Q&A: Yves Jarvis on Intuition, Independence, and Artistic Freedom on ‘All Cylinders’
INTERVIEW
INTERVIEW
☆ BY NTHATILE MAVUSO ☆
Credit: Casanova Cabrera
YVES JARVIS HAS ALWAYS BEEN A SOLO ARTIST AT HEART, CAPTURING RAW, PERSONAL MOMENTS THROUGH HIS MUSIC. With his latest album, All Cylinders, Jarvis returns with 11 tracks that speak to the power of independent songcraft. Recorded across various locations, including his home, a sublet apartment in Montréal, and a studio in L.A., the album is a testament to his commitment to maintaining creative autonomy. Drawing inspiration from a diverse range of influences from Frank Sinatra to Captain Beefheart, Jarvis molds these sounds into a unique expression of bold musicianship and pure songcraft.
In the making of All Cylinders, Yves Jarvis embraced and romanticized the challenge of creating music without any external contributors, taking full control of every note and key. The album's production process was as disjointed as it was intimate—recorded on everything from a half-broken laptop to skeleton software like Audacity. Through intuitive techniques and minimal engineering, Jarvis broke free from his earlier obsession with analog tape, choosing instead to focus on the emotional core of his music.
With All Cylinders, Yves Jarvis pushes the envelope of what it means to work independently as a musician. Changing recording methods was bigger than exploration: it symbolized stripping away the preciousness and perfectionism often associated with music production. His latest work is a collection of songs that defy the expectations of a cohesive concept, each track reflecting a vivid snapshot of his creativity.
LUNA sat down with Yves Jarvist to discuss his upcoming invigorating album, his dismantled and simultaneously cohesive production process and the beauty influence.
LUNA: You've created All Cylinders and played all 16 tracks yourself. How has the experience been? What was the production process like?
JARVIS: It's funny how finishing an album feels. I think a lot of artists relate to the struggle of knowing when something is truly done—whether it needs more edits or scrutiny. With All Cylinders, it was the first time I worked in so many different places. I usually record where I live, but this time, I was constantly moving—recording at my parents' house, in different studios, sublets, and apartments. Because of that disjointed process, I didn’t initially see it as a complete album. I thought I had a collection of singles and just started passing them around to friends.
At the time, I had just left my contract with Anti and Flush and was looking for a new label. When I connected with the team at In Real Life and Next Door, they saw what I couldn’t—they recognized it as a finished album. That realization aligned with my approach for this project. I wasn’t working toward a strict concept or vision like I usually do. Instead of a top-down process, where I defined the concept before recording, this was more bottom-up—focusing on each song individually, imagining how it would stand on its own, whether live or on the radio.
I wasn’t necessarily catering to the singles-driven way people consume music now, but I was inspired by artists like Joni Mitchell, where every lyric feels like a world in itself. Albums are still the definitive artistic statement for me, but this time, I wanted each song to carry the weight of an entire album on its own. The label helped shape it into a cohesive project, and that’s why I named it All Cylinders—because every track fires on all cylinders, each standing on its own without relying on an overarching theme.
LUNA: That’s really interesting, and there’s so much to take away from what you said. You mentioned Joni Mitchell as an influence, but I also read that you listened almost exclusively to Frank Sinatra for a year. How did that experience shape you musically? Given that Sinatra’s music is heavily instrumental and reflective of its era—booming, orchestral, yet with a voice that’s rich but never overpowering—how did that influence your approach to creating your own soundscape? Also, you’ve described yourself as more of a recording artist than a songwriter—did Sinatra’s work impact how you think about performance and production?
JARVIS: The way Sinatra uses his voice as an instrument was hugely influential for me—his phrasing, cadence, and articulation made lyrics feel more dynamic. I’ve always enjoyed writing lyrics, but I used to treat vocals more like another layer of texture rather than a storytelling tool. I never focused much on articulation or making lyrics fully intelligible.
That shifted when I started thinking more about live performance. Touring made me more aware of audience dynamics and how songcraft translates in a live setting. Sinatra embodies that balance perfectly—his voice blends seamlessly with the instrumentation while still delivering a strong narrative.
I also love how his phrasing feels natural, almost conversational, which reminds me of something Joni Mitchell once said: that great singers sound like how they talk. That’s something I strive for—to have my vocals carry the same energy and authenticity as my speech.
LUNA: One thing I’ve noticed, both from listening to you and reading about your work, is how deeply influenced you are—not just as an artist, but as a person. I read that you channeled Paul McCartney’s McCartney II while recording your album, working with bare-bones setups, Audacity, and stock plugins, really embodying that DIY spirit.
Given how much inspiration you draw from other artists, how do you balance those influences with maintaining originality in your sound and creative process?
JARVIS: Yeah, I always say that great artists are great fans. I’m a huge fan of music, art, film, literature—really all creative disciplines. I try to keep that childlike curiosity alive, constantly exploring, analyzing, and breaking things apart to understand them. That perspective is shaped by other artists' perspectives, whether through contrast or alignment.
David Bowie once said, “Great artists steal,” and while that’s obviously tongue-in-cheek, there’s truth to it. Music thrives on motifs—melodic, rhythmic, structural—because they’re inexhaustible. That’s why I find cases like the Marvin Gaye estate suing Pharrell and Robin Thicke frustrating. It sets a dangerous precedent when, in reality, music is built on reinterpreting and evolving ideas. You can be influenced by someone, but it’s impossible to be them—you’ll always bring something unique to it.
LUNA: I think this ties into a broader conversation about gatekeeping in music, which is something I reflect on a lot. Personally, I love sampling, remixes, and reinterpreting source material to create something new. It’s fascinating to see how people debate the use of the same samples or whether music loses originality when it borrows heavily from the past. That’s part of why I was curious about how you maintain your distinct artistic identity while drawing from so many influences.
But shifting gears a bit—I was really intrigued by your decision to create this project without additional contributors. What motivated you to take on that fully solo approach? And, on a related note, you’ve mentioned how you wake up and dive straight into work. How do you think that kind of workflow has shaped your artistry and the way you make music?
JARVIS: I've always worked alone, partly because when I was younger, I was mentored by some of my favorite artists—people I still consider world-class musicians and producers. They taught me how to record and gave me incredible resources, but every time I collaborated in a studio, even with artists I deeply respected, I struggled to be fully myself. The results never felt like an honest reflection of my vision.
Of course, the beauty of collaboration is that it pushes you in directions you wouldn’t go alone. But for me, I’ve always found it hard to dig deep and be completely expressive in those settings. That said, I’m open to collaboration when it happens naturally—it has before—but my recording process has always felt more like a personal document, capturing melodies, rhythms, and lyrics as they emerge in the moment. Even the production—whether I’m experimenting with a room’s acoustics or trying a new instrument—feels like a record of that particular day.
Lately, though, I’ve been moving away from that purely introspective approach. With my last album Zug, and now with this one, I’ve been thinking more about crafting songs rather than just documenting personal expression. In a way, I’m returning to how I wrote as a kid—focusing on storytelling, inventing fiction, and using symbols to express emotions and experiences. I think fiction and symbolism are some of the richest ways to convey personal truths. That ties back to our earlier conversation about influence—certain motifs and symbols keep recurring because they’re inexhaustible. Every time we revisit them, we can uncover new perspectives and meanings.
LUNA: You've talked about your unique process and working alone, but you're also constantly inspired by other things. Given that, how did you transition from being independent to working with a label like In Real Life? What motivated you to release your music with them instead of staying independent, especially when independence seems to align with so much of your approach to music and beyond?
JARVIS: Both In Real Life and Next Door have great rosters, and I really respect the artists they work with. Beyond that, I hadn't been independent for about six or seven years, and the landscape has changed a lot. While I’m still very independent artistically, my business side doesn’t necessarily need to be. In Real Life and Next Door support my work, and I trust them to handle the distribution side—something I don’t want to focus on.
I’m deeply integrated into my creative process, working in small bursts throughout the day, and it takes a lot of mental energy. Handling the admin, distribution, and manufacturing is a different ball game, and I’m grateful to work with people who handle that side while trusting me artistically. Some artists, like Phil Elverum of The Microphones, do everything themselves, but I’m more concerned with the songs themselves. I’d rather have a team that’s grounded in the practical side of things while I focus on the music.
LUNA: You mentioned transitioning from analog tape recordings to using a half-broken laptop. What motivated this shift in your creativity?
JARVIS: I used to think I needed more engineering knowledge to make digital recordings sound rich, like analog tapes. I loved the physicality of tape—the magnetic dust creating an impression of the audio. Recording on tape, layering sound, and manipulating it was my process for a long time. However, I found that I could achieve the same richness with a laptop, using a simple plug-and-play setup. By plugging my guitar through a distortion pedal, I was getting better results, even without knowing much about engineering. I realized I could get crisp, high-quality sound without complicated setups. I’ve also used low-quality mics in the past, but when I borrowed a mic from my engineer, I was impressed by the difference. In this record, I focused on clearer vocals with fewer layers for better intelligibility.
LUNA: My last question is about the music video for your latest single, “The Knife in Me.” How did the concept for the video come about, and what influenced the decision to portray the idea of betrayal while making sushi in a kitchen or restaurant setting?
JARVIS: I've had videos before where the collaboration didn't fully express my vision. I put that on myself because, as a leader, I should be able to delegate my vision. But when it's more about feeling than being articulated, it's easier to do it myself. Through that, I can develop a language to better express my needs and collaborate. In the past, the videos didn’t elevate the material, they were just accompaniments. But Derek’s work is amazing—he has a tremendous vision and is dedicated to making the best thing.
I reached out to him, and he was excited to collaborate. When he asked me about my favorite video, I mentioned Kendrick Lamar’s “HUMBLE,” specifically the fast panning action. Derek had the same robotic arm camera used in that video, so we built the concept around that. I also love chef imagery—how focused and driven chefs appear. I’ve always admired the depiction of their work, so I wanted to incorporate that. Derek’s been incredible, and I’m excited to keep working with him. He also did my “Gold Fill Degree” video, and it’s been a great collaboration.
