Leonardo Pavkovic: Nothing is Ordinary

More than any other person, Leonardo Pavkovic has made me write some crazy shit.

Pavkovic is the primal force behind the joyously eclectic MoonJune Records, which he established in 2001. "Established" may not be the right word: "I am truly an unusual and rules breaking call-it-record-company with a 'label' identity despite the fact that as a person and as a 'label' I go out of any categorization and labeling of what I do," he confided before our interview. "I am a stubborn Don Quixotesque romantic warrior and one-man-band army wearing many hats." 

MoonJune's mission statement:  The ongoing goal of MoonJune is to support music that transcends stylistic pigeon-holing, but operates within an evolutionary progressive musical continuum that explores boundaries of jazz, rock, avant, ethno, the unknown and anything in between.  

Pavkovic was born in Bosnia in the former Yugoslavia in 1962. He was raised in southern Italy and studied Portuguese and Brazilian literature at the University of Bari (Italy) and Afro-Portuguese History and Literature at the University of Luanda (Angola, Africa) en route to becoming fluent in six languages. Before MoonJune, he translated artistic and scientific literature from/to Italian, Portuguese and Serbo-Croatian, and published two volumes of original poetry. Pavkovic established MoonJune Management and Booking, now MoonJune Music, in 2000, copping its name from "Moon in June," a Robert Wyatt tune on the third album by Soft Machine, one of his numerous prog-rock-jazz-fusion inspirations.

MoonJune Records is only part of Pavkovic's impressive music business reach. As a booking agent, he has coordinated more than 2,000 concerts in more than 50 countries worldwide. Even though MoonJune Records consumes a great deal of his energy and time, he still does not consider it his "main business"; instead, it's just one more chapter in his lifelong diary of musical surprises.

MoonJune Music is the musical equivalent of Forrest Gump's proverbial box of chocolates. You never know what you're going to get: An improvisational jazz-rock quintet built around guitar, trumpet, and bass clarinet, named for a North Korean dictator and the martial arts style instructed by Grandmaster "Iron" Kim (Iron Kim Style, 2010); jazz-rock ensemble fusion led by Israel's version of Walter Becker and Donald Fagen (Breaking the Cycle, Marbin, 2011); or ancient Indonesian temple ritual music and traditional gamelan percussion employed as rhythmic loops upon which jazz players can solo almost forever (Demi Masa, simakDialog, 2009), to name just a few of its far-reaching flavors.

Consequently, MoonJune Record reviews seriously stretch a writer's analytic and descriptive faculties, not to mention ears—this writer's, at least.

In late 2017, Pavkovic assembled the twenty-five track compilation It Must Be Jazz to celebrate the label's fourth-place finish in DownBeat's annual "Best Jazz Label" poll (up from seventh place in 2016) and released it as a free digital download to thank the label's fans. Its title track was jointly composed by guitarist Allan Holdsworth, keyboardist Alan Pasqua, bassist Jimmy Haslip and drummer Chad Wackerman for Blues for Tony, their 2010 ensemble tribute to powerhouse jazz-rock drummer Tony Williams who passed away in 1997. This high-voltage piece of electric jazz-rock fusion was born from sentiment and experience: Holdsworth replaced John McLaughlin for a year as the Tony Williams Lifetime guitarist, and both Holdsworth and Pasqua were members of The New Tony Williams Lifetime.

This Might Be Jazz opens just as majestically, with the title track to Indonesian pianist Dwiki Dharmawan's landmark Pasar Klewer, regarded one of the top jazz albums of 2016. Dharmawan's playing, especially when accompanied by just bass and drums, sounds absolutely ferocious as it splatters chords and rhythms all over the ivories, mixing up mainstream, free and avant-garde jazz piano. "Indonesia is the place of 'ultimate diversity,'" the pianist explained upon Pasar Klewer's release. "Here, the urban cultures accelerate the 'acculturation' process, which generates changes in cultural patterns and creates new forms of musical expression. Pasar Klewer is the answer to my search for 'the difference,' and also a valuable answer to our modern crises and urban uprooting. The album's distinctive sound originates from an ancient Gamelan tonal system called Salendro, known in the Karawitan traditional music of the Sundanese, Javanese and Balinese."

Pavkovic's uncompromising and knowledgeable devotion to music has earned in return the same affection from MoonJune's musicians. "Leonardo's perspective on music has served to encourage and inspire musicians throughout Indonesia to create the music on a higher level," explains Ligro guitarist Agam Hamzah. "MoonJune Records has been great in its impact, helping to orchestrate so many positive changes for the benefit of the Indonesian music scene and its artists. Being associated with Leonardo and MoonJune Records as a musician and as a friend is an honor and a privilege."

"Like its namesake orb, MoonJune steadily casts its light across a commercially ravaged musical landscape without ever capitulating to the market, a rare paragon of musical virtue in ever more culturally bankrupt times," suggests guitarist Dennis Rea (Moraine, Iron Kim Style, Zhongyu).

"Because his vision and erudition know no physical or mental boundaries, MoonJune might seem an oddity founded by a starry-eyed idealist, a rather utopian proposition in our increasingly prefab musical world," muses guitarist Michel Delville (The Wrong Object, Machine Mass, DouBt). "But, to me, MoonJune is not just a record label pushing out alternative music. It feels more like a family of like-minded musicians keen to explore new grounds while collaborating with each other and engaging in a dialogue between the past and the present."

How enthusiastic is Pavkovic about music and MoonJune? After we finalized the following 12,000 word interview, he mused, "It's a bit LONG, but I have so much to say and what I said is only 1.75% of what I would be able to say." Leonardo Pavkovic exemplifies a profoundly personal yet widely public relationship with music. It's hard to imagine how the future of this music could be in more caring, capable hands than his.

All About Jazz: Where's the best place to begin the MoonJune story? 

Leonardo Pavkovic: When I first started the label, I had no background in the music business whatsoever. After I moved from Italy to New York City in August 1990, I met the renowned Brazilian graphic artist and photographer Fernando Natalici, who created the legendary "Studio T" graphic design studio in the mid '70s. Studio T was almost a cult phenomenon in downtown Manhattan. Fernando himself was a living encyclopedia of virtually everything that happened in the New York music scene during the 1970's and '80's, and soon we became inseparable friends. (Later, I became his business partner). Studio T was known for its large clientele in the city's music business community, so I was always in the company of great musicians, concert promoters, and record labels owners and executives, from majors and from independents.

In the early 2000s, I was briefly involved with the NYC-based label Jazz Magnet Records through a jazz publicist and music industry veteran, the legendary Jim Eigo. This experience was both inspiring and beneficial. Motivated by that experience, I decided to start my own record label and released my first album, a live recording of the legendary saxophonist Elton Dean, who I'd known since the mid '80's, while I was living in Italy. Two other live albums of young Italian progressive rock bands quickly followed: Finisterre's Storybook and D.F.A.'s Work In Progress Live.

AAJ: You had to know that yours wasn't the typical music industry startup story?

LP: Normally, labels will start like this: They have some capital in the bank or some wealthy business partners, they have an entertainment lawyer, they have an accountant, they have a marketing plan, they have a distribution company. I didn't have any of this. I only had some basic disposable income, which allowed me to pay some advances and cover CD manufacturing, and a lot of contacts (also thanks to Jim Eigo).

I "debuted" as a label at the progressive rock festival NEARFest in June 2001, where I had discovered D.F.A. the year before. I learned immediately that I was a "Mr. Nobody," which motivated me to promote my label ferociously.

In a matter of months, I developed an immense array of press contacts in both the jazz and progressive rock worlds. To capitalize on these new resources, I sent out hundreds upon hundreds of promos of my first three releases, to generate attention for both the albums and my newly budding company. All three albums received a great deal of critical acclaim and generated hundreds of reviews in more than thirty countries—especially D.F.A.'s brilliant live album, which received an extraordinary amount of accolades, and from critics beyond just the progressive rock world.

AAJ: People almost always assume that musicians are expressing themselves through their recordings. But can record label owners and producers express themselves through their work, too?

LP: I've always considered life as a sort of improvisation. Life is like that famous collaboration between John Coltrane and Rashied Ali—where Rashied Ali represents the beat of life in his drumming, and John Coltrane improvises on top of it (Ed. Note: "Interstellar Space," 1974, on Impulse!). That's primarily how I operate in life: I started with that sort of "organic" mentality. I never thought, "I will start a record label." Or, "I will get involved in music management or become a booking agent." MoonJune came into being from me simply helping friends, and managing to find my way through this initial phase—with some surprisingly good luck, and a strong dose of magic. I am a person who has doggedly pursued my passions my entire life; perhaps this small-scale launch's success had as much to do with hard work and determination as anything else, really.

AAJ: When did you begin to see the first returns on this hard work?

LP: In 2000, I had this crazy idea to help my old friend Elton Dean, to sort of reform or resurrect the legendary Soft Machine based, in large part, on information I found on the internet about a "one-off" show of the Soft Ware project featuring Elton on sax, Keith Tippett on piano, Hugh Hopper on bass guitar and John Marshall on drums.

So I reconnected with Elton on New Year's Day, 2000, and in June of that year he performed in New York City at a jazz festival with drummer Joe Gallivan, bassist Marcio Mattos and saxophonist Evan Parker. Elton stayed a few extra days at my place in the East Village, and he also met Jim Eigo. Perhaps acting on the good vibes of the situation, Elton asked Jim and me if we would be willing to help him with Soft Ware in the US. Elton asked me to talk to Keith Tippett, John Marshall, and Hugh Hopper, who I already knew from his visits to New York. They were all available and excited, except for Keith, who said he would consider it as a possible, occasional special project but not as a steady gig.

Keith's failure to make a solid commitment got Elton and I fantasizing about the fourth member. Mike Ratledge, the legendary Soft Machine keyboardist and one of my all-time personal music heroes, had made it clear that he wasn't interested in being a part of any recording or live performance music since leaving Soft Machine in 1976. We continued our thinking, dominated by a keyboard player to fill the fourth member role.

Later that same summer, I stumbled across three progressive rock festivals in the US. Around this same time, Andrea Soncini, an Italian journalist who handled the Italian progressive rock band Finisterre on his label and management and had been asking me to help get them bookings in the US, was supposed to meet me at one of these festivals. As it turned out, Andrea was unable to attend, due to personal reasons, and gave me his festival ticket. On that festival's opening day, the second band who hit the stage blew me away after only five minutes and in the break following their set, I met that band, D.F.A. from Italy, and congratulated them on their mind-blowing performance. Italian is my second native tongue, and we quickly fell into great conversation and friendship. We hung out together in New York City for several days thereafter.

AAJ: So that's festival one. Festival two?

LP: OK, so in September 2000 I attended ProgFest in Los Angeles, and got to catch up with several of my favorite 70s progressive rock bands: Italian legends Banco, French legends Mona Lisa, and Dutch legends Supersister, an old favorite of mine who I never thought in my whole life I would be able to see! Since we were in L.A., many progressive rock fans came to the festival from Mexico, and, out of curiosity, I began chatting with many of them.

I met another person at this festival who wound up being one of the key people in starting MoonJune. A guy who happened to be passing by suddenly entered into a conversation I was having with a few early Soft Machine hardcore fans. I guess we were talking loudly and proudly about Mike Ratledge, and that's how I met Ken Kubernik, who jumped right into our conversation. Ken and I went for a coffee break during another intermission and began talking about several of our favorite music subjects, such as Soft Machine, the Canterbury scene, British jazz, and much more, and during our conversation, I told him about Elton Dean, Soft Ware and Keith Tippett situation. Little did I know the fruit that this conversation would later bear!

AAJ: So where did this story move to next?

LP: In October, I flew to North Carolina to attend the third prog festival of 2000, ProgDay, and had by this time also made plans to attend BajaProg festival in February 2001, in Mexicali. Through all this time, I continued to correspond with the aforementioned Andrea Soncini, and since I had made a number of contacts from Mexico at ProgFest, in LA, I decided to try to book Finisterre—and actually succeeded! I booked them at BajaProg 2001 in Mexicali, for another big gig opening for the British prog icon Peter Hammill in Mexico City, and for six more shows in Central and Northern Mexico.

So: I had never been to Mexico before. I had never met Andrea Soncini nor had I met the band Finisterre in person before. But thanks to a few guys I met at ProgFest in L.A., I booked Finisterre in Mexico. Thereafter, I negotiated their gigs, arranged and purchased their flights, and the rest. That was the first tour I handled in my life, and that's how MoonJune Music, my booking business, started.

AAJ: When and how did MoonJune Records follow?

LP: In the meantime, Elton Dean was asking me to help him with a live recording, a duet with the English midi guitarist Mark Hewins who I also knew from his association with the reformed Daevid Allen's Gong. D.F.A. had just sent me the live recording of the fabulous performance I'd witnessed at NEARFest 2000. In April 2001, I made the decision to release those three live albums together, and that's how MoonJune Records started!

So, in May of 2001, I had three releases on MoonJune: Dean/Hewins Bar Torque, Finsiterre Storybook and D.F.A. Work In Progress Live. That summer, I decided to go to NEARFest 2001. I rented a merchandise table on a whim and, accompanied by the curious 17-year-old nephew of a friend as my helper, MoonJune Records officially became a label!

AAJ: So how or where do the Soft Machine variations come back in?

LP: At this festival, I ran into many friends I had made at some of the festivals I mentioned from the year before. One was a friend from Japan, Tatsurou Ueda, and we started talking. I asked him pretty casually, "Hey, is Soft Machine popular in Japan?" He said they were, so I shared with him that story of Elton Dean, Soft Ware, and my dream and Elton's dream to reform Soft Machine or a sort of Soft Machine. It's hard to believe, but he informed me that he had a very close friend who was a major player in the Japanese music business market, and that he would introduce me to him.

He went back to Japan and then a few weeks later I received an eMail from Tatsurou, introducing me to Masa Matsuzaki. I will never forget his eMail: "My name is Masa Matsuzaki, my company is interested in Soft Machine reunion. If you can make it possible, my company will arrange a deal with Universal Japan, and give you big advances. Well, I was very excited, and so I contacted Elton, even though we still hadn't recruited the fourth band member yet. Keith Tippett still wasn't interested, but Hugh Hopper and John Marshall certainly were.

The following month, July 2001, I met Ken Kubernik back in LA. When I explained the situation, he immediately became excited and suggested that he could contact his old friend in London, Dave Stewart. When I suggested Dave Stewart to the other three, John Marshall, who was mainly a jazz drummer, wasn't very familiar with Dave or his playing. But Dave Stewart was "persona non-grata" with both Hugh and Elton. It is one of those things that only musicians know—or don't know, maybe—why they dislike or hate each other. But we were left still searching for the elusive fourth member to round out the group.

That November, I met Ken in LA yet again. Smiling from ear to ear, he gloriously announced: "The next time you are in LA, I will drive you to San Juan Capistrano and will introduce you to the greatest guitarist who ever walked the Planet Earth!" I answered, "You mean, I will meet the mighty Allan Holdsworth, one of the all-time greatest heroes of mine?" Ken answered, "Yes, sir—and THAT will be the most amazing Soft Machine reunion humanly possible!" So as soon as I got back to New York, I phoned all three. Hugh Hopper was evidently very excited: "Holy Cow! Allan Holdsworth! YES, I want to play with Allan Holdsworth ... he is a genius, I always dreamed of playing with Allan Holdsworth!" Hugh and Elton had never played with Allan before, but John and Allan had a history together in Soft Machine and several jazz projects, back in the '70's.

So, in January 2002, I found myself back in LA, and Ken drove me down to San Juan Capistrano, where I met the mighty Allan Holdsworth. I immediately liked Allan's vibe, and he liked mine. It was our first personal encounter, even though I had seen him perform so many times before, and after about ten minutes of chit-chat and quality draft ale, I asked this mighty, gnarly geezer: "Allan, would you like to join Soft Ware, the Soft Machine reunion, with Elton Dean, Hugh Hopper and John Marshall?" Quickly, he responded: "You mean John fucking Marshall? THE fucking John Marshall, one of the greatest drummers in the world? Oh yeah, I want to play again with my old buddy, the great John fucking Marshall!" So, we toasted to each other and shook hands! I really didn't have any idea what I was doing, really. Again, it was my "improvisational spirit" driving me to something that would change my life forever.

AAJ: That is an amazing story of persistence and dedication. It worked out well?

LP: You have to know about Soft Machine and be a fan of this seminal band to understand the dynamics and excitement that propelled our conversation. We had, in hand, four former members of the band, representing different periods of the band between 1969 and 1975. After talking to just a few people and several journalist friends, we realized that this would be something more than merely "special." And after some brainstorming, we decided that the name "Soft Ware" should be changed to "Soft Works." I immediately communicated our good news to the three musicians in London, who were all very excited. John Marshall actually phoned Allan, and the two spoke for a really long time.

I was already thinking ahead and eMailed Masa Matsuzaki in Tokyo. In a matter of only 15 minutes, I received an eMail screaming with excitement: "PLEASE, PLEASE, MAKE IT POSSIBLE!" A few days later, we received an official offer of a $50,000 record advance, with an additional sum available for a potential live record from Japan whenever the band was ready to tour there. Ken and I quickly formed a small joint company in LA and in a matter of weeks received half of the advances. What a deal! We had funds before the band rehearsed one single minute, played one single minute or even met, because three gentlemen lived in London and one in Southern California! We flew to London in June 2002 to record the album Abracadabra.

So "in a few words," that's how I started both MoonJune Records and my main business, MoonJune Music Bookings, which covers my bookings, management and general schmoozing and dealing in the music business around the globe. Once the Soft Works album was recorded, it was licensed to Universal Japan, to Mascote Provogue in Europe, and to Shrapnel Records in the US. The band played its debut gig at "The Progman Cometh" Festival, in Seattle, August 2002. They toured Japan a year later; toured Italy in January and February 2004; and played their last show at BajaProg, in Mexicali, Mexico, in March of 2004. In the meantime, I toured Japan, South and Central America with PFM in 2002, and that's how I became a tour manager!

As is the case with most everything I've done in my life, nothing can really be explained fully in just a few words or a few sentences. What happen with Soft Works, which became Soft Machine Legacy and how I started working with Allan Holdsworth, is a huge chapter in my life. And how I started being a label, booking rep, tour manager—it simply cannot be explained in a few sentences, paragraphs or pages. It's more like a book, and a thick one. My life has been filled with magical and completely unpredictable moments!

AAJ: You have literally seen, and recorded, performers from all around the world. Who are some of the artists you've seen perform the most?

LP: I was very lucky to see so many shows: first as a fan, then working with musicians and booking their gigs. Booking some of my heroes was both satisfying and fun. I actually counted all the Allan Holdsworth shows I saw, and saw him perform 245 shows.

A few years ago, I took over booking duties for Tony Levin's Stick Men with Pat Mastelotto and Markus Reuter, so I've seen them close to 100 times. I saw many shows by Soft Machine Legacy. I saw the Italian prog legends PFM a lot as well. Among individual musicians—besides Allan Holdsworth and Tony Levin, whom I have seen perform live almost 150 times across many bands and projects—the musicians I've seen the most are probably Jimmy Haslip, Gary Husband, Chad Wackerman, Jimmy Johnson, Markus Reuter, Pat Mastelotto, and Scott Henderson. That's one of the best parts of working as a booking rep: In the course of working with these great musicians, more often than not, they wind up becoming my friends. Most everything that I have done has arisen from necessity, to help friends.

AAJ: What's the difference between a good performer and great performer?

LP: It's all relative, I believe. I was just talking to a friend of mine, a fairly well-known musician, who said that sometimes he does amazing shows then reads a review and the reviewer said the show sucked, and vice versa. This is a very relative thing. Take Allan Holdsworth: He almost always complained about how he didn't perform well, when, in reality, his performances were often quite brilliant. It's very subjective. What does "a great show" mean? It's very difficult to say. To me, a great performer is the one I liked and enjoyed during his performance. Basically, that's it. We all have different perspectives. Sometimes I can feel that a performance was not very good, but another person may think it's the best show they ever saw. Musical performances are a personal experience for each listener, and everyone's tastes and evaluations are different.

Of course, certain performances suck. In recent years it has been painful to watch one of my all-time favorite progressive bands, Yes. I will not comment further other than to say that, for me, it's sad. Even so, many YES fans believe they remain an incredible, great group. Music is truly a most subjective art.

AAJ: You have obviously listened to a great deal of music. Did this enable you to use any other record labels as a model or guide for MoonJune, and if so what were they?

LP: No. I really never tried to model MoonJune after any other label. ECM probably ranks as my all-time favorite record label, and a major inspiration. There are others that I like, but each circumstance is different. I could not possibly compare myself to ECM: When I started I didn't have any infrastructure, any distribution, I didn't have anywhere close to the necessary capital to launch a real label. Honestly, I didn't even have any long-term plans. I just started releasing records in 2001, and suddenly became a label, without realizing at the full extent what that rally means. Once again, that live musical dialogue between John Coltrane and Rashied Ali is relevant here: It's all improvisation.

In retrospect, and to be completely candid, I'm not sure I ever had any model or guide in my life for anything! My life was always about improvisation, survival, pursuing my passions, and navigating "on the fly." I was mostly doing bookings, and the label was a side business. I released only a small handful of albums between 2003 and 2006, and wasn't even sure if I would continue. In 2004, I even thought about moving to Singapore in 2004, but I opted to stay in NYC.

AAJ: Have you ever explored the financial practicality of merging with another independent or a similar type arrangement?

LP: In 2006, I was approached by a major independent record company run by a good friend and music business veteran, Bill Hein. An offer was made for MoonJune Records to become an associate label, distributed, marketed and promoted by Rykodisk through a three-pronged line of products: MoonJune productions, Allan Holdsworth's back catalog and new releases, and progressive rock legends Nektar's back catalog. I saw this as a giant opportunity, and Bill Hein really liked my passion for music and my unusual way of thinking.

Unfortunately, these big plans got put on hold. Bill Hein left for a larger label—EMI—but promised that EMI would put together any even bigger, more lucrative deal. It wasn't until August of 2007, when I became aware of the impending purchase of EMI by the multinational corporation Terra Firma, that I realized this deal was never going to happen. It was not only a shock but a kind of epiphany: My destiny, and that of MoonJune Records, laid in being fully and truly independent.

AAJ: If it's all improvisation, is it all jazz?

LP: That's why I called my latest compilation It Must Be Jazz. In the light, it's really all jazz. Even music that is nearly impossible to categorize—our MoonJune specialty—is really all jazz in spirit, and all improvisation. So, you are correct.

While I was living in New York in the 1990's, I was privileged to meet Hamiet Bluiett. He used to do recording sessions and when producers would ask him if he could do another take of a song he'd say, "I can do another take, but it's not going to be "another take;" it's going to be another tune, entirely, because I don't know what I'm going to play." He always said, "Whatever I play, that's it." The same thing holds true for me.

AAJ: In a catalog full of instrumental and improved music, how did you determine what music to leave OFF that compilation?

LP: That was actually sort of an improvisation, too. When I promote my albums, I reach out to so many different people: people in jazz, progressive rock, fusion, in classic rock, all kinds of music. Many times—especially when I deal with progressive rock halls—I hear people say, "Music from MoonJune is fusion or "It's jazzy or it's this or it's that..." So I thought about it, and, yeah, I'm not a real jazz label, but actually I am. If that makes any sense. That's how I decided to make this sampler.

I grew up listening to a great diversity of music and never divided music into jazz or blues, or rock, progressive or fusion. I did not feel the need to categorize or "pigeonhole" artists or their music. I listened for the sheer love of music. When I was a teenager, I bought albums by Ravi Shankar, Black Sabbath, Sun Ra, Neil Young, Jethro Tull, Paco de Lucia, Ella Fitzgerald, Lucio Dalla, James Last, Ian Dury, and John Lee Hooker. That much variety. For me, it was simply about embracing the music that I liked, music that touched me on an emotional level. Of course, I knew that certain music was rock and other music was blues or jazz, but to me labels were not important. It was all music. After hearing thousands and thousands of albums over the last forty-plus years, I realized that a significant ingredient of many albums was certain characteristics and/or elements of jazz—and that this was true of my label, too.

I have a couple of albums on my label that would be considered "jazz" if you were to talk to someone at a jazz conservatory, a purist. I do have a lot of other jazz, so why not put together a compilation, promote that compilation, and fans can download this music and listen to different kinds of jazz?

The It Must Be Jazz compilation provides around three hours of music, and the song lineup works nicely, I think. Some tunes are more "jazzy," other tunes are less so, but it's all jazz in the end. The name comes from a tune on one of my albums composed collectively by Allan Holdsworth, Alan Pasqua, Jimmy Haslip and Chad Wackerman, for their album, Blues for Tony. I named the compilation It Must Be Jazz because, no matter what, it must be jazz.

AAJ: Your catalog features so many different guitarists. What do you like about the sound of the guitar and do you play guitar?

LP: No, I don't play any instrument. Zero. Of course, when I was a teenager, I fantasized about playing instruments, especially while I was listening to music. I didn't fantasize about any particular instrument, frankly, but about all instruments. When I was seventeen or eighteen, like many teenagers, I guess, I'd be listening to tunes and imitating Jimi Hendrix or John Bonham, or Keith Emerson or Jack Bruce, or another one of my heroes, playing air instruments!

Once I read an interview with Frank Zappa where he was asked, "What type of music do you listen to now? What have you been listening to recently?" His reply was that he didn't listen to music by other people because he had his own.

I am completely opposite. I don't have my own music, which is why I listen to so much music. I am all the time listening to music. The time that musicians spend doing a soundcheck or a rehearsal, then playing the show, and touring...I'm listening to so much different music, all the time, in different situations and settings. Ironic as it sounds, the thing that many of the busiest musicians do not have much time for is listening to music!

I don't play an instrument, and I actually think that's a big advantage for me; being a non-musician gives me much more time to listen and enjoy a variety of music. Musicians have to work their craft: They either compose their own music or learn music by others; they have to tour, which means regular soundchecks and rehearsals, playing live shows, travel, and preparations. That essentially means these musicians are always playing the same music. But me, I can invest that same amount of time to listening. If I was a musician, I would undoubtedly have far less time to digest new music, investigate new or emerging talents, and propel the label.

While my label features a few all-time legends of guitar, it's only their partial discographies. That said, I am very proud to have names of the incomparable Allan Holdsworth and the amazing John Etheridge among MoonJune's releases.

AAJ: Would you please share some impressions of Allan Holdsworth?

LP: Allan Holdsworth was a big part of my life between 2002 and 2017. He was beyond being a unique person. He was genuinely a self-tortured genius. We had a truly special relationship that was unfortunately spoiled in the last twelve months of his life by some negative forces and people who didn't understand what Allan was about at all. Many would claim they knew him, but I was the one who actually knew him very well. I was part of his life for fifteen years. I was often his best friend, his counselor, shoulder to cry on, personal financier, moral supporter, and I worked very hard to provide him with a lot of work. I never saw Allan as a "guitar hero" or "guitar god," maybe for no other reason than the fact that I am not musician. On the contrary, I always saw Allan simply as a human being, a beautiful person who wrestled with so many personal problems and demons.

Ultimately, his internal struggle proved to be his downfall. For more than a decade before his ultimate demise, "consumption" had displaced any real desire for production, I believe. I was heartbroken by what transpired in the months immediately preceding his death, and heartbroken when I heard of his death. We hadn't spoken for almost eight months, and he reached out to me one day before his passing. I planned to visit him secretly to clarify misunderstandings and obstructions which were, unfortunately, created by others.

AAJ: Indonesia has proven to be fertile ground for MoonJune, with such artists as Dewa Budjana, Dwiki Dharmawan, Tohpati and simakDialog. How did you find yourself and this music in Indonesia?

LP: This is a long story, but a quite interesting one, so I'll tell you. I was a big fan of Deep Purple; they're still one of my all-time favorite bands. While I was living in Italy, a friend of a friend of mine wrote a book about Deep Purple. I was also learning about Deep Purple through books and magazines (This was in the 1970's and early '80's). In one of the chapters in the book by my Italian writer friend, he revealed that in 1975 Deep Purple played one show in Jakarta, Indonesia, after their Japanese tour—information which I also later found in other music magazines. This was their "Mark 4" lineup, with Tommy Bolin and Glenn Hughes, after Ritchie Blackmore quit the band. This made Deep Purple the first major western band to ever play in Indonesia. They played at a stadium with a 75,000-seat capacity, but the concert drew more than 100,000 people! Unfortunately, as it turned out, there were also some major problems: a few fans in attendance actually died, and there were some issues with the local authorities because the promoter had provided girls for the musicians. It was all about "rock 'n' roll"—don't forget that this was 1976, you know? An Indonesian band called God Bless opened for Deep Purple. I was very curious about Indonesian bands, because in those days I knew of a couple of Asian bands, especially one Vietnamese band based in France called Taï Phong, a progressive '70s rock band. And I already knew some Japanese jazz and fusion artists, like Hiroshima, Ryo Kawasaki, Terumasa Hino, and Casiopea. And I am a curious person by nature, so I wanted to know more. But of course, those days weren't like today, and getting information from distant countries was challenging.

A few years later, I went into a record shop in Rome and bought maybe twenty LPs. One of the things I found was a cassette of an Indonesian progressive jazz fusion band from the '70's, called Guruh Gypsy. I talked to a clerk working in the store and told him the story about Deep Purple (which, as it turned out, he already knew). I had no expectations when purchasing that cassette tape. I didn't know the music. I guess the record store employee didn't know the music on that cassette, either. But when I got home the next day, that music simply blew my mind! Their music was exceptional.

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