1. The Line
Your sound feels deeply rooted in 60s and 70s soul, but never like a copy. What is the line for you between honoring that tradition and making something that feels alive today?
Nathan (Dojo Cuts):
There’s no doubt that we are heavily influenced by music of that era, but there are no absolutes, no definite boundaries as to what we do.
When we make music, we simply play what feels and sounds good to us. It just happens that we love the way instruments were recorded and played back then.
We don’t consciously apply any rules or have grand plans. We just do what we do, and it comes out that way.
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2. The Space
There’s a real sense of space in your arrangements, nothing feels overplayed. How conscious are you about what not to play when building a track?
Nathan:
Arrangement wise, it just feels better for most songs to follow a certain journey. For example, having a chorus as an intro, into a verse, chorus, verse, chorus, bridge, etc.
But there’s no particular template when we write.
With instrumentation, it’s important that there is space in the song for each instrument to take a seat, sit back, or step up and make a speech when the time is right.
It’s not always conscious, but if something doesn’t sound right, we’ll simply not play a certain part or note at that point.
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3. The Energy
A lot of modern soul leans heavily on production, but your records feel very performance driven. How important is capturing a live energy in the studio for you?
Nathan:
Just like rock, reggae, classical, blues, jazz, and many other genres, it simply feels and sounds better when it’s played live by people.
That’s not to say those genres are better than other forms of music. It always depends on the situation and when the music is being listened to.
You wouldn’t want a live band sound at 4:00 AM on a dancefloor in Berghain listening to minimal tech house or jungle. You’d want that precise, sculpted production or a driving break with a heavy bass underneath it.
Having Flea doing slap bass there probably wouldn’t work as well as a growling Reese bass.
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4. The Voice
Your vocal delivery sits right on the edge between control and release. How do you approach that balance when recording?
Sarsha (Dojo Cuts):
It honestly feels like a very natural space for me, that constant push and pull between control and release.
When I’m recording, I’m not trying to force one or the other. I let the emotion lead, and then it’s about trusting myself enough to either hold back or let go in the moment.
That tension is where everything feels most honest.
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5. The Groove
The rhythm section feels incredibly tight but never rigid. How do you develop that groove as a band?
Everything happens in the moment.
These days, the “band” is primarily me playing drums, bass, guitar, and keys. But because my main instrument is guitar or bass, when the drumming needs a real drummer, I get my friend Mitch to come over and lay down a groove.
Horns are usually Ken on trumpet.
Originally, there was a full band of 5 to 7 people. The first two albums were recorded that way. Sarsha and I have been part of it since the beginning, and Ken joined on the second album.
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6. The Definition
You’ve worked within a classic soul framework for years. Has your definition of “soul” changed over time?
I’ve never really thought about the definition of a genre, but I know they exist.
Like Chuck Berry, that’s Rock n Roll. And as a big Bon Scott era AC/DC fan, you can clearly hear that swing in their music that gives it the “roll.”
Compared to bands like Led Zeppelin, who in many cases play more straight rock. Both are incredible in their own way.
Also, I’m a junglist for life. I didn’t choose it, it just is. Same with hip hop. These are clear genres, but the lines can blur.
When it comes to soul, the framework laid down by the MG’s, the Funk Brothers, Muscle Shoals, FAME studios, all of that… it just works.
Sometimes the edges blur, and that’s part of it.
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7. The Process
After your hiatus and return, did anything shift in how you approached songwriting or recording?
Most of the new music is recorded as it’s created on the day.
The process usually starts with drums. Then I’ll grab either bass or guitar and play along with the recorded drums until something feels right.
From there, I layer the other instruments, doing a few takes until it feels good.
Sometimes, but rarely, parts get re-recorded later. Most of what you hear are those first takes.
For example, “Rome” was done instrumentally in about 2 to 3 hours.
The draft gets sent to Sarsha, who lives about 1,000 km away. If it connects with her, she writes and records vocals at home, then sends them back. I handle the final mix.
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8. The Imperfection
There’s a rawness in your recordings that feels intentional. Do you embrace imperfections as part of the sound?
The imperfections are there because we’re not perfect musicians.
Also, I’m kind of lazy and hope those little noises or wrong notes go unnoticed. I guess they don’t.
And maybe it’s also the way I approach recording, just learning as I go, putting a mic somewhere and capturing the moment.
Nothing is snapped to the grid.
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9. The Identity
With different musicians involved across recordings and live shows, how do you maintain a consistent identity?
It all starts with me being a control freak.
Jokes aside, it mainly comes down to Sarsha being the voice. To be clear, Sarsha is Roxie Ray.
And the fact that I’ve been there from the start.
It’s probably our personalities imprinted between the notes, in the feel of the grooves, and in the tone of the sound.
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10. For The Record
If someone hears Dojo Cuts for the first time, what do you want them to feel in their body, not just understand in their head?
Enjoyment, or some kind of heightened emotion.
I can get teary listening to certain songs. Like Bob Dylan’s “Hurricane”, even after hearing it countless times, the depth still hits hard.
Or “A Hard Rain’s Gonna Fall”, especially the Staple Singers version. That delivery makes me stop whatever I’m doing. Then there’s the imagery that Bob’s lyrics command. Just yesterday I printed out 2 verses and put the printout on the fridge. These excerpts below simply move me.
Even just reading certain lines can move me:
Heard ten thousand whisperin’ and nobody listenin’
Heard one person starve, I heard many people laughin’
Heard the song of a poet who who died in the gutter
Heard the sound of a clown who cried in the alley
I met a young woman whose body was burningI met a young girl, she gave me a rainbow
I met one man who was wounded in love
I met another man who was wounded with hatred
Also, listening to the riff and groove in No Quarter (LZ) or No One Know (QOTSA) or Bulls on Parade (RATM) - they move me at a primal level. I can only hope the music we make has a fraction of the power and potency of these examples and that it hits folks in some way that they find attractive, thoughtful, or energetic.