Name: Arnold de Boer aka Zea
Nationality: Dutch
Occupation: Guitarist, composer, songwriter, vocalist
Recent release: Zea's We Are Still Each Other's Only Hope, featuring Xavier Charles and Mats Gustafsson among others, is out via Makkum.
Recommendations: Brass Unbound (film) - Johan van der Keuken; The Origins of Totalitarianism (book) - Hannah Arendt

[Read our Mats Gustafsson interview]

If you enjoyed this Zea interview and would like to stay up to date with his music, visit his official homepage. He is also on Instagram, Facebook, Soundcloud, and twitter.  

For an interview with one of his fellow band members in The Ex, read our Andy Moor interview.



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?

It took me a while to actually recognise a feeling that I get every now and then, a kind of restless, grumpy and dejected feeling all at once, and find out it has to do with the lack of music. And specifically with the lack of making music. There are times when I am very busy with organizing shows, tours and releases and with other things too, and I do not really touch my guitar for a week or even longer.

My mind clears immediatly and my feelings brighten up the moment I sit down and start playing. In those moments I usually start playing something new. New melodies, new riffs, new rhythms and vocal ideas come into existence. As if my body kept them inside, was piling them up, and throws them out all at once. As if I react to all the frustration that a normal or not so normal life can have, and give sound to it the moment my body can't hold it anymore. I now recognise myself feeling down and grumpy and think: I have to sit down and play.

It happened on another level too. When my mother died, I was very sad and felt like I was carrying a huge rock inside my stomach. I had to sit down and play, and I wrote a song about her. And after that came another song. And it happened again when a very good friend died, and again when my niece died.

On the other hand it can be a playful way of words, a sentence or a slogan that makes me stop what I am doing and write something down or record a scetch on my dictaphone. My mind is always open for melodies and melodies are in the words; language is a form of music, is what I say.

So when I'm watching a film, having a conversation or when I am reading a book, there can always be just a few words in a row that trigger something in my head. It usually is the rhythm and the melody of those words, together with the meaning and the poetry that can make the beginning of a song.

When I was reading Timothy Morton's book Hyperobjects, there was a sentence where he gave examples what an hyperobject could be, like 'all the stryrofoam in the world, now and in the future'. Or all the plutonium. This sounded perfect to me. I grabbed a pen and there I had the first two lines for my song Hyperobjects:

"I am all the styrofoam that does and will exist in the World. I am all the plutonium ever made, and I'll be getting really old."



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?

It can swing both ways. The album before my latest, the Frisian-language record Witst noch dat d'r neat wie was very concrete, personal, intimate, acoustic and mostly solo. Written and recorded during the pandemic.

The new album We are still each other's only hope developed over time. Half of the songs are collaborations with musicians from all over the world. I found out piecemeal what direction the whole album was going and it then became it's own story.

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'?

Not really. Having a dictaphone or voice-recorder at hand is the most important, so that I can always record my ideas anywhere.

I also always carry a pen in my pocket and have learned where to find small pieces of paper to write things down.



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?

Reading poetry can inspire me for sure, but for the rest I get enough inspiration and ideas without any other stimulus or drugs.

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

They come and show themselves to me, I just have to make sure not to be distracted and take time to catch them, lay them down in ink or a sound file.

To quote a question by the great Bruce Duffie: When you come up with a musical idea, have you created the idea or have you discovered the idea?
 
The idea has used me to be created.

From your experience, are there things you're doing differently than most or many other artists when it comes to writing music?

My traditional and communal way of making music is very personal.

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?

I follow and I improvise, I respect my mistakes and cherish them.

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?

For sure. I am a solo musician most of the times I look for other input. Playing with other musicians immediately opens up the whole world, so that's perfect.

But also in the studio, working with engineers for example, already creates a map with many different roads and paths.

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?

The beauty of music for me lies in its imperfect suggestion that there is a metaphysical universe right next to the dance floor.

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 practise?

It is important to have some evaluation. There are songs that are written in the blink of an eye and they usually do not need much change. And then there are the slow burners that need to grow.

It helps to give it time, to listen and work on it on different moments when I am a different version of myself. But sending it to a friend for some feedback also helps a lot.

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)?

Through the years I have learned to record everything as it should sound in the mix, to keep the mixing minimal, and the mastering too. To stay away from "fixing it in the mixing or mastering (or marketing)."

I used to pull a lot of tricks with effects and plug-ins and editing. That time my music was more electronic based too. I now aim for letting everything happen with a minimum of 'tools'.

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 never have this feeling as 'emptyness', I embrace the space I have for a while in my body and mind. Space to focus on other things, listen to other music and slowly walk back into the forrest of words, melodies, rhythm and sound.

Music is a language, but like any language, it can lead to misunderstandings. In which way has your own work – or perhaps the work of artists you like or admire - been misunderstood? How do you deal with this?

No, I'd say "language is a form of music". We're all imitating the birds and the bees, and our speech is just one form of communication that springs out of it.

And if there's no misunderstanding, then there are no questionmarks; and if there are no questionmarks, then there is no art.

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?

Art is different from cooking or brewing because it touches the unknown, the metaphysical and the poetry of life. There's healing as much as there is sharing, laughing, dancing and crying in art.

I could say the same about a cup of coffee, but that description in itself would be the 'art', and not the coffee.