by Jane Lambert

VIDEO VOYAGEUR: 3 Q’S WITH KEN LOVERN

When Ken Lovern set out to create Blind Boone the Musical, he wasn’t simply writing songs. He was uncovering an overlooked chapter of American history. Through an ambitious blend of jazz, theatrical storytelling and historical research, the Kansas City composer and jazz organist is bringing the remarkable life of Missouri pianist John William “Blind” Boone to a whole new generation.

The project’s latest single, “Quindaro,” shifts the focus from Boone himself to the courageous journey of his mother, Rachel, bringing together the story of the Underground Railroad, the historic free state town of Quindaro, and the events that ultimately shaped one of America’s most extraordinary musicians. Accompanied by a striking visual narrative that combines original comic book artwork, archival imagery and footage from the recording sessions, the release demonstrates the scale and vision behind Blind Boone the Musical.

We caught up with Ken to discuss the inspiration behind “Quindaro,” the symbolism woven into its music, the creative process behind the video and why preserving stories like Blind Boone’s has never been more important than now.

Tell us the story of this track. Why did you choose to visualize it specifically in this way?

Quindaro is part of the story of Rachel Boone as told in the musical historical fantasy, “Blind Boone the Musical.”

The song’s setting is just before sunset in late Summer 1863, near Miami, Missouri in north central Missouri. A group of escaped and freed former enslaved persons, called “contrabands” by the Union Army, are heading west to Kansas in search of freedom and a better life. Their immediate goal is to reach the river port town of Quindaro on the Kansas side of the Missouri river and a known stop on the Underground Railroad. They sing to tell their story and their reasons for heading to the Free State of Kansas.

At dawn, the freedom seekers continue walking west to Quindaro. Rachel twisted her ankle the previous day, and it has swollen through the night. She is unable to walk. She will remain in central Missouri and give birth to John William Boone, who will become the prodigy and performing legend “Blind Boone.”

The cowbell beat that begins Quindaro is a standard “bell pattern” that forms the basis for much of the music of sub-Saharan Africa. The migration of this cross-rhythmic figure into the Americas introduced new rhythms to American music that did not exist in Europe. Some musicologist trace the “swing” of American blues and jazz to this pattern.

In the song Quindaro, the bell pattern remains consistent while the underlying pulse of the shaker and the bass drum alternate from a 6/8 beat to a 4/4 beat. Shifting the underlying pulse from 6/8 to 4/4 symbolizes the forced migration of the Africans to the Americas.

What was the inspiration behind this new video (visuals , storyline, etc.)?

The video features art from the companion comic book, video from the recording sessions, photos, and historical maps and drawings. My goal was to tell the story of the freedom seekers along with the experience of the musicians. The viewer can see through the maps and drawings the perilous journey from the Missouri side of the river at Parkville to the Kansas side of the river at Quindaro.

What was the process of making the video?

To create the video, I drew on images from several sources. To present the story of Blind Boone the Musical in a clear and linear manner, I collaborated with Gutter Studios to develop a comic book adaptation.

While recording Quindaro, I filmed videos of the musicians performing. I interspersed those videos with the comic book images and vintage maps and drawings to visually tell the story.

The video represents the dramatic story of freedom seekers from one hundred and sixty-three years ago and the joy of musicians performing today.

Connect with Ken Lovern and Blind Boone the Musical HERE

06.22.26

by Jane Lambert

VIDEO VOYAGEUR: 3 Q’s WITH MARIO MATTIA

With “Vector“, Mario Mattia continues his exploration of real time solo piano improvisation, working within an evolving framework he describes through three overlapping worlds: meditative, abstract, and freeform. Each improvisation emerges without pre-composition or predetermined structure, unfolding in the moment and revealing its identity only in retrospect.

We are particularly delighted to have Mario return for another Video Voyageur, as his work continues to evolve and deepen across both musical and visual dimensions.

“Vector” sits firmly within the abstract strand of this practice. Brief, angular and intensely focused, it traces a compressed musical trajectory shaped by tension, velocity and fragmentation. Rather than illustrating a narrative or external idea, the work exists as a direct expression of motion and energy, translated into sound as it happens.

The accompanying visual language extends this approach. It offers a non-literal environment that mirrors the piece’s instability and intensity. Together, music and image form a unified space of abstraction – one that prioritises force, texture and perception over story or explanation.

Tell us the story of this piece. Why did you choose to visualize it specifically in this way?

“Vector” belongs to the abstract area of my work. My improvisations fall into three genres: meditative, abstract and freeform.

The meditative pieces tend to be spacious, tonal, inward, and contemplative. The abstract pieces are more angular, atonal, compressed, and exploratory, often emphasizing gesture, texture, rhythm, and intensity over conventional lyricism. The freeform pieces move between worlds. They may begin in a tonal or meditative space, pass through abstraction or dissonance, and return transformed, allowing the music to determine its own structure in real time.

Although I use these three categories to help listeners orient themselves, the improvisations are never planned in advance. Each one emerges spontaneously, and the genre becomes clear only afterwards. The improvisation emerged very clearly from the abstract genre. As with all of my piano improvisations, there was no prior plan, structure, or conception. I did not sit down intending to create an atonal piece, nor did I set out to make something intense or angular. It simply emerged that way in the moment. Looking back, I suspect it reflected the particular intensity of my inner state at the time – not in a literal or programmatic sense, but as a kind of emotional pressure translated directly into sound.

Because the music moves by tension, velocity, interruption and abstraction, I wanted the visual world to reflect that same character. Rather than using imagery that would soften or explain the piece, I chose visuals that would support its non-representational quality – something closer to motion, geometry, instability, and concentrated energy.

The goal was to illustrate a story, but to create a visual counterpart to the music’s abstract force.

What was the inspiration behind this new video (visuals, storyline, etc.)?

There is no storyline in the video, and I did not want to impose one on the music. “Vector” is an abstract, atonal improvisation, so the visual approach needed to remain non-literal. The inspiration was really the character of the piece itself: compressed, intense, angular, and unstable. I wanted the imagery to reflect those qualities without explaining them.

The visuals are meant to create an atmosphere

The video was assembled and edited in DaVinci Resolve. I began by searching for visual material that seemed to share something with the character of the piece itself: compressed, intense, angular, and unstable. I wanted the imagery to reflect those qualities without explaining them. The visuals are meant to create an atmosphere of abstraction and movement – something geometric, unsettled, and concentrated – rather than a narrative sequence. For me, the video functions as a visual environment for the music, not a story about it.

What was the process of making the video?

The video was assembled and edited in DaVinci Resolve. I began by searching for visual material that seemed to share something with the character of the improvisation – not literal images, but imagery that suggested abstraction, motion, tension and instability.

From there, the process became one of correlation. I tried to shape the visual flow so that it moved with the music: more active and fragmented through much of the piece, with a small amount of color to give it energy and contrast, and then somewhat calmer as the improvisation itself begins to release near the end.

I also included a brief image of myself at the piano, not as a focal point, but as context – a reminder that this is still a human, physical performance, even when the musical language is highly abstract.

The title “Vector” came afterward, as my titles always do. It seemed to reflect the underlying character of the improvisation: direction, force, motion, and a kind of concentrated trajectory.

About Mario Mattia

Mario Mattia is an improvisational pianist and graduate of the New England Conservatory whose work is rooted in spontaneity, deep listening and emotional presence. Drawing on influences ranging from Johann Sebastian Bach to Keith Jarrett and Brian Eno, his music bridges classical, jazz, progressive and ambient traditions.

Each performance is created entirely in the moment, without predetermined themes or structures. While his primary work centers on solo piano improvisation, Mattia also maintains an electronic studio practice that serves as a parallel and occasional extension of his explorations in sound.

Working from his rural studio, Mattia captures every nuance of sound, inviting listeners into immersive, contemplative spaces where music unfolds as lived experience.

Keep up with everything Mario Mattia on his Website

06.03.26

by Jane Lambert

Ammar Farooki’s “Twelve” – An Album for Those Still Searching

Some albums are collections of songs. Others feel more like conversations. Ammar Farooki’s Twelve falls firmly into the latter camp, and it’s an album less interested in telling listeners what to think and more concerned with asking the sort of questions that tend to continue long after the music has been heard.

Written and recorded between Brooklyn and beyond, Twelve finds Farooki wrestling with themes of identity, loss, love, spirituality as well as personal transformation. That might sound heavy – and, at times, it is – but this is not an album that disappears into its own philosophy. Instead, it uses those bigger ideas as fuel for songs that remain remarkably human and relatable. Whether reflecting on the uncertainty of leaving behind a stable corporate career to pursue music or exploring the ways people search for meaning in an increasingly chaotic world, Farooki approaches every song with honesty rather than certainty.

Musically, the album occupies a fascinating space between indie rock energy and singer songwriter intimacy. There are moments that soar, moments that simmer, and moments that seem content to simply sit with difficult emotions. Tracks such as “Wanderer” embody the album’s central theme of growth through self-discovery, using driving guitars, keys and an uplifting sense of momentum to capture the experience of shedding old identities and stepping into the unknown. Throughout the record, the arrangements serve the songs rather than the other way around, which is a surprisingly rare quality these days.

Farooki says about The Wanderer “The song is really about me growing as an individual, as an artist, and leaving everything I knew to be comfortable and familiar behind to pursue the dream of being an independent musician in NYC. This song as well as all the other tracks were composed, recorded and produced by myself, Diane Desobeau and Sarmad Ghafoor.“

What makes Twelve particularly compelling is that it never feels confined by geography or cultural labels. Farooki’s story may stretch from Lahore to New York City, but the questions he asks belong to everyone. Themes of belonging, purpose, heartbreak, and reinvention are presented not through the lens of nationality, but through shared human experience.

There is also a poignant emotional thread running through the album. Twelve is dedicated to the memory of Farhad Humayun, the legendary Pakistani musician, composer, and producer who inspired Farooki to pursue music more seriously and whose passing in 2021 left a lasting impact. That sense of loss and artistic purpose quietly informs much of the record, giving it an emotional depth.

Perhaps most impressive is the fact that Twelve was entirely self-funded and self-produced. In an era when artists are often encouraged to chase trends, Farooki has done the opposite, creating a body of work that feels uncompromisingly his own. The successful Kickstarter campaign behind the album, recognized as a “Project We Love”, suggests that listeners are responding to that authenticity.

What Twelve ultimately offers is something increasingly valuable – space to reflect. It invites listeners to sit with uncertainty, embrace complexity, and perhaps discover something about themselves along the way. Music that challenges, comforts and connects in equal measure is a rare thing. Ammar Farooki has managed to make an album full of it.

About Ammar Farooki

Ammar Farooki is a Brooklyn based singer-songwriter originally from Lahore, Pakistan. His music brings together the musical traditions of indie rock, folk, and introspective songwriting. After gaining recognition in Pakistan’s independent music scene, Farooki released his debut EP Songs From the Cave in 2019, earning coverage from Rolling Stone India, Forbes, as well as other international publications.

Later that year, he relocated to New York City on an artist visa and has since become a regular presence on the city’s live music circuit, performing at venues including The Bitter End, Rockwood Music Hall, Pianos, and the American Folk Art Museum.

While his journey spans continents, Farooki’s music is rooted in universal human experiences, creating songs that transcend borders and cultural labels. His recent album Twelve, is his most ambitious work to date. It’s an entirely self produced collection exploring philosophy, spirituality and the search for meaning in an increasingly complex world.

Keep up with all things Ammar Farooki on his Website

04.28.26

by Jane Lambert

Holding the Moment in A Is For Atom’s “Out of the Blue”

There’s a tendency in modern indie music to either overcomplicate or oversimplify – to dress songs up in layers of production until the meaning disappears, or strip them back so far that there’s nothing left to hold onto. The real trick, of course, is finding the balance. Out of the Blue, the latest album from A Is for Atom manages this really well.

This is not an album built on big statements. There are no obvious centrepieces demanding attention, no moments engineered to go viral or dominate playlists. Instead, Mike Cykoski has created a slow-burning collection of songs that reveal themselves over time. It’s a confident move, and one that gives the record a kind of quiet durability.

The title track, Out of the Blue captures a shift in perspective: that moment when something long familiar suddenly feels different. But it avoids cliché in favour of something more observational. There’s no rush to resolve the feeling, just an acceptance that change has already taken place.

As the album develops, it circles similar themes from different angles. “Closer” explores connection as something active, almost deliberate, rather than something that simply exists. It’s a subtle but important distinction, especially in a world where distance, emotional or otherwise, can so often feels like the default. “Love Birds” takes a softer approach, more tentative, focusing on the fragility of relationships and the space they require to survive.

Then there’s “Babylon,” which shifts the lens outward. Where much of the album feels personal, this track engages with a wider sense of instability: social, cultural and even existential. It’s one of the more expansive moments on the record and, if anything, it reinforces the idea that personal experience is always shaped by the world around it.

“Upriver” adds another layer, bringing in mythic imagery to explore ideas of love and return. It could easily have felt out of place, but instead it fits neatly into the album’s broader narrative. The references may be larger-than-life, but the emotions remain grounded: longing, responsibility and the pull of something familiar waiting at the end of the journey.

Musically, this record has indie rock as the backbone, but it’s softened by electronic textures, ambient details and a strong sense of pacing. Arrangements feel intentional but never overworked. There’s a noticeable absence of excess – no unnecessary flourishes.

This sense is also what defines the album. It trusts the listener to stay engaged, and create music that is more than lasting. These are definitely tracks built for longevity.

In the end, Out of the Blue doesn’t try to answer the questions it raises. It doesn’t tidy up the emotions it explores or force them into neat conclusions. Instead, it reflects the way things actually are as fluid, uncertain, evolving and often unresolved. It’s a record that understands you don’t always need to say more to mean more. Sometimes, saying just enough is exactly what gives a song its power.

About A Is For Atom

A Is for Atom is the Brooklyn based project of songwriter and producer Mike Cykoski, blending indie rock with subtle electronic textures and deeply personal, narrative driven songwriting.

With a background that includes studies at New York University and The Juilliard School, along with experience at Harvest Works and Dubspot, Cykoski brings together technical precision and creative instinct in equal measure.

Known for tracks like “Love Birds” and recent releases including “Enola,” “Closer,” and “Out of the Blue,” A Is For Atom has built a reputation for music that favours emotional clarity and atmosphere.

Find out more about A is For Atom on the Website

04.22.26

by Jane Lambert

Where the Land Sings – Mapping Memory and Motion Across Todd Mosby’s “American Heartland”

Instrumental albums are often framed as background music. Pleasant, technically impressive but rarely stepping forward as something that demands deeper emotional or intellectual engagement. And likewise, records rooted in tradition can sometimes feel content to stay within well worn boundaries, honoring their influences without necessarily expanding on them.

But every so often, an artist comes along who treats both form and feeling as open terrain, blending discipline with imagination to create something that resonates far beyond expectation. American Heartland is exactly that kind of album.

This is ultimately a record shaped by place, but not in any obvious or literal sense. Missouri isn’t simply depicted here. It is absorbed, internalized and re-expressed through a musical language that feels both grounded and far reaching. What begins as a personal reflection on landscape gradually unfolds into something more universal, a meditation on memory, movement and the quiet sense of where we come from.

If that sounds like it leans toward the pastoral or predictable, think again. While there is an undeniable sense of warmth and familiarity running through the album, it is constantly being refracted through a more expansive musical lens. Drawing on both Western traditions and the phrasing and tonal sensibilities of North Indian classical music, the compositions move in ways that feel fluid and alive, with melodies stretching and gliding, harmonies shifting with subtle but purposeful intent.

Take Clouds Above Golden Fields or A Full Moon Rising, where the music seems to hover in a kind of suspended state, anchored by tonal centers that allow melodies to breathe and wander. The phrasing in the vocals are there, aided by the use of open strings and drones, giving these pieces a sense of quiet introspection that does not tip over into stillness. They feel less performed than uncovered, as though they have always existed, waiting to be heard.

Elsewhere, the album finds a different kind of momentum. Tracks like Palomino, Land of Green and All The Stars Tonight introduce parallel harmonic movement that gently reshapes the terrain, adding lift and forward motion without ever overwhelming the core melodic voice. These are pieces that expand outward, drawing on contemporary jazz textures while maintaining a strong sense of narrative cohesion.

And then there are the moments of pure intimacy. On The Farm strips everything back to solo acoustic guitar, offering a closer, more immediate connection between player and listener. These are not interludes so much as anchors and reminders that, for all its breadth, the album remains deeply personal at heart.

Across the record, there’s a careful balance at play. Full ensemble arrangements sit comfortably alongside more sparse, folk-leaning textures, with each informing the other, each adding weight where needed or space where appropriate. The sequencing reflects this beautifully, guiding the listener through a series of shifting perspectives without ever losing its sense of direction.

But beyond its technical and structural strengths, what truly defines American Heartland is its sense of presence. This is music that feels lived-in, and brought to life through genuine human interaction. You can hear this come across in the phrasing, in the interplay, and in the way each piece seems to evolve organically rather than follow a rigid blueprint.

American Heartland is less about individual standout moments and more about the journey it creates as a whole. It’s an album that invites you in, asks you to stay and rewards that time with layers of detail.

2 Recording Session The Village Studios Todd Mosby photoby Andrew Matusik

About Todd Mosby

There are artists who follow tradition, and then there are those who expand it, quietly reshaping musical language through curiosity, discipline and a deep sense of purpose. Todd Mosby has spent his career doing exactly that, forging a distinctive voice that bridges continents, cultures and compositional philosophies.

Born and raised in Missouri, Mosby’s music remains deeply connected to the landscapes of his origin, yet it rarely stays confined to any one place. His work is defined by a seamless integration of Western guitar traditions with the tonal depth and expressive nuance of North Indian classical music, a path shaped through years of dedicated study and immersion. This cross-cultural approach informs not just his technique, but the very architecture of his compositions where melody leads and harmony follows with fluid, intentional grace.

Mosby’s playing is marked by clarity, space and a vocal-like phrasing that allows each note to resonate fully. Whether working within a single tonal center or exploring parallel harmonic movement, his music unfolds organically, guided as much by instinct as by structure.

A committed collaborator, Mosby has worked alongside some of the most respected musicians in contemporary jazz and beyond, valuing the immediacy and depth that only live interaction can provide. For him, music is not a solitary pursuit but a shared experience.

That vision reaches a new level of clarity on American Heartland. Anchored by Mosby’s guitar work and guided by two time Grammy-winning producer Jeffrey Weber, the album features contributions from some of the most respected players in contemporary music. Among them are Vinnie Colaiuta, whose drumming brings both precision and elasticity to the rhythmic foundation, and Leland Sklar, whose unmistakable bass tone adds warmth and depth. Tom Scott lends his signature woodwind voice, shaping the album’s melodic contours with a seasoned, expressive touch, while Michael Manring introduces a more fluid, almost orchestral approach to the instrument. The rhythmic and harmonic palette is further expanded by Luis Conte on percussion and Dapo Torimiro on piano and keys, whose playing helps shape the album’s tonal atmosphere. Around them, a wider ensemble, including brass, strings, and vocalists such as Lola Kristine and Laura Vall, adds texture, color, and emotional nuance to the broader sonic landscape.

Across his work, Mosby continues to balance structure with spontaneity, intimacy with scale. His compositions move effortlessly between solo acoustic reflections and full ensemble arrangements, always guided by a clear emotional throughline. With projects like American Heartland, he continues to refine this vision, crafting immersive, emotionally resonant works that invite listeners into a world shaped by memory, movement, and the enduring influence of place.

Keep up to date with Todd Mosby on his Website

Stream music on Spotify and Apple Music

04.14.26

by Jane Lambert

Wayward Sparrow Introduces a Story Driven Sound with Latest Release “Wayward Sparrow”

Songs get written for all sorts of reasons. Sometimes they’re just there to pass the time, sometimes they’re chasing a feeling and sometimes they’re built around nothing more than the urge to tell a story and see where it lands. “Wayward Sparrow,” the new track from Rich Clark’s project of the same name, is one of those songs that started with a simple idea and trusted itself enough not to overcomplicate things.

It began as an attempt to write something in that bluegrass tradition. Something certainly narrative driven, something that moves. The story itself is a familiar one: an innocent young girl who ends up heading down the wrong path without really meaning to. No big dramatic twist here, but very much a story that is something you have heard before. And this is what makes it work.

Musically, the single stands out as the most rhythmically driving track on the album. While the forthcoming record Devil By My Side as a whole leans more into sparse, atmospheric acoustic arrangements, “Wayward Sparrow” introduces a subtle forward momentum without compromising on its stripped down identity. Acoustic guitar remains the focus here, supported by understated vocal harmonies that drift in and out like texture. Small details that add depth without disrupting the minimal framework.

This atmosphere carries over into the recording process itself. Each song on Devil By My Side was self-recorded and self-produced by Clark, who chose early on to invest his time into learning the craft of recording rather than relying on traditional studio environments. This comes across in how honest the music is in its execution and being completely self-made.

“I create music mostly for myself because I enjoy writing,” Clark says. “That said, I hope people connect with these songs as something made passionately and genuinely – something they want to return to and listen to again.”

That ethos runs through Wayward Sparrow as a whole: music built on instinct, space and clarity over perfection. Slight imperfections become part of the overall language, giving the songs a sense of character that polished production often smooths away. And in the case of “Wayward Sparrow”, it’s exactly that balance. – between movement and stillness, story and space, that sets it apart.

About Wayward Sparrow

Wayward Sparrow is the independent project of Detroit based songwriter Rich Clark. Originally starting out as a heavy metal guitarist, Clark gradually found his way into country, folk, and Americana drawn to the storytelling and simplicity of the form. That shift shaped a sound built around space and atmosphere rather than layered production.

All music under the Wayward Sparrow name is self-recorded and self-produced, reflecting a deliberate choice to learn the craft and keep the process entirely hands-on.

Connect with Wayward Sparrow on Instagram

Stream music on Soundcloud and YouTube Music