What was your path into music?
I guess it started in school; playing the recorder as lots of kids do. I wanted to learn how to play piano. We had a piano in the house. I was interested in it from an early age. I felt it was something I understood well. Music always seemed like something that made sense to me. There was a Christmas where my brother [Matt] got a drum set, and I got a guitar. We had a Korg 01/Wpro in the house too; a keyboard and synthesizer that I'd spend hours making beats on. It was like house music, but I didn't know what that was at the time. Lots of sequences and looping sequences. There are a handful of pieces of gear that I feel I've spent so much time with that it almost becomes like a buddy. I'd develop a rapport with the thing in such a way that it feels intimate. That was the first piece of gear that I felt I understood the ins and outs of so well, from having used it so much. I used to save settings on these little floppy disks. I know that makes me a thousand years old. [laughter] Those were key events in my musical life, having the piano, the keyboard at home, music in school, and the guitar and the drum set. I would always try to play my brother's drum set when he wasn't around, because he didn't want me to play it!
Did you do much singing as a kid?
The event that shaped me, as a musical person, more than anything else is that I did after-school chamber choir in high school. Hearing the different parts of the choir do their thing; like the different sections would practice their part, and I could hear the melodies. Sometimes I'd think, "This is never going to fit together. It seems so weird." We did Gabriel Fauré's "Requiem." It's still one of my favorite pieces of music. It seemed impossible that these parts would be in any kind of harmony when I'd listen to parts individually. The idea of many voices singing together, and creating chords and textures, is probably the single most influential event for me. I also take music as an almost sacred thing. Some bridge to the mysterious, the unknown; all the things that we don't really understand. I've always liked that quality of music.
Do you mean in terms of thought or creating a space for that to exist?
Both. There is something about people singing together and what happens between people in the room that is interesting and powerful. Music can be many things, but I don't mean to say that it has to be a healing force. There are certain party jams that I like a lot. They're effervescent and fleeting, but that's fine. Music can be anything. Some of the music that has meant the most to me either has a "getting in touch with the divine" quality, even though that sounds corny, or a "healing." When somebody tells me my music helped them through a hard time, it's the best feeling for me. I guess that's the hope for this stuff, ultimately, that it's some connection or communication with another person that is imbued with some love or positive feeling. Even if the subject material can be dark, I've always felt that it's some sort of loving communication.
If one was only making music from a purely transactional and commercial standpoint, that well is going to run dry.
Yeah. I was lucky to start doing it so young, because I realized pretty quickly that the feeling I got – when I made something that was an improvement on the last thing that I did, or something that made me feel excited – was its own reward and the beginning and the end of the purpose of doing this. It was one of these things in life that brightens your day and makes you feel good. We all tend to have these big dreams, but I feel like the big dreams, even if they work out, aren't as fulfilling as a lot of these little, small, trivial things are. Habitual and ritual things tend to be the most life-enhancing.
When you were working on your synth and playing your brother's drums, was there a time when you started multitracking and recording?
I was super lucky to have the type of parents that I did. They could tell that some of us were interested in recording and writing songs, so they bought us this Tascam 488 Portastudio. I have seven shoeboxes full of tapes from when I was about 13 until 19. The first Panda Bear CD that we made [Panda Bear] was a compilation from when I was around 15. It's not very good, and I don't feel I struck the thing that I felt represented me in a genuine way. I recorded like crazy all the time when I was younger. It made me feel good.
When you hear any of those old recordings, do you hear little nuggets that have endured?
Yeah. The more electronic music that I was into, I'm still into. Caetano Veloso, I'm still into. Brazilian music, bossa nova. I used to make a lot of Aphex Twin-y kind of music for a while.
You've been making music with the guys from Animal Collective for so long. I always love the drummer's perspective, and I was curious about that as your role in Animal Collective versus what you do as Panda Bear.
I feel I've played a couple different roles with Animal Collective, but you're right, I am the de facto rhythm guy. It's changed a little bit. I used to feel I wanted to match the visibility of everything else, and I had a more outward view, a more aggressive style of drumming. Gradually, over time, it's gotten less and less to the point where now I feel I want to almost be invisible in the track and support everything else that's going on. I'm more into the idea of playing like a machine with the timing and tone of the hits of the drums. I'm still not super good at it, but that's the thing I've obsessed about with playing the drums in the past four years. I taught myself to play in a totally different way. I didn't know all about the Moeller method and rudiments. Like getting the hi-hat and snare ghost notes to get it to chug along. Beyond that is the goal of trying to come up with rhythms that seem fresh; maybe not something that we hear all of the time.
