IMPHORMAL the Voice of the Cello
by Cynthia C. Davis
Cover photo by David Guthrie
When Mike DeHays came into The Electric Brew in Elkhart, it was his signature straw hat that first caught my eye. Although we hadn’t formally met before, we had already laid down an interesting past like a base line on a looper. We had arranged to meet in May, and our signals got crossed. Then in June a mutual friend Matt Scutchfield and I, by pure synchronicity, went to Apothica Tearoom in Niles, MI, and Mike was playing. It was one of those cause-for-amazement, “what are the chances?” events. And then, two weeks before the interview, my friend Christine DeLaFuente was visiting me. Just as she was telling me that she is on the board of the Arts on the Millrace Festival in Goshen, Mike returned my phone call (to arrange to get together). I told him about the day’s festival; he said he’d just seen it on FB that morning; I turned the phone over to Christine; they made arrangements; and he played in Goshen at the Millrace the next afternoon. “I love those synchronicities!” he said.
It turns out he surprised me in another way, as well. He opened our conversation with, “I read your poem [PanoplyMichiana, July]. I was easily taken away. It’s immersive. It made me think.” I had heard that Mike is a gracious person. I didn’t expect this much grace!
Recently Kelly Morgan (also a cellist) of Experience Michiana WNIT* interviewed him. “Why do you call your music ‘Natural Earth Tones’?” she asked.
He explained the quality of sound of the cello – an experience well-known to audiences and shared by cellists. (see below, “Usonian Dream”) “The sound is the closest to the human voice. There are four giant strings that vibrate in the range most natural to humans.”
He explained to me, “The instrument rests on the player’s breastbone; it touches the heart. You must hear it, to tune it. The sound of the cello is unique among music instruments. The timbre. . . the bow of horsehair drawn lightly across strings sounds the most like the breath. The sound permeates the body of the player. When you’re playing the acoustic cello, you hold it in your knees, in your arms. It resonates in your body. My body was used to the physical resonance. I was physically moved by the resonance from any early age.”
Kelly Morgan pointed out that his music had to ability to change the atmosphere of a place.. “Is that deliberate?”
“It can’t be helped,” he said. “I’m just letting it happen. I incorporate tranquility, peace of mind, and joy into everything I play.”
See Imphormal
10/21 Greenspace in Elkhart, Indiana
10/23 Taverna Tonelli Michigan City, Indiana
“I ate a lot of cold dinners.”
Mike has played the cello since he was 8 years old. Even though he came from a large family that was far from rich, his parents supported his music by getting him private lessons and a ¾ cello.
His mother would call him for dinner, and he would reply, “I’ll be there as soon as I finish this piece.”
She would call again. “Your dinner is getting cold.” Same reply.
“I ate a lot of cold dinners,” he mused. He added, “When I play, I go out of body. A lot of musicians say this.”
(aside: My own mother, who played violin, cello, piano, organ, clarinet, composed vocal choir music, and directed a church choir, used to say, “I would rather play than eat.” Mike is the first person I ever heard express the same sentiment. Is this because they go out of body?)
In high school he also began playing the acoustic bass. One of the orchestra members pointed out that Mike was doing a lot of work and suggested he get an electric bass. They later played in a band together.
“I played the bass for 40 years,” he said. “At one time I was playing in 8 bands. I would wake up wondering where I was supposed to be.”
“. . .it brings people to tears”
He made a huge transition when he realized that all of that playing the bass had not brought him fulfillment. “I’ve played a lot of songs in an atmosphere where people could unwind. It was not fulfilling. I never saw a person moved to tears by the bass.”
On the other hand, the cello reaches something deep in people. “I find it brings people to tears. It touches them.”
The transition took time – from 2014 until 2018 --and involved several discoveries. He discovered the electric cello. Being a tech guy (“I’m a geek”), he was strongly attracted. He tried to play with other electric instruments. But eventually he realized that because of the tuning, the cello will sound out of tune when played with a guitar (which has frets and is tuned according to pre-set intervals). Playing the bass next to the drummer makes sense; however, when playing the cello next to a drummer, the backline is the amplifiers. This results in the cello’s soft sonority being covered up.
The majority of cello players play acoustic and not the electric cello. “We’re renegades. I tried to play with other electric instruments, but you have to hear the cello because it is tuned according to intonation.”
Usonian Dream
Then he discovered the looper, an electronic device that enables him to lay down a track and then play other tracks over it, as it loops back and repeats the previous tracks. With a looper one instrument can sound like a whole band. In fact, at a recent performance (a party) a guest was upset by the complexity of the sound and turned his back on the music. Mike explained what he was doing, and the guest became his biggest fan.
Mike says he is totally dependent on electronics now – and we all know about the lack of dependability of electronics. Even so, it enables him to play solo. And he learned from another musician what to do when the electronics fail. “You say to the audience, ‘Excuse me while I get the magic back.’ And you stop and fix the problem.”
From 2014 until 2018 he worked intensely to master his new discoveries. At first he played for friends. Then he played solo in public.
In the process he discovered Frank Lloyd Wright and the idea of Usonian architecture. Wright wanted to create an American style. It was renewable, affordable, designed for the site from materials from the site. In creating “Falling Waters” Wright lived with the family and designed the home for the needs and way of life of the family.
“One morning I woke up with ‘Usonian Dream’ in my mind. When I perform, I build it, live. Architecture and music are the same.”
The Music
"Martian Jungle Walk" whispers in on a resonating "A," like a secret drifting with the wind. Then a funky pizzicato (plucked) rhythm carries your senses into a smooth stroll. The energy of the rhythm and the twining chords carry you along on a sonic romp. I recommend you listen to this song on headphones. Dehays use of stereo layering in "Martian Jungle Walk" creates an enjoyable experience of gliding notes.
"Bossa Delght" is a light and airy song reminding me of a summer day when nothing is in front of you but the enjoyment of the beach and watching the sunset with people you love. Imphormal's looping syncopation cavorts with quick driving strokes of the bow pushing the ear along a diverting sojourn. We delightfully return to a resolving motif which expands like delightful conversation between friends.
Always Leave Room for God. . .Imphormal
Perhaps the cello produces most beautiful sound. . . and yet, there is little call for cello playing. The few electric cello players are renegades. Moreover, Mike is a composer and a man of humility. It isn’t about him; it’s about the music. This is why he prefers “Imphormal” which is the name of his work.
“What I’m doing is imphormal. I am flawed -- any human should not be presumptive [about himself]. I stumbled on Braen’s Machine, a progressive rock band in Italy, that put out an album Underground. It had a track called ‘Imphormal.’ I gleaned the title from the maestro himself.” [Piero Umiliani, a composer of film scores who used a cutting edge synthesize, and whose record label Luito produced Underground in 1971)]
Imphormal takes him out of the picture and lets the music come through. “I take myself out of it. I stay in my lane and let the music be everything. The music is what matters.”
Asked about composing, he said, “I compose all the time.”
His creative process bears out his philosophy of humility. The way he works creatively became clear to him when First United Methodist Church asked him to compose music for certain of their observances. “I wasn’t up on the liturgy,” he said. “I went home and prayed and went on faith. It was for an Easter service. And it came to me; I heard it complete, in my head. It was just out of my reach – there were so many fingerings.” He hears a new composition whole, in his head, and then must work to get it into a piece of music. Creating music is endlessly enjoyable for him. “All the human emotions – I’m like a channel.”
Making the point about getting himself out of the way and letting the music come through, he quotes the record producer Quincy Jones. “You always leave room for God to walk through.
And the straw hat?
His grandmother and grandfather Kitter were singers. His grandmother sang with the Sweet Adelines, and she had an organ. His grandfather Lee Kitter sang with the Doctors of Harmony, a barbershop quartet that won an international contest in 1947. The quartet dressed in light colored suits and straw hats. Quite formal. The grandparents had 7 children and so grandfather got a job at Bendix to support the family. But he said often, “Do what you love and you’ll never work a day in your life.”
Grandpa Kitter gave up his music. But following his advice causes Mike to love being alive, love being human. “I put tranquility, peace of mind, and joy into everything I do.”
