On his fifth full-length release, the Puerto Rican multi-instrumentalist continues to pay homage to the classic sounds of dub reggae while taking the genre in new directions.
Gary Moskowitz for GRAMMY.com | May 27, 2025 | Photo: Alex Bulli
Puerto Rican singer, songwriter and multi-instrumentalist Pachy García is a one-man band. Under the moniker Pachyman, he combines the heavy, reverb-drenched grooves of classic 1970s dub reggae with the big synthesizers and keyboard sounds of Krautrock.
Throughout his career, García has recorded himself playing all the instruments on each song. He then mixes those tracks with an acute level of precision aimed at capturing — and reimagining — that ’70s analog Jamaican sound. In live performance, García is in constant motion. Like a conductor leaning into an orchestra, he feverishly pushes and pulls faders and knobs on his mixing console to blend the sounds of pre-recorded instruments in order to put heavy emphasis on specific sounds at just the right time. By manipulating the sounds in this way, he creates moments of quiet tension, heavy and repetitious grooves, and big blasts of reverb.
García brings this studied production and intense live energy to his new album, Another Place. While Pachyman retains his reggae and synth roots, Another Place is even more expansive with additional vocals and a wider range of electronics that nod to some of his influences outside of reggae music, like Cafe Tacuba and Can.
“I want [the new album] to feel like a journey, like a mixtape,” he tells GRAMMY.com.
Another Place, García’s fifth release, is the result of decades of sonic exploration. He played keyboards in reggae bands in Puerto Rico for about 10 years after graduating high school, and over the years taught himself how to play bass, organ, melodica, and guitar.
He moved to Los Angeles in 2012 and played in bands like the post-punk group Prettiest Eyes, but Pachyman the solo dub reggae artist was born once García turned the basement room of his L.A. apartment into a recording studio with an eight-channel mixing board, drum set, some cheap old microphones, and keyboards.
Watch: Global Spin: Pachyman Becomes A One-Man Band For This Groovy Performance Of “Sale El Sol”
This new era of Pachyman comes courtesy of a little help from his friends. Backed by a full live band, he’s touring Europe this spring and summer, and hits the U.S. in the fall. GRAMMY.com spoke with García over Zoom about his new album, his love of dub reggae, and his approach to making music.
https://open.spotify.com/embed/album/5QdSlH2pAjsxVMK7qvQ5QI?utm_source=generator&theme=0
You’re still playing dub reggae on Another Place, but you seem to be stretching out a bit by adding new ingredients to the genre.
I just kind of wanted to try different stuff, and not repeat myself. Dub has such a particular sound, but it’s crossed over into other genres, so I wanted to bring those small crossovers into my music as well.
There are moments of post punk, and more keys, more synths, more electronic, more breakbeats, more spliced vocals, and more of my personal routes. It sounds more Caribbean. I tried to reconstruct reggae patterns in new ways. I’m trying to evolve.
On your first four albums, you made classic-sounding dub reggae music entirely on your own. What made you want to create music in that way?
I’ve been in bands my whole life, but when I started this project, I got really interested in self-producing and working with analog gear. It was a therapeutic, little basement project making those records. I was cranking out music, and people became so interested. I really wanted to try to recreate that mid-1970s Jamaican stuff that I’m so obsessed with.
Why do you think you’re so obsessed with dub reggae?
That early era was such an experimental time in music. Nothing else like that was happening. It was instrumental music that was melody-based, and it took cues from funk and James Brown, but they were creating their own things. It was very raw, and it was futuristic.
They were working with all this technology, experimenting with all these things that nobody else was doing, in a very danceable way. The playing is impeccable, and the bass as a melody instrument creates such a particular style. Even by the time I discovered it, it was still futuristic.
How did reggae music enter your life?
My brother was really into Bob Marley and the Wailers, but I didn’t really care for it at first. I was really into punk and metal growing up in Puerto Rico, and my friends were in punk bands. But in the ’90s they played a lot of reggae on the radio, so I started hearing it a lot. Then I met a guy in middle school who tipped me to [dub reggae producers] Augustus Pablo and Scientist.
What about Augustus Pablo and Scientist caught your attention?
Dub reggae is the first time in music that the producer is the artist, and it happened in Jamaica for the first time. They got bands to record, or chose songs already recorded and then approached it in new ways. Instead of the performers or musicians, it was the people behind the boards making things happen. You might now even know it if you didn’t read the liner notes.
They were the original tastemakers, with a refined ear, zeroing in on specific songs and specific parts of songs, similar to what hip-hop producers or electronic producers went on to do. They are just people behind closed doors, cranking away, making something sonic that people haven’t heard before.
There’s a repetitiveness to reggae that you’ve said has a certain power to it. Can you elaborate?
I feel like certain people just gravitate toward doing something over and over. The repetition grabs you, reshapes you, and you fall into time with it. Fela Kuti was similar. There’s a ritualistic nature to it, and it becomes like a mantra, or like a spiritual practice. But also Krautrock and bands like Can are big inspirations, with those consistent repeating things that get you in this zone, and you live with it, and you feel closer to people around you.
You grew up in Puerto Rico but moved to Los Angeles to pursue music. What was that transition like for you?
[Puerto Rico] is my home. I played in so many bands there and went to music school there. I was out and about all the time, in the scene, that’s who I am. Playing in reggae bands in Puerto Rico for 10 years informs my work. But I left there just to see a different side of myself, to try to pursue music in another place, and expand my horizons.
I’ve learned a lot being in L.A. It broke my ego and shaped me. I started over from scratch. I’ve learned more about how records sounded back in the day, using tape machines. I’ve been using old mics I found in L.A., and have been meeting more engineers. It’s sharpened the knife in a way, by taking ideas I had and strengthening the best ones.
You’re a fan of using vintage gear. How so?
In a way it gets me closer to old sounds, but random old gear also makes you sound different on recordings. Any artist wants to be unique. Also I just like finding old mics for cheap, and then figure out how that old gear can potentially help my music. It’s also a challenge to work with what you have. Less is usually more. You don’t need fancy gear, you need good ideas. I just stay in that wheelhouse of using what I have in different ways.
You journal a lot. What do you typically write about?
I’ve been falling off on my journals a little lately. I used to have so much anxiety about playing so many solo shows; journals helped me blow off steam and bring the stress down. Lately I’ve been walking more.
Right before bed I usually write down ideas. They’re often just feelings, or random verses. I’m not as stressed lately. I had to be kind to myself and do some healing. Not having to write all the time is a good thing.
Performing live, you turn a lot of knobs and dials on a mixing board. Can you explain what’s happening when you’re doing live mixing on stage?
Basically those tracks you hear are instruments I recorded, and recordings are based on dub records. So I am essentially rearranging music on the fly. The records are like my band, the band is playing, and the groove never stops. I am playing with volume, reverb and delay. I can create big splashes of cymbals or snare drums, or take out the melody. It’s a way of creating new rearrangements of songs, which is a classic way of making dub records.
That’s a lot to keep track of in real time in front of an audience. You’re doing a lot of improvising.
Things can go wrong, but I know the songs so well. I know when things need to come in and out, and I know when to hit the right snare or guitar at just the right time so things wash over the room, or I can just not touch it at all, some people like that.
In the early days people thought I looked so confident, but I was dying inside. I tried not to play L.A. for the longest time because I didn’t want to play in front of my friends. Sometimes it’s harder to manifest yourself in front of friends than strangers. I would look like I’m having the time of my life, but it’s so easy to stress out.
You’ll be touring Europe and the U.S. with a full band. How is that changing your approach to music?
Playing with a band has felt so refreshing. For the longest time, I knew what I was getting into when I finished a record, but I want to see how this sounds live with real people blurring the arrangements instead of me on a mixing board. These are people who play really good, who maybe haven’t played this style before, and showing them the ropes. It’s an experiment, but I think I’ve figured it out.
Any other plans or goals for the rest of 2025?
Hopefully I’ll crank out another record. But first let’s see how this new record does out in the world. It’s my most varied record, so let’s see where it takes me around the world, hopefully Asia. Mainly just keep writing and recording, that’s my happy place.
