Brushing up
Tulsan Chris Combs (Combsy) discusses his path to a debut solo album, which features a number of collaborations throughout the Midwest.
Chris Combs trickiest collaborator right now might be freedom. The Tulsa-born songwriter and multi-instrumentalist has been in bands his whole life, most notably joining the ever-evolving Jacob Fred Jazz Odyssey back in 2008. At 33, he’s releasing his very first solo effort Friday under the moniker Combsy.
“Music has always been a collaboration. Even if I was the guy in the band who had the ball in terms of songwriting, it was still coming from a band,” Combs told The Oklahoman. “This stuff is coming from a singular place. There’s a lot of freedom that upfront was great, but then there’s a lot of responsibility.”
Do you think this sounds good?
No answer.
Are these shirts cool? Crickets.
You get the idea. It can be lonely calling the shots. Combs admitted it’s a little terrifying at times, but the project allowed him to color outside of the lines. Instead of having a band that’s locked in at say five members, he can fill his shifting lineup with a variety of players.
On his self-titled record, he did just that. “Combsy” is an instrumental collection of Tulsa and New Orleans talent. Oklahoma’s Aaron Boehler (bass) and Andrew Bones (drums, vibraphone) spent a few days holed up with Combs at Fellowship Hall Sound in Little Rock, Arkansas, building the spine of the record.
At NOLA’s Marigny Recording Studio, Combs added Brad Walker (tenor sax, Sturgill Simpson), Dan Oestreicher (bass and baritone sax, Trombone Shorty) and Carly Meyers (trombone, Roar) into the mix. Throw in some violin from Tulsan Olivia McGraw (violin), and the rest of the record was hammered out at Combs’ home studio. That’s where the songs started building character as Combs toyed with electronic layers and “swirled” the songs into a finished product.
Good luck trying to define Combsy’s genre. The new record
is free-spirited and uses jazz as a springboard into something transportive, beautiful and delightfully weird. Sometimes all within the same few seconds.
I caught up with Combs to discuss his excellent new record.
Q: The new album’s totally instrumental. Can you talk to me about the challenge of communicating without lyrics?
Chris Combs: Instrumental music acts in a larger realm like abstract art . ... I think art, in general, has potential to become greater than the person who creates it. When it’s met by someone, they experience it and it becomes something new. There’s a lot of potential for that in instrumental music. It’s pretty fascinating.
I like to leave hints in my music. Sometimes my writing is about something really specific, like what I’m going through or reading. There’s a tune called “1939” on the new record. That date isn’t necessarily relevant, but it inspires nostalgia. It gets people thinking about the past.
Q: So can you tell me what a song like “East Tulsa Stomp” is saying about Tulsa? It seems to be talking about your city in a different way from your compositions on 2011’s “Race Riot Suite.”
Combs: Saying what instrumental songs are “about” is sorta funny. I grew up at 3rd and Memorial in a pretty diverse neighborhood, which impacted me in a good way. There was a big Hispanic population. I’m thinking about those old neighborhoods. I grew up going to Eastland Mall, which isn’t there anymore. I started playing shows at venues and none of them are around anymore either. I’ve had like a second life in Tulsa. It feels like a different city than the one I grew up in. It’s grown so much even in the last five years. You go on tour for two weeks and you come back and you’re like, “Woah, what’s that building? What’s this new business?”
Tulsa has always been one of those cities where if you can find the right part of the city, it can be fascinating. Maybe there’s some glorifying of that. “East Tulsa Stomp” comes from a more abstract place.
Q: Tulsa’s Horton Records is putting out your debut. The label’s known for releasing folk and country material. What made you a fit?
Combs: I’m not really sure. They’ve been involved in a ton of stuff. A lot of the more successful stuff has been on the singersongwriter side of things . ... They’ve also worked with And
There Stand Empires, Senior Fellows and a few things outside of the norm. I think you’ll see more of that happening.
Q: It’s difficult for me to picture you outside of Jacob Fred Jazz Odyssey. Can you quantify how much being a fan and then a member of JFJO has shaped you as a musician?
Combs: I almost can’t. It’s like family. It’s on the genetic level. I saw them at Mayfest for the first time when I was a freshmen in high school. I was wide open to be imprinted upon . ... Almost anyone that’s been involved in the band has made some weird, personal impact on me.
Q: How much do your compositions change when they’re performed life?
Combs: Fairly drastically. Especially as the rhythm section changes. I don’t know if it’s quite as perceivable from the audience’s standpoint or not but it’s amazing hearing different pairs of bass players and drummers play the same thing. Where their personal accents lie. It’s all technically the same, but it feels very different. That’s fascinating to me. I’m getting into feel, which is a hard territory to define. With horns, we like to open stuff up and have these sections of improvisation. That’s when it takes on its own life. Group improvisations are written into and happen at different parts of a concert. I get to step back and watch it, as well. I always like hearing individual personalities, especially in horn sections.
Most of my parts are written for the people who are going to record with me. That’s kinda how Charles Mingus’ bands were back in the day. Some of the jazz guys that were rolling with the 5-8 piece bands in the late ‘50s and ‘60s had a lot of strong personalities. Those personalities, through improvisation, helped define the music in a lot of ways.
Q: In contrast, how much did your arrangements change when you entered the studio for your solo record?
Combs: There’s been other records I’ve done where we didn’t know what was going on when we went into a studio or how it’d turn out. This is the closest thing, still not 100 percent, but this was pretty much what I was going for. Tonally. Aesthetically. Whatever. This is the one that feels closest to the mark for me.