1. Future Of Forestry Band
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Contents. History Future of Forestry is an indie rock band from San Diego, California led by multi-instrumentalist, composer, and producer Eric Owyoung. The name comes from a poem by C.S. The project is currently based in Colorado. The band started in 2006 and released its self-titled debut EP in 2006 under Credential Recordings (EMI). Their first full-length album, Twilight, appeared in 2007, but for the next several years, Owyoung and his collaborators focused on a series of EPs, the Travel series, with three volumes released between 2009 and 2010. Another EP series, Advent, devoted to -themed music, debuted in 2008, with additional installments appearing in 2010 and 2013.

In 2011, the Travel series was collected on a single album, The Complete Travel Series, while the same year, the group issued another compilation, A Film and TV Collection, a limited-edition sampler of music Owyoung created for visual media. For the 2012 album, Young Man Follow, Owyoung launched his own label, Sound Swan Records. He also opened his own studio, Utopia Road Studios, where he worked on Future of Forestry projects as well as recording and mixing work for other artists. The following years yielded a 2014 release of the Piano & Strings Sessions, an EP of rearranged Future of Forestry songs orchestrated for piano, strings, and vocals only.

In April 2015 an acoustic duet album called 'Pages' was released as a surprise to fans on Future of Forestry's website and on iTunes. Pages was then later released on vinyl as the band's first vinyl pressing.

In 2016 the band released Awakened to the Sound. Sound Swan Records Future of Forestry has released much of their own music on Sound Swan. However, Owyoung has also mixed, performed and attributed production work for former label mate, 's, and.

How will the legend of the age of trees / Feel, when the last tree falls in England? That question opens C. Lewis’s poem “The Future of Forestry,” a poem about a time in England’s future when all the trees are gone and kids have to ask their grandparents what chestnuts were. It makes sense that Eric Owyoung would name his band after that poem. Future of Forestry’s music lives between eras.

There is something futuristic, at times otherworldly, about their sound, and something very ancient about their struggles. I’m so tired of working / For so long to be loved / I’m so tired of working so long / Oh, I’m tired of working to be loved, Owyoung sings in his song “Working to Be Loved,” a lyric that made even more sense to me about three-fourths of the way through this interview.

Eric thinks Lewis’s poem is a challenge for us to not cut down the trees in our own lives, a challenge to reconnect with who we are in our natural state. And reconnecting is exactly what Eric has been doing this past year: staying home, not touring, redefining himself as a musician, and more importantly as a man. We talked with Eric on his 39th birthday. What brought you to San Diego? Back around 2000, there was a youth camp being put on in San Diego, and just randomly they wanted me to lead their music. I’ve been in San Diego ever since.

I read that you studied classical music before you started doing more rock-n-roll type stuff. Yeah, I started studying in Seattle, and then I transferred to Boston University and studied classical music there. I was pretty determined to be the next Boston Symphony Orchestra conductor some day. I was very, very seriously studying classical conducting. I’d done that since high school, but by the time I was out of college and taking it a little more seriously, it was studios from then on.

So what was the path from leading music at a youth camp to where you are now with Future of Forestry? I was leading worship a lot in the church, and I did that for seven, eight, nine years. Something like that. It was a good experience.

That’s how I got my feet wet in terms of being comfortable on a stage. The songs I was writing were more for church, but the things I was going through in my life were really painful. I was going through a divorce, and my whole life felt like it was starting over again. Pretty soon the songs I was writing were no longer songs you could sing in church.

They were pretty raw and real and personal. The label I was on at the time was gracious enough to just go with it. They were like, “You know what? You just need to start writing under a different name.” That’s how I formed Future of Forestry. “The Future of Forestry” is the name of a C. Lewis poem, right?

Are you a big C. Lewis is a great writer. He’s really heady. He gets into the language and the meaning. He pushes you to think and challenges some of the things you’d normally accept on an everyday basis.

He’s really awesome for that, but he’s also super creative. I relate to that a lot. My music is a lot like that. It’s very artistic and dreamy, but it’s also very technical in some ways.

It’s complicated and complex. Anyway, he wrote a poem called “The Future of Forestry.” It’s an obscure poem, and I found it in his book called Poems. Was there something about the poem that you connected with, or did you just like the name? At first, I just liked the way it sounded and had no idea what the heck it was talking about. It’s weird though. It was almost serendipitous. I feel like the name found me.

Future Of Forestry Band

The poem is about a time in England in the future, when all the trees have been stripped bare and the kids have to ask their grandfathers and grandmothers what a tree was. It’s a bit of a metaphor about our lives. We tend to be very out of touch with our natural state — “natural state” meaning our state without a cell phone, an iPhone, Twitter, Facebook, all these crazy things that run our lives and that we absolutely rely on in order to exist.

The poem is kind of a challenge not to cut down the trees in your life, to not be mowed down by industrialization. That sounds heavy. It’s pretty heavy. It’s not light stuff.

Do you gravitate toward stuff like that still? Are you a big reader? That’s funny. I don’t, actually.

I don’t know if you’ve experienced this, but a lot of people when they’re in college and start thinking on their own, they gravitate toward those heavier things. Now that I’m older, that’s the last thing I want to do. I just want to sit and read a biography about some Civil War guy. Something I can just experience rather than sit there and think.

I definitely don’t gravitate toward that heady stuff as much as I used to. Do you think moving away from the heady stuff has changed your music? The older I get and the more I continue to write, I think it’s getting more honest.

Does that come out just in the lyrics, or does it affect the instrumentation too? Both, you know? People ask me if I write the lyrics first or the music.

I definitely hear a sound and have a feeling I’m gravitating toward, but I don’t write lyrics in isolation. They work on each other.

A lot of it is self-conscious too. Most of the time when I’m writing, I’m not sure what I’m writing about. Then a year, two years, three years, four years later, I look back and I’m like, “Wow, that’s what it was about.” It’s almost prophetic. It’s a weird experience. It’s kind of like what you were saying about the name of the band.

Sometimes a thing comes to you but you don’t find out why for a while. Yeah, yeah, exactly. And that’s kind of the fun part of being an artist. You get a sense that you’re surrounded by something bigger. It’s not just that you’re creating something, but you’re experiencing something too.

What’s your process like in the studio? I definitely create in the studio. Some bands have permanent members, and they get together, and they write the songs, and they practice the songs, and they tour the songs, and then they go into a studio and record the whole album in a day, and they’re locked in, and they’re jamming.

Sometimes I’m jealous of that because it sounds really fun. But I’m the exact opposite. I’m experimenting. I’m demoing parts on parts. I’ll write a bass line. I’ll write a guitar line. I’ll write some keyboard lines.

Future Of Forestry Youtube

I’ll go back and change the bass line. I’ll add some drums. I’ll go back and change the vocals.

Everything’s kind of evolving. It’s a very organic process. Oftentimes, my very, very best ideas and very, very best sounds are a complete accident. I’m working in Pro Tools and I accidentally move the guitar part. I hit Play and I’m like, “Oh, my gosh, I never would have thought of that! That sounds amazing!” Those are really special moments, and they happen pretty frequently.

But I guess they happen frequently because you’re constantly working. Yeah, I’m constantly working, and I’m open to it. If you’re too engineer-brained as you’re working, you’re not going to be creating a whole lot of accidents. You’re not going to be open to it. I’m always hungry for the accidents Do you play a lot of live shows? In the past, I’d do, I don’t know, two or three tours a year.

So compared to most artists, not that much. This past year, I took the whole year off from touring, which was really, really life-defining for me. I’ll be gigging a little bit this year; but compared to most artists, I am definitely home and working in the studio more than most. What did you learn during your year of not touring? I think I began to define myself without the word musician. That’s been the healthiest thing for me.

If you identify yourself as a musician, and you see your occupation as musician, and you’re worried about writing the next hit song and becoming more popular, those are things that can only get in the way of bringing out the true music that’s in you. When you’re thinking about all of those things, you’re not writing from deep within.

But when you get rid of all that stuff, you’re like, “You know what? This is what’s inside of me, and I just want to create because that’s what I want to do.” I think it’s a really different process.

I feel like there was a lot of junk in my life surrounding being a musician that I was able to push out of the way and get rid of. I started seeing myself as just a person.

Whether I was a musician or a doctor or a jobless person, there was still a “me” in there. So if you don’t define yourself as a musician, how do you define yourself? For me, it’s just knowing that I’m a son of God — to be blunt. When I was growing up in Christianity, being a Christian meant that you’re a servant. You’re all these kinds of lowly things. You’re never good enough for God, you know?

This year, I’m just now realizing that we’re not these icky beings that God created on accident and was like, “Oh, I’ll have pity on them.” As creative beings, our importance is unbelievable. I found so much peace this year, and that’s definitely come out in a lot of the music I’ve been doing. Can you identify what’s changed? Have your habits changed? I used to worry a lot. I used to work long hours. My wife — she’s a visual artist — she once said that people’s creative abilities have a lot less to do with the muscle and time they put into their art, and more to do with the freedom they have.

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For example, if I’m stressed out about everything in my life, insecure about everything I’m doing, trying to please everybody, trying to sell records — if you give me a whole month to sweat it out and work on an album, just trying super hard, that effort may produce nothing compared to one hour of absolute freedom. So yes, it’s definitely changed the way I work. I don’t feel like my job as a musician is to put in a certain number of hours. Hours don’t relate to album sales. In music it doesn’t work that way at all.

It really is about that inspired moment and that free moment. It’s counterintuitive. It’s not what we’re taught. We’re taught that we work for what we get. It’s difficult to accept that our job as creatives is just to open our lives and our hearts and get everything else out of the way so we can hopefully receive some inspiration. You have a new album coming out, right? The Piano and Strings Sessions?

I basically took seven songs from my discography, which spans, I don’t know, seven years of music. I picked seven songs and said, “I’m going to limit myself to piano, two violins, cello, and vocals.” So I arranged them in classical style and recorded them all.

Then I put together this little ensemble for a release show we’re doing in San Diego. Super intimate, super classy. We’re going to do it in the middle of this room in a winery.

Dang it, that does sound classy. They have this room where they keep all the wine barrels. We’re going to sit in the middle of that room. Just this intimate, sophisticated event.

Very different from what I’m used to doing. What’s it been like to strip down your old songs? It sounds like that’s what you were doing all last year, kind of stripping back to who you really feel like you are. I honestly hadn’t thought about it until you just said that. But yes, that’s a perfect example of my music reflecting my life.

It’s a relief in some ways, and scary in some ways. There’s nothing to hide behind. With this ensemble, if you play one wrong note, you’re really going to hear it. It’s very scary. At the same time, like you said, it’s definitely me. It’s all stripped down and just me singing, sitting at a piano.

It’s a lot of fun.