Even though metal still loves to hail itself as an underground genre that can’t be understood by outsiders, your average in-the-know music fan in 2018 (basically, anyone who’s reading this on Noisey) understands the simple baked-in differences between types of headbangers. Lamb of God fan? Sweaty cinderblock of a person in camo cut-offs with a black belt in mosh karate. Emperor fan? Ebony-drenched misanthrope with a wry sense of humor and a nuanced concept of Satan. High On Fire fan? Cackling mop.
But ask even the most scene-entrenched metalhead who’s going to see Seether in 2018, and they’ll be stumped. At best, you’ll get surprise: Are they still touring? Wow. Good for them, I guess.
As underground metal champions like Slayer and Behemoth rise in acclaim and finally get to headline arenas, bands who play the groovy, listenable hard rock of the late 90s and early 2000s have formed their own self-sustaining underground. But while these bands continue to utilize the momentum they gained during that turn-of-the-century heyday, their longevity is based on the same principles as that of ear-blisterers as Cannibal Corpse—non-stop touring, fearsome dedication to their fans, and down-to-earth musicianship.
Turn-of-the-century hard rock’s origin story is a strange confluence of outside factors. Around the mid-to-late 90s, headbangers who were exhausted by how twangy and whiny latter-day grunge was becoming were looking for something heavier…but they weren’t ready to return to heavy metal, a loaded genre which at that point had split into irrelevant glam and ultra-anatomical death metal (black metal was still like Ethiopian food then—you’d read an article about it, but no one actually listened to it). Rap metal was coming into existence, but felt too acerbic for the flannel-clad rockers who preferred the Vinnie Paul side of Pantera.
But bands like Godsmack, Stone Temple Pilots, and Creed laid soulful vocals over big, swingin’ riffs that satisfied rockers without alienating them. Thus, this particular strain of post-grunge, aggro hard rock emerged as a genre that typical hetero chuds could punch the steering wheel to without feeling like a total caveman.
But turn-of-the-century rock’s cozy nook in the middle ground was also its doom. As the new millennium was kickstarted by the destruction of the World Trade Center (and, it should be noted, the release of the first good Slayer record in years), fans realized they didn’t want to just enjoy safe music that took no sides. Meanwhile, younger listeners raised on 90s hard rock wanted tougher shit, and moved onto melodic-yet-brutal metalcore acts like Killswitch Engage and Unearth, which became gateway drugs to genre-specific acts like Iron Maiden and Carcass. Hard rock was left in the dust.
Plenty of metalheads might respond with, “Good riddance,” and I get that. Fans of extreme metal didn’t get the time of day back in that era; major publications that now obsess over Ghost wanted nothing to do with metal when there was Adema to write about. But, while plenty of hard rock bands threw in the towel when their spotlight went out, a few did what extreme metal bands have done for ages: worked their asses off.
“I’ve been in this band for 15 years, and it’s been album, tour, album, tour,” says John Humphrey, drummer of Seether. Since forming in South Africa in 1999, Seether has churned out seven studio albums featuring countless radio hits, perhaps their most recognizable being “Remedy” from 2005’s Karma and Effect. While the radio’s receptiveness to their grunge-meets-groove metal sound has aided them, though, Humphrey insists the band’s road-dog mentality is what kept them alive. “We’ve been very fortunate with radio support, but our core audience was built by doing what we do today: going overseas, winning fans over live. A lot of our peers have taken hiatuses, where they’ve taken time off, which might be why they’ve called it quits.”
Musically, Seether are certainly easier to swallow than, say, Origin, but their music still goes hard in the paint; this year’s Poison The Parish is loaded with bangers that could easily play over the PA at a major European metal festival like Wacken. For Humphrey, remaining loud and angry is important—but it’s only one side of the coin. “The dark side, and the emotional side that tends to be Shaun’s lyrics—people connect with that,” he says. “Because that’s human nature. But there’s a fun side to things, too. We refuse to be one-sided. We try to carry all aspects of human history and emotion.
Though romantic warrior-poetry is this kind of hard rock’s bread and butter, plenty of the era’s bands went darker, leaning more towards the haunted doll eeriness of Coal Chamber or the bombastic monster rock of my lord and savior Rob Zombie. And while those artists may not occupy the same space as an act like Seether, they soldier onward, fueled by the old ringmaster’s mantra: The show must go on.
“I think some people just lose drive,” Wednesday 13 tells me when I call him. As the former frontman of Slipknot side project Murderdolls, 13 has become a genre staple, playing overdriven horror rock to weirdos in greasepaint for almost 20 years. “People don’t see it, but [this business] is a lot of work. It’s a lot of not seeing your family. Maybe it was never in their soul, to do it for the rest of their lives. But for me, this is all I know, this is all I’m really good at. And while I know it’s unique, it’s what keeps me alive.”
This single-minded sense of purpose has sent 13 all over the world, playing for audiences in countries like Australia and Russia—and if you don’t know what an average US Wednesday 13 audience looks like, you’ve got to wonder what the hell a Moscow Wednesday 13 audience looks like. “I had the same question too, before our first show!” he says with a laugh. “I’m an 80s kid, growing up on Red Dawn and Rambo—I didn’t even know if our record was out there! But we came out that first show, and we had kids in the front row singing along, girls crying. It was so cool.”
While the continued determination of acts like Seether and Wednesday 13 are admirable, when the day is over, these bands made their name back in the day, and have just kept churning away—but what about young acts within post-90s hard rock? Who is out there trying to keep the hard rock torch lit in 2018, just for the satisfaction of doing so?
“We’ve always liked music that’s powerful and beautiful,” says Ben Flanagan, frontman and bassist of San Francisco’s Black Map. Formed in 2013, the band plays a form of emotional hard rock with progressive elements that fans will immediately recognize for its kinship with early-Aughts acts like Deftones and Chevelle. “And over the course of a record, or an EP, we don’t want to sound like one thing. It bores us. There was never a conversation, and there still hasn’t been, about what we should sound like, or following any trend.”
For Flanagan, the turn-of-the-century hard rock sound is simply what satisfies him—“The heavy always felt good to us”—but real talk, we’re all music fans here: does it ever feel weird playing new hard rock in 2018? Does Black Map ever get shit for playing a seemingly safe genre in an unsafe time?
Flanagan chuckles. “If they’ve said that, they haven’t said it to my face. I wouldn’t respond well to that. If you don’t like our band, there’s plenty of other music to listen to.”
This is perhaps the most endearing aspect of the hard rock bands who refuse to give up in 2018: they really love it. There’s no rock-star bluster, but instead a constant self-awareness of how lucky they are to get to make this sort of music for people. Maybe it’s no longer the most popular shit out there, but to them, this level of chugging not-quite-metal remains as exciting as ever, and while other “classic” hard rockers have lost sight of that (and suffered—let’s never forget Orgy’s ultra-thirsty crowdfunding disaster), these lifers seem happy to be here. They’ll play on whatever stage you send them to.
“We rehearse at a hole-in-the-wall space in Nashville,” says Seether’s John Humphrey. “On the road, I’m fortunate, I have a crew. But there, I set up my own drums in the practice room, and I play my shit. Same way I did when I was 14.”
Chris Krovatin is missing his K-Rock days on Instagram .
Since the dawn of time, humans have created instruments in their attempts to express the human condition through the medium of sound, and most of them have sucked ass. There are hundreds and hundreds of instruments, each more useless than the last. Does the world need so many instruments? We submit that it does not. In an attempt to weed out the bad ones we’ve compiled this list of the 69 worst ones. (Also, we didn't list 69 to be funny, it's just the way it shook out. Speaking of shaking out, maracas suck, also.)
69. Flying V Guitar
The Rob Schneider of guitars.
68. Bassoon
This looks like a flute with its shoelaces untied.
67. Steel Drum
Goes to Margaritaville once…
66. Vuvuzela
Imagine how lame you’d have to be to get banned from soccer.
65. Bagpipes
More like buttpipes.
64. Fugazi’s Instrument
Doesn’t even have “Waiting Room” on it.
63. Xylophone
The only thing a xylophone is good for is using the X in Scrabble.
62. Trombone
Ska instrument. Disqualified.
61. Trumpet
Ska instrument. Disqualified.
60. Texas Instruments
Worse than a regular calculator because you can’t even write BOOBIES upside-down with all this graph nerd shit in the way.
59. Violin
The favorite instrument of the 1%. The violin has definitely called the cops on a cookout before.
58. Fiddle
The violin’s red state cousin who posts a bunch of MAGA shit on Facebook.
57. The Long Guitar
It’s bigger and has fewer strings. What dumBASS invented that?
56. The Beeping That Goes Off in the VICE Office Every Five Fucking Minutes
WHERE IS IT COMING FROM? JASON, IF THIS IS COMING FROM YOUR COMPUTER WE WILL REPORT YOUR ASS TO HR.
55. Glockenspiel
How can something that starts with “glock” be so lame?
54. Speak & Spell
The glockenspiel for kids.
53. Triangle
The default instrument for band kids desperate for extracurriculars on their college applications.
52. Tambourine
Like if someone glued a bunch of triangles together.
51. Bugle
An instrument named after a brand of corn chip that causes anal leakage.
50. Shofar
Pros: Brought down the walls of Jericho Cons: Not responsible for even one banger
49. The Drum
Jesus shoulda beat the little drummer boy’s ass for bringing this as a gift.
48. Double Guitar
So you can annoy twice as many people at Guitar Center.
47. Lute
You’re not gonna get laid at Ren Faire, dude.
46. Stethoscope
Cold as fuck.
45. Cello
I love this instrument and its curvy body. As a teenager, I was often teased by my friends for my attraction to instruments on the thicker side, ones who were shorter and curvier, instruments that the average (basic) bro might refer to as "chubby" or even "fat." Then, as I became a man and started to educate myself on issues such as feminism and how the media marginalizes instruments by portraying a very narrow and very specific standard of beauty (thin, tall, lean) I realized how many music fans have bought into that lie.
45. Clarinet
It sure does blow!
44. Flute
It sure does blow!
43. Piccolo
It sure does blow!
42. Basset Horn
It sure does blow!
41. Kazoo
It sure does blow!
40. Saxophone
More like sexophone. Just kidding, it sure does blow!
39. Sackbut
Is that really the name of this thing? Good lord.
38. Oboe
The oboe? More like the oh-no.
37. Ukulele
Pukelele.
36. Marimba
Every motherfucker who heard that Midori Takada album on YouTube thinks they can play malleted percussion now.
35. Singing Saw
Cool instruments don’t come from Home Depot.
34. Drum Machine
Actually drum machines are kinda cool because they put a lot of drum nerds out of work.
33. 808 Cowbell
Only good use is when this kid ate raw pasta as the sample played.
32. Accordion
Look at this shit.
31. CDJs
Objectively not an instrument.
30. Fife
No one wants to hear you play the fife, dawg.
29. Harp
The herpes of music. Harpes.
28. Voice
Yeah, you could use it to hit a wide range of notes or you could use it to shut daaa fuk up.
27. Banjo
We’ve seen Deliverance.
26. Björk
We wish it was oh so quiet.
25. Harmonica
Nothing cooler than looking like you’re wearing orthodontic headgear.
24. Saxophone
Pretty sure we already listed this one but fuck this Lisa Simpson-ass instrument.
23. Tuba
Who named this? Did you see it one day and say, “Looks like a tube… UH?” Pathetic.
22. Bazooka
Doesn’t blow anything up.
21. Spoons
These are for eating.
20. Tuning fork
Also for eating.
19. Pitch Pipe
Can’t even smoke out of it.
18. Sheet Music
Just a bunch of paper.
17. Stradivarius
Some inbred family made a fancy fiddle and we’re supposed to give a shit?
16. Wah Pedal
15. The Large Piano from the Movie BIG
Wow, Robert Loggia stepped on you, join the club.
14. Microphone
The go-to instrument for lame white rappers.
13. The Sound of Everyone’s Amber Alert Going Off at Once
9. Those Stupid Farting Mufflers on Fast & the Furious-looking Cars
Vin Diesel is rolling over in his grave.
8. Piano
How about don’t play me a song, Piano Man.
7. Organ
Like if a piano was a virgin for religious reasons.
6. Hands
Ayyy we got your sound of one hand clapping right here! [We were gonna put the jackoff motion here but then we had a long, productive discussion about using gendered language like that and decided against it, in our small attempt at resisting the heteronormative language that’s become pervasive online]
5. Keytar
The only good part about playing the piano was sitting down and some idiot ruined it.
4. Crash Cymbal
Wow some genius had the brilliant idea to smash two instruments together, congrats.
To have grown up in Los Angeles in the 90s is to have, lurking somewhere in your freeway-particulate-addled pate, the music of Warren G. Those beats and rhymes didn’t have to be drilled in; they’ve been there since birth, because G-funk is a foundational building block in all of our genetic codes. A small part of Warren G lays in wait inside of us, quiet and smooth as he is, ready to spring into action at the first hint of Michael McDonald’s “I Keep Forgetting,” the ur-text for his “Regulate.” But reducing the Long Beach native’s career to his biggest hit does him––and my genes––a disservice.
Although it was irresistible, “Regulate”—the lead single from Warren G’s 1994 debut, Regulate...G Funk Era—was an exception. Suge Knight, miffed that he’d let Dr. Dre’s kid stepbrother slip into the clutches of Def Jam, refused to allow Death Row artists to collaborate with Warren G. Knight’s dictum meant that Snoop Dogg and Nate Dogg––Warren’s best friends since early childhood and two-thirds of their LBC rap group 213––were almost entirely absent from his album. It was a cruel, petty gesture from a man who willingly specialized in them––but it didn’t thwart the fresh-faced Warren G. Aided by a cast of young, largely unknown Long Beach rappers (and the popularity of he, Nate Dogg, and Mista Grimm’s “Indo Smoke” from the Poetic Justice soundtrack), Regulate… went triple platinum.
With previously unseen footage and appearances by G-funk luminaries like Snoop Dogg, Too $hort, and Ice Cube (and Deion Sanders), Warren G’s new documentary, G-Funk—out today on YouTube Premium— attempts to explain the early-mid 90s hip-hop zeitgeist at which he was the center. In situating Regulate… as the logical successor to Dr. Dre’s The Chronic and Snoop Dogg’s Doggystyle, the documentary presents a clear, accessible storyline about each album’s creation and cultural import, and correctly argues that Warren G deserves critical recognition. That triptych of albums, along with DJ Quik’s Safe + Sound, are essential to understanding a metropolitan area in the throes of polarizing violence and racial tensions.
As the 90s passed into the 00s, “Funky Worm” wail and Parliament-Funkadelic samples went out of vogue. Scores of Warren G’s peers fell by the wayside, but he continued to progress as a musician. With songs like “Annie Mae,” “I Want It All,” and the subtle, soulful “I Need A Light,” Warren G retained the melodic, breezy qualities of G-funk without falling prey to atavism and nostalgia. But, because he never appeared to embrace solo stardom to the degree that fellow rapper-producers DJ Quik and Dr. Dre did, Warren G’s robust discography remains critically under-appreciated.
Though it’s been nearly a decade since his last full-length album, 2009’s The G Files, Warren G is comfortable and unhurried. Middle age is treating him kindly: He’s a father of four, with a passion for barbecuing and smoking meats, and he shows up to our interview a tad stoned in the harmless, hardly perceptible way cool dads seem to get stoned. And although he’s on a press run for the documentary, and he’s being cajoled by two separate publicists, and it’s an apocalyptically hot day in Los Angeles, he’s dressed in olive-colored pants and a matching camouflage hoodie––and a bead of sweat never crosses his unblemished brow. Warren’s childhood nickname is every ounce the truth: He really is Sir Cool.
Noisey: What was the electro, pre-NWA era like for you? Was it big in Long Beach? Warren G: Herbie Hancock, he was kinda electric, you had Julio G and the Mixmasters at [seminal LA hip-hop station] KDAY. That the poppin and lockin era [ pauses to do some rudimentary dance moves]. It was big everywhere; that whole era was huge. Those parties were huge, that’s where you were sweating. That’s when people were really getting their dance on.
Photo by Allen Chiu
How did you become aware of rap? Was it through Sugarhill Records stuff, or did you access it through electro? It was both. You had guys Afrika Bambaataa and “Planet Rock”––it was hip-hop but it was electric, too. Like you said, Sugarhill Gang, Treacherous Three, Ultramagnetic MCs, Jimmy Spicer, Kool Moe Dee, Kool Herc, LA Dream Team, Ice-T...man...Fat Boys, Beastie Boys, Run-DMC, Captain Rapp that was out of Long Beach––
––That was the first LA rap single, right? My buddy was involved in that! Money B, who helped us do our first 213 demo.
Were you still calling yourself Sir Cool when you made the demo? Nah, I was called, uh…[ pauses before laughing loudly] It was Snoop Dogg and Woodstock! Sir Cool was my name for a long time, man. That’s still one of my nicknames. I had a jacket that said “O.G. Sir Cool” way back when––shit, I wasn’t nothin’ but 10, 11 years old, but I called myself a “G.”
"Shit, I wasn’t nothin’ but 10, 11 years old, but I called myself a 'G.'"
I’ve heard a couple songs from the demo. Can you describe the process? We did it in my buddy Money B’s mother’s room. They had a one or two bedroom apartment, and we was in her room. She used to get so mad. Like, he was getting in a lot of trouble but we were still going in there recording. What we would do is, he had a little four-track or eight-track recorder. We’d put the beat on there and hit record.
I saw in the documentary that you and Snoop would see each other across a playground on your way to elementary school. Do you remember your first impressions of him? Me and my sister Mitsy would play Asteroids and then go to school and, y’know, we’d walk through the park and [Snoop and I] would bump heads. Jerry, Snoop’s brother, was my best friend back then. Then me and Snoop ended up being best friends––but both of ‘em was my dawgs. Me and Snoop ended up super best friends. He was funny [ laughs]. We used to call it “bagging”––he bagged on everybody, no matter who it was.
One of the things that’s notable about the 213 demo is that it’s basically pre-G-funk, and it doesn’t have the sway or “Funky Worm”-style wail. What was inspiring your production at the time? I just wanted to make good, feel-good music. I was inspired by everything that was going on: N.W.A., Eazy-E, J.J. Fad, Ice Cube, 415, DJ Quik. All those people were inspiring us. Shit, we was like, “Shit, if Quik can do it, we can do it.” He got a mixtape out and that circulated and got to us, so we did 213.
You got passed over by Suge, and in the documentary it’s portrayed as being a shocking and devastating moment. In the long run do you think that was for the better? Definitely. It was like a blessing. And for Dre to say, “Go be your own man and create your own lane,” it was definitely a blessing. He might’ve seen some shit I couldn’t see because I was so young. My thing is this: I ain’t got nothin’ against Suge Knight. I wanted to be down with my guys that I started with, but I was like, “It’s cool, I’m gonna do what I gotta do.” It hurted. But I had to do what I had to do.
"I ain’t trippin, I ain’t mad, and I ain’t bitter––and never will be."
Where we come from, if you’re down with somebody, you’re ride or die wit’ ‘em, so that’s just the way I was. It had felt kinda funny to be willing to put my all on the line, and I’m giving up 95 and only getting 5 back. I ain’t trippin, I ain’t mad, and I ain’t bitter––and never will be. And I still love Dre, Snoop, them is my brothers. If I have to call anybody, I’ll call them.
I have two very specific questions about The Chronic. First: do you know who the kid is in the “Nuthin But A G Thang” video is? That’s my homeboy Dewayne’s son. That’s Lil’ ‘Wayne. He graduated college with an engineering degree from Arizona State. He’s doing stuff out there in Arizona.
Photo by Allen Chiu
Second: Who did you call in the “Deeez Nuuuts” skit? Oh my god, that was my homegirl––god damn, you done messed me up––it’s right on the tip of my tongue. She’s gonna kill me. That was my homegirl, I called her, and what’s so crazy is I was trying to get at her. Like this was a real conversation. I told Dre to turn on the mic and said ‘I’m fixin’ to call this girl.’ ‘Cuz I was trying to get at her at the time, so I called her on the phone and asked ‘What you doin’ today?’ ‘Oh, gettin’ my nail done?’ ‘Is that right? Okay. Did what’s his name get at you?’ ‘Who?’ ‘Deeez nuuuts.’ [Laughs uproariously]
And we had some Rudy Ray Moore records we was listening to that and, Rudy Ray Moore said the perfect line: "If I had some nuts on my chin…" you know what I’m sayin’? "Hell naw, you’d have a dick in your mouth." We just did [the skit], just being creative. I did "1-900-2-Compton" on the N.W.A. album Efil4Zaggin, too.
In the documentary there’s a sense of destiny with The Chronic ––you knew it was going to be big––but did you have the same feeling during the Doggystyle sessions? Yeah, definitely. Just from the music I was hearing. You had one of the best producers working on it, and everything that was coming out of it––the sound was so crispy, so clean and clear and original. That was that shit.
Coincidentally, when I turned my car to come to the interview the first thing I heard was your verse on “Ain’t No Fun” on KDAY. What can you tell me about that song? Well, I walked in on that session. They was already recording the record when I walked in and when I heard it I was like [affects a tone of childlike wonderment], "Can I get on this?" They was like, "Go ‘head write a verse." And, shit, I went right in the vocal booth and wrote that motherfucker. And I start that off with, "Whoo, hey, now ya’ know / inhale exhale with my flow / one for the money, two for the bitches, three to get ready, and four to hit the switches." That was my style right there, that I learnt listening to a lot of old school hip-hop.
After that you began doing your own thing, and I was curious as to how you found Mista Grimm, since he’s from West Covina. We was at a open mic type of thing. I met him there. We just clicked, and I was pretty much on my own, just doing my thin, looking for artists to do records with. I said, "Let’s do a record together." That’s what brought on "Indo Smoke."
When you were making it did you think it was a hit? I knew it sounded good. That was my whole thing; it sounded good, it felt good. A lot of those records, I’d get goosebumps just like, "Damn, I got that feeling, I got that vibe. This is my shit." That’s when you know it’s a good record.
I was just listening to Drake’s record when it came out. I like the song "8 Out of 10." Every record I hear, I usually call the single. I really think that could be his next single. That’s a pretty dope record. Either that or "Emotionless." Guaranteed. I heard Kendrick’s record––[ sings] "Bitch don’t kill my vibe"––[and said] that’s the one. Cuz you get that feeling. "This is it."
"That was my whole thing; it sounded good, it felt good."
I also wanted to ask you about Jah Skillz and The Twinz. The Twinz was from Long Beach and they rapped. I brought ‘em along with me and said, "Let’s Go." And Jah Skillz, I met her [while] she was going to Long Beach State. I used to go up to Long Beach State all the time to parties. She was like, "I could rap," so I said "Bust." I’m sitting up there in the 600 Benz with the top back and she busts right there. I said, "You know what? I want you on my album." We’ve been tight ever since. And she’s still dope. Guaranteed she’s dope, dope, dope. I’m gonna get her on some new shit.
As the 90s progressed, your sound evolved. Were you consciously evolving the G-funk sound to match the times, or was that something you’d have undertaken no matter what? It would’ve been undertaken no matter what. It was straight good feelin’ music. "Where rhythm is life and life is rhythm." Some of the records we had, I’d use some of the bass lines. I can’t remember what it’s called––it’s from the Moog––we’ll call it the "Farty" [impersonates a heavy bass sound] wahh wahh wahh wahh. We incorporated some of those sounds into our music along with live instrumentation.
Photo by Allen Chiu
Did you feel responsible for preserving G-funk? Yeah, I could say that. Well Above the Law is who put me on. They was the first guys to start with G-funk. They took me in as a young kid and I was part of G-funk then. But what I did when their situation started fading out with Ruthless [Records] and it wasn’t happening no more, I kept it alive and took it and made it worldwide. And Dre and Snoop––they’re G-funk, too.
You eventually did get to do the 213 record–– ––I know what you gon’ ask me.
––What? ––How come I didn’t produce nothin’ on it?
––I wasn’t gonna ask you that, but why didn’t you produce anything on it? I have no idea. I guess Snoop wanted to work with all these other producers so I said, "It’s all good." The shit we did was dope. I’m not gonna lie. We need to re-release that ‘cuz nobody really got a chance to soak into it.
"Right now that [213] album would tear everything that’s out right now. It’s real, and everybody can relate to it."
I grew up in LA and I remember the 213 album coming out and hearing it, but I don’t know if it’s had the same resonance that it should. Right now that album would tear everything that’s out right now. It’s real, and everybody can relate to it.
Was it a relief to do that album? Yeah, it was a relief to get in there. That was some of the funnest times of my life. Because we did it up in Diamond Bar. Snoop had a whole, two-story house that we had made into a studio in the upstairs. It was some of the most fun I had recording throughout my journey in this hip-hop shit. It was so cool because we had a kitchen; we’d be cooking, sometimes we barbecuing, sometimes making chicken, everything. Just eatin’, having a good time, a lot of friends over, people downstairs playing cards. We upstairs working. It was nice and fun.
Photo by Allen Chiu
I know you cook, but did Snoop and Nate cook? Yeah! Snoop could fry the shit out of some chicken wings! And pork chops! He make some of the best pork chops in the game. That motherfucker will throw a whole pound of bacon and fry that shit up with the chicken. Snoop crazy.
What can you tell me about your catering company, Sniffin’ Griffin’s? It’s bite through. Music and food go together; listening to some good music and eating some good food is the best shit ever. I just like to barbecue. I’ve always wanted to do it. Even when we was on the spot, watching my parents do it as a kid. It just stuck with me.
A lot of guys who do it use those thermometers––I know how to cook my food where I don’t need none of that shit. I do it off of feeling. The temperature tells a lot––my ribs, I do those between 225 and 275 if I wanna go hot and fast––and I’ll get my damper to where it’s solid and holds temperature. Just keep feeding it after that.
I’ve always been doing it, but I did it on a regular pit, just with charcoal. I was heavy into wood, but I was using wood chunks and I’d throw that onto charcoal. Now it’s straight wood into a real smoker. I got a cabinet smoker with vertical vaults and a Santa Maria Grill.
I’ve read that you feel like In The Mid-Nite Hour is under-appreciated. I ain’t never said "under-appreciated," but I think that it was one of the dopest records that I produced. It just didn't have the machine that I Want It All and Regulate...G-Funk Era had. I was dealing with an independent company that had never ventured into hip-hop, so they didn’t really know how to tap in with the right people to get it out there. I could re-release that right now and that shit would eat a lot of shit up right now. Hopefully, once the new generation learns who I am, they’ll dig into the albums.
In The Mid-Nite Hour is a more soulful, reflective record. What caused you to make that record at that time? Just trying to make a dope record. Just trying to show how far I advanced production-wise. A lot of stuff on there, I was more hands on. I played on that record. On the song "In The Mid-Nite Hour," I was in the studio alone, on a Friday night, everybody’s out partying. I’m in there just working. Nate called and said, "Where you at?" I said, "I’m at the studio." It’s just me and the engineer. He said, "I’mma come up." He came by himself. I was in there listening to the beat [hums the bassline] And he just came in that motherfucker with "In the midnight hour ay-ay-ay, in the midnight hour."
"Artists of today, you gotta coach them on what to do. [Nate] just knew what to do. And he was just so talented. Whatever the concept was, he’d make it bigger."
What do you miss most about Nate? Being in the studio. When I make some music, just him knowing what to do. Artists of today, you gotta coach them on what to do. He just knew what to do. And he was just so talented. Whatever the concept was, he’d make it bigger. Whatever you’re talking about, he’d make the hook. And him just being with us, chillin’.
In the documentary, there’s a lot of archival footage, a lot of which is of Nate Dogg. Is there stuff you hadn’t seen until recently? Nah, I had a guy with me who’d film everywhere I went. His name’s James. And I’d just pay him to follow me and film. I took him overseas, took him around the shit we was doing, so I got at him to get the footage. He still had it––and the motherfucker charged me again. How you gon’ charge me when I already paid your funky ass? Shit. I was pissed off. But I could’ve went to a lawyer, ‘cuz I got all the paycheck stubs. I could’ve went into the court and said, "I want all my motherfucking footage." But I didn’t do that. I looked out for him still.
Photo by Allen Chiu
How did it feel rewatching all that old footage? It brought back a lot of good memories of me, Snoop, Nate, The Twinz, Da 5 Footaz, everybody that was around then. Being the age I am now, looking back it felt good, like, "Damn, I was a good looking guy." [Laughs] I see why all the ladies was in love. I wonder, when my kids really get into me…they just look at me like I’m dad. They don’t even know the history.
Do your kids know you as a rapper and producer? Or just as a dad? Mhmm. They think I’m mean. I ain’t gon’ lie. I ain’t mean. The way I was brought up, I gotta instill in them some type of morals. That’s what’s wrong with the kids today: No morals. They think it’s mean. I tell ‘em, "Look, when you get my age you’ll understand everything I’ve been trying to tell you. You’ll get when you have your responsibilities. You’ll dig it."
"It ain’t gon’ never change. That’s why I’m still doing it. I love it and it feels good to do good music."
Are there new rappers that you listen to? Savii3rd, Kendrick, YG, Ty Dolla $ign, J. Cole, Drake, 21 Savage. I listen to Lil Yachty. I like D.R.A.M.’s song "Broccoli." I like that record ["XO Tour Lif3"] from Lil Uzi Vert. It’s some crazy shit that he’s saying, but the melody that he’s using it dead. [Starts vocalizing the melody] That sounds like some shit from back in the day, the melody.
I was told you’re working on new music. Is the feeling the same as when you were young?Yeah, definitely. It ain’t gon’ never change. That’s why I’m still doing it. I love it and it feels good to do good music. I just love doing it.
Torii MacAdams is a writer based in Los Angeles. Follow him on Twitter.
Here's some advice, dear reader, from me to you: Most of the time, it's not cool to wear a band's t-shirt to their own show. I know this because I, a nerd, have been roasted many times for this very act. However, there are always exceptions to rules, and here's a crucial one: If you're going to a Marilyn Manson show with the hope and/or intention of getting on stage with the God of Fuck himself, please, dear god, wear some of his merch. I'm giving you this advice because the other day in Madrid, a fan got a little taste of what happens when you get on stage with Marilyn Manson and you're not wearing a Marilyn Manson shirt.
At Download Festival Madrid, a handful of fans jumped onstage with Manson. One fan happened to be wearing an Avenged Sevenfold t-shirt, and, lo and behold, Manson literally told him to take it off. "You should take your shirt off," he told the very, very confused young man. "It's not my band. It's a different band." Well, duh. Was Manson confused? Did he think the fan wanted to go to an A7X show? I'm really not sure. Either way, this went on for a little while before the fan finally removed the shirt. It looked... traumatic. Watch footage below:
In other news, Manson and Rob Zombie have teamed up to cover The Beatles' "Helter Skelter". It basically sounds exactly how you'd expect it to sound. The pair have released the cover because they're touring together soon! Find details here, and listen to the track below:
Both Canada Day and American Independence Day how now passed us by, though the patriotic holidays were stained by the enmity that has grown between the two countries. Luckily, bi-national duo CMDWN can see past such petty discord in order to bring us the ignorant club jams we need. The Toronto-based group of Fiji and Ca$tro Guapo is gearing up for their new project Atlanada2, which, if it's anything like its 2016 predecessor, will make for some great music to blare out of car stereos whether driving down Queen Street or through hazy Atlanta summer's day.
The tape's first single is called "Hit & Run," and it features rising Atlantan Lil Wop. It's an incredibly goofy song, the cheery marimba riff and cartoon sound effects fitting oddly next to Ca$tro's crowd-inciting hook and Wop muttering about sticking his fingers up certain orifices. Still, Ca$tro makes sure to remind us that "my momma was my sidewalk cause she kept me off the street," so just know that these boys are aware of their roots. Stream "Hit & Run" below.
Watch CMDWN in 6ix Rising, our recent documentary on Toronto's rap scene and a video teaser for their upcoming album ATLANADA 2
Charlamagne Tha God, one-third of the radio morning show The Breakfast Club, is the subject of a new Care2 petition after a woman came forward with details of an alleged rape in 2001. The new information prompted the petition, which is calling for the radio host to be fired from the show.
Jessica Reid accused Charlamagne, whose real name is Lenard Larry McKelvey, of rape in 2001 when she was a minor and he was 22-years-old. This week, the now 32-year-old spoke to The Blast saying she wants to reopen the case. A 2001 Berkeley County Sheriff's police report states Reid, then 15, was brought to a party where she was given a drink that "tasted like soda." She said woke up to a man, who she identifies as McKelvey, forcing himself on her. She was taken to a nearby hospital where it was confirmed that she was sexually assaulted. In 2001, Charlagmane was arrested for "willfully, unlawfully, and feloniously engaging in penile/vaginal intercourse with a fifteen-year-old child minor," but was ultimately found guilty of a lesser charge. Now, Reid wants to revisit the rape charge.
The petition was launched yesterday with a goal of 5,000 signatures. It currently has 4,564 supporters. Charlamagne has referenced this incident before on-air and in an interview with DJ Akademiks where he maintains his innocence. South Carolina, where the incident occurred, has no statute of limitations.
Update: Today, Charlamagne's lawyers told TMZ: "More than seventeen years ago, Charlamagne was accused of a sexual assault. He never had sexual relations or any physical contact with the accuser and even provided DNA to prove it."
Kristin Corry is a staff writer for Noisey. Follow her on Twitter.
Three years ago, Brooklyn-based indie label Captured Tracks announced that they'd be reissuing Roadkill, the 1982 debut album from NYC post-punk band Capital Punishment. The record itself wasn't the sort of thing that most labels would have picked up again after years in the dust-covered attic, but each of the band's members had an interesting claim to fame: Kriss Roebling's ancestors built the Brooklyn Bridge; Peter Swann went on to be a Supreme Court Justice for the state of Arizona; Peter Zusi moved to the UK and became a Professor of Slavic Studies at University College London. And then there was the band's drummer, the kid dressed up like Che Guevara on the front cover of Roadkill—future Hollywood A-lister Ben Stiller.
"Ben was, and still is, just a regular guy," Zusi told Noisey back then. "If I think about the way Ben's career has developed, a lot of it has been around making connections between weirdo behavior and regular people. Ben always had a quirky sense of humor, and he was good at communicating that to people that weren’t as quirky as we were. With this album, it was all a certain type of rebellion in the direction of oddball. And that's what this album reflects to my mind."
This morning, Captured Tracks finally confirmed details of the rerelease. A remastered and expanded version of Roadkill will be out on September 14, and another single from the record, "Muzak Anonymous," accompanied the announcement. Like "Confusion," which slunk out back in 2015, it's all jagged and shouty and faux-Cockney. But unlike "Confusion," it is recognizably a song. Listen to that below and try not to imagine Ben Stiller wearing one of Devo's energy domes.
I just got back from a weeklong trip to Chicago, which has long been one of my favorite cities in the world, and in spite of my hot dog hangover and scabby new tattoos, am still feeling all warm and fuzzy about it. I don’t go to many metal shows at home in New York City anymore, but I managed to hit up two gigs out in Chicago that both brought back memories of my touring days, and reminded me why I used to spend three or four nights a week crowding into dark rooms full of hot breath and distortion pedals. It was nice.
It felt necessary, too, because in the midst of so much chaos and division and acrimony, it can be all too easy to lose sight of the things we love about this music, and this community. Metal is still my favorite thing in the world, and metal shows are still the closest thing to a church I’ve got (with apologies to my Romanian Catholic grandmother). So, in the glare of a mind-bogglingly hot, humid Midwestern summer, I went to church.
I was already super excited to see sludge/crust trio Body Void play at Live Wire the day after the Fourth of July (it felt fitting, given their crushing sound and anti-oppressive politics). Then, once I realized that not only were Boston post-metallers Lesser Glow staying at the same place as I was (with The Atlas Moth’s Stavros and Alex, two of my oldest and dearest friends in this scene) but that I’d actually known their vocalist, Alec Rodriguez, for many years as well, it felt like I’d hit a sort of extremely specific lottery.
Their new album, Ruined, is a fucking belter, and they killed it live, too—they sounded immeasurably heavy, and their muscular, kinetic performance laid bare the members’ hardcore pasts. They’d been described to me as “Failure, but doom,” and while I won’t pretend to be overly familiar with Failure’s canon, they certainly nailed the doom part, in an early 2000s Hydra Head kind of way. It ripped (and of course Body Void were great, too, because they are excellent and their sound is gigantic and pained and all-consuming live).
I also got to see something a bit out of the ordinary on that trip: the return of Indian, who remain one of the heaviest, most palpably miserable doom bands in existence (god love ‘em). They’d been tapped as a special, secret opener for the YOB and Bell Witch at Reggie’s Rock Club, and this particular performance marked the band’s first live outing since the death of founding member and drummer Bill Bumgardner, who passed away in 2016. The band has since enlisted drummer Noah Leger, who made his live debut with the band that night; Leger’s powerful efforts that evening made it crystal clear that, while Bumgardner himself is irreplaceable, the music he helped create will live on in capable hands.
As a unit, Indian was absolutely punishing, and just as ugly, mean, and confrontational as I remember; with lips curled and eyes squeezed shut, guitarists Will Lindsay and Dylan O'Toole traded off corrosive howls, Ron DeFries dug into the low end, anchoring the agony, and Mark Solotroff of Bloodyminded and Anatomy of Habit held court in a corner of the stage, unfurling peals of anxious noise. This was a warm-up gig for their appearance at the Psycho Las Vegas festival later this summer, and man, if this was just a warm up…
In addition, YOB and Bell Witch were cathartic and perfect like they always are, and had been when I saw them play in New York City a week or so prior. I’m endlessly grateful that this strange life I’ve built for myself has enabled me to establish precious personal relationships with so many artists and musicians whose work and ethos’ I deeply appreciate and respect, and this particular trip was rich in those kinds of friendships and connections. I left the city feeling loved, and grateful, and ready to come out swinging.
That being said, here are a few of the best things I’ve listened to since Vacation Kim switched off and Work Kim logged the fuck back on. Most of them are punk or punk-adjacent, deal with it.
Cliterati
As far as I’m concerned, the appearance of anything new from Portland, OR queercore metalpunks Cliterati is cause for celebration. The fact that their latest offering comes twinned with Autopsy god Chris Reifert’s punked-up project Violation Wound as part of a new split LP is even more delicious—as is that said new material lights a signal fire right underneath the Nazi scumfuck asses that vocalist Ami Lawless and their bandmates are fighting against.
As we’ve seen before, Portland doesn’t suffer Nazi fools gladly, and Lawless is no exception. On “Alt-Wrong,” the track we’re premiering here today, you can feel the rage emanating from their very pores as they spit, “I'll wipe my ass / With your Confederate flag / Won't be no cross burning / Here tonight / We'll fuck you up / Stand and fight!”
You heard ‘em. No pasaran!
Dispirit
John Gossard’s second act continues to intrigue and engross whenever it rears its hoary head. A new two-track, 40-odd minute Dispirit demo popped up on Bandcamp with little fanfare last week, and it’s excellent; slow, meditative, and imposing, with its strains of magisterial black metal and chthonic doom twisting and turning around one another like gnarled roots. To call it merely “atmospheric” does the recording a disservice; Enantiodromian Birth is nothing short of elemental.
Infernal Coil
I've been following this rising Boise death metal trio for a few years now, and am delighted to see that they've made the leap into a greater slice of spotlight by finishing up their debut full length, Within a World Forgotten, and signing with Profound Lore. Their take on metal of death is positively barbaric—yeah, there's a certain moldering atmosphere, and it surely falls within the modern "dark death metal" pantheon, but my major takeaway is how fucking HEAVY this shit is. Whew. Keep an eye on these lads.
Worst Witch
Ultra pissed, socially conscous hardcore punk from Bristol, UK that name-checks Dropdead, G.L.O.S.S. and Limp Wrist and just released a smashing new record on Alerta Antifascista Records—what’s not to like?
Niboowin
I came across Niboowin via an email from one of their members, Jimmy Danger, who also plays in the beyond wonderful Dakhma (who I gushed about last week). Their rough-edged screamo leaves plenty of room to emote, but fits rather well into the Fall of Efrafa school of musical thought, too, taking vast swaths of influence from black metal, post-hardcore, and epic crust punk (exacerbated by some nifty guest vocals from Cloud Rat’s Rorik Brooks). They’re currently on tour in Europe (!), catch ‘em if ya can!
Faustcoven
I’ve long considered Norway’s Faustcoven to be a damn near perfect synthesis of black metal, death metal, and doom—illustrated most convincingly on 2012’s Hellfire and Funeral Bells. The duo’s upcoming new album, In the Shadow of Doom, upends that formula, skewing far more heavily towards straight-up, plodding sepulchral doom (though the atmosphere is still all spooky and graven, of course). I’m still digging it, and am especially into how fucking miserable they sound now. I don’t know what the hell went down in the Faustcoven camp since 2012, but it sounds like it wasn’t pretty.
Prison Suicide
What a brutal fucking name, man. It gives me awful chills—and I know that that’s exactly the kind of reaction Damian Master was hoping for. As the headman of Colloquial Sound Recordings, he and his many projects—from A Pregnant Light to Aksumite, Ornamental Headpiece, and more—thrive within the twilight nexus of visceral discomfort and smoldering intrigue, and his hardcore punk project Prison Suicide is no exception, nor is its caustic, breakneck new self-titled jawn. Get stuck in.
Brainpan
Brainpan is a fairly new project, but one that shows buckets of promise. In short, this is DC-area powerviolence that comes correct with an impeccable guitar tone, a murderous groove, and a healthy emphasis on violence. It’s also heavy as shit (which doesn’t surprise me, since guitarist/vocalist Rob Moore also spent time in dearly departed doom ‘heads Salome) and the title of their ass-whipping new release, Turn On, Tune In, Drop Dead, basically sums up my entire personal philosophy.
Rebel Wizard
Noisey contributor Chris Krovatin introduced me to the genre-fucking metal enigma that is Rebel Wizard a few weeks back, and I didn’t quite know what to make of it. The project’s progenitor, NKSV, serves up noodly, hard-charging, 80s-flavored heavy metal mixed with power metal bombast, thrashy breakaways, and screechy, distorted, black metal-inflected yelps that somewhat unnervingly recall both vintage Children of Bodom and early Leviathan’s lo-fi sickness. It’s weird as hell—but Rebel Wizard’s Prosthetic debut, Voluptuous Worship of Rapture and Response, been steadily growing on me like some sort of toxic grave mold, so I thought I’d add it in here for kicks.
Kim Kelly is an editor at Noisey and a massive buzzkill on Twitter.
If I were to, for a moment, compare the current rap zeitgeist to art history, I would probably point to the impressionist period as the correlating reference for understanding the way this period of rap fits in the timeline. If you don’t know anything about art history, just understand this period was considered the first distinctly modern movement in painting. The impressionist period saw artists focus on how to capture their images without detail but with bold colors. This was a less formal approach that emphasized specific styles and impromptu takes.
Much like with rap nowadays, it feels like the impressionist art movement in which art is being created through layered ad-libs and infectious production tags over the traditional approach of carefully constructed 16 bar pockets; an emphasis on the broader strokes of the track’s personality and less on the structural details. There are no longer any rules. And I said all that to say, yes rap may be in it’s impressionist art movement but it still slaps all the same and YBN Nahmir is another pinpoint of proof. When Nahmir shared his Worldstar exclusive breakout hit “Rubbin’ Off the Paint” last September, I don’t think he ever imagined it amassing over 120 million views and garnering platinum status… but it did and this kind of success has served as the only marker of credibility necessary. That and a whole lot of Christian Louboutins for the 18-year-old rapper, born Nick Simmons, from Birmingham, Alabama.
Nahmir, Mr. Bounce out with that .44, along with YBN Almighty Jay and YBN Cordae, make up the trio of rappers within the young boss niggas collective. They all met playing video games like GTA on Xbox live years ago, which people (including myself I suppose now) continually use as a talking point when discussing the group of rappers, which is particularly weird given this is no anomaly for a generation of kids birthed from the internet age. But anyhow, Nahmir at the head features a style that certainly feels Bay Area influenced with consistent dabs of the South’s unique snares and loops. And look no further than "No Hook" featuring compadre YBN Almighty Jay to find Nahmir in his most comfortable element, effortlessly trading gravitational pull like quicksand bars with Almighty Jay.
When Nahmir received news of "Rubbin' Off the Paint" going platinum, it was also around the same time last month when he found out he wasn’t going to be able to walk in his high school graduation which sparked the #LetNahmirWalk hashtag. Nahmir took to Instagram to post after the principal of his school, Clay-Chalkville High School, informed him he would not be allowed to walk after the rapper had left tour and donated money to his community in hopes of a fulfilling graduation homecoming for him and his family.
Speaking with Nahmir, you can tell this is an 18-year-old whose life has accelerated in the last nine months at a pace he didn’t ask for. His tone is honest, and it’s weighing on him how fast and drastically life can change but he’s also thankful to be in the position he’s in: A feeling that replicates that of a gift and a curse. Continuing to build off "Rubbin' Off the Paint," Nahmir has dropped impressive singles like Automatic (RIP FREDO!), "Bounce Out with That," "I Got a Stick and a Bail Out" as well as getting big look features on tracks like G Eazy’s "1942," Bhad Babbie’s 'Hi Bich [Remix]," and Yung Bans's "Ridin'" featuring Nahmire and Landon Cube. Now Nahmir is preparing to drop his YBN compilation tape.
On the upcoming project (which is yet to get a release date), Nahmir is finding himself, growing up, flexing hard as ever but also trying to talk about his real life experiences and learn from his mistakes while doing it all in the public eye as an 18-year-old. And for what it’s worth, whether Nahmir will have sustained success, only time will tell but it certainly feels like he may be one of the lone Teen Titans in the rap game with the wherewithal to actually become a DC Universe fixture. We spoke with Nahmir about the new project, the rest of YBN and what life has been like since blowing up.
Noisey: When did you start taking the music shit serious? YBN Nahmir: When "Rubbin' Off the Paint" starting blowing up.
YBN Almighty Jay seem like he’s that wild boy in the crew and you’re the more reserved one, how did y’all find that balance and become that dynamic duo you guys give off? Jay always been a dumb nigga bruh just being a dumb nigga but he can get away with it [laughs] and everybody knew me for always being cool and laid back and shit, I don't know this just always been how I act like, I always just been myself that's why mostly everybody fuck with me I guess. But that nigga Jay he just a wild nigga so we go together cause I'm a calm nigga, Jay a hot nigga, and then we got my nigga Cordae & he just in between both of us.
How does it feel seeing that energy transferred from having that platinum record to seeing people actually respond to it live? Yeah bruh that shit crazy in itself. Like when you go to a show or hear somebody riding past in their car with yo shit playing, it feels crazy especially when everybody knows your shit.
Did you think "Rubbin Off the Paint"was gonna blow up the way it did? I mean hell yeah I knew it was gonna blow up a little bit but I ain't know it was gonna blow up how it did. I always had the mindset that it was going to hit a million but I ain't never expect it to hit 2 million, so shit it is what it is, now that hoe blowing up it's like at 110 million on YouTube. The number 1 most played video on WorldStar.
Now with this tape, what was the inspiration and approach behind this project? Shit, everything. All the experiences, how me and Jay linked up in person finally in 2017, it's a bunch of shit too like stories and what not, you just have to listen to understand. It's finna go crazy for sure.
Getting Gucci Mane, King of the South, on there was fitting, how'd that happen? Hell yeah, I already knew Gucci was gon hop on some shit, him being from Alabama too it was like mandatory that he got on there. Obviously he ain't have to do the shit but it was like mothafuckas already knew that shit was coming.
Something I was really interested in when it comes to you guys is the versatility in the music. Yeah exactly, Cordae is like the lyrical type of nigga, I'm the nigga that's gonna go in the booth and talk my shit, but to a certain extent and Jay just gonna go in there and go crazy and say what he wanna say and that shit gonna sound hard.
What's your favorite tracks off the upcoming tape right now? My shit probably would be "Think Twice" and "Porsches in the Rain."
Oh yeah, the track "Porsches in the Rain" stuck out to me to. It’s really a beautiful concept within a flawed setting, something like us humans to this world, where did that come from? "Porsches in the Rain," it was just different shit like nigga nobody talks about no Porsches in the rain so I was like fuck it Ima talk about some Porsches in the rain. Not one person you could think of who would name a song Porsches in the rain like where the fuck did that come from. So it's just some different shit.
You're really honest on parts of the project. What was the root of that? I feel everybody expected me to write about violence, but I wanted to take a more political angle. Chris [Brown] created the hook to speak about how police just see homicides in the hood as just another man down rather than a tragedy. It made me think about one of my homies who turned his life around, but still fell victim to murder, and it happened to be the police ...not even a gang member or anything like that.
"Letters to Valley" is a really intense & intimate series of tracks too. Who was he to you? A close friend of mine that had a heart attack.
What would you say your main motivation is going forward, do you want to expand past just the music? Hell yeah that's what we're doing now. We got the gaming shit coming, we got some movie shit we're doing coming soon, we already going crazy with the rap shit, so a bunch of things coming soon and mothafuckas just gonna have to watch and find out.
It's been almost nine months now since you blew up, I'm kinda interested in how it's been personally for you dealing with fame and what not? I mean it feel good but bruh [long pause] shit gets tiring.
Does it ever get overwhelming? Bruh it's crazy and I think we get it more than normal everyday people because it's like it's more stress than who you was before [the fame]. Like I ain't even gon cap, it's cool doing all this shit but being broke and being who I was, there's no feeling like that. I always had that joy and shit, it's like nothing can bring back that feeling I have with my family. But just knowing I could provide for them now makes me feel good though. Just growing up and knowing shit will never be the same, it's just different for me now.
What do you usually try to do when it gets to be too much? Hell yeah. Bruh that's how it is right now matter of fact, shit I just be lowkey bruh I don't know. You see how everybody else be in TMZ and all that extra shit niggas be doing, I don't got time for none of that shit. I just be in my own lane & I don't give mothafuckas too much of me because nigga if you give too much, niggas gon get tired of seeing yo ass, so I just be coolin' in my own lane.
What's the process for you making music now that you're building bodies of work even though you're on tour, are you going to the studio at night or making music on the move? It depends on how I'm feeling that day, I ain't been to the studio in a minute. I been on tour and shit but we just be coolin' in the studio when we go, it's not really hard to make a song cause we some hitmakers lowkey I ain't even gone cap. I'm finna start going crazy again when shit drop.
What does the future look like for you? Nigga, crazy! Gettin' more money, getting more fans, building more relationships, then we gon take this YBN shit off to a whole nother level.
Any advice you'd have for any other artists out here tryna get separate themselves from the pack? Shit, all they gotta do is be their self. If you be yourself, you're good. If you try to be somebody else you gon KO your whole career in a fucking second. Nigga you gotta be yourself, matter of fact, you gotta be yourself period no matter what you doing. Cause if you not being yourself, it's not hard to tell.
How's your family been receiving all this? Are they happy? It feels good, it feels good. I actually just went to go see my family in Connecticut, I had a lil mini type family reunion. I surprised they asses and pulled up on em. Everybody was happy as fuck to see my ass. Like I ain't see they asses since 6th grade and nigga I'm 18 so everybody was turnt, that felt good. Cause I was in New York by myself feeling depressed and shit so I had to go see they asses, I couldn't not do it.
Those the kind of moments that bring you back down to earth? Right bruh, like I was thinking about it like I was just sitting in my hotel room in New York and I'm like bruh I got family in New Haven, Connecticut, I could go see my family, I don't gotta be sitting here.
Is everything kind of numbing at this point since you're doing so much? Yeah it's just like 'okay, I don't even care bruh like cool'. I think I'm just so used to the shit like I got used to everything too quick. That's how it be though, shit I mean it is what it is.
Last thing… Since you’ve referenced both in your songs and videos, if you could be in one or the other, which would you pick: Spongebob or Rick & Morty? Shit, Spongebob cause I know that nigga. Rick & Morty, them niggas came out of nowhere, Spongebob I knew that nigga my whole life.
Over the past decade, Drake has situated himself as one of the most revered and commercially successful rappers of all time. The Toronto native's relentless output since his So Far Gone mixtape set him on the course for superstardom starting in 2009. Since then, he's released five studio albums, a handful of mixtapes, memorable loose tracks, and even a "playlist." And with his ability to tap into a variety of genres spanning from conventional bar-driven rap, full on R&B, dancehall, afropop, and more, Drake is one of the few artists who can keep his fans satisfied even if they want to focus on just one of those skills.
Two weeks ago, Drake released his fifth studio album, Scorpion, which has already sparked an international internet phenomenon with New York comedian Shiggy's dance to standout track "In My Feelings." But merits aside, one of the more consensus criticisms of the album is that its 25 track, 90-minute runtime is way too long for how we consume music in 2018. Some fans have taken it upon themselves to create an ideal, edited version of the track list, picking their favorites and cutting off the excess.
Like many high-profile releases, Scorpion inspired fans to revisit Drake's catalog to look at how he's grown since first breaking away from his image as a teen actor on Degrassi. During this time, a friend of mine texted our group chat with a message that read:
The Calm The Resistance The Ride Lord Knows In My Feelings Tuscan Leather Fancy 9am in Dallas Look What You’ve Done Up All Night/Houstalantavegas
A dream Drake album
The text came as a surprise but considering that I was doing nothing more than fishing through YouTube for underground artists and catching up on podcasts, I got sucked into the question he implied: What 10 Drake songs would make the perfect album?
This exercise wasn't to rank Drake's best ten tracks. While still challenging, that doesn't require much creativity. Going through Drizzy's extended catalog—including loose tracks and freestyles—to craft what would flow best as a ten-song album is a bit more daunting, especially considering that his albums have gotten progressively longer over the past few years. After deliberating, I came up with what I thought would be the ideal Drake album and took it to Twitter.
The tweet traveled further than I anticipated and luckily so, because it was interesting to see what Drake songs resonate with people enough that it'd make a dream album. Like mine, the overwhelming majority started their albums off with "Tuscan Leather," the intro from my personal favorite Drake album, Nothing Was The Same. But outside of that, what was most apparent was that Drake has such a wide selection of music that a prompt like this probably wouldn't be as varied if asked of our other rap titans. Here are a few responses:
There are probably over a million ways to create a ten-track Drake album. But if you were given the chance, how would your album flow from beginning to end? Let's collectively get to the bottom of this!
Lawrence Burney spent hours on this but still has not accepted how much of a Drake fan he is. Follow him on Twitter.
When the comedic Instagram personality Shiggy freestyled a routine to Drake's Scorpion standout "In My Feelings" in the middle of a street with oncoming traffic he couldn't have imagined how far it would travel. Thanks to your friends, the so-called "In My Feelings" Challenge has dominated virtually every social media timeline in the two weeks since, and as with any omnipresent online phenomenon, the celebs have started latching on as well. Ciara and Russell Wilson killed it, along with Odell Beckham Jr., and Drake even put his awkward spin on it, too. But now, it's all over. Will Smith accepted the challenge and he completely annihilated it. You can all go home.
The Philadelphia born released his epic version on Instagram today, which is extremely well thought out—drones were definitely involved. After watching Ciara and Russell's video on his phone, he decides to scale a bridge in Budapest and takes us on the journey with him. Standing on top of the world, quite literally, he credits his nerves for a stiff routine. It doesn't matter, Will. We promise you no one noticed.
Drake even found his way in Smith's comments, assuring the public that the "In My Feelings" video is finally complete. Let's hope Shiggy is involved for his role in making this song massive.
Kristin Corry is a staff writer at Noisey. Follow her on Twitter.
In 2004, a group of teenagers from just outside of Atlanta released what would become one of rap's most adored anthems. From the moment it dropped, Crime Mob's "Knuck If You Buck" offered three and-a-half minutes of liberatinghead-banging. The beginning star member Diamond's verse ("I come in the club, shaking my dreads") prompted you to swing your head from side to side, even if there wasn't anything on it to shake. The song ultimately peaked at number 28 on Billboard's R&B/Hip-Hop Airplay list but its value has long transcended commercial performance.
What "Knuck If You Buck" has proven over the years is that there is a crucial need for black and urban youth to exercise their angst and aggression through music. Waka Flocka Flame's rise in the late 2000's and Chicago's drill movement at the early part of this decade gave credence to that notion, but few have stood the test of time like Crime Mob's debut single. But what's most curious about the song's staying power is that, until now, no one has dug into the backstory of how it was made and what happened to the kids who made it.
Earlier this week Gimlet Media's podcast The Nod did God's work when they released an oral history of the song by talking to group members, former managers, and Atlanta-area journalists to get to the bottom of what made the song so magical. In the episode, we found out how the beat was first constructed by producer Lil' Jay, how a group of teens suffered financially from their manager's business dealings, and why the song continues to permeate through hip-hop culture. To get some more insight and details that didn't even make the episode, we caught up with Wallace Mack, a producer for The Nod and the guy who reported the story out over the span of three months. The Nod also shared some of the unused passages from their interviews with the Crime Mob and their associates, some of which you can also find below.
NOISEY: What led you to this story? I feel like anyone working in journalism is always trying to find that story that’s kind of a no brainer but no one has done it. Tracking the history of “Knuck If You Buck” is a classic case of that. Wallace Mack: I had actually been thinking about this story for maybe a year and a half. When I started at The Nod as an intern it was actually a part of my application—we were supposed to pitch three stories. One thing I’ve always been interested in was oral histories, but the written versions of them. But I was very curious what that would sound like translated into podcast form. I consider myself very nostalgic. So if there’s anything from the past or anything that reminds me of childhood, I’m automatically gravitated towards those things. For me, “Knuck If You Buck” is one of those songs that perfectly captures a moment in time in my life. You know how certain smells bring stuff back? This song activates a whole host of sensory memory for me in terms of smell, feeling. I can hear the song and remember exactly where I was, enjoying it with my friends at various points of my life.
One thing you said during the episode that stuck out to me is that the song helped you get out some teenage angst. And that was key because music like Crime Mob, Three 6, and Lil Jon were artists served the same purpose for young black kids or kids that grew up in the hood as punk did for majority white and suburban kids. Just to add to that point, we’re culturally at this moment where certain forces and gatekeepers get to dictate what’s culturally important or highbrow. With Crime Mob, we’ve talked about this group in a certain way that they’ve been connected to violence and lowbrow art but I think a song that has this kind of impact definitely deserves to be elevated in a way that a lot of black art is being elevated right now.
"I'm on the phone with this chick, and she like, 'Lil Jay, your song on the radio.' I said, 'Bullshit. My song ain't on no damn radio. Quit playin'.' 'Nah, for real, your song on the radio.' She put the phone by the speaker. I hung up the phone, ran upstairs. Put it on V-103. I said, 'Mama, we on the radio! Oh shit.'" -Lil' Jay
Are there any particular reasons for why you think the song isn’t highly regarded? Because we’re coming up on 15 years since it came out and it’s still going strong. I think one thing about it is the stigma around the song from back then. I don’t know if you remember this but there was a period of time in which this song was being very directly connected with violence that was happening in school and teen clubs. One of the things that Diamond talked to me about that didn’t make it into the story was how they would show up at shows and there would be people there protesting with signs.
Oh, wow. Yeah man, she told me a really crazy story about how they pulled up to a show, and there’s a helicopter circling the air. There’s police outside in riot gear. Then, you have on one side, these adults and parents holding signs saying things like “Change your lyrics. Your songs are hurting our kids.” Then, you have kids on the other side of that barrier screaming “Diamond! Princess! We love you,” banging their fists to “Knuck If You Buck.” Their manager was getting emails from certain cities saying they weren’t welcome to perform there. So I think that stigma kind of persists and even though people don’t address it anymore, it does have a lot to do with why we haven’t been able to have a real conversation about this song.
Were there any particular challenges in putting this whole thing together? Like, were there moments when you felt like it wasn’t gonna come together the way you hoped? You gotta think about it: this is a group of people who have all gone on to do other things in their own lives. Generally trying to make contact with them and trying to lock in interviews and locations—it was most difficult with Diamond because she’s had the most exposure since that time. You know, with doing the Love And Hip Hop thing and all that. It took me at least three months to get in touch with Diamond. And since a lot of them have gone on to do things outside of the mainstream, a lot of the correspondence was a lot of commenting on Instagram pictures, sliding in people’s DMs, using booking emails. But those booking emails aren’t being managed by professionals. It’s like people’s homeboys. I was working with a guy who claimed to be Diamond’s publicist for at least three months before he messaged me back and said he actually didn’t have access to her anymore.
"More bookings, certain magazines would highlight me and put me in their magazine and say me from Crime Mob but would not highlight them so it started to affect us. We would take pictures, go on red carpets, or interview people would wanna ask me more questions or fans would wanna speak to me." -Diamond
You also mentioned a conversation with one of Crime Mob’s former managers in which he bragged about taking most of their money? When I made contact with him, he wanted to talk right away and he was adamant that we speak at a studio in Atlanta called Patchwerk. That’s where they recorded the CDQ version of “Knuck If You Buck.” That interview was wild from beginning to end. As soon as the interview was over—about an hour after—I got the studio tape. So I send it off for transcription and I remember certain things from our talk. But I can’t find any of this crazy stuff he said in the interview. I reached out to the studio to say the interview is missing about five minutes of tape. From there began a series of back and forth that started like “Sure we’ll send it over.” Then it became “Actually nothing is missing.” Then the owner of the studio called me and told me that he reached out to the engineer to see what was going on. Apparently, the machine stopped recording in the middle of our interview and he had to pick it back up. It was really fishy at that particular part of the interview when he started gloating in the ways in which this group has been screwed by the contract he made, that the tape goes missing. They weren't aware that we recorded the interviews on our end. So they thought if they cut that part, it could never see the light of day but we had to tell them that we had it and were going to use it.
Last year, Crime Mob announced that they’d be releasing their third studio album by the end of 2017 but it never happened. Did you get a sense of anything like that ever happening? Based on my conversations with J and Princess, they say Crime Mob already has one studio album recorded that hasn’t been released and they’re working on another one. All new material.
With Diamond in it? I doubt if Diamond’s in it. But J did get very excited to tell me about how a lot of their new stuff will include a gospel influence. Princess also hinted at praising God and how far he’s brought them. Now, we both know that Crime Mob tends to—every year—say that something is going to drop and we don’t usually see it. But, what I hope from this—at no point during this process did they all sit together in a studio to talk about this. All their perspectives are individual. I hope that in hearing this project and hearing how serious we at The Nod took it, that it will inspire them to want to get back together and give the streets what they looking for. I think there is an audience that wants to know if Crime Mob still has it.
Yuin rapper Nooky has released his new single and video "BLACK FUTURE" a raging trap anthem designed to inspire future generations of First Nations people around the country. Described by Nooky's label Bad Apples Music (BAM) as a "perfect NAIDOC anthem", "BLACK FUTURE" is a stand-alone single released to commemorate this year's NAIDOC week. "This song is about black excellence," says Nooky of the track, "about the feats we've achieved in the past [as well as] what we're doing now and what we're about to do."
According to Nooky, the song also "references 3 prominent black figures who are killing it in their fields: Jimmy Little, Patty Mills and Tai Tuivasa. The song is about having the heart to stand for something and having the gurras [Yuin (Dhurga) word for nuts] to fight for it.”
Nooky will also be releasing his debut album later this year on Bad Apples. To celebrate the release of "BLACK FUTURE", he's also released a series of t-shirts, featured in the song's music video. We're thrilled to be premiering "BLACK FUTURE" today:
Check out the rest of Noisey's NAIDOC content, including new music from Mojo Juju and interviews with Thelma Plum, Alice Skye and Emily Wurramara, here.
Find NITV's schedule of NAIDOC programming, including fascinating new documentaries and interviews, here.
Gamilaraay songwriter Thelma Plum has released "Clumsy Love", her first new single in four years(!!). The lead track from a follow-up to 2014's Monsters EP, "Clumsy Love" is a light, deft throwback to the golden days of 2010s indie. Co-written by Alexander Burnett (from Sparkadia, if you remember them) "Clumsy Love" showcases the warmth in Plum's voice, underpinning it with handclaps and tambourine. Despite the track's wispy production, Plum's songwriting still cuts deep: "Clumsy Love" eschews love song tropes, instead finding the track's protagonist holding a wishy-washy romantic interest to account. "I can only love you twice as much before you fuck this up," she sings on the song's pre-chorus, before imploring: "Don't leave me hanging on."
While "Clumsy Love" is Plum's first single since Monsters, the last four years haven't been a fallow period for her. In the interim, she's covered Flight Facilities for Telstra and collaborated with a heap of artists, including her work providing a standout hook to A.B. Original track "I.C.U." Recently, Plum entered the studio again, with Briggs and "Aboriginal Princess" Jessica Mauboy. Listen to "Clumsy Love", and find Thelma's upcoming tour dates below:
FRI 31 AUG | THE FOUNDRY, BRISBANE QLD (18+) SAT 01 SEP | SOLBAR, MAROOCHYDORE QLD (18+) THU 06 SEP | MOJO’S FREMANTLE WA (18+) FRI 07 SEP | THE RIVER, MARGARET RIVER WA (18+) SAT 08 SEP | AMPLIFIER, PERTH WA (18+) FRI 14 SEP | OXFORD ART FACTORY, SYDNEY NSW (18+) SAT 15 SEP | HOWLER, MELBOURNE VIC (18+)
Mac Miller, once internet-rap's wise-cracking, lovelorn answer to Dean Martin, will release a new album, Swimming, on August 3. None of "Small Worlds," "Buttons," or "Programs," the three singles Miller released back in May, will make the final cut, but a similarly woozy-sounding new single called "Self Care" will be included. As the title suggests, it's less about Miller inspecting his own behavior than it is an ode to locking the cruel world out and embracing "oblivion." Between the knocked-out-stoned beat and Miller's bloodshot-at-4 AM flow, the track's so mellowed-out that it can barely keep its eyes open. J.I.D and Blood Orange's Devonté Hynes are both listed as co-writers on the song, but, save for Hynes's compressed vocals in a bridge halfway through, neither of them leave a particularly recognizable mark. It's not the strongest song Miller's put out this summer—that three-song surprise pack was refreshingly self-analytical—but at least he's in a solid groove at the moment. It bodes well.
Watch the Kill Bill-inspired video for "Self Care" above.
There are those artists who feel the need to act like assholes in the run-up to an album release, believing that all PR is good PR. Then there's Chief Keef, who's so prolific that barely even tweets about a new project now. Mansion Musick, released this morning, at least came with ten day's notice—more than can be said for The GloFiles Pt 1, The GloFiles Pt 2, The Leek Vol. 4, The Leek Vol. 5, and the Ottopsy EP, all of which came out earlier this year with next-to-no fanfare. (The 22-year-old Chicagoan's even run out of album titles; a Mansion Music mixtape came out back in 2014.)
This one feels a little more like a full album rather than a collection of loosies or a handful of club-ready half-hits, even if the mix seems uneven and the tracks occasionally blur into one. It's bookended by two anti-naysayer ballads in the Auto-Tuned "Belieber" and the hurriedly pretty "Letter." Between them there's "TV On (Big Boss)," a tribute to Keef's cousin, Fredo Santana, who died in January; a sloppy Playboi Carti collaboration on "Uh Uh"; and a grateful shot of energy on "Tragedies." Lyrically there's nothing radical—"Shoot them dice, hit your car / I need duct tape, bitch no Scotch"—and Keef probably could've cut this down to size. But he's never been in the mood for that. So you'll just have to sift through the 90-odd songs he's put out already this year and piece together something special yourself.
In between launching a new streaming service, announcing Big Red Machine's debut album, and hosting his Eaux Claires festival in Wisconsin, Bon Iver's Justin Vernon has been collaborating with the modern dance troupe TU Dance on a live performance called Come Through. The score for the project is a "work-in-progress," and those who caught early glimpses of it in Massachusetts a while back came back with shaky phone clips of road-tested Bon Iver demos from live sets past. But a group called MN Original (in conjunction with Twin Cities PBS) very quietly uploaded three professionally recorded cuts from the show earlier this week, and they offer a far better glimpse into the project than we've had before.
"SDIAH," teased as "Shittiest Day In American History" on Twitter in the Spring, is a sparse song, yowled by Vernon over a glimmering keyboard line, embellished by a sax solo. "1867," which a lot of fans figure to be a 22, A Million outtake, is a gentle and impressionistic ballad, built on a clean guitar; the three-and-a-half-minute cut that MN Original uploaded is apparently an "excerpt," but it works nicely as a bridge. The real standout is "Naeem 2," previously called "I Can Hear Crying," which Vernon played at Bonnaroo this year. It wraps itself around the type of heavily syncopated beat that foregrounded 22, AM, and it's essentially one long, cathartic crescendo, Vernon exhaling through the verses before joining a chorus of one. TU Dance turn the whole thing into an interpretive spectacle, so think of these as three really good music videos for three possibly unfinished songs.
The Minneapolis/St Paul run of Come Through is all done, but they're taking the show to LA for one night on August 5. You can get tickets here.
UPDATE: An earlier version of this article said that PBS were involved with the release of the clips. It was actually Twin Cities PBS, not PBS national.
It's a Saturday afternoon and producer and DJ Jarreau Vandal is scoping out the deteriorating exterior of a soon-to-be-demolished car garage. “Have you ever jumped over a fence?” he asks, driving up. He's driven me all the way to Bijlmer, the Amsterdam neighbourhood he grew up in, so we can paint graffiti together. He gravitated towards spray-painting his city's walls as a teen because it felt like a vessel for public creativity. And in a sense, that's what his music has become ever since.
Born and raised in The Netherlands, 26-year-old Jarreau has been producing since he was a teenager, after his grandfather – still to this day a Dutch folk music producer – taught him the basics of audio production software Logic. Throughout high school in Amsterdam, his father’s jazz record collection made more of an impact than artists getting mainstream radio play. At the same time, Jarreau came of age in clubs that championed equality, freedom and nonconformity, which gives him a rare perspective on the inclusive potential of club music, worldwide. And so he encapsulates those ideas, as well as the idiosyncrasies of his hometown’s music scene with his upcoming mixtape, Anthology.
Up to this point, fans have known Jarreau as an eclectic producer and exceptional DJ. More casual listeners would probably have heard some of his many remixes: of Dua Lipa, G-EAZY, Diplo and Trippie Redd, MNEK, Rihanna and more. But with one foot in the club, creating high energy, beats-led music, he’s stepping out of his comfort zone for a more eclectic selection of songs on Anthology (due out in September). It’s is a highly personal project that leans into Jarreau’s ability to blend together various sounds, incorporating elements of soul, hip-hop and funk. As we speak, he expresses a sentiment of moving past genres. And as a day-one music obsessive, he knows exactly how to tread the line between amplifying culture and protecting what’s so special about it. He spoke while multitasking, sipping from a can of beer with one hand while spray-painting with the other.
Noisey: I’m assuming you were a naughty kid growing up? Jarreau Vandal: I haven’t done anything too bad; it’s just that if I like something and it’s not allowed, I’m going to do it anyway. It’s not that I do it just because it’s illegal… although that does give a rush too.
And graffiti fell into that category… what about it appeals to you? I’ve been doing it since I was about 12. I’m not great at it, but it just calms me down a lot. I get to be creative without having to be seated at a chair. It’s so satisfying to fill in outlines of letters, there’s something about it that allows me to block out all the other thoughts rushing through my head. I don’t have to think about shit when I’m painting, so I just feel really present in the moment. I love the idea of how something anonymous can be so disruptive and political.
Producing doesn’t make you feel that way? To an extent, but there’s also more pressure to be good at it, because it’s what I do for a living. When I first started producing it was very freeing, I just messed around and experimented with a bunch of things on Logic. Then I learned how to DJ and put a lot of effort into it because the level of skill in Amsterdam is so high. I genuinely enjoy it, but it requires a lot more focus and intention than spray-painting.
Do you have a preference between producing and DJing? Nah, they go hand in hand, although they’re definitely not the same. Last month I had a gig at Open Air, it was the first big festival that I was performing at again after a long time of producing and finishing this project. Tell me why I had a fucking panic attack. That had never happened to me before in my life, ever. It was just because I was home for such a long time and in this mindset of creating, and then all of a sudden I had to perform in front of this huge crowd of people, I was playing after this big artist and people were just asking me all these questions… it was a lot. I did the show and everything was fine but that transition was crazy. I still do love DJing for sure; they’re just very distinctive crafts and require very different parts of you as an artist.
You’ve also produced for other artists before. How does that compare to producing for your own projects, having to create a certain sound that they’re looking for instead of what you feel like making? I prefer that actually, because I can still relate to it, you know? And you can learn a lot from it. I think that also what a certain level of professionalism requires. Sometimes you gotta do some shit you don’t like because it’ll make you appreciate it more when you do shit that you do like.
Your upcoming mixtape is dropping soon. Are you apprehensive at all about it’ll be received by the public? Not at all. The people who like it, like it. If they don’t, they don’t. I just stay true to what I like, you know? It’s very versatile and on some songs I went a bit out of my comfort zone, I made tracks that are more in the pop realm. Unfortunately there’s still a bit of that “Soundcloud producer” stigma that I want to get rid of. I hate it, the whole “I’m a beatmaker” label that people attach to you just because that’s the platform that you started putting music out on originally. I want to make timeless music.
You incorporate a lot of live instruments on this project. What was the philosophy behind that choice? I think my music tends to be quite electronic and that’s what people know me for, but it also comes from a very real place so I wanted to make sure this project reflected that and sounded organic. I also have a lot of respect for the origins of the different genres I draw inspiration from, so I felt like including live elements like real brass, piano, bass and guitar adds more authenticity to the tape.
Your single “Break My Back” (above), debuts on Soundcloud today and might come as a sort of surprise to people familiar with your catalogue. How did this track come together? I was about to spend 24 hours straight making music with different artists. The first session of the day hadn’t worked out too well, so I was feeling discouraged and almost wanted to cancel the next one I had with Ashnikko. I told her how I felt and we went for a walk to get some air. Then once we got back to the studio I just started messing around and she let me do my thing while she came up with some lines. And it worked out, it’s a crazy tune! It’s like a combination of dancehall with grime, hip-hop, R&B, emo… It was kind of weird to me because I’ve never made anything like that before.
Why did you call this project “Anthology”? That’s what this mixtape is to me: a collection of stories. There are different sounds on there, different artists, different overall vibes, but each one tells a story.
Your DJ sets have a tendency to do the same – you take the audience on a journey through a variety of sounds, genres and stories. I could stick one genre, but I get bored quickly and I can relate to so many different experiences and people that I want everyone to feel like a part of their story is being told through my sets. My voice is my life experience of being in different environments from the small, multicultural underground clubs, to the big London clubs, from Berlin to Seoul. I’ve experienced music presented in many different environments and that experience presents itself in how I perform music to people.
How did you develop that ability to be able to relate to so many people? Or have you always been that way? I was born in the south of The Netherlands and raised by an Indonesian father and part-Surinamese mother. Then when I turned two, we moved to Amsterdam, which is one of the most diverse cities in the world. So I got to immerse myself in a lot of different settings, from chilling in the countryside, to living in Bijlmer, from playing the drums at church, to doing graffiti on abandoned buildings. All these different experienced influenced me; they made me who I am.
In electronic music’s early days, the DJ was not necessarily the focal point of the party, and at some point that changed. Is that something that you consider when you’re playing? Are you thinking about how you look while you’re performing? Absolutely, I see lots of DJs looking down at their screens throughout their entire set and I look at mine too, but I also think it’s important to turn up with the crowd, to show them the kind of energy that you want them to be feeling. I always try to jump around and have fun with it.
Given that you’re playing constantly, how do you challenge yourself and keep it fresh? I’m just always digging. I remember when YouTube first came out, I would just spend hours surfing it and discover the craziest shit. I just make sure I continue to do that. You have to, you have to come correct and keep it fresh. Though it’s kind of stressful sometimes. I have to admit I don’t always enjoy preparing for sets because there’s just such a sheer amount of music out there, it can get a bit overwhelming. There’s tons of amazing music spread throughout internet, but the part I don’t like is the scrolling through all that bullshit and stressing that you won’t be able to find the gems in there.
Do you adapt your sets to the context of the different cities you’re performing in? Yeah, I make a conscious effort to incorporate local music in my sets. It’s crucial for me to be able to show a crowd that I appreciate their music and respect their culture; that I took time to recognise some of their local talent.
Can you tell me a record that works on any dance floor in the world? “Africa” by Toto, but that’s cheating... Surprisingly, my own edit of Travis Scott’s “Goosebumps” works every time.
A record that always brings you joy? “Just Chillin Out” by Bernard Wright.
A record you want played at your funeral? “Tell Me a Bedtime Story” by Herbie Hancock.
Every year, the organizers of Burning Man create a Facebook invite for their annual festivities in the Nevada desert, and every year trolls from all walks of the internet congregate to completely obliterate it. In 2016, the trolls came out in full force to post about potato sacks filled with Skoal and PCP, tips on free bleeding, the merits of “Wonderwall,” and Steven Seagal’s judo tent. The year before that, they posed questions for Burning Man organizers about Pan-Asian waterslides, Guy Fieri’s Flavortown Nightmare tent, and Kid Rock’s acoustic life coaching session. After dozens and dozens and dozens of inane posts clogging up the page for weeks, the event listing essentially became unusable for any practical reasons. If an actual Burner needed to inquire about a real issue, it’d instantly be buried below a pile of polls about free-base Bubba Gump shrimp and invites to R. Kelly’s gluten-free sauna. The yearly ritual of torching the Burning Man event page became as celebrated as actually torching the Burning Man.
Past invites have typically been posted at least four months prior to the event, but with Burning Man 2018 right around the corner on August 26, the Facebook event page for this year is conspicuously missing from Facebook. There also doesn’t seem to have been an event page created last year, either. Organizers have recently been using Facebook to create invite pages for smaller events like film screenings and cabaret nights, with the largest ones being their Precompression event in Oakland and their Desert Arts Preview in San Francisco, but no main event, as they’d done every year since at least 2011.
Did the trolls troll so hard that the Burning Man employees finally threw up their hands and gave the fuck up? Burning Man organizers did not respond to a query about why they’ve not created event pages for the last two years.
While Burning Man Facebook activity has reduced over the last two years, the festival has an active subreddit that leads a seemingly untrolled existence where Burners exchange information and preparation updates free of absurd inquiries about Rebecca Black’s hot sauce expo. There’s also a Burning Man Meetup group with over 25,000 members.
Maybe the lesson here is that trolling works. Maybe fucking around on the internet all day at work, which so often seems like a colossal waste of time, can actually be a productive vehicle for social change.
Or maybe the lesson is that no one wants to use Facebook anymore since the site has become even more of a useless trash-heap since Zuckerberg sold our data to the Trump campaign. (Gotta give that one a big Sad emoji reaction, Zuck!)
But whatever the lesson is in the Saga of the Burning Man Facebook Page, one thing is for certain: The internet is a worse place without the annual tradition of repeatedly asking Burners where the Libertarian John Mayer cosplay tent will be. Pour out a can of Paul Ryan's limited edition Rockstar Energy Drink for this one, y'all.
Dan Ozzi is on Twitter if you have more information about where the event page ran off to.
Let's put aside the matter of the Song of the Summer's whereabouts for a moment. Let's forget the fact that we're a year removed from a hit so infectious that people who don't speak Spanish managed to wrap their tongues around the phrase "deja que te diga cosas al oído." Ignore the fact that, as Ryan wrote last week, a 22-year-old soccer-chant single with two comedians as guest stars is the most ubiquitous song in the United Kingdom right now. Instead, we should be asking this: How have we all woken up on a Friday in the middle of July to three songs that collectively feature six bona fide pop stars and zero choruses?
Ariana Grande's new single, "God Is a Woman," was supposed to come out this time next week, but her team at Republic seemingly wanted an extra week of chart play in advance of next month's Sweetener. Written by Grande alongside Savan Kotecha and the Swedish superteam of Ilya Salmanzadeh, Max Martin, and Rickard Goransson, the song's less an empowerment anthem and more an awkward testament to being Good At Sex, a throwback to the Aguileraisms of the early-2000s: "Baby, lay me down and let's pray / I'm tellin' you the way I like it, how I want it." The key moments in the verse are based on Grande singing a two-note melody, seemingly building to something. But instead we get Grande singing, "You, you love it how I move you / You love it how I touch you," roughly following the dimly lit path of the verse.
Benny Blanco brought last summer's teen-prince Khalid and perennial earworm farmer Halsey in for "Eastside," and it makes for a more satisfying listen. Khalid can do a lot with a little, and Halsey's breathy voice tends to find some strange nooks. But they essentially trade verses off before joining in for a joint outro. And when they get there, they don't even harmonize, which seems like a wasted opportunity. It'll drift out of iPhone speakers into summer parks and everything will go on as before.
And then there's MØ and Diplo, both of whom have a seemingly innate talent for crafting big, bold drops and hate-that-you-love-them singalongs. Last time they got together, at the end of 2017, they put together an essentially instrumental climax that led to both of them grinning manically and throwing their limbs around an empty palace. "Sun In Our Eyes," the first single from the Danish singer's Forever Neverland, is a perfectly alright pop song—though I prefer oddball MØ to radio-ready MØ—and after a few plays the melody does start to catch nicely. But there's another level, one that these two normally find without really trying, that seems absent here. A few "la la la"s come in for the bridge, the type of thing that MØ would've turned up and used after a gargantuan club drop a couple years ago. Instead, we're left half a very good pop song.
There's always next week. In the meantime, I'll be sitting here idle, waiting for Carly Rae Jepsen to return.
Give Alex Robert Ross a goddamned chorus on Twitter.
