The core of any musically solid band is the rhythm section: drums and bass. The musicians work to build a foundation supporting the melodies that dance on top. They must lock into the same groove and communicate, often just with their eyes or a nod, when to pick up or slow down the tempo.
Matt O’Brian and his brother Chris don’t even need a glance, though.
“We very naturally find the same groove as a rhythm section,” Chris said as the pair tinkered at an attic practice space in Beechwood.
That’s important considering how heavily their band, Flying Object, relies on rhythm. Matt’s earthy, soulful compositions require steady beats, provided happily by Chris. After performing together for more than 25 years, staying in rhythm is second nature.
“The way we’re pushing and pulling a tempo, I don’t have to look over,” Matt said. “He knows if I am trying to lay it back, or if it feels like I’m a little ahead, maybe to come up and be a little ahead with me.”
The O’Brians are far from the only musical siblings in Rochester. Austin, Brendan and Trevor Lake make up the surf band Televisionaries, and the Regan brothers anchor folk group Watkins and the Rapiers. But their kismet is unique for how far it’s taken them — and now, decades into their relationship, how it keeps them grounded.
FAMILY TIES
As kids in the early 2000s, the O’Brians grew up surrounded by instruments. Before long, with Chris as drummer and Matt playing guitar, they started up a group with their friend James Searl on bass. By 2006, that band — Giant Panda Guerilla Dub Squad — had become nationally rising stars fusing dub, jam and roots music.
They remain one of the region’s key musical exports and fixtures at the annual Finger Lakes GrassRoots Festival of Music & Dance in Trumansburg — even without Matt, who left the band in 2010.
He subsequently began a new group, Thunder Body, where he switched from guitar to drums. His journey as a bass player began later, during the pandemic, when he and Chris met up for low-stakes morning jams with some friends.
Flying Object was born. But so was a new chapter in the musical story of the O’Brians.
“We did the super intense hardcore band thing for a decade,” Chris said. “Now, not only do we know how to do it without too much effort, but we’re playing with guys that are so fun and so amazing at their instruments.”
That crew includes keyboardist Elliot Schwartzman and guitarists Mike Martinez and Max Flansburg, who also plays in bluegrass group Dirty Blanket.
This time around, things are more chill.
“When I’m up playing drums with Flying Object, I’m literally ear to ear grinning,” Chris said.
They’re serious about it, Matt added, but he’s made sure to prioritize good vibes as much as good music.
“Why would anyone want to do it again unless it’s going to be as fun and smooth as possible?” he said. “The Panda thing, I was a lunatic about being serious about it. This band is, stylistically, what comes naturally to us. This is the kind of music we would want to be playing together, which makes it easy for brothers.”
That healthy balance bears out in Flying Object’s songs. The laid-back, twangy sonics of “Flat Earth” contrast Matt’s funny, slyly barbed lyrical observations: My good friend told me that the Earth is flat / I don’t really know about that. On the group’s latest single, “AI Needs More Water,” the band peps up to take aim at big tech depleting natural resources. (“We can’t start giving robots the basic life necessity stuff!” Matt said of the song.)
It also manifests in the relationship between the O’Brians as brothers. They don’t agree on ascendant indie-rock sensation MJ Lenderman: Chris is “obsessed” while Matt “can’t get through the record.” But they know the ins and outs of each other’s musical minds.
“We have very similar taste in how music should sound or what we would do,” Matt said, evoking a Venn diagram. “But the point in the middle where the two circles meet, of music that we both actually listen to on purpose, is very small.”
On stage, those distinctions go away. For New Year’s Eve, Giant Panda, Flying Object and Dirty Blanket all shared a bill at Anthology, marking a real musical family affair that extended to the audience as well.
“It was cheesy how epic it was for us,” Chris said. Matt called it “the best era for the scene feeling like a scene.”
AN ONGOING PARTNERSHIP
For proof that the concept of musical family extends well past blood ties, consider Juliana Athayde and Erik Behr. The married couple performs on stage as well, though it’s a much different stage. Athayde is concertmaster for the Rochester Philharmonic Orchestra, and Behr is principal oboe.
They’re also co-artistic directors for the Society for Chamber Music in Rochester; they program unique events that bring together musicians from both the RPO and the Eastman School of Music. It can be hard to get together to talk about and plan those concerts. Luckily they know where to find each other.
“The creative process is fun when you’re married because you could be washing the dishes [and] you can shout down the hall, ‘OK, how about we do this?’” Behr said, seated in an ornate room inside Eastman Theatre.
Or they could be in the car listening to a classical radio station and hear a piece that intrigues them. The planning begins right there — no need to find time on each other’s calendars.
“Our predecessors were two colleagues who talked about setting aside time to meet and talk about artistic plans for upcoming seasons, and I think ours is just rolling all the time,” Athayde said. “‘We got the kids to bed, so let’s sit down and talk about some programming.’”
As RPO musicians, they’re on stage at the same time. But as co-artistic directors of SCRM, Athayde and Behr enjoy switching off performance duties. Athayde recently played with vocalists Nicole Cabell and Joshua Conyers while Behr worked behind the scenes — reserving rehearsal spaces, sending emails and organizing the logistics.
He’ll get his turn. In April, SCRM presents an afternoon of “Gloriously Degenerate Wind Music,” a program featuring, among other pieces, works by German-Jewish composers Joseph Horovitz and Robert Kahn, whose compositions were deemed “degenerate music” by the Nazis.
Behr will perform alongside piano, horn and clarinet; Athayde, meanwhile, will handle the admin duties. That includes the domestic tasks, too.
“At home, it’s nice if one of us is having a really heavy performing week with RPO and Chamber Music, the other one can feed the children and take out the trash,” Behr said.
The Chamber Music concerts likewise keep the art in the family, so to speak. Organizational silos in the classic music strata often prevent the union of RPO and Eastman musicians. But SCMR aims to keep its focus on local performers.
“There isn’t another place where you can hear that,” Athayde said. “We get emails all the time from agents and groups saying, ‘we’d love to come play on your series.’ Sorry, we’re not that kind of thing. We’re sort of mom and pop.”
Artistic partnerships thrive on both routine and surprises. If there’s nothing new, the relationship can’t grow, but the foundation — much like a rhythm section — must be solid.
Back in the attic space, Matt O’Brian asked his brother Chris if he’s heard the song “Space and Time,” a slow-burning stunner by Americana singer S.G. Goodman. Chris hadn’t.
But a minute later, the pair began jamming on it. Matt called out changes as he sang and strummed an old nylon-string guitar while Chris laid down a splashy but subtle backbeat.
It sounded gentle yet charismatic, like they’ve been doing it for decades. They have.
“It’s come full circle back to the casual,” Chris said. “Playing with Matt comes naturally, and in my mind, I’m still along for the ride with my musician older brother.”
