22 minute read
MUSIC
MUSIC MUSIC
Clockwork DJ spent nearly a decade touring with rapper Mac Miller.
PHOTO: MASON MILLS
Running Like Clockwork Running Like Clockwork Cincinnati native Clockwork DJ reimagines his career after the death Cincinnati native Clockwork DJ reimagines his career after the death of his collaborating partner, Mac Miller. of his collaborating partner, Mac Miller. BY BRIAN BAKER
BY BRIAN BAKER
Garrett Uddin, known locally and globally as Clockwork DJ ( or DJ Clockwork, or to fans and friends, simply Clock), is feeling – how do we say this delicately? – under the weather. He spoke at an Art Academy of Cincinnati event the previous evening and then DJ’ed the afterparty, where there was an open bar. Hence the oppressive weight of the…weather. at weight is almost immediately lifted once Clock begins talking animatedly about the past four years and how his career and life have taken a turn that he could never have predicted, all because of his best friend’s death. e Cincinnati native/New York City resident beams while discussing his newest recording project, Super Beats Tape, and his con dence over ows as he details plans for a future that didn’t seem at all bright in September 2018.
“I’m gifted at a lot of things that people don’t know,” says Clock. “I want to start using those other gifts.”
In the 2000s, Clock’s local pro le as a rising young DJ exploded into the national and international consciousness when local hip hop promoter Sean Herron introduced Clock to his new signing, a teenage rapper named Mac Miller. Miller’s rst studio album, 2011’s Blue Slide Park, became the rst independently-distributed album to debut in the top slot on the Billboard 200 album chart in over a decade and a half.
For the subsequent nine years, Clock was Miller’s o cial DJ and became one of his closest friends, accompanying him in the studio and providing the soundtrack for every tour.
“I spent nine years on the road with Mac, like, this is my brother,” says Clock. “People who understand touring understand how quick you can develop a family with someone.” ings came to a tragic halt when Miller died of an accidental overdose in 2018; three men were subsequently arrested for providing Miller with prescription medication that was laced with fentanyl. Clock’s world was suddenly in shambles; Miller hadn’t toured in months because he was recording the songs that ultimately comprised his posthumous album, Circles, and Clock
Garrett Uddin, known locally and globally as Clockwork DJ ( or DJ Clockwork, or to fans and friends, simply Clock), is feeling – how do we say this delicately? – under the weather. He spoke at an Art Academy of Cincinnati event the previous evening and then DJ’ed the afterparty, where there was an open bar. Hence the oppressive weight of the…weather. at weight is almost immediately lifted once Clock begins talking animatedly about the past four years and how his career and life have taken a turn that he could never have predicted, all because of his best friend’s death. e Cincinnati native/New York City resident beams while discussing his newest recording project, Super Beats was looking forward to the payday of hitting the road to promote the new release. at payday never materialized. “It was fucked up when he passed, I’ll be honest,” says Clock. “It was a lightning bolt to the heart. I had to gure out what I was going to do. Keep DJing? e problem was I had promised Mac I would never DJ for another artist, ever, and I wanted to stick by that. So I had to recalibrate my whole way of thinking.” Clock knew he would never stop making and presenting music, so production and straight DJ gigs were still in play, but his immediate concern was paying the bills (“I live in New York City,” he says. “ ings aren’t cheap.”). His friend Shyvonne Sanganoo had previously tried to enlist his services
Tape, and his con dence over ows as he details plans for a future that didn’t seem at all bright in September 2018.
“I’m gifted at a lot of things that people don’t know,” says Clock. “I want to start using those other gifts.”
In the 2000s, Clock’s local pro le as a rising young DJ exploded into the national and international consciousness when local hip hop promoter Sean Herron introduced Clock to his new signing, a teenage rapper named Mac Miller. Miller’s rst studio album, 2011’s Blue Slide Park, became the rst independently-distributed album to debut in the top slot on the Billboard 200 album chart in over a decade and a half.
For the subsequent nine years, Clock was Miller’s o cial DJ and became one of his closest friends, accompanying him in the studio and providing the soundtrack for every tour.
“I spent nine years on the road with Mac, like, this is my brother,” says Clock. “People who understand touring understand how quick you can develop a family with someone.” ings came to a tragic halt when Miller died of an accidental overdose in 2018; three men were subsequently arrested for providing Miller with prescription medication that was laced with fentanyl. Clock’s world was suddenly in shambles; Miller hadn’t toured in months because he was recording the songs that ultimately comprised his posthumous album, Circles, and Clock was looking forward to the payday of hitting the road to promote the new release. at payday never materialized.
“It was fucked up when he passed, I’ll be honest,” says Clock. “It was a lightning bolt to the heart. I had to gure out what I was going to do. Keep DJing? e problem was I had promised Mac I would never DJ for another artist, ever, and I wanted to stick by that. So I had to recalibrate my whole way of thinking.”
Clock knew he would never stop making and presenting music, so production and straight DJ gigs were still in play, but his immediate concern was paying the bills (“I live in New York City,” he says. “ ings aren’t cheap.”). His friend Shyvonne Sanganoo had previously tried to enlist his services
as a teaching artist for a non-pro t organization in New York called Urban Arts Partnership, and he made vague promises to check out their facilities but never followed through on them. In the immediate aftermath of Miller’s death, Clock ran into Sanganoo, ironically at e House of Yes club in New York, and she quickly chastised him for his inaction.
“She gave me this whole speech, and I said, ‘I’m gonna come check you out on Monday,’ and she was like, ‘No you ain’t. I don’t believe you,’” Clock recalls with a laugh. “I ended up going, though, on Monday. She gave me the whole tour and I talked to all the supervisors. I ended up taking the teaching artist position and that changed my life forever.
“I never got a natural high in my life before teaching those kids. I’m not a teacher, I don’t have kids, I’m not around kids. To go into a classroom in New York City – the mecca of hip hop – and teach DJing to kids in Harlem and they love every minute of it, that is crazy ful lling, man,” Clock says. “ ere are kids that graduated and are pursuing DJ careers because of the class I taught. I’ve never felt anything like that in my life.”
Clock has also been busy in the studio. Last year, he put together Remixxed, a reimagined compilation of Miller’s tunes to celebrate what would have been the rapper’s 29th birthday. And this year, Clock dropped his debut solo studio album, a beats release titled Super Beats Tape, an 8-bit videogame soundtrack exhibiting his production skills and musical intuition.
“Super Beats Tape is a project that’s been stemming for two or three years,” says Clock. “It was a bunch of beats I’d been making that maybe I’d sent to an artist and they didn’t use them or beats I made that weren’t being used for anything. So I was doing this cleaning session on my computer and I was like, ‘Yo, I have so many beats. If I put out a beats tape, it will show my production side in addition to being something people can go listen to.’”
“People always had a liking for my production because it’s unique, so it came from years of production and being ignored,” Clock continues. “I was like, ‘Fuck it, let me do my own thing.’”
In addition to Clock’s teaching artist work at Urban Arts, he secured a consulting gig with a high school a liated with UA, which has led to more teaching opportunities for students interested in DJing and music production. UA also has a relationship with several jails in New York, and Clock has signed up for that option as well.
“I haven’t done it yet, but I’m the only one on the list because none of the other teachers want to do it,” he says with a laugh. “I’m like, ‘Let me in there.’” e only thing that slowed Clock’s
as a teaching artist for a non-pro t organization in New York called Urban Arts Partnership, and he made vague promises to check out their facilities but never followed through on them. In the immediate aftermath of Miller’s death, Clock ran into Sanganoo, ironically at e House of Yes club in New York, and she quickly chastised him for his inaction. “She gave me this whole speech, and I said, ‘I’m gonna come check you out on Monday,’ and she was like, ‘No you ain’t. I don’t believe you,’” Clock recalls with a laugh. “I ended up going, though, on Monday. She gave me the whole tour and I talked to all the supervisors. I ended up taking the teaching artist position and that changed my life forever. “I never got a natural high in my life before teaching those kids. I’m not a teacher, I don’t have kids, I’m not around kids. To go into a classroom in New York City – the mecca of hip hop – and teach DJing to kids in Harlem and they love every minute of it, that is crazy ful lling, man,” Clock says. “ ere are kids that graduated and are pursuing DJ careers because of the class I taught. I’ve never felt anything like that in my life.” Clock has also been busy in the studio. Last year, he put together Remixxed, a reimagined compilation of Miller’s tunes to celebrate what would have been the rapper’s 29th birthday. And this year, Clock dropped his debut solo studio album, a beats release titled Super Beats Tape, an 8-bit videogame soundtrack exhibiting his production skills and musical intuition. “Super Beats Tape is a project that’s been stemming for two or three years,” says Clock. “It was a bunch of beats I’d been making that maybe I’d sent to an artist and they didn’t use them or beats I made that weren’t being used for anything. So I was doing this cleaning session on my computer and I was like, ‘Yo, I have so many beats. If I put out a beats tape, it will show my production side in addition to being something people can go listen to.’” “People always had a liking for my production because it’s unique, so it came from years of production and being ignored,” Clock continues. “I was like, ‘Fuck it, let me do my own thing.’” In addition to Clock’s teaching artist work at Urban Arts, he secured a consulting gig with a high school a liated with UA, which has led to more teaching opportunities for students interested in DJing and music production. UA also has a relationship with several jails in New York, and Clock has signed up for that option as well. “I haven’t done it yet, but I’m the only one on the list because none of the other teachers want to do it,” he says with a laugh. “I’m like, ‘Let me in recent progress was the COVID quarantine, and even that wasn’t a major issue. After getting through that time with, as he describes it, “music and a lot of weed,” he continued his personal reinvention and is venturing down new paths this year. He’s just dropped his contribution to the NFT milieu with a ve-track self-titled remix package through Limewire, which has rebranded as an NFT marketplace, and he’s at work on what he calls his “DJ Khalid-type album,” with a lot of features from his many musical friends. Clock also is in the midst of creating a second volume of Remixxed as a tribute to Miller. While some might wonder if listening to Miller’s catalog might trigger bouts of grief, Clock sees it as a labor of love. “I’m making the mix, I’m hearing his voice and I’m excited about it. I’m hearing how things are shaping up, like, ‘ is is about to be re,’ and in that moment, I’m just being creative,” says Clock. “I might hear a certain line where I was in the studio when he recorded it and it might hit a little di erently. ose are moments when I pause the music and it hits me, like, ‘Bro is really gone. We used to do some crazy shit.’” In some ways, Clock says he feels like being the caretaker for Miller’s legacy is part of his purpose going forward. He also acknowledges that between that and the energy he’s devoted to reblazing his career trail, he hasn’t had many opportunities to truly mourn the loss of his best friend. “When he passed, I cried, but I was in a stuck position,” says Clock. “It’s been weird. I’ve tried to accept it, but I might not even know how to accept it. I might not know how to grieve. I just try to stay creative and be super grateful for the time I did have with him.” Part of that gratitude extends to Miller’s fanbase, who have defended Clock against any number of internet trolls. “Shout out to the Macheads, because I know they’ll be reading this,” says Clock. “ ey’ve always had my back whenever anybody posts something negative. I’ve done DJ gigs where I’ll play a set of Mac’s music, and people will come up and say, ‘Man, you never hear Mac in clubs. anks for playing that.’ Sometimes they’ll recognize me, but a lot of times, they just tell me how Mac changed their lives and how much he meant to them, and I just say, ‘Me too. Rest in peace, Mac. Blessings.’” “If I have the platform to keep my friend’s legacy alive, I will,” Clock continues. “I’d want him to do that for me, you know? I just want to keep his name fresh.” there.’” e only thing that slowed Clock’s recent progress was the COVID quarantine, and even that wasn’t a major issue. After getting through that time with, as he describes it, “music and a lot of weed,” he continued his personal reinvention and is venturing down new paths this year. He’s just dropped his contribution to the NFT milieu with a ve-track self-titled remix package through Limewire, which has rebranded as an NFT marketplace, and he’s at work on what he calls his “DJ Khalid-type album,” with a lot of features from his many musical friends. Clock also is in the midst of creating a second volume of Remixxed as a tribute to Miller. While some might wonder if listening to Miller’s catalog might trigger bouts of grief, Clock sees it as a labor of love. “I’m making the mix, I’m hearing his voice and I’m excited about it. I’m hearing how things are shaping up, like, ‘ is is about to be re,’ and in that moment, I’m just being creative,” says Clock. “I might hear a certain line where I was in the studio when he recorded it and it might hit a little di erently. ose are moments when I pause the music and it hits me, like, ‘Bro is really gone. We used to do some crazy shit.’” In some ways, Clock says he feels like being the caretaker for Miller’s legacy is part of his purpose going forward. He also acknowledges that between that and the energy he’s devoted to reblazing his career trail, he hasn’t had many opportunities to truly mourn the loss of his best friend. “When he passed, I cried, but I was in a stuck position,” says Clock. “It’s been weird. I’ve tried to accept it, but I might not even know how to accept it. I might not know how to grieve. I just try to stay creative and be super grateful for the time I did have with him.” Part of that gratitude extends to Miller’s fanbase, who have defended Clock against any number of internet trolls. “Shout out to the Macheads, because I know they’ll be reading this,” says Clock. “ ey’ve always had my back whenever anybody posts something negative. I’ve done DJ gigs where I’ll play a set of Mac’s music, and people will come up and say, ‘Man, you never hear Mac in clubs. anks for playing that.’ Sometimes they’ll recognize me, but a lot of times, they just tell me how Mac changed their lives and how much he meant to them, and I just say, ‘Me too. Rest in peace, Mac. Blessings.’” “If I have the platform to keep my friend’s legacy alive, I will,” Clock continues. “I’d want him to do that for me, you know? I just want to keep his name fresh.”
To learn more about Clockwork DJ To learn more about Clockwork DJ and his upcoming projects, visit gotand his upcoming projects, visit gotclockwork.com. clockwork.com.
SOUND ADVICE SOUND ADVICE
e last time Lucinda Williams tore through our neck of the woods was four years ago when she was sandwiched between opener Steve Earle and headliner Dwight Yoakam at the PNC Pavilion on the cheekily dubbed “LSD Tour.” Williams’ blazing set was conclusive evidence that she easily could have been the evening’s closer, and her appearance on stage with Earle and Yoakam for the main attraction’s closing encore of “Dim Lights, ick Smoke (And Loud, Loud Music)” showed that she stood shoulder to shoulder with the best acts in the Americana scene. It was the thrilling conclusion to a show that was a cartwheeling series of highlights.
From the outset, Williams was a critical if not commercial success, and she could have ridden her songwriting accolades – by way of Mary Chapin Carpenter’s cover of “Passionate Kisses,” which resulted in Williams’ rst Grammy win – to a very comfortable living as a writer providing brilliant material for other performers. But the Louisiana native was born to perform her own work and she proved that with a relentless early career in Texas, playing every honky tonk and dive bar gig she was o ered. Williams’ tenacity and natural ability to inhabit any musical style that caught her ear – country, blues, rock, folk – paid o with her fth album, 1998’s Car Wheels on a Gravel Road, an audio scrapbook of Americana genius that resulted in yet another Grammy win and vaulted her into the wider spotlight.
Williams’ diversity is on constant display, whether in the studio or on stage. She’s covered Bruce Springsteen’s “Factory,” Woody Guthrie’s “House of Earth,” AC/DC’s “It’s a Long Way to the Top” and Jimi Hendrix’s “Angel,” the latter on a jazz collaboration with legendary saxophonist Charles Lloyd. Moreover, the guest lists on her albums read like a who’s who of contemporary music.
But it is in performance where Williams’ luminous musical spirit shines the brightest – where she folds all of her creative gifts into an aural origami swan of exquisite power, gritty beauty and front porch charm. A Lucinda Williams gig is as uplifting as a church service, as sweaty as a roadhouse dance oor, as joyous as a Cajun wedding and as enlightening as a musicologist’s microdosed acid trip.
Lucinda Williams plays Madison
September 30 • Madison eater
e last time Lucinda Williams tore through our neck of the woods was four years ago when she was sandwiched between opener Steve Earle and headliner Dwight Yoakam at the PNC Pavilion on the cheekily dubbed “LSD Tour.” Williams’ blazing set was conclusive evidence that she easily could have been the evening’s closer, and her appearance on stage with Earle and Yoakam for the main attraction’s closing encore of “Dim Lights, ick Smoke (And Loud, Loud Music)” showed that she stood shoulder to shoulder with the best acts in the Americana scene. It was the thrilling conclusion to a show that was a cartwheeling series of highlights.
From the outset, Williams was a critical if not commercial success, and she could have ridden her songwriting accolades – by way of Mary Chapin Carpenter’s cover of “Passionate Kisses,” which resulted in Williams’ rst Grammy win – to a very comfortable living as a writer providing brilliant material for other performers. But the Louisiana native was born to perform her own work and she proved that with a relentless early career in Texas, playing every honky tonk and dive bar gig she was o ered. Williams’ tenacity and eater at 8 p.m. Sept. 30. Doors open at 7 p.m. ere are no COVID-19 protocols in place for the event. Info: madisontheater.com. (Brian Baker) natural ability to inhabit any musical style that caught her ear – country, blues, rock, folk – paid o with her fth album, 1998’s Car Wheels on a Gravel Road, an audio scrapbook of Americana genius that resulted in yet another Grammy win and vaulted her into the wider spotlight.
Williams’ diversity is on constant display, whether in the studio or on stage. She’s covered Bruce Springsteen’s “Factory,” Woody Guthrie’s “House of Earth,” AC/DC’s “It’s a Long Way to the Top” and Jimi Hendrix’s “Angel,” the latter on a jazz collaboration with legendary saxophonist Charles Lloyd. Moreover, the guest lists on her albums read like a who’s who of contemporary music.
But it is in performance where Williams’ luminous musical spirit shines the brightest – where she folds all of her creative gifts into an aural origami swan of exquisite power, gritty beauty and front porch charm. A Lucinda Williams gig is as uplifting as a church service, as sweaty as a roadhouse dance oor, as joyous as a Cajun wedding and as enlightening as a musicologist’s microdosed acid trip.
Lucinda Williams plays Madison eater at 8 p.m. Sept. 30. Doors open at 7 p.m. ere are no COVID-19 protocols in place for the event. Info: madisontheater.com. (Brian Baker)
Lucinda Williams
PHOTO: DANNY CLINCH, ALL EYES MEDIA Lucinda Williams
PHOTO: DANNY CLINCH, ALL EYES MEDIA
BILLY COBHAM BILLY COBHAM Oct. 2 • Ludlow Garage
Panamanian drummer Billy Cobham rst rose to prominence in the 1960s and 1970s as a collaborating musician with Miles Davis and member of innovative and in uential jazz fusion band Mahavishnu Orchestra. On Oct. 2, the legendary drummer will make a stop at Clifton’s Ludlow Garage with his Crosswinds Project.
Often referred to as the fusion genre’s greatest drummer, Cobham was named one of the 25 most in uential drummers in 2001 by Modern Drummer magazine. His style is frenetic, expansive and precise like a calculated explosion in rhythm.
In 1971, Cobham became a member of the acclaimed jazz fusion band Mahavishnu Orchestra in its rst incarnation after playing with the band’s founder, guitarist John McLaughlin, on Miles Davis records — including the experimental classic Bitches Brew. e jazz fusion band found success on Columbia Records, pushing boundaries and nding new ground with a mix of jazz, funk, rock and roll and Indian classical music.
In addition to Miles Davis and Mahavishnu Orchestra, Cobham played on records for jazz legends like Mose Allison, Quincy Jones, Sonny Rollins and McCoy Tyner. Not just limited to jazz, Cobham also worked on recordings for singer-songwriter Carly Simon, ‘70s funk band e Brothers Johnson and Grateful Dead side project Bobby and the Midnites.
Cobham also has an extensive career as a bandleader, stretching percussion into even more innovative spheres illustrated in dozens of albums released between 1973 (Spectrum) and 2021
Oct. 2 • Ludlow Garage
Panamanian drummer Billy Cobham rst rose to prominence in the 1960s and 1970s as a collaborating musician with Miles Davis and member of innovative and in uential jazz fusion band Mahavishnu Orchestra. On Oct. 2, the legendary drummer will make a stop at Clifton’s Ludlow Garage with his Crosswinds Project.
Often referred to as the fusion genre’s greatest drummer, Cobham was named one of the 25 most in uential drummers in 2001 by Modern Drummer magazine. His style is frenetic, expansive and precise like a calculated explosion in rhythm. In 1971, Cobham became a member of the acclaimed jazz fusion band Mahavishnu Orchestra in its rst incarnation after playing with the band’s founder, guitarist John McLaughlin, on Miles Davis records — including the experimental classic Bitches Brew. e jazz fusion band found success on Columbia Records, pushing boundaries and nding new ground with a mix of jazz, funk, rock and roll and Indian classical music. In addition to Miles Davis and (Drum’n Voice Remixed 2). e Crosswinds Project began in 2018 and revisits Cobham’s 1974 Crosswinds album and other innovative work from the 1970s. It continues with 30 more dates this fall. Billy Cobham’s Crosswinds Project features Scott Tibbs on keyboards, Tim Landers on bass and Mark Whit eld on guitar. Billy Cobham plays Ludlow Garage at 7:30 p.m. Oct. 2. Doors open at 6 p.m. ere are no COVID-19 protocols in place for the event. Info: ludlowgaragecincinnati.com. (Brent Stroud)
Mahavishnu Orchestra, Cobham played on records for jazz legends like Mose Allison, Quincy Jones, Sonny Rollins and McCoy Tyner. Not just limited to jazz, Cobham also worked on recordings for singer-songwriter Carly Simon, ‘70s funk band e Brothers Johnson and Grateful Dead side project Bobby and the Midnites.
Cobham also has an extensive career as a bandleader, stretching percussion into even more innovative spheres illustrated in dozens of albums released between 1973 (Spectrum) and 2021 (Drum’n Voice Remixed 2). e Crosswinds Project began in 2018 and revisits Cobham’s 1974 Crosswinds album and other innovative work from the 1970s. It continues with 30 more dates this fall. Billy Cobham’s Crosswinds Project features Scott Tibbs on keyboards, Tim Landers on bass and Mark Whit eld on guitar.
Billy Cobham plays Ludlow Garage at 7:30 p.m. Oct. 2. Doors open at 6 p.m. ere are no COVID-19 protocols in place for the event. Info: ludlowgaragecincinnati.com. (Brent Stroud)
Billy Cobham
PHOTO: PROVIDED BY BILLY COBHAM Billy Cobham
PHOTO: PROVIDED BY BILLY COBHAM
