The recording of Evergreen – Walk to Paradise Garden for Adam Geoffrey Cole became a process more akin to a meditative experience. The collection of songs grew from the fragments of personal experiences: loss, reflections on time, life, and death.

It sounds melancholic, but there is light within it — like those rare moments when, in a world seemingly consumed by darkness, a crack suddenly appears, letting the light through. His music carries that crack. Trappist Afterlander himself creates the atmosphere. And it’s strange how easily one can enter this world, despite all its heavy themes. Perhaps it’s because of the way he so deeply infuses his songs with a personal, hopeful perception. So talking to him would be something special. It’s an attempt to see the light through the fog, to discover that rare but precious moment when you’re fully within it but can’t quite understand how you got there.

photo by @trappistafterland

The title of your album sounds almost like a prayer, yet it also feels like a metaphor for something elusive. Evergreen – Walk to Paradise Garden — is this a place you visit in your dreams, or is it a way to describe the connections you fear losing in reality?

The two part title represents two different things. Evergreen is a tribute to my new partner Rachel who is just a wonderful amazing human, and I’m not quite sure what I would have done without her this year. Walk to Paradise Garden is taken from a book of the same name written by Charmaine Clift. She wrote it about my hometown of Kiama, Australia, where she was also born. It’s a wonderful book about a wonderful place. I’m very glad to be living there again, after being away from it for 25 years.

Your music carries the spirit of past decades, yet there’s nothing retro about it. It seems to exist on its own, outside of time. Is this a legacy of the folk music you’ve listened to, or a way to escape the noise of the present?

I guess I’ve always loved the idea of trying to write timeless music, and I do think some folk music can have a timeless quality to it. Folk music is always a nice escape from the noise of one’s life, so if my music can do that for others it would make me very happy. After the last year or so I’ve been reminded how important music is as a kind of comfort, especially during tumultuous times in one’s life. So hopefully this record is a nice escape for the listeners. It certainly was a good distraction for me, whilst making it.

You’ve mentioned that this album was born during trips to visit your mother, who was battling dementia. As a musician, you’re likely used to using your art as a tool for understanding. But was it difficult to turn such heavy personal moments into songs? Did you ever feel the urge to hide from them rather than express them?

I’m not sure if this is a good thing or not, but I never have been the type of person to hide from things. I like the idea of turning negative feelings, experiences etc into something positive, whether it be, by writing a song, poem or just learning from the experience. I guess I’m always mindful to not bury things as they always come back to haunt you eventually, if you don’t deal with them properly.

Some musicians say an album is never truly finished, but there always comes a moment when you have to let it go. Did you feel that Evergreen – Walk to Paradise Garden was completed exactly as you intended?

Strangely enough it was the first album that did feel like it had been completed. The last song I wrote for the album was ‘Evergreen’—I wrote it for my new partner Rachel and it was written so quickly and easily. Once I wrote that song I knew the album was finished. It was strange, but wonderful at the same time.

Have you ever had a moment where you stop being the creator and become a listener within your own album?

It’s a tricky thing to do. I remember once hearing one of my songs on the radio and didn’t recognize it was me. For those few seconds it was quite extraordinary just how differently you hear your own music when you don’t realize it is your own work. So in that sense I think it’s nearly impossible. I think you would need to trick yourself or lose your memory or something to do it properly, hahaha.

The Squall feels like a song that wants to hide something. It’s not a storm that hits you head-on but more of an internal one, felt only if you listen closely. What exactly did you want to leave out of this song? Was it important for the listener to uncover its story on their own?

I guess the squall is written directly about the last year’s happenings. Most particularly being blindsided by my wife of 20 years just before my mother was about to pass. I was in such shock, because as far as I knew it seemed to come completely out of the blue. I had no idea. So dealing with both these things all at once is most definitely what the squall in the song represents. Never trust a ‘so called, self-proclaimed lawyer’;) hahaha

This album is about voices: yours, your loved ones’, your musician friends’. But what do you want to hear yourself, years from now, when you listen to this record again? What’s more important — capturing who you are today or leaving the music for the future you?

I guess what I really want to remember and get from this album is that no matter what happens in one’s life, one can always learn, grow and find hope. I guess as long as one is always growing, all will be well, or at least always evolving towards a higher purpose or idea about yourself and the world. I’ve always used writing records as a sort of spiritual journal of sorts. So, with or without an audience I’ll always continue to write albums. It’s very cathartic and a wonderful way to get things out.

Your tenth album sounds like it isn’t drawing a conclusion but instead opening a new chapter. Do you feel like you’re standing on the threshold of something different?

I’ve always wanted to make heavier music, to be honest. My 2nd love after psych/rock/folk music is old school heavy metal. So who knows, the next album may be influenced by that.

Your album is full of emotions — from sorrow to serenity. But setting aside all the heaviness, is there a song, melody, or even a specific moment that always brings you joy when you return to it?

I think the good old way. It’s such a hopeful song and one of my favourite traditional songs. The Watersons version of it is quite spectacular.

*This interview was made possible by Quite Great PR