has energy, we want to capture it before it disappears.

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?

We don’t really have any elaborate studio rituals. Good coffee certainly helps, but beyond that, it’s more about having the time and headspace to focus.

The bigger influence is probably life outside the studio. Great food, films, art, architecture, travel, exercise, and spending time with inspiring people all feed into the creative process. Anything that raises your life energy tends to have a positive effect.

For “Till The Doctor Gets Back,” what did you start with? If there were conceptual considerations, what were they?

Our latest release began whilst we were sharing records and ideas, looking for inspiration for a new Quiet Village project.

Barry Reynolds’ ‘Till The Doctor Gets Back’ immediately stood out. We both felt it sounded remarkably contemporary despite its age and had all the qualities we look for in a Quiet Village record — sophistication, atmosphere, melody and groove. We’ve always loved the Compass Point era and Barry Reynolds’ “I Scare Myself” in particular, so the idea of reinterpreting the track felt natural.



It was also the first time we’d ever covered another artist’s work, which made it an interesting challenge. Rather than simply recreating the original, we wanted to imagine how that Compass Point spirit might sound if it were filtered through a contemporary Quiet Village lens.

Tell me a bit about the way the new material developed and gradually took its final form, please.

The starting point was simply the feeling we got from the original recording. We could immediately hear how it might sit within the Quiet Village sound world.

From there, it became a process of gradually reshaping it while trying to preserve the qualities that made us fall in love with it in the first place. We wanted to create something that felt contemporary while still retaining the warmth, sophistication and atmosphere of the Compass Point productions that inspired it.

Like most Quiet Village records, it evolved through experimentation rather than following a strict blueprint.

Many writers have claimed that as soon as they enter into the process, certain aspects of the narrative are out of their hands. Do you like to keep strict control or is there a sense of following things where they lead you?

It’s definitely more a case of following things where they lead. We usually begin with an idea or a spark of inspiration, but very rarely know exactly where we’ll end up. The most rewarding moments often happen when a piece takes on a life of its own and starts suggesting its own direction.

There has to be some structure and decision-making along the way, but if you’re too rigid, you risk losing the magic that made the idea exciting in the first place.

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?

Very much so. Music has always felt like something more than entertainment to me. It can alter moods, connect people and create experiences that are difficult to explain rationally.

I genuinely believe there is a life force within music. Some pieces seem to arrive almost fully formed, as though you’re receiving rather than inventing them.

I wouldn’t necessarily try to put a label on it, but there is certainly a spiritual dimension to it. Music is a gift. It’s good for the soul and one of the things that makes life richer and more meaningful.

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?

We’ve learned over the years that perfection is an illusion. At some point, you have to stop refining and let the music go out into the world. That’s not to say we rush things, but neither of us is an endless tweaker.

Usually, we know quite quickly when something feels complete. If a track stalls or loses momentum, we may leave it alone for months or even years and come back to it later with fresh ears. Often, that distance provides clarity.

But generally speaking, if a piece still excites us after living with it for a while, that’s usually a good sign that it’s ready.

How do you think the meaning, or effect of an individual piece is enhanced, clarified or possibly contrasted by the EPs, or albums it is part of? Does each piece, for example, need to be consistent with the larger whole?

Not necessarily. We like records to have their own identity and personality.

At the same time, sequencing and context are incredibly important. A piece of music can take on a completely different meaning depending on what surrounds it.

We’ve always thought of releases as journeys rather than collections of tracks. The individual pieces should contribute to the overall atmosphere, but not necessarily in an obvious or uniform way. Contrast is often what makes a larger work interesting.

What’s your take on the role and importance of production, including mixing and mastering for you personally? In terms of what they contribute to a song, what is the balance between the composition and the arrangement (performance)?

Production is incredibly important because it’s the means by which an idea is communicated. A great composition can be undermined by poor production, just as a beautifully produced record can sometimes elevate relatively simple musical ideas.

For us, composition, arrangement and production are all intertwined. We don’t really think of them as separate stages. The way a sound is treated, where it sits in the mix and how space is used all become part of the composition itself.

Mixing and mastering are about revealing the emotional content as clearly as possible.

Music and the accompanying artwork are often closely related. Can you talk about this a little bit for your current project and the relationship that images and sounds have for you in general?

Visual identity has always been very important to Quiet Village. Matt comes from a graphic design background, so ideas often move quite naturally between sound and image. We tend to discuss artwork very early in the process because both are trying to communicate a similar feeling.

The artwork doesn’t need to explain the music, but it should inhabit the same world. Looking back across the Quiet Village catalogue, there’s a common thread running through the visuals just as there is through the music. Both are attempts to create a sense of atmosphere and place.

After finishing a piece or album and releasing something into the world, there can be a sense of emptiness. Can you relate to this – and how do you return to the state of creativity after experiencing it?

I can’t honestly say I experience emptiness. For me, it’s usually the opposite. Releasing music is a joyful experience because it’s the point at which something that existed privately suddenly becomes something that can be shared.

Once a record leaves the studio it starts its own journey. People hear it in different places, connect it to different memories and bring their own experiences to it. That’s one of the most rewarding aspects of making music.

I’ve never viewed releasing music as an ending. It’s simply another stage in the process.

I would love to know a little about the feedback you’ve received from listeners or critics about what they thought some of your songs are about or the impact it had on them – have there been misunderstandings or did you perhaps even gain new insights?

One of the most rewarding aspects of releasing music is hearing about the experiences people have had with it. Rather than listeners telling us what a particular track is “about”, it’s more often a case of hearing stories about where they were when they heard it, who they were with or what was happening in their lives at the time.

I’ve always loved the idea that music becomes part of people’s memories. A record might remind someone of a holiday, a club, a relationship or a particular period in their life. Once music leaves your hands, it develops its own life and becomes intertwined with other people’s experiences.

That’s one of the things I find most beautiful about music. It creates connections between people, places and moments that might otherwise be forgotten.

Creativity can reach many different corners of our lives. Do you personally feel as though writing a piece of music is inherently different from something like making a great cup of coffee? What do you express through music that you couldn’t or wouldn’t in more ‘mundane’ tasks?

I think creativity exists in almost everything. Making a great meal, selecting tracks for a party or even making coffee all involve care, attention and a desire to create a positive experience for somebody else.

Music is unique because it can bypass language altogether. It can communicate emotions, memories and ideas directly. But the underlying impulse is similar. Whether you’re cooking a meal or making a record, you’re trying to enrich somebody’s experience of being alive.