I always wanted to make a holiday album. I’ve produced and released several Christmas albums in recent years, and I like that these projects are timeless. There’s a reason to listen to them every year. Who doesn’t like Christmas music? There’s something cozy and familiar about them.

My natural inclination was to make a jazz trio Christmas album, with me playing upright bass alongside some talented colleagues on piano and drums. Hmmm…Vince Guaraldi made a gorgeous Christmas album that I can never unhear (I’ve memorized every note of his solos). I’d rather listen to his album come holiday season than anything I would make in this realm.

I considered making a classical guitar album. I released my debut in 2024 and have been on a nylon string kick ever since. However, making a solo guitar project requires a lot of time learning how to fret it. As I ruminated what to make, I kept coming back to this word: easy.

By “easy,” I mean music that is easy to make and easy to listen to. I don’t mean that as a dismissive term. Or to suggest that I wanted to make something that is less than. It’s just that the last few years, I’ve worked on some complex projects that involve public figures, sometimes involving dozens of artists, collaborators, and “handlers.” While these projects are rewarding, they can also be draining. I love making music. Sometimes large projects require one to spend a lot of time on doing other things besides creating the music.

In short, I wanted to make something by myself. I don’t mean that to sound self-absorbed. But I just didn’t want to collaborate with anyone. I wanted to wake up, compose, arrange, play, record. And so, I did what I always do when I embark upon a project.

I went for a walk. I pace ~15k steps a day. During my hikes, I listen to lofi music, which is assembled with grooves, beats, and a few melodic motifs. It’s chill music that I can put it on at any time and feel relaxed. So, I started to make it. Lots of it. I took tutorials, spoke to producers who make this music, and started playing around in Ableton.

At the same time, lofi music can feel impersonal. Much of this music is released under an artistic pseudonym, so you don’t know who is making the music, or in this day and age, whether it’s made by a human. If I was going to make lofi music, I knew that I wanted it to have texture and grit. It had to tell a real story. I would put my name on it and give it the tender loving care I give those big productions.

Earlier this year in spring, I made my first lofi album, which I’ll release in 2026 as volume 2 of my lofi series. I had so much fun making it. I immediately started making this holiday album. bells and beats: retro reflections on the holidays, lofi vol. 1. It’s intentionally lowercase, which bugs me as an obsessive writer always on the lookout for the minefield of incorrect grammar and tiny typos. but lowercase punctuation makes it feel more relaxed, amirite?

The album begins with “tell me in vaduz” which is my take on the spiritual “Go Tell It on the Mountain.” I’ve always loved this song and remember singing it when I was in elementary school. I recorded my nylon string guitar on this piece (and every song), and also added harmonies to give the piece a lusher rendering. This track is ~80 beats per minute, which is right in the pocket of the lofi spectrum of tempos. I added ambient noise that I recorded while I was in Vaduz, Liechtenstein. Folks talking, wind, cars passing. Sure, I could have downloaded free samples or recorded people talking right outside my studio. But then it would be inauthentic to say this is recorded partly in Liechtenstein. I want to transport you (and me) to Vaduz, so you can hear and experience what I did when I was there. At the same time, I don’t want to mix in people talking loudly because then it would interrupt the listener’s experience: “Hey, who is talking in the middle of this music?” Or maybe the listener will get confused and ask someone in the same room, “Did you say something?”

In the breakdown around the 1:15 mark, I added the sounds of the bells from Vaduz Cathedral, which was built in 1874. I pitched the bells so that it would fit in the G key. I preceded the bells with a few knocks on my guitar, to simulate the sound of knocking on a door. I like the idea that church doors are open to anyone who comes knocking. The song ends with the ambient sounds of the street that leads out of Vaduz up to the mountains.

The second track “angels in grand central” was a walk down memory lane for me. When I lived in New York, I would wake up at ~5:00 AM and race to the 6 train. I’d take it to Grand Central so that I could make the morning meeting at the bank where I was working. When I finally left banking, I walked through this iconic passenger hub and stared at the blue ceiling which has constellations. I finally had the time or at least mental space to appreciate its beauty. I recorded the sounds of people scurrying about and the escalators. I sampled these sounds into this song which is my take on “Angels We Have Heard on High.” I like imagining angels in heaven boarding trains to earth to help their assigned humans overcome various obstacles they might be facing. Everyone needs a guardian angel, right? The melody is recast as swooping sine waves that gives it a sort of undulating, careening effect. The slower tempo of 64 BPM keeps things slow and steady.

“kings of muscat” is my take on “We Three Kings.” It’s the only song in 3/4 on the album, which proved to be its own challenge. Most lofi and electronic music is on the 4/4 grid. I spent a considerable amount of time making sure the beat lined up correctly over the 70 BPM tempo. This piece is the most musical of the album because it has space for me to solo on guitar. The minor key and Middle Eastern tonality make it feel bluesy, which is where I’m at home as an artist. I vamped through the music and played what came from my heart. I could have soloed for 10+ minutes, but I wanted to curate the best listening experience. I sampled in the sounds of waves and wind from Muscat, Oman, when I was there a few years ago. The lyrics of “We Three Kings” invoke Bethlehem’s plain and “moor and mountain.” No, I wasn’t in Bethlehem but I was in the Middle East, and it felt right to connect the song to the ambient sounds of Muscat.

“hark the home” is my rendition of “Hark the Herald Angels Sing.” It starts with arpeggiating bells, which gives way to unfolding, strummed organ chords. I wanted this piece to feel nostalgic, so I went with a jazz organ that feels like a hip church. The drums that I made have a tube effect on it to make it feel like we’re looking into a time capsule into a period that has passed us by. During the breakdown at the ~1:20 mark, I sampled in my dad saying (faintly, so you really have to listen for it): “Do you like it? Get another one,” which is what he says when someone opens a Christmas present. These comments typify my father, who is generous and always trying to put the other person in a good spirit. This piece is bittersweet because it reminds me of my childhood and the fond yet fleeting memories I have of it, with my parents trying their best to fill our home with love and my heart with cheer.

I interpreted “Deck the Halls” into “deck the hall of mirrors.” The 65 BPM track begins with a robust electric bass to establish the groove. I slide in with an introductory lick on the guitar. I like introducing the main melodic instruments like this. It’s like the instrument is “clearing its throat” and saying “I’m here.” The melody begins with the guitar but is picked up by the keys. I vary the main motifs throughout to create some dynamism. In 2021, I traveled to Versailles and recorded ambient sound walking around the palace ground. I also made sure to capture what I could (mostly room tone!) inside the vaunted Hall of Mirrors, which is what you hear around the ~1:30 mark. It’s subtle, but it’s there. The thought of celebrating the holidays in a snow-filled Paris is alluring, and I hope this track can transport folks to this thought.

When I lived in New York, I would ring in the New Year at my friends Stanley and Sone’s place. They threw a wonderful bash with shrimp, champagne, and beautiful view of Central Park to take in the fireworks. After midnight, we’d all sing “Auld Lang Syne” together. They’d pass out sheet music and lyrics because nobody knows the lyrics by heart. The party became a tradition until it wasn’t anymore. The hosts eventually stopped hosting the party. Many folks, including myself, had left the city over the years. When I was making “auld lang stanley and sone,” I wanted to evoke my memories of these gatherings. But I also wanted to convey the fleetingness of time and life. While I perform the melody in this song, I also don’t play certain parts, letting the listener fill in the blanks as the melody gradually vanishes. The beat sounds like a clock which gives that feeling of time marching on. As we get older, the things we hold dear are gradually removed like people and places we love. That’s life. But at least we have music to help us cherish those memories.

The last piece is “helen bells” which is a lofi version of “Jingle Bells.” Just a chill groove, introduced by an organ solo. I added sleigh bells to the chorus and panned them to the left and right to make it feel like Santa was arriving from both directions. I mixed in ambient sounds from Helen, Georgia, which is a German town with a population of about 600 residents. They have Christmas shops and seem to celebrate the holiday year-round. I wanted to end the album with this spirit. Wouldn’t it be nice to have that Christmas spirit year-round? I’m all for the changing seasons and rhythms of the year. But the kindness evoked by the holiday season is timeless.

The holidays can be a stressful time, especially for those who’d rather keep to themselves. I hope this music helps you find your chill in this and every season.