Travel Poems: an interview with pianist and composer Eric Pan
“Music is travel, within the universe of your mind.” —Eric Pan
The sound of lake water, the faint real-life music of an outdoor market, the scents and pictures and fragments of moments that create a travel memory—these are the journeys pianist and composer Eric Pan invites us on with his Travel Poems. These musical snapshots, recorded on pianos all over the world, reflect Pan’s travels, but the stories they tell through Pan’s elegant playing and masterful use of ambient soundscapes invite listeners to share the journey through their own experiences and imaginations. He writes that “each song is a postcard” and it is through these musical postcards that we catch glimpses of the beauty he’s seen in the world.
Eric Pan has an impressive jazz resume, having shared the stage with luminaries such as Roy Hargrove and Jeff Hamilton, yet when it was time to record his debut album, he found his niche creating music in the rich space between genres. This innovative three album release highlights his artistry and his commitment to stories. His eloquent thoughts on music and travel provide a narrative of fearless exploration. It is an honor to feature him on No Dead Guys.
When did you first begin playing the piano and what drew you to the instrument?
I was 6 years old when the Moonlight Sonata came on the radio. I asked my mom for a piano — pretty soon a hundred-year-old Baldwin upright appeared in our living room. I remember the feeling of infinite mysteries awaiting discovery, through piano lessons and even more through playing things by ear. Best of all were the themes of Zelda and a mountain song that other kids were playing—music like that made me excited to hang out with the piano late into the night.
I understand that you first discovered jazz at the University of California, Santa Cruz. Which artists first attracted you to this style of music, and who most influences you today?
In 11th grade in Taiwan my best friend Albert Tien introduced me to the greats and I was changed forever. We started a rock band with me on (stupid basic) drums, but he also showed me Count Basie and Monk and Duke. I remember listening to Kind of Blue for the first time together. The next year I moved to San Diego, started finding jazz records on my own, and by the time I attended UCSC I was ready for Introduction to Jazz Improvisation as an elective alongside my “official” studies.
The artists I liked the most in the beginning were Oscar Peterson, Bill Evans, and João Gilberto. Over the years I kept inching towards where the music came from, going back to Billie Holiday and Nina Simone and Erroll Garner. These days the newer artists that I revere seem to channel the polyrhythmic source, such as Robert Glasper, or speak spiritually, for instance Aaron Parks.
You have an impressive jazz resume, having shared the stage with well-known musicians such as Roy Hargrove and Jeff Hamilton, yet rather than focusing on straight jazz, you chose to release Travel Poems—a trilogy of recordings—as your debut albums. Why?
At this stage I am still preoccupied with making things that haven’t been made before. I never heard an album primarily comprising spare and short compositions like “Hamstrung”, or focused on taking the listener to different places, or recorded on different pianos around the world, or scored with narrative soundscapes. Or paired with written postcards!
There is something subversive about following what the music itself asks for, because the more I tune in to that, the more ideas arrive that don’t fit into existing boxes. I like to rebel, or at least be mischievous.
When did you conceive of the idea for Travel Poems and what sparked the concept?
It wasn’t my idea at first. In 2017, when cooking dinner with two friends, I put on a collection of MP3s gathered from previous years: some were songs written as gifts for friends, some as gifts for places. Virgil Segal and Brian Trahan asked me if I wanted to make an album from them.
I was dumbfounded. These compositions weren’t fit for recording! We recorded them anyway: zigzagging around Berlin to find different pianos. More places were added later, and some recordings were taken original from the source. The idea that music can cause travel emerged from the music itself, and became core to the listening experience. Which has guided everything from the title, to the artwork, to the live show and phone booth installation and most recently the exhibition a few weeks ago.
I found Travel Poems to be a refreshing blend of many different styles of music, including jazz. How would you categorize these pieces if describing them to a new listener?
I appreciate that so much, Rhonda. Describing the project briefly is the hardest bit! I want to say “music that takes you to different places,” which is unhelpful from a genre perspective. “Jazz scored with soundscapes” is a fast shorthand but, like you say, the music isn’t confined to jazz. In my scientific estimation the music of Travel Poems is 11% jazz, or I guess jazz-adjacent—if I have a lot in common musically with who’s asking then I might say something like that.
You write, “Each song is a postcard,” and that “Music is travel, within the universe of your mind.” What is about travel that enhances the experience of listening to your music?
It’s so exciting, the idea of a song as a postcard, written either from a place or for a place. I don’t know why music is inextricably tied to travel and memory for me—when we began the interview and I cited what I was most thrilled to play as a child, looks like it was all there back then already. Which is maybe connected to how much I moved when growing up: starting when I was 4, and almost every year after that.
Because I love music that evokes movement, or the atmosphere of a different place, it’s what I end up composing. People say my music often triggers nostalgia, whether by melancholy or joy or both. To me those are natural companion emotions to travel — at least travel that speaks to my deepest heart, the beautiful and bittersweet kind.
I understand you have been playing your Travel Poems in concert and that you combine the music with storytelling. How do you do this and what do you find most pulls listeners into the narrative of each piece?
When the time came to perform Travel Poems live, I wanted a way to transport listeners to different experiences and environments. As a listener, I am often adrift when attending jazz and other instrumental concerts, which can veer into abstract or even esoteric territory. The audience isn’t always following, and sometimes the soloist or band isn’t even leading either.
When I was a teen we played Dungeons and Dragons, and I always loved the way that a group of friends could imagine places and stories together at the same time. So I brought this type of second-person, immersive storytelling to the show, with new stories that everyone could co-create in the same room—the audience and the improvising musicians and the storyteller.
There’s so much to say about the relationships between listeners and the stories and the music, especially in live settings. Some early feedback I received was that someone loved how the music grounded the stories—which was a shock, because my intention was for the stories to ground the music! Further, the stories can also ground the performers, especially when the music is wide-open for improvisation.
The experience of alternating roles between storyteller and musician is fascinating: each show we play, I keep refining details. The job isn’t dissimilar to being a tour guide. And so there are elements within the stories that speak to different sensibilities: tactile details versus action versus emotions, for example.
One of the things I most enjoyed about Travel Poems was your choice to score the music to ambient soundscapes. Can you tell me a little bit about your recording process?
Thank you! The soundscapes were 99% sourced from public sound libraries, especially freesound.org where contributors from around the world send their field recordings on a volunteer basis.The songs were already all recorded when Brian and I came up with the idea to tie the musical “poems” together with sounds. I brainstormed what stories could be told, then searched for them, gathering over a thousand field recordings, based on thematic ideas. A few were recorded anew as I traveled around the States.
After a few weeks of collection, I combed through and combined the sounds into scenes—this ended up totaling a few hundred. The credits, sources, and locations of capture are listed on travelpoems.com. So the work was mostly in curation, imagining scenes, and in production and mixing with Brian Trahan, for each album-length journey to become its own cohesive story.
In several places you’ve written about the role of storytelling in your music. How do you feel this is achieved through improvised music?
Pure emotion can be bottled and transmitted across any distance and time…we feel the aching sadness of an elegy, and the rambunctious joy of a symphonic mazurka. Improvised music, whether group or solo, can carry the additional electric charge of limitless spontaneous creation connected to the precise moment, live.
A few weeks ago, our 5-day exhibition led up to the Travel Poems release show with four improvised concerts with 2 different musicians in live collaboration with me each night. Of course the “stories” varied dramatically across and within the nights, but what struck me was the connectedness between all of us and to the evolving material: playing in service to what the music was at the moment, exchanging energies in public discussion, cognizant of theme and mood and what it might be like as a listener, too.
But it’s inherently challenging to tell stories through improvised or instrumental music — and if the music is both, good luck. One can pick apart music to try identifying what communicates longing or whimsy or mystery, but getting to actual stories, with images and narrative, requires more. Either the listener finds themselves invested enough to chip in with their imagination, or the performance provides words, pictures, or other context. The precise mixture of elements is rich grounds for experimentation for performers of all types, from circus to stand-up to theater; what I strive for is a setup where invitations are extended to everyone, players and listeners alike, who can then participate in the space of creation.
One of my favorite tracks on Travel Poems: Chapter 3, There is no path back is “Sunrise Market.” I was particularly struck by the juxtaposition between the sounds of the market and your intimate and warm piano chords. What can you tell me about your inspiration for this piece?
So thrilled to hear this. I remember finding this chord progression, which somehow walked a line between simple and surprising — so well, that it could be repeated for a long time and still be interesting. The title arrived out of the blue (I think possibly influenced by a scene from movie) but ended up determining the soundscapes: an actual market, but cozy atmosphere, ending with the pouring of tea.
Another favorite is “Sequel to a Memory,” a lyrical and evocative piano solo that is scored with a water soundscape. Where was this recorded, and how much is the repeated left hand pattern reminiscent of returning repeatedly to a favorite memory?
I love this one too! Both the lake water and the repeated fishing line were recorded beautifully in Finland by a fantastic sound curator named “juskiddink”. The music was recorded in Harlem, New York, in 2012—not re-recorded for the album, because it was right as-is, with all its pausing and searching.
The funny thing about this song and title is that I was literally trying to remember the “same” composition from an earlier time. I think the previous iteration was also recorded, but is still sitting unlabeled in the archives somewhere. So the “Sequel to a Memory” is actually the song itself.
Your idea of the left-hand motif being evocative of the nature of memory is an even cooler idea, though, and it does match my experience of beloved memories. They are gifts we can carry with us, and they evolve as we do, different upon each invocation. Thank you for adding to the richness and mythology of the song!
Travel Poems: Chapter 3, There is no path back, is the final recording in this debut trilogy. How has listener response been to the first two releases, and where do you plan to continue your planet-wandering composition process in the future?
I have been floored by the reception to these albums, and so grateful for the heartfelt responses. The first album got on National Public Radio and syndicated around the world, thanks to Emilie Pons, and an interview in JAZZIZ magazine thanks to Matt Micucci. The second album landed on Spotify Editorial and also picked up for one of John Kehl’s Favorite Albums of 2022. This all happened independently, without any label backing or even advertising or promotional budget.
And what has really touched me is direct feedback from listeners, who have told me so many wonderful and personal things. Some people tell me stories of where they listened to the music and how it joined them on various travels. Others came up to me after shows and asked for the stories told, in written form. One listener, a schoolteacher, even started playing Travel Poems for when students were entering the classroom! I get complaints too: mainly that some songs are too short, and they would like to hear what happens in the world of them.
I’m not sure where I’ll go next, but I do see how even spontaneous or short trips inform what comes out. Last week I visited an old church built on the ruins of an even older one built by the Etruscans, and a theme emerged from that, with some Gregorian influences.
What current and future plans are you most excited about?
The next records are mind-blowing and I can’t wait to start showing them. To me they feel like the culmination of all the years of improvisational development I’ve experienced so far — presenting music I have never heard before. They’re connected to travel too, but in a different way, maybe a deeper way.
The 5-day exhibition that we put on a few weeks ago is called The Air Is Made Of Music, or TAIMOM for short. It showcased the release of Travel Poems, Chapter 3, but also featured 4 other exhibiting artists, 11 other musicians, and a dancer. That was TAIMOM, Edition 1, which now begins to grow into a global art collective, featuring both multi-disciplinary/multi-sensory art, and also improvised music that’s both free and anchored to meaning and intention. We are just in the beginning stages and I encourage everyone to sign up for news (and the video and music we recorded!) at taimom.com.
Last, I’d love to mention my newsletter, Campfire Sparks. Each issue contains a bite-sized adventure scored with original music, and also a behind-the-scenes section about what music or photography or events I’m working on. It comes out every 2 weeks — sign up free at campfiresparks.org.
What advice can you offer other musicians seeking to launch a career in music?
Be guided by your love for music. I was led astray, as a child, taking piano lessons with teachers who didn’t understand what I loved — which led me to abandon the piano entirely (until 11th grade when, by luck, I began to rediscover it on my own terms). Music is magic, and if you follow the music itself it will lead to wonders beyond what you can imagine.
There’s so much to be excited about! The fact that the music industry is currently in upheaval actually means that opportunities are exploding around us, this very minute. This is a time for building cool things and you can, too. In fact: we’re counting on you to.
“You’ve got a great player here.” Ray Brown
Eric Pan builds multi-sensory playgrounds around music.
Mixing piano composition and performance, photography, art installation, and immersive storytelling, Eric invites audiences to engage with songs and improvisation through physical exploration.
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Imagine going on a walk in the park. In the middle of a grassy field, you discover a colorful phone booth covered in fuzzy felt balls, built from century-old windows, one skylight propped open. As though you were visiting a gallery, the booth welcomes you to step inside, then be transported by music + sounds. This is teleportation, or as close to it as anything that exists today.
That’s one way into Travel Poems, Eric’s 2020 recording-artist debut. The music originated in the rainforests of Costa Rica, a collection of song-postcards composed as gifts for people and places. The collection blossomed a recording tour on pianos across four continents, yielding a 30-track sonic kaleidoscope: solo, duo, and trio performances threaded through found-sound recordings also curated from around the world.
Live Travel Poems shows feature spoken stories woven into concerts. Collaborative improvisation, among virtuoso soloists, and in response to immersive storytelling, allows both listeners and performers to create sound-imagination spaces together.
In July 2021, Eric debuted Lullabies of the Pleiades — six concise solo piano pieces transcribed from indigenous Pleiadian songs, each as sung to a young loved one, local to the far constellation. This exoplanetary musicology project aims to amplify previously undocumented music and its connected folklore (with more research findings to come).
Since 2022, accelerating releases clarify Eric’s vision for music-centered art experiences: The Awakening (Live) introduced long-form improv to Eric’s process as well as to the global Open Metaverse; Music Postcards mix photography + writing with his unique compositional style; Proof of Play extends the format to an “open studio” ethos of showcasing daily work-in-progress.
In 2024, the final Travel Poems chapter released — as a 5-day, multi-sensory art exhibition and music festival called The Air Is Made Of Music, with a star-studded artist and musician line-up. All projects are documented, next to bite-sized text adventures (scored to new music), in Eric’s newsletter, Campfire Sparks.
Eric Pan ventures next onto his debut jazz record series, reverent to the vernaculars of Black American and African Music, and farther afield into indie singer-songwriter territory with a love epic set under the oceans. These musical beachheads are foundational for hosting novel, immersive, ongoing events as well — each with a unique, crystalline focus on meaning, exploration, and human connection.