Tappan Zee is a collection of three songs which reach across space and time to explore the frailty of human memory and inter-generational relationships. It pulls from a variety of influences: the patience and atmosphere of Eliane Raduige, the complex patterns of Balinese Gamelan (I studied with Gamelan masters I Wayan Sanglah and Pasek Sucipta), the mediative pacing of John Hassel’s fourth world, the electronic excursions of Skee Mask, and the spirituality of Alice Coltrane. Created across several years and locations (Berlin, NYC, Madrid, & Ubud) the music itself is a bridge constructed of questions. What happens when the location of a memory no longer exists? When the people in the memory are dead or they themselves do not remember the moment? Where do memories exist, can they be tied to certain objects?

Tappan Zee is based on a foundational memory. On an evening in 1986, my grandfather, father, and I pulled over onto the side of the Tappan Zee bridge, got out of the car, and stood looking up at the sky. High above us was Haley’s comet, brighter than any star. After my initial excitement ebbed, a new emotion arose, and with it an acute awareness of time. I knew that when the comet next appeared, my grandfather and father would be long dead, and I would be in my grandfather’s place. This sudden realization filled me with a distinct flavor of sadness.

In the years that passed this memory gradually faded. However, it recently jumped to the front of my mind when the demolition of the Tappan Zee was announced, and again when reading Kamau Daáood’s inter-generational poem The Men. Both are the moments that gave this work its wings and forced me to confront the inevitable passage of time, made even more poignant now that I am a father myself.