Rebecca and Aliayta Foon-Dancoes discuss their first collaborative album Reverie, recorded in rural Québec and released by Constellation Records in 2025.

Transmission 202: Interview with Rebecca and Aliayta Foon-Dancoes

Rebecca Foon and Aliayta Foon-Dancoes trace different routes through classical and experimental music. Reverie, their first full-length collaboration, was recorded in a converted barn in rural Quebec and released by Constellation in 2025. 

Title: Reverie
Artist: Aliayta Foon-Dancoes Rebecca Foon
Genres: Avant-garde, Experimental Music
Label: Constellation Records
Description: Rebecca and Aliayta Foon-Dancoes discuss their collaboration on Reverie, released by Constellation Records on April 25, 2025.

Rebecca Foon, based in Montréal, has been active in experimental and DIY music circles for over two decades. She is a founding member of the chamber-rock ensemble Esmerine and was previously involved in Thee Silver Mt. Zion and Set Fire To Flames. Alongside her work as a solo artist and environmental activist, she co-founded initiatives such as Pathway to Paris and Junglekeepers. Her projects frequently intersect environmental advocacy with music, photography, and collaborative performance.

Aliayta Foon-Dancoes is a violinist and composer currently pursuing a PhD in Composition at Princeton University. Her background includes chamber music fellowships in London at the Royal Academy and Royal College of Music, and collaborations with groups including the London Symphony Orchestra, TAK Ensemble, and SŌ Percussion. Her compositional work integrates acoustic performance with electronics, non-traditional tuning systems, and interdisciplinary forms.

When did music first become important to you?

Rebecca Foon
Well, for me, I was eight years old and I was lucky enough to be at a public school with a string program. Elliot and I don’t come from a musical family, and I saw the big kids playing cello and violin and viola and double bass. I remember that feeling of being eight years old, seeing a kid with a cello and falling in love with the cello and being like, I want to play that.

So I went home and told our dad, and he was like, there’s no way you’re playing the cello. Like, why would you do that? It’s so big—play violin.

And I was like, no, I want to play the cello. I was very lucky to get in the string program and start playing the cello. It wasn’t until high school that I started to discover improvisation, and that I was actually a bit more in love with improv and composing than I was with classical music, although I always loved classical music. But I was maybe better at improv and composing.

And from then, it was a journey. But Aliayta has a different story. She got involved way younger than me.

Aliayta Foon
I got involved younger because of my sister, because I heard the cello being played. I was totally in love with the sound of string instruments, but I also love high registers. So I had a slightly different musical path.

I did pursue classical music and still continue to, although now I exist more in a space of intersection between different disciplines. I was playing in symphony orchestras and string quartets and in the classical sphere full-time until just a couple of years ago.

Was there a specific moment that made you decide to make music seriously?

Rebecca Foon
Yeah, that’s a really interesting question, because the classical world in particular is so extremely competitive and so rigorous in terms of how good you have to be technically. I think we both had moments where we wanted to give up, and also moments where it was like, I’m so in love—this is my calling.

For me, I would say one of the moments was when I was doing a workshop with Yo-Yo Ma at the conservatory in Vancouver. Just having that opportunity to be close to him and really see how he was talking about music and creativity and energy and architecture—there was a moment of connection where I really just fell in love with the art of sound and cello and music. That was a real moment for me where I remember thinking, I think this is a path for me. What about you?

Aliayta Foon
Because of the kind of classical sphere that I grew up in, I always felt like I was just kind of in a boat on a river. I remember in high school, when all of my friends were trying to decide what they wanted to pursue in university and what interests they wanted to focus on, I felt so jealous, because it had always felt like destiny for me that I would play the violin.

The idea that you wouldn’t know what you would be doing—that you would just be curious and in a space of discovery and uncertainty—was really shocking and sparkly and exciting to me. Especially during the end of high school and the beginning of my more formal conservatory music education, I realized in a deep way that music for me is just like breathing. I feel the most at home when I’m playing the violin.

Although I don’t know that I come off this way all the time now, I think I’ve always felt very deeply awkward as a human and struggled to communicate what I’m thinking about. On the violin, I feel total ease and feel like I can say and communicate in the way that I want to. So I just feel so much like, without that instrument and without music, I don’t know who I would be. I can’t think of specific inciting moments, but I think of this continued and deepening relationship and space of exploration.

Did you grow up playing together, or did you follow separate paths at first?

Rebecca Foon
Yeah, we didn’t, because I moved out of the house when Aliayta was a baby. Then I moved across the country to Montreal, so we never really had the opportunity to play music when we were living at home.

But we’ve always been big fans of each other. Geographically, there’s always been a barrier—we’ve always been in different countries. When Aliayta left the house, she moved to the UK a few years later, and I was in North America. So there was always a geographical gap until recently, until the last few years.

COVID was actually our real first chance, where we had the time and the geographical ability to work together and compose. It was really interesting because, for me personally, I’ve played with a lot of string players and musicians over the years. And because Aliayta and I hadn’t really gone deep into music together before—composing and spending hours together in a room making music—what was really interesting for me was the psychic connection.

I have deep connections with lots of musicians, but I’d never really had the experience of—because I think Aliayta probably knows me best in this world, just because we’re so similar and like the same things—there was just something about playing music together and composing and improvising that I found really fascinating. I felt like she knew what I was going to play before I even played it. And when I was playing it, she understood it on such a deep level that I’d never felt before from anybody else.

It was trippy, and an honour, and also just very awe-inspiring to experience that kind of connection on a musical level. So it’s just an absolute joy, to be honest, to play with my sister.

How did the idea for Reverie first come about?

Aliayta Foon:
We had been speaking for a few years about wanting to play music together. But as Beck mentioned, it was always really challenging because we lived on different continents. I was in London, Becks was between New York and Montreal. Even just hanging out as sisters was hard, let alone trying to record an album.

When COVID happened, we finally had the space to work together. It was this incredible meeting—our sister connection and our different backgrounds coming together. We come from really different musical worlds, but they make sense together and feed into each other.

I learned so much working in the studio with my sister. It was my first experience using the studio as a compositional tool. I came in with notated pieces, but I discovered that instead of following something written left to right, deeply listening to each other and going back and forth spontaneously created a much richer space for music.

Rebecca Foon:
It was really fun for me too. My process has always been rooted in improvisation, and I’m very comfortable there. But Aliayta’s tools are so finely developed. On a theory level, it’s exciting to explore that space with her—spiritually, technically, and in terms of channeling—because she’s such a powerful violinist.

She brings so much depth to the direction the music takes, in ways I can’t always reach on my own. It helps me become a better musician, and I’m grateful for that. I think as musicians and composers, we’re all trying to tap into that channel, that connection to something beyond us—call it God or something else. That next note, that perfect line of communication with something bigger.

When I play with Aliayta, I trust wherever the music goes. It’s not always easy, but it’s a joy to play and see what happens. Even if we’re not always reaching that space, it’s a joy to be in it.

Aliayta Foon:
I think about creativity as a river. The hardest thing is not letting the critical mind pull you out. Following your intuition, listening deeply, staying in that stream. This project was a real example of that, and I think it was possible because of the trust between us.

Rebecca Foon:
Exactly. That trust in music—when the foundation is trust, respect, and some kind of psychic connection—it opens up a universe. You’re not wasting energy trying to impress or dealing with insecurity. That stuff is noise pollution. It takes energy away from reaching that space where you can just let the music unfold.

Aliayta Foon:
Totally. One thing you mentioned that really resonates with me is naivety—destabilizing the idea of the artist as nobility or the ego of the artist. It’s often easier to let go of judgment and ego when you allow a sense of play, like a child in a sandbox, unburdened by training.

Because of the trust and respect between us, we were also learning from each other and working in unfamiliar ways. That unfamiliarity helped destabilize the critical mind and made space for a more open and uninhibited process in the studio.

What was the first track you recorded for the album?

Aliayta Foon
Yes, I think the first things that we recorded—this was an interesting experience for me—were some of the more concrete sketches of musical ideas I had come in with. I kind of recorded a bunch of those, and then we worked through them.

What I ended up remembering most fondly are the moments when we listened back to those and completely moved away from anything that had been concrete. Those became a foundation for something much more interesting, with more freedom and play in it—largely through that creative, improvisatory space we were talking about. I can’t remember exactly which tracks, though, specifically.

How do you usually communicate musically when recording together?

Rebecca Foon
Well, I do think we’re good at getting a bit lost.

And I think it’s partly why it’s so enjoyable—getting out of planet Earth a little bit and finding a creative zone that’s like finding a language with each other in the musical realm that’s not so grounded in planet Earth. What I mean by planet Earth is our brains, the logic of our thoughts, and the admin of life. In terms of communicating musically, I think we’re able to find that space outside of our rational mind quite easily because we’re sisters and there’s some weird telepathic thing going on.

So I think we communicate on a musical level in a very profound way, which is something I’ve never experienced before. It feels—you know what it feels like? It’s like if we were mycelia. You know how mushrooms, like fungus, talk to each other and grow? I feel like we’re that. We’re like mycelia, able to communicate in really bizarre ways that I do not understand, but it’s fun.

Aliayta Foon
I’d also add that one thing that was really interesting, and that I often reflect on, is the brilliance of the prompts and ideas—musically—that my sister would communicate with me. It felt like she could have this alternative career as a brilliant producer, like a Brian Eno figure in the studio.

There were a lot of moments where Beck would be sitting—or even lying on a yoga mat on the ground in the studio—and just say a few things. “Oh, record that again, but think about this.” Or “Can you just…” really just giving a few words where I felt clarity in the energy I was giving in a take, but it wasn’t rooted in anything specific—no pitch or rhythmic or harmonic information. It was an idea or an affect or an emotion that really helped open the creative channels. Which, for me, is the big thing: opening and not closing, staying in that space.

Rebecca Foon
So cool.

What role did the surrounding landscape play in how you approached this project?

Aliayta Foon
Huge impact. When we recorded it, most of the album was made during deep Montreal winter. We were recording surrounded by snow.

And I really, really think that you hear the sound of the ice and snow on the album. I hear that so clearly when I listen to it—it really comes through viscerally for me.

What kind of equipment did you use during the sessions, and do you have any favorite tools or instruments?

Rebecca Foon
Yeah, so I built a recording studio in a barn. Was it during COVID? Maybe a year before COVID.

It’s a converted barn—beautiful high ceilings, old wood beams, and lots of glass that overlooks a meadow. It’s a very beautiful space to make music in, especially as a string player, because of the acoustics. There’s not a lot of sound design in the barn, it’s just basically a barn, and we just use nice mics—like Coles, a U67 and a U47, and a Scheps. Those are kind of the signature mics we use for recording.

There’s also a nice piano in there, just a Yamaha U1 felt piano with a mute pedal that we all love. So it’s quite simple. There’s not that much going on in terms of the recording setup, but the space—coming back to Yo-Yo Ma—he always talks about how, when he plays the Bach Cello Suites, he thinks a lot about architecture and how different spaces can impact the playing and the music. I really feel like that space—the barn, and the deer and nature all around—it really gets into the soul of the music.

It’s all connected.

Aliayta Foon
Absolutely. One thing that came to mind with that question is that people have asked me if there were preparations on our instruments—both on the piano and on the strings. A couple of people had the impression that there was tinfoil on the strings or paper to change the timbre.

I think it’s because we were experimenting so much with really severe molto ponticello and a lot of overpressure and different kinds of noise on the instruments, which gave the impression that there were preparations involved. That was really interesting to me, because it’s not at all the case. It’s really quite a simple setup.

Do you have other projects already in progress—either together or separately?

Rebecca Foon
Yeah, well, we are working on a new album, so that’s very exciting. Part of it is going to involve an ensemble, so that’s very, very exciting.

I also have a solo album coming out that’s totally different—it’s more dream pop music, and I’m singing on it. So it’s a very different vibe.

And Aliayta is constantly composing new work. Do you want to say anything about that?

Aliayta Foon
Yeah, absolutely. Next week, I’m recording an album in the same space with a collective of mine called 40 Minutes, which is an interdisciplinary group. It will be an audiovisual album.

Currently, the main projects I’m working on compositionally are a large ensemble piece for the Bang on a Can festival, and I’m composing a viola duo—a commission for two violas—which should be a really fun space of play. One of the big projects that I’ve been working on recently, and am continuing to work on, is a piece for solo violin and audio-reactive lights.

There are 200 audio-reactive lights that respond to me as I’m playing live.

Rebecca Foon
So beautiful. And one other fun thing we always play at is a music festival I put on, where we recorded our album with Patrick Watson. Aliayta and I, every summer, we play at the festival and play in the forest, which is fun because the whole concept of the festival is to connect nature and music.

How has your relationship with environmental activism shaped your music?

Rebecca Foon
That’s a really interesting question. I don’t think I’ve ever been asked that question. I love that question.

I would say my environmental activism has shaped me as a human in that it’s really helped me channel, in the sense that it’s helped me shave away my ego. Environmental activism is all about the greater good, about people and humanity and living beings on Earth—about the state of our world, nature, conservation, biodiversity.

It’s not about me, or people I love—it’s about the greater good of the planet. And that’s really helped me with performance and public speaking. I used to be so nervous giving speeches, but as soon as I started speaking about something rooted in love and sustainability and a thriving world, I didn’t get nervous anymore. Because it’s not about me—it’s about a message that’s about peace and love and sustainability.

So I channel that energy into everything I do now. And when I channel that energy into music, I don’t see myself on my cello or any instrument I’m playing—I don’t see it as me. I see it as tapping into something beyond me.

And that is a very spiritual experience for me, one that I enjoy deeply and get a lot out of. That’s why I make music. So I would say—and to sum it up, sorry for the long-winded answer, but I really love the question—the biggest thing it’s done for me is help me embody a spiritual practice that I can bring into my music and my playing.

Aliayta Foon
Oh, that’s such a beautiful answer. The idea of ego and how that’s impacted by thinking big picture—I think, personally, the desire to work in nature and respond to nature, to interact with what I learn and bring that learning into the music I make and the choices I make, is really present.

One different idea to bring in—something I’ve been thinking about recently—is how interacting with your values in a concrete way, musically, can impact the limitations you’re working with. For example, I’m recording an album next week. It’s an interdisciplinary practice, and there are a lot of materials we need—lots of items on our list to bring or purchase. I was going through that list and thinking: what is sustainable? How can we reduce our impact? How can we bring more of our values to this project?

One element was percussion. We didn’t have any percussion options. So instead of buying something or contributing more consumption to the project, I used components I already had and made some percussion circuits myself—using analog electronics instead of sourcing additional materials.

That’s just one example that’s come up recently. Thinking about my values, how I can interact with them in my practice—and if those values mean working with additional artistic or process limitations, maybe there’s an interesting way to solve that problem that leads to more creativity.

Photos courtesy of Rebecca and Aliayta Foon-Dancoes

Matteo Damiani

Matteo Damiani is an Italian photographer and author. Curator of the sites Retrofuturista.com; weirditaly.com; china-underground.com and others