Lesley Mok is an immensely creative drummer, percussionist and composer who works in a wide variety of collaborative ensembles as well as writing music for her own projects. She is also part of Polyfold Musical Arts Collective, a really wonderful group of musicians who have been curating a concert series for musicians to present new works of music as well as running a small record label that already has a sizable catalog.
I’ve only known Lesley for a couple of years, but we have played together a few times in informal sessions and I always admired her original drumming and her strong voice as a composer.
In this discussion we talked about her entire trajectory as a musician as well as some of her upcoming projects and plans.
JT: You’ve told me before that you are originally from the Bay Area but I’m a bit curious about your family’s background. Where are your parents from? What did they do?
LM: Neither of my parents are creative professionals, though I'd consider both of them creative people. I'm a first-generation American, and like many immigrants at the time, both of them had an intense desire to climb the social ladder and make it for themselves in the United States. I think uprooting one's life and moving to an unfamiliar place takes a different kind of creativity--figuring out which bus to take, what to eat, how to communicate...they're cultural challenges that require creative thinking.
JT: And, were they the first ones to steer you into getting music lessons? Or was that something that you wanted on your own?
LM: My mom forced me to take piano lessons, but drum lessons were something I asked for.
JT: Before we get onto the drums. I read on your bio that you also played the flute, correct?
LM: Yes! In my elementary and middle school concert bands.
JT: I imagine studying flute and piano was likely helpful, no? You write a lot of music now.
LM: Definitely - it gave me a good sense of tonal harmony, or at least what it sounded like and how it might move. It wasn't until recently that I started writing music, but taking lessons at a young age gave me a lot to work from. It's like learning a language at a young age..you can't really forget it.
JT: That’s amazing! So how did you arrive at the drums originally?
LM: I don't really remember, to be honest, but I took lessons for a few years before joining the middle school jazz band. I would invite friends over to work on songs we learned in school. I was terrified of soloing and I remember wanting to work on trading 4’s so I wouldn’t embarrass myself during rehearsal.
JT: And was it already pretty geared toward a jazz thing? Or were you playing other kinds of music?
LM: I was drawn to jazz from the beginning - it always felt like the music I wanted to play. I wanted to be in a backing band for a singer - my favorite records were with Ella, Billie Holiday, and Nancy Wilson.
JT: What kind of form did that listening take?
LM: One of the first drummers I met, Scott Lowrie, introduced me to a bunch of records like Sonny Rollins Quartet, Sarah Vaughan with Basie, Miles Davis’ First Quintet...He would point out certain things that captured him, like how swinging Philly Joe’s ride cymbal was, or the vibrato in Sarah’s voice, or how relaxed Paul Chamber’s beat was. He would sing along to the drum solos and try to figure out what sticking Philly Joe would more likely play. He introduced to me a listening culture that made me more interested in the music.
JT: What was the transition to Berklee like?
LM: I had started to meet a bunch of other high school musicians in my junior year of high school through programs like the Stanford Jazz Workshop. Everyone could really play, and it inspired me to know that people my age were already so committed to music. I remember Cory Cox and Caili O’Doherty were mentors at the program at the time, and just hearing them play encouraged me to apply to music school.
JT: That’s cool because that's kind of a common thread for a lot of people that I know from the Bay Area. There were all these music camps, and a lot of people went and even if a lot of them didn't end up playing music professionally, they still would end up playing an instrument pretty well and having a really strong appreciation for music.
LM: Yeah, I studied with Akira Tana at the time and I remember he even recommended that I not go to music school; he was like “you should check out these other things”.
I think a lot of my hesitation about going to music school didn't have to do with music itself but how to make a living in music. At that time, coming from a more traditionally minded family, music wasn’t a legitimate practice or career. It wasn’t until college when I built up more confidence and commitment to music.
JT: I remember you telling me that you had a pretty good experience at Berklee.
LM: The first two years at Berklee were a little unstructured and I was sort of confused about how to move forward. I felt lucky to play in a few ensembles that I really enjoyed, including Jason Palmer’s ensemble (my first foray into odd meters and original music) and Ralph Peterson’s Art Blakey ensemble, but I didn’t have high enough ratings to get into some other ensembles. (Those of you who are familiar with Berklee’s rating system can maybe empathize!). I felt a bit discouraged with navigating what felt like a bureaucratic system.
In my third year, I applied to this program called the Berklee Global Jazz Institute, led by Danilo Perez and Marco Pignataro. I didn't get in my first time around, but then I think it was in my sixth semester or something I auditioned again and got in. That program was really significant for me.
Global gave me some clarity in my practice and I was able to prioritize my learning. It was also during this time when I started to think about bigger questions, not just how to play the drums and music, but you know...how to play music in a culturally and socially informed way.
JT: And what were some of the breakthroughs? Was there a teacher that was particularly empowering? Or was it just the benefit of being in the program?
LM: The program itself was very empowering, but Danilo, Terri Lynne Carrington and Ben Street were the three teachers that really influenced me. Bob Gullotti was also enormously influential as a teacher. We would work on playing Bird heads around the drums. He was so thorough with the way he thought about dynamics, articulation, and tambor, and if he didn’t feel like you played the essence of the melody, he would ask you to work on the same thing for the following week. I hadn’t thought much about drumming outside of a rhythmic and linguistic context up until that point so those lessons were super transformative. Bob would play every Monday night at the Fringe--I remember hearing him take a solo on sticks on a ballad at like 40bpm, and being like, “Holy shit, I want to be able to do that.” Bob passed away just last year--he was a completely dedicated teacher and I will always treasure our time together.
JT: When did you move to NY?
LM: I moved in September of 2017.
JT: Okay. And did you move because you felt that New York was a center for this music? Or was there another reason?
LM: There was never much doubt in my mind about moving to New York after school. I travelled between Boston and New York pretty often while I was in school to take lessons or see shows, so after I finished my final year at Berklee I moved here.
JT: There's usually all these logistical and life challenges moving here the first year. How did that affect you? Were you able to get to music right away? Or was there an adjustment period?
LM: It was a tremendous life change. I applied for a bunch of jobs the first week I moved here, and ended up working at a small entertainment law firm for about four months..that's how long I lasted! (Haha) It was super gruesome and I was pretty miserable. I was in the office for nine hours a day, and would head to my studio every day at 6pm and practice until 10pm or so. I would plan sessions on weekends or weeknights after work. Oddly enough, I think I practiced the most when I had that job just because I knew I had to structure my time really well.
It was an emotionally tough time, but it really made me question what was important to me. I think I was scared of what it meant to be a working musician but after working at the law firm, I knew it wasn't something I could do--my body and mind just rejected it. After I quit my job I felt like I had control over my own time and free will, and it was then that I really started pursuing music more fearlessly.
JT: Yeah, I feel like there’s a huge character building that happens in that first year and then the following years almost get easier by contrast or something.
LM: I’m definitely less stressed out than I was that first year. There are always challenges and self-doubt, but I feel like I can return to familiar rooms in my mind and trust that I’ll overcome the moment.
That said, I still worry all the time if my music’s any good, if anyone resonates with it, and if other people like playing with me, etc. (Haha)
JT: And in those first couple of years were you already able to find some people to play with or did it take some time?
LM: I was playing with a lot of really great musicians, but the more I questioned my own artistic values, the more I was able to also find a community of people I resonated with emotionally and artistically. I also moved to Bushwick in November 2018 and started playing with people with completely different value systems. To be honest, I couldn’t relate at first. I heard Weasel Walter for the first time and remember thinking how weird and overwhelmed and intrigued I felt. There’s a record he’s on with Mary Halvorson and Peter Evans, and there are long stretches of time where he doesn’t play anything I can identify as a sound from the drum set. Hearing him along with other musicians like Brandon Lopez and Matteo Liberatore made me think consciously about all the musical choices I can make in any given moment. My first year living in Bushwick felt like everything I had known and felt about music was flipped upside down. I had to learn to engage with creative music beyond the ride cymbal being the main timbral focus...beyond jazz.
JT: I remember you telling me that you didn't start writing your own compositions right away.
LM: Yeah, I didn't really start writing until the end of 2018 with my band The Living Collection. It's funny to think that my first foray into writing was for a large chamber-like ensemble because I feel like I still have huge gaps in my knowledge of harmony and traditional compositional methods.
But it's something that also I think freed me from thinking I had to do a certain thing or compose in a certain way. I learned so much through trial and error...I'd have the flute in one octave and then have bass clarinet in another octave only to realize that the flute was barely audible. I had random mistakes in my chart, or very inconvenient ways of writing things, or literally impossible parts to play, so it was really trial by fire. But I think I learned through having a supportive group of friends for a band who would share their thoughts with me, and criticisms as well.
JT: I think I listened to everything there is currently available from that band. The music is really beautiful. I was wondering what is your concept for the music of the group?
LM: I think it's changed a lot. Some of the first compositions we played had many independent, moving parts. I was drawing a lot of inspiration from Henry Threadgill at that time. I was writing entirely notated music at one point, after listening to more contemporary classical composers like [Helmut] Lachenmann. Recently I’ve been thinking more about the idea of musical democracy and non-hierarchical ways of playing, improvisation being a vehicle for these social-cultural processes involved: spirituality, community-as-oneness, and communal joy. I hope to establish a context in which everyone can participate in music as a necessary ritualistic function.
JT: That brings me to the work that you've been doing with Polyfold Musical Arts Collective. How did it come about and how did you all start fleshing out these ideas?
LM: Well, I'm the newest member of Polyfold. The collective originally started in Detroit and consisted of 20-something musicians. It took on a new shape when a few of its members moved to Brooklyn in 2017, so the current membership includes myself, Yuma Uesaka, Alex Levine, and Ben Rolston. The idea is basically to expand opportunities for improvisers to create original music. That usually takes the form of a monthly concert series, something we call Polyfold Presents, but we’ve also put together these “Sunday Salons,” informal workshops where people can bring their music or share ideas they’re exploring. The idea comes from something Geri Allen used to do with her students. We recently have been working on our record label...your record was actually the first we put out in awhile! So thank you for all your work on that.
*Lesley adds: (Juanma’s band was originally scheduled to perform at the April concert series, but when COVID hit, we commissioned him along with the other artists that we scheduled to perform, to perform a creative work of any kind. He ended up recording four full-length compositions remotely with his band. It was so well recorded and the process was so representative of the moment that we decided to put it out on the label. Check it out - ‘Folklore’ by Juanma Trujillo.)
JT: How, would you describe the role that you have in the collective?
LM: It's hard to say, the structure and the nature of the organization has changed over time, our roles kind of shift as we go. I just worked on writing the last grant. Trying to put into words what exactly is it we do and making sure we're holding ourselves accountable for those things.
JT: Has being part of this initiative been rewarding in a way that you didn't expect? Has it helped you see things in a different way?
LM: Yeah, for sure. It’s made me realize how important and powerful organizing is for the improvised music community and how we all sort of depend on each other.
JT: Yeah, I think I wanted to get your input on that because I’ve been kind of pleasantly surprised to see that you guys as a group of artists who are already playing together and are good friends are also welcoming people from outside your circle. In my time living here I can confidently say that this is somewhat rare.
LM: Yeah..I hope it becomes less rare. I've met some people that have really made it feel like home here.
I think it’s hard to feel a sense of community in a place like New York, where artists-entrepreneurs are constantly up against so many things. It seems like everyone’s competing for the same opportunities.
I think community building starts on a personal level...who you hang out with or talk to, who’s in your band, what kind of bills you’re curating if you’re a bandleader. All of these things are part of what makes a community. The 501c3 is just a status.
JT: So we’ve talked about your main projects, but I can also see that you're doing quite a bit of one off gigs with people just improvising. How has that been helpful in your development?
LM: I often feel like there's a lot of pressure to play written music or to present something really polished, which I also enjoy, but it’s nice to get to know someone intimately without the pressure of following a specific musical format. It’s really invigorating getting to know their musical perspective in an open space and forming a connection.
Depending on the improvisational context, I sometimes feel that there’s nothing I wish to contribute on the drum set. It’s encouraged me to work on different techniques that might produce different sounds and timbres and to search for percussion instruments that might give me a broader range of expression. My dream is to build a drum cage like the one in that iconic photo with Roscoe Mitchell!
JT: Are there any of the other projects that you have that you would like to talk about or mention any other experiences that have been meaningful to you recently?
LM: I recently spent two weeks in Newton, MA with my good friends Maya and Akiva. We had no agenda other than to play music if we felt like it. It was one of the more intimate and spiritually fulfilling experiences I’ve had in awhile. The music felt like an extension of our cooking together, our swims in the lake, our humming. I listened back to some of the recordings we made a few days ago...it feels both personal and non-precious. It reminds me of these words by Nicole Mitchell--
“If you practice your connection to the stars enough, you can go anytime you please. The Dogon mastered it, but the shoebox architects sold kids on rap videos over stargazing. Doesn’t matter how much pollution, or how many ceilings or drones are flying above, the stars are there. I promise. No wonder Lightin’ Hopkins, Jeff Parker, Jimi Hendrix and all the bluesmen made their own vessel guitars to communicate here. And ever better, I’m tellin’ you, there are no consequences, no punishments and no side effects except joy and more strength. Can you imagine? I’m thinking, maybe we can build a bridge from pain to hope and insight and take all our families there.”
LM: Yeah, thanks so much for doing this.
You can learn more about Lesley on her website: https://www.lesleymok.com/
Lesley has all her releases available on: https://lesleymok.bandcamp.com/
