Three Suites by Colin Hinton

THREE SUITES

I began writing this music in late 2019, before the term “COVID” meant anything to me. By early 2020, I had written enough material to try two sketches with Santiago and Eivind. We played a gig that March, not knowing it would be our last for years (I still remember unloading my gear after that gig and getting news about the first flight cancellations). Within days the city was shut down. Those early sketches we played became tied in my mind to that initial fracture point in our society.

The following months were difficult. I was teaching full time on Zoom and driving DoorDash at night, returning to these pieces whenever I could—not as a project with a deadline, but because they were something steady to hold on to. They carried a weight I didn’t fully understand at the time.

I spent long hours alone with the material those nights, the mix of quiet streets, loneliness, suspended time, and strange beauty seeping into the harmony and pacing. By late 2022, I realized these pieces belonged together as different angles in the same emotional landscape.

In Absentia reached back the furthest, drawing from fragments of that March 2020 gig. Skumringstid came from the opposite direction, from the long, disorienting nights of the pandemic. Its world is nocturnal: dim light, still air, the kind of quiet you hear only when a city has emptied out.

Elegy for Ralph carries the deepest personal weight. Ralph Peterson was my teacher from 2016 until his passing in 2021. His presence changed my life not just as a drummer, but as a person. Writing this piece became one way of sitting with that loss.

This music would not have been possible without Santiago and Eivind. Santiago is a long-time musical companion who intuitively understands my harmonic language. I admired Eivind long before we worked together; his sound and his care, both in playing and mixing, shaped this album profoundly.

And then there’s Tyshawn. He’s the mentor and friend who pushed me to become the artist I didn’t yet see in myself. Having him in the control room felt like the fulfillment of something set in motion well over a decade ago. His presence grounded the session; his ears and insight helped the music find its final shape.

The recording had its own surreal moment. On the second day, a flash flood shut down most of the city. When we finally arrived—hours late, soaked, exhausted—we just laughed. The pressure we’d been carrying dissolved. The music felt lighter, less burdened by expectation.

As I write this, it’s November 2025. The scene has reshaped itself, friends have left music, and mentors have passed on. I’ve gone to graduate school, written new work, and begun a broader life as a chamber-music composer. The things I cared about six years ago aren’t the things I care about now.

But this record holds space for all those versions of me:

The one still figuring out what it means to be a composer.
The one living through the uncertainty, quiet, and anger of the pandemic.
The one who came out the other side with a deeper sense of self, responsibility, and motivation.

Three Suites is not a summation, but a threshold—one chapter closing so another can open. I’m grateful for the people who helped me make it, for the years it spanned, and for the chance to finally share it with you.

Colin Hinton
November 2025

Colin Hinton is a Brooklyn based drummer, composer, and educator whose work bridges jazz, free improvisation, and chamber music. He leads a piano trio with Santiago Leibson and Eivind Opsvik, and co leads Ocelot with Yuma Uesaka and Cat Toren. Recent works include Rtn CONUS RELAD (string quartet, 2025) and Shifter II (for violin and piano, 2025).

ColinHinton.com