Music

Album Review: The Sound of Science (Jeffrey Zeigler/Golden Hornet)

Review Published in The Austin Chronicle. Read online version here

Cello-led neoclassical arrangements modulated by modern electro grooves, The Sound of Scienceimplores the dystopia of a world led by science deniers. Dexterous cellist formerly of the Kronos Quartet, Jeffrey Zeigler preforms an eight-track project produced by Graham Reynolds and his local chamber music laboratory, Golden Hornet. The two principals enlist renowned composers from around the globe to meld soundscapes inspired by a scientist of their choosing. Opener "The Brain" conveys chaotic neuron firings as Reynolds interprets UT neuroscientist Kristen Harris through a buzzing barrage of cosmic synths, scissoring snares, reverb-gated kicks, and swarming cello reminiscent of Rimsky-Korsakov's "The Flight of the Bumblebee." Tragic strings on Sarah Lipstate's "Radiation in Moderation" paint an isotopic apocalypse inspired by Marie Curie, while Paola Prestini and climatologist Andrew Kruczkiewicz's "From Bones to Fossils" employs meandering strums devolving from life to death in imagining climate change's drowning potential. Earth no longer habitable, Zeigler's ethereal playing on Felipe Pérez Santiago's "Quest" fuels an intergalactic journey interrupted by meteor showers of industrial kicks and space invader statics influenced by astronomer Jill Tarter. If R&B can prime us for love, punk for rebellion, and rock for revolution, The Sound of Science confirms that music can help us cope with and challenge the ongoing attack on scientific fact. Accompanied by methodical visuals, Zeigler plans on completing the entire experience live here at Fusebox Festival in April.

4.5/5

ACL Live Review: Moses Sumney

Story published in The Austin Chronicle. Online version here.

ACL fosters euphoria, but dance parties hardly jibe with a sexual predator on the highest court and global warming hell arriving in 2040. Moses Sumney’s Sunday afternoon set in the Tito’s Tent didn’t so much distract from the existential dread as it exaggerated his own, moving a transfixed festival crowd to tears through vulnerable introspection.

“You could be partying, but you chose to be crying,” pointed out the singer behind Matrix-esque sunglasses and a mystical, all-black, cloaked suit fit for a funeral on Mars.

The Ghana-raised, L.A.-based crooner was right. We could have easily been losing our dome to X Ambassadors or Janelle Monáe, but we chose to wallow in Sumney’s torment because it helped manage that of our own. His melodramatic electro-folk crosses Sufjan Stevens and Björk as it wrestles with his biggest quandary: how to operate as a romantic in a society that conditions your self-worth around fleeting, socially defined emotions such as love.

With the help of a three-piece rhythm section, Sumney drank tea and delivered rare microtonal range with ethereal ease. Gripping the crowd with his vocals and more, he spent an entire verse holding the hand of a mesmerized woman in the front row during his cover of Björk’s “Come to Me.” It’s strange watching someone with such a transcendent voice having to wrestle so much of their own value as demonstrated on abandoned hymn “Lonely World” and the sex-avoidant “Make Out in My Car.”

On “Doomed,” he wondered if being impervious to love renders his life meaningless.

However tragic the ruminations, they proved beautiful by representing a once lost soul finding his path by the grace of his own voice. His croons are so operatic, so vast, so textured, that they implore the multiplicity of the human experience, each note filling love’s void with a chaotic catharsis of fear, hope, comfort, and loss. A loop pedal layering buzzing vibratos behind the singer’s high velvet falsettos only heightened the evocative experience.

Make no mistake, however: Moses Sumney’s natural ability to oscillate between octaves on a whim pitted our stomach, dropped our jaw, and eased our pain.

ACL Live Review: Travis Scott

Story published in The Austin Chronicle. Online version here.

Travis Scott’s music is too sporadic, momentary, and Auto-Tuned to succeed anywhere but within the ephemeral conscious of the smartphone generation. His weekend one closing set on Sunday proved songs are merely the Houston rapper’s overture.

Like metal or punk, Scott’s mystique is only realized in a live setting. The Houston rapper embodies the “La Flame” moniker because his concerts set venues ablaze, inciting more mosh pits, riots, and hysteria with each show. None of this was lost on Juul-ripping Snapchatters who arrived early for Scott’s 8:45pm set. 

They waited for their their god with the cooped-up anticipation of a football team before taking the field. Some stretched, others hyped each other up by giving their friends dead arms and screaming “Travis, Travis, Travis,” as if they really believed Scott could hear them tucked away in his RV. As the appointed hour ticked past with no sign of the MC, questions bristled through an impatient crowd.

“Why even get on the plane after that hypnotic SNL performance last night?” wondered one fan no older than 15.

“Did he not get the memo that Childish Gambino broke his ankle and C3 needed him to play weekend one too?” another asked.

Finally, at 8:55 sharp, stage screens turned black before a cheeky intro asked, “Where in the world, but Astroworld, can you have so much fun?” Scott adored the Houston-area theme park as a kid, and was devastated by its premature closure. His new album takes the park’s title, but like much of his catalog, hovers through a projection of Scott’s memory.

As such, his ACL set brought us through the album’s gold, wide-mouthed cover and into the grounds of his own Astroworld

Beginning with the paranoid “Stargazing,” Scott toured his discography’s biggest attractions. From the bone-chilling “Mamacita” to the club conundrum of “No Bystanders,” hits old and new built momentum like the slow crawl to the top of a roller coaster before 808s dropped, smoke and fire shot through the air, and Scott’s rasp brought the crowd to a moshing frenzy. During “Goosebumps,” the rapper brought a high school kid onstage to perform his biggest hit to date. Pubescent vocals radicalized by the mic’s Auto-Tuning, the moment moved the youngster, Scott, and the crowd to reckless abandon.

Astroworld’s theme park trope reflects the ups and downs of Scott’s childhood, but starting 10 minutes late and ending 15 minutes early, the condensed set only made time for the highs. Introspective slow cuts such as “90210” and “Maria I’m Drunk” were left out for more obliterating hits “Sicko Mode” and “Butterfly Effect.” Instead of the roller-coaster ride finishing after its biggest drop, it looped back to free fall again and again.

Set List

“Stargazing”
“Carousel”
“Mamacita”
“Way Back”
“4 AM” (2 Chainz ft. Travis Scott)
“Dark Knight Dummo” (Trippie Redd ft. Travis Scott)
“No Bystanders”
“Butterfly Effect”
“Skyfall”
“Through the Late Night”
“Upper Echelon”
“Skeletons”
“Beibs in the Trap”
“Antidote”
“Goosebumps”
“Sicko Mode”

ACL Live Review: Blood Orange

Story published in The Austin Chronicle. Online version here.

Devonté Hynes’ ACL debut began with a prophecy his Saturday set soon fulfilled.
“We are not limited by biology.
We get to make ourselves.
And we get to make our families.”

The monologue by writer and activist Janet Mock appears on the singer’s recent Negro Swan track, “Family.” As it came to a close, the British multi-instrumentalist took the stage draped in a Blood Orange-branded bandanna and his patented white tank.

Hynes self-describes as sexually fluid and much of his music as Blood Orange reflects the search for refuge in our heteronormative culture. During a Saturday dinnertime slot, he found it on the ACL stage. Free as a kid singing to a hairbrush in the comfort of his room, Hynes commanded the stage with calm confidence as he danced and juggled between instruments.

Thumping 808s on “Saint” livened a crowd battered by the day’s heat, while “Out of Your League” and “Charcoal Baby” had them bobbing like broken bobbleheads to the track’s rubbery funk accents. The Negro Swan cuts set the tone for the 32-year-old Londoner’s set as the bandleader, and a sixpiece ensemble delivered a constant flow of sunny melodies over sparse, dystopian, Eighties dance-pop instrumentals that commingled synth blips with bursts of jazzy horns and lush grand piano and guitar from Hynes.

The mastermind behind these deep textures made sure each member of the ensemble got their close-up. Rhythm sectioners soloed often, and the most impressive vocal performance of the show came from backup singer Ian Isiah during gospel ballad “Holy Will.” He and crooner Eva Tolkin brought depth to Blood Orange’s airy melodies throughout.

The audience didn’t help much except during hits “You’re Not Good Enough” and “Best to You.” In fact, a predominantly white crowd couldn't truly empathize with Hynes’ reflections on the anxieties of the black experience, but his unquestioned self-love and free expression united most into a single Blood Orange family. Those grooves are universal.

ACL Live Review: Brockhampton

Story published in The Austin Chronicle. Online version here.

“It’s all about Brockhampton, fuck friends,” one young Brockhampton setgoer said to another on Friday as the two traded reasons why they were at the Miller Lite stage early and by themselves amongst a sea of hipsters, jersey-wearing frat bros, and high schoolers.

The packed melting pot reflected Brockhampton’s widespread appeal and how their new major label debut Iridescence debuted at No. 1 just a year after the San Marcos group undertook its first national tour.

Opener “New Orleans” saw Dom McLennon first to emerge through a smoke machine haze. As the caffeinating beat built momentum, he rapped into a mistakenly muted mic until it abruptly turned on halfway through his verse, thrusting a bewildered crowd into a riot in the blink of an eye.

Although the 13-song set was the second stop on the I’ll Be There tour for the new release, the energy peaked during the group’s hook-driven hits from last year’s Saturation trilogy of LPs. “Bleach” had the crowd belting its angelic hook a cappella, while “Sweet” moved everyone to beg for honey butter chicken biscuits with UT dropout Merlyn Wood. The blatant mix out of verses from departed MC Ameer Vann felt awkward to a crowd subconsciously expecting them. When “Gummy” skipped Vann’s bombastic verse, murmurs of his absence moved through the audience as others recited the lyrics anyway.

Iridescence resonates with upbeat techno juxtaposed by dark, Auto-Tuned, introspective lyrics. Vulnerable raps on self, sexuality, and mental health capture and spew 2018’s ethos with new pop sensibilities. It helps that Brockhampton’s live show strikes different chords when the group follows up tracks that making you want to mosh with those like “Weight” and “J’ouvert” that pivot on universal insecurities while dancing to British electro.

At just under an hour, the performance flew by in a blistering blur, possible justification for two of Iridescence’s most popular but slower songs, “Tonya” and “San Marcos,” not making the set list. A late-night show tonight at Stubb’s might corral those hits and more for those still clamoring for their favorite boy band.

ACL Fest Set List
“New Orleans”
“Zipper”
“Queer”
“Gummy”
“Star”
“Weight”
“Gold”
“Sweet”
“Honey”
“Bleach”
“J’ouvert”
“Fabric”
“Boogie”

Friday ACL Fest 2018 Record Reviews: Brockhampton (Iridescence)

Story published in The Austin Chronicle. Online version here.

Iridescence trades the Southern trap palette of 2017 LP trilogy Saturation for a more abstract, yet expansive splatter of futurist techno-trap. Recorded over a 10-day span at Abbey Road Studios with a full choir and orchestra, the fourth album from the Texas collective erases the memory of departed MC Ameer Vann in 15 tracks. Opener "New Orleans" triumphantly announces a new sonic direction with its explosion of blown-out 808s and revving synths. Single "J'Ouvert" melds Lavaman's soca jam "Doh Blame Me" with buzzing kicks and distorted, 8-bit synths to unearth Joba's most ferocious verse to date. Meanwhile, the breathless symphony of "Weight" drowns frontman Kevin Abstract in doubt. Hooks sparse and structure loose, Iridescence redefines future pop. 

Interview: Alina Baraz

Story published in The Austin Chronicle. Online version here.

Alina Baraz made Urban Flora, her lush 2015 electro-soul debut, with a Danish producer she only knew from SoundCloud beats and Facebook messages. Two years later, the EP’s island-time single “Fantasy” went gold. The Clevelander, now 24, hits the road in support of her more polished and sexy 2018 follow-up, The Color of You. Catch her Friday at Emo’s.

Austin Chronicle: You’re embarking on your second headlining tour. How are you feeling?

Alina Baraz: I feel absolutely prepared. I’ve worked my ass off to make sure this tour is everything I wanted it to be. I’ve added so many things that I love and I’ve put a lot of time into the set, so I’m just excited. And I love starting it out in Texas. It’s my favorite place.

AC: Why’s that?

AB: They just show love. Every time I go to Texas, the fans are not afraid to sing and dance. And the food!

AC: You convinced your mother to move to California so you could pursue a singing career there while in college. She had never heard you sing, so how did she react to your idea and when’s the first time she heard you sing?

AB: It was really bizarre that she had never heard me sing. Nor had I ever told her I could sing, but I grew up in a super musical family, so she wasn’t surprised. I was like, “I need to go to California, will you do this with me?” She said yes, quit the job she had for 12 years, and sold the place she was living in. It wouldn't have all gone down the same way if she hadn’t done that. I then invited her to this singing gig for college that I was doing and she heard me sing for the first time there. I think at that point she was very convinced.

AC: What’s it like being a female in R&B today, having to compete for ears in a male-dominated mainstream rap world?

AB: It’s not really competitive to me. The only person I should be competing with is myself. There’s so many women doing what they want right now, whether it be R&B, pop, electronic. I don’t really feel that it’s overpowered.

AC: Now six months removed from its release, how do you feel about The Color of You, and how does it compare to Urban Flora?

AB: It’s everything I wanted it to be. I was really anxious to put it out, because I love how everything is different. Change is my comfort. It’s not even comparable to Urban Flora. I made that in my room, and with that, you just have yourself for criticism. No one told me their opinion, because no one knew I could sing. And I had never written a song, so I could never criticize it. I could just put it out, so there was something really pure about Urban Flora.

With The Color of You being in a studio, it was really cool being with a bunch of collaborators in the room, just because a lot of times there’s some things you won’t notice about yourself and people will just point it out to you. It's very, very different. I can almost say I prefer the studio than just being alone. I think you need both though, finding the balance is important.

AC: Before this project and your first tour, a lot of your fans only knew you from what they heard and saw about you on the computer. What’s it been like coming out from that, letting fans see your face and you see theirs?

AB: It’s like with the meet and greets, too. It feels like family more than anything. Even though writing and sharing music is already so vulnerable, I wanted to show more of myself. It definitely changed everything. I used to write only for myself and now I write for myself and people that listen to me.

AC: How will this tour feel and look different than the last time you were in Austin, last spring?

AB: The biggest difference is really in myself. I learned so much about myself as a performer and I just dove into every single little piece of the band, the transitions, the lighting, the colors, and choreography. It’s night and day.

Leon Bridges Comes Home

Story published in The Austin Chronicle. Online version here.

If Leon Bridges’ hypnotic ACL Fest performance in 2015 knocked the audience into a deep coma, you might not have recognized the 29-year-old soul man whose tender croons revived then three years later at the Moody Theater.

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“Ya boy really graduated from C-Boys to ACL [Fest] to here?,” Bridges asked himself midway a 90-minute Saturday night set, the first of two sold-out shows at the premiere concert hall.

Besides his dapper getup, a characteristic vintage suit, everything about the Ft. Worth native appeared more in vogue and grandiose than before. His debut album, Coming Home, went gold (sales of 500, 000), but the night’s aesthetic matched that of 2018 follow-up, Good Thing. Bridges’ second album eschews the Sam Cooke and Otis Redding paradigm by trading acoustic Sixties gospel for Seventies/Eighties neo-soul that’s stylized for the dance floor as much the bedroom.

Opening in the spirit of Usher, the singer hopped onstage a bit stiff but charming as ever as he waddled to the uptown funk of “If it Feels Good (It Must Be).” His slicked back hair glistened against a gigantic LED backdrop glowing with his initials. A fivepiece band with two guitarists stood in for the White Denim-leavened backing from the tour three years ago.

A drastic departure from the Coming Home era, the moment felt as if it were packaged for opener Masego’s futurist soul. Taken aback, the crowd failed to match Bridges’ energy until he moved into the jazz-tinged Good Thing single “Bad Bad News.” Ringing against a thumping, bell-bottom groove, the main attraction crooned with the sweet bravado necessary to move an old soul to the dance floor.

Not until Coming Home’s title track did the audience transform from timid listeners to overzealous admirers. Bridges’ effortless and instinctive vocals empowered the house to bellow along and complete the entire second verse for the soul man as he stood raising his mic back at us. That momentum carried into more cuts off Good Thing.

“Georgia to Texas” spawned chills behind a heart-plucking double bass line accentuating Bridges’ nostalgic serenade. “Mrs.” seduced with a sloppy 6/8 kick and cross-snare exchange reminiscent of D’Angelo’s Voodoo. The evening’s only blunder was that of Good Thing itself.

Overproduced, the album sounds like an obvious attempt to mimic the success of Pharell or Bruno Mars. “You Don’t Know” and “Forgive You” washed away the flavor of Bridges’ voice with unneeded electro flair. Even so, Bridges offered a far richer experience than most can with just two albums to their name.

Moments that made you want to dance were as vast as those that made you want to squeeze your squeeze, as many did when he came out for an encore performance of “River.” Similar to his delivery of the Coming Home standout in 2015, Bridges, his guitar, and backup singer Brittni Jessie held the stage alone. Three years ago, he couldn’t meld such a wide range of feeling, style, and emotion.

Say what you will about Good Thing, but live, it elicits an evolved version of Leon Bridges that will carry him to new heights and new stages. The Erwin Center is next.

Meet Frederick The Younger

Swinging between piercing highs and slurring lows, Frederick the Younger frontwoman Jenni Cochran sings with the virtuosic gusto of a Seventies UK punk. She’s actually a Clevelander, who discovered her vocal range during a postgrad stay in Vietnam teaching English.

“It was such a musical culture,” offered Cochran by phone from Tupelo, Miss., first stop on FTY’s summer-ending tour. “Every school function would always involve a singing component. There’d be close to 1,000 people at these things, so I got up there and realized singing wasn’t as terrifying as it seemed.”

As she serenaded Vietnamese students with Lady Gaga covers, the duo’s other half, Aaron Craker, worked on a solo garage rock project in Louisville called Dr. Vitamin. When Cochran moved there with her parents after Nam, she stumbled upon a Dr. Vitamin show.

“She was the missing element,” says Craker of his former project, adding that they bonded over a shared love for David Bowie and the Beatles, so forging their own sound proved a work in progress. “She’d come up with fully formed songs, but it took me a bit to figure out the right chords to match them.”

The two became Frederick the Younger in 2015, and as they became closer, Craker slowly learned to accentuate, echo, and expand upon Cochran’s rich, wailing melodies with tremolo guitar sections and rich instrumentation brought to life by a dexterous rhythm section. It all manifests into a rockish, groove-pop iteration of the Yeah Yeah Yeahs combined with UK punk standouts Siouxsie & the Banshees.

“Someone said we’re like Jenny Lewis, but we rock out more,” proclaims Craker.

Hot Summer Nights Preview: Daphne Tunes

Story published in The Austin Chronicle. Online version here.

Daphne Tunes is “Sunday Pop” because “it has to do with what everyone does on Sunday,” explains Santiago Dietche. “I try to capture that feeling when you wake up late with someone you love, usually with not much going on, so the first cup of coffee tastes that much cooler.”

Volume 1, Daphne Tunes’ debut local EP from January, falls between Neil Young’s rootsy folk and Elliott Smith’s gentle introspection. It stretches sorrow into glee with breezy guitar soundscapes, and feels like putting your hand out the window on a road trip or, as its composer puts it, “looking up at the sky and just dazing.”

Dietche began sinking deeper into Daphne Tunes after a Hot Summer Nights performance with his now expiring garage-pop band, Growl, last year.

“I was between a band that was breaking up, this loud rock & roll band, and this sad pop band,” he says. “I wanted to write something in-between those that was more me.” 

As he scans this year’s Red River music festival lineup, he realizes he’s connected to just about everyone. 

Hovvdy is a “collaborator,” he says, his bassist Andrew Stevens records with Jess Williamson, and the guys in Holy Wave used to work with him in the Alamo Drafthouse kitchen on South Lamar. 

“Oh, there’s Daphne Tunes,” Dietche exclaims. “Fourth row down on the left, first name.”

The 25-year-old Austinite is sensible about placement. Although he’s connected to the local scene, Daphne Tunes is still new to it, but a busy start to the summer highlighted by a sold-out opening slot for local surf rock stalwarts Summer Salt means more and more indieheads are catching on. Even so, don’t expect Daphne Tunes to be in small print on future lineups.

The San Marcos Music Scene Runs Deep

Story published as the cover story for August 3rd, 2018 edition of The Austin Chronicle. Online version here.

ACL Fest hip-hop headliners Brockhampton might just be the tip of the iceberg from our neighbors south on I-35

On a March evening in 2016, inside the Dahlia Woods Art Gallery in San Marcos, a mixtape release party transpired unassumingly. Hosting such events regularly, the community exhibition center acts as a headquarters for local artists of the small college town. Bumping through the speakers was All-American Trash, debut release from local rap group Brockhampton.

Kevin Abstract, the song cycle's chief creative, stood at the center of the room wearing his signature motorcycle helmet. The rest of the project's producers, from UT student Merlyn Wood to Texas State music major Russell Boring, aka Joba, scattered themselves around the lightly attended event. Attendees scrolled through their phones, others sold merch, while the rest listened, sang, and danced.

By summer, the group had relocated to Los Angeles, landed a TV show on Viceland, and proceeded to drop three smash-hit albums within the span of six months.

In the process, Brockhampton redefined the mainstream's definition of a boy band. By trading bland pop for righteous rhymes intertwined with catchy choruses and cosmopolitan production, the crew brought the novelty genre under the umbrella of modern music's pre-eminent sound. And yet, on that night more than two years ago, few could have expected that the biggest hip-hop act at ACL Fest this Oct­ober – likely the most anticipated rap crew to hit a Zilker Park stage since Outkast in 2014 – would have emerged from San Marcos.

Thirty minutes down I-35, the Texas State University hub sits in the shadow of Austin. Nevertheless, its fertile music scene is thriving in its own right. Only 30 square miles and numbering some 60,000 inhabitants, the town where Stevie Ray Vaughan once sequestered himself to record has begun defying narrow city limits with raw talent and homemade support even as Austin and San Antonio inch toward becoming one metropolitan area.

Texas State University

Witness a man with no shoes jump onto the back of a moving, rainbow-painted school bus and it's easy to feel like you've receded several decades in San Marcos. For­tunately, over the last several years, that retro quirk has begun to fade. Between 2013 and 2015, San Marcos notched the fastest-growing city in America, according to the U.S. Census Bureau.

Texas State sparks much of the surge. Servicing 38,000 students, it became a research institution in 2016 after 19 straight years of enrollment growth. The school characterizes its hometown much like Denton is defined by the University of North Texas, the first institution in the country to offer a jazz degree. UNT remains the top choice for young musicians in the state.

Credit, in part, Thomas Clark. Before becoming the director of Texas State's School of Music, Clark held down a faculty spot at UNT.

"I had an impression all those years when I was living in Denton about San Marcos being a sleepy little college town," says Clark.

Things started to change in 2008 with Clark's arrival. At the time, Taylor Wil­kins, frontman of Austin metal act Otis the Destroyer, put together his first band, the Couch, while in his second year at Texas State.

"There weren't many people in bands that were in the Texas State music school," says Wilkins. "Denton had that, the combination of incredible jazz musicians and bands, but it was more punk rock in San Marcos – not as many musicians focused on the music."

Lack of venues to play proved one major obstacle. Case in point: After hosting 6,887 straight nights of live music, the Triple Crown closed in December 2015.

"That scattered the scene," says Steve Jones, a radio personality at Texas State radio frequency KTSW and publisher of the city's concert listing website SanMarcosTonight.com. "People at small venues picked up the slack."

Valentino's Pizza, Kiva Lounge (now named the Morgue), and Tantra Coffeehouse led the charge of local businesses adding stages to their footprint. However makeshift, this abundance lent musicians low-pressure environments to learn their practice. Accessibility thus invigorated San Marcos' live music scene.

"Austin is the live music capital of the world, but San Marcos is starting to be its younger cousin," says Clark, adding that Texas State's population now exceeds that of UNT. "A lot of that is coming from our program."

Groups such as the neo-soul quartet Blumoon and indie rockers Lantic are coming together in Texas State music classes.

"There's been a recent increase in talent in this new crop of young bands," says Troy Vita, producer of KTSW's Studio C series, which features live performances from local bands. "We have a really good crop of student bands right now."

Sarah Street

San Marcos' proximity to Austin is beginning to attract musicians the way the state capital has over the past quarter-century.

"It's between ATX and STX to where we can get gigs in both places," offers Andrew Harkey of Blumoon. "That's a pulling factor for a lot of musicians coming here. Also, it's not Austin. Austin is very popular, musicians on every corner, but it's saturated."

Much of the scene's vibrancy occurs outside of the downtown square. From Rock Bottom's bluegrass fusion to Attic Ted's freak psych, many of San Marcos' defining acts make a name for themselves through DIY shows.

"The music scene thrives because people bust ass to put on their own shows," affirms Mackenzie Dart of Rock Bottom String Band.

While performance spaces continue multiplying, many reside in restaurants and coffee shops where families go for meals and live music stays in the background. Homemade shows remain the workaround.

"Valentino's would try to have rap shows, but it's a family pizza shop, so rappers can't be going in there flipping tables," acknowledges Kenny Casanova, rapper in the city's fast-rising rap group Pnthn. "We really had to create our own venues."

Spaces range from basements and yoga studios to bamboo forests. Anywhere that's big enough to mosh can be a venue.

"The most successful shows around town are house parties because most people are underage or they just don't wanna go to bars," says Blumoon singer Kendra Sells.

Until just recently, Sarah Street constituted the epicenter of the DIY scene. A few blocks from campus, its house parties jolted the surrounding neighborhood into the wee hours. One conductor of that energy was student-led collective Chapter 12 Records. Founded as a record label for Texas State musicians, the venture caught momentum when co-founder Michael Howard stumbled upon a string band house party show in 2014 and subsequently threw his own musical bacchanal.

"I had never seen bluegrass, never seen people doing percussion with strings and a washboard," reminisces Howard. "I thought, 'I want to showcase this as much as possible.'"

Howard and a couple of buddies moved into a house on Sarah Street and started organizing afternoon jams and evening gigs. Business bustled. The party soon sprawled out onto the block, with Chapter 12 organizing themed parties for Halloween, MLK Day, and Christmas.

As with most house parties, police soon killed the buzz. "Cops started coming around 10pm and swiftly shut down house shows," laments Casanova.

In 2017, Chapter 12 launched the Martian Arts Festival, a two-day camping experience at High Road Rocky Ranch, which sits about 20 minutes outside of downtown San Marcos. A stacked bill of local musicians and artists culminated in 500 attendees its first year and close to 900 people marked the second annual event in April. Its success prompted Chapter 12 to rebrand as Apogee Presents, a promotions company they hope becomes "the Margin Walker of San Marcos."

Still San Marcos, Not Austin

San Marcos is the 59th largest city in Texas. The music scene is young and promising, but financing careers it isn't.

"There is essentially no way to sustain a music career there," says Wilkins.

Spaces such as the Morgue and Tantra aren't Hotel Vegas or Swan Dive. They're not going to spend much on music because it isn't the lifeblood of their business. People are going to have a slice of pizza or a beer regardless of if there's a band playing.

The San Marcos Music Scene Runs Deep

ACL Fest hip-hop headliners Brockhampton might just be the tip of the iceberg from our neighbors south on I-35

BY JEREMY STEINBERGER, FRI., AUG. 3, 2018

printwrite a letter

Pnthn

On a March evening in 2016, inside the Dahlia Woods Art Gallery in San Marcos, a mixtape release party transpired unassumingly. Hosting such events regularly, the community exhibition center acts as a headquarters for local artists of the small college town. Bumping through the speakers was All-American Trash, debut release from local rap group Brockhampton.

Kevin Abstract, the song cycle's chief creative, stood at the center of the room wearing his signature motorcycle helmet. The rest of the project's producers, from UT student Merlyn Wood to Texas State music major Russell Boring, aka Joba, scattered themselves around the lightly attended event. Attendees scrolled through their phones, others sold merch, while the rest listened, sang, and danced.

By summer, the group had relocated to Los Angeles, landed a TV show on Viceland, and proceeded to drop three smash-hit albums within the span of six months.

In the process, Brockhampton redefined the mainstream's definition of a boy band. By trading bland pop for righteous rhymes intertwined with catchy choruses and cosmopolitan production, the crew brought the novelty genre under the umbrella of modern music's pre-eminent sound. And yet, on that night more than two years ago, few could have expected that the biggest hip-hop act at ACL Fest this Oct­ober – likely the most anticipated rap crew to hit a Zilker Park stage since Outkast in 2014 – would have emerged from San Marcos.

Thirty minutes down I-35, the Texas State University hub sits in the shadow of Austin. Nevertheless, its fertile music scene is thriving in its own right. Only 30 square miles and numbering some 60,000 inhabitants, the town where Stevie Ray Vaughan once sequestered himself to record has begun defying narrow city limits with raw talent and homemade support even as Austin and San Antonio inch toward becoming one metropolitan area.

Texas State University

Witness a man with no shoes jump onto the back of a moving, rainbow-painted school bus and it's easy to feel like you've receded several decades in San Marcos. For­tunately, over the last several years, that retro quirk has begun to fade. Between 2013 and 2015, San Marcos notched the fastest-growing city in America, according to the U.S. Census Bureau.

Texas State sparks much of the surge. Servicing 38,000 students, it became a research institution in 2016 after 19 straight years of enrollment growth. The school characterizes its hometown much like Denton is defined by the University of North Texas, the first institution in the country to offer a jazz degree. UNT remains the top choice for young musicians in the state.

TSU School of Music Director Thomas Clark (Photos by David Brendan Hall)

“Austin is the live music capital of the world, but San Marcos is starting to be its younger cousin.” – Texas State University Music School Director Thomas Clark

Credit, in part, Thomas Clark. Before becoming the director of Texas State's School of Music, Clark held down a faculty spot at UNT.

"I had an impression all those years when I was living in Denton about San Marcos being a sleepy little college town," says Clark.

Things started to change in 2008 with Clark's arrival. At the time, Taylor Wil­kins, frontman of Austin metal act Otis the Destroyer, put together his first band, the Couch, while in his second year at Texas State.

"There weren't many people in bands that were in the Texas State music school," says Wilkins. "Denton had that, the combination of incredible jazz musicians and bands, but it was more punk rock in San Marcos – not as many musicians focused on the music."

Lack of venues to play proved one major obstacle. Case in point: After hosting 6,887 straight nights of live music, the Triple Crown closed in December 2015.

"That scattered the scene," says Steve Jones, a radio personality at Texas State radio frequency KTSW and publisher of the city's concert listing website SanMarcosTonight.com. "People at small venues picked up the slack."

Valentino's Pizza, Kiva Lounge (now named the Morgue), and Tantra Coffeehouse led the charge of local businesses adding stages to their footprint. However makeshift, this abundance lent musicians low-pressure environments to learn their practice. Accessibility thus invigorated San Marcos' live music scene.

"Austin is the live music capital of the world, but San Marcos is starting to be its younger cousin," says Clark, adding that Texas State's population now exceeds that of UNT. "A lot of that is coming from our program."

Groups such as the neo-soul quartet Blumoon and indie rockers Lantic are coming together in Texas State music classes.

"There's been a recent increase in talent in this new crop of young bands," says Troy Vita, producer of KTSW's Studio C series, which features live performances from local bands. "We have a really good crop of student bands right now."

Sarah Street

San Marcos' proximity to Austin is beginning to attract musicians the way the state capital has over the past quarter-century.

"It's between ATX and STX to where we can get gigs in both places," offers Andrew Harkey of Blumoon. "That's a pulling factor for a lot of musicians coming here. Also, it's not Austin. Austin is very popular, musicians on every corner, but it's saturated."

Much of the scene's vibrancy occurs outside of the downtown square. From Rock Bottom's bluegrass fusion to Attic Ted's freak psych, many of San Marcos' defining acts make a name for themselves through DIY shows.

"The music scene thrives because people bust ass to put on their own shows," affirms Mackenzie Dart of Rock Bottom String Band.

While performance spaces continue multiplying, many reside in restaurants and coffee shops where families go for meals and live music stays in the background. Homemade shows remain the workaround.

"Valentino's would try to have rap shows, but it's a family pizza shop, so rappers can't be going in there flipping tables," acknowledges Kenny Casanova, rapper in the city's fast-rising rap group Pnthn. "We really had to create our own venues."

Spaces range from basements and yoga studios to bamboo forests. Anywhere that's big enough to mosh can be a venue.

"The most successful shows around town are house parties because most people are underage or they just don't wanna go to bars," says Blumoon singer Kendra Sells.

Chapter 12 Records founders Eli Zablosky (l) and Michael Howard

Until just recently, Sarah Street constituted the epicenter of the DIY scene. A few blocks from campus, its house parties jolted the surrounding neighborhood into the wee hours. One conductor of that energy was student-led collective Chapter 12 Records. Founded as a record label for Texas State musicians, the venture caught momentum when co-founder Michael Howard stumbled upon a string band house party show in 2014 and subsequently threw his own musical bacchanal.

"I had never seen bluegrass, never seen people doing percussion with strings and a washboard," reminisces Howard. "I thought, 'I want to showcase this as much as possible.'"

Howard and a couple of buddies moved into a house on Sarah Street and started organizing afternoon jams and evening gigs. Business bustled. The party soon sprawled out onto the block, with Chapter 12 organizing themed parties for Halloween, MLK Day, and Christmas.

As with most house parties, police soon killed the buzz. "Cops started coming around 10pm and swiftly shut down house shows," laments Casanova.

In 2017, Chapter 12 launched the Martian Arts Festival, a two-day camping experience at High Road Rocky Ranch, which sits about 20 minutes outside of downtown San Marcos. A stacked bill of local musicians and artists culminated in 500 attendees its first year and close to 900 people marked the second annual event in April. Its success prompted Chapter 12 to rebrand as Apogee Presents, a promotions company they hope becomes "the Margin Walker of San Marcos."

Still San Marcos, Not Austin

San Marcos is the 59th largest city in Texas. The music scene is young and promising, but financing careers it isn't.

"There is essentially no way to sustain a music career there," says Wilkins.

Spaces such as the Morgue and Tantra aren't Hotel Vegas or Swan Dive. They're not going to spend much on music because it isn't the lifeblood of their business. People are going to have a slice of pizza or a beer regardless of if there's a band playing.

BluMoon

"It's really hard in San Marcos, because no one wants to pay," grouses Cold Tony's frontman Michael Martinez.

The Tony's are among a crop of San Marcos bands that boast an established following through ample local gigging, but in a college town, most won't progress beyond that. Patrons are on student budgets, so few shell out more than a couple of dollars for a meal, let alone a cover charge.

"There's this weird gap where bars can't book bands because no one will pay a cover charge and then established bands don't want to play because they don't get compensated," reveals Eli Zablosky, head of marketing and promotion for Chapter 12/Apogee Presents.

Musicians hope a dedicated venue will bridge the gap.

"We're hurting for a good, small, indoor venue," says Alex Schultz of Rock Bottom String Band. "Young bands need a place that books shows on Monday, Tuesday, and Wed­nesday to work out their live performance on an actual sound system and an actual stage."

Before that happens, business owners need proof young San Mar­tians have room for live music in their time and budget. The city has no dedicated music store, and the only record shop in town, Superfly's Lone Star Music Emporium, closed last year.

"You gotta think about the rest of the students that don't dress like us and don't think like us," says Harkey. "The EDM culture is more widespread than the live music scene."

Not seeing cash from live gigs is a reality for most musicians in 2018. Expecting San Marcos to become a performance powerhouse that funds lives might be asking the scene to grow in ways those within it are wary. Much of San Marcos' ethos is shaped by its defiance against becoming Austin.

"San Marcos does not want to be Austin," says Rock Bottom String Band vocalist Tara Miller. "I've lived close enough to Aus­tin to see how money has destroyed what people fell in love with Austin [for] in the first place."

"We have something really authentic coming from a bunch of kids playing their hearts out simply for the love of it," adds Dart. "Just because we don't get a bunch of 'big' bands coming through I feel like many folks tend to discount us right off the bat."

Inside the Bubble

No stretch to predict another hip-hop endeavor from San Marcos hitting ACL Fest stages soon. Pnthn, a forceful 10-man rap group, have burst onto the national radar from the same small college scene Brock­hampton emerged out of just two years ago.

Where the latter coddles singable melodies, Pnthn goes for the throat with a constant stream of sharp flows over bobbing and weaving, Southern-fried production. Formed only last year, the crew's string of successful DIY shows in San Marcos has hoisted them upon a wave of momentum yet to crash. Prominent publications including Pitchfork and Lyrical Lemonade have caught on, and this weekend the MC syndicate opens for cult rap hero Lil B at Mohawk.

Although still a small scene largely built in homes, pizza shops, and espresso bars, San Marcos stakes a larger claim in trending acts Pnthn and Brockhampton, who reflect what makes the music scene exciting right now. Like a farm system in baseball, the city remains intimate enough for any local act to captivate fans and close enough to urban action for raw talents to become stars.

"San Marcos is a bubble, but any act can burst through with the support of the city," says producer Por Vida. "The people will support great music acts because they know they deserve more than to be playing in the same college town."

10 Emerging San Marcos Acts

1) Pnthn A rap group with a 10-man rotation, Pnthn has no clear starting five. From Tony Tone's coolheaded flows to Por Vida's southerly production, everyone brings a different flavor to the table. This act is deep and ready to consume.

2) Blumoon Futuristic neo-soul with hints of bossa nova and extended jazz breakdowns.

The San Marcos Music Scene Runs Deep

ACL Fest hip-hop headliners Brockhampton might just be the tip of the iceberg from our neighbors south on I-35

BY JEREMY STEINBERGER, FRI., AUG. 3, 2018

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Pnthn

On a March evening in 2016, inside the Dahlia Woods Art Gallery in San Marcos, a mixtape release party transpired unassumingly. Hosting such events regularly, the community exhibition center acts as a headquarters for local artists of the small college town. Bumping through the speakers was All-American Trash, debut release from local rap group Brockhampton.

Kevin Abstract, the song cycle's chief creative, stood at the center of the room wearing his signature motorcycle helmet. The rest of the project's producers, from UT student Merlyn Wood to Texas State music major Russell Boring, aka Joba, scattered themselves around the lightly attended event. Attendees scrolled through their phones, others sold merch, while the rest listened, sang, and danced.

By summer, the group had relocated to Los Angeles, landed a TV show on Viceland, and proceeded to drop three smash-hit albums within the span of six months.

In the process, Brockhampton redefined the mainstream's definition of a boy band. By trading bland pop for righteous rhymes intertwined with catchy choruses and cosmopolitan production, the crew brought the novelty genre under the umbrella of modern music's pre-eminent sound. And yet, on that night more than two years ago, few could have expected that the biggest hip-hop act at ACL Fest this Oct­ober – likely the most anticipated rap crew to hit a Zilker Park stage since Outkast in 2014 – would have emerged from San Marcos.

Thirty minutes down I-35, the Texas State University hub sits in the shadow of Austin. Nevertheless, its fertile music scene is thriving in its own right. Only 30 square miles and numbering some 60,000 inhabitants, the town where Stevie Ray Vaughan once sequestered himself to record has begun defying narrow city limits with raw talent and homemade support even as Austin and San Antonio inch toward becoming one metropolitan area.

Texas State University

Witness a man with no shoes jump onto the back of a moving, rainbow-painted school bus and it's easy to feel like you've receded several decades in San Marcos. For­tunately, over the last several years, that retro quirk has begun to fade. Between 2013 and 2015, San Marcos notched the fastest-growing city in America, according to the U.S. Census Bureau.

Texas State sparks much of the surge. Servicing 38,000 students, it became a research institution in 2016 after 19 straight years of enrollment growth. The school characterizes its hometown much like Denton is defined by the University of North Texas, the first institution in the country to offer a jazz degree. UNT remains the top choice for young musicians in the state.

TSU School of Music Director Thomas Clark (Photos by David Brendan Hall)

“Austin is the live music capital of the world, but San Marcos is starting to be its younger cousin.” – Texas State University Music School Director Thomas Clark

Credit, in part, Thomas Clark. Before becoming the director of Texas State's School of Music, Clark held down a faculty spot at UNT.

"I had an impression all those years when I was living in Denton about San Marcos being a sleepy little college town," says Clark.

Things started to change in 2008 with Clark's arrival. At the time, Taylor Wil­kins, frontman of Austin metal act Otis the Destroyer, put together his first band, the Couch, while in his second year at Texas State.

"There weren't many people in bands that were in the Texas State music school," says Wilkins. "Denton had that, the combination of incredible jazz musicians and bands, but it was more punk rock in San Marcos – not as many musicians focused on the music."

Lack of venues to play proved one major obstacle. Case in point: After hosting 6,887 straight nights of live music, the Triple Crown closed in December 2015.

"That scattered the scene," says Steve Jones, a radio personality at Texas State radio frequency KTSW and publisher of the city's concert listing website SanMarcosTonight.com. "People at small venues picked up the slack."

Valentino's Pizza, Kiva Lounge (now named the Morgue), and Tantra Coffeehouse led the charge of local businesses adding stages to their footprint. However makeshift, this abundance lent musicians low-pressure environments to learn their practice. Accessibility thus invigorated San Marcos' live music scene.

"Austin is the live music capital of the world, but San Marcos is starting to be its younger cousin," says Clark, adding that Texas State's population now exceeds that of UNT. "A lot of that is coming from our program."

Groups such as the neo-soul quartet Blumoon and indie rockers Lantic are coming together in Texas State music classes.

"There's been a recent increase in talent in this new crop of young bands," says Troy Vita, producer of KTSW's Studio C series, which features live performances from local bands. "We have a really good crop of student bands right now."

Sarah Street

San Marcos' proximity to Austin is beginning to attract musicians the way the state capital has over the past quarter-century.

"It's between ATX and STX to where we can get gigs in both places," offers Andrew Harkey of Blumoon. "That's a pulling factor for a lot of musicians coming here. Also, it's not Austin. Austin is very popular, musicians on every corner, but it's saturated."

Much of the scene's vibrancy occurs outside of the downtown square. From Rock Bottom's bluegrass fusion to Attic Ted's freak psych, many of San Marcos' defining acts make a name for themselves through DIY shows.

"The music scene thrives because people bust ass to put on their own shows," affirms Mackenzie Dart of Rock Bottom String Band.

While performance spaces continue multiplying, many reside in restaurants and coffee shops where families go for meals and live music stays in the background. Homemade shows remain the workaround.

"Valentino's would try to have rap shows, but it's a family pizza shop, so rappers can't be going in there flipping tables," acknowledges Kenny Casanova, rapper in the city's fast-rising rap group Pnthn. "We really had to create our own venues."

Spaces range from basements and yoga studios to bamboo forests. Anywhere that's big enough to mosh can be a venue.

"The most successful shows around town are house parties because most people are underage or they just don't wanna go to bars," says Blumoon singer Kendra Sells.

Chapter 12 Records founders Eli Zablosky (l) and Michael Howard

Until just recently, Sarah Street constituted the epicenter of the DIY scene. A few blocks from campus, its house parties jolted the surrounding neighborhood into the wee hours. One conductor of that energy was student-led collective Chapter 12 Records. Founded as a record label for Texas State musicians, the venture caught momentum when co-founder Michael Howard stumbled upon a string band house party show in 2014 and subsequently threw his own musical bacchanal.

"I had never seen bluegrass, never seen people doing percussion with strings and a washboard," reminisces Howard. "I thought, 'I want to showcase this as much as possible.'"

Howard and a couple of buddies moved into a house on Sarah Street and started organizing afternoon jams and evening gigs. Business bustled. The party soon sprawled out onto the block, with Chapter 12 organizing themed parties for Halloween, MLK Day, and Christmas.

As with most house parties, police soon killed the buzz. "Cops started coming around 10pm and swiftly shut down house shows," laments Casanova.

In 2017, Chapter 12 launched the Martian Arts Festival, a two-day camping experience at High Road Rocky Ranch, which sits about 20 minutes outside of downtown San Marcos. A stacked bill of local musicians and artists culminated in 500 attendees its first year and close to 900 people marked the second annual event in April. Its success prompted Chapter 12 to rebrand as Apogee Presents, a promotions company they hope becomes "the Margin Walker of San Marcos."

Still San Marcos, Not Austin

San Marcos is the 59th largest city in Texas. The music scene is young and promising, but financing careers it isn't.

"There is essentially no way to sustain a music career there," says Wilkins.

Spaces such as the Morgue and Tantra aren't Hotel Vegas or Swan Dive. They're not going to spend much on music because it isn't the lifeblood of their business. People are going to have a slice of pizza or a beer regardless of if there's a band playing.

BluMoon

"It's really hard in San Marcos, because no one wants to pay," grouses Cold Tony's frontman Michael Martinez.

The Tony's are among a crop of San Marcos bands that boast an established following through ample local gigging, but in a college town, most won't progress beyond that. Patrons are on student budgets, so few shell out more than a couple of dollars for a meal, let alone a cover charge.

"There's this weird gap where bars can't book bands because no one will pay a cover charge and then established bands don't want to play because they don't get compensated," reveals Eli Zablosky, head of marketing and promotion for Chapter 12/Apogee Presents.

Musicians hope a dedicated venue will bridge the gap.

"We're hurting for a good, small, indoor venue," says Alex Schultz of Rock Bottom String Band. "Young bands need a place that books shows on Monday, Tuesday, and Wed­nesday to work out their live performance on an actual sound system and an actual stage."

Before that happens, business owners need proof young San Mar­tians have room for live music in their time and budget. The city has no dedicated music store, and the only record shop in town, Superfly's Lone Star Music Emporium, closed last year.

"You gotta think about the rest of the students that don't dress like us and don't think like us," says Harkey. "The EDM culture is more widespread than the live music scene."

Not seeing cash from live gigs is a reality for most musicians in 2018. Expecting San Marcos to become a performance powerhouse that funds lives might be asking the scene to grow in ways those within it are wary. Much of San Marcos' ethos is shaped by its defiance against becoming Austin.

"San Marcos does not want to be Austin," says Rock Bottom String Band vocalist Tara Miller. "I've lived close enough to Aus­tin to see how money has destroyed what people fell in love with Austin [for] in the first place."

"We have something really authentic coming from a bunch of kids playing their hearts out simply for the love of it," adds Dart. "Just because we don't get a bunch of 'big' bands coming through I feel like many folks tend to discount us right off the bat."

Inside the Bubble

No stretch to predict another hip-hop endeavor from San Marcos hitting ACL Fest stages soon. Pnthn, a forceful 10-man rap group, have burst onto the national radar from the same small college scene Brock­hampton emerged out of just two years ago.

Although still a small scene largely built in homes, pizza shops, and espresso bars, San Marcos stakes a larger claim in trending acts Pnthn and Brockhampton

Where the latter coddles singable melodies, Pnthn goes for the throat with a constant stream of sharp flows over bobbing and weaving, Southern-fried production. Formed only last year, the crew's string of successful DIY shows in San Marcos has hoisted them upon a wave of momentum yet to crash. Prominent publications including Pitchfork and Lyrical Lemonade have caught on, and this weekend the MC syndicate opens for cult rap hero Lil B at Mohawk.

Although still a small scene largely built in homes, pizza shops, and espresso bars, San Marcos stakes a larger claim in trending acts Pnthn and Brockhampton, who reflect what makes the music scene exciting right now. Like a farm system in baseball, the city remains intimate enough for any local act to captivate fans and close enough to urban action for raw talents to become stars.

"San Marcos is a bubble, but any act can burst through with the support of the city," says producer Por Vida. "The people will support great music acts because they know they deserve more than to be playing in the same college town."

10 Emerging San Marcos Acts

1) Pnthn A rap group with a 10-man rotation, Pnthn has no clear starting five. From Tony Tone's coolheaded flows to Por Vida's southerly production, everyone brings a different flavor to the table. This act is deep and ready to consume.

2) Blumoon Futuristic neo-soul with hints of bossa nova and extended jazz breakdowns.

Lantic

3) Lantic Anchoring an established indie rock group on the scene, drummer Dakota Carley says their upcoming album heads forward sonically as they've learned to treat music "like nurturing a little baby."

4) Bogan Villa Psychedelic petal metal, guitarist William Wells electrifies.

5) Samantha Flowers New to music, Flowers already opened for two of her contemporary influences. Her feel-good indie-pop debuted in front of sold-out crowds for Cuco and Boy Pablo earlier this year.

6) Rusty Dusty Soulful indie with Dr. Dog and My Morning Jacket sensibilities, though hints of Americana throw a pleasant twist.

7) Moon Dunes San Marcos folk-rock that could flow from the river, this fourpiece conveys the desert psychedelia of the Doors with the earthy tone of the town they reside in.

8) Poolboi Blu Deep sample hip-hop guaranteed to keep you cool in the summer heat.

9) The Cold Tony’s Mainstay within San Marcos' house party scene, the Tony's surf rock will soon become more jazzy with the addition of sax player Jamal Edwards, who emerged from Texas State's jazz school with guitarist/vocalist Michael Martinez and bassist Andrew Harkey.

10) Clever Heads Prevail Some Red Hot Chili Peppers in a San Marcos rock band best suited for Texas road trippin'.

Bedroom Pop, Comfort for the Sad Unknown

Story published in The Austin Chronicle. Online version here.

AAA.jpg

This past Friday night at Spider House, Michael Seyer, Bane’s World, and Inner Wave helped define bedroom pop.

A growing genre forming in response to music’s Auto-Tuned quest for infallibility, BP embraces human imperfection with alternative lo-fi soundscapes. Percussion strips Nineties boom-bap down to its core, while vocals sound like they were recorded on an iPhone’s Voice Memos app. Synthesizers ape Fisher Price keyboards from Toys "R" Us.

Steve Lacy and Claire Cottrill (aka Clairo) have become pioneering influences. The latter’s video for dreamy single “Pretty Girl” went viral after the Bostonian made it in bed using Photo Booth. The former’s iPhone-produced beats helped the Internet earn a 2016 Grammy nomination for their album Ego Death.

Both Seyer, from Southern California enclave Gardena, and Bane’s World principal Shane Blanchard of nearby Long Beach write and produce music entirely from their bedrooms. At 19, Seyer made his first album Ugly Boy, a thoughtful R&B meditation on self-discovery, using only GarageBand.

A slow-churning soul instrumental from the now-20-year-old producer and his band greeted a sold-out Spider House crowded with X’d out entry stamps. Staring into a plastic skull dangling from his hand, the experimentalist sang “Bad Bonez,” melting time with his 2018 album title track about confronting sins.

During “I Feel Best When I’m Alone,” Seyer’s vibrato-infested plea for alone time was juxtaposed by a seducing, Barry White-esque matte. Bedroom pop resonates with such young audiences thanks to warm instrumentals alleviating the anxieties of impending adulthood. It’s comfort music for the sad unknown.

One growing critique of the movement centers on its struggle to replicate layered, lo-fi productions onstage. In Austin, Seyer and Bane's World demonstrated the ability to improve their multi-flavored songs with live instrumentation. Blanchard tremolo-picked his way through guitar sections on “Drowsy" and “Stay Away From My Baby,” filling the room with soulful blues reminiscent of Stevie Ray Vaughan’s “Lenny.”

“You Bet I Stare” traversed the young crowd through the Summer of Love and “Drowsy” reinforced Blanchard’s penchant for the blues. This kind of flipping and bending through genres amongst bedroom pop artists derives from the streaming era. Nothing is off-limits because everything is a YouTube lesson away from expertise.

That musical climate makes a multifaceted group like Inner Wave possible. The L.A. crew capped the night with a Latin concoction of garage rock, psychedelia, and soul. The sunny surf rock of “American Spirits” returned the crowd to reality after the dream world of Seyer and Bane's World, who joined Inner Wave for a closing cover of “Creep” that came across as warmly as a group of friends gathered around the TV to play the Radiohead track on Rock Band.

The show’s contrast in styles and attitude showcased bedroom pop as less of a style of music and more so a reflection of a generation of like-minded artists with a DIY emphasis on song making. The common thread is a general desire to make music that looks, feels, and acts like those actually listening to it.

As tech languishes humanity, bedroom pop steals it back.

Interview: Ezra Collective is Ready to Take on the World

Story originally published on GoodMusicAllDay. Read here.

It’s day two of South by South West and the Austin streets are about as packed with people as the sky is with the clouds covering the impending sunset. Visitors scramble to Airbnbs and hotels for naps before the evening’s concerts. Bands trudge along sidewalks dragging amps and instruments. As they pack in tour buses, others unload into venues across town.

At the Main II on Red River Street, a breeze of London jazz is flowing for the “Jazz re:freshed Outer National” showcase. While Moses Boyd sound checks and Nubya Garcia follows, the backbone of Ezra Collective, brothers Femi and TJ Koleoso, stand off to the side and watch. Referred to locally as “the chosen ones’,” Ezra Collective mixes jazz with contrasting styles such as afro-beat, reggae and hip-hop. Their experimentation has helped define the jazz invasion occurring across the pond.

Femi plays drums and TJ is on bass. The rest of the group, now out exploring Austin, consists of Joe Armon Jones on piano, Dylan Jones on trumpet, and James Mollison on tenor saxophone.

Tonight will be Ezra Collective’s first performance in the United States and they’re first opportunity to play in front of a SXSW crowd that’s usually ridden with music industry folk.

For Femi, it’ll be just another show.

“People been asking, ‘are you going to change your approach since it’s South By?’ a lot of industry cats,” he says. “I’m like nah, whether you work for Sony or Atlantic or Warner, you still like being happy and dancing.”

The brothers head for the venue’s back courtyard and sit down on a bench that gives way to a view of Austin’s growing skyline. Over drowned out jazz horns from inside, they explain how Ezra Collective’s music lends itself to jazz appreciation in the modern era.

Femi says they study not only greats before them like Sonny Rollins and Felt Kuti, but also jazz and hip-hop forces of today such as Robert Glasper, Kendrick Lamar, Giggs and Skepta.

The name Ezra Collective embodies the group’s musical philosophy, TJ says. He explains how they’re named after the biblical prophet Ezra who made wisdom of the past relevant in the present by teaching it through relatable elements. Femi decided Ezra was a fitting symbol for the group since they blend an legacy art form, jazz, with the genres the group and their peers grew up listening to.

“We have this melting pot of all these different influences,” Femi says. “You need an openness to letting them all come out, I think jazz music allows for that.”

Femi and TJ agree that London naturally breeds their style.

“London is one of the most multicultural places in the world,” TJ says. “When people say, ‘oh you got a mix of that a mix of this,’ yeah cool, we grew up on that, we just learned to play it with jazz.”

Femi and TJ first picked up the drums and bass in church, giving them a gospel foundation that they only wanted to expand upon. They started studying other genres and Femi fell in love with jazz after reading his favorite musicians quoting jazz drummers in interview after interview. TJ didn’t appreciate the music coming out of his brother’s room until he started to play it.

“As soon as I started playing jazz, I fell in love because I realized it was about how well I could get my message across with my instrument,” says TJ. “It’s so authentic and it’s so you.”

“I love that jazz music is one of the genres where people like Sun Ra, Yusuf Lateef, Louie Armstrong and Nina Simone are all doing the same genre,” Femi adds. “I love the freedom that the word jazz music can give.”

The brothers honed their jazz skill at Tomorrow’s Warriors, a London jazz development organization for teenagers of ethnic minorities. There they would meet the rest of what became Ezra Collective in 2012.

o put themselves in a position to tour the world playing jazz, Femi says it was important Ezra Collective stayed true to their roots.

“The moment we try to sound like Americans, that’s the end of everything because no one can be better at being an American than an American,” Femi says. “People in London recognize us as sounding and looking like London.”

For Femi and TJ, preserving that London feel also means not changing their fashion from the streets to the stage, even if past etiquette called for suits and tuxedos.

“Oh, I wear suits,” TJ says.

“A tracksuit,” the brothers say simultaneously and laugh before realizing they’re wearing the same Nike sweatsuit but in different colors.

“I think it might be weird if Wynton Marsalis turned up in what I’m wearing right now,” Femi says. “If I’m going to be honest with the sounds I’m making, the music I’m playing, how I look has to be honest. This is what we wear in London. This is me.”

London hasn’t only been an influence for their success, it’s also been a resource. Once Ezra Collective solidified as a group and started to carve out its sound at Tomorrow’s Warriors, they were introduced to their community through organizations like Jazz re:freshed and British Underground.

Jazz re:freshed is London’s leading alternative jazz label that gained its clout by putting on weekly live music events in Notting Hill. The brother’s appreciation for the organization manifests when our interview is interrupted by Jazz refreshed Co-chief Executive, Adam Moses who is filming with a camcorder.

“That’s mister. jazz refreshed himself!” Femi screams. “He’s a hero of ours.”

“Big ups!” TJ adds.

The brothers say Ezra Collective benefited from London’s vast ecosystem of online music broadcast companies like NTS and Boiler Room. They also credited American artists like Kendrick Lamar and Kamasi Washington for redefining people’s preconceptions about jazz. Femi says they helped open the floodgates for wider Jazz acceptance and hopes this will translate to Ezra Collective fans around the world.

“I want people in Asia screaming about this, in Africa, let it be a South American ting too,” he says. “Let everyone know the magic that happens in London.”

Worldwide recognition and a Giggs feature are among the goals for Ezra Collective. For any of that to happen, though, Femi says maintaining the group’s chemistry is top priority.

“As bandleader, I’ve got to keep people happy, keep us together, keep making memories, he says. “If we’re friends first, then the features, the albums, the tours, the gigs…all of that will take care of itself.”

SXSW Speaks: The Marías

If you haven’t heard the “The Marías”, do start with “I Don’t Know You” the first cut off their debut EP, SuperClean Vol. 1. Restrained guitar and bass patterns jump in and out of downbeat drums, drowning you with emotion as you hear the complexities and confusions of lead singer Marías love for the band’s drummer, Josh Conway. It sets the tone for The Marias sound, an alternative, Latin rendition of bedroom soul-pop, and their complexion, a band formed around María and Conway’s relationship. In the midst of a stuffed SXSW, Josh and María caught up with GoodMusicAllDay to tell the story of how they met, what their ideal headlining concert would look like, and what’s next for The Marías.

East Austin’s Music Scene Evolves to Face Realities of Gentrification

Music permeates the night air on the corner of East 6th and Onion in East Austin. Drowned out hip-hop beats and punk guitar riffs flow out of Volstead Lounge and Hotel Vegas. Yuppies wearing vintage band tee-shirts stream in and out of bars. It’s the epicenter of a vibrant East Austin music scene that locals aren’t saying is better now than it was before gentrification.  

“I don't think you can put it like that, better now or better before,” Austin blues guitarist Matthew Robinson said sitting in the backyard of Dozen Street bar in East Austin. “I’d say its evolved, each section of it.”

Robinson had just performed in Dozen Street’s Monday night blues jam, reminding him of what East Austin used to feel like when he grew up there in the 1960s and 70s.

“The streets out here were smoking, every night was like a parade,” he said. “You had blues, soul, jazz, scientists, poets, everything. It’s a little bit like that at Dozen Street now. You never know what you’re going to get here.”

The lively east side Robinson remembers was energized by the Chitlin Circuit, an initiative that brought iconic music acts from B.B. King to Sam Cooke to East Austin on a tour through America’s segregated cities. Locals and venue owners believe East Austin is again a dynamic place to play and see live music, but its gentrified roots have shifted the scene away from natives and closer to East Austin’s new residents.

“There weren't music venues on the east side before gentrification,” said one venue owner, Topaz McGarrigle. “Gentrification, if anything, brought live music back to East Austin.”

McGarrigle and his mother, Eileen Bristol, own and operate Sahara Lounge, an eclectic East Austin music lounge that is described by locals as “the way Austin used to be” on its website.

What exactly East Austin “used to be” depends on who you talk to, but it’s a image U.T. Musicology Professor Charles Carson feels other new music venues in town are leveraging to promote business.

“What we’re getting in East Austin is like a theme park,” he said. “They kind of fixated on the weirdness and now they’re using that to curate their bars to people who can afford a $14 drink, but are a whole different demographic than those who created the scene.”

Carson believes this has shifted genre as well. “The venues and bars that are opening are shifting towards a whiter audience. More indie pop, less soul,” he said.

Harold McMillan also criticized clubs in East Austin. He said they could place more effort on honoring the historical neighborhood but saw the shift in genre as a symptom of the new East Austin. McMillan is the owner and director of Diverse Arts, an arts organization that works to promote, celebrate, and preserve art from African-American culture in Austin.

McMillan did acknowledge that gentrification has allowed East Austin to accommodate venues such as Dozen Street and Sahara Lounge that do honor and attract the neighborhood’s native music community.

“Dozen Street is one of the coolest things that happens in East Austin,” McMillan said. “They’ve managed to grow some community around musicians and locals, a little microcosm of what the neighborhood still has.”

Dozen Street also hosts “Butter and Jam” on Wednesdays, an open mic soul music jam. Jon Deas is on the keyboard every week. Even if the community around him is changing with each show, he finds unity getting the chance to play music every week.

“I can’t speak for the older guys who used to play blues down here,” he said. “But we’re here to just hang, jam, and share our art and talent with the community, no matter who it may be.”

McMillan stressed the importance of the rest of East Austin diversifying its arts programming as Dozen Street does.

 

“Regardless of who lives here, we need to continue to do programming that honors the African American past of this community,” he said. “People need to be reminded of where they are because the past of this community isn’t going anywhere.”

 

Although McMillan acknowledged there is work to do, East Austin has shown its focused on preserving its history. In 1998, the historic Victory Grill was added to the National Register of Historic Places, in large part because of the efforts of Eva Lindsey. The club is open today, but only on a part-time basis and has to be booked special events.

Lindsey’s father worked at Victory Grill as an electrician and Lindsey took over management of the Victory Grill in the 90s. Preservation offers her closure with the reality that East Austin’s past is far in the rearview now.

“I think those days are behind us,” she said. “That’s why I’m really glad I saved the Victory Grill, for me saving is all we can do.”

 

Review: Zigaboo's Modeliste Funk Revue in Austin

A white DW drum set announced Zigaboo Modeliste’s presence before he even sat down to play.

It was a Saturday night at Antone’s Nightclub in downtown Austin and Zigaboo’s openers, The Breed Brass Band, were on stage. Their drummer stood in the back with a snare drum attached to his neck, a crash cymbal to his right, and a bandmate playing the standup bass drum to his left. A spotlight shined, but not over them. It remained on that white DW drum set.

The set's emphasis even during the opening set suggested a clear purpose to the evening. This was a night to celebrate Zigaboo Modeliste, the legendary drummer of the genre-defining funk band, The Meters. James Brown may have been funk’s president, but Zigaboo was funk drumming’s architect. Even if you’re unfamiliar with The Meters, you’ve probably heard Zigaboo’s drum grooves. He’s been sampled by the likes of a Tribe Called Quest, NWA, and Public Enemy. His avant-garde, off-beat lick on “Cissy Strut” is considered one of the most influential drum patterns ever. It cemented Zigaboo’s new style of drumming, second line syncopated funk, as the backbone of funk music.

Zigaboo mastered the technique growing up in New Orleans. Second line was a traditional style of snare drumming that musicians played in funeral parades in the city. Zigaboo added flavor by adding syncopation; the use of multiple rhythms that are offbeat on their own, but form a groove when combined.

Zigaboo brought this style to The Meters before they disbanded in the late 70s. From Betty Harris to Paul McCartney, Zigaboo would go on to drum for countless iconic artists. Tonight he would be playing with the funk collective he formed in the late 90s, Zigaboo’s Funk Revue.

While much of the older crowd on hand grew up with funk, as a late 90s baby, I grew up with hip-hop. Throughout the show, I couldn't help but make connections between what I was seeing and hearing with what I grew up listening to. The first came as Zigaboo started “Cissy Strut” just two songs into the show. The song starts off with a relatively straightforward pattern carried by an offbeat exchange of kicks and snares that are intertwined by a 16th note hi hat pattern.

In an interview with Modern Drummer, Zigaboo explained the purpose of this simplicity. “I’ll stay at home’ and just play real simple until we (the band) decide, musically, that we’re ready to experiment together,” he said.

It’s akin to when a rapper feels out the beat to begin a freestyle, letting the rhythm build as they prepare a verse. When the rhythm coalesces to a tipping point, rappers break down the beat with rhyme; Zigaboo with drumsticks.

At 69, he played “Cissy Strut” with the same flavor and pizzazz that he brought to funk in the 60s and 70s. Improvisational and expressive, his limbs alternated rhythm as rappers alternate flow. The snare drum was almost his timekeeper as he stayed in the pocket on downbeats before going against the rhythm using offbeat kicks and punchy hits across the set.

From “Cissy Strut” the band moved into classics like “Cabbage Alley” and “Hey Pocky A-way” during which Zigaboo showcased that his greatest strength might be his modesty. He’s surely a sophisticated drummer, but where some drummers overplay to stimulate the listener, Zigaboo plays the bare minimum to achieve the same affect. There wasn’t a better example of this than “Hey Pocky A-Way.” Zigaboo started things off with a minute’s worth instrumental playing the song’s patented 3/2 kick and snare clave pattern. It was repetitive but not monotonous. It’s a sonic consistency that builds tension as a race car does when it revs its engine at the starting gate.

During “Funkify Your Life” and several other songs in the show, Zigaboo even sung while playing. The high notes he couldn't hit he exaggerated with high-pitched falsettos into the mic. At this point, drumming is such a deep un-conscious activity for Zigaboo, he’s able to be a real showman on stage. In between songs he told anecdotes about his career and reflected on the night being his first time back in Austin in nearly 40 years. After wrapping up “People Say” Zigaboo and his Funk Revue left the stage, but only momentarily, as he came back out minutes later for a 4-song encore. We wiggled our shoulders, swung our hips, and waved our arms to dance. The funk was alive.

 

Siblings and Austin Natives, The Bishops are Here to Stay


The Bishops played at Austin City Limits in 2017, a year after going as fans. They’re only getting started.

Growing up as the only girl in the Bishop family made Cara tough.

She’s just rolled the blunt being passed in the parking lot outside Music Lab, a rehearsal space in South Austin. Her brother Troy grabs it. “I’m not going to mention any names, but one time Cara may or may not have beat one of my older brothers in a fight,” he says. “It was a quick one too.”

“I stick up for myself a lot,” Cara giggles.

“She earned her stripes,” their brother Chris adds, sitting to Troy’s right. Neither he or his older brother Josh confirm or deny the claim, but Josh isn’t there to do so. That’s because he isn’t in The Bishops, the experimental hip-hop group his siblings started nearly three years ago.

Since then, they’ve become one of Austin’s most prominent and promising young bands. They’ve played more than 75 live shows in the city, including an appearance at Austin City Limits Music Festival this year.

That show was something the siblings had dreamt about since they were kids. Chris, 24, and Troy, 21, were born in Houston but moved to Austin before they were old enough to remember anywhere else as home. Cara is 19 and has lived in Austin her whole life.

Now they’re relaxing after finishing rehearsal for another show in their hometown coming up over the weekend. They were only able to practice four songs because of mixer malfunctions, but they don’t seem even slightly worried.

Troy can’t stop talking about yerba mate tea before doing a fake backflip for his Snapchat Story. He keeps repeating “Yerba Gang.” It seems he’s had a couple today. He and his siblings all have curly hair, but Troy has the longest fro. He’s been growing it out for over a year now.

Chris shows me a video of Troy trying to freestyle on his phone. Troy makes beats for the group but is starting to write verses and rap over songs like his brother Chris. They both can’t stop laughing at the video; Troy’s raw flow is amusing.

Cara sits off to the side and writes verses with a silver Sharpie on trace paper. She’s the group’s lead singer and likes to write her verses on unusual surfaces.

Being together brings out the siblings’ goofy sides. They can’t stop clowning on each other.

Their manager, Saaya Temori, is there too. She describes this energy as normal between them, calling it a product of love and creation.

“There’s some kind of magic in creating with the people you love, especially with your own blood,” she says.

The siblings first discovered it when Chris and Troy were in middle school and their dad brought home a used piano from a garage sale.

Troy didn’t know how to read music but had good enough feel that he could figure out how to play songs just from listening to them. The first he learned was “Crank That,” by Soulja Boy.

“That’s when I knew I was the shit,” he says before harmonizing the song’s classic chord progression. “I was a young Mozart,” he says. They all burst out laughing.

Using the production software FL Studio, or FruityLoops, Troy soon began making full length beats for Chris to rap over. They formed a duo called DailyDos but Chris didn’t think they were any good at first. “We were terrible,” he says. “But then Cara came.”

Photo Courtesy of Ceci Sariol (@cecisariol on Instagram

Photo Courtesy of Ceci Sariol (@cecisariol on Instagram

Cara had always liked singing, but her brothers didn’t realize how good she was until she joined them at the studio one day just before 16th birthday. She went in the booth cold and blew everyone away. “She started singing and everyone’s jaws were like wide open,” Troy recalls. “She shat on us.”

With Cara in the fold, they started making songs as a family and released them on the internet as The Bishops. They developed a style that couldn’t be described by a single genre.

“They’re as if Outkast and MGMT had a baby out in Houston and the god parent is Anderson .Paak,” Aaron Trizna says, a good friend and gigantic fan of the siblings.

Their debut single “Blood Ring,” released in December 2015, encapsulates their unique sound and family bond. Cara’s toughness from growing up with three brothers shine as she sings about not being afraid to fight because her family has her back. Chris raps about his story over a bouncy production from Troy.

“When you listen to “Blood Ring”, you can tell we’re a family,” Chris says as the blunt becomes a roach.

Just two months after coming out, “Blood Ring” climbed to #1 on Spotify’s United States Viral 50 playlist. It did so without The Bishops playing a single show outside of Texas.

The siblings feel they don’t have to move anywhere to continue making it big. This kind of mindset is challenged by many in the music industry, including Lauren Bruno, a talent buyer who’s has booked shows in Austin for eight years.

She sees Austin as a good place for artists to start, but not a place for them to flourish. “I don’t think there’s a big industry here,” she said. “It’s imperative for people to travel to places like LA and New York to shop their art.”

But The Bishops feel they’re walking proof that the internet allows any artist to flip this paradigm on its head. “Hell yeah — we got the internet,” Troy says when asked if they can make it in Austin.

Although the siblings hope to travel the world touring, they plan to be in Austin for the rest of their lives. “This is home no matter what,” Troy says.

They aren’t so worried about material gains from their music because they feel that’ll come naturally if they keep doing what they’re doing.

When asked about his next goal, Troy initially says he wants an autopilot Tesla, but Cara soon helps him change his mind.

“I just want to work together and become better than we are. Definitely stay together as a band,” Cara says. “That’s how you get the Tesla.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Chris responds. “I don’t even want a Tesla, but my car is ass right now.”

 

Interview: David Wexler Talks VR, Making 3D Visuals for Flying Lotus, The Weeknd & More


David Wexler of Strangeloop Studios gives us an in-depth look into life as one of the biggest concert visual artists in the world.

It was a strange sight. Not the usual mass congregation of hipsters wearing costumes. That was to be expected at a Flying Lotus concert in Austin on Halloween. People wearing costumes and 3D glasses to see live music, though? That was weird. Few concertgoers dancing during an electronic music show because they were so immersed in the background visuals? Even weirder. But this much is the norm at a concert with graphics made by Strangeloop Studios.

From partnerships with The Weeknd to Kendrick Lamar, Strangeloop is one of the leading concert visualist companies in the world. Their mind-bending visuals are created by David Wexler, the company’s founder, and creative director. David comes from a family of filmmakers and has been obsessed with manipulating visuals into video art since he was little.

Not a fan of “The Matrix” sequels, Wexler decided to make his own, combining his favorite moments from the 2nd and 3rd films into one that Wexler described to me as “far superior” when I met him prior to the Flying Lotus’ show last week.

Wexler brings this type of cinematic flair to the live concert arena. His application of narrative and concept represents a departure from the more decorative light shows that became common after the rapid rise of EDM called for more immersive concert experiences.

With each concert, Strangeloop continues to pioneer new standards for the art form. The Flying Lotus tour uses new technology from 3D Live to create an astonishing audio-visual experience. During each song, I felt like I was introspecting my own sub-conscious as I journeyed into that of FlyLo’s and Wexler’s. The visuals helped me achieve this by depicting abstract living elements and symbols of the human body being unwired and deconstructed. Each song existed in its own world with life forms conceived by beats in an atmosphere of melodies.

Flying Lotus’ silhouette occupied the bottom half of the screen, appearing to direct the experience as a conductor would his orchestra. In reality, the show is a collaborative effort. Although not visible to the crowd, David Wexler and visual artist John King A.KA. Timeboy are operating the visuals live, jamming with FlyLo using the video-mixing software Resolume as their instruments.

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When I texted you asking to do this interview, a couple of days went by before you answered saying “Sorry I didn’t get back to you sooner. I’ve been in VR for most of the past five days.” I couldn’t tell…were you joking?

No, I wasn’t. I spend a lot of time in VR.

What do you do in there?

I’ve been working on making concerts in VR. We’ve done Ash Koosha’s show, Tokimonsta’s show…There’s times I’ll be in VR for 5 hours straight.

When you say you’re doing these live shows in VR, what do you mean?

It’s a new kind of thing. We work with WaveVr to create VR shows. People can tune in from anywhere in the world. Basically, you can tune in and have an avatar with whom you see other people at the show. The musician can have an avatar, I can have an avatar.

It’s a shared experience. It’s like when you go to a real concert with a bunch of people, except they’re avatars. It opens up a ton of possibilities because you’re constructing these worlds from the ground up. Things you simply couldn’t do, or budget for at a real concert. You can have stages that are a mile high and it’s fascinating. You definitely can have a shared experience with people even if you’re in the same place as them physically.

It’s kind of an “Ah-ha moment when you actually experience it because it seems kind of out there otherwise. But we actually have the technology to do those things.

How has VR changed your art?

Basically, once VR arrived, I knew it was the medium I wanted to make audiovisual experiences for where I’m wielding the whole thing. Otherwise, I might make some music or visual shows for artists and that’s a collaborative thing. VR allows me to show more of my own audiovisual work.

We could talk VR for hours, but let’s get into Strangeloop. What was your original vision for it and has it become what you originally hoped it to be?

The basic idea is to make mind-blowing visual shows. Mind expanding art. It was always about trying to pull meaning out of all this chaos that you can discover through video experimentation and experimentation with graphics.

When I started out, the things I was really interested in were very esoteric. Underground stuff. It wasn’t mainstream at all, but now it is. We do shows for artists like The Weeknd. I didn’t foresee it exactly like this. It’s weird to say anything we do is mainstream because I want to be involved in the most esoteric experimentation of video. But it’s cool that we can bring those things to larger audiences with live shows.

When did VJ-ing become your profession? What was it like at first?

I started professionally doing video stuff for shows when I was probably 22. Initially, it was a process of discovery. To me, it was a completely wide open medium that people weren’t treating with the same reverence as cinema. You had people like Pink Floyd or a couple of groups that showed what you could do. Some artists that did their own thing that was really phenomenal and used video well, but it wasn’t the norm.

So I wanted to push it as far as it could go and think of it as something that was completely art. And now I feel like that’s more the norm, to have a visual show to go with the music, especially since the rise of EDM and big electronic music. The DJ’s needed to be able to fill out their presentation and bring people into their world using technology. I kind of got in at that time, where a lot of things were becoming possible. When people began desiring visual stimulation alongside the music.

I would go to those type of EDM shows growing up and I often thought the visuals were cool, but at times they appeared more like decoration than conceptual art. Do you think there’s still a lot of this in the field or are people starting to make live show visuals the way you do, with vision and concept in mind?

That’s a good way of putting it. Traditionally, I think it was an approach to do it decoratively. But now I think artists are realizing we have a universe that we can bring you into it at a show. So there’s a lot more conceptual stuff in there.

There’s still groups where it’s just decorative. But you know, there’s also an argument to be made, that sometimes you don’t want a visual show. Maybe it’s a certain group where it makes sense to focus on them over the visuals. But there is a certain kind of artist that benefits from having a visual component that is an immersive experience that you can be brought into.

Like Flying Lotus?

Yeah, Flying Lotus is great, he takes use of it very well. I love working with him because he’s such a cinematic fellow and is really into all these ideas we can bring into the visual show to sort of take you into his world.

So what’s the difference between how you approach a Flying Lotus show versus how you approach a show for The Weeknd?

I think Steve (Flying Lotus) wants to be embedded in this spectacle, and I think someone like the Weekend wants to go out and be the center of the show. Both are totally viable. Being a backdrop is not always bad. I respect those shows as well when it’s not about us trying to impose our vision. We can be a backdrop, but hopefully be a powerful vessel for what’s going on with the performance as well.

Let’s get into this Flying Lotus 3D Tour. In an interview with Pigeons and Planes, Flying Lotus described the show as a “live jam session” between you and him. How is it that?

When you see the Flying Lotus 3D show, it’s the whole thing, it’s the music, it’s the visuals, everything together. We’re taking the lead from Flying Lotus, but it’s in real time, building the syntax and the architecture of it as we go.

It’s a very natural process. As we play more shows, I start to get used to his material and absorbing it. I just get into the mindset of what he’s doing and eventually, we’ll know every beat of the track and we can match visuals to it. But it’s definitely an organic process. He changes the set all the time, so we need to be in a perceptive place. It’s just I’ve been working with him for so long, it’s rarely a stretch of my imagination. We’ve got to the point where we can read one another.

This is the first time we’ve done a real 3D show. In the past, we did different versions of a 3D show but it was almost fake 3D using multiple screens. Now we’re doing it with real 3D glasses, which I wasn’t interested in at all until I saw this new patented technology that’s not what you see in theaters. It uses a 3D LED wall, you’ll see it tonight, it’s pretty insane.

What do you expect the audience to feel while experiencing the show?

I think it’s very subjective. I hope people enjoy it, the whole thing is a big collaborative effort from a lot of people trying to make something that I think breaks through the noise a bit.

Ultimately, it’s about the ideas and the vibe. It’s a spectacle, but it’s not just about the spectacle. So I hope people walk away having questions, I love imagery where you can’t put your finger on it right away. That’s what I’m always looking for. Stuff where when you see it, part of you is going to wonder, what is that, what am I experiencing.

I want people to walk away, hopefully in awe of some kind. Wondering what they just saw, and wanting to see it again. Because it’s always different. The worse thing would be if you saw it and were like that was okay. Or to feel that you knew exactly what you saw. I want people to be pleasantly baffled.

I’d say that was an apt description for how I felt leaving the show last Tuesday. I was so satisfied I lost all my urge to trick or treat. Maybe next year…Until then, I’ll be keeping an eye out on the projects coming out of Strangeloop Studios and you should too. Speaking of which, check out their most recent work with Micah Nelson’s band, Insects Vs. Robots, whom Wexler collaborated with to create this genius video for the track, “THEYLLKILLYAA.”

Interview: Nai Palm Sees ‘Needle Paw,’ Her Debut Solo Album, as a Gentle Lullaby.

I talk to Nai Palm about her debut solo album, cooking wallaby, Australia, and more.

The late great Prince died with an unfulfilled wish. He adored the soulful quartet Hiatus Kaiyote and before passing, repeatedly asked them to perform live in his home. Unable to overcome logistical roadblocks, the show never materialized. With their genre-bending sound, however, Hiatus Kaiyote has honored and preserved Prince’s musical spirit and intention. The band’s heartbeat and energy are conducted by their lead singer, Nai Palm.

An orphan from Australia, the group’s front-woman sings from a heart pained by loss and tribulation. Nai lost both of her parents before the age of 14, resulting in a childhood of fluctuating homes and families. Detached from the love of kinship she found comfort through nature, writing, and song.

With Needle Paw, Nai’s debut solo album out today, she capitalizes on her opportunity for independent expression. After more than 5 years of releasing music and touring with Hiatus Kaiyote, Nai was ready to hone in and communicate her own vision. She describes Needle Paw as the “skeleton” of a Hiatus Kaiyote album. Stripped down to acoustic guitar and vocals, it’s a chance for listeners to appreciate Nai’s vocal range and ability.

The album is more digestible for the common ear without the layered instrumentation her bandmates bring to Hiatus Kaiyote. It’s simplicity, though, doesn’t take away from its impact. In today’s frantic world, sometimes all you need is a “gentle lullaby,” as Nai says below.

I had the chance to catch up with her in the midst of the Needle Paw North American tour, just two days before the album’s release. She hadn’t eaten breakfast yet, but as I call, she’s about to.

Let’s get right into it, I know you’re super busy. 

Well, I’m more just like, at a diner. The busyness is going to be me fitting heaps of food into my mouth.

Haha. Do you think Australian breakfast is better than American breakfast?

Our breakfast shits on your breakfast, hahaha.

Agreed, I noticed that while studying in Sydney this year. Speaking of food, you’re music and style is super cultured. Do you cook? I feel like you’d make some crazy multi-cultured shit in the kitchen. 

Yeah, I like cooking! My favorite thing to cook is wallaby, which is like a way cuter Kangaroo. You cook it in coconut oil with like sage, agave nector, paprika, garlic and it’s really yum.

And I love cooking with beet juice because I’m an improv cooker and I love color. I feel like if your food is too beige you’ll end up pretty fucked up. And I always cook with honey, because I’m obsessed with it.

I watched your interview with EricTheYoungGod, and you guys talked about why Hiatus Kaiyote may be more popular in the states than in Australia. I was in Melbourne this year and I was introduced to these fantastic soul groups coming out of the city like 30/70 and The Do Ya Thangs. To me, the city seemed like an up and coming epicenter of neo-soul. I was wondering if you noticed this too and how much this rise has to do with the city of Melbourne and or, Hiatus’ success? 

There wasn’t much of a scene for that shit when we (Hiatus Kaiyote) started out…and there is now.

Hiatus came up through house parties and jam parties with people playing lots of different styles. There was like a beat maker scene and then there was us, and no one really knew what to do with it because we performed in a live format.

All the heads that were into Dilla and shit we’re all just kinda making your Low End Theory kinda joints, ya know?

As far as those bands you mentioned, they are a couple years after Hiatus. It’s kind of weird I keep getting associated with them because we’ve been touring internationally for like 5 years, so this little soul scene that’s popped up there…I don’t really feel that connected to because it wasn’t there when I was around.

Got that. When I listen to those groups I definitely hear Hiatus’ influence. When I listen to you sing, in particular, it’s crazy, I feel like I can hear the influence of where you grew up. It’s so natural but at the same time, urban and hip. How did growing up in contrasting environments, a city, and nature, influence your work? 

I lived in a place called Mount Beauty which is more like an alpine valley. It’s very green and filled with rivers and mountains…I think it’s important for people to be exposed to lots of different ways of living and cultures, and of course, that’s going to influence you creatively.

If you just like go to the same place and eat the same thing all the time and then go to create…Humans are like sponges you know, we’re the byproducts of our environments and the more you expose yourself to eclectic living, the better you are.

It seems like you’re influenced by your dreams, you got your permanent gold tooth because of a recurring dream right? Is there a really vivid or crazy dream that you can recall that inspired any of the songs on Needle Paw or any Hiatus songs?

Yeah, it’s actually related to the teeth thing. The “World it Softly Lulls” was a reccruing dream I had a lot when I was younger and before my 25th birthday, I had it again, which is when I got my gold tooth.

In the dream, I woke up in a hospital room and all my teeth were silver and there was this massive colored glass wall where all the images were moving and my finger’s get hot, and then lightning comes out of my fingers and shatters the glass and the pieces move past me in slow motion.

The rest of the dream, I’m on the top of a skyscraper playing with lightning and my teeth are conducting the electricity and its really, really, um…fun. It’s something that I’ve dreamt about a lot.

So Needle Paw, your debut solo album, is coming out in just two days. What are your emotions like right now? Nervous, excited? 

I’m just really proud of it and I think it’ll help people. It’s helped me. It’s not an egotistical album, it’s an offering, a sanctuary for people because the world is kind of fucked up and sometimes you need to put on a record that’s like a gentle lullaby.

When I first finished the record I kind of forgot about the whole release thing. For me the release was having it completed and to be like I’ve done this, it was a milestone… It was a fucking crazy challenge. I had a hectic year. I really bled for that album, so it’s really humbling that it’s going to do what it needs to do for other people in the same way it did for me.

How would you describe the album? How is it different than what you do with Hiatus, how is it similar? 

It’s like when I write a song and bring it to the band. I wanted people to see the skeleton of the ideas and the power of the intention in that. Its kind of like the skeleton of our weird voltron magic beats that we make.

Also, sometimes with Hiatus, I put a lot of effort into to my vocal arrangements and sometimes it gets a little bit buried in the mix when you have a lot of other shit…so I just wanted to really celebrate and showcase that, and the other singers that sing with us in Hiatus because they’re a part of the story too. It’s kind of like a journal, with people I really love on the record. It’s very simple and not overstated, but there’s power in that.

You’ve been posting singles to your Instagram with the album artwork for Needle Paw. It has a very cultural, eclectic aesthetic, similar to your music. What can you tell me about the artwork? 

I found a really amazing artist. Her name is Jowy, iseejowy on Instagram. I just started following her work and I loved how deeply, spiritually feminine and punk it was, it’s like elegant and fierce at the same time.

Being in an industry saturated by men, being in a band with 3 other dudes who are the most emotionally centered people I know…I just wanted something that was very effeminate, but not in a polite, western conception of that. I wanted something that was really evocative and powerful. Jowy’s work really resonated with me so we started following each other, started chatting, and then she drew a series of portraits of me and I had a Skype with her. I feel like I’ve met another member of my global family.

Before I let you go, you’ve traveled everywhere. This a music blog for the people of Austin, so I was wondering what you thought about Austin compared to other places you’ve been and performed? 

Well, I’ve only really played there during SXSW so it’s usually a cluster-fuck. But Austin is a cool city, there’s good vintage, bars, and barbecue.

I don’t know if SXSW is the truest representation of a typical Austin audience, but I remember someone was burning palo santo in the audience, that was a beautiful moment that I remember from Austin.

 

BROCKHAMPTON is Pioneering a Shift in Internet Behavior


BROCKHAMPTON is changing the way young people use the internet.

The rap-group/boyband/collective, met online, and use the digital realm as a forum for honest self-expression and connection. This type of behavior is difficult in today’s hyper-social era where users curate their online personas to maintain omni-positive perceptions.

But that kind of utopian life is unattainable, and BROCKHAMPTON wants to show people that that’s okay.

“Accepted. It’s OK to be insecure,” rapper Ameer Vann said in an interview with DAZED when asked what he wants people to feel when they listen to BROCKHAMPTON. “It’s OK to have vulnerabilities and to learn from your mistakes, and just keep growing.”

BROCKHAMPTON’s core members met on Kanye2The, the Reddit page for Kanye West fans. Since then, they’ve used their online community to find solace in their struggles. Kevin Abstract, the group’s brainchild, openly expresses his sexuality on tracks and videos. Rapper, Dom Mclennon, wrote an open letter about his struggles with self-harm, and shared it online along with a link to an anonymous chat room for self-harm victims.

Burdened by insecurity, they turned to the web to find people to connect with. There, they formed a community that facilitates each other’s passions and supports their vulnerabilities. This manifests into music that drips with blunt self-expression and honesty.

This display is important because the internet is often a place where differences are exacerbated more than they’re accepted. With so many lives to measure up with and compare to, we’re pressured to adopt curated personas when our individuality fails to fit in. Self has been annihilated by like-fueled empowerment.

With their success using the internet as a platform for vulnerability, BROCKHAMPTON has shifted youth culture. They’ve become a living example that having an online presence shouldn’t automatically compromise the authenticity of your expression there.

The impact BROCKHAMPTON is having on fans was evident at their sold-out “Jennifer’s Tour” show in Austin this month.  Hundreds of fans, all young, and of every creed and color, lined up hours before the show to celebrate their individuality with those who are helping them find it, their favorite American boy-band.

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“Anyone with a computer can be huge,” a 15-year-old fan named Mason (pictured above) said to me. “If they can do it, you can fucking do it.”

A few moments later I spoke with a group of friends who met on their University of Texas class page after one asked who was going to the show that night. Amongst them was Yesmine, who said,“it’s a good reminder to always express yourself, even if at first people are unsure how to react, you still have to stand tall and keep pushing.”

These fans were just a small microcosm of the movement BROCKHAMPTON has sparked. It’s one made up of those who now see the internet as a tool for self-exploration and a platform to connect with others who share their interests.

Like BROCKHAMPTON, these people are teaming together after meeting online. The 17-year-old musician, Jelani Aryeh, started his art collective, “Raised By The Internet,” after linking with 20 other creatives on BROCKHAMPTON’s Reddit fan forum. Aryeh’s solo debut EP, “Suburban Destinesia,” explores many themes that BROCKHAMPTON’s projects do, namely the struggle of overcoming self-doubt and social alienation.

Nearly everyday a new thread on BROCKHAMPTON’s Reddit is made by a passionate individual seeking like-minded people to create new things with.

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For fun, I decided to respond to one of the thread’s a few months back asking BROCKHAMPTON fan’s where they live. After saying Austin, I received this amusing response:

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While this answer was probably a joke, it speaks to the evolved perception many BROCKHAMPTON fans now have for the internet. It can be a place that facilitates passions through connections amongst those whose only resource is their internet access.

Tomorrow, if I wanted to, I could discuss plans to form a band with someone I met online as we both munch on Honey Butter Chicken Biscuits at Whataburger. What a world.

In the words of the great Merlyn Wood, “I NEED A HONEY BUTTA!”