Avalon Emerson and Bullion Are on the Same Team

Avalon Emerson is a New York-based artist, producer, and DJ; Bullion, aka Nathan Jenkins, is a London-based electronic producer and songwriter. Bullion’s latest record, Affection — which features contributions from Panda Bear, Carly Rae Jepsen, and Charlotte Adigéry — is out this Friday on Ghostly International. So to celebrate, the two friends caught up about its creation.
— Annie Fell, Editor-in-chief, Talkhouse Music

Avalon Emerson: I mean, you’re a producer, and so part of your job is collaborating. But you’re also an artist in your own right, and you have this new album coming out which features some collaborations. How did you meet some of these people and how did these songs come together?

Nathan Jenkins: I actually only met one of those people in terms of the featured artists.

Avalon: Oh, like in person?

Nathan: Yeah, Carly’s the only one that I met and worked with in the room.

Avalon: So you said you recorded this in Toronto?

Nathan: Yeah. So we were working on her album, The Loneliest Time, and I had an early idea for a song which became “Rare.” I thought it was going to be something for her, but she was kind of insistent that it should be my song, but she’d be happy to sing a verse. I think she sees things as very sacred, and she sensed maybe that it’s quite a personal song. When she came to sing on it, she became sort of coy — whereas when we were working on her stuff, she was bouncing around the room and it was a real high energy situation. It was really interesting to see that contrast. It felt like a very generous approach to singing on someone else’s song. I think sometimes I have to be careful about not seeing myself as someone who writes my own music, because I’m not really a performer. I can sometimes treat it as a thing I do between producing, but actually it’s just as important to me. That’s that’s probably the truth of it.

Avalon: You are very present in the creative process, even when it is somebody else’s song, speaking from experience when we were writing music together. How does your mindset change? Is it really just like, “It’s going to be my name on the album attached to this song versus somebody else’s,” and so you approach lyrical stuff or melody stuff or production choices differently?

Nathan: I think where the best work happens is when you can find that threshold and be ready to give up some of what you think are great ideas, and lay them down and go, “OK, well, these these have got to be joint ideas.” Something great can come from that. But, yeah, it’s a real lesson in humility for me.

Avalon: Yeah, totally. I definitely hear that. Catching a vibe with someone — do you see that as a skill to hone? Or do you see that as like, “everyone’s different and some puzzle pieces fit together and some don’t”? How long does it take for you to develop the kind of language and exchange rate when you’re working with somebody new?

Nathan: You know, having done a whole album with you, I think working on the next one now already feels like we’ve gone into another stage of communication. Just on a personal level, we have a better relationship and understanding things about each other. Having gone into this second record with you — it’s daunting because you think, Well, what if I only do one album with someone? What are we leaving on the table? What are we missing by not doing another one?

Avalon: For sure.

Nathan: I’m definitely not a short term person in terms of being able to perform well and understand people, but I think on the other hand, you have to be quite a quick judge of people. Working with you, one thing I love is seeing when you’re hesitant about things that we’re doing. Like, I might be steering something in a certain direction and I can see your hesitancy. And then if it is something you’re into, you give it a second, and then I like seeing your surprise at where we’re now going.

Avalon: I mean, I think it takes a bit of trust — which I have a lot in you now, after doing the first album. The root of a lot of evil is insecurity — insecurity in yourself, or that you don’t think that the album is going to be good. If you can get past as many of these insecurities as possible, that’s where the golden stuff lies. You and I have both done quite a bit since writing that first album, and we’re both hopefully at more evolved states of music making. So I feel definitely more willing to go down a rickety bridge, where it’s just kind of the idea of the final product. Like, “I’m imagining the final version of it. Let’s continue to go down this road.” And then also the trust that if it doesn’t work out, then we can redo it, or we can go down another path. We’re both in it to win it, we’re both on the same team at the end of the day, and we both are in similar places where we want it done right. I trust that I’m not going to be deprioritized, or like, “Well, we ran out of time. There we go. This is how it is, take it or leave it.” I trust that it’ll get figured out.

But yeah, it takes takes a little while. I mean, coming from the dance music world, where it is sometimes collaborative, but often my experience was super solo — collaborating with you and with other musicians who are fantastic players with real instruments, the breadth and spectrum of things to create is super exciting. And, you know, I’m not the youngest or freshest musician anymore, but to feel like I’m just now discovering this field is super exciting. 

Nathan: Well, yeah, I’d say I’m having that same experience. Having Jay Flew come in and join us more on this record we’re doing — he’s such a brilliant musician, and someone who really listens and then translates what he’s hearing, playing through it into a new chord progression, or, “Let’s lift this chorus up so there’s some more energy.”

Avalon: I think the three person in the room thing can be such a sweet spot when it’s working. Because it’s like, you’re on the computer, maybe I’m working on lyrics or finding samples or doing something with the drums, and then Jay’s on a guitar or a bass. It kind of keeps the flywheel spinning. It’s not like, “OK, hold on, let me go away and write some lyrics,” and the train stops. It just really flows, and so when there’s something special cropping up in the room, it’s a lot easier to capitalize on it in that moment and not let it get extinguished. Capturing the human energy during those periods with three people working on it at once is very fun and very fast. It’s been a great experience.

Nathan: Yeah. I think that what I never tire of is just seeing that excitement when something special happens in that scenario — especially with three people, when you’re all reaching for the same thing and you don’t know what it is yet, and then it’s suddenly played in the room or something happens by accident and you all kind of register it. 

Avalon: You’re like, “You heard that too, right?”

Nathan: Yeah. When there’s a kind of unified response, that’s the essence of why I love making music with people.

Avalon: Very true. Because it’s also hard to play both roles when you’re by yourself. You hit something and you’re like, “Oh, that sounds cool, that sounds like a kernel of something,” but it’s very easy when you’re by yourself to change it or go through too many synth presets, or second guess like, “Well, does it remind me of this other thing?” And then I listen to the thing that it reminds me of, which is way better, and I’m like, “Oh, OK, I’ll delete that idea.” So [working with other people] kind of keeps the cart rolling down the road.

Nathan: Any time something happens that takes you out of your routine in the studio, that tends to be when good things happen, or you learn something. You’re on the back foot and you’re reacting and trying to improve your response to those new things.

Avalon: Totally. And hopefully you’re in a room with people who you can trust are going to give you the benefit of the doubt and listen to your ideas, and you don’t feel like you’re having to shout your input — that that’s the safe place to be throwing out wacky ideas. Increasing the randomness and the chaos just a little bit, but to have a structure and a base that you can trust will filter out the bad ideas, to where it’s not just three people saying wacky shit and everyone’s a yes man and then you end up with something totally crazy. But I don’t know, maybe that’s also good. Maybe we have some of those on our new record too.

Nathan: That’s kind of the joy of doing an album, is that you’ve got all these options to jump to, to keep things feeling exciting.

Avalon: And I mean, as an artist who is working on their second album, it’s something that I’m trying to keep in mind. Because the first album was a lot of demos that I had just scratched together alone and then brought to you. This next one is, I think, more collaborative, where we’re starting a lot of stuff in the room together. That, I want to expand, but not have it be too crazy to where there’s too many cooks in the kitchen or too many ideas. Were you thinking about that with your album? Where do you find the place to pull lyrics and inspiration from?

Nathan: I think a lot of it is one liners. I either write down a phrase or a sentence that kind of comes out of the blue, or I’ll read something in a book. I’ve got these little books of poetry and little curiosities in the studio — including one by my dad, actually, that he wrote when he was in his early 20s for my mum.

Avalon: I haven’t seen that! You’ve kept it from me. 

Nathan: I’ll have to bring that out. I started taking some ideas from that quite early on for this album. Sometimes a one liner will stand out, because it says a lot in one line, and I’ll base the song around that. And the meaning will come later, or it will make sense to something that was going on at the time. I’m also just quite a fan of songs full of one liners that don’t have to be particularly narrative. I don’t think I’m so good at writing narrative songs.

Avalon: When you listen to music, are you a lyrics guy? 

Nathan: Yeah, I definitely hear them — because I know some people who literally don’t hear a single word.

Avalon: I know, it’s crazy. It’s probably more common than not. I’m also a lyric person.

Nathan: I think I tend to notice lyrics when there’s interesting melody and phrasing going on at the same time. I think that’s when I lean in on lyrics. I think melody and phrasing are the thing I’m really listening out for. That’s the first thing I hear on a song, how something is phrased and how it scans in the rhythm. If you can then get great lyrics within that framework, that’s actual art to me. 

Avalon: Right. Threading that needle. 

Nathan: Yeah.

Avalon: Even just you saying this now is reminding me that there’s much less — I mean, there’s maybe music theory, or rules that are also totally fine to break, and the tension between this subjective and internal rhythm and melody meeting things like scales or whatever. But lyrically, and [in terms of] verbal rhythm, it seems like there’s much less of an agreed upon, “This is the way to do it, and this is the math of why these notes go together.” Because you listen to somebody like Joni Mitchell, who will string together many sentences into so many melodies, in such a kind of a short amount of time, and there’s so much meaning and imagery imbued in that. I’m sure there are theses written about why it is mathematically correct or something like that, but maybe it’s less of an objective thing, which is why it’s maybe interesting and always evolving as well.

Nathan: Sure. I think that Jeanette song, “Johnny” — the phrasing in that song really stands out to me.

Avalon: The attitude, and even the accent — it all makes sense. It is like a way to emotionally connect with somebody via the vehicle of music. I had a question: We were talking about how some of the songs were from as early as maybe 2016. How do you know when a song is done?

Nathan: I think I know if I’ve gone through a few stages with a song that I want to finish it. Like if it goes beyond three stages, I know that there’s something there that I think is important, and I want it to be complete. 

Avalon: What feels like a stage for you?

Nathan: It will be something as significant as changing the chords completely. It’s this constant, sort of slightly competitive thing of the music moving ahead of what the vocal is doing, and then “Alright, the vocal now needs to match that.” Then you record a new vocal and it’s like, “Alright, what can happen in the changes that actually make the vocal now more interesting?” When there’s an equilibrium between the harmonic information in the music and the vocal, I think as long as it feels like there’s that battle going on, that tells me that it’s something worth finishing, at least for my own sake. Is there a moment for you when you think, “Alright, that’s it. That’s the end”?

Avalon: It’s different for different songs. Maybe one song, the idea and the locus is there and I have a pretty clear idea of the potential of what it could be — and it might be a long road to get there, but that there is something and I can see the glimmer in the distance and that it’s worth trying to get there… There are no songs that are ever really done, especially these days. The fallacy of infinite choice and infinite mutability is an annoying trap. I think a lot of that creative energy and time is probably better spent working on something else. That’s when you don’t have a clear direction of, “This is where I think the song should go and we should get there.” The way that people make music these days with computers and DAWs, everything is kind of infinitely editable and it’s really a constant reminder to not do that. 

I also think that from 0% done to about 85% done, that can be more objective in the doneness, or even the goodness of a song. But I think the last 15%, 10% — certainly the last 5% — is pretty subjective. There’s tons of songs out there that millions of people love — and it’s not just lowest common denominator, random top 40 stuff, but stuff that people really, genuinely, emotionally connect with — that I don’t. Does that mean that song is not done? Of course not. So it’s reminding yourself of that too, like, “Should I really, really, really sweat over this last few percent? Because it’s going to be a little bit subjective to me.” And like I said, if it’s a song that I know it’s going to be there but I know that this vocal is just not right and it’s going to bug me — yes, change it. But you just have to draw a line somewhere. As long as you’re not trying to rush through the album too quickly, you can go back later, and maybe when you’re introducing the song into the little kindergarten playpen of all the other songs and getting them ready for the album, then you’re like, “OK, now it makes sense to redo it in this other way.”

Nathan: That definitely makes sense. And in relation to a whole record, you can kind of use the rest of the music to give you a marker for what’s finished.

Avalon: Or just like be like, “OK, maybe this isn’t on the album and we’re just going to hold it off until the next one or some other project.” Which is also totally fine. Also, having the confidence in yourself like, “It’s OK, you can write another song…” 

Nathan: Coming up to 10 years on that song from 2016 — I actually put it on the record after the record was mastered.

Avalon: Which one is it? 

Nathan: “Cavalier.” I updated that quite a bit to feel more sonically in line with everything else. But it seemed to me that it may come out another two years later, potentially, and that would be the 10 year mark, and that just seems beyond the statute of limitations. I guess you set these arbitrary limits that don’t mean anything to anyone else. Because no one knows how old [it is].

Avalon: Know one even knows the song exists.

Nathan: But I think it’s important to follow your own guide with that stuff as well. If it’s important to you, then you’ve got to listen to that, because it’s some pretty personal work you’re putting out there, isn’t it? 

Avalon: Right.

Nathan: I was going to ask you about limitations, actually. How often have you actually set limits when you’re making music? Like, “I’m just going to use this kick drum for this whole EP.”

Avalon: Maybe it’s not so much of a limitation, but after this last year doing the Charm live and having that take over most of 2023 — which was so crazy and intense. I hadn’t written much new music, but then something happened between Christmas and New Year’s. I was alone in Berlin in my apartment, and I was about to play Panorama Bar for New Year’s, and I had four days. Hunter [Lombard] was going to come meet me, but I was alone for a little bit, and I just wrote a ton of new dance music, which is something that I had not done for so long. I hadn’t written a something for the end result of it to be in my DJ set in a really long time. And I just sat down and tons came out. I think that doing the Charm stuff, at least for me, was really intense, and I do think I kind of leveled up my songwriting and musical creation approach. But it also bifurcated the aims of the stuff that I do musically, where it’s like, This is stuff I’m singing, this is emotional depth and vulnerability. And this DJ stuff is like, I’m a DJ and I want to make some stuff that I would play. I want it to hit, I want it to be fun. I want it to be impressive, but not too serious. So I guess that was less of a limitation, but more of an allowance to do stuff in a certain way for this certain output and purpose. Having both is actually increasing the output of everything — that was honestly very unexpected, and very fun and cool They’re both pressure release valves for the other one. Making some banger stuff for my Panorama Bar sets makes it feel OK to write a kind of quiet, soft, guitar folky country song. I don’t have to consciously overlap the two Venn diagram circles too hard in one song or one album. 

Nathan: That’s cool. And with that music that you wrote in that time, did you have an idea of what you wanted it to be like when you sat down to make a track? Or stood up to make a track—

Avalon: I do have a standing desk in Berlin. [Laughs.] 

Nathan: Was there an idea in your head that you were trying to translate into a piece of music? 

Avalon: Yeah, for sure. I feel like I’ve DJed so much that, for my style of DJing, I know what needs to happen. I can do a lot of it on the CDJ or with layers, but sometimes you can’t, and sometimes you’re just inspired by some song and you want to gnarl it and add in some other synths or a crazy kick drum or like, “Oh, I downloaded these packs of vital presets that make sick basslines, I’ll add these here.” And the juxtaposition of that with maybe some funny Beach Boys sample or something… It’s fun. I feel like I have an idea of something, and then the execution of it — it’s pretty quick to make dance music these days in general, I think, and I’m pretty fast in Ableton now. 

And I’ve kept making dance music, so now I have kind of a lot of dance music of my own, whether it’s an edit or original stuff, that I’m playing right now. It’s exciting to know that I haven’t fallen out of love with making dance music, because I was definitely like,“Wow, maybe I’m done.” I was having those thoughts, certainly around when we were writing Charm, and which was also the pandemic and everything. But it’s nice to know that it’s still fun.

Nathan: Yeah. I think I’ve only managed to make one track I would consider a dance-y track that actually has the patience to build and stick around for longer than three-and-a-half, four minutes, on Blue Pedro. That took a lot of poise for me to allow a track to really go round and round, and hopefully not feel stagnant, but also without trying to change too dramatically and not take any shortcuts to making it feel dramatic.That’s something with dance music I find I’m really in awe of — how to have the patience to do that and for things to not be boring.

Avalon: Yeah, definitely. I mean, the ever-dwindling attention span is something that you have to deal with on the dance floor as well as on Spotify, or on a 15 second TikTok clip where you’re trying to go get your song to go viral. We’re all dealing with the same shit. But I think that with dance music, you’re not playing for a more distracted audience — maybe that’s a misnomer that people think about, where it’s like, “Oh, it’s so repetitive because people are not paying attention or they’re drunk,” and so you have to be cartoonishly over the top with stuff. People do treat music production like that, and it works for them, and that’s fine. But you’re making music for someone who’s in ideally more of a meditative state — like a runner. You want to have a groove that can you can lock in with the rhythm of your body and your heart rate, and you’re building pressure and there’s the repetitiveness of a beat, but you still can incorporate some songwriting. I mean, it’s basically just like disco, right? That has both of those things in it, often. 

I think that CDJs are great now, because you can also be like, OK, I don’t think we’re quite [there]. The emotion and the movement of the dance floor feels like we should just go around this 16-bar loop maybe a couple more times. And then I’ll go back and edit it. Or sometimes I’m like, OK, it’s feeling a little like stuck, I’m gonna jump forward 32 bars. Each dance floor is different each time. It’s like, are you playing it at midnight or are you playing it at 3 AM? I’m also coming from a world where, I remember when I was first starting to pay attention to dance music in a kind of intellectual way — I was listening to a 15-minute Lindstrøm track like, “This is sick. It’s the same exact beat for 15 minutes.” [Laughs.] But also, I will play little two minute snappy things, or layer stuff like an a cappella over something else to where it’s a very long piece, but kind of heterogeneously chopped up into this exciting long tube… But yeah, dance floors are changing and attention spans are changing, and it’s the same kind of thoughts as when you’re producing a pop record.