Longboat: Igor Keller on 34 Albums and Creative Freedom

For more than a decade, Longboat has functioned as both archive and laboratory — a space where ideas are tested, reshaped, and released. Led by Seattle-based musician Igor Keller, the project began in 2011 as a single album experiment and quietly expanded into one of the most prolific and singular catalogs in independent music.

Longboat has been your creative vehicle for many years now. How did the project first come together, and what did you want it to represent when you started?

Way back in 2011, I had an idea to write an album about Seattle, its neighborhoods and suburbs. I had previously been a jazz sax player and my relationship with pop music was nonexistent. I didn’t even listen to the radio. I was originally planning just to make this one album and then return to the remnants of the jazz community, but the process to complete this album was so positive that I resolved to make it a regular thing.

Why did you choose the name Longboat for this project? What does it symbolize for you creatively or personally?

Longboat’s been the band name since 2011 through 34 albums so far. I wanted to write a wide-ranging variety of music and I realized very early on that if I took people along on this journey, I’d need a pretty big boat, hence the name. And after 34 albums, the journey continues. There’s still room in the boat.

Since 2011, you’ve released as many albums as you could afford. What has working without industry expectations taught you about freedom and limitation?

Operating without a significant fan base is both frustrating and liberating. On the one hand, creating and recording the music for any given album is one of life’s greatest joys for me. But once that part is over, sharing that joy with some segment of the public is sometimes vexing. At this point, I write about whatever subject that crosses my mind. Since I don’t write love songs, that packs a lot of possibilities. Just thinking about what’s in store for Longboat’s future is quite exciting.

The Merry Blacksmith’s Song Bucket is a playful title for a complex record. What does the title represent, and how does it frame the way listeners should approach the album?

Well, I spend a fair amount of the year in the UK and the title is a nod to the nostalgic yesteryear culture that can be prevalent in some parts of the country. Of course, that’s where the nostalgia element ends. I recorded this album the week after Word Gets Around and it was always my intent to add a vocoder to some of the tracks. That imparts the songs with a different kind of retro feel.

The record leans more heavily into sci-fi than some of your past work. What does science fiction allow you to say here that realism does not?

We tend to encode our hopes and fears into science fiction. By now, these are fairly well-trod areas. I am more interested in exploring the more mysterious, intriguing and hilarious elements of the genre. Whatever we’re experiencing now as a society can be easily translated into science fiction. I’m just wondering why more people aren’t doing it.

You’ve mentioned a short-story approach to this project. Did you think of the album as a collection of scenes, or as one continuous narrative?

This album is composed of scenes and situations that are described, explored and left for the listener to evaluate. The continuous narratives are coming later this year. I recorded eight albums in 2025 and this is just the second to be released. There are many more subjects to be delved into over the next few years.

Were there moments during recording where the album surprised you or pushed back against your original plan?

Every time I record, there are a thousand little surprises, almost all of them pleasant. None of them ever works towards scrapping whatever I’d intended for any given tune or the album in general.

When you look toward the future, what kinds of sounds or tools are you curious about exploring next that you haven’t yet touched?

To confront the existential threat that AI poses to all creative ventures, I am now working up dozens of Longboat songs for the piano. When I’m in London, I circulate around my neighborhood’s pubs and beyond, hammering out the Longboat discography for unsuspecting patrons. The results have been overwhelmingly positive. My playing and singing aren’t always perfect, but I always sound like myself and always have fun. The same can’t be said about AI.

We know love songs aren’t part of your creative language. Do you see any circumstance or experience that could ever push you to write one?

No. Not because I’m obstinate for no apparent reason. It’s just that I have no insight. I cannot be as original as I am in other areas. The closest thing you’ll get is something like “Word Gets Around,” the title tune of my previous album. There are a lot of moving parts in that track: faded fame, an unforgiving public and an uncertain future. But beneath all of that is the strong relationship of two people. Speaking of piano takes, I have converted this tune into a ballad and it sounds really nice.