In 2021, a few friends, a videographer, and I embarked on a three day journey to record a percussion recital.

My last undergraduate recital had regulations in place to drastically limit attendance, due to the coronavirus. It was likely that my final recital would be the same. I was tired of the limitations, and decided to chase a recording project that felt larger than life.

We recorded five pieces at four distinct locations across Oregon. My vision for the recital was to convey the relationships between sound and space — from bright, lively marimba in a natural amphitheater, to a desolate drums solo played in the darkness, hundreds of miles from civilization.

We loaded a small rental trailer with tens of thousands of dollars of instruments, recording gear, camping gear, emergency kits, and more. The trip had us driving — on average — five--hundred miles a day. We hadn’t scouted the locations in advance, and we weren’t fully confident in the weather, equipment, or the timeline. My anxiety was through the roof. Between locations, I would try to rest and prepare my mind. Once we arrived at a performance site, my team would rush to set up equipment, on uneven rocks, sandy beaches, or dirt patches; I would then have extremely limited time to play through intricate music in unfamiliar environments.

Highlights included running out of gas in Oregon backcountry, camping on endless salt flats, and one wrong turn leading to our audio engineer, Aaron T., reversing a trailer on over a mile of abandoned service road — perilously near a ravine.

All that aside, the end result exceeded expectations.