L.A. RECORD 133 - FALL 2018

L.A. RECORD

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FALL 2018 ISSUE 133 • FREE

FAT TONY JUPITER BLACK BRANDON COLEMAN SUZANNE CIANI CULTURE ABUSE SCIENTISTS AOLANI AND MORE

6 BRANDON COLEMAN Christina Gubala

24 SUZANNE CIANI Christina Gubala

10 FAT TONY TOLLIVER

28 OBJECT AS SUBJECT Daiana Feuer

12 AOLANI SYDNEY SWEENEY

32 JUPITER BLACK TOLLIVER

16 SCIENTISTS GABRIEL HART

36 CULTURE ABUSE Bennett Kogon

20 JURASSIC SHARK SIMON WEEDN

38 JOEY DOSIK Daiana Feuer PHOTO: JOEY DOSIK

by MAXIMILIAN HO

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EDITOR — Chris Ziegler chris@larecord.com PUBLISHER — Kristina Benson kristina@larecord.com EXECUTIVE EDITOR — Daiana Feuer daiana@larecord.com COMICS EDITOR — Tom Child tom@larecord.com FILM EDITOR — Rin Kelly rin@larecord.com DESIGNER — Sarah Bennett sarah@larecord.com ONLINE PHOTO EDITOR — Debi Del Grande debi@larecord.com WRITER AT LARGE — Ron Garmon ron@larecord.com ACCOUNTS AND ADVERTISING Kristina Benson — kristina@larecord.com CONTRIBUTING WRITERS Zach Bilson, Tom Child,Julia Gibson, Christina Gubala, Gabriel Hart, Zachary Jensen, Bennett Kogon, Eyad Karkoutly, Nathan Martel, Joe Rihn, Ben Salmon, Kegan Pierce Simons, Sydney Sweeney, Tolliver and Simon Weedn CONTRIBUTING DESIGNERS Kristina Benson, Jun Ohnuki CONTACT fortherecord@larecord.com BRANDON COLEMAN COVER Gari Askew FAT TONY COVER Alex The Brown All content © 2018 L.A. RECORD and YBX Media, Inc. L.A. RECORD is proudly distributed

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BRANDON COLEMAN Interview by christina gubala photography by gari askew Like many brilliant session musicians before him, Brandon Coleman’s first major solo release has been a long time coming. His behind-the-scenes credits are downright regal—artists from Aretha Franklin to Earth, Wind and Fire to Patrice Rushen have entrusted him to enhance their sound, and yet Coleman maintains a perfectly balanced and passionate humility. Known to fans of Kamasi Washington’s band as Professor Boogie, Coleman is one of the few keytar wizards that can make the instrument look as cool as it sounds. Perhaps it’s his uncanny autodidactic musical abilities that made his every word seem energized, but the brilliance of the music that races through his mind served as an undercurrent to this entire conversation. As I spoke to Coleman, he’d explain his references to me on his electric piano, recreating, for example, a Michael Jackson string arrangement—which confirmed that though I might not know someone’s name, I sure as hell would recognize their work. We spoke about Resistance, his new Brainfeeder solo release, and about what resistance means to him in this age of relentless change.

Resistance—I listened to it quite a few times and I’m really enjoying it. As soon as I heard ‘Giant Feelings’ I was like, ‘I know this! I remember this from the Hollywood Bowl.’ Were you on stage last year when Herbie Hancock and the Kamasi Washington band played?

Absolutely! Absolutely. Kamasi called me out of the blue on day and he was gonna do—he was gonna open up for Herbie! ‘What do you think about doing an orchestral arrangement for “Giant Feelings”?’ I’m like, ‘I haven’t arranged anything in a while so … I’ll do it but …’ I said let’s do it and see how it works out and we did it and it was really nice, really good.

It was really memorable. As soon as I heard that opening horn section on the track I was like, ‘I know this one.’ It was a really poignant moment. Was that the first time you crossed paths with Herbie?

I’ve seen Herbie a lot. I’ve met him at different times—it’s like we were just meeting again so it was weird. I’ve seen him at NAMM a couple times, see him in passing … but I’d love to connect and literally sit with the master.

I feel bad bringing him up so much but I’m a huge fan. I know he made one of the first records that drew you in and made jazz click.

I started off just in Los Angeles, started off playing music at a really early age. I was a drummer at first and drummers like Robert Miller and Ronald Bruner when I was in third grade … they sounded exactly the way they sound now. It kinda deterred me away from music a little bit so I just went to Power Rangers and Voltron and that type of stuff!

Until one day I’m at church … our organist just like quit, like literally quit. I had like two chords on the piano that I always played and my mom was like, ‘Go play those chords!’ and I was like, ‘Uhhhh … really? It’s not even in key?’ But this was really before I knew any of that. I just ran over to the organ and I just played those two chords and they all jumped to my keys and that’s literally how it started right there. I didn’t really grow up with hiphop and rap. I grew up with a lot of jazz INTERVIEW

and a lot of Chick Corea, Herbie Hancock, Oscar Peterson, Kenny Kirkland … it’s a very interesting path. I was in the hood and I was around everything that you would see in those videos … I grew up in South Central.

But since I had jazz, it seemed like … I don’t know, I just looked at everything differently.

Especially music.

It’s cool to see jazz get closer to the mainstream than it’s been. I feel like the music you make is partly responsible.

When we first started touring, we were opening up for like DJs. It was really unorthodox. Usually I’ve been touring playing jazz and all types of venues and bands and artists, so I’ve seen the full gamut of what it is. I noticed once we started playing, people gravitated towards it. We’ve been playing this music and playing this way for a long time.

I’d say for the last 20-25 years? Now it’s weird that everybody’s like … in it! It’s making me dig deeper to figure out why? What are we feeding that they weren’t before? Especially opening up for DJs, you got literally 20,000 people waiting for this DJ and they see this jazz crew come up there. I guess a bit of that pressure fuels the movement a little. We can kinda do what DJs do— Yeah, but like right before your eyes!

But like … for real! But really! I’m going for that aspect. I wanna take music back to the artistry. Which was why I did the bulk of the vocals on my record through a vocoder—it symbolizes musicality. And where I feel the industry is at, and where the world is at.

When did you notice jazz working back into the mainstream?

There was a slow build. Our first AfricanAmerican president, I think that awakened people on a different level. And they react to the music differently. Politics definitely plays a big role in how and what is perceived.

People were awakened at that moment— people wanted to hear this music. People were searching for this music. And the industry was doing the complete opposite, literally.

Everything seems more soulful and more urgent right now—it’s like something in the soul started stirring and this music worked its way back in.

Absolutely. The frequencies—that’s a big thing. Frequencies don’t lie. And the social climate. The social climate right now— #MeToo and all these different movements that represent culturally what’s happening.

We can’t help but to be influenced by that.

I wrote ‘Giant Feelings’ in New York just walking the streets feeling literally like, ‘Why do we hate so much? Why is it ingrained in our system so much we can’t change it?’ I tried to start writing songs with those frequencies that just exude love and take it from there.

I wrote the word ‘joyful’ when I was listening to Resistance. That’s an interesting title for such a loving record. It’s got a lot of Earth Wind & Fire breathing through it.

Literally working with countless producers and songwriters—from Babyface to Kamasi to Thundercat to Anthony Hamilton to Tricia Batanni to … So many writers I’ve written with in the past, I can just remember that one moment, that one precipice where I wanted to take the music another direction and I’d get met with a little resistance. I was too jazzy, I was too funky, I was R&B or I was too gospel or I was too much like country … they’d even say country and I’d say, ‘It’s too much like country? OK, OK, I’ll take the country out!’ But I felt like I needed to create something that had all of that under the umbrella, or do something that was just free.

I wanted to create music like, ‘This is what it is. This is what I’m hearing.’ And of course it’s got a bit of a social and political aspect with ‘resistance.’ I feel like everybody is resisting now. Women are resisting saying, ‘No! Fuck that! We need the same goddamn bread as you’re paying this guy!’ That’s resistance. All those things we’re fighting for. Fighting for freedom—communities kicking immigrants out for no goddamn reason. There’s plenty to resist. Whatever I can start from my music, I wanna start. Whatever movement I can create, whatever can I jolt into somebody who listens to this and says, ‘Goddamnit, I know what to do!’ … that’s what this music is for.

I find tech a bit overwhelming and electronic music can be overwhelming— DJ sets and over-production and things

being all produced on a computer. It seems like what you make is organic—in opposition. But you’ve chosen to sing through a vocoder.

I was always fascinated with the vocoder from the first time I heard Herbie Hancock’s Sunlight and my brother gave it to me one night and I remember asking him, ‘Hey, man—what the hell is happening with his voice? Why does it sound like that?’ ‘It’s a vocoder—he synthesized his voice and you play the notes …’ and he explained it to me.

From there, that was it. I always wanted to be … to create the most realest sound, and I love the tone of like Mel Torme and Ron Isley.

And then you got David Ruffin and then you got Marvin Gaye. And then you got Michael Jackson. I’m talking about jheri-curl Jackson!

And little kid Jackson who’s a little bad boy!

But I’m talking about jheri-curl Jackson, ‘Rock With You’ Jackson.

I think Off The Wall may be my favorite.

Off The Wall—yeah! All those productions definitely inspired this music and inspired me. And it’s weird because obviously the industry … I’ve seen just from being a producer and being a songwriter behind the scenes, I’ve seen people try to … I guess steer away from the music. And I’m going closer to it! I’m like, ‘Man, there’s a certain vision for this and you can honor it!’ Honor this music—it doesn’t have to be this fake bullshit, it can be real stuff. Go write a song and mean it and don’t give a fuck about what people or what you think people want. There’s a certain aspect of wanting to give people what they want that—but I’ve definitely noticed that I have something to share with the world. And that really can’t be tainted. So I can’t really give them what they want! I’ve gotta just do what it is I got.

People probably want the same things you do! If you’re feeling it, that means it’s needed. That’s the payoff! Once you walk in that direction, it just happens regardless.

Once whatever it is gets moving in that direction, it just happens anyway.

Just establish what’s inside you and the people who wanna be there will be drawn into it.

7

Exactly.

Oh—who have you been listening to lately that’s not in your direct orbit?

I can tell you that right now! You’re sure you wanna know this?

Deeply.

Nicki Minaj.

What do you think about Queen? I haven’t listened to it yet.

I listen to to hip-hop for other reasons, alternative reasons. I listen to hip-hop so I can stay kinda current, so when I go in to write music or write these sessions, I’m not going in not knowing what’s happening. I’m not that musician who just doesn’t know what’s happening. So even if I’m not feeling the music, I’m still trying to figure out a way to vibe with it. That record in particular … (long pause) yeah, it’s very fun. But I have other records I’ve been listening to. Louis Cole, whose record is amazing. Bon Jovi, I really dig. Kenny Kirkland. Dusty Springfield, she’s got record called Dusty In Memphis … it’s crazy-ass orchestrations. The Four Tops, I been into a bunch of Motown stuff. I studied certain time periods heavily so I can kinda get the voice and the melodies I wanted. And of course Aretha Franklin.

I kinda had a little freakout the day she died. I was in the car when I found out Prince had passed away, and I scrolled through the radio dial just to see and every single station was playing Prince. I was so taken by that moment. But when Aretha passed, I was on my way to work and I scrolled through the station—even the Stevie Wonder station KJLH—and nobody! Nothing! Nobody was even talking about it. Not Coast, not KDAY … I called KDAY! I called Romeo in the Morning and I got through right to Romeo and he’s like, ‘Hey, it’s National Joke Day! Tell me a joke!’ and I was like … Jesus Christ! ‘I was just calling to request some Aretha Franklin, man.’

That’s so sad. That’s upsetting.

It rocked my world. When I was driving home, I turned the radio on and finally KJLH had come around and they were doing a heavy heavy tribute and they were having listeners call in. So maybe it was just prep. I don’t mean to throw ‘em under the bus. But the rest of L.A. … there’s no excuse. I was bummed out.

The reason Aretha Franklin is so powerful especially for Black men … is honestly, that’s the first [voice] I can remember singing.

Every Black woman at that time tried to sound like Aretha. Especially if you’re going to church. She was kinda the first to start implementing the secular style of music into gospel. And doing pop songs. Her voice is beyond legendary. It’s like she like created a way for people to sing. I met her, and I got a chance to hear her play piano.

That’s something you have in your heart for the rest of your life.

And not even that—we toured with her! I did a few shows with her with Babyface. We opened up for her and I just remember that show, it was so powerful. Because we did our show … ‘And every little step I take!’ and we thought we were done. And when she went on with her group, they came out with [does 8

some melismatic vocals] and it was cool … and this was a big arena, too, and then I remember she took ‘em to church for like at least 30 minutes. I’m not talking about this new church I’m talking about. I’m talking about old school Baptist. Like there was no drumming, she was just rumbling on a chord, on a drone, you know … the first drone.

Literally just droning on a chord for thirty minutes and singing these riffs over this and I mean … We were backstage trying to have a drink and chill out and we couldn’t even chill!

Nobody could do nothing backstage. It was so much hype because of what she was doing.

You couldn’t do no wrong! I was like, ‘You know what? I’m gonna go out there and try and holler at some ladies’ and I can’t even … this is like my mama is telling me no!

Maybe that’s how you conjure God—just start droning. And whipping everybody into a frenzy and then there’s God. Yeah! She definitely had God in there. It was powerful. I’m not a big church guy. I hadn’t been to church in a while. So it was like … whatever this is, this is SOMETHING. I always felt that in church. Something! You see one of those ladies get up there and sing one of those songs, you feel something. ‘What the hell is that?’ I mean, ‘What the HECK is that? What in the heck is that?’

The force that can counter hell!

I think so! I mean … honestly! I think whatever that force is it’s the force that is in the West Coast Get Down collective. This is what we’re streaming. That’s what people are getting—the basics of that, every time they hear us. We need to know our history.

If we know how we got here, we can go much further. Right now we’re kinda stuck on stupid.

We need it! I’m thankful to y’all for coming out so strong and also being so prolific.

Everybody in your orbit is putting out music hard. Nobody takes breaks! I hope you take care of yourselves during the downtime.

Downtime? What is that?

That’s where you watch Netflix.

Netflix? Who is that? I don’t know this new … I still have VCRs. I have to go to old school with that stuff. I guarantee you right now I can show you Total Recall on on VCR and you’ll love it better than any HDTV. My parents used to have Total Recall on VCR and that was the first time I ever saw someone with three boobs and it rocked my childhood world.

Fuck yeah. But I mean, I’ve seen that now ... no, I’m just kidding. I had to ask my mom, ‘She’s in space … that’s not normal, right?’

‘Don’t get your hopes up.’

I’d think, ‘That’s not movie magic … it’s three!

One … two … three! One in the middle!?’

And now you’re directing videos for Brainfeeder.

Absolutely. They’ve given me an opportunity to do some things I’ve been wanting to do for a while. Like a little directing in me I never knew existed—I directed a couple music videos that are coming out. Two more and one animated.

You did music on Kuso—Flying Lotus’ directorial debut. Did that spark this movement into directing?

Of course! Of course! I’ve been working and writing with Donald Glover for the last few months for his new record and his new project. Those guys—him, Flying Lotus— those guys really inspire me. They’re taking and changing the realm—changing the game now. It’s funny. Harvey Weinstein, all these big producers, my prediction is there’s a reason all these big shots are going down. You have to make room for the new! That’s the only way. It’s fucked up how it’s going down.

But hey, you did some fucking shit. Karma’s a bitch. It’s coming to fucking get you. Now we’re moving in another new era of directing and moviemaking. These guys inspire me to just explore that side. Growing up in Los Angeles, you can’t help but to have a little bit of some movie magic in you.

You can’t help but imagine yourself in a movie when you live here. And if you’ve already got music in your heart and soul, you’re soundtracking it. I don’t know if that’s an L.A. thing or …

I think it is. Because everyone I know that moves to L.A. always gets that something of that feeling ... something is conjured up.

I guess this world is all about people who do and people who don’t. I’m one of those people where I can see it, and if I can find a gateway to get in, I’m gonna get in. Like now … once I told them I wanted to do some music videos, they’re like, ‘OK. Where’s your budget? Just figure it out.’ ‘Wait a minute— you’re serious? I gotta write a script? I gotta find a director? I gotta hire a production team?’ It forced me to learn this really quick but it was something I’ve been wanting to do so I wanted to do it. Brainfeeder’s been great so far. Really good.

Jay Z once said there are no geniuses—only people who tap into their creative power and ability. Once you tap into whatever your creative ability is, you can tap into anything.

Because whatever you touch at that moment, as long as you have that same intention … me jumping to directing, I’m looking at it like … I am a director! And I just needed to learn how to format a script. I understand how production works, I’ve worked in this industry for twenty-plus years. I’ve done a lot of TV, a lot of film, a lot behind the scenes. It’s just a little bit of me actually going forward and actually doing it.

I’m curious about the Young Jazz Giants that used to play at 5th Street Dicks in the old days in Leimert Park. Was that a beginning of sorts for you?

The Young Jazz Giants—technically I was not even playing yet. You gotta understand, all these guys … Here’s the real miracle, technically. All these guys had already been playing music really seriously. I didn’t start playing piano til I was about 15 and a half, 16. These guys were already in it, already had that band, had been playing music. I was just starting—literally. I remember meeting Kamasi and him listening to me play a couple chords and giving me that look like, ‘Uhhhh … yeah, man, go home and practice.’ That gave me so much motivation. The story goes … a year later, I came back and was like … better than everybody else? But it’s not true.

I was more focused. I’m a quick learner. I know exactly how to break down whatever

it is and go straight to it. Music was pretty easy, you know? It was more getting the skill and remembering everything. I should write a book one day of How To Learn Anything Without Having Any Skill. Because I’m selftaught.

In everything?

Everything.

How did you move from piano to keytar?

And what can you do with a keytar that you can’t do on your standard synthesizer?

The biggest thing you can do on your keytar is look cool. Like the guitar player is wheelin’ around on the stage trying to look sexy, opening his shirt—that hasn’t changed since the tar pits. This has gone on way too long. Especially with keytars. Keytars around the musician community have kind of been known as a little corny. And a little cheesy.

Unless its in the hands of Dam-Funk or Prince or Herbie.

Somebody cool! Of course! Unless it’s Herbie or George Duke or Jan Hammer, of course!

Jan Hammer!

But a lot of people aren’t those people. So …

I’ve tried it! Back in the day, I’d just show up to a jam session or gig in L.A. with a keytar thinking I’m gonna play, and everybody’s looking at me like, ‘Wow … you really gonna do this?’ And I’m standing there like, ‘Yeah!

I’m doing this, man!’ That’s another thing I realized. I realized that the look of the keytar had to be something cool, and if it looked cool enough, then they wouldn’t dismiss it so quickly. And I started studying guitar players and bass players. Studying certain riffs and certain ways of thinking. Like you think like a guitar player, you think like a bass player … that’s what makes my keytar playing so unique. I’m thinking like a bass player and guitar player and a keyboard player. And I can change the sounds to something as far as Daft Punk to Muse to I dunno … I wanna say Justin Bieber but uhhhhhh …

Lord only knows what he’s up to these days.

Having some fun somewhere.

Who are the guitar players and bass players you studied?

I loved and always will study Prince. Catfish, which is Bootsy Collins’ brother. Bootsy Collins. You mean my secrets? My secret secrets? Albert King. Albert King … Paul McCartney, Jimi Hendrix, anybody who plays the blues, anybody for real, especially rock ‘n’ roll, they all listened to Albert King.

I went into a Marcus Miller show and Bobby Sparks was playing organ and playing clavinet and changed my life that night, and after the show that night I said, ‘Hey, man—what do I got to do to be funky like this? Because I’m just keyboard-player funky, I ain’t funky like for real life.’ And he was like, ‘Man, keyboard players don’t listen to guitar players, and guitar players got the funk.’ I was like, ‘Guitar players got the funk?’ So I started listening to guitar players and then I started listening to bass players, too. He didn’t tell me that but I wanted both. That’s what kinda changed the game. And Albert King is one of those guys that is … he plays the same solo, the same solo every single song! Literally. I studied all his records. I’m a little bit of a geek once I kinda get into something. I love John Williams, so INTERVIEW

once I got into John Williams I studied like all of his movies. I’m talking like … I’d listen to it over and over and over. That’s how I got into Herbie. I listened to it over and over and over until it just came out of me.

That was how he taught himself, too, wasn’t it?

Interesting.

He has this fascinating memoir.

It’s some Herbie word …

Possibilities!

I love that book. It’s one of my favorites.

I wanna ask about moments in your life when you felt most challenged, and what you did to overcome.

Something that truly challenged me in my career? Maybe not being able to read music.

What was happening with me is I learned music so quickly and I was learning at a professional level, and I’m a charismatic guy so I was getting a lot of gigs. And opportunities started getting bigger and bigger. It went from like working at a coffeehouse and somebody hearing me like, ‘Hey, man, you should come and do this gig at this club with Tommy Davidson,’ you know, and you can’t say no?

And then Brian McKnight is like, ‘Hey, man, can you go on tour with me?’ And then David Foster’s like, ‘Hey, man, dump that tour—I got a better tour with this girl Renee Olstead. It’s a jazz tour and you need to be playing jazz.’ I was like, ‘Uhhhh … OK!’ All of those things … I laugh, it’s a lot going on!

Did things move that quickly?

All that was in the first three years of me playing piano. Then I started meeting musicians and doing little session work and then, ‘Oh! I can write a song!’ and then writing songs and … it all just developed over time.

When did you start arranging?

The first time I got a chance to arrange for an orchestra was a gig with a good buddy of mine named James Torme, son of the late great jazz singer Mel Torme. We’re good friends, and at the time, we were doing a lot of gigs around town together. He gave me the opportunity to arrange some music for a big orchestra. Just the way I do now, I had to study up! The way the internet works now, it’s so easy to search anything. Find anything.

Back in the day, the search engines and the algorithms weren’t as fast and developed and as broad as they are now. So you had to find shit for real—google it a certain way to find how to do something. So I had to learn how to orchestrate. I tried to do it online and then I went and found a bunch of books. The Arranger, by Don Sebesky. And surprisingly, I did a gig in L.A. and in the audience was this older British lady who came up like, ‘I really loved your piano playing. You’re just … amazing, just excellent. You should come and meet my’—by the way, my British accent is horrible—it will not be British. But she was British. We had a nice conversation and she told me she played piano and said her husband was an arranger and I should meet him? ‘I would love to meet any arranger.’ She said he was an amazing string arranger, and ‘in fact, we’re having a birthday for him, a little small thing, a shindig at our place in Beverly Hills … you should come through!’ ‘Perfect!’

Literally the next day. So the next day I go over and they got a beautiful house, and she answers the door with a camera, like filming me. I’m like, ‘What’s going on?’ All I hear is piano playing, like the most beautiful piano playing I’ve ever heard in my entire life!

Who was it?

His name is Jeremy Lubbock—big time string arranger. He did pretty much anything you’ve heard with Quincy Jones, Michael Jackson, any of that. I walk in and he’s playing piano and I’m literally about to cry because it was so beautiful. You know—rich folks, they know how to have the right piano and the right acoustics. I just end up sitting down and playing with him and he was fascinated by it for whatever reason—he loved my piano playing. He told me, ‘Come by tomorrow!’ This is all happening within a day! This is why this story is so significant.

‘Come by tomorrow, man, and I’ll show you a few things.’ ‘Dude, I would love it!

I’d love to learn any string arranging. That’s all I care about.’ So I go by and he gives me like a two-hour lesson. It was like the only orchestral lesson I’ve ever had! But that lesson showed me everything. He showed me little techniques and little ways to write stuff and stuff to not do, and I just remembered everything he said. And it was like, ‘OK, now I’m ready to write an orchestra … sort of.’

So no formal training but that? Just a needto-know basis?

I had drum lessons early on but I never would pay attention to the lessons. I just wasn’t that interested in being a drummer. My brother is an educator and he’s the one who showed me everything. My brother was in high school and I was probably eleven.

He’s your earliest teacher.

Yeah—my brother would have like big band rehearsals in my living room. And it was his big band. He’d be like 15 years old with a big band doing gigs around town. That’s my brother. Now he has his own music

conservatory he runs over in the Inland Empire. So I’m real proud of him.

That’s a wonderful thing!

It’s weird because I wasn’t even in music. He was the guy literally doing everything—some prodigy doing everything.

You have a very musical family.

We have an uncle who was maybe the first Black violinist in the Chicago Philharmonic.

Is this your first solo release?

Yes—well, technically I did another I did another release with a label called Beat Records and the record was called Self-Taught. Two or three years ago. But this is my first major solo release so I’m excited for it.

Do you plan to tour on this record?

I definitely plan to tour. I don’t have anything planned. I plan to get to Europe. South Africa. Mars … I think. Corporate stuff. If Elon Musk wants me to play his daughter’s graduation, I would do it.

Quinceanera on Mars.

Exactly! I will bring … what is that thing called? Pinata? That tells you how long since I been a kid. When you’re a kid, there’s a few words you just know and that’s one word you know. You don’t forget piñata, you don’t forget ice cream, you don’t forget fifty cents … shit like that. I don’t know I forgot that!

Gotta check my kid card at the door.

Now you’ll remember.

And music is a great trigger.

BRANDON COLEMAN’S RESISTANCE IS OUT NOW ON BRAINFEEDER. VISIT BRANDON COLEMAN AT BRANDONCOLEMAN. LOVE OR INSTAGRAM.COM/ BRANDONCOLEMAN.

FAT TONY Interview by TOLLIVER photography by ALEX THE BROWN Fat Tony is either half way around the world with Virgil Abloh, playing a set in your city, or is in that YouTube thumbnail you keep scrolling over. The ubiquitous rapper slash musician slash game show host is a staple of L.A.’s eastside live music scene—think Zebulon or the Satellite—but I would stop short of calling him ‘underground.’ He’s endlessly active and has a breadth of talent that’s rare for anyone, musician or otherwise. His newest album 10,000 Hours (out Sept. 28 on Don Giovanni) is part victory lap and part celebration of an artist who’s mastered at least a few of the five elements. It’s also intimate in a way that made me uncomfortable, rattling in its honesty and clear expressions of love and struggle. Strong recommend. When we talked, he was in his hometown Houston prepping for a set—one of a few cross-country dates he’s playing before he pops out for a more extensive tour.

You’re playing Houston tonight.

Sure am, man. I’m in my frickin’ home town, I can’t believe it. I’m literally sitting in my childhood bedroom right now, man. This room is really special to me, cause it used to be my parents room when I was a kid. When I was in the sixth grade, we had a house fire right before Christmas and this entire second story burned down and we lost everything.

We lost most of my baby pictures, all of my mom and dad’s record collection, I lost tons of my toys and books and video games, and we had to start over. So we moved to another part of Third Ward. And we just rebuilt this house after a year or two of hard work, and then we moved back in. And this room that became my room … is like a reset for me.

I’m sitting here, I’m looking around. It’s still painted the same color that it was when we rebuilt this house. All those thoughts start coming back to me man—it’s some serious nostalgia going on right now.

You’ve been an emissary for hip-hop with your monthly FUNCTION parties in Mexico City, but what about your own journey? How did you end up in L.A.?

I started making music as a kid in Houston.

I wanted to make music that resembled a lot of my early heroes like Devin the Dude and UGK and Lil’ Keke and Big Moe. People like them and Scarface were my very first idols.

Then when I got into high school, I started to get into this crew Native Tongues. I loved crews, I loved Tribe. So I started a rap group called The Low End, named after The Low End Theory. And my dream was to be like Q-Tip. I wanted to be like a producer/rapper that was in a group where another rapper was kind of a fire lyricist, kinda like Phife Dawg or Bun B, and just be the support—the nucleus for the group. For my first album I met my longtime producer Shaka, a.k.a. Tom Cruz a.k.a. GLDN_EYE. He’s also an artist that goes against the grain that’s also from the south. He was raised in Atlanta. And like me he has a parent that’s a foreigner. My dad is Nigerian, his dad is Jamaican. So we could identify in a lot of different ways. He’s had production on all of my albums since. I never want to imitate what the mainstream’s doing; I don’t even want to imitate what the underground’s doing. I want to make sure 10

that I stand out in some way, shape or form.

It’s really important to me to stand on my own and have an identity.

What role does Hevln play in this? He produced most of the new album.

I’ve known Hevln damn near all my life. I was friends with his little sister. Her and I were really into punk music. We would jam together and go to feminist rallies, go to shows and do all the things that little bad punk kids do. I always admired him cause he was one of the first people I saw who played in a band and who played shows and he had a Myspace page with a lot of music on it. He was an example of what I wanted to be: a professional artist. When I moved to L.A. at the end of 2016, he and I lived together for a little over a year. During that time I made a lot of music with him. I had no intention of making an album or anything—we were just making songs for fun. It came from a really pure place. After about a year of doing that, I took a look at our recordings and I was like, ‘Damn, maybe we have something here. Let’s try to make a project.’

Tell me about ‘Charles.’ That’s a beautiful arrangement of a very personal song.

So ‘Charles’ is about my brother. He’s autistic and non-verbal and he’s been that way for as long as I remember. It was originally a song I wrote with my group Charge it to the Game. We put out that song on our EP back in 2016. I always loved that song—thought it was really touching. I thought it was the best song I ever made. Last year I wrote an essay for Talk House about me and my brother’s relationship—about how I’ve come to understand that we have our own way of communication, our own way of expression that’s really different from most siblings that I know. I’ve known people to have an autistic sibling, but I’ve never known anyone to have a non-verbal one. That was something that I always felt alone about. It sounds silly but I grew up seeing sibling relationships in media and kinda longing for that. I wanted to have a brother that was my best friend that I ran around town with and did all kinds of stuff with and taught things … to have that really close experience. As I got older, I started to examine our relationship more and I realized we have our own way of sharing things—of

communicating things—that I can’t really compare to anything else and I saw the beauty in that. And I wanted to honor it.

On ‘Rumors’, you talk about a really intense high school experience.

There’s a website called Xanga. These kids in my high school made this anonymous page where they would talk shit about people at school. They made a post about me saying that I’ve asked all these girls out and asked them to be my girlfriend and they’ve all turned me down. It also named some of the girls they were calling sluts and said they were hooking up with me and they’re trashy and all this shit. Most of it wasn’t true. Some of it was true. There was one or two girls in there that I had crushes on and they told me they weren’t interested. I thought my reputation was ruined like, ‘Oh, I’m such a loser.’ And I go to school and it turns out people are laughing at it in a way that didn’t feel that cruel. People were aware that it was a meanspirited thing and it wasn’t cool. Even the principal spoke with me and was like, ‘This is some bullshit.’ I started to make friends with people who read about that thing who didn’t really know me before. And the girls that wrote it got called out by some of the girls that they were talking shit about, and they had a confrontation one morning when I was going to school and that was that.

Did that affect how you interact with women?

No because people didn’t change the way they behaved around me. No one came back to me like, ‘Oh, you’re such a loser. Oh, you suck.’ People were nice to me.

You’ve said in the past you want to do more than music. With your hand in so many pots, how will you know when you’ve made it? When you get 8 million streams, for example? What’s the marker?

I feel like there’s no end to this thing. I feel lucky I’ve been able to be a working artist since 2011. I’ve never been forced to take any work that isn’t related to my talents or creativity. I think that’s what we all dream of. To be able to feed yourself and your loved ones is incredible, and so many people don’t get that opportunity. I definitely feel like I’ve made it in that sense. This isn’t something just to do while we’re young. I hope to find

new ways to be creative and express myself til I die. I want to keep writing and writing and singing and being a DJ. I want to be coming with something new when I’m 70 years old.

You’re very busy.

I sure am. [laughs] You have to be when you’re working class and you’re freelance. You have to take as many jobs as time allows.

You’re going on tour very soon, and you’ve been back and forth to Paris a couple times this year. Does it feel hectic? Or are you managing?

The only hectic part is scheduling. Making sure I’m getting the best deal on flights, making sure I’m staying on time for everything—for press and for shows and for [his YouTube series] “Thrift Haul” and for all this stuff. And also at this point in my life, I like being home. When I’m not working I want to be home enjoying where I live— relaxing and enjoying my life. I just came across a tweet I wrote in 2013, and I said, ‘I would like to be on tour 300 days out of the year.’ I don’t feel like that anymore. Being a performer is my favorite part of being a musician, but I value my home life more than I ever have. Maybe that’s something that just came with age.

This was actually supposed to be my first question, and it’s not even a question. I saw in an interview that you said L.A. has $7 banh mi. I’m telling you, man—they got it for $2 in Chinatown.

That’s how it should be!

Is that how it is in Houston?

That is absolutely how it is here. Houston has the most Vietnamese people outside of Vietnam. I’ve grown up with Vietnamese people and food my entire life and I’m used to a banh mi that’s a fair price. It’s a real crime when restaurants try to take a quote unquote ‘ethnic’ food and spike up the price and try to pass it off as this exotic new thing.

It’s street food, dude. Give it some respect.

When I saw you said that, I thought, ‘That’s criminal.’

Criminal! I’ll never buy it.

FAT TONY’S 10,000 HOURS IS OUT FRI., SEPT. 28, ON DON GIOVANNI. VISIT FAT TONY AT FATTONYRAP. BANDCAMP.COM. INTERVIEW

AOLANI Interview by sydney sweeney photography by stefano galli

At its deepest, romantic love is all-consuming—it’s something universal, and something powerful enough to provoke both fixation on another and contemplation of oneself. And it’s the inspiration for 20-year-old Gardena singer-songwriter Aolani—born Kalyn Aolani Oshiro-Wachi—on her upcoming self-titled EP. Aolani is a fearlessly intimate project, the result of two years post-music-school spent defining and refining her own individual kind of R&B. From collaborating with Bane’s World’s Michael Seyer to upcoming shows with Inner Wave and Katzù Oso, she’s a natural fit among the like-minded teenaged and 20-something indie musicians sprouting from L.A.’s ever-fertile suburbs. Now with her EP debut due out October 12, a new live band ready to perform, and her first-ever out-of-town shows on the calendar, Aolani’s more assured than ever in her ambitions. On a cloudless South Bay afternoon, she details her forthcoming release, indulges in childhood pop memories, and ponders how femininity and culture have shaped her complete creative identity.

It seems like the visuals are as important to you as the music. The artwork you’ve released to promote your EP is very feminine.

I feel like my whole album is very personal, and in those visuals, I’m wearing lingerie, for instance. I wanted it to feel very intimate and open and soft and feminine. I feel like that matches my music. Another random thing about those visuals that no one would probably notice is that I’m alone in them. A lot of my music is centered on being lonely and using love to fill that. And because I’m human, I’m insecure. I feel like on Instagram I probably always seem like super confident—I’m always posting selfies and pics with my butt out, like literally walking around a show with assless chaps on—but I feel insecure on a daily basis and I do struggle with relationships. I have a tendency to focus all my time on love interests, and that’s something I’ve done for as long as I can remember. It connects to my album because all the songs are about love—all of them. They’re about like boys, etc., etc. I just seem to drop everything when it comes to love interests. But right now, I’ve been in a relationship for a while and [my boyfriend and I] are past that stage where we’re attached at the hip. It’s a nice feeling.

I feel like I’m at a place in my life where I feel secure within myself and I have my own things going on and I love feeling that.

Do you think you’ve curated an alter-ego as Aolani to portray a part of you that contrasts your everyday self?

Of course. I think with social media, that happens naturally. On Instagram, I’m trying to put my best foot forward, and as a woman, that has a lot to do with presenting myself a certain way and looking a certain way. I can basically use my sexuality, and I consciously choose when I do that on my Instagram. It’s not like getting howled at INTERVIEW

on the street. It’s in my control—it’s my decision. If someone DMs me something gross, I block them or rip them apart.

Sexuality is a really powerful tool for women. And outside of Instagram, I’m just really comfortable with my body. I guess people would say I dress risqué, but that’s just how I feel comfortable. I’ve always been like that. I love clothes and I love to look good! I love to walk into a place and have everyone look at me—not gonna lie.

The Aolani EP is going to be your debut.

How are you feeling?

I’m really nervous. When I dropped the lead single, ‘Medicate for You,’ I was like, ‘Oh my God, I’m scared.’ As for the whole EP, I’m afraid that people are going to enjoy the singles and think the rest sucks. I worked on it for two years now, so I’m just putting it out there and they can like it or not—I just had fun doing it. I need to get it off my computer. I need to be like, over it, so I can work on the next thing. It’s eight tracks, which is nice and meaty. I’m hoping people will be surprised when they find out it’s that long.

Michael Seyer produced ‘Medicate for You.’ Have you worked on music together before?

We’ve done old covers together before, but he produced the lead single and couldn’t think of anything to do with it himself, so he just gave it to me and was like, ‘Do good with it.’

And I was like, ‘Oh my God, I’ll try.’

The track sounds personal.

Well, yeah. Basically, I’ve been diagnosed with OCD since I was a kid, and I’ve been dealing with that my whole life. When I was a kid, it was more physical—like washing your hands all the time and things like that.

But as I got older it got in my head. I tend to obsess on certain ideas and get stuck on specific things, so I wrote the song as an apology because I know [the disorder]

makes my relationships significantly harder.

I feel like I’m always having to deal with obsession. And you have to do compulsions, so it’s something I have to do. Like, if I crack my fingers every however many minutes, things like that. Now, it affects my romantic relationships and social interactions and makes those relationships difficult.

What about the new single ‘Call Me Up’?

I wrote it when I was in a friends-withbenefits relationship so it’s about that. I also touch on how I’m not ready for a relationship in that song—at the time I wasn’t. Usually I write songs during an experience; it’s like a coping mechanism so I don’t have to burden or stress the other person [with the issue]. I can just write about it and be done. But I really love that song. I think it’s my favorite off the EP. I think anyone who’s been in a friends-with-benefits-type relationship relates to it because it’s great, but it kind of sucks. It talks about how even though the relationship could be meaningless, there’s always a connection of intimacy—it sounds easy but it never is.

Most of your music focuses on romantic relationships.

Definitely. Ever since I was a kid, I was really into poetry and I wanted to be a writer and a singer—but I really loved writing. And I was always boy crazy, since I was in elementary school. Then, once I started dating and liking boys—when I started writing music in high school and stuff—it was always centered around love.

I think that’s a good thing because I’m not writing love songs ... they’re more about my own insecurities and how I move through dealing with those issues in relationships.

Did you study music in high school?

Yeah—I went to a performing arts school, but I definitely wasn’t the best student. I was in the classical voice conservatory at the Orange County School of the Arts. I

enjoyed it, but I was a horrible student.

I’ve never been good with school. I barely graduated—I didn’t get to walk, but I did graduate! All my teachers hated me and I never had my music memorized.

Did you want to go to music school?

I mean, I did. Well, my mom wanted me to. I was doing traditional Hawaiian music from elementary school and throughout high school I did it too, and it was this thing called Hawaiian falsetto, where you sing really high and it sounds kind of operatic with lot of vibrato. So she was like, ‘You should try out for the opera conservatory,’ and I was like, ‘OK.’ And I got in, so I was like, ‘Great, I guess I’ll go!’ But it was great.

Music school definitely got me started in producing and I met a lot of friends who produced as well. If I didn’t go to OCSA I don’t think I’d be making music. Once I started recording I had just gotten out of high school, and because I had gone to high school in Orange County, I didn’t have any friends in Gardena. But I met all of these people in the area who I didn’t even know were there. They were all musicians and I got introduced to writing and the show scene and just being surrounded by show culture.

I had never really gone out while I was in high school. So I started going to shows—I started going out. I kinda went wild for a minute. I was just having all these new experiences like meeting new people and talking to guys, and all of that inspired me.

I think I started having a social life! Then other musicians really inspired me, like Clairo. ‘Get With U,’ specifically, because I really love that song. And Raveena, I’m obsessed with her. She’s my idol. I’ve shown her to so many people. Joyce Wrice too.

I’ve loved her since high school. 90s and 2000s R&B is another big influence for me because my mom showed me all that music when [my sister and I] were young.

13

We would always listen to TLC, Ashanti, Mariah Carey. That’s what made me want to be a singer since I was a kid. At one point my grandma actually sat me down and was like, ‘You’re not good enough to be a singer,’ and was like, ‘Give up.’

Oh my God—how old were you?

I was young. Like really young because I wanted to be a singer for as long as I could remember. And I used to watch MTV music videos every morning with my grandpa, and I was like, ‘That’s what I wanna be!’ And then my grandma was like, ‘You’re not good enough,’ and my heart was broken.

How did you parents react? I know your mom wanted you to go to music school.

I was probably like … seven when this happened. She was like, ‘Oh my God, do whatever you want.’ My mom just wanted us to do whatever we wanted and have jobs that we loved. So I gave up singing until like the 4 grade. I did like everything under the sun from then—ice skating, gymnastics, soccer.

And nothing compared?

Yeah! I couldn’t—I sucked! Then I went back to music, and then I started singing and eventually I got better and then my grandma started supporting me. I was in the 6 grade when I started performing Hawaiian music. I played ukulele, and my teacher heard me sing and then he started putting me in shows. So I got a lot of great opportunities through Hawaiian music, and I got to sing with big names in Hawaiian music, but it just wasn’t satisfying playing those gigs. I remember I would go and just wing it because I just didn’t care. I went th

th

through it for my parents. I told them, ‘I don’t want to make this kind of music, I wanna make R&B’ and then my dad was like really angry about it. He’s still salty.

He’ll bring it up to this day if we fight, and he’ll sprinkle it on in there. I’m just like, ‘Get over it! How are you still on that?’ But my mom has always been OK about it.

Now that I’m starting to play better shows they’re a lot more understanding, and now my dad’s like, ‘OK, keep doing music.’

As a person of color, do you feel like there’s an obligation to incorporate your cultural roots into your music still?

Honestly, not really. I don’t. I think it comes out in there without me knowing because I don’t actively put forth I’m like Japanese or Hawaiian, or Chinese or Vietnamese, and I also don’t actively talk about issues like being a woman of color and being a musician. I think part of that is just because I want to make a name of myself as an artist first and foremost. The most important thing to me is that I’m represented as a musician. I don’t know. I think it sprinkles its way in though, for sure. Just because it’s part of who I am and what I go through.

How’s that?

I think you can hear [my cultural roots] in my voice because I don’t have the typical R&B voice, and that was something I definitely struggled with. For a while, I resented my voice so much because I was like, ‘I don’t have what it takes to make the music I want.’ And I don’t know if you’re familiar with city pop—it’s a Japanese genre and it’s very jazzy music—but I feel like I have a very Japanese voice, very soft

and straight-toned, kind of. But with a lot of hard work … I just practiced for years.

When I was recording the EP I was shut away in my room just singing constantly and I got better, and I was able to work with my voice to make it fit my music. Now I love my voice.

What are you most excited about that’s coming up?

I’m excited just to go to San Francisco. I was telling Miguel [Michael Seyer] and he was like, ‘It’s just San Francisco,’ and I was like, ‘I don’t care! Why do you have to ruin this for me! I get to travel!’ I’ve never gone away for a show before. The farthest would be like … I don’t know, L.A. or Santa Ana. And of course I’m excited for Tropicalia.

How did you react when you found out you were booked for that?

I was really nervous. When I was waiting to hear back from Goldenvoice, I was superanxious for days, just waiting by my phone.

And then they asked me to play the festival and I was like, ‘What the heck!’ At the time, I had an even smaller following than I have now, and I was like, ‘What do they see in me, is this real?’ I’m pumped to have my all friends there—I feel like it’s gonna be a big party. I’m hoping I won’t be too nervous.

My nerves have been good lately.

Between your EP coming out, your release party at The Echo, your show in SF and Tropicalia, you have a lot going on right now—how are you preparing?

Just practicing with my band, really. This is my first time with a live band. I’m really excited to make the switch and it sounds so great, because before it was just me and

my boyfriend’s brother DJ’ing for me, but I thought transitioning to a live band would up the whole performance. It’s easier to be into it when I have a whole group of people who are also into it. It’s coming together really well and sounds like how I imaged it in my head. They’re all jazz guys, which really fits my music. I feel like I really need a tender touch.

I can’t imagine your band consisting of a bunch of hardcore guys.

I’ve dealt with that before! I had one drummer who used to be in a full-on heavy metal band. He went a little crazy, but now the band is perfect. I’m so excited. I’m excited because before I was releasing singles and the project really didn’t get much traction, but with this new EP I’m trying to be really smart about when I’m advertising for things and when I’m posting on Instagram. I’m trying to be smart about it—or I ask my friends who are under management, ‘When should I post?’ and stuff. I want music to be my livelihood. Unfortunately, it’s not right now. I’ve been working two jobs for like, the longest time. But I feel like my hard work is finally starting to pay off.

AOLANI WITH SOPHIE MEIERS AND BOX DREAMS ON SAT., OCT. 20, AT THE ECHO, 1822 SUNSET BLVD, LOS ANGELES, CA 90026.

6 PM / $8 PRESALE / $10 DOOR / ALL AGES. SPACELANDPRESENTS. COM. AOLANI’S SELF-TITLED EP IS OUT OCT. 12. VISIT AOLANI AT SOUNDCLOUD.COM/ KALYNAOLANI.

OCT 27 | 8PM LUCKMANARTS.ORG

323-343-6600

THE SCIENTISTS Interview by Gabriel hart ILLUSTRATION BY FELIPE FLORES Australia’s Scientists are as deliberate as murder itself. One of the first groups to inject the dark undercurrent of 60s pop into what was then becoming to be known as post-punk, founder Kim Salmon and company were like a lost soundtrack to a Hell’s Angels exploitation flick at their most calculated (“Swampland”) or a willful bad-trip at their most shambolic (“Solid Gold Hell”), but they could nail the fleeting lucidity of the comedown in their occasional poignant, broken ballad, too. (“It Must Be Nice”) There could have been so much more to this interview—we didn’t even break into Salmon’s tenure with Beasts of Bourbon or his every-itch-scratched solo career—but Salmon was frantically preparing for an impending [and first-ever!?—ed.] U.S. tour this October, so we had to stay fairly on the subject of one of Australia’s most revered and influential acts instead. Let’s dig in quick so he can get here, already…

How would you explain punk rock hitting Australia in the mid 70s? Was it as predictable as kids finding Stooges records?

Kim Salmon (vocals/guitar): There’ll always be people that have to have something more or different to what everyone else has, and with music that means the sort of kid that wants to find out about bands that no one else knows about. In other words—trying to be cool! Geography just adds more of a challenge and makes remote things even more special. Perth had a reputation back then as a cover band city but we just ignored it. There were enough subcultures so were able to avoid having to play covers.

Your band the Cheap Nasties were Perth’s first proto-punk group. Since this was before the term ‘punk,’ what kind of prepunk ingredients would inform the band?

To be honest, the Nasties were in 76 and the term was definitely around by then. I’d heard the term used about an obscure—to me— US band called the MC5 and in the NME article I read that first inspired me to go on a quest for ‘punk rock.’ The term was used in relation to the sort of bands that played CBGB. All I had was that article and guess work. The Stooges and the New York Dolls were definitely mentioned and I had to go looking for things that shared the aesthetic … which I wasn’t 100% sure of. I guess this gave me a filter which helped me steer away from roots-y stuff, country stuff, proggy stuff—although I got it terribly wrong at times. I sorta thought Steely Dan would have qualified with their smart-arsed lyricism and urbane vibe. I was a bit in the dark!

What was your first taste of American counter culture?

That’s hard because I think the things that shaped my artistic output have been varied and not necessarily counter culture. Comics and sci-fi influenced me but they’re not exclusively American. Psychedelic pop and rock definitely influenced me but that couldn’t be seen as purely American. I was interested in the British stuff as much as American. Various modern art has influenced me but neither has that been exclusively American. Round the age of 15, I became interested in jazz but I’m not sure that’s counterculture—the same for the 16

blues. I think the brand of punk rock that got me hooked was the US variety—all the CBGB’s stuff and what informed that, like the Stooges, Velvet Underground and New York Dolls. All that stuff was informed more

by British rock than American.

The Invaders—the band that would soon become the first incarnation of the Scientists—had a more power-pop sound.

Was this a conscious stylistic move or was your songwriting just getting better?

Actually the Invaders were far from powerpop. They aspired to a Stooges-cum-Dolls sound. I say ‘aspired’ as they didn’t really succeed … at anything really, except for being unpopular and a shambles.

The ‘Frantic Romantic’-era Scientists broke up right after you released the debut ‘pink’ album. Why? The band actually broke up before the pink album was recorded. We’d travelled across the country from Perth to the east coast twice on the back of singles ‘Frantic Romantic’ and ‘Last Night,’ doing well over there only to return home to a complete lack of interest both times. We broke up in disgust at the beginning of 1980. Sometime later in the year some interested people wanted us to record an LP and funded it for us.

One misconception I’d like to dispel is that the Scientists went primordial swamp rock because of the Birthday Party, which is bullshit, correct?

Well, yes—that is bullshit! The reason we changed direction is I’d wanted to go that way from the start. I thought the Invaders would be like that as well. The thing is … when [drummer] James Baker joined up and we became the Scientists, he and I went with what came naturally. He’d used up his ‘punk’ inspiration and was well into something that referenced the 60s pop thing. It had a sort of ironic and post-modern sort take on that, although I didn’t know that term at the time.

One day I heard the Cramps and thought ‘Damn!’ I went straight for the swamp! I must admit I saw the Birthday Party in late 1981 and realized that they weren’t the artsyfartsy thing that I thought they were—they were in fact doing something kind of like what I’d been wanting to do. Their sound, however—like the Moodists and the Laughing Clowns—was something I didn’t

understand or attempt. I just liked them all for what they were and we went on our merry way, which was also—I gotta say— completely different from Radio Birdman or the Saints who have also wrongly been cited as influences on us.

Did it feel sacrilegious to re-record all those early 80s Scientists songs for the Weird Love LP? To me, it may have been the only instance in history where it improved the songs and cemented the band’s character.

Maybe … we’d just signed a big deal and the label wanted our back catalog which was unavailable due to an ongoing dispute with our ex-indie label over ownership. We’d done extensive touring after [drummer] Leanne [Chock] joining the band and hadn’t had a chance to write new songs. We got Richard Mazda to produce it—he’d done Wall Of Voodoo and the Fall so he seemed a good fit. I look back and think that in the good old days before indie and punk when bands got signed and had A&R people nurturing them, getting them tours, finding producers … This is sort of what this album is like if that could have happened to us. The image and the sound are crystalized wonderfully and the playing is tight and the production puts it across with lots of hooks! What could be bad about it? Hell … if we coulda had Weird Love out at the start! Man, we woulda killed it! But that’s only what might’ve been and it’s not worth dwelling on.

How do you define Australian ‘tall-poppy syndrome?’ Did the Scientists fall victim?

I’ve ignored the ‘tall poppy syndrome’ all my life. I wasn’t particularly popular at school growing up, so it’s in my make-up not to give a shit about popularity. If anything, this has worked against me more than any tall poppy syndrome. I have a natural inclination to thinking that if something’s popular then it probably sucks … so maybe I’m part of the syndrome! [laughs] You supported the Gun Club on their Las Vegas Story tour in 84. What mindburning moments stick out?

Jeffrey was one whacked-out dude and that Kid was a hell of a nice guy with great taste in clothes. And scorching gigs from both bands! We were out to blow them off stage but it really just upped the ante. It was a fabulous tour!

There’s a movement of sorts called ‘Beach Goth’ that the Growlers have inspired in Southern California. It makes me think of your song ‘Hell Beach.’ Was there a real ‘Hell Beach’?

No—it’s just a motif and a minimalist concept with lyrics off the top of my head. It was never actually rehearsed. I played some shit and the band jumped on it. Playing it live over time would have pared it down.

Was there a concrete concept behind ‘Human Jukebox’? To me, it’s the Scientists most unhinged, non-linear song—like it may have started as an experiment. It stayed with you—you even named your first post-Scientists group after it.

What happened was that the band that signed the deal with Big Time imploded, but before long Tony and I went in to a demo studio with our friend Nick Combe—A.K.A. Arthur Lager—and basically jammed, although Tony claims he doesn’t ‘jam.’ We were going to call the album Blue Velvet as we covered that in the session in much the same deconstructed way as the Surrealists a little later, but found out that David Lynch—who we were all fans of since Eraserhead—was about to release a film with the same name. ‘Human Jukebox’ was a distorted Eddie Cochran/Suicide sort of riff I had that the band jumped on the moment they heard it. I improv-ed a vocal with a phrase Tony told me came to him in a dream—‘I am a human jukebox.’ We didn’t practice or anything. What you hear is what happened sometime early one morning in that studio under a trainline in Brixton! It was cheeky of us and Big Time didn’t want to know about it. A ‘deal breaker’ I believe they call it!

THE SCIENTISTS WITH LAVENDER FLU AND PRETTIEST EYES PLUS DJs RYAN WEINSTEIN AND MR. PHARMACIST ON TUE., OCT. 2, AT ZEBULON, 2478 FLETCHER DR., LOS ANGELES. 8 PM / $15 / 21+. AND WITH LAVENDER FLU AND THE LAMPS PLUS DJs RYAN WEINSTEIN AND MR. PHARMACIST ON WED., OCT. 3, AT ZEBULON. ZEBULON.LA. 8 PM / $15 / 21+. VISIT KIM SALMON AT KIMSALMON.BANDCAMP.COM. INTERVIEW

JURASSIC SHARK Interview by simon Weedn photography by debi del grande For a few years now, Monrovia’s Jurassic Shark have been building a dedicated following with hard work, wild shows, and a style that blends driving indie rock and classic heart-on-sleeve emo with some deceptively sophisticated psychedelic touches.

The band self-released their debut full-length album Overflow in August, and it’s a record which sees the band moving toward more complicated and dynamic rhythms and melodies, as well as a cleaner and more focused sound. But none of this growth comes at the expense of the energy, passion, and sincerity which defined their earliest recordings—which is exactly what made the band so endearing in the first place. L.A. RECORD was able to catch up with all four members of the group—Max, Will, Daniel, and John—and hear all about the new record, their early history, and their absolutely practical affection for Foster’s beer.

Daniel Fowler (guitar/vocals): We’re excited!

We’re just drinking some Foster’s right now.

My understanding is that’s Australian for beer.

Jonathan Hastings (drums): That is correct. It used to be thee beer for us, but I think we’re more Modelo people now I’d say. Our guitarist Will is quite the bartender as well—he makes a good Old Fashioned.

What drew you to the Foster’s?

Maximo Huete (bass): I think it’s because they’re cheap and they look like a good amount for the price.

J: They look like humungous oil cans.

M: And they look cool because they’re fat.

Will Cragoe (guitar): Quantity over quality.

I used to be a big fan of Miller High Life for similar reasons.

J: Those are great—the champagne of beer.

You just put out your debut full-length Overflow! Were these all new songs?

D: It took us a while to get it recorded so the songs aren’t brand new. We’ve been playing them together for a while. But they’d never been recorded or released anywhere else.

J: It was about a year or two before we had them recorded.

M: I think all the songs were written in 2017?

It was over the course of a year give or take.

Was it a conscious choice to put off recording that entire time or was it more logistical?

D: Logistical.

M: Logistical.

W: Logistical.

J: Yeah—we have a hard time getting the ball rolling on things sometimes.

D: The album is nine songs long, and if you put that in the span of a year and a half that’s a song every three months or something.

We just put a bunch of thoughts and ideas together with the songs individually. As a whole I think the pieces fall into place and it ends up working out. Will made the tracklist which was pretty epic. I think it creates that individuality.

Did you each come up with your own track lists and pick the one you liked best?

M: We did them all individually and then we decided that Will’s was the best one.

D: And I don’t think we even listened to it. I think we just saw it and knew.

That’s a thing that I think sometimes gets overlooked when people are making albums. It’s really cool that you put that much effort into yours. I know when it was originally released, Smashing Pumpkins’ Mellon Collie And The Infinite Sadness had different track listings between the CDs and the vinyl.

D: Crazy—I did not know that. We were just talking about covering a Smashing Pumpkins song last night. ‘Today,’ right? ‘Today’ is the name of the song.

J: I don’t know if we were super serious about it, but we had to play it for a second.

That’s one of my favorite songs of theirs.

I think it’s one of the most well produced tracks of the 90s. Do you work a lot of covers into your sets?

D: We did a DEVO cover set two years ago.

It was pretty amazing. We covered their first album.

In its entirety?

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D: No, it was minus two songs. It was minus ‘Satisfaction,’ terribly, and another one called ‘Mongoloid.’ Even though both are epic, we just thought that we couldn’t do it—we couldn’t touch them. It’s not super easy covering DEVO. M: What’s funny is that we covered DEVO before we began writing our album and it really helped us. It made us better musicians.

D: They’re a really punctual band—they’re so solid.

J: Learning other band’s songs totally made me think about my own drumming differently.

DEVO are one of my favorite bands and they’re so underrated. When you mention their name most people say, ‘Oh yeah, “Whip It” right?’ But they did so much more.

J: True! We did not play ‘Whip It’ and I think there were some disappointed people in the crowd.

Their first album is so good though!

D: Yeah, and the B-sides before it are all epic.

They’re just a great band. I think it really helped with our punctuality. Our music before didn’t have any breaks—or perhaps it did, but this music we’re recording now is a lot more precise. I definitely thank DEVO for that.

Are there other bands you’d entertain covering for an entire set?

M: We’ve thought about doing Radiohead before?

D: No, we can’t do Radiohead.

J: I think In Rainbows would be one of the coolest albums to cover.

D: It’d be so hard.

J: I think we’re up for it.

D: I once had an idea that for every era of music we could choose a song, cover it, and then compile it into a time piece album. So from start to finish it’s like early era to postmodern music.

J: I think a one-hit-wonders Halloween set would be awesome too. There are so many good songs from bands that you’ve never heard anything else from. Like that song ‘Your Love’ by the Outfield … that’s one of the amazing songs ever. But you don’t even know who that band is.

I think that if you really committed to doing a specific Now That’s What I Call Music cover set though, you’d get to play some good songs … but also some really bad ones.

J: I wonder how dark that rabbit hole gets.

D: Do they still make those? Do they have Now in 2018?

J: They’ve got to be pretty deep into it at this point.

D: If they support bad music, maybe we could get on one? That could be our golden ticket!

I think they’re still making Now and those Kidz Bop compilations too.

J: That could be our golden ticket! If they got kids to cover our songs.

Which song of yours would you want a group of little kids to cover though?

M: Hmmm … ‘1963.’

D: Probably ‘Vent.’

J: I don’t know—I want to hear those little kids shred. We’d have to pick a complicated one.

Definitely ‘Arrowhead’ actually! Definitely ‘Arrowhead.’

Was it your plan all along to release your new album the same week as a summer blockbuster about a prehistoric shark?

D: We didn’t even know that was happening.

W: We probably would have changed that a little if we had known.

J: I saw the movie and it wasn’t so bad.

I’m a really big fan of your band’s name.

D: I just made it up in my bed. I was also watching Jurassic Park. We’re all just big Spielberg fans.

J: And it’s just his two best movies combined into one.

D: I think initially I wanted to start a surf music project, and I thought that would be a good name for that project. Then we all liked it and it just kind of stuck. We also used to have a couple other band names as well.

M: One them was Mystery Alley because in high school we had a teacher named Mr. Reale. It was a terrible pun.

W: I thought our first show was as Radiohead?

J: Yeah, one time we were just Radiohead for the night.

D: And John used to groom a horse called …

Phar Lap I think.

J: No, I used to groom horses, but there was cool horse named Phar Lap and I thought that was a cool name. He was actually an Australian horse that won a ton of races and was super famous a long time ago.

I’m noticing an Australian trend running through this band.

J: Will went to Australia for a couple weeks!

W: It was cool! I only went to the cities and stuff, I didn’t get to go into the outback and stuff. The cities were a lot like America, but it was really beautiful and everyone was really nice. It was fun!

D: We’ve played with a lot of Australian bands and they’ve all been super nice.

There are so many amazing bands coming out of Australia right now!

D: All of the bands we’ve played with are excellent! We’ve been invited by a lot of the bands that come out here.

M: There was a band called the Bennies that invited us down there one time.

J: The Bennies are kind of big at this point.

D: They kill it.

I hear Australian crowds are wild. You should take them up on the offer.

J: They must be—they’re selling them these giant cans of beer. [laughs] You worked with Tabor Allen [Girlpool] and Devin O’Brien [Avi Buffalo] in the studio for this album, right?

D: We’ve known Tabor for a while and we’ve always looked up to him for his music and intellectual qualities.

J: He’s engineered a lot of awesome records like Slow Hollows and he’s done a lot of cool stuff. We knew he was recording bands and we knew him from when we used to play with his band Wide Streets. We thought it would be cool to record with somebody that we were cool with.

D: And he has the most amazing attitude.

J: He’s the nicest guy in the world.

Did you know Devin from before as well?

M: No, he brought him into the picture.

D: I think they were just set to collaborate.

They’re like a dream team. It was amazing— INTERVIEW

we did everything in a day and they nailed it.

J: They were down for everything the whole time and they were super helpful. We’d never been in a studio setting before, so they were really cool with everything.

Did they bring you in and let you do your thing or did they offer guidance or advice?

D: They offered a lot, actually. They caught a lot of little tiny things that we really didn’t think about but in the end just helps overall.

It’s important to have somebody from the outside helping us as a band. They definitely added their two cents and it was fucking worth it. There were a lot of times they kept the progression going just with their attitudes in general. I didn’t want to feel so overwhelmed and they helped me not feel overwhelmed. It was like having a mentor there—the nicest mentors ever. They were so balanced. It was an amazing experience for sure.

One thing I really like about Overflow is how energetic and alive it sounds. Did you record the album fully live?

D: Yeah, except for Will’s guitar part. We recorded that the very next day. We recorded the whole album in one day except for Will’s guitar. Including the vocals—we did those live too. We also made it a point to not truly destroy the recording by manipulating it technically. We did that to be sure that our shows would be better than anticipated.

J: We kept the shredding for the live shows.

D: Some of it sounds a bit minimalistic—that was what we were going for.

So you went into it making sure you weren’t doing anything you couldn’t reproduce in a live setting.

D: That’s exactly what we did.

J: We played most of the songs if not all them live before we recorded. In the studio we were just making sure everything sounds nice and clean and not too crazy.

D: We normally record all of our music live. We’ve used that same approach every time we’ve recorded music. It’s always pretty straightforward and we don’t add anything to the recordings as far as production goes.

The sound you all have developed straddles a few different styles in really interesting ways. Was there a conversation about what sound you were going for? Or this just came out when you started playing together?

D: We’ve made a lot of music with each other; we’ve made a lot of sounds. I don’t think we ever generalized our music because we knew that it was kind of infinite.

J: We were influenced by some surf rock bands back when we started I guess … like Pangea.

We saw Pangea live together before we knew who they were and we were all pretty mindblown and wanted to play music like that. But then it turned into its own thing. The Burger scene was pretty big when we first started playing music, but Pangea was really it.

M: Moses Campbell too?

J: Yeah, Moses Campbell was really good, but they were a bit more on the folky side.

D: Those first Growlers records were like the beach scene.

M: As far as what was influencing us around that time, it was kind of that new wave of stuff, but I also feel like we’re all influenced by different types of music individually. We all met to play music, but we all come from INTERVIEW

different backgrounds. So naturally we came up with music that has a lot of different styles crossing over each other. Me and Dan knew each other in high school—I always knew that he played guitar, and I knew he was really awesome. John and I met our first year of community college right out of high school.

We were both into drums and bass and we’d talk about bands like Fugazi and Lightning Bolt, and we just started jamming. Then Will and I met at a battle of the bands in high school. So when John and I got together we reached out to Will and we started jamming all the time. Then when Dan came back from Arkansas, he was the final piece.

J: Dan actually joined us at our first show without ever having practiced with us before.

And it was awesome! He just shredded the entire time over whatever we were playing.

D: Then they put out an album without me on it, and I felt like I needed to be a part of something.

M: We don’t talk about that music though. It’s not out there!

J: It’s out there for anyone to hear!

How did Dan join you on your first show without ever practicing?

M: We were almost like a jam band back then.

It was just these jam instrumentals. That was kind of Dan’s vibe, so we were like, ‘Yeah, this is gonna work! For sure!’ Then when Dan joined us, that was when we actually were like, ‘Hey! We can write some songs.’

Did any of that stuff you guys were jamming turn into Jurassic Shark material?

M: No. W: No. J: No D: No. [everyone laughs] One thing I really dig about your music is that your lyrics are especially poetic. Do they come to you before or after the music?

D: I normally just freestyle everything, then we record it, then I’ll write all of my words down, and they just so happen to make a little bit of sense. It’s also really poetic to me though because I notice things as they happen or words as I say them. So they’re about my life. Every time we gravitate towards finishing a song, we always start recording demos.

That way we don’t forget it. Usually in those demos I’m saying the lines. Doing it that way is important to me because I don’t want the lyrics to be offset from the music, so it helps to create lyrics on the spot with the rhythm of the music. The most important part for me is the syllables because I have to feel comfortable singing while playing my instrument. Our songs aren’t like folk songs where we’re just playing chords, I have to make sure that my melody is in sync with the music which is sometimes hard to do. I could probably spend hours writing lyrics for one part, but I might as well just stick with what I’ve got. It usually turns out a bit poetically. I appreciate you noticing that.

You’re all from Monrovia and I found some videos of you all playing at VLHS (R.I.P.) from a few years ago. There’s a really cool DIY scene going on in the San Gabriel Valley/Inland Empire that not a whole lot of people in L.A. proper are aware of.

D: Oh yeah—definitely influential. It’s sad that place is no longer there anymore.

I saw some awesome shows there.

D: Yeah, VLHS was the greatest.

M: I think the first show we went to at VLHS was FIDLAR, Pangea, and Meat Market and that was something that completely destroyed us and inspired us.

I remember seeing FIDLAR and Pangea on the same bill right around that time over at rhe Echo and they were both incredible.

D: Another band that was on that bill that influenced us was Summer Vacation. They were a huge influence on us.

J: They were more from that VLHS scene.

W: That whole VLHS scene I think was a pretty big influence on us. All of us went to a lot of shows there.

J: There wasn’t a lot of crossover between the VLHS scene and the L.A. scene—they were kind of separate deals.

It’s a shame that there isn’t a bit more crossover in the DIY scenes—that VLHS scene was so amazing.

D: The scenes are definitely changing right now in terms of the popularity for DIY. I feel like it’s actually declining. Everything feels a bit more commercial now and bands are being appreciated a bit more. But I could be wrong—I know there’s an infinite abyss of DIY bands out there still.

Do you think that’s because of the crossover commercial success of bands like FIDLAR? D: No—I think it’s just a lack of community and communication.

Are you seeing this decline in the Inland Empire, or do you think it’s everywhere?

D: Like John said I think there’s a lack of crossover and I feel like that crossover is important—to be very eclectic is important for communities.

J: There’s less shows at places like VLHS or the Smell. A lot of that stuff seems like it’s moved over to the Glass House or the Echo. It’s a little less DIY. D: It probably has a lot to do with us getting older too. [everyone laughs] I know what you mean. I feel like the amount of DIY spaces ebbs and flows, and a few years ago they were everywhere. With big ones like Non Plus Ultra and VLHS gone the community feels a little smaller.

J: Pehrspace is gone too. There does seem to be a little bit of a void right now.

D: I don’t think there’s any DIY spaces in Orange County at the moment.

W: They’ve got Riff Mountain.

D: Yeah, but that’s just one spot.

How do you think going to shows at those spaces shaped your band?

D: We made a lot of friends!

J: Totally! Being in that scene with all of these other bands we were coming up with … every weekend we were playing shows with all sorts of people, meeting new people, and getting to play to bigger audiences every time.

W: I think it gave us goals to work toward.

We could be like, ‘Oh! We really, really want to play the Smell!’ That was the biggest deal in the world to us when we were coming up.

When we got to do it, it was cool to see that dream come true. To outsiders it might not have meant much, but to us it was a really big deal to play the Smell or VLHS or places like that.

For folks around Los Angeles, Orange County, the San Gabriel Valley, or the Inland Empire who want to see more DIY shows, what promoters or venues do your recommend they keep an eye out for?

D: Sid The Cat seem extremely promising, and they make awesome matchbooks which I enjoy.

M: Penniback Records and Viva of course!

Minty Boi! J: Mr. Sunday! Mr. Sunday is in the OC and his shows are pretty fun.

D: There’s not much in the San Gabriel Valley per-se.

W: Like they said, it seems like there’s a bit of a shrink in the DIY scene or maybe there are things going on we don’t know about.

D: Marty from VLHS is still booking awesome shows at Characters in Pomona and a couple of other places.

On your Instagram you have a lot of interaction with your fans. Is having that direct line of communication to people who dig your music important to you?

D: It is! We ran into some fans at a Mexican restaurant and they were the nicest people!

J: It’s awesome seeing people outside of a show that are fans. It’s definitely cool getting to talk to people that are into our music.

D: We like to hear what our fans have to say about our music and art—it’s pretty great.

J: They’re usually more creative than we are.

M: I just bought a vintage typewriter and I was telling the guys that I wanted to bring it and keep it at our merch table for our album release show. That way people can just write down whatever they want. It has to do with how we want to be connected to our fans and we want to know what they’re thinking about us or music in general. That’s something I’m trying to do for the show.

You’ve been playing these songs on Overflow for a while, but is it exciting to be able to finally show them off to audiences?

D: Yeah! Finally!

J: It’s cool! We did a Jam In The Van session back in January and [we were] letting a couple of those new songs out … Playing them live and having people already kind of know the words is really exciting.

Is it scary or intimidating to be playing these new songs in front of people?

D: It’s my favorite thing!

M: It’s a lot of fun!

J: It’s new to everybody but us.

D: It’s the best! It’s a lot of fun for us because it’s a bit more technical so we have a lot more fun playing it.

J: Yeah, I have to really be careful and pay attention because some of these songs are really hard and I tend to mess up. Gotta make sure I don’t have too many Foster’s!

So people shouldn’t be bringing cases of Foster’s to your van for you before shows?

J: No! They should!

M: They should!

D: They should!

W: They should!

JURASSIC SHARK’S OVERFLOW IS AVAILABLE NOW FROM JURASSIC SHARK. VISIT JURASSIC SHARK AT JURASSICSHARKSQUAD.BANDCAMP. COM. 23

SUZANNE CIANI Interview by CHRISTINA GUBALA illustration by JAY TORRES

Suzanne Ciani is a natural innovator. Over the course of her four-decade career as a syntheszier artist, new age composer and sound designer, she has constantly challenged—even reshaped—the world around her. As an expert controller of the Buchla modular synthesizer, she explored the limits of quadraphonic recordings, tested the relationship between human and machine, and developed a zen-like patience for technical difficulties. Now with a new surge of interest in modular synthesizers—and more broadly, electronic music in contemporary culture—Ciani’s audience is finally catching up to her, and so is the long-overdue respect from an industry that for too long couldn’t understand her genius. She spoke to me from her seaside home, watching the ocean and reflecting on philosophy, mentorship, and the waves themselves—in the natural, electronic, and cultural senses, too.

The concept of waves has been a theme throughout both your identities with the piano and the synthesizer. What do waves mean to you—both the natural ones by your home in California and the ones you create with synthesizers?

I’m looking at them right now. I’m sitting here on the coast listening to them. If I tune into the sound I find it to be like the breath of the planet. It’s a very soothing consistent rhythmic … but rhythmic with a very slow energy and I consider that feminine. So it’s not a pounding energy. It’s something soothing and has a shape. So I call my compositions waves because they build to a climax and then they receded. That was actually the structure. In classical music you had the ABA forms or different types of sonata forms that were the architecture of the composition. My architecture was a wave. I also think in life in general that everything moves in this pattern … like women’s consciousness. That was at the peak of a wave in the 60s, and then that had a slow recession and now we’re back up again. Things move in waves. The energy of a wave … each thing is connected to the thing before it and the momentum moves the next thing. Even political changes! Most things are gradual in the sense that one thing produces the next thing … I don’t know how to explain it. The other thing is for me emotionally, the ocean represented a safe space. The earth was polluted, it was 24

chaotic, it was noisy, it was dirty, it was … whatever, except for some places in nature.

But the sea was this open palette of nonpolluted safe space. Now of course that’s changed too. My concern is what we’ve done to the ocean. It’s no longer a safe space.

We’ve invaded it. It’s polluted. It’s sonically polluted. We’re harming coral reefs and whales and sharks. The plastic is taking over.

My love of the sea is complicated now. And I feel a responsibility to help reclaim the ecosystem. That’s not an easy thing to do.

But it’s a thing that’s going to require a lot of partnership with a lot of people. It’s not a single heroic feat that anybody can do.

Do you use your music to inspire change or work for causes?

I’m so thrilled whenever I get the opportunity to contribute my music to a cause. I have done that—there is my piece called ‘Sargasso Sea,’ which is now being used by the Sargasso Sea group and we’re working to improve the ocean. I was just invited by a British company to design a sound for their new currency. It’s not Bitcoin but it’s a new form of currency and they’re going to use part of the value of this currency to impact ocean cleanup. So anytime I can align myself with somebody going in the direction I care about—and if I can do that in a musical way it’s much more powerful than giving my $40 a month to the Natural Resources Defense Council.

That makes me happiest of anything.

So you’re literally providing a voice for these causes. You’ve been recognized with quite a few different awards recently—like the Moog Innovation Award, the Alumni Acheivement Award from Wellesley, even the induction to the Pinball Expo Hall of Fame … Congratulations, first of all!

Were any of these experiences particularly unexpected or moving?

This is a while ago but I remember getting an award from Napster for being the most downloaded—most illegally downloaded independent artist in the UK! It made me laugh. I looked at my royalties and saw like $6 and I said, ‘I think you’ve made a mistake because I won this honor and there’s no royalties. How can I rectify this?’

And they said, ‘Well, exactly—you don’t get any money!’ And that’s why we’re here artistically. We had to go through it. But it was undermining on so many levels. There’s this confusion about what it means to be an artist. An artist is a professional. An artist makes their living as an artist! There’s this concept sometimes as artists as dilettantes or artists can’t take care of business or that they’re doing it for the love of poetic … I don’t know! You have to live! We have the same needs as any other human. We need to take care of our lives in order to function.

Now we’ve made space for not denigrating an artist for having a practical side.

That’s something that will never die—the idea that ‘selling out’ will be leveled against

you throughout your career because there’s supposed to be some sort of purity.

That time was like a tornado that swept through the industry. It’s interested to see how everything’s settled.

‘Selling out’—what is that? Selling out has nothing to do with money. You can sell out on many levels. You might make money, you might not. You might make money doing what you care about, you might not.

I don’t think there’s any rational connection to those things. Selling out is no guarantee of anything. I remember talking to an artist once and she said, ‘I had a contract with a major label and I wanted to do what I wanted to do and they wanted me to do what they wanted me to do, so I did what they wanted me to do. And I failed. If only I had failed doing what I wanted to do!’ It’s much better to do what you’re destined to do and win or fail at that. Whatever—OK, I don’t know. No more philosophy!

Your story as an artist is one of persistence in the face of rejection, health issues, difficult equipment—you’ve faced all kinds of challenges. Have you faced a shift in the respect you’re accorded over the years? Or do you still have to prove your expertise?

I don’t feel I have to prove my expertise. In many ways I’m in my own world. I’m older now and I don’t have anything to prove particularly. There were always doubters.

And there is that gender dynamic—that INTERVIEW

perception of doubt that comes naturally when a woman does something. What we’re getting at here is that do I feel I have to prove anything? No, I don’t.

You’ve talked about how your musical life as a pianist and your musical life as a Buchla synthesizer artist have provided you with different identities. So since this reignited interest in modular synthesizers … have you felt those identities reconcile?

Or do you still feel like you inhabit two different worlds?

When [I played] at Cinefamily [in 2013], I didn’t even want them to put my name up on the marquee. I said, ‘Please don’t publicize this!’ Because my fans are going to be very upset if they see my name and they come and instead of getting the Suzanne that they know, they’re getting a Suzanne that throws them for a loop. That was my original concern—that I couldn’t bridge those two fanbases. Now here I am a few years into this experiment and I find that there’s a lot more forgiveness and openness than I originally experienced. I know because when Finders Keepers released that album and one of my traditional fans saw it on Amazon, they had an apoplectic fit! They said, ‘This isn’t a Suzanne Ciani album!’ So I thought, ‘Uh oh—this is trouble.’ But you know what?

People—I think because times are changing and everybody now is aware of and open to electronic music. It’s not this alien thing.

And it’s moving quickly. It’s becoming more and more friendly every minute.

You’ve been working with artists like Kaitlin Aurelia Smith, and I see you as sort of a mentor in that relationship—is mentorship a role you ever saw yourself in?

I’ve often been in a role of mentorship. It’s a natural role. When I was growing up in this business, I didn’t have one! Or a traditional one—my mentor was a woman who was a photographer. And I related to her because she worked in a technological field— photography. She was 80 years old when I met her. I’m aware of the power that just being who you are is the mentoring. And also it opens up naturally. I have an assistant now that I’m mentoring, and it’s a natural process. It’s a natural process where she starts to evolve and grow in a certain direction. It’s a trade for her. It’s an exciting thing. But by the same token as a mentor, you have to always be ready for the flowering of that person into whatever their unique role is going to be. If you have an assistant, they’re going to grow out of that! And that’s a good thing. They learn to fly. I’m ready for that at all times.

I also think right now we’re at the crest of a wave in women’s consciousness that I haven’t felt since the 60s. It’s a very important time.

The visibility of women to other women is very powerful and very important. Just being visible is a statement and an energy boost. I recently did this concert at the Royal Albert Hall in London and it was a series of pioneering women. One of the pieces was

by Daphne Oram who was a true pioneer in technology. She had written a piece and it was premiered just last week—after 80 years! So oh my gosh—here are these women waiting because they didn’t have an outlet historically, so we think they’re not there.

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They’re written out of history often, too.

Yeah—so it’s important. We want the evolution to go on, but we also need to look at what’s already happened. Because we don’t know! So I’m excited about this time—this historic time. I think a lot of things have converged to make women aware that they need to seize this moment and take advantage of it. Use their energy to … I call is it visibility because women are so used to working in the shadows and being behind the scenes and I think there’s a self-confidence that is going to make a big difference when women see that women are in fact powerful, capable contributors to our arts and our culture.

In addition to being a meticulous artist, you’ve also been a small business owner— running your own sound studio and later your record label. How did you balance that with your artistic output?

It’s tricky. There’s always been an illusion that if you just had so much time, you could flower as an artist. The reality is always that 90% of the time goes into just maintaining the functionality of the environment.

Business is an unavoidable partner in doing anything. So it is complicated. It’s good to be able to delegate where you can.

I appreciate that. I think I grew all those muscles because I had to. That independence of spirit is something women have learned to do because we haven’t been allowed into the normal dynamics of business. For us to succeed we’ve had to find ways around. I couldn’t get a business loan because I was a woman. So here we are now in a much more powerful position because there are women in power now. We are not trying to compete in a man’s world anymore. We actually have our own infrastructure in the world. We can support each other and you know … nothing antagonistic to men. It’s just a separate satellite system.

World-making is crucial when trying to be true to your artistic self. When you’re negotiating with people who are not necessarily understanding ... and I don’t wanna say all men are misunderstanding or don’t have the capacity to understand, but I find it’s easier when you don’t have to jump over the hurdles of having to establish yourself as credible by their standards. So it makes a lot of sense—creating your own world so you have the freedom to make what you want.

And also to get access to things. There are more women conductors now. There are more women choosing what content is going to happen. That’s what we need. We need gatekeepers who let us in.

Your recent release [LIVE Quadraphonic on CyKIK] was put out in quadraphonic sound and it came with a hardware decoder. How were you able to push the technology to put out an album that came with its own hardware decoder?

I had a very critical partner with that. I’ve been performing quadraphonic in a nonnegotiable way. We did that in the 60s and 70s and now that I’m coming back it’s always in quad. There was a period historically in the 70s when quadraphonic was available.

There were quadraphonic albums and the

technology was there for LPs to be quad.

But it didn’t fly because the industry couldn’t agree on anything. Also I think there was a problem with the content. The Buchla has always been natively quadraphonic. So moving the sounds in that space happens at the point of creation. It’s not applied later, like, ‘Now we have a recording—let’s spatialize it.’ It’s generated in space. Space is as natural a parameter as any musical setting in electronic music. We’re in a time where it’s a little bit retroactive because of kids—that’s why we’re looking at analog modular systems now because they wanted to go back! That’s why they want LPs. It’s like, ‘Hey—we’re not marching forward. Let’s go back to what there was.’ So with this conjunction of looking backwards and my coming forward again in this vocabulary of spatial sound, it was natural to look at what was done already in the 70s.

And my partner on that—KamranV—took on the responsibility of doing the research and finding how to manufacture this thing.

He did all that. He chose the very comeback concert that I did after 40 years. That was the first one. And that system that I used, it’s still quite different from the one I’m using now. When I first came back, I was dealing with the [Buchla] 200E completely. But as I played the 200E, I could see it’s missing a lot of things that we had in the past. By now I have clones of certain modules that were not available that were from the past … technology is always marching on. Like it’s getting better. And it’s not always getting better! It’s getting different. It might not be better.

Like the directional changes you would make—instead of back and forth, it was moving on a loop. Or envelope changes you would make. Little details that had become part of your practice somehow became obsolete because of the designer’s idea of improvement.

Exactly! Or it just got lost. The way of using these instruments is unique to every performer. A lot of times the people who are making the machines honestly don’t have as sophisticated a vocabulary as somebody who’s job is just to use it. I use it.

And all my time spent evolving techniques for the machine … this is an old issue, this conversation between the engineer and the artist. It’s the nature of technology for everything. Our cars, our laptops … look at the new Apple! I love Apple but every once in a while people lose touch.

I don’t have a headphone jack any more!

Where are those people designing that?

Why aren’t they talking to us?

With technology constantly changing, how do you begin the conversational process?

Like you’re beginning a new piece—what is your construction process like?

My work with the Buchla now is primarily improvisational. But as with any improvisation, things start to settle into certain … You choose things that you like and they become a more set part of it. But the starting point for me was I went back to a paper that I had written in 1976 about how to play the Buchla. I had gotten a grant and I had to write a paper to satisfy the grant. It talked about all the

current techniques I had been using for live performance on the Buchla. So when I came back to doing the live performance, I read the paper! ‘Oh, yeah—look at that! Great idea!’ That was my starting point. I used the same sequences I had used in the 70s. The material was the same. The same material you’ll hear on a concert from 1975. But now it’s different. The machine is different. The time is different.

Has your touring gotten any easier with your machinery now that more attention is paid to modular synthesizers?

It’s all still very high risk. So far so good!

A new favorable thing is that the Buchla company now has an American—for a while it was based in Australia and I had no contact with them. Now there’s an American representative and I do have support now which is something new. That helps. But when you check it on the plane and the baggage handler drops it, you might not have an instrument! I’m open to that …

I don’t know how I’m gonna face it when it happens! But I know what that’s like because it happened to me already in the 70s.

Which is why I stopped playing the Buchla.

Because it broke. There’s a wonderful book about Glenn Gould—A Romance On Three Legs. It’s his search for the perfect piano, and he finds the piano and at a certain point as it’s being delivered to a concert hall, it flies off the back of the truck and is destroyed.

And he never could replace that piano. I identified so much with that vulnerability with he had. I had that. I’m surrounded by vulnerability! I live on a cliff, I’m falling into the sea, my Buchla is fragile … it’s the edge! It’s always the edge! But it makes me very very grateful for when things do work because I don’t expect it. I’m the one who’s totally thrilled when anything works.

I’ve read your interviews extensively and you had this intimate relationship with your Buchla synthesizer that was so fragile. That sounds like a very emotionally taxing relationship, like caring for an ailing family member.

I’d say that level of involvement in the relationship that I experienced was really special for the Buchla. That’s why after forty years I can go back to that relationship. It was so deep and so intimate—as if no time had passed at all. I’m happy to revisit that special relationship that I had. I have been given the opportunity to go back because of the revolution of interest now in analog modular. I never thought I’d be playing the Buchla again but here we are. There’s renewed interest but also renewed understanding— new understanding! Because when I played it forty years ago, nobody understood what it was. They didn’t know that it was even making the sound. Technology—especially amongst the public—was still very alien and not a understood phenomenon. But here I come out forty years later and I feel at home.

The world caught up to you.

Yeah! It feels very good. I never thought it would happen.

VISIT SUZANNE CIANI AT SEVWAVE. COM. INTERVIEW

OBJECT AS SUBJECT Interview by dAiana feuer ILLUSTRATION by NATALIE BENETTI Object As Subject is Paris Hurley’s way of giving herself and others permission to be loud and take up space. Their live show is a feminist art-punk ritual with bass, drums, and a choreography of movement and yelling that’s as much confrontation as it is invitation to join in the battle cry. After growing up in the relentlessly critical atmosphere of dance, then touring for years in a (gypsy) metal scene ruled by the male gaze, Hurley was finally fed up with other people determining her boundaries and making her feel uncomfortable simply because she was a woman. A dream about a baby blue Fender bass changed her life and set her on the path to create PERMISSION, Object As Subject’s debut album out now on Lost Future.

How did you end up in the Balkans and performing in a Balkan band for almost a decade?

Paris Hurley (vocals/floor tom/violin): I was in this experimental dance music theatre performance art group called Degenerate Art Ensemble, in Seattle. The president of the board of directors was in partnership with the lead singer for Kultur Shock. And even though they were an institution, I didn’t know anything about them. They had a violinist for four years that was having a baby and last minute before their tour he decided to stay back and they were in a pickle. They got in touch with me and asked me to come on a six-week tour as a sub and said ‘You have to learn our whole catalog because we might just play any song at any time in this style you’ve never played before. Can you do it in a month and come on the road with us?’ I said, ‘Yes.’ Ended up staying for eight years.

Did exposure to that music influence your songwriting for PERMISSION? Definitely. Specifically the Bulgarian Women’s Choir struck a chord with me. And I have a Catholic upbringing that I’ve been getting away from for a lot of years, so it’s the merging of those worlds. The dissonance INTERVIEW

and extreme power of those women singing together with full force definitely influenced the writing of this record.

What about your experience in that band pushed you towards making the statement of Object As Subject?

When I started in Kultur Shock I was the only woman touring with a bunch of men through a lot of parts of the world where sexism and misogyny were more dialed-up than in many other cultures. I was at a very young age thrust into that world, on stage, with something that was very established as a male-dominated entity, both the band itself and the culture around the band. The metal and rock world in Europe—it was a dude world. I was this classical violinist and I was in shock. I got angrier and angrier as time went on and then finally realized I don’t owe everything that anyone asks of me, which I had sort of internalized as a woman. I didn’t want to be one of those performers who is too cool or doesn’t engage with an audience as a fellow human, so at first I got really tied up into being whatever anyone wanted me to be. There was a lot of aggression and like grabbing my body, talking to me entirely about sex, a lot of changing something about me to take a photo, a lot of uninvited kisses. I started having to hide out after shows. I didn’t feel safe walking by myself.

I didn’t feel like I could hang out in the audience and watch another band or dance how I wanted to dance. There was this constant barrage of dude-attack energy in one shape or form on a spectrum of ‘safe’ to ‘unsafe.’ But I transformed my relationship to it by the end. Being different with my energy in those spaces shifted how people met me. In my early twenties I felt like I had to be whatever someone wanted me to be a good performer. Then I was like, ‘No, I get to have boundaries as a woman and as a performer.’ How I walked through the space after shows or how I occupied space on stage shifted how people engaged with me. I finally would get guys coming up after shows and shaking my hand instead or complimenting my violin playing. This is not to say that anything those guys were doing was my fault by any means. But I realized I had a sort of power and control over aspects of my power in the situation that I didn’t realize I had at the beginning of the journey.

It’s kinda funny. You might wish you’d known these things from the start, but without an experience like that would you still arrive at that place and strength?

Totally. I may have found a different path there but it largely shaped how I inhabit space and inhabit my body and now the art and music and dance that I wanna make.

What is it you’re trying to express through movement and dance?

I started dancing before I even started playing violin, so I was three. Tap, jazz modern, all those core kid dance subjects. In the ballet world, I was constantly ridiculed for my body—how I didn’t have the bone structure for it, I didn’t have the body type, I was too fat. So I let each piece of it fall away and by the time I finished high school I didn’t dance anymore. I took a ten-year break from it, just feeling super shut down by the whole thing. And then my violin broke during a Kultur Shock show and I had this total identity crisis, and … long story short, I found my way back to dance.

I started working with choreographers and movers and teachers that were exploring dance so vastly differently from anything I had experienced before. It was all about sensations in the body and states of being and somatic internal states, rather than external image. Working in improvisatory fashion, and getting really interested in the rigor of improvisation. It can be something that you access from any point or it can be something you really develop a vocabulary around. So that was my inroad to this body of work— being interested in these states of being, having a shared vocabulary of energetic, emotional, sensation-based scores. That merging with experiences of being a woman and what the physical body is received as when you’re performing as a woman.

Showing both the exhaustion in that and the constant onslaught of things being expected of you, things being thrown at you, things you’re navigating at all times—the distortion of the body, breaking up things that are thought to be ‘beautiful,’ trying to break that apart. With the movement there’s a play between ideas of what is sexy, [and] trashing those. Something that happened in Kultur Shock for a while was that in order not to be ‘received’ a certain way, I shut down every aspect of myself that had any sexual energy.

Like if I tried to be a non-sexual being then maybe the music would get through. So the movement is about freeing myself from that harmful shutdown.

With all that, I get why your music is loud and ritualistic. Some people say men and women are never going to be equal if we keep separating ourselves and our experience, but at the same time,

there’s clearly still a big difference with a woman’s experience and one has to yell and scream about it, as you are.

Yeah! And I am not one of ‘those feminists’ or ‘those lesbians’ that hates men. That is not true for me. And yet I really value spaces that are for women—where you get to hear the voices of women and feel their power and see women coming together supporting each other, rather than this destructive myth that we’re in competition with each other. Being loud—that’s how I want to be. It’s not about ‘yelling at’ but it’s more like, ‘I want to yell.

I want to be loud. I want to take up space.

I want to give other women an opportunity to do the same.’ There’s something to that experience of giving yourself permission to be that loud and take up that much space that isn’t even necessarily about separating by gender or being binary—more just giving space for people who don’t feel they have the permission to do those things and add their voices into the mix.

Permission—that is a big concept.

Some people have more access to it than others and privilege certainly comes into place. Something straight white cis men have is the ability to give themselves permission to do things. That has been culturally supported and crafted. A lot of other folks feel unsafe in giving themselves permission or look to others for permission and are limited by other people or other structures. I know it’s a privileged thing also for a white woman to say she doesn’t feel like she’s allowed to take up space because for the most part I am fairly more safe to do that than some other women—but there’s also space where I’m not safe to do it. And there are situations … even dealing with sound engineers. 90 percent of them are men. I can’t tell you how many I’ve worked with who have zero respect for me, think I don’t know what I’m doing, fight with me on anything because they can’t handle a woman telling them something they want … I’m going off track but that is an area in and of itself where I had to give myself permission to own my knowledge and experience and know when I don’t and be willing to ask a question.

Giving myself the permission rather than waiting for some dude to give it to me.

Drums and bass—how did you decide on that sound for this project?

Part of it is that I just decided I didn’t want to be in a guitar band anymore. Also, violin operates on this high frequency all the time and I was craving the opposite of that. And ALSO I had a dream about a bass. It was

a Fender Musicmaster shortstack in baby blue. The next day I went to a Kultur Shock rehearsal and that bass was hanging on the wall and it had never been there before.

Someone had borrowed it from our bass player and just gave it back to him. I was like, ‘That’s fucking wild—I just had a dream about it.’ And he was like, ‘I think it’s supposed to be yours,’ and he took it off the wall and gave it to me. I played music my whole life and it always felt like work.

Work I was happy to do but it had never felt playful for me. So with this bass from my dream I started playing in my apartment. I had this tiny amp six inches across in any direction. I would hunch over on the floor and make these quiet sounds and before I knew it four hours had passed and I was lost in this world of songs that were pouring out. I wrote all the songs for Weaponry on it and then my bassist Gina Young helped me flush them out into actual dynamic bass parts that weren’t just a single riff. Then I started hitting a drum … Wanting to be loud is how I came to this point of drumbass-voice.

So as much as there is a serious focus and intensity to your project, fun is also an important part. Let’s talk about how fun it is to scream and be loud.

It’s my dream! I built my dream and it’s the greatest, most fulfilling and exciting thing that I’ve done to date. There are so many wonderful people I’m meeting through this work who are supporting and contributing and giving themselves to this work and have become my dearest friends. Making music and art with some of my closest friends is such a joy. We laugh all the time in rehearsal. Even within this permission package for myself is letting myself be seen experiencing joy—like to not get caught up in the idea that to be a strong woman you have to be in serious fighting mode all the time. I’m actually a really silly person and I get to access that a lot in this work even if it takes the form of being loud and intense.

OBJECT AS SUBJECT WITH FOXX BODIES, LANDO CHILL AND SUZIE TRUE ON TUE., SEPT. 25, AT THE SATELLITE, 1717 SILVER LAKE BLVD., SILVER LAKE. 9 PM / $8 / 21+.

AND ON MON., OCT. 15, AT THE SATELLITE. THESATELLITELA.COM. OBJECT AS SUBJECT’S PERMISSION IS OUT NOW ON LOST FUTURE. VISIT OBJECT AS SUBJECT AT OBJECTASUBJECT.COM. 29

JUPITER BLACK Interview by TOLLIVER photography by dana washington

Sometimes a transplant becomes the main artery, the aorta giving blood to the plasma-deficient masses. Jupiter Black moved may have moved here from the Bay, but he gives life to a wide swath of L.A.’s underground eastside queer scene. A rapper whose sound is equal parts malevolent and melodic, he lives in DIY spaces drinking free PBR and seducing your partner. His debut The Black Diet is brash as it is beautiful, a paean to the power of pussy.

Standout track ‘A Knew Village’ is an elastic funk-soul vamp, all close harmonies and heavy swing—produced by Onelle Woods, it’s thrilling and dark, but more beauty than bark. We talked about the Bay, beats and the pitfalls of self-pity. [Full disclosure: We’ve played many shows together, and have tag-teamed a few tracks. I know this man like the back of my hand.]

Where’d you get your musical sensibilities?

You harmonize better than anyone.

When I was younger my dad trained me.

He had me doing duets with him for talent shows for money and shit. He really just drilled all that musicality in me. And then there’s church. And going to a music or arts high school kind of helped me.

Do you worry people won’t think you’re a salt-of-the-earth musician because you’re trained? Like, ‘Oh, of course he’s good.’

I don’t even think people can pick up that I’m trained when I do what I do. My goal is to go against all that training, just being the rebellious kind of person I am. And hearing how pretty everybody’s voices were in high school I was just like, ‘I don’t want to fucking sound like that. I actually want to sound like this. And this can feel beautiful, too. Because it’s way more real.’

Do you think there are intangibles musical training can’t teach?

Definitely. Music is also interpretive of spirit and feeling. Sometimes people who are trained can get hella caught up in that, as opposed to someone who can just make you feel something. I value that a little more.

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When you got to L.A., who was the first person you heard where you were like, ‘Oh this is home base’?

Uhuru [The Uhuruverse is a dynamic performance artist and solo musician, and they’re also lead guitarist for the fast-rising FU Pay US] and Colin [‘Onelle’ Woods, producer for Jupiter, Uhuru, and Parliament Funkadelic].

L.A. has these established scenes. These Stones Throw kind of people, the beat scene kind of people, Beat Cinema—do you fit in with those scenes, or do you feel like more of a misfit?

I don’t think I fit in anywhere to be honest.

That’s probably what I can appreciate about myself the most is that I know I don’t fit in with it and I have no choice but to be OK with it. So these beat scene things … I feel like I fit in as a consumer of it, or a listener of it. I can be in those moments and listen to it. But as far as becoming one with those scenes, probably not.

Have you ever collaborated with the people in the beat scene?

I don’t even know who those people are. [laughs] Who are they?

Do you find yourself being more creative in certain areas of L.A. than in others?

I think it varies. When I first started making music out here it was definitely North Hollywood cause that was all I knew. And that kind of just went into Echo Park ‘cause I was hanging out with hipsters and shit. And then that moved into downtown because I just got into the super underground headass scene. Which fuels my fire a bit more than the hipster scene personally. But I do like moving around. I can’t just be stuck in one kind of scene because then I get bored. You see the same people, you hear the same kind of music.

Is that what informed the The Black Diet?

That mix of different scenes in LA. I think so, yeah. The different influences from what I picked up out here and back home, too. Because the The Black Diet was one of my first actual projects that I put energy into, I feel like it’s just different components of me and my experiences put into one.

How do you make those scenes work for you? Get out after a certain time or …?

How do you turn them into fuel?

I’ll find another scene, and I’ll live through that. Eventually I’ll feel overdone in that scene—seeing the same people, doing the same things. And then I transition into something different. And that doesn’t mean that those places can’t be revisited.

I’ve been seeing a lot of people post things lately like ‘I may be Black, I may be queer, I may not have a lot of money, but I don’t want to be categorized as a poor artist who needs help constantly.’ But I know that I’m a poor artist who needs help, and I struggle with those two identities.

Where do you fall on that spectrum?

I think in the middle. I definitely know I’m fucking broke, but that doesn’t define me. I don’t operate as someone who lets being broke define me. It just is what it is.

And I got a feeling it’s fucking temporary. [laughs] And then just not getting stressed about those kinds of things. Because a lot of times when you do put so much energy into being a struggling artist, then you start stressing out and you start paying attention to the shit you don’t have. When in reality at whatever moment, at whatever time, we have all of it.

What do you mean by ‘all of it’?

In that moment, even if it doesn’t feel like we have all of what we need, we really do. We just want more. It’s just programming, like feeling like we need certain things. I don’t know. That’s a whole other conversation.

Does that programming slow you down?

Definitely I think it can. When I was homeless and I was running away from that programming and just out here doing my music, there was a freedom that came with that. Of course as an adult you do have to work, and that shit does take away from the creative energy—depending on the way you balance it. Sometimes I feel slowed down by that shit because of things like being tired and shit. But … just keeping the balance out here, just tryna stay balanced. [laughs] I pictured you Milly Rocking as you said that. How you do block out that kind INERVIEW

of programming? What’s your mental process?

It’s about the balance and harnessing that energy of not wanting to work a 9 to 5—harnessing that as creative energy.

And being social makes me feel grounded in my craft. That’s part of being an artist: interacting with other artists. That helps create that balance, so I don’t feel like a slave to the system.

Back to The Black Diet—when you go into the studio do you go in with a rough outline? Or are you more of an improvisational person? You know our friend Eddington Again, who was on the cover— —yassss— —improvises a lot For The Black Diet, that was the case. Usually I like to have my shit written, but for The Black Diet I did just go in there and whatever came out, came out. I would rework around that. Sometimes I would just go into the booth and hum out melodies or different rhythmic patterns and shit and then listen back. Then I wrote to that. But my creative process varies based on how I feel. For The Black Diet I was using that as an outlet. Because there’s so many times you’re creating with other people and your artistry sort of stagnates … I don’t know.

There are different elements when two artists are collaborating than when you’re just having that moment to yourself. So I was trying to create the space for that, and I think I did.

What’s one of the grimier behaviors you’ve seen from a promoter in L.A.?

One grimy thing you can do to an artist is not pay them to perform. Second is to tell them you’re going to pay them and not do it. I think that’s the grimiest thing that’s happened to me. In L.A. everybody’s so heady. There are a lot of egotistical people, so you see a lot of shitty things coming from promoters. I don’t really deal with that kind of thing. I just want my money. So when I don’t get it, I think that’s hella shady. [laughs] Especially if it’s another artist.

Which is how that usually happens.

Right. A lot of the time it’s one broke artist contributing to making another artist broke.

What’s the worst venue you’ve played in L.A.?

I don’t know, they’re all bad. [laughs] I would have to say … this is not the worst venue but it’s the one that tired me out the most … Los Globos. I was just there every fucking weekend.

I agree with you.

When I first moved out here I went to Los Globos for some show and I was just like, ‘Oh my God, this is so tight—this is fuckin L.A.’ Then five months later I’m doing like two shows a week at Los Globos and I’m over it. So I’m played out as far as that goes.

What’s the most overrated spot in L.A.?

Los Globos. [laughs] Because there’s so many bands that are throwing so many shows, it’s just every fucking venue is kind of played out. Because we’ve all been to these venues so many times and it just

circulates. And we’re just hoping to get out of that purgatory.

So what do you do? Build your own spot?

I’ve noticed hella punk bands and shit make their own tours and shit. Just to keep shit exciting and whatever the fuck. So I’ve thought about that, but then it goes back to being a broke artist and not having the means or resources like a car or things like that. So until I find my way out of this bitch, I’m in this bitch.

Would you want to stay in America? If you had the choice, moneywise, and didn’t have to be in L.A. meeting this or that person, would you stay?

I don’t know if I would stay in L.A.—I feel like I would go back to the Bay because it’s just more grounded. And then anytime I go home I know I’m in a grounded-ass space and can spend time with family and shit.

But then who knows? I’m wild as fuck and probably wouldn’t want to be up out of here. Just to sew my oats.

What’s the strongest influence on you right now?

The moon inspires me. Life, this existence, that inspires me. Seeing other people exist.

When this random person goes home, what is their existence? Those kind of thoughts inspire me. My friends that do shit inspire me to keep doing shit. And yeah … wig.

What do you think your role is in the world? What do you feel called to say or do?

To learn and take it in and put my own interpretation on it and share it. In music I take my experiences with mental health, which can be seen as political, and I try to incorporate that into my music for some sort of healing process to take place. [It’s] just to let people know that they’re not alone.

I feel like especially in Black communities, mental health is not a discussion. I try to encompass that in my music.

What comes most naturally to you?

Lately what’s been coming naturally is figuring out who I am and trying to be that at all times. I’m trying to just naturally be me. A lot of people have a hard time doing that cause of how we were taught to be. Especially being Black—it’s frowned upon if you’re different or weird or not Black enough. So I’m focused on trying to be me. And creating comes naturally.

Do you think your existence is political?

Yeah, definitely. I have a song called ‘The Man,’ which is blatantly talking about how they had a plan to oppress our people, but it’s falling flat and now they’re running with their heads cut off and what are they gonna do now that it was ineffective. I have my moments, but that’s just not all of me.

What have you taken from L.A. musically that you think is instantly recognizable?

I feel like I really would be taking the Bay with me. I’ve taken the spirits that coexist with me. But as far as performing and everything else, it all ties back to home.

Do you have a long-term plan for your music?

I used to do that shit. I started taking my music seriously at like, 20. I was like ‘If I’m not where I want to be in three years, then I’m jumping off a fucking bridge.’ Probably

not that extreme … until later on down the line when it did become that. But you can’t really put a time limit on shit. Everybody’s journey is different, everybody’s journey is revealing. Instead of putting a time limit on it I’m just like, ‘Well, within this time I’ve learned this.’ And if people would have heard of me back then, it wouldn’t have worked. Because I wasn’t who I am now.

The time is good. I’m OK with the time.

Why did you highlight what you learned, as opposed to different markers of success—like streams or money or shows?

Probably because I haven’t acquired any monetary things. I’ve only acquired knowledge up until this point. I feel like I’ll be on a constant journey of learning, I think that’s the whole point. But especially because I haven’t acquired any monetary things. [laughs] When did you get to this place where you felt like you couldn’t continue living without making music? Or without being where you want to be in life?

I think I got there when I was knee deep in homelessness. Like … ‘I don’t fit into this 9 to 5, I don’t fit into normal ways of being able to survive.’ It’s not still that way. I’m at peace with my journey at this point and I know everything has divine timing. There’s more patience that comes with experiences.

If I would’ve gotten where I wanted to get at 22, I wouldn’t be able to handle anything.

My values have changed, my expectations have changed. I don’t want the same things I wanted when I was younger. I’m more lenient on myself.

Do you ever hear music by younger people in the queer scene, like 19 and 20 year olds and just think … ‘this is shitty’?

Yeah—I think a lot of music is shitty. [laughs] I think there’s so much music it can’t all be good. So some of it is gonna be fucking shitty. And I just don’t listen to it.

I feel like I’ve already written off so much music. I’ll listen to certain trap songs, but generally speaking there are so many trap songs that I can’t even listen to it to separate the good from the bad. A lot of trap music is redundant, but I have some songs I’ll slap.

I know we want to support our scene, but sometimes you gotta…

You gotta step out! There are so many good and talented artists in our scene. But it’s good to seek inspiration or whatever kind of vibe outside of that.

Do you wish you got booked for Echo Park Rising?

No. Fuck Echo Park Rising. [laughs] Fuck Echo Park Rising. It’s not for me, apparently.

That’s just what it is.

Then what is for you?

I actually would like to do intimate shows in front of people I don’t know. When I do intimate shows it takes me to this point of vulnerability that I don’t normally reach.

That’s scary, but I can appreciate that, though. Because it feels lit to be scared sometimes.

VISIT JUPITER BLACK AT INSTAGRAM.COM/JUPITERBLACK_ 35

CULTURE ABUSE Interview by BENNETT KOGON ILLUSTRATION BY NATHAN MORSE Bay Area band Culture Abuse released their sophomore full-length Bay Dream this June on Los Angeles-based Epitaph Records. It’s more rhythmic and upbeat and deliberately strays from the band’s hardcore roots, but it’s somehow more punk than ever before. That’s thanks to writer and frontman David Kelling’s commitment and belief that the band can write how and whatever they choose to and the result will always be genuine. I spoke with Kelling about California, life on the road, and living with cerebral palsy in 2018.

I’ve always identified Culture Abuse as being a very California band. Which is a great thing. Does it feel that way to you?

David Kelling (vocals): It’s not a conscious thing. It’s just like … I write a song and we play it. And people are like ‘Oh, it sounds so California-y.’ And we’re like ‘Oh, okay.’ As long as they like it. Or even if they don’t like it. It is what it is. We’re very authentic, so I guess it would come out that way. I’m very proud of being from here. Growing up going to punk shows on the West Coast compared to going to punk shows on the East Coast.

Our scene was like Trash Talk, Sabertooth Zombie, Ceremony, Life Long Tragedy. All that stuff that now you’re like, ‘That’s fuckin’ California.’ Now it’s a whole new wave, I guess.

You’re definitely in that category. It seems that with the internet, musical geography can be kind of nondescript. You can be from anywhere in the world and that doesn’t necessarily matter.

When I lived in the Bay Area, it was like, ‘I’m gonna create using as much shit as I have [physically] around me and with as many like-minded people around me as possible.’ If we lived in Omaha, we’d be doing as much as we could with the people there. It’s really cool and rare to find things that you can really be proud of. Being from California—a beautiful place—we know we are very lucky and I guess that is good. But it’s also hard to go on tour and everyone’s paying half of what we have for ten times more than what we have.

So then you’re kind of like, ‘Fuck this.’

Especially in a place like San Francisco.

Oh my God, yeah. Now if I talk to someone and they’re like, ‘I’m moving to San Francisco!’ all that comes to mind is like, ‘Oh, you’re a techie fuck.’ I mean—two of the dudes in the band are still living in San Francisco. One of them is living in a green room at a venue, and the other one’s living in a van and he just drives out to the beach and sleeps in the van.

Two other dudes live in Oakland. Even the room that our guitar player is living in, he took a corner of someone’s living room and built a little wall to make a triangle—and that’s his bedroom. Our drummer has his shit together super hard, so he is doing fine.

I moved down to L.A. because at the time I just bounced around on couches in between tours, and a room opened up down here.

There were no other options anywhere else at the time. So I just moved down here.

36

Some people know what touring is like and others do not—as much of a fantasy it is to play shows all around the world, I know it can also suck. What are things you do to deal with life on the road? Loneliness and stuff like that?

It’s crazy. You get to see the world by looking out a window. Every day is spent watching the world fucking pass you at 75 miles an hour. People don’t realize what an emotional and physical toll it takes on you. It actually fucks with your head and you get like PTSD from it. It makes you feel like you’re not a real functioning member of society. The thing is … especially as I get older, I realize sleep is key. If I’m not getting enough sleep, that’s when everything makes me want to cry and break down and flop on the ground and have a temper tantrum. Also eating—if you eat like shit all day every day, you feel like shit. So most of the time we feel like shit. But at least we’re trying to get a little bit more rest. That’s the only thing that I can confidently say that I’ve been trying to do. Like, ‘OK, fuck—we have to be on the road by 6 AM, so I’ve got to get some rest somehow.’ And drink water.

It’s humanizing to hear that. It’s easy to fantasize about the rockstar lifestyle without actually thinking of people when they’re off stage.

Also—at the same time—no one is forcing us to go on tour. Or at least no one was because now we have a booking agent, manager, etc. Every time I see a band and they’re like, ‘Man, touring is so hard, it’s so rough.’ I’m like, ‘Then just go home.’ No one is forcing you. I hate when you see a band and they try to act like that. If you come here, you better be having fun. If not, then you don’t need to be here. So yeah—we’re playing shows because we want to be playing shows and getting this music out there and into the world. We’re doing everything that we can to make this possible. If it gets too painful or uncomfortable, then we’re not gonna do it.

Which might be sooner than later, but for now, it’s fine. And the bands we get to go out with, I love.

Let’s talk about your new record. It’s different from the last one. Which is awesome because you wrote what you wanted to write. What changed between the release of the last record and this one?

If anything, it’s just being able to dive further into the direction that I wanted to. Not saying that it’s fully realized or fully captured. When

we were making this record, I was freaking out all the time, literally on the phone with Brett [Gurewitz] from Epitaph wanting to scrap the record. And I would think about making Peach and how easy it was. But then I go back and listen to it and remember that was not the case. I’m a fucking psycho with my music, and Brett came in the studio and helped us mix. I was there every single day.

Every time anyone touched that record, I was there—fucking going crazy with it. It’s weird because a lot of shit in our lives continued and we had to deal with a lot of rough shit. I don’t think in life there’s ever a time where it’s not like that. Life’s not all sugar.

People say that the record is more positive.

I don’t know. It’s weird because I was so angry at the outside world and wrote a couple songs to express those feelings. And everyone was like, ‘It’s so positive!’ We just got out of the studio today and recorded a dub/reggae mixtape with Lil Ugly Mane that sounds nothing like anything we’ve ever done, so everyone’s going to continue to be like, ‘Wait, what?’ I kind of wanted to write like … a bedroom record. Something that you could just put on with some headphones and have some alone time, if that makes sense.

Especially with the vocals in my head, I was trying to push to the producer and engineer like, ‘I want a Paul Simon!’ Listen to ‘Me and Julio Down by the Schoolyard’ and it’s just like … the vocals are a smooth wave rushing over all the music. I wasn’t thinking about the live element of it or how it was different or anything. I was just like, ‘No, I want these songs to be smooth.’

It feels like no matter what, Culture Abuse will always be a punk band. How does punk and hardcore—or anything related—transcend the music that you’re actually playing?

I think that’s just who we are. It’s the same as saying your band’s very California. If we’re writing a song that’s genuine, real, and coming from us … if I write a song that’s my song to sing, then it’s going to be what I am, who I am, and where I am. So I am a punk rocker and every song that I have will be punk rock song. That’s who I am, and who’s gonna tell me that it’s not?

People have certain expectations of what they get out of a concert experience. Not a lot of people know you are a frontman with cerebral palsy—not a lot of people even know what cerebral palsy is. How

can people better sympathize with your experience as a band member and as a human being?

It sucks to be on tour having cerebral palsy, but it also sucks going through life having cerebral palsy. It doesn’t matter what I do about it, too—unless we tear down all skyscrapers, all stairs, and make the whole world flat. Also no cracks in the sidewalks. But it’s always going to be horrible unless I’m sitting and playing guitar or eating food. We’d be on tour and I’d see bands posting like, ‘This venue doesn’t have multi-gendered bathrooms!’ We were following this band on tour, and they would complain about that all the time and it’s like … these venues all have stairs that I can barely even walk up. I can barely even get to the show. We’d get to the venue and there’s like two flights of stairs to get to the green room, or it’s in the basement. You grow up watching all of those punk bands’ lead singers jump into the crowd and go wild. If people bump into me, I’ll fall over. Sometimes when I’ve walked out onstage, people have said that I seem drunk. It’s literally every second of every day. I would hope that someone—regardless of their gender or race or anything—has a spot that they feel comfortable in. But for me, walking around the house is even hard. I can be stiff and sore and sometimes it’s even hard to get up.

Many of us take our bodies for granted.

It’s so important to be inclusive, but you’re right there are a lot of limitations in this world that often aren’t addressed. You’re doing it though—you want to make music and tour, and you’re not letting anything stop you.

That’s the cool thing about music. You really don’t need anything to make music. No one can ever tell you what or what is not music.

To have that—to know that I have an outlet or something that makes me feel like I have a purpose—it’s the one thing that I feel like I can do. I might not be able to ride a bicycle or even run for my life, but I can write a song. We’re just more about trying to have fun because … do you really want to get into it? Because we can get into it, but otherwise let’s just play music and have fun. I want to try to have as much fun as we can.

CULTURE ABUSE’S BAY DREAM IS OUT NOW ON EPITAPH. VISIT CULTURE ABUSE AT CULTUREABUSEUNCENSORED.COM. INTERVIEW

joey dosik Interview by daiana feuer photography by maximilian ho How can anyone resist Joey Dosik? He’s good at sports, plays piano, and his mom seems very sweet. Dosik just released his first fulllength album Inside Voice, a collection of soulful songs that are full of atmosphere and gooey emotions. It follows his Game Winner EP, which translated the world of basketball into love songs. Raised in Los Angeles and at one point a dedicated jazz saxophonist, Dosik shifted his focus to songwriting on piano and began releasing solo material in 2012. He still pulls out his sax to play with his friends in Vulfpeck, and worked on the songs for Inside Voice with co-producer/co-writer Mocky. Looking at Carole King or Harry Nilsson, Dosik strived to create songs that are timeless and feel good … and a little bit sensual. Are you charmed yet?

You went to college to place saxophone and play jazz. How did you get into soul?

This is the sound of my childhood. I grew up playing piano and studying classical piano as well as jazz saxophone. But my favorite thing to do is play songs on the piano. Play Beatles or Motown or Elton John or K-Ci & JoJo, play Jodeci—you know what I mean?

Simultaneously I fell in love with jazz in Los Angeles by going down to Leimert Park and getting to participate in the jazz scene when I was growing up. It inspired me. I went full-on head-first into this jazz saxophone mission, trying to investigate what the next stage could be after John Coltrane, Eric Dolphy, Ornette Coleman. After a long time I got burnt out and remembered that my favorite thing used to be to sing songs and play piano. So I took the energy I had put into saxophone and put it into learning how to write a great song and learning how to sing for real. This album is my first full-length and it’s the thing I’ve been trying to make my whole life. That’s how I arrived back at the thing I loved the most.

Did you come up with any answers for the saxophone in your investigation?

For a second I got dark on it. I was like, ‘OK, saxophone is not my thing anymore. I’m not going to play it.’ Then my friends in Vulfpeck had me come by the studio and asked me to bring my saxophone. I ended up playing it on a track that became big for them called ‘Outro.’ In my sort of evolution with that band I’ve managed to heal my relationship with the saxophone. I don’t care that I’ll never be as good as Coltrane. It’s kind of a punk outlet for me. I don’t practice it. I just open the case, take it out, and let it be this fun outlet.

That’s how I am with it now. But for this tour I’m doing with my record I’ve decided to take it out of the case and play it. And it’s fun.

People just love the saxophone. I have to give the people what they want! And that’s what they want, in addition to everything else. I’m excited it’s back in my life.

You never know—you might stumble upon an epiphany because you’re not trying so hard to find one.

Totally. I don’t have the time to practice it.

And jazz is such a demanding art form. If you don’t keep up your chops you’re not going to be able to do it. I spent a long time feeling sad that I wouldn’t be able to do it, and I didn’t like the way I sounded when I played. But now I 38

just don’t care. And you’re right—not caring and just doing it for the love and joy that it brings other people has been therapeutic and healing and a happy accident.

That’s the thing with being a performer.

You’re not just doing it for yourself. You’re doing it to give something to other people.

That’s the way I view my shows and that’s how I view my album too. At my shows, I feel like the crowd is as much a part of making the show as me. I view it as a co-creation. Now that the album is off my hard drive and in people’s stereos, they can do with the songs as they please. They can listen on shuffle. They can think about someone close to them.

My boyfriend’s mom just got diagnosed with terminal cancer. And I watched the ‘Take Mine’ video the very next day [which shows a loving relationship between mother and son] and I bawled so hard. I guess I really needed to cry, because I hadn’t yet, and it opened me up.

Thanks for sharing that with me. I’m sorry to hear that news. It’s the song that means the most to me on the record. I was happy with the video but just hearing that it gave you this moment, that’s so special—you just never know how people are going to interact with what it is that you put out there. Just hearing your experience, I hadn’t imagined what it could mean to someone else. I was just making the video and hoping people would enjoy it.

The fact that it was able to allow you to have the cry you needed is so mind-blowing to me.

I’m grateful for that.

That song is so sincere. And I could share it with my parents and they would get it.

That’s my Carole King influence. Carole King and Bill Withers. I thought, ‘How can this be a song that kids could sing? That people who are older could sing? That we could all sing together?’

Game Winner revolved around basketball.

Was there a force behind Inside Voice?

The basketball theme was born out of this injury that I got playing basketball that interrupted the Inside Voice recording process.

I took a break from the record by chance and inspiration did this basketball love therapy album. Then I finished Inside Voice. I think the driving force for this album is two-fold.

There’s this holy trinity of songwriters that I was looking at, the people who had the biggest influence on me as a child and in my musical

upbringing. Those three people are Carole King, Marvin Gaye and Harry Nilsson— looking at their work, their songs, their messaging, their performances, their records, and allowing them to seep in as muses. They wrote songs people of all ages could sing. They wrote about love, peace, the state of the world.

And they wrote songs that were sexual in nature. The songwriting took precedent over everything. I did all the writing for this record before going into the studio. The songs can all exist as just me sitting at a piano and playing them. For me that’s an older technique but it’s one that lasts. It’s a great way to tell a story.

The studio brings life to it. If the song is that sturdy that you can play it by itself, it can probably be done a lot of different ways. The way I chose to do it for this record is through a more lush wall-of-sound thing. And I got my favorite string arranger in the world—Miguel Atwood Ferguson. That was a requirement. I wanted to work with him.

There are other guests like Moses Sumney.

What did he contribute? And how did you link up with Mocky as co-producer?

Moses sings background vocals on four tracks and on one he does a little percussion. He’s on ‘Inside Voice,’ ‘Get It Right,’ ‘Take Mine,’ and also on an interlude at the end called ‘One More Time.’ He’s an amazing artist. I was lucky that he jumped in. He just came through the studio. I played on something for him and he came in and just sang beautifully, as he does. I found out about Mocky when I heard Jamie Lidell’s Multiply and the Feist album The Reminder, two really big records for me when I was just starting to write. I come from a jazz place and one of the jazz things to do is really inspect the liner notes. I kept seeing his name. He co-produced both. Years later I found out he was in L.A. I responded to one of his tweets and he DM’d me and we met up for lunch and started writing. There was a musical synergy there. He’s a musical hero to me, the complete package as far as a writer-producer-multi-instrumentalist.

How did you wind up singing the national anthem at a Lakers game? And at Madison Square Garden?

An amazing guy named Sean Bennett. He heard about Game Winner and that I loved basketball and invited me to play a halftime show at a Knicks game. It was a dream come true. I asked if I could do the national anthem

too. Since then I’ve gotten to do it at a Phoenix Suns game, and at Lakers and Clippers games too. Basketball obviously means a lot to me and doing the anthem at these games is va unique experience where sports and music collide. I feel so many different things about our country right now and even just this idea that we’re going to have a patriotic, nationalistic moment at the beginning of every sports game … But the way I see it is it’s this two-minute opportunity for everyone to shut up and focus on this musical moment.

So much can be said in that moment.

Do you think it’s an artist’s responsibility to be political at this moment?

A lot of artists feel that way. If it’s authentic then yeah—it’s important to be authentic to what you feel. It’s not the easiest thing in the world. We make art for different reasons.

We make art about different things. After my basketball injury, Donald Trump got elected president. I had the thought of, ‘Wow, I’m glad I didn’t finish my record because we’re living in a post-Trump world now and that means my record needs to be different.’ The song ‘In Heaven’ … for me that was political.

But you can listen to it and think it’s a about love. It’s hard to write a political song that’s not preachy. I don’t want to preach. Not every artist can be Marvin Gaye and write ‘What’s Going On.’ Artists should be authentic to themselves and what resonates with them.

If you can warm someone’s heart and help them forget their fears, that’s important.

I’m thankful for music and for music to be that force. It’s my hope a song like ‘Take Mine’ makes someone feel empowered and inspired. I hope people can use it as juice and fuel, whether it’s emotional and personal or to give them a boost in their fight for human rights. We definitely in this day and age have a responsibility to vote and be compassionate about humans in this world and to think critically and to be active and not passive in real life, and not just on social media. I want to do more. I want to learn, too. I’m here trying to be a part of the solution. How can I bring light to our collective humanity? That’s what I’m most interested in.

JOEY DOSIK’S INSIDE VOICE IS OUT NOW ON SECRETLY CANADIAN. VISIT JOEY DOSIK AT JOEYDOSIK. COM. INTERVIEW

42 album REVIEWS Edited by Kristina Benson and Chris Ziegler 44 THE INTERPRETER: WINTER & TRIPTIDES Curated by KRISTINA BENSON 49 WAYBACK MACHINE RON GARMON 50 LIVE PHOTOS EDITED BY DEBI DEL GRANDE

53 COMICS EDITED by Tom Child 54 FILM: ALONG FOR THE RIDE TOM CHILD 58 MAP Where to Find L.A. RECORD 60 ON THE RECORD: RECENT PREMIERES CHRIS ZIEGLER PLAGUE VENDOR AT THE GLASS HOUSE PHOTO: DEBI DEL GRANDE

ALBUM REVIEWS DaM-FunK—already renowned for his skill in sonic worldbuilding— has conjured four tracks from the shimmering ether between house and funk for Architecture II. These instrumentals glow with futuristic highlights, elegant piano runs, pulsing four/four beats and just the right amount of space. Opening cut “Don’t Give Up” is a pensive melody suspended in a pastel lattice of house chords. It gives way to “Best Weekend,” a dazed and dreamy track with moments of energetic g-funk, like the end of a romantic summer. “Bounce” is sexy and soulful, with subtle jingle bell punctuations on the 8s. The bass lines rolling through the EP make for a subtle funky underpinning and blossom into the foreground on the last track, a swirling cosmic disco song called “In The City.” For as mellow a mood as the album maintains, DāM-FunK keeps the beats per minute running high— any of these four cuts could pop into a DJ set and keep the right dance party humming.

—Christina Gubala

prowess as a bass player enhances the musical talents of those around him. Even within the context of inc. no world, his band with his brother Andrew, Aged’s presence is a subtle but crucial part of the whole. So hearing his solo musical instincts and inclinations basking in the spotlight—albeit modestly—is an enlightening experience. Strands of swirling kosmische atmosphere, elastic lap-steel and gentle acoustic strumming are braided together on this compact 8-track instrumental outing, and while his signature wahwah funk moments emerge here and there, this album is markedly meditative. He’s exercising his curiosity and inspiration at a peaceful pace, with a tempo set by beachy opener “Untdl1.” The beats aren’t the backbone here; instead, they serve as elements that define and sharpen the intimate and internal space he’s crafted here—a secret underwater garden into which he quietly invites his listeners. His musicianship is, as always, agile and sophisticated, and by keeping these ruminations compact, he deepens their impact—and at least for this listener—provokes an urgent desire to relive the experience. This is an album best listened to on loop.

—Christina Gubala

DANIEL AGED self-titled Quality Time

DEATH VALLEY GIRLS Darkness Rains Suicide Squeeze

Daniel Aged boasts studio and live credits in the upper echelons of the pop, funk, indie and ambient scenes, ranging from George Clinton to FKA Twigs. And regardless of the session he might be part of at any given moment, his wunderkind

Thought I was gonna get 80s Roky, but the sound here is 80s Iggy with an adrenalin shot of 45 Grave, too.

Death rock and Detroit rock—of course Death Valley Girls knew those should go together! “(One Less Thing) Before I Die,” “More

DAM-FUNK Architecture II EP Saft/Glydezone

BLACK FLAMINGO Living Ghost EP self-released Longtime fans of Black Flamingo will be happy to know that not only is the band’s hiatus officially over, the intervening years of individual members working on other projects hasn’t diluted their magic. Living Ghost showcases the band’s tropical goth sound at its finest, mixing a little levity with a generally dark style. The songs range from ominous on the first track “Black Tide” to outright danceable by the third, “One Last Time.” The title track is a standout with a haunting wall of sound at the beginning, echoing drums throughout, and a sweet piano breakdown toward the end.

Call-and-response vocals capture a sense of romantic yearning on the final track, “Steps,” and carry an incredibly catchy melody as well.

Each of the songs are expansive and thrilling, the sonic equivalent of the rush that comes with standing on the edge of a cliff. Fans of Tamaryn’s older output are sure to love it.

Living Ghost is a slice of dreamy doom, and marks a solid return for a much-missed band.

—Julia Gibson

ALBUM REVIEW SUBMISSIONS 42

Dead,” “Disaster (Is What We’re After)” and more are IgStoogeinspired shreddery from the same forbidden planet as Destroy All Monsters, thanks to especially Asheton-y guitar. (Some sax a la Funhouse on “Disaster,” too.) This isn’t a one-note album, although one note used well can be deadly. “Wear Black” is a 60s-gone-80s garage grinder with panting organ, and “TV in Jail on Mars” (refreshingly accurate title) is devoted to an exploito-film they’re-coming-foryour-daughters! aesthetic with cultchoir vocals. Wendy and Bonnie plus Black Angels? The Mamas and the Father Yods? You can practically hear the matching blood-red robes rustle. Darkness is a deeper and more distinctive album than you usually get with neo-neo-garage.

Lots of those bands are making pop-punk with 60s production as camouflage, but not Death Valley Girls. They truly do like the scary stuff, and they don’t sing about summertime crushes—they sing about eating brains. (“Unzip Your Forehead”) This isn’t much of a verse/chorus album—it’s vibe/vibe/ vibe, with the music and production and lyrics fit exactly together like components in some esoteric ritual.

Fittingly, this record doesn’t end so much as culminate. “Occupation: Ghost Writer” is a Kill City aftermidnight mood piece, and closer “Abre Camino” (“Open The Path”) is a slooooooow-burn Spacemen 3 mini-epic that lifts from a whisper to a frenzy. If you ever heard that part in S3’s “Revolution” that goes “I’m sooooooooooooo sick” and loved it … well, probably Death Valley Girls did too.

—Chris Ziegler

DELROY EDWARDS Aftershock L.I.E.S. When Delroy Edwards burst onto the scene in 2012, North American underground dance music was about to change. Edwards’ first single “4 Club Use Only” helped establish Ron Morelli’s Long Island Electrical Systems (L.I.E.S.) label as the forerunner of a movement that re-examined the sounds of house and techno through the lens of hardcore punk and noise. But soon a new generation of DJs and producers began to embrace dance music on its own terms, giving rise to today’s underground scene. While many of his contemporaries pursued clubfriendly directions, Edwards has taken a more experimental path, making damaged synth-punk and mutant electro in his signature lofi style. After a series of releases on his own L.A. Club Resource label, Edwards returned to L.I.E.S. for the 14-track LP Aftershock. Sonically, Edwards’ latest sounds like it crawled from the same swamp as 2016’s Hanging at the Beach and 2018’s Rio Grande, but where those records flirted with a range of genres, the majority of Aftershock is pure house. Specifically, these tracks harken back to the early days of house, when the sound had yet to be codified and Chicago teens were twisting consumer synths into weird and wild forms. In both the composition and production techniques of Aftershock, there is a homespun aesthetic that makes the music feel rooted in a different era. With percussive workouts like “Defcon 5” and “Swingin The Bitch,” Edwards recalls Farley Jackmaster Funk and other Trax mainstays, while on the barebones “Beats,” the vocal chop references Jamie Principle’s Chicago house anthem, “Your Love.” However, Aftershock is at its best on songs like “Killer Charlie” and “MMT8 Jam,” when Edwards lets the melodies run free. So much contemporary dance music is quantized to perfection, but the synths here have a hand-played quality that makes them sound

L.A. RECORD invites all local musicians to send music for review­—anything from unreleased MP3s and demos to finished full albums. Send digital to fortherecord@larecord.com and physical to L.A. RECORD, P.O. Box 21729, Long Beach, CA 90801. If you are in a band and would like to advertise your release in L.A. RECORD, email advertise@larecord.com ALBUM REVIEWS

refreshingly expressive. Despite the obvious nods to early club culture, Aftershock isn’t exactly uplifting.

The same sense of foreboding that permeated Edwards’ last two LPs hangs heavily here. But that murky atmosphere functions to bind these tracks together, and makes even Edwards’ most minimal beats speak volumes.

—Joe Rihn

DIE GROUP Disease Control Sex Tape The world can be bleak sometimes, so why not some bleak music? Los Angeles trio Die Group have created the perfect soundtrack to the grim and dim moments on their first full-length Disease Control. Picking up right where they left off on their debut “Joe Namath” 7”, the new record sees the band continuing to deliver some of the most blackened garage punk around. Avoiding the flat lo-fi production common to the majority of garage rock influenced records, Die Group’s sound is heavier, meaner, and more corrosive.

Above all, the record is atmospheric and vibey in a way that few punk acts ever achieve. The shadows grow long on the walls, the room gets smoky, and grit sticks to your teeth when you spin this one. It’s perfect for a walk through a forgotten cemetery or a desperate struggle for survival on a sinking ship. Die Group aims for the head on Disease Control and hits the target.

Pre-Strike Sweep’s story begins to crystallize after about the eighth listen. Maybe this is just projection, and there’s no real way of knowing, but to this listener, this album produces image after image in the mind—foremost being the famous statue the Gute (The Goodness) overlooking the hollowed-out buildings of Dresden after the Allies gutted of the city. And really, that describes what’s going on here— on this second album, GØGGS are going pure id. This album is all passion, desire, aggression and instinct. It feels like standing in the backwash of a departing airliner, and abandoning anything remotely approaching self-preservation. It’s like a constant mental reel of torture and anguish thought buried, but now rediscovered in man … and the wail of knowing tha the end, despite all efforts, is near. Just listen to the mayhem of “Burned Entrance,” and its menacing guitar lines and maelstrom rhythm section. Chris Shaw—his vocals blurred for the most part—is grappling with a conceptual violence constantly threatening to become real. Charlie Moothheart, Ty Segall and Michael Anderson offer seizure-inducing symphonies of panic. Although difficult to make out some of the lyrics, Pre-Strike Sweep demands you listen, and listen repeatedly.

There’s a new discovery each time. Like the pandemonium of ‘Disappear’—disorientation so total it’s like surrendering to a rip current, and thrashing the final thrash in the undertow. (But no use: you are the latest victim.) GØGGS have taken the chaotic aesthetic of the Stooges to its logical conclusion. Pre-Strike Sweep is the fraying of the mind, the knife stuck in the abdomen. It’s a virus, gnawing at you even after it’s seemingly gone. Looking for an anodyne listen? This isn’t it—this is all open wounds and existential dread. The best kind of listen.

—Nathan Martel

—Simon Weedn

GØGGS Pre-Strike Sweep In The Red ALBUM REVIEWS

GOSSAMER Imperishable Innovative Leisure Evan Reiner’s work as Gossamer has covered a lot of ground, from sample-based hip-hop to

abstract synth sketches, all soaked in ominous atmosphere culled from a trove of field recordings.

That background comes to the foreground on Imperishable, a textured exploration of a “possible afterlife experience” through dreamlike soundscapes. Inspired

by Reiner’s experiences with meditation and his musings on death, the numbered tracks read like chapters in an interpretive Divine Comedy. “II Path To Understanding”’s white-light guitar is massive enough to carry the seven-minute track, but plaintive enough to allow the listener to fill in the scenery themselves. The turn away from percussion (except for the Chain Reaction-leaning “V Awakening in Sleep”) has netted a lot of “ambient” tags, but Imperishable demands too much focus to be used for background music. It’s more in line with L.A. experimentalists like Infinite Body or Suzanne Kraft, who produce drifting, emotive LPs that play at the fringes of active and passive listening. With the glut of music at our disposal making it all too easy to skim a couple of songs and bounce to the next attraction, it’s refreshing to have a work that rewards closed eyes, deep breaths, and an active imagination.

—Zach Bilson

HEALING GEMS Feathered Serpent EP self-released Healing Gems’ description on their website says, “Space Age Tequila Sunrise, Trash Lounge, Lava Pop from Los Angeles,” and geez, they’ve basically done my job for me.

Clocking in under fifteen breezy minutes, Feathered Serpent is four tracks that might accompany a film montage of people in floral prints shaking martinis and winking at the camera. Nothing here takes itself too seriously—song titles like “Shopping With Harambe (Stealing from Fresh ‘n’ Easy)” and “Clown Beer” give you a sense of where they’re coming from—but that’s not to say it doesn’t sound perfectly well thought out. Recorded and mixed for maximum delight by

Dante White Aliano, Serpent is chock full of bossanova/exoticainspired organs, shakers, vibraslaps, an omnichord (if you can believe it) and oohs, ahs and las courtesy Edgar Mendoza, Michael Castellanos, Eddie Camacho, Patricia Reyes and Xochi Shirtz—and lead singer Jared Marin’s vocals perfectly match the insouciant music. This is a band that’d fit right in providing the soundtrack (and, in fact, DID!) at the Bob Baker Marionette Theater. And while the recorded output is fun, seeing the band live is an exercise in embracing joyful abandon, which is in rare supply these days. Exotica as a genre hasn’t always aged well, but Healing Gems reclaim its worthiest moments and make them their own. Feathered Serpent feels like a getting into a pool at just the right temperature.

—Tom Child

HERE LIES MAN You Will Know Nothing Ridingeasy I’m writing in the middle of a heat wave while trapped in the hottest room in the house, and Here Lies Man has become more than metaphor. It’s the essential state of suffering—the very reality of being!—and You Will Know Nothing becomes the soundtrack to said suffering, embodying the sweltering undulating rhythm of pure heat.

It’s been endlessly documented that the influences of Afrobeat and Black Sabbath are at work in the music of Here Lies Man. But to this listener, there’s a lot of Power of Zeus and Paul Ngozi—and the Ngozi Family—represented as well.

The boiling-cauldron drums and the fuzzed-out lo-fi vocals point to a particular refinement of that aesthetic. But on Nothing, Here Lies Man elaborate on their influences, most profoundly on “Summon Fire” and “You Ought to Know,” while the disorienting propulsive “Blindness” suggests the aliment suffered by the protagonists in José Saramago’s novel of the same name, creating a half-there image of a world collapsing both inward and out. A palpable frustration hammers at the heart of this album, something only mitigated by

dancing through the exhaustion.

The refrain of “Fighting” serves as reminder: there is no way out. So shut your mouth—suffering in silence has never sounded so good.

—Nathan Martel

JACK DRAG 2018 Burger If you thought Jack Drag was dead, that’s understandable. After all, L.A.based musician John Dragonetti hadn’t touched his old solo alias in 16 years, and he experienced lots of success in the meantime, both as a composer for film and TV and as one half of indie-rock iPhone commercial soundtrackers the Submarines. But you can bet there are some 90s bedroom-pop nerds out there who will celebrate Dragonetti’s revival of his alter ego on his new 2018. And with good reason. The guy has a preternatural gift for bringing together the punch (if not necessarily the power) of power pop, the approachability of folk-rock and the cool futurism of electronic music, all filtered through a lushly arranged and highly listenable lens. On 2018, Jack Drag sounds like a smarter, more ambitious Weezer (“New Number One”), showtunes from outer space (“Little Lies”), sunbaked latter-day Wilco (“I Am Not Willing”), deeply resonant psych-folk (“Spirits”) and a perfectly juicy apple fallen from the Beatles/Beach Boys family tree (“Strangers”). Don’t let all the other band names fool you, though: on 2018, Dragonetti pulls all these sounds together under his big, cohesive pop tent. Jack Drag was never dead. He was just laying low.

And it’s good to have him back.

—Ben Salmon

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THE INTERPRETER

WINTER & TRIPTIDES Interview by Kristina Benson Photography by Maximilian Ho

S: Oh my God, this song is really poetic and it ended up being very political and it was even a play. They made a play out of this song. He is really intellectual and political but he did it in his own way—he wasn’t a hippie or a rock ‘n’ roller, he did it through language and being smart. People didn’t realize how political that song was.

G: My Brazilian friend was moving back to Brazil and gave me tons of records for $20 and this one has a note from someone who gave it to his mom’s friend who he got the collection from.

S: ‘A friend from faraway misses you!’

G: May 25, 1968!

Gilberto Gil História Da Música Popular Brasileira (Abril Cultural, 1982) Samira Winter—of the band Winter, of course—and Glenn Brigman of Triptides spent the last two years writing and working together to make an album steeped in the music of Brazil. Their Estrela Magica is a celebration of samba, Tropicalia, MPB, bossa nova and more, and it’s out now on the OAR label. (They’ll be performing at the Roxy on Tues., Oct. 23.) They met to share some of the records that inspired Magica: past classics, contemporary contenders and a few extra-special discoveries in between.

Os Mutantes SELF-TITLED (Brasileira de Discos, 1968) Samira Winter: These are records that we really love together and bonded over and because of this music started working on music together. That was inspired by this and really wanting to honor these bands and musicians.

Glenn Brigman: I bought this in Indiana in college at a local shop called Landlocked. It’s one of the best record stores in the midwest. It’s a reissue—it’d be really rare to find an original. It’s important for the stuff we’re making because it was a landmark album for the Tropicalia movement—it was a combo of Tropicalism and the ideas of the time.

[The band] was obsessed with the British invasion. So it’s like a Brazilian Beatles record—like Sergeant Pepper’s but — S: It’s really rock’n’roll. It’s really avant garde for the time. It was two brothers and one of the brothers would make distortion pedals and all these fuzz pedals and guitars. It’s probably one of the first times in Brazilian music people were using fuzz pedals. There’s a song called ‘The Clock’ and there’s a ticking clock. It’s just a very cool guitar record.

Erasmo Carlos Carlos, Erasmo (PHILIPS, 1971) S: Erasmo was older. He was part of this group called Jovem Guarda —a TV show with artists, kind of pop. They would sing a song every night, and he branched out from that scene and became an incredible songwriter. But he was more under the radar than his partner and this record—I feel like he’s the Todd Rungren of Brazilian music! It’s cool because this is a record he’s still playing today. It’s timeless and it’s cool to see a younger generation in Brazil listening to him.

G: I love this song ‘Gente Aberta.’ It heats up at the end with brass, but starts really chill! Teminds me of Beggars Banquet. Rock ’n’ roll but chiller. It’s good vibes!

S: Mine is ‘Masculino, Feminino.’ Just a super sweet song, and if you’re first picking up the record that’s an easy song to get into. Laid back and pretty.

S: This comp starts with 60s and goes through the 80s. It’s got one of my fave songs, ‘Lugar Comun’ by Joao Donato—it’s really jazzy but it’s got such beautiful melodies. This comp gives a lot of insight into how collaborative those musicians were. it was common to record someone else’s song, it was common to give someone a set of lyrics to work on songs—it was a time of creativity and collaboration. ‘Here, have this song! You should re-record it!’ It’s a different etiquette.

G: It was a communal thing—no one was trying to out do each other.

My favorite song is ‘Domingo No Parque.’ It was a really big deal when he first performed it—it was the coming out of the Tropicalia movement. It was hippie people playing songs with fuzz guitars and there was even an orchestra there. It was such a big deal that the government and the military got freaked out.

S: It was a festival that was a song competition, and coming from an era of bossa nova where everyone was clean-cut and soft and pretty with acoustic instruments ... they were jamming out and people started booing and throwing stuff at Joao Gilberto and Os Mutantes and those people were going to be censored and they had to live in exile. At the time artists had to be extra creative in using figurative language so the government wouldn’t censor them. So ‘Domingo No Parque’ was part of a counter culture movement.

G: One of the songs is in Spanish and Portuguese: ‘Soy Loco Por Ti America’. Back and forth line by line. Like ‘It doesn’t matter what our language is. We’re one group of people.’

Jorge BeN Samba Esquema Novo (PHILIPS, 1963) G: It starts with ‘Mas Que Nada,’ which was a huge song for introducing the U.S. to Brazilian music.

S: Whenever we play in Portuguese, people say ‘Mas Que Nada’! That song is so universal. This song is so classic. It will forever be part of Brazil. Everyone knows it. It was still when he was very samba—it’s early 60s, but Jorge Ben is such a good song writer and it’s so cool to have a record like this and to have the Gilberto Gil comp record and listen to him and his songs in a different way.

G: ‘Mas Que Nada’ is Sergio Mendes’ signature song, but when you feel Jorge’s version, it’s so much more personal.

Rodrigo AMarante Cavalo (Easy Sound, 2014) S: I grew up listening to his indie rock band Los Hermanos—like the strokes of Brazil. Big indie rocker, and then he branched out and came to L.A. and he was part of Little Joy, and recorded his first record in 2013. It’s very intimate. A lot of it is him on guitar and some of the songs are in English. It’s a nice record if you want something Brazilan yet current. I really recommend it.

Chico Buarque De Hollanda vol. 3 (RGE, 1968)

Boogarins As Plantas Que Curam

G: He’s part of the transition from singer-songwriter bossa samba— he didn’t immediately jump into psychedelia. He was still singing about Carnival and the classic samba archetypes.

S: If you were a teenager your parents might be into him. He was part of the bossa nova movement, part of the apartment scene, playing guitar in apartments in Rio. It took him longer—some point after this record—to really break out and be rebellious. You can see it in the album art. He’s a kid and he’s clean-cut and it’s OK to like him.

G: It’s a kid the record company saw promise in and they produced it and it’s awesome­—he probably recorded in the best studio in Rio. S: He was like the Beach Boy—he looks like the Dennis Wilson of Brazil. His uncle wrote the Brazilian dictionary. His family is Rio middle-class intellectual. A lot of musicians and writers in his family.

G: My favorite song is probably ‘Roda Viva’ —

(Other Music, 2013)

S: The biggest indie band in Brazil is Boogarins, named after a jasmine flower in Brazil. This first record is very psych. Home recorded by two childhood friends in their house. The record took off and they put out two more but I think this is a good intro. There is still good Brazilian music being made! There’s still a lot of hope and it doesn’t have to be about the past. This is a great record: lot of beautiful songs, more in the rock’n’roll genre, but also songs that are like acoustic guitar. ‘Lucifernandis’ is probably my favorite.

G: It showcases a lot of aspects of the band that made them famous: cool guitar licks, psych production, upbeat, not too heavy but nice.

The singer has a beautiful voice. He sings like a bird.

S: He looks like Jimi Hendrix— G: —when he sings like a bird! I met them at SXSW in like 2012.

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The first day they toured in America I saw them, and I spoke to them in Portuguese and they were like, ‘Oh thank God you speak Portuguese—we speak textbook English and this has been intense.’

I kept in touch for the past six years.

S: Our record is the same label as Boogarins! We’ve been very inspired by them! I met them at Lolipop in Echo Park! I think Glenn was there! It’s very close to our heart cause we personally love the band! Go see them live!

G: Yes—they put up like a forcefield around everything in sight.

No one talks. They make this ... atmosphere. And they jam!

Paulinho da Viola Foi Um Rio Que Passou Em Minha Vida (Odeon, 1970) G: I got this one from my Brazilian friend Pedro as well! Every song is about the classic staples of samba: happiness, sadness, Carnival.

Just a classic Rio Brazilian sound.

S: In Carnival there are the samba schools—in a way it’s a school, but you don’t like have classes. A lot of people are together, and each of them has a percussive instrument and a string instrument and women and men dance. It’s a ‘school’ because it’s lot of people and each one has a history. It’s kind of like with soccer—there are people who cheer and there’s a lot of rivalries. And there are people who have different samba schools. Every year in carnival one wins the best outfits, best presentation, and Da Viola was part of that. We chose this record to represent the samba and the samba roots of Rio. G: This record is from 1970 but doesn’t veer much from the classic style of the 1960s. It sounds good—Brazil 1970s sounds like America 1960s. I love the 60s sound so I love this. Just a bunch of people in a room with nice mics dancing and playing while he was singing live, so it’s got a really good feeling and energy. He wasn’t trying to trip out and fight the government or anything.

JENN CHAMPION Single Rider Hardly Art Jenn Champion’s transformation from lo-fi folk singer to dance music scion is as total a reinvention as any in recent popular music. In the early aughts, she co-fronted the cult indie-folk Seattle band, Carissa’s Weird, a band that also included future Band of Horses co-founders Ben Bridwell and Mat Brooke. Carissa’s Wierd—and Jenn Ghetto as she was then known— were so quiet and damaged that even when amplified, they were often hard to hear over their audience. As Carissa’s Wierd’s dissolved—and Band of Horses rose from the residue—Jenn took an even quieter and more fragile turn as an artist named S with an album called Puking And Crying. Now donning the name Jenn Champion, she has reentered our orbit like a shooting star—sparkling, brilliant, and happily unexpected. Single Rider is a collection of—in the most organic and romantic sense of the term—pop music. Like Robyn at her most insouciant and Lady Gaga at her most lucid, the songs on “Single Rider” pulse with romanticism both remorseful and hopeful, equally and beautifully as 46

much about the excitement of a new love as the bitter dissolution of an dying relationship. “Never Given In” is pop music at its best—a well-crafted lyric wrapped up with a sing-songable hook and commanding beat. The pivot to dance music will get the most attention (and understandably so), but it’s Jenn’s lyrics and writing that really nudges the needle here.

“The Move” is one lover telling another what makes them so appealing—and ultimately makes the teller so dependent—and in “Coming For You”, Jenn sings, “Love ain’t nothing to lose / it’s something to prove.” Isn’t that something we all wish we could sing about—and mean?

—Kegan Pierce Simons

JERRY PAPER Like A Baby Stones Throw

Jerry Paper’s full-length Stones Throw debut is aptly titled Like A Baby: it’s playful, joyful, and curious, and each of its compactly designed tracks unfurls to bask in the sun like it’s waking up to experience its very first day on earth. Sugary harmonies, wahwah guitar, diaphanous synths and Lucas Nathan’s distinctive baritone are joined on Like A Baby by the occasional trill of brass and woodwind, Wii-menu riddims and other touches of the fantastical. The result is a rosecolored fantasy tinged with the memory (but not necessarily the sound) of the summer of 1967.

Starting frrom the hazy ascent of the opening track and lead single “Your Cocoon,” it all becomes a pleasant daydream, even though his lyrics tread carefully through day-to-day adult realities like instant coffee binges, traffic-jam anxiety moments over money, leaving one’s phone at home to feel healthier, and tossing and turning at 4 AM. Altogether, it’s a bit like the Santa Ana winds that he namechecks on the closing track, “More Bad News”: there’s something warm and almost supernatural in the balance he’s found here between a rosy kind of innocence and an impressively mature musicality.

—Christina Gubala

AstrUd Gilberto AND Walter WanderlEy A certain smile A Certain Sadness (Verve, 1966)

G: Astrud was married to Joao and they came to New York and were recording with Stan Getz. It was a weird love triangle—a lot of alcoholism. She and Joao split up, but she kept his name.

S: It was very classy too! The bossa nova drug of choice was alcohol. They’d be playing guitar with whiskey next to them.

G: I have five of Walter’s records—he’s incredible. Jazz virtuoso Hammond organ. Every bossa nova, every samba song, just with him, bass and drums. Astrud will sing these beautiful verses and he’ll shred these tasteful Hammond parts. It feels like you’re on a boat in Rio. Classy and beautiful. Allegedly Joao plays guitar on three tracks but he is not credited. It’s a pretty great record!

S: Bossa nova is all about nostalgia and melancholy—something so beautiful and also so sad.

Various Brazil’s Super Hits (Atlantic, 1968) G: It’s really the record that set me off on the whole thing. Pedro lent it to me and I wouldn’t give it back. I was like, ‘I’ll trade you three records for this one!’ It’s got Joao, Sergio Mendes, Herbie Mann, all these people doing classic songs. A lot of them are from Orfeu Negro, which is part of the Brazilian new wave. A French company went to Brazil and worked with a Brazilian film crew and it’s the story of Orpheus, but they mix it with macumba and the African spirits. It’s a uniquely Brazilian twist on the classic Greek. And there’s tons of samba! I’d put this on and play it and flip it again. It has Sergio Mendes, which I like because he’s a great piano player and I’m a piano player. My dad actually had one of these records. I was trying to learn all these songs in the guitar and that’s how I got into speaking Portuguese. Samira helps me and we talk sometimes for fun! And whenever I see Boogarins I try to speak Portuguese!

JOYCE MANOR Million Dollars To Kill Me Epitaph Over ten years and five albums, Joyce Manor has become one of L.A.’s most consistent bands.

They’ve never attempted a drastic reinvention or even taken a lengthy break. They’ve just gradually shifted from an emo band with power-pop tendencies to a power-pop band with emo tendencies, polishing their recordings and pushing themselves a little further each time. Their latest, Million Dollars To Kill Me, feels like a further strengthening of their assets, reworking the layered and concise songwriting of 2016’s Cody and matching it to the anything-goes approach of their preEpitaph days. The album’s stranger moments come as experiments

with co-writing—Impossibles frontman Rory Phillips, an idol of frontman Barry Johnson worked on several tracks over email, resulting in the Orange Juice-esque aural SSRI “Wildflowers” and the near-psychedelic “Silly Games,” which features acoustic guitar, glockenspiel, and piano over some of the prettiest harmonies Johnson and bassist Matt Ebert have ever laid down. Of course, Johnson is lovelorn as ever: “Big Lie” has him moaning “I wanna be controlled, I think it’d be alright” over chugging power chords that would make Ric Ocasek shed a tear, and the title track’s chorus fawns over a girl who “could take you to a pawn shop and sell you for twice what you’re worth.” Superstar producer Kurt Ballou (Converge, Code Orange, every hardcore band) and mixer Andrew Scheps (uh … Weezer, Green Day and the like) translate that despair and ennui into wallof-sound therapy, turning a band with a history of hangover lore into a thundering alarm clock for the morning after a hard night. After a decade, Joyce Manor sound bigger than ever—they’re headlining the Palladium in January—but they’re still writing songs that wouldn’t be out of place at VLHS or Bridgetown. Hopefully they treat us to another decade or two.

—Zach Bilson

KATZÙ OSO Pastel Counter Culture / Cosmica Imagine the county fair, buzzing on a Friday night: vivid colors, glittering lights, and couples smiling and walking hand-in-hand.

Laid-back love is in the air, and if you could turn down the noises of reality—like oldies music and snorting farm animals—you’d have Katzú Oso’s debut EP Pastel, a sugar-coated synth-pop project that effortlessly captures this classic kind of romance. This doesn’t mean the Montebello bedroom pop producer—real name Paul Hernandez—is all naïvete and optimism, however. It’s true that among his circle of young selfstarting L.A.-raised musicians, Hernandez has developed an artistic persona that’s unabashedly romantic. On “Cherry Love” and “Give It Up to You,” he’s a sweettalking character whose lyrics are the icing on top of his synth-driven and sometimes 80s-esque music, and the lyrics to “Rose” are just dripping with desire: “What’s it gonna take, girl, for you to fall in love with me / Just kiss me longer, don’t want this to end / ‘Cause after all you were my best friend.”

But Oso isn’t afraid to explore heartbreak either: “Honeydew” is the story of a bitter romantic disconnect, while “Crazy4LuvinU” is candidly depressive as the narrator doubts his sanity for sticking with a dysfunctional relationship. This double-sided quality of Pastel—an engaging pop record split between the ecstasy and anguish of love —makes it ready for plenty of replay. But it’s Hernandez’s clarity of emotion that gives Pastel its addictive charm—something that will appeal to fans of Cuco and the like. It feels fuzzy and intimate even at its most tragic, thanks to consistently bubbly production and poetic lyrics in both English and Spanish. (See “Pastel” and “Coqueta.”) Pastel has its moments of darkness, but it’s a bright beginning for this boy from Montebello.

—Sydney Sweeney ALBUM REVIEWS

THE MOLOCHS Flowers In The Spring Innovative Leisure Press “play” on the Molochs’ new album Flowers in the Spring, and it doesn’t take long to recognize that the L.A.-based pop-rock duo is following a slightly more approachable muse this time around. The band’s last album— America’s Velvet Glory, released at the beginning of 2017—retrofitted the shuffle and melodies of 60s heroes like Dylan, the Kinks and the Velvet Underground with the deadpan swagger of modern California garage-rock. The resulting tunes were catchy, but often tense. The first track on Flowers, on the other hand, portends a shift toward a strummier, more spacious sound that recalls Aussie pop gods the Go-Betweens. It’s called “To Kick in a Lover’s Door,” and it floats effortlessly atop a common (and cozy) chord progression, while vocalist Lucas Fitzsimons sounds warm and welcoming, even as he sings biting lines like “You wouldn’t know beauty if it kissed you in the night.” Flowers isn’t all sunshine and jangle, but there is a general aesthetic reframing here that casts the Molochs in a more likable light. After all, writing great tunes is only part of the job—it helps to let people get close enough to hear them, too.

Berman, and that’s great news for me because it’s been a decade since the Silver Jews released its final album, leaving a vacuum where once a languidly monotone man of letters recited deft turns of phrase over straightforward country influenced indie rock and it’s such an emotionally satisfying style for those with a bent toward a particularly American brand of melancholy.

“Jane” nudges you into the album with its dour gorgeousness, before the rocking swagger of “Glendale” splashes some cold water in your face with some evocative opening lines (“Won’t you bury me in Glendale/between the Pep Boys and the porno store?”). The rest of the album continues in much the same fashion, alternating sedate Leonard Cohen-esque folk from a man resigned to the whims of fate, interspersed with powerful, driving, occasionally shredded rockers, full of wry, evocative words, lyrically straightforward but emotionally dense. The pacing is fantastic, keeping the tempo from feeling too one-note, as is the contribution of backup vocalist Lucy LaForge, providing a counterbalance to Flessa’s baritone, and the pedal steel (courtesy J.D. Carrera) tugs at heartstrings already threatening to snap. This is music made for drinking beer alone at the bar, smirking about how damn ridiculous the turns of one’s life can be. But it’s the hope that keeps you going. As Flessa sings, “There is mercy in this night/a backyard sanctuary...there is mercy, there is grace.”

—Tom Child

—Ben Salmon

NOA JAMES Granny Said The Order Label

NICK FLESSA Flyover States Eliterecords On Flyover States, Nick Flessa is heavily channeling his inner David

Noa James sounds a lot like Ronald Reagan. The Inland Empire’s finest rapper spits bars about self-reliance (‘playing the victim is venom’), family values and Satan’s evils (‘the devil be hatin’) over the course of his very good 15-track album Granny Said. Maybe Ronny was onto something. Sharp minds will catch that this album is a tribute to his grandmother, a major influence on his worldview. Voicemails from

her are sprinkled throughout, to great effect—she’s a wit, and more than a little funny. Noa is no different. “Slytherin” boasts some of the finest bars this summer. He oozes “Diamond studded elephant, glistening cinnamon, Hennessy in the Benz” over a fantastic skittering, stripped beat. “Buu’s Hungry,” one of several bass-heavy trap tracks, is at once menacing and gut-busting. (“Then I gained the power to turn people into fried chicken / fuckboys into side dishes”). He’s a mainstay of the IE and L.A. underground music scene, yet this is his first album since 2011—an overdue status update. Lyrically it’s an adventurous inner monologue, detailing his struggles and triumphs with body image, his palpable love for the women in his life, and his obsession with pop culture. It features phenomenal cameos from scene mainstays Sahtyre and Cleo a.k.a. HippieTrapGoddess, as well as fine production from Aye Brook and Gypsy Mamba. For someone big on self-reliance, he sure can assemble a great team.

—Tolliver

OBJECT AS SUBJECT PERMISSION Lost Future Every so often, a band comes along that shocks you with just how evocative their music is. OBJECT AS SUBJECT has earned a spot in that category with their debut full-length PERMISSION. From the opening vocoder wails on “YEAH YOU WANT ME (TO BELIEVE)” to the final notes of band leader Paris Hurley’s classical violin on “iii.,” these songs invoke a visceral anger, sorrow, desire, and exhilaration. In their bio, OBJECT AS SUBJECT refers to the album as a “feminist battle cry” and states that it is “a call to action,” and those descriptions are right on.

The lurching, almost industrial drumbeats, sharp punk guitar riffs, and confrontational vocals à la Donita Sparks will get you moving your body, stomping your feet, and screaming along. They cover a lot of lyrical territory in eleven songs, addressing topics all too familiar to

women—for instance, they tackle objectification and the shame that comes with it on “POM POM MOVES,” a song that culminates with a hissing, taunting refrain of “pussy pussy pussy pussy.” Between PERMISSION and their formidable choreographed live performances, OBJECT AS SUBJECT unapologetically takes up space, and—just as importantly—holds space for disenfranchised listeners to express themselves and challenge oppression as well.

—Julia Gibson

SADGIRL “Breakfast for 2” EP Suicide Squeeze Listening to “Breakfast for 2” feels like a Sunday morning in Long Beach, waking up to the sea breeze and overcast skies with the victorious partiers from the long night before—it’s the perfect accompaniment to a stroll through the neighborhood to the diner at 11:30 AM. On this single, SadGirl explore the regrets that come with lingering indecision while also paying tribute to their influences— ”Jack The Ripper” is a cover of Link Ray’s classic. [Done in part as tribute to Charlie Megira as well—ed.] You can almost see the stream rising off of the coffee, and watch the thoughts racing behind half-awake eyes. If there is a comparison to be made here, SadGirl might remind you of Tijuana Panthers on quaaludes— but in the best way possible, of course. It’s surf-y and dreamy, hazy and liquid—like a swell in the ocean, not the waves breaking on shore. Encouraging infidelity has never seemed as endearing as on “Breakfast for 2.” SadGirl know how to make temptation attractive.

—Nathan Martel

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SALT LICK “Doctor (Of Love)” 7” Permanent In the Eddie Cochran classic, “Summertime Blues”—later beautifully mutilated by Blue Cheer—he sings “I’m a-gonna raise a fuss / I’m a-gonna raise a holler.” Salt Lick’s debut double-sided sludgsicle seven-inchdoes just that. There’s a pyramidal symmetry to a three-piece rock band like Salt Lick—think Motorhead, Minutemen, Nirvana, Rush. All-killer no-filler, four-onthe-floor throttling that hits you right in the third eye. Bluesy A-side “Doctor (Of Love”) is a sly homage to Kiss (in chorus) and owes as much to Vanilla Fudge as it does the Stooges. “Dirty Dream” kicks off with a riff lovingly snatched from the MC5s “Kick Out The Jams” before throttling into a VU-meterpinning solo that offers the cure for

anyone still wondering what to do about the summertime blues.

—Kegan Pierce Simons

SAM WILKES WILKES Leaving When an artist creates a sound unmistakably their own—that warrants exploration over multiple releases—it’s a sign that they’re onto something. On his new six-track LP

for Leaving, Sam Wilkes is definitely onto something. He may be familiar to some as an accomplished bassist delivering head-spinning lines in the fusion combo Knower, but on his latest—simply entitled WILKES— he becomes an intrepid bandleader and multi-instrumental alchemist, pushing further into the jazzdriven dream world introduced on his recent collaboration with Sam Gendel, Music for Saxofone and Bass Guitar. From the billowing synth pad that gives way to a cover of John Coltrane’s “Welcome” at the record’s beginning to the transcendent closer “Descending,” the world of WILKES is immersive. Gendel’s sax returns as a primary collaborator, shifting unpredictably between weightless smooth jazz and vivid free expression, while blurry chords and cascading drones build the record’s uniquely hazy atmosphere.

It’s a kind of modern jazz-not-jazz that inhabits its own spiritual plane.

Thomas Dolby Hyperactive: The Masters Collection BMG Two CDs worth of digitally remastered hits, near-hits, chart-grazers, and significant tracks curated to rook younger listeners into BMG’s extensive catalog, this set adds little to what other comps have already swept together ... but boy, does it rock! I never took the trouble to revisit new wave pop synth maestro Thomas Dolby’s slender catalog until now but the gain of many years and the loss of attendant radio static reveals Dolby as one of UK post-punk’s more charming curios. A self-taught prodigy who took up the synthesizer in the mid-1970s, Dolby released four LPs and an EP that roughly coincided with the short rise and long fall of new wave music. From 1982’s Golden Age of Wireless to 1992’s Astronauts & Heretics, he was a reliable source of arty commercial pop and in this—our decidedly non-melodic era—you have to marvel at his insistence on cramming every track with hooks. “Hyperactive!,” “Europa and the Pirate Twins,” “One of Our Submarines” and “The Devil is an Englishman” are all iconic tracks chock with period virtues and a demigod’s sense of flippancy. The slow fadeout of “Screen Kiss” is a thing of rare delicacy and the cover of Dan Hicks’ “I Scare Myself” differs from the original the same way a Lester Flatt record differs from the piano tinkling insistently in the Bar at the Edge of the Universe. Dolby’s trouble with the critics in his early 80s heyday (and since) is that he’s just too nimble a songwriter and polished a producer in a world that invests every fumble-fingered guitar oaf with absurd unearned dignity.

It was Dolby’s curse to be fighting for radio play with these dainty confections while U.S. fans were hailing every bum in faded Levis as the newest electric Woody Guthrie. “She Blinded Me with Science” was a worldwide hit whose echo you can hear in every other synth-pop band out there now. There’s some Reagan and Bush I era melancholia on the second disc but this provokes a fragile mood of period zeitgeist in any who have ever danced to “I Love You, Goodbye” and “”May the Cube Be With You”—or any who can imagine it.

Chris Butler & Ralph Carney Songs for Unsung Holidays Smog Veil This collection of winning hypotheticals represents a late word from 1980s pop wizard Chris Butler and, sadly, a last one from the late Ralph Carney, the original new wave jazzman. Both these guys entered the biz as segments of a short-lived new wave combo called Tin Huey that cracked U.S. charts exactly once with a 1979 cover of the “I’m A Believer” by the Monkees. Butler went on to be the mastermind behind the Waitresses, whose 1981 single “Christmas 48

While other jazz revitalizers found inspiration by bringing elements of hip-hop and club music into the mix, Wilkes turns the genre inside out to reveal an emotional resonance at its core—a mood equal parts melancholy and joy that remains distinct even if it’s difficult to pin down. That’s not to say WILKES doesn’t bridge genres. Several tracks contain passages that would be at home on a contemporary ambient record, while “Descending” makes sly use of an 808 hi-hat. Then there are drummers Christian Euman and Louis Cole, who invoke a prog sensibility on songs like “Tonight” and “Hug” which marks a decisive step forward from the understated beats of Music for Saxofone and Bass Guitar. But the real magic of WILKES is how its smoky production interacts with the ensemble. In the absence of high-fi definition, the group sounds amorphous and shapeshifting, blending at times into a single sonic

entity before separating back into its individual parts. On the album’s biggest moments you won’t hear the intricacies of each player. Instead you’ll be confronted with a wash of musical energy that feels like it was crammed into a single microphone, and sounds all the better for it.

—Joe Rihn

SAN CHA Capricho Del Diablo EP Outside Insight

Wrapping” went on to be something of a modern holiday standard. Carney evolved into a composer and multiinstrumentalist, as well as high-profile sideman for the likes of Tom Waits, Marc Ribot, Elvis Costello, Medeski Martin & Wood, They Might Be Giants, and the Black Keys. The precision raucousness of Carney’s sound was as distinctive as any saxman’s since Junior Walker’s and he expanded the instrument’s place in the rock vocabulary. Here both bend their wits to concocting songs in honor of such little-known holidays as Tapioca Pudding Day (which they celebrate with a country-music dirge), Introduce a Girl to Engineering Day (commemorated by a hilarious Zappaesque ode to dork lust and mansplaining) and Gorilla Suit Day, seen off with salutes and oo-oos and ah-ahs. “Cheese Ball Day” recounts an obscure and perhaps apocryphal story about President Jefferson receiving a giant wad of cheese and “Hippie Day” is pretty much self-explanatory.

The startling exception in the general vaudeville mirth is “Day of the Dead,” which is as grim as Randy Newman’s “God’s Song (That’s Why I Love Mankind)” and—in light of Carney’s death by home accident last December—downright creepy. The “deceased/deleted” chorus will burn your heart down.

Preacherman Universal Philosophy: Preacherman Plays T.J. Hustler’s Greatest Hits Luaka Bop Back in a far-distant land called the Late 1970s, a man named Tim Jones begat a musical alter ego called Preacherman who in turn begat T.J. Hustler, a literal dummy through which Jones mused on life and the cosmos before a backdrop of ambitious homemade synth-funk. This Bay Area stage act begat the staggering disco-era artifact Age of Individualism that already enjoys a second life as a reissue, so the question of releasing these vintage uncollected tracks answers itself. Recorded in 1980s Las Vegas, these tracks were culled from two postIndividualism albums Jones released on homemade CDRs. Here we see Jones updating his style for that narrow historical period between the evaporation of funk and the formalization of hip-hop. At some point above this chasm, Jones cut himself loose from genre and became a kind of freefalling comic moralist, a jolly drum-machine Rudy Ray Moore. Songs like “Feel It” and “Tell Me Why” lay down solid and intricate dance grooves while the lyrics ponder the same hedonistic emptiness and impending doom as most every other pop musician of the era but with a detached and fun-loving air. Jones doted on side-long tracks and “Up & Down” gives the gargle-voiced T.J. ample space to philosophize. “The Wrong Way” is a sign-off sermonette that sounds like one of those longwinded speculations occasionally made by rave DJs at some advanced hour long after a 21st century midnight.

ALBUM REVIEWS

San Cha is running from the devil.

She was nearly consumed. She’s Robert Johnson reborn, a queer folk hero tearing through L.A.’s eastside DIY cabal. Descending to L.A. from the Bay in 2015, she released the snarling new wave ranchera EP Capricho Del Diablo this summer to deserved fanfare. Each track is recorded in a single take—a.k.a. the gully way. The songs are tightly written, delivered as both punches and feints during an all-too-brief six cuts. The title track is a shuffling dirge, a lament on hopeless love, with its propulsive-then-languid structure mirroring the tragic romantic cycle of heartbreak and addiction. “Cosmic Ways” is a sly drug-reference-heavy metaphor about addiction to debt. She’s always been a sublime singer, but her low belt on this track is nearly criminal. San Cha’s calling card is her powerhouse voice, a tightly (and maybe sometimes barely) controlled instrument that pulls you to the cliff’s edge before coaxing you back to comfort. “Me Demandó” should be taught in schools. The playful counterpoint with her capable background singer, her voice dancing with abandon over the sauntering mid-tempo rhythms, her guttural cosmic shouts—it’s as affective as it is effective. The album sits nicely alongside Rosalia’s Los Ángeles, a pyrotechnics-packed album of guitar-driven dark flamenco ballads. San Cha takes a more fiery folk approach, centering her songs on recognizable melodies passionately delivered. The results are irresistible—a testament to her heart’s ability to outrun the demons in her head.

—Tolliver

SWARVY Anti Anxiety Paxico Since moving to Los Angeles a few years ago, hip hop/electronic producer Swarvy has been both prolific and unpredictable in the scope of music he’s put out. On Anti-Anxiety, the Philadelphia native finds a strong balance ALBUM REVIEWS

between golden age hip-hop and the Low End Theory-esque electronic styles many of his previous releases explored. Loaded with all the vintage-sounding production one could hope for, this record finds Swarvy at his most consistent and focused. Each track flows effortlessly into the next, and even when he’s working with different MCs—even when he’s changing sonic gears—he somehow maintains a cohesive sound. Swarvy’s ability to make it nearly impossible to differentiate between looped samples and live instruments is simply breathtaking.

This isn’t a recent development in Swarvy’s production, but it sounds particularly flawless on Anti-Anxiety. New and old sounds and styles unify and the result is something that seems to stand outside of time. For those who enjoy their hip-hop a bit off the beaten path or for those who are already big fans of the Low End Theory scene: this is a record not to be missed.

—Simon Weedn

corners of your room/your ears/ your head/your mind—that’s exploration in one dimension.

But Nue explores deeper contrasts, too. Some tracks are sinister, unsettling, even anxious, turning negative space into weight and tension—a negative emotional space, in a way—that in turn is washed away by waves of gentle warmth. (“Bottom Of The Sky” into “Mutable Signs”—from bells so clear they almost pierce the skin to something that feels like dissolving into serenity.)

Yoshi Wada’s bagpipes create a circulatory structure, opening from capillary thin to cavernous as the moment demands and moving fluid between just-so percussion and voice and Rileystyle rainbow synthesizer. Tashi Wada describes Nue as an album exploring duality—“full of joys and demons,” he says—and that’s exactly the dynamic, delivered with a confident authority that walks you hand-in-hand to the finish. “Moments” finishes twice, actually, the true and final time with a fractal array of synthesizers and bells that’s nothing short of cleansing. It’s the moment when the cloud lifts.

—Chris Ziegler

This song is in conversation with things I’ve heard from Teebs in the past, but it goes in its own direction right away. “The Quest” recalls a cosmic Coltrane, with the soulful singing of Dustin Warren to carry it home. A steady beat drives the song as horns blare in and out, Miguel AtwoodFerguson’s moody viola cuts into your soul, and Rebekah Raff brings her otherworldly harp.

“All That You Need” merges that spacey jazzy sound into soulful R&B, led again with Warren’s beautiful vocals. “Randal In Addis” and “Afrkia” return to an Ethiopian jazz direction that any fans of Mulatu Astatke will enjoy.

This is a strong solo showing by a musician who is no stranger to making music, but who is placing his name front and center on a project. Check it out.

—Zachary Jensen

TRAPS PS New Chants Innovative Leisure TASHI WADA WITH YOSHI WADA AND FRIENDS FRKWYS Vol. 14 – TE’AMIR Nue Abyssinia EP RVNG Intl.

Tru Thoughts Sonic artist and composer Tashi Wada’s collaboration with Fluxusmember father Yoshi Wada is named after not just the French word for “naked” but a folkloric Japanese chimera—relevant for an album made from so many living things. But the Japanese nue is a monster specifically known for its distinctive voice, and for the way it also takes the form of a cloud, and that’s the incarnation most animating this album. (Also what’s French for “cloud?” “Nuage.”) Nue is a surprisingly demanding listen, in that it demands a longer and more complicated journey than expected. Some tracks are barely there, suspended in their own space, and some tracks bloom and flow until they fill the farthest

Much can be said about he great work coming out of both the jazz and electronic beat scenes in Los Angeles—and especially about the comingling and collaboration between the two genres. Drummer, producer and beatmaker Te’Amir continues this trend of collaboration and plays with unique and complimentary sounds on his debut EP Abyssinia.

“Habesha” connects back to the sound of old Ethiopian jazz records and starts with a twisted and distorted piano track that drops out for a second, only to be brought back with a hard-hitting hip-hop-inspired beat with claps and subtle shakers—all while a spare yet beautiful harp sound weaves through the background.

Released exactly 366 days after their Lexicon Artist EP, the new full-length takes up where their last effort left off—and it’s quick and painless. It might not sound this way, but Traps PS are just a three-piece, consisting of drummer Miles Wintner, bassist Danny Miller, and singer/guitarist Andrew Jeffords. So how do they cram all that explosive energy into sixteen tracks of steadfastly propulsive rock riffs, with most barely two minutes per? Well, sometimes you don’t need a whole lot to make a great song. Much like the DIY venues that raised them— s/o to The Smell and Pehrspace— Traps PS prove that simplicity and minimalism are the foundation of everything. Sometimes you don’t need anything fancy on top—just wailing vocal melodies, poppin’ drum beats, groovy bass and some piercing guitar lines. Nothing is lost in the mix. The sound contains elements of post-punk with a little no-wave and some old school punk. Comparisons like early Minutemen, Gang of Four, Pink Flag-era Wire, the Birthday

Party, and Les Savy Fav all come to mind. As pseudonymous Bandcamp supporter “Yali” put it, New Chants is “Nothing but classics.” I must say, I agree.

—Bennett Kogon

TY SEGALL and WHITE FENCE Joy Drag City Joy, this second joint effort between Ty Segall and White Fence’s Tim Presley, acts as a kind of parallax—it changes as you look at it. Just when the shape of the album begins to assert itself, the proverbial rug is pulled out from underneath you. Which is all to say: this album demands attention. It is not background music—it won’t allow itself to be! It’s all form and beauty. It owes a bit to the history of Roky Erickson and Syd Barrett and to the minds of the Beats.

It’s sort of on a Dadaist/absurdist bent, and is so much better for it.

By turns, Joy is sinewy and robust, agile and unpredictably creative.

Ty and Tim obliterate convention and play with definition. There are echoes of Tim’s early band Nerve Agents and Ty’s time in Traditional Fools and Epsilons, but this is an album pointing in all directions at once. This rarely gets mentioned in reviews, but the sequencing on this album is second to none.

These songs bleed into each other, picking up the threads perhaps discarded three songs ago and creating this chapter-like effect to the proceedings. The aesthetics utilized in recording this album are also remarkable. I have no idea how they mic’d the session, but it seems to this listener that each application (and placement) of instrumentation and mixing technique tells a story on this album. The crispness of the hi-hat here, the decay/static hiss of the ride cymbal there (“She is Gold”) and the arrangements are a testament to effectively putting ideas into practice. They turn classic rock on its head and challenge the parameters of punk, making this creation their own and railing at folks who want to rely on category.

—Nathan Martel 49

LIVE PHOTOS SUMMER 2018

ONLINE PHOTO EDITOR DEBI DEL GRANDE Jurassic Shark September 2018 The Lodge Room

Jo Passed August 2018 The Teragram

Stephanie Port

The Zombies September 2018 The Troubadour

The Shrine August 2018 Happy Sundays Fest

Debi Del Grande

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Debi Del Grande

ZB Images

LIVE PHOTOS

The Dirty Nil June 2018 The Moroccan Lounge

Thee Oh Sees June 2018 Zebulon

Marcos Manrique

No Parents August 2018 1720

La Luz June 2018 The Teragram

Maximilian Ho

The Melvins August 2018 The Echoplex

ZB Images

LIVE PHOTOS

Stephanie Port

Lucy Blumenfield

Marcos Manrique

Chicano Batman August 2018 Outside Lands

Steph Port Maximilian Ho

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VERY BE CAREFUL Daisy’s Beauty Salon Downtown Pijao I love L.A. for the sheer mix of cultures and backgrounds that exist in a relatively small geographic space. There are not many places in the United States where you can see music of all genres practically any night of the week. One band that I’ve appreciated for quite some time who add to this delicious melting pot of music is Very Be Careful. Playing music for over two decades with ten albums to their name, they’ve been a huge part in popularizing the traditional vallenato style (while mixing in some cumbia) of 60s and 70s Colombian music here in Los Angeles. If you’re not familiar with vallenato or cumbia music, the most basic explanation is that it’s

Colombian music with a tropical influence that you definitely can dance to. Very Be Careful makes music to get a party started, for a late night out, for a good time, and to help you forget all your sorrows—because for the moment, you feel good. The instrumental basis of this quintet is the accordion that provides the melody, the standup bass, the caja vallenata (a floor drum) as well as the guacharaca which all provides the rhythm, and the vocals that pull it all together.

Daisy’s Beauty Salon starts out with entrancing accordion before the syncopation of the rhythm section comes in and carries the song away.

The next song “El Desesperado” has a very uplifting and a soulful sound, juxtaposed with the lyrics abou a downtrodden person who comes to the conclusion that some things are not for them. The songs play with the various rhythms of the vallenato from the son and paseo, which are played in the standard 2/4 time signatures while the puya and merengue tracks that have a faster beat to them. The songs wind up and calm down throughout the course of the album, giving the listener endless opportunities to dance. It’s no comparison to their truly legendary live show, but it’ll do nicely in the meantime.

—Zachary Jensen

WATER SLICE self-titled EP self-released Water Slice is Patrick Phillips, who moved to L.A. a few years ago to escape his increasingly comfortable life in Portland, Oregon, and seek out new horizons both literally and artistically. On the rooftop of an artists’ house in Echo Park, he found both. And at six tracks and 22 minutes long, his self-titled debut EP is the perfect length—it establishes his sweetly effervescent sound, but doesn’t overstay its welcome. At times, this Water Slice EP finds Phillips experimenting with falsetto vocals and lite funk (“This Way”), and other times, he engages in a bit of pastel ‘80sflavored pop (“T Walton”) that sounds like the Smiths embracing synthesizers. But mostly, he works

within the parameters of jangling indie-pop, like Real Estate if they had a little more spring in their step. Highlights include the gleaming keys and lush harmonies of the “Jack Parsons”—named after an extremely L.A.-ish historical figure—the post-punk pace and shimmering guitars of “Culpability,” and the punchy “Write Back,” with its instantly likable melody in the chorus.

Then, before you have a chance to feel queasy from too much pale sunshine or sugary melancholy, Water Slice is done. Unless, that is, you can’t resist hitting “play” and starting it all over again.

—Ben Salmon

ZACKEY FORCE FUNK Bodyrock Shotgun Mofunk

Zackey Force Funk rarely needs to raise his voice much higher than a whisper to assert that he is the realest on record. He wastes no time reminding us of his mantra “Don’t fake the funk,” kicking off Bodyrock Shotgun with the title track and firing up the party from there. Part time lovers, cocaine, gangsters on the run, the unending quest for satisfaction—each salacious situation throbs with modern funkiness. Producers I,Ced, XL Middleton, Boy Dude, Brian Ellis, and others from the Mofunk Records orbit prepared only the sleekest of neon grooves for Zackey to slide through and slip within. Themes of drug addiction and violence are balanced with moments of celebration and desire. On the addictive high water mark “D.O.A.,” he recounts a seduction as a “gangster fairy tale” over a urgent dance groove.

The album is carefully sequenced and fitted together in the kind of rhythmically satisfying way that only a boss DJ could pull off so precisely, and with “Get The Gun” he closes out with a final reprise of his mantra: “Please don’t fake the funk.” It’s like a legendary gangster monk returning to his most trusted truth.

—Christina Gubala

curated by tom child

JOHN TOTTENHAM

LILAH ASH @lila__ash

COMICS

DAVE VAN PATTEN

OHARA HALE COMICS

EMILY TSENG @emily.tseng

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along for the ride Interview by Tom child illustration by bijou karman Along For The Ride is a documentary about Dennis Hopper, but it’s just as much about someone else: the engimatic Satya De La Manitou, who met Hopper on the commune from Easy Rider—he was part of the commune!—and who spent the next forty years of his life as Hopper’s right-hand man. Think of him as not just a witness to but a part of film history, or think of him as director Nick Ebeling does: a psychedelic Sancho Panza. (Or think of him as Ebeling’s many interview subjects obviously do: an old friend.) With Satya as guide, interviewer, narrator and wit, Along For The Ride follows Hopper from his just-post-Easy Rider career heights to his unjustly doomed-toobscurity passion project The Last Movie, and through the decades after that saw him fight against everyone and everything—including himself, sometimes—on his way back to making films. Hat And Beard Press will be releasing Along For The Ride with a companion book shortly, and it’s an intimate and charismatic documentary, dedicated like Satya to the integrity and vision of its subject.

Who was Satya De La Manitou and how did you find him?

Nick Ebeling (director): Satya De La Manitou is kind of a mystery man, and he was Hopper’s right hand man from The Last Movie in 1970 all the way to Dennis’ death in 2010. They had met when Satya was on the commune when they were shooting Easy Rider in 67 and Satya was a part of that. That was the first time they crossed paths. When Dennis moved to Taos, Satya went to work for him when he got there permanently during post production of The Last Movie. The way I met Satya was … it was about four years ago but the story for me goes way back. I think it was about 1994, around around the time of True Romance. I was an actor. Or I was trying to be an actor, I should say, and I was a not-sogood actor. But I grew up in Hollywood with parents who were on the periphery of the industry and so I had a chance to see these really cool movies, really before most people get to the see them. I saw Blue Velvet when I was about five years old, if that gives you any idea. Might be a little early but Dennis would have liked that. They exposed me to all kinds of things. I saw that film and later—when I went back de-traumatized from it, years later when I was trying to be an actor—that was one of the movies that really stood out to me.

That was really the movie that got me into understanding who Dennis was, essentially, and I was learning about acting [from] those type of films like David Lynch’s, Bad Lieutenant and all these great edgy dark films that were happening in the 80s and early 90s. When I saw Hopper, I was at that very good age when you’re learning about smoking cigarettes and records and getting into really cool movies.

My parents had taken me to a racetrack in Pasadena called Santa Anita and we were walking into this place called the Chandelier Room. It’s this old bar and it was built, I think, in the 30s so it’s a remnant of old Hollywood.

Like a great Raymond Chandler-type place to be. My parents were off watching the horses and Hopper was standing there smoking a cigar in the center of the room. I was like, ‘This is Dennis Hopper. I’ve got to work up the courage to go talk to Frank Booth.’ So I did and Dennis, he gave me a minute, you FILM

know? That was incredible. Because of that, when I got back, I got on the bus—this is predriving days—and I went to this great video store, which is no longer there, but which you may know if you’ve been in Los Angeles for a while. Rocket Video. I asked, ‘Do you have any other Dennis Hopper movies?’ I didn’t know he was a director. I didn’t know he had directed Easy Rider. I didn’t even know Easy Rider except for cultural references and other movies like making fun of the idea, like Albert Brooks in Lost in America or something. I found this obscure beat-up VHS tape and it was The Last Movie. I picked that up and I watched this amazing deconstructed look at Hollywood and Hollywood’s impact on culture and it paralleled so many great things that were happening in my life that it became this gateway drug, in a sense, like a good band can be a gateway into other music. For me, it wasn’t a Steven Spielberg movie like so many people in film school. It was The Last Movie! And that movie didn’t go back to Rocket Video. The delinquent charges from taking that movie were still on my credit report seven years ago and I had to pay them off. The Last Movie got me to look at things differently and after seeing that film I knew I didn’t want to act. I pretty much quit because I was auditioning for... You know, I had seen Bad Lieutenant. I wanted to be in stuff like that but there weren’t parts for 14year-old kids in stuff like that. It was Saved By the Bell. So I picked up a Super 8, then I got a 16—a still camera—and I got into art and I got myself into art school and really it’s all because of that meeting with Dennis. So fast forward to about 2009. I was in a place where I was trying to figure out what to do with my career and I had written some scripts and directed some music videos. I had done some commercial work and I was looking for, ‘OK, what am I really here to do?’ Getting back in touch with the original reason that I started doing this can get lost in the film business. I was thinking about The Last Movie a lot and I was talking to a producer named Nina Yang Bongiovi who did a movie called Fruitvale Station—but she hadn’t done that film yet— and we were thinking about working together.

She asked, ‘Well, what do you really want to

do?’ ‘Well, there’s this movie and I can’t find anybody who’s seen it. A lot of people are very opinionated about it, but nobody’s seen it, and I think it’s brilliant and it was directed by Dennis Hopper.’ ‘Oh, well, Dennis gave me my start in the business. We were on a movie together for like six months and I love him.’

Not romantically—but he had that effect on people and that’s where she started. So she goes, ‘OK, let’s try to set something up. We should bring you guys together and maybe we can just have a talk about this.’ Well, Dennis was very ill with cancer at the time. I didn’t know. I wasn’t an insider or in his inner circle and he passed away, so sadly that meeting never got to happen. So let’s move even more forward. About four years ago, I’m doing my thing, she’s doing her thing and she gives me a call and says, ‘Dennis’ right hand man just called me. I think you need to meet.’ I set up that meeting in, like, an eighth of a second.

He picked out Musso and Franks’ so we were all there together. He had a seafood salad, I had a cup of coffee, and he started giving me the greatest hits of Dennis Hopper. ‘Dennis Hopper made Easy Rider and it changed Hollywood. And then he was in Speed.’ I was, like, ‘Wait a second, that’s a lot of fucking time.’

So I started talking about The Last Movie and he was shocked. He said, ‘You’re one of the very few people who has ever asked me about this. Whenever I’ve been in a Hollywood meeting about anything about Dennis, it’s never gone there. Unless you were part of The Last Movie like I was. That’s the reason I worked for Dennis for four years. Seeing that movie in a rough cut in Taos, New Mexico.

That’s what kept me there.’ You know, Satya is almost like this psychedelic Sancho Panza to Dennis Hopper. His right-hand man. He’s Billy and Dennis is Captain America in this story. That was our bond. I said, ‘Hey, you know, meeting Dennis… I found The Last Movie, I stopped acting and I picked up a camera.’ We understood each other. I went to work the next week. I borrowed every dollar, took everything I had, and called in every favor I had left and we started shooting a week later. That was the genesis. It was a three-anda-half year adventure together. It a road movie in itself.

So the documentary’s story starts with Dennis Hopper as he’s just finished Easy Rider. He’s the hottest director in Hollywood, he gets a million dollars to do anything he wants so he makes The Last Movie which obviously is nowhere near is as famous as Easy Rider. What is The Last Movie and why is it so unknown?

The Last Movie was Hoppers’ passion project.

He had this idea way before Easy Rider. In fact, he made Easy Rider because it was a chance to direct a film but he really wanted to make The Last Movie. The Last Movie goes all the way back to the late 50s. Dennis Hopper’s in an art gallery and he sees a film called A Movie by a great fine artist named Bruce Connor, an experimental filmmaker. He’s part of this incredible art movement which includes Dennis’ fine art and photography, Ed Ruscha, Baldessari, George Herms, the actor Dean Stockwell, the actor Russ Tamblyn. It’s a great gang of West Coast beatniks that started turning things around for the rest of us. So he sees his film, which is this deconstructed approach, and he loves Bruce Connors’ editing style. It’s a dissection of ‘What is a film? What does it really mean?’

That had a big influence on him. Then around the same time Hopper was in a film called The Sons of Katie Elder and they were shooting down in Durango, Mexico, and there was a stuntman who was a part of the production— because they went down and they built a bunch of set—and the natives were down there living around them and Hollywood came down and invaded, built this place and then left it behind. Anyway, this stuntman ...

I believe his name was Whitey and I’m forgetting his last name, but he stayed there.

What he wanted to do was bring other productions from Hollywood down and then he could be the coordinator for everybody on this great set that a studio had paid a lot of money to build. So it was ready to go. He became the point man down there and the story I’ve been told is that he was murdered by the locals. Hopper was fascinated by that story and he was fascinated by what Hollywood was doing to other cultures—not just a movie production coming down somewhere but also what were Hollywood films doing to people 55

all over the world? He enlisted Stewart Stern who was the writer of Rebel Without a Cause and who was a very old friend of his from back in his days working with James Dean at Warner Brothers. James Dean was Hopper’s acting mentor—not a lot of people know that. James Dean also bought Dennis Hopper’s first camera, which was a Leica, and encouraged him to work on fine art. That’s what Dean was on the road to doing at that time. So Hopper brought in Stewart Stern to help him pen this and they put it together and they tried to get it made and they couldn’t get the money. I think Phil Spector was going to give him the money at some point. That’s what Dennis’ brother told me. Then this film Easy Rider came around, which was this little biker movie for $300,000 that kind of changed everything. Like, culturally, financially, it opened the door for so many other filmmakers. BBS … I don’t know if you’re familiar with that [BBS was the daring production company that made Easy Rider and more—ed.] but that movie basically is the reason you get Bogdanovich and Bob Rafelson, Monte Hellman, a whole slew. So what happened next was that Universal wanted to create their own version of BBS and they wanted Dennis to capitalize on that that thing that was happening that they didn’t have their finger on the pulse of—that youth counterculture whatever-you-want-to-call-it.

They figured that they would mirror what BBS was doing but they would give filmmakers a million dollars and final cut—starting with Dennis. The mythology of this movie is that a million dollars was a lot of money to make a movie. Like sometimes people go, ‘It’s the Heaven’s Gate of the early 70s.’ No, not actually. Heaven’s Gate cost a hell of a lot more money. It put a studio out of business! The Last Movie was considered very, very low budget for the studio. I think a million dollars was the lowest budget that they were granting at that time within Universal. They were making movies like Airport, you know? Like Doris Day movies, musicals—but they put this little unit together to try to champion this idea of what Easy Rider had done. Dennis signed on with the idea he’d get a million dollars and do whatever he wanted. What happens is Dennis goes down to Peru and makes the film he wants to make. I think they went to Peru because there were censors in Mexico so if you shot down in Durango the government could censor your film. Of course, Dennis wasn’t fucking having any of that so he went location scouting and they found this beautiful village in the mountains of Peru, not too far from Machu Picchu, called Chinchero, which is about 13,000 feet up so the air is really thin. I’ve been there and I don’t know how they shot a movie. It’s a testament to the talent of these people. I think they spent about three months out there and he comes back and takes everything to Taos, New Mexico. He buys this house called the Mabel Dodge Luhan house, which was an artist’s retreat from the early 1900s that was falling apart. He bought that place and preserved it and saved it. The place is incredible. Like … D.H. Lawrence painted the bathroom there. That great eye that you always hear about Dennis recognizing things 56

or people? Well, he was one of the first people like that in Taos and he spent his Easy Rider money buying and restoring that place. And he bought himself a movie theater called The El Cortez, which is a great old adobe movie house from, I think, the 30s. And he brought his whole team up there to start editing and they started letting Universal see the cuts.

They didn’t really like what Hopper was doing or where he was going. And he was like, ‘Well, I have final cut. This is what you promised me.’ So it got extremely contentious. And it’s 1971. In the late 60s and early 70s this old guard from Hollywood … you know, these are guys that had been working in the 40s, and they were battling this new regime of what they saw as freaks. And Hopper is in this totally exploratory self-destructive artist mode.

There was a lot of cocaine, there was a lot of acid, marijuana—everything these people didn’t want their daughters corrupted by. And Hopper is an iconoclast so he’s not going to recut his movie and he’s fighting them. He goes to the Venice Film Festival and he wins the only award given that year, called CIDALC. Fellini was on the jury. De Sica was on the jury. Passolini was on the jury that year.

He comes back to Hollywood and they say, ‘Oh, you must have paid for that award. Recut the move.’ So long story longer, he locks the head of Universal—which nobody would tell me on camera—in an elevator. Lew Wasserman. Probably the most powerful man in Hollywood that time. I mean, there’s a book about him called The Last Mogul. A major, major, major guy. Hopper locks him in an elevator and tells him to go fuck himself and Ned Tanen, who was notoriously difficult with a lot of filmmakers … I don’t know if you know the lore of Ned Tanen but Danny Selznick, who is in our film, was trying to walk the line and get Dennis through. He was a great, great guy—he helped Bogdanovich and he also helped George Lucas because Ned Tanen wanted to shelve American Graffiti because he said it wasn’t even good enough to be a television movie. You know Robert Zemeckis? Biff Tannen in Back to the Future is his ‘fuck you’ to Ned Tanen. I kind of love that Dennis told them to go fuck themselves.

He was at the height of his fame and he’s a real artist—he’s the real thing. He doesn’t get a lot of credit for that. I’d be talking to so many people about Easy Rider, which is a very experimental road movie. The acid sequence, to me, is better than the best Stan Brakhage movie. But people don’t give Dennis any credit as a filmmaker and that’s a little fucked up to me because he is very special. So that’s the lore of The Last Movie. Basically, the calls went out on Hopper. ‘You’ll never work in this town again.’ TThat drove him deeper into his demons at the time and that’s where Satya’s really left with him—one of the only people around the film world who was still fighting for him and watching out for him and working for him daily even without any money being paid to him. I mean, that is a real rarity in a town like Hollywood, where I come from.

How much did the studio understand about Dennis Hopper before starting The Last Movie? Did the studios know how headstrong he was?

They had an awareness that he was a rebel

because Hopper had gotten blacklisted before that. When he was over at Warner Brothers in the 50s—around the time he was in Giant—he had told another studio head to go fuck himself. He told the director to go fuck himself. He learned a lot of that from James Dean. James Dean did that to all the executives and Elia Kazan during East of Eden.

He put his middle finger up in the air. ‘Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, I’m doing this.’ These guys were tremendous explorers and Dean got away with it a little better than Dennis. Hopper had to work in television in the late 50s. That’s why he’s in The Twilight Zone. He’s on Petticoat Junction or The Beverly Hillbillies. Weird credits. He decided when he got blacklisted the second time that he was not going to do television. That’s why there’s no Colombo episodes with Dennis Hopper as a guest star in the 1970s. He was on a mission.

‘I’m going to direct again and figure this out.’

My initial introduction to Dennis Hopper was from Speed. I was probably in middle school when it came out and I found him such a magnetic presence. From that I went looking more into him and realized what a crazy and long career he’d had already.

It’s like that for a lot of people from our generation. Then you start peeling back these layers and you’re, like, ‘Oh my God!’ Like, his photos? These are some of the best photos in the 1960s. He did an art installation at Bilbao!

There’s almost nobody like him.

Do you think Hopper was surprised by the rejection by the studio? Or do you think part of him kind of knew that it was going to be this contentious? Do you think he was crestfallen when it was not received well?

It’s like Rashomon. There’s three sides to every story. But there’s a thing in L.M. Kit Carson and Lawrence Schiller’s film The American Dreamer, which we use a little bit of in the movie—it’s that footage of Dennis in Taos editing his movie and shooting guns—where he says something like, ‘God, I may just become Orson Welles at the end of this. Poor bastard.’ I think he knew what he wanted to do and he knew there was resistance. I just watched Easy Rider again in a screening and, God, there is so much of what we’re still dealing with now. That still resonates. Especially what Jack Nicholson is talking about at the campfire, and the ending, and it’s just quite remarkable. I think about how that middle finger went up to the establishment—I guess that’s the word they use—as a fuck you to a lot of conventions that were part of America at the time. The Last Movie was a ‘fuck you’ to Hollywood. There’s a great quote with Dennis I found where he said what he was doing with The Last Movie was using film as paint, like Jackson Pollock. Film is not film—film is paint, you know? I’ve always loved that idea of exploring this medium. Let’s deconstruct it and play with it and take a look at it. He was severely ahead of his time.

Satya at one point talks about how righthand men and women are a vital part of culture because they keep the engine running. Do you think that’s how it really works? Do certain creative people need people like Satya to reach their potential?

What what do you think Hopper’s life would have been like without him?

Quite a few people pulled me aside privately and told me he would have never made it out of the 1970s alive. He was on that trajectory.

Without Satya there … because he really cared and he recognized Dennis’ genius even in the darkest hours… You see Satya in The American Friend. He’s in the film, you know?

And you look at that performance of Dennis in The American Friend and it’s one of the best Dennis Hopper performances of all time. I think Satya had a major, major hand in that even though he never would really even want to admit it—[he was] keeping Dennis on the path. One more thing I should add—the thing in the end of the film which perfectly sums it up because I was born and bred in this town and I know what he’s talking about—the difference between Satya De La Manitou and most of the assistants is most of the assistants are just there for a couple of years and they do their thing and they’re looking to become a producer or something else. Satya dedicated his life to watching out for Dennis. That’s the difference with Satya De La Manitou.

Someone in your film mentions that Hopper suffered from a disease called selfdestruction—where did that come from?

It’s rare for people to have a real point of view in Hollywood. It is very prevalent for them to have it in the fine art world. So many people are willing to concede just to be a part of that circle in Hollywood. For Dennis, it was about what he was putting out, what he was creating. The Last Movie, he felt, was his best piece of work that he was going to leave the world. He was more proud of that award he won at CIDALC than he was of Easy Rider or the award from Cannes or any of the other films he was part of. The Last Movie was the culmination of all of those aspects of him.

This is what I was told later by people who were part of the circle.

Symbolically, there’s an idea in your film that I think in some ways defines it.

Satya saysThe Last Movie is about how Hollywood goes to places and does what it does. And when it leaves, it leaves the ghost behind and that ghost is a destructive force, and that’s literalized in the movie. But in some ways it seems to be part of Hopper’s life too, in the way that the ghost of The Last Movie lingered in his life long after the film was finished. Do you think it was a destructive force for him in the same way?

Yeah—but you know what? He kept his integrity through that period and he landed so perfectly when he got to Blue Velvet. It’s like the culmination of all that. The reason we’re still talking about him is because of that.

Maybe it was the right path because now you look at him and it’s this very prolific career.

Of course, you know, the 90s got a little ‘cash out’ and spotty but hey, I always think, ‘You paid your dues, man. Enjoy it now. Go buy Basquiats before anyone knows what they are.’

But he was never able to rectify that thing— that ghost you’re talking about. Satya brought it up too. He showed The Last Movie, you know. Dennis would take it around and show it at art houses and talk about it, but it never got its its proper due. Hopefully we’ve helped a little bit to get some awareness there.

At the beginning of your film, Satya mentions the quote from Tolstoy that art FILM

is the effective transmission of experience.

Would Hopper have agreed with that? What kind of experiences was he attempting to transmit? What experience are you transmitting with your film?

I think Along for the Ride definitely reflects that quote. I even love the line where Satya says Dennis was like a gem and a gem needs to be polished in order to achieve its true brilliance. I think that that’s true with a lot of artists. I think it’s that road you walk.

It makes you wonder how many other people out there haven’t had someone like Satya in their life and have ended up just completely imploding?

And ended up in complete obscurity. There’s a lot of people on that trail as you go back.

Lots of incredibly brilliant people across film, music, art … I mean, it goes with the territory.

This is the first of the books on Hopper that Hat and Beard are doing. What’s in this book, and what’s going to be coming in the next books?

We’re really interested in Out of the Blue and helping that film get saved and preserved and doing a comprehensive look at Out of the Blue.

Then there’s a book that Dennis did when he got sober called Out of the 60s. It’s a photo book and he did it on a small press, edited it and put it together. It’s that first pass of him looking at that work all those years later. I think the photos are all from between ‘63 and ‘67. It’s an incredible photo book and I had never seen it until we were making the film and it’s really hard to get. He didn’t make a lot of them. It would be incredible to put that first book back for Dennis out again so that people can actually get their hands on it.

Was there anything that you wanted you weren’t able to find? Anything totally lost to history that Satya was looking for and couldn’t find?

Yes, yes and yes. There were tons of things that we were trying to find. ‘Do you think you have that jacket from The Last Movie? Do you think you have that cowboy hat?’ Satya kept everything. He’s like a pack rat—he just held on to stuff. I don’t even know if he thought it would be important when he just grabbed it and put it in boxes. None of it was marked so you’d go through the boxes and you’d find, like, a lot pass from Columbia Pictures for Easy Rider and in the same box you’d find notes to Terry Southern in 1976 from a hotel.

So many things in the film were unearthed in Satya’s own storage unit that have never been seen before. The thing I would have loved to include which we weren’t able to was that Dennis, Terry Southern and William Burroughs tried to get Junkie—Burroughs’ famous novel about heroin—made in 76. It was being recognized by a guy named Henri Langlois in Paris as an interesting film and … they tried, you know? It’s so dark to me. This guy makes Easy Rider than makes this other film and gets into this battle with the studio and then there’s nothing. Nothing until you get to Out of the Blue. The testament to Dennis’ talent, I think, is that Out of the Blue started as .. Do you know about Out of the Blue with Linda Manz from Days of Heaven?

I’ve not seen it. I’m actually more familiar with the time Dennis Hopper blew himself up with dynamite to promote it.

FILM

It’s another one of these movies like The Last Movie that’s really tough to see in this country. Out of the Blue was made somewhere around 1980 and it was a television movie that Dennis was drafted in by Paul Lewis who produced Easy Rider and The Last Movie. It was just a job, right? And Dennis needed work so he came up. The director wasn’t working out and Dennis took over.

He rewrote that script and put it together and that movie premiered at Cannes and stopped being a TV movie once he took over.

That film influenced Harmony Korine and Chloe Sevigny, Richard Linklater—who was actually at Rice when the Russian Dynamite Chair happened. That was one of Dennis’ really great ideas to get promotion for Out of the Blue. To blow himself up with this rodeo trick. I’ll give you the back story. Dennis was in full excess mode at that point and he did a screening at Rice University of Out of the Blue for college students because he figured a college tour would help get some awareness of this picture here in the states. It got some very good reviews by some reviewers on the east coast and in L.A. but it was having trouble getting distributed. What he did was a super experimental Q&A where he sat in a different room and had video projections done after the film and then he took everybody out to this racetrack. He had seen these rodeo tricks when he was a kid where people would surround themselves with dynamite and blow themselves up as, like, an attraction, alright?

If it’s set up the right way it creates a vacuum in the center where you are. So you won’t die, right? But if one little thing is off, it’s over.

You’re fucking dead. He had a stunt guy set it up for him. I mean, it’s a crazy horrible idea.

He thought, I think, that it would help get press for this film that he was so passionate about that he had just made that premiered at Cannes and Jack Nicholson thought it was brilliant. So did Warren Beatty. They were there with Reds and they were trying to help him with it and he just couldn’t get any traction. I think it was 82 that he blew himself up. Shortly after that, like in the movie, Satya had to take him to get help. ‘Dennis, you’re not Houdini,’ as Satya pointed out.

There are so many stories about people’s adventures with Hopper and I’m wondering if there’s one that just barely didn’t make the cut.

Oh man, it was like wrist cutting. Luckily in the book we have, like, 25 of those great stories and [we’ve] gone back to some photographers who couldn’t speak in a film. There’s a really great thing with Danny Trejo who became friends with Dennis in Venice Beach in the early 80s.They got sober together. It’s before Danny was even really an actor and they got really tight and Dennis talked to Danny about acting at that time when they were cleaning up. There’s this Wim Wenders movie that not many people know about. It was produced by Jeremy Thomas who did a great film called Sexy Beast that you may know. But he started with Dennis. His first movie was Mad Dog Morgan and that was Satya and Dennis’ last performance in a major motion picture together. Satya was assisting and had a very small cameo. Anyway, they were making that film and Satya was near the town where his grandfather had come from. They were in

Palermo at the time and he really wanted to see his family’s hometown and you know … when you work for Dennis, you’re working for Dennis, you know? It was a lot of, like, ‘I’m doing what you want to do’ kind of stuff.

I guess Satya was just bugging him to go see it with with him and Dennis was like, ‘No, man, no. It’s too early, we got to leave, I’m gonna sleep late.’ So Satya starts banging on his door, right? Satya is this fucking dynamic force. There’s a reason he worked for Dennis.

You get a feel for it with him. J.C. from Hat and Beard calls him a hippie drifter. He’s very smart and a very cool dude. So he, like, conned the front desk guy to let him in the room. He tip-toed in the room—and this may become a bonus feature when we do the special extended version that they’ve asked us to do—and he convinces Dennis to go with him and Dennis says, ‘Okay, we’re turning the car around if it starts raining and we’re going back to the hotel.’ They go out to the car and Dennis brings his Leica with him because he had started shooting pictures again. Satya had ingratiated himself with the driver, stuffed a bunch of money in his pocket and said, ‘If Dennis says anything to you about turning the car around, just say you don’t speak English.’ So it starts raining, right?

And the guy’s just like, ‘No capisce!’ And he drives them all the way to the town and Satya gets to see where his grandfather came from.

It meant a lot to him. They see this flock of sheep walking and the sun breaks through like one of those Hollywood moments and they see a black sheep right in the middle and Hopper goes, ‘That’s you, Satya’ and took a photo. That photo is on the wall of his house and every one of his family members’ houses and you know … it was like that moment of the celebrity saying, ‘We’re buddies.’

That’s an incredible story. The film ends with you taking Satya to Peru to see where The Last Movie was filmed, the movie that changed Hopper’s life and Satya’s life and yours. What was that like for both of you?

For Satya, it was confronting something because he had the opportunity to go to The Last Movie [filming] and didn’t. I always said, ‘Hey, we’re going to Peru. We’re going to Chinchero.’ And he was like, ‘Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever.’ Most documentaries are not like this. It’s talking heads/cut to footage/ reenactment/whatever, you know? Luckily for Satya, I love movies like Don’t Look Back— things that go in a different way. I was able to convince a few more buddies to give me their airline miles, sold a few records out of my already dwindling great record collection, most of which is totally gone now… but don’t feel too sorry for me! Because as it got going, more people were, like, ‘OK, we see what you’re doing and we’re going to help you.’ It isn’t the kind of story where anybody wrote us a blank check. It was very, very little but we made it happen. We got this skeleton crew.

There were three of us and Satya and we got there not knowing what to expect. The first person I met when we got out of that minivan in Chinchero was Dennis’ guide, who’s in The Last Movie. His name was Tomas. Call it cosmic or whatever. There was a lot of crazy shit that happened. He brought us into his home with his wife and children and they had this little shop and we start looking around

and I asked if he had any of those Last Movie ponchos. And he had his granddaughter go back to the house and they brought out The Last Movie ponchos and gave them to us.

Then he took us on a walk down the Aztec highway to where the waterfall sequence in The Last Movie was shot, which was incredible.

It’ll probably be a bonus feature because it was a piece that we had to cut. That spirit started hitting us and I stopped approaching everything like we had approached it before.

I was inspired by Dennis’ photographs and I wanted to properly light these people who I thought were amazing and give them respect and Satya’s leading the journey. He’s the spine of everything. We got up there and you could barely breathe and nobody wanted to talk to each other and I looked around at this great, incredible town square in Chinchero at 13,000 feet where they shot my favorite movie of all time. My favorite shot in cinema history is Hopper riding into that square right into Sam Fuller, which you’ll see when you see the film. I love it. László Kovács shot it—one of my favorite cinematographers of all time.

And we’re standing there, right? Not much has changed in 45 years. I don’t think much has changed in 200 years. We all looked at each other like, ‘OK, OK, let’s go to work.’

We started plotting it out. And as we started shooting, things started happening. Thunder.

The light moved. We shot all of it in sequence and a funeral procession came past us that we didn’t know was going to come past us, just like in The Last Movie. We walked out to that spot, that haunting photo where Dennis is looking out at the mountain with the clouds and the bamboo camera. We were doing very little talking, very telepathic. We all kind of went there and I’m very proud. That to me is my proudest moment as an artist—what we did there.

What do you hope the book and the documentary will do for Hopper’s legacy?

It’s to recognize the many sides of him and to not dismiss him as a lot of people dismiss him and that period of him as … a hippie fuck up, to be really frank. I think The Last Movie is incredible. That film changed my life. I think Easy Rider is an incredible film as well. As we got deeper through it, I’ve never seen anybody else like him. He’s just totally unique. Meeting Hopper for that brief amount of time in 1994 altered my life. When I met Satya, I was jaded. I was really considering hanging it up and doing anything else. I was tired of this whole fucking place but meeting Satya … he fucking woke me up again and I got to go on this journey with him and meet all these incredible people and I made a film that I’m very much proud of and he’s very much proud of. Both those guys—Satya De La Manitou and Hopper—bookended me, creatively. I’m very thankful for that.

ALONG FOR THE RIDE SCREENING PLUS Q&A WITH NICK EBELING, SATYA DE LA MINITOU AND MORE ON WED., SEPT. 26, AT THE REGENT THEATER, 448 S. MAIN ST., DOWNTOWN. 7 PM / $15 / 18+.

SPACELANDPRESENTS.COM. ALONG FOR THE RIDE BOOK WITH FILM DOWNLOAD COMING SOON FROM HAT AND BEARD PRESS. 57

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38. CHA CHA 2375 Glendale Blvd Silverlake 39. HAM AND EGGS TAVERN 433 W 8th St, DTLA 40. HYPERION TAVERN 1941 Hyperion Ave Silverlake

61. VIENTO Y AGUA 4007 E. 4th St Long Beach

RETAIL 53. AARDVARK’S 7575 Melrose Ave Melrose 54. BOOK SOUP 8818 Sunset Blvd Hollywood 55. IPSO FACTO 517 N. Harbor Blvd.

Fullerton

VENUES

41. KITSCH BAR 891 Baker St Costa Mesa

27. 4TH STREET WINE 2142 E. 4th St Long Beach

42. LITTLE JOY 1477 Sunset Blvd Echo Park

59. THE LAST BOOKSTORE 453 S Spring St, DTLA

28. ACE HOTEL 929 S Broadway, DTLA

43. LOVESONG 448 S Main St, DTLA

29. CONTINENTAL ROOM 115 W. Santa Fe Ave. Fullerton

44. REDWOOD BAR 316 W 2nd St, DTLA

60. MADE 236 Pine Ave Long Beach

30. ECHO / ECHOPLEX 1822 Sunset Blvd Echo Park 31. DEL MONTE SPEAKEASY 52 Windward Ave Venice Beach

MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS 69. BEDROCK 1623 Allesandro St. Echo Park

57. FILTH MART 1038 N. Fairfax Ave Melrose

62. PROGRAMME 2495 E. Chapman Ave Fullerton 63. STICKY RICKS 4539 E. Cesar Chavez Ave. East L.A.

45. CAVEMAN VINTAGE 3231 N. Main Lincoln Park

64. STORIES BOOKS & MUSIC 1716 Sunset Blvd Echo Park

68. THE HI HAT 5043 York Blvd Highland Park

46. FUTURE MUSIC 5112 York Blvd Highland Park

71. VIDEOTHEQUE 1020 Mission St. South Pasadena

15. PERMANENT 5116 York Blvd Highland Park

34. MOROCCAN LOUNGE 901 E. 1st St, DTLA

MOVIE THEATERS

26. PERMANENT 5323 1/2 York Blvd Highland Park

32. THE PROSPECTOR 2400 E. 7th St Long Beach

47. GILMORE MUSIC 1935 E 7th St Long Beach

16. POOBAH 2636 E Colorado Blvd Pasadena

33. THE REGENT 448 S Main St, DTLA

13. MONO RECORDS 1610 E. Colorado St. Glendale 6

18. RECORD RECYCLER 17312 Crenshaw Blvd Torrance

14. PERMANENT 1816 Sunset Blvd Echo Park

17. RECORD JUNGLE 2459 Whittier Blvd Montebello

70. RESIDENT 428 S. Hewitt St. DTLA 35. THE SMELL 247 S Main St. DTLA

48. MCCABE’S 3101 Pico Blvd Santa Monica

CAFES & RESTAURANTS 58. BRITE SPOT 1918 Sunset Blvd Echo Park

65. CINEFAMILY 611 N Fairfax Ave Los Angeles 66. THE FRIDA CINEMA 305 E 4th St Santa Ana 67. THE NUART 11272 Santa Monica Los Angeles NEW OR UPDATED FOR THIS ISSUE!

ON THE RECORD PREMIERES FROM LARECORD.COM BY CHRIS ZIEGLER ANNA LUISA “GREEN PLACE” (PRACTICAL) Endlessly imaginative L.A. artist and musician Anna Luisa previously made music under the name Jeepneys, releasing three albums and videos and more, including a single for L.A.’s Human Ear. (Also once home to Julia Holter, Nite Jewel and Ariel Pink.) But the new full-length Green is out under her own name, with an aesthetic ably showcased in the single “Green Place.” It’s a multi-layered and multi-faceted piece of electronic music that’s arguably the conceptual heart of Green, itself a complicated and considered piece connected to Anna Luisa’s many other varied projects. Her work as a visual artist—with its waves of searing color just about to break frame—naturally overlaps with the way her music sounds. But Green builds on reincarnations of soundtracks she’s made as it reveals its overarching idea of a redemptive kind of paradise where rest itself is the reward. (Out now)

THE ASTEROID SHOP “SHE MOVES” (SELF-RELEASED) Under-the-radar locals the Asteroid Shop are too nicely noisy to escape notice for too long, and they recorded this statement track at the storied Station House with Mark Rains and his famously adorable dog. (Name-checked on the new Death Valley Girls album, maybe?) “She Moves” is extremely Loop-y, all bleeding feedback and pulsing Stoogesfirst-album-style rhythm, and makes quite a promise for their future. (Out now)

BIG DEBBIE “MOUTH WIDE OPEN (YOUR EYES)” (F. TERROR APART) (RATSKIN) Big Debbie was introduced to—and inspired by—forbidden pop music by a father who doubled as a Soviet navy officer and a media smuggler, and then spent a decade clawing at the limits of punk and noise music in San Francisco before relocating to L.A. and preparing for the vinyl release of the crushing AB RA CA DEB RA full-length. “Mouth Wide Open” starts the album with seething distortion and skullcracking drums—it’s a post-asteroid-impact Mad Max-style child of Flipper, Chrome and Suicide at their most incite-ful. (This, notes Debbie, is one of the “upbeat” tracks.) (Out Oct. 10)

BRUTUS VIII “JAPANESE CANDY” (DANGER COLLECTIVE) 61

Brutus VIII is Jackson Katz from Slow Hollows making a solo turn toward the dark—or at the dark blues and greys of a city emptied at night—and debut A Hackney Pursuit is due soon from Danger Collective. The sharp and even stark video for his “Japanese Candy” is deftly directed

by Nicholas Rattigan (Surf Curse, Current Joys) whose distinctive work we featured earlier this year. It’s a refreshingly direct visual counterpart to a song balanced uneasily between beauty and desolation. Scott Walker comparisons are right on, despite (or because of?) the pop-adjacent production, but there’s a bit of Suicide’s analog/mechanical isolation, too. (Out fall 2018)

BUNDY “HONEYDEW” (SELF-RELEASED) Long Beach band Bundy put out their full-length Bastard Performer in January, but this new non-album single (and new video) is a heartrending cover of the already heartrending “Honeydew” by fellow Long Beach musician Rachel Rufrano. A painterly video by the Psychic Wave adds depth and power to Bundy’s deep and soulful reading of the song, and underscores “Honeydew”’s built-in bittersweet feeling. Somehow the sunshine, flowers and smiles here make it sadder, not softer. (Out now)

BUS “BUG-EYED FREAK” (SELF-RELEASED) New L.A. trio Bus (Ken Arimura on guitar, Oliver Strouse on drums and Ned Vogel on bass/vocals) drop off this new track that’s part right-now Oh Sees/Ty Segall garagepunk and part back-then Black Flag riffs and smash-and-grab Urinals energy—time to bug out? Well, that’s kind of what the title suggests, isn’t it? (Out now)

THE CHAVEZ RAVINE “BERMUDA TRIANGLE” (DANGERBIRD) The Chavez Ravine—named of course after an infamous part of L.A. history—is Phil Guerrero on drums, Mando Lopez on bass and Manny Nieto on guitar and vocals, and between them they have a significant discography dating back to the 90s. And of course Nieto is a storied L.A. studio engineer (now at Suplex Audio) who’s worked with Health, the Breeders, Tweak Bird, Traps PS and much more. They might describe themselves as Devo meets the Wipers, but “Bermuda Triangle” has a maxed-out Psychocandy-style love-song-gone-wrong feel. (Out now)

CORBO “LOST 4 WORDS” (CHEWING FOIL) Previous L.A. RECORD featuree/producer/ multitalent corbo is back—back from an alternate future that never quite happened, really, and he’s got a song-slash-artifact to prove it. “lost 4 words” (from his recent Love & Productivity album) is a choppedand-vaporized pop track where you can practically hear the pixels collide, and if that’s not enough, you can submerge yourself in the pixeldelicized video by lawnmower man Paul Plastic, who delivers a shot of VGA adrenalin direct to the optic nerve. Best experienced in total darkness while floating in nonphysical virtual space, if possible.

(Out now)

DANG CLETS “SKIP” (SELF-RELEASED) L.A. quartet Dang Clēts’ (formerly Waldo) new single “Skip” is a just-off-center AOR indie-pop song that’s less about the sunshine and more about the haze that burns off in the morning. It’s got welcome personality and subtle-but-knowing production tricks that make sure the weird moments are the winning moments. (Out now)

DEV RAY “CAN’T HIDE” (DANGERBIRD)

Away” is a moody and understated 60sdescended song that comes off like one of those down-but-not-out early Stones ballads and ends on a nice neat break—why fade out when you can cut right to black? An extremely complementary video was directed (in kaleidoscopic shades of grey) by Richard G. Auxilio and Roberto Delgado, and this song and more will be on Dream Phases’ coming Clear Skies full-length, hitting vinyl/ cassette later this fall on top-notch local label Nomad Eel. (Out now digitally, vinyl/cass fall 2018)

EDDINGTON AGAIN “FREEDOM” (SELF-RELEASED) Eddington Again teased his new 9 in our interview in July, and we premiered the first single on 9/9—his birthday! (We posted at 9:09 to keep the concept going.) “Freedom” is one of those songs ready to transform into an anthem—it’s got a gigantic chorus, a propulsive beat and a message that’s personal as it is powerful. As Eddington sings: “I hope you will take the time to find just what you’re looking for …” (Out now)

FAWNS OF LOVE “ROCKET SCIENCE” (PART TIME PUNKS SESSIONS)

Dev Ray is a longtime local musician who’s worked with previous L.A. RECORD featurees like So Many Wizards and Tomemitsu, and his debut Dangerbird Microdose single “Can’t Hide” is a compact and potent post-punk pop song on an early Gang of Four/the Cure/Joy Division vibe.

It’s all razor rhythm section and slashing guitar—with oversaturated melting-pixel ultra-color visuals in the video by Tim Horner—until the song splits at the twominute mark and lets the atmosphere come rushing in. (Out now)

Fawns of Love put out their cover of the Chills’ “Rocket Science”—enthusiastically Chills approved, by the way—earlier this summer, and then they made a lovingly abstract analog video about flowers, sunrise and bright lights in the sky. (The brightest lights people have ever been able to make, really, possibly as also seen detonating over the skyline in the movie Threads.) The Chills’ 2017 original moves more quickly and hits a little harder, but Fawns of Love slow it down and stretch it out, and the new tempo—especially when matched with this lost-but-now-found-style footage—makes it all the more tragic. (Out now)

DISTRACTOR “NOT THE SAME” (BURGER)

FREE THE ROBOTS “NASI GORENG” (BASTARD JAZZ)

Costa Mesa pop-punk outfit Distractor— who’ve probably spent a lot of hours listening to Devo’s Freedom of Choice—made a new video for “Not The Same” from this April’s This Time I Got It Figured Out full-length on Burger, and it’s the total opposite of their last eye-popping DIY blockbuster. Instead, “Not The Same” is about a guy trying just his best to say what he needs to say, no matter what gets in the way. (Out now)

DREAM PHASES “TO WALK AWAY” (NOMAD EEL) L.A.’s Dream Phases—the engaging psych-garage project helmed by Brandon Graham—put out a charismatic single this spring, and now they’re about to release a promising full-length, too. Single “To Walk

Ferociously iconoclastic local producer Free The Robots—a.k.a. Chris Alfaro—always has something interesting on deck, and this time it’s his very own installment of Bastard Jazz’s Tempo Dreams compilation series, which is a showcase for producers (like B. Bravo, Tall Black Guy, Teeko, Pomo and Soul Clap) to present tracks they think deserve more attention. But besides putting together Tempo Dreams Vol. 5, Alfaro also knocked out some new work of his own: “Nasi Goreng” is revved-up Southeast Asianinspired funk with unflagging energy, both a standout comp track and the a-side of 45 single. (Out now)

HERBERT BAIL ORCHESTRA “HOLD YOUR OWN” (SELF-RELEASED) ON THE RECORD

It’s been quite some time since L.A.’s Herbert Bail Orchestra put new music into the world, but that’s only because band founder Anthony Frattolillo knew he didn’t want to make an album just for the sake of making an album: “I thought it was more important to get it right,” he says. “that in the long run, in a hundred years when I’m dead and gone and somebody listens to this, they’re going to hear it and say, ‘Damn, this is good. It’s thoughtful, intentional—it’s timeless.’” “Hold Your Own” is a heartfelt ballad for the downbut-not-out that links a Springsteen-style ethos to an indie Americana sound. It’s not quite like if Nebraska had an accordion, but it’s certainly something for those same dark nights of the soul. (Out Sept. 28)

HOOVERIII SELF-TITLED LP (PERMANENT) L.A. outfit Hooveriii dropped their “Guillotine” in June and now they’ve got a full-length ready that’s just as sharp. Their new self-titled album (with extremely winning art by Jesse Fillingham) is built with Neu! beats (“Bird On A Wire”) and “Rainbow In Curved Air” synth fractals (“Mercy”) and a lovely tangle of guitar chaos that finishes off “MUDD” as it finishes off the album.

But really Hooveriii is about tension, release and confident command of the riff, whether that’s riff as blunt instrument or riff as cutting instrument or riff as torch, wedge or shaped demolition charge. “Destroya” and “Turn Blue” make a nice one-two punch near the album’s center, but every song here is built for power and impact. (Out now)

JURASSIC SHARK “WINDOW” (SELF-RELEASED) Monrovia’s much-loved Jurassic Shark— who really anticipated the summer movies of 2018— “Window” is heart-on-sleeve Feeliesstyle jangle-punk done with energy and dedication. It’s a cheerfully represenative peek at their new Overflow, which is (technically) their full-length debut. (Out now)

KELLEIA “GOOD GIRL” (SELF-RELEASED Songwriter/singer/producer/dancer/DJ Kelleia has worked with Team Supreme and L.A. producer Dot‘s Unspeakable Records, and her fiercely personal and vividly political song “Good Girl” is drawn from experiences at the core of her own life.

“Good Girl”—produced by Jonny Joon—is about redefining what exactly it means to be a “good girl,” and about breaking with not just a partner but with the rigid expectations of family, culture and society. Kelleia explains in a detailed post, but the crux is this: “Writing and now releasing ‘Good Girl’ has helped me reconcile the feelings that I wasn’t good or good enough because I wasn’t who my culture/partner/family/fill-in-the-blank wanted me to be,” she says. (Out now) ON THE RECORD

KOOL CUSTOMER “NICE TOUCH” (F. SALLY GREEN) (BASTARD JAZZ) Kool Customer is L.A. producer B. Bravo and Bay Area vocalist Rojai making music for a midnight glide—a little disco, a little funk and a limitless amount of style. “Nice Touch” lights up with guest vox from Sally Green (who also helped with this 45) and glittering-chrome production. (Out now)

LELAND & THE SILVER WELLS “LUCK OF THE DRAW” (RUBIA) Polyinstrumentalist (and photographer) Leland Ettinger named part of her band and part of this song after Joan Didion, and the spirit of Didion’s White Album is hard at work on Ettinger’s “Luck of the Draw,” a farranging canyon-country pocket-epic made from light and shadow with waves of Mamas & the Papas/Wendy & Bonnie harmonies and inspiration from Great Society-style 60s West Coast psychedelia. It’s not just the sound but the way this five-minute song ebbs and flows and twists and turns and spins. If you’ve got the capabilty to play this while projecting a liquid light show on your bedroom wall, it’d probably be extremely rewarding. (Out now)

LONESOME LEASH “DRIVING” (F. MIRAH) (CRUISIN’) Lonesome Leash is the generously credited multi-instrumentalist Walt McClements, who’s performed and recorded with artists like Weyes Blood, Dark Dark Dark and Hurray for the Riff Raff. (He also just shared a bill with L.A. RECORD cover alum Eddington Again in September.) The coming Delicate Art fulllength is McClements playing and singing his own songs, albeit with contributions from a pretty-close-to-legendary set of artists. (Like recent L.A. RECORD featuree Mary Lattimore, for one.) On “Driving,” he’s joined by Mirah for a slow-burning song that’s somehow distant and intimate at the same time. With synthesizer, drum machine, and pulsing accordion, it makes for a wild and piercing echo of Henry Flynt, Bruce Haack and/or Arthur Russell and it gathers power as it moves along. Maybe that’s fitting, since the song is specifically about taking a long solo drive to nowhere. (Out Nov. 2)

M.A.D. “EVERYTHING” (SELF-RELEASED) M.A.D. is Costa Mesa musician Mario Barrios (Avid Dancer, Gantez) and who named his solo project after the concept that says only the possibility of total nuclear annihilation can lead to peace. His “Everything” is about those times when the bad and the good melt into the same exact thing, and it’s a dreamy— maybe even a fever-dreamy?—song that feels like it’s in freefall, with a guitar melody that finally enthusiastically bursts in the final moments. Turns out the ragged up-all-night

mood here is because he actually stayed up all night to record. (Out now)

THE MAY COMPANY “SO STONELY” (SELF-RELEASED) L.A./O.C. Shocking Blue-style garage psych trio the May Company made this pointedly psychedelic instructional video— directed by Daniel Lake and the band’s own May McDonough—that demonstrates scientifically what happens when you go past reefer madness all the way bubble-blowing cosmic insanity. Yes, it involves a monolith, as well as band members McDonough, Jona Wilder and Rusty Huber each taking their own mind-expanding (or mind-exploding) trip. Says McDonough: “Every parent of the 1950s’ worst nightmare.” (Out now)

NECTARINES “LIES” (SELF-RELEASED) Long Beach’s Nectarines (guitarist/vocalist Nima Kazerouni of So Many Wizards with bassist Zeynep Graves, keyboardist Jackie Yates and drummer Allie Bumsted) made this new video for their engaging February single “Lies,” in which a particularly catchy kinda break-up song turns into a scary story about bright light and empty graveyards, and about what might happen when nobody listens. Spoiler: that graveyard gets a little less empty by the end of the video. (Out now)

NIGHTMARE AIR “SIGN OF THE TIMES” (NEVADO) L.A. trio Nightmare Air make a special kind of synth-y shoegaze that seems to come from just a few minutes in the future, and their video for “Sign Of The Times” is part tour diary and part augmentedreality extradimensional visitation, set to an expansively atmospheric track with a practically endless chorus. This video was shot (of course) by the band itself, and edited

by Richard Wildeman with spinning-head related effects by Ryan Fruge. (Out now)

NYLON SMILE ANGEL OF DOUBT EP (SELF-RELEASED) Nylon Smile is Nikolas Soelter, once of the Bay Area band Never Young but now moved back home to L.A. and debuting this intricate/intimate new project. Exquisitely produced by Jay Som‘s Melina Duterte with vocals by Taylor Vick (of Boy Scouts) and piano by San Francisco songwriter Rose Droll, Angel Of Doubt is a sophisticated and imaginative set of songs, with each track offering its own particular sort of individual personality. There’s the title track’s lightly psychedelic neo-AOR, the Elliott Smithstyle smolderer “My Horse,” the tortured guitar lead on “Rinse & Release,” the classic indie “Dust” and the pitched-down negativespace ballad “Younger,” which finishes the EP like an especially portentous “ … to be continued.” (Out now)

OBJECT AS SUBJECT “POM POM MOVES” (LOST FUTURE) Paris Hurley is a longtime performer and violinist—who’s worked with Amanda Palmer, Mirah and YACHT—and OBJECT AS SUBJECT is the self-described feminist art punk outfit who deliver an explosive combination of performance art and revvedup stripped-down punk supercharged with political power. Here and on the coming PERMISSION album, Hurley (who sings, plays violin and add an extra floor tom into the beat) is reinforced by drummer/singer/ dancer Emilia Richeson (of posi aerobics outfit Pony Sweat, which also includes CJ Miller of dimber as an instructor) and a relentless rhythm section with earthquake bass by SORORITY founder and playwright/ expermental theatre artist Gina Young and drums by Patty Schemel (Hole, Upset) and Megan Fowler-Hurst, also of dance collective Tales Between Our Legs. (Corey Fogel, spotted on Julia Holter’s last LP, played drums on this recording.) Altogether, it makes for a critical mass of artistic inspiration, political righteousness, decades of experience and boundary-breaking creativity and that’s why “Pom Pom Moves” sounds so furious, wild and exciting. (Out now)

POP NOIR “WHITE JAZZ” (SELF-RELEASED) Pop Noir is brothers Luke and Joe McGarry, whom longtime L.A. RECORD readers already know—both have highly visible illustration histories in this magazine, and of course elsewhere too! But they’ve been musicians as long as they’ve been artists, and they’re back from international adventuring with the new video for their “White Jazz.”

The band considers this a bit of a sequel to their night-drive video for “Don’t Fool Yourself,” but this time our dynamic duo are on foot, winding through the neon streets of Tokyo’s Harajuku and Shibuya districts.

(Is that a Shin Godzilla cameo?) They’ve also upgunned their dance-y/post-punk-y sound with an arsenal of versatile synthesizers, and it suits them well. There’s a bit of New Order DNA in the way the rhythm, the vocals and the ambitiously stylized guitar all blur into one long streak of lightning. (Out now)

RUBY HAUNT BLUE HOUR (SELF-RELEASED) Blue Hour is an album submerged in its own softness, with even the rhythm section more a suggestion than a presence. There are elements of Radiohead (when they’re really down) and Brian Eno (also when he’s really down) as well as an overwhelming twilight feeling where nothing is completely dark, completely light or even completely there.

That’s a sensation greatly aided by Ruby Haunt’s tiptoe piano (“Non Sense”) and the under-understated vocals (“Blue Hour” and all over) and even the opening track “Sucker,” where the drums sound like rain hitting glass 61

and the synthesizer drifts in and out like deep breaths during sleep. It’s an album for staying up all night despite yourself, or maybe for finally sinking into a dream. (Out now)

SADGIRL “BREAKFAST FOR 2” (SUICIDE SQUEEZE) L.A. trio SadGirl signed to Seattle’s Suicide Squeeze earlier this summer—now labelmates with locals like L.A. WITCH, the Coathangers and Guantanamo Baywatch— and they made their label debut with the “Breakfast For 2” EP and this extremely atmospheric video. “Breakfast” the song is a reverbed slow-roll sweet-soul (with punky heart, or heartbreak) and “Breakfast” the video (by the Giraffe Sisters) is an Ed Woodmeets-Twilight Zone tale of doomed romance and forbidden science—and the true horror that happens when breakfast goes unfinished.

(Out now)

SKIN TOWN “DOWN” (TIME NO PLACE) Skin Town is the L.A. duo of producer Nick Turco (who played keys for Zola Jesus) and vocalist Grace Hall (who’s worked with Lindstrøm) and “Down” is an atmospheric and affecting R&B song floating in negative space. Or maybe falling instead of floating?

(Somehow the little melodic phrase at the end makes the mood more melancholy.) It’s the first single from their coming sophomore album Country, due out in November on Time No Place. (Out Nov. 16)

THE SMOKING TREES “HONESTLY, I WISH THAT I KNEW” (BURGER)

TE’AMIR “BLUE NILE” (TRU THOUGHTS)

Long-running L.A. psychedelic outfit the Smoking Trees recently evolved into cofounder Sir Psych‘s solo project, now that bandmate L.A. AL has moved on. But the next album is called The Adventure Continues for a reason, and Sir Psych is all set to push on into the great psychedelic unknown by himself. “Honestly” is an subtle—even contemplative—song swimming in waves of Mellotron, specifically designed to celebrate its own sense of possibility. (Out fall 2018)

Te’Amir is the highly regarded L.A. drummer and producer who toured with Aloe Blacc and who’s performed with the heaviest of the heavy hitters—Kamasi Washington, Kendrick Lamar, Kamaiyah and many more—and who’s about to release the sequel to July’s striking Abyssinia EP. First single “Blue Nile” is a dubby spacey track more than halfway to a hypnotic electronic song, built with ebband-flow tidal rhythm and a just-so sense for pacing and texture. If it went on for ten minutes, it’d only get better. (Out Oct. 19)

SUGARPLUM FAIRIES “MALTA SMILE 55” (SELF-RELEASED) Silvia Ryder is the leader of the longrunning Sugarplum Fairies, who added the new Payday Flowers to their discography in July, and “Malta Smile 55” is a T. Rex-y (especially The Slider) mid-tempo charmer with Ryder’s deadpan but charismatic vocals and unexpected George Harrison-style horns.

It’d make a good fit for moments when you’re just about finished feeling down-and-out and things are ready to start looking up. The “Smile” video was produced and directed by the Fever Family (a.k.a. visual artists Rachel and Zooey) based on their interpretation of famed children’s book author Cooper Edens’ If You’re Afraid of the Dark, Remember the Night Rainbow and especially the line: “If you’re afraid of the dark, remember the night rainbow / If there is no happy ending, make one out of cookie dough.” (Out now)

TROPA MAGICA “SOÑABAS” (SELF-RELEASED) Tropa Magica is the Pacheco brothers David and Rene (ex-Thee Commons) and they’re about to unveil their full-length debut.

Single “Soñabas” is a leap forth in a few ways, focusing and intensifying previous influences like chicha, cumbia and of course Los Saicos and their bloody-but-beautiful vocal style— but there’s also something like the Sandinista Clash happening here, too. It’s got that energetic Strummer-style joyousness where the singer is happily consumed by his song.

(Out now)

WILD WING “KILLING JOKE” (SELF-RELEASED) L.A.’s Wild Wing put out the nicely reviewed Doomed II Repeat this fall and they’re back

with “Killing Joke,” a similarly potent garagepunk song that plays like a supercharged Rip Off Records track with a little extra chaos at the start. It comes attached to a video (directed

by Corey Glenn, produced by Brendan Sheley and starring Matthew Marposon, with casualty-case make-up by Lydia Pligge) that has the band performing for the toughest of tough crowds, and naturally it ends with everyone smiling and bleeding. (Out now)

WINTER & TRIPTIDES “DESAPARECIDOS” (OAR) Estrela Magica is a lovely and lovingly puttogether album dedicated to the music of Winter’s native Brazil—a reverent exploration of the sound and spirit of Tropicalia, with endlessly inventive songs delivered with vivid technicolor charisma. The meditative “Desaparecidos” is a perfect example, and was especially inspired by the legendary Erasmo Carlos. (Out Sept. 28)

WYLIE CABLE “PIROUETTE” (F. DAEDELUS) (DOME OF DOOM) Dome of Doom label founder Wylie Cable has been working on a new solo record for two years, and now it’s surfaced. Buried At Sea is a meditation on separation, up to and including Cable casting his father’s ashes into the ocean. Single “Pirouette” captures those complicated feelings with precision assistance from Daedelus (who joins Kenny Segal and Laura Darlington as features on Buried) and plenty of live instrumentation—it’s a track with the rhythm of an uneasy sea. (Out now)

We can’t wait to see you at a show

GOLDENVOICE PRESENTS BEN HOWARD WITH WYE OAK DEVOTCHKA

9/27

ALLEN STONE with special guest Nick Waterhouse

10/17 + 10/18

9/29

REJJIE SNOW

10/19

AMY SHARK

10/2

10/19

JAPANESE BREAKFAST

10/2

SG LEWIS ST. LUCIA

LAWRENCE with Joe Hertler & The Rainbow Seekers and Jacob Jeffries

10/4

NICK CAVE

10/21

TRAMPLED

BY TURTLES with Actual Wolf

10/4

10/21

NICK LOWE’S QUALITY ROCK & ROLL REVUE COURTNEY BARNETT

10/5

THE DREAM SYNDICATE + MATTHEW SWEET KT TUNSTALL

10/23

MEDASIN GARY NUMAN with Nightmare Air

10/6

EDIE BRICKELL BØRNS with Twin Shadow

10/6

LISA STANSFIELD

10/25

GET THE LED OUT JAIN

10/7

THE RED PEARS

10/27

10/9

PRAYERS

10/28

THE BUTTERTONES

CROOKED COLOURS

11/2

10/10 + 10/11

11/2

GRAHAM NASH WE WERE PROMISED JETPACKS

10/11

THE DAMNED

11/4

CLUTCH

10/12

KRUDER & DORFMEISTER THE PAPER KITES with Wild Rivers

11/10 + 11/11

MAX

10/13

PETIT BISCUIT CHERUB CAT POWER PALE WAVES with The Candescents

11/21

MINISTRY with Carpenter Brut & Igorrr

12/20 + 12/21

PUDDLES PITY PARTY

12/29

with Orkesta Mendoza with Tyler Hilton with Ought

with special guest Stephen Malkmus & the Jicks, Waxahatchee

with Drama

with Prettiest Eyes

with Jenn Champion

with Sevendust & Tyler Bryant with Nina Nesbitt & EZI

Shrine Auditorium Fonda Theatre El Rey

Fonda Theatre El Rey

Fonda Theatre El Rey

10/5

Greek Theatre El Rey

Fonda Theatre Fonda Theatre El Rey

Fonda Theatre

Theatre at Ace Hotel 10/11

El Rey El Rey El Rey

JACKIE GREENE

10/14

SERPENTWITHFEET

10/15

GREGORY ALAN ISAKOV WINDHAND

10/16

MEG MYERS

10/17

with William Tyler

with Satan’s Satyrs

with Adam Jones

Fonda Theatre El Rey

Theatre at Ace Hotel 10/16

El Rey El Rey

with The Night Game with Cigarettes After Sex

with Maddie Ross

with Maddy O’Neal

Fonda Theatre El Rey

Fonda Theatre 10/20

The Novo The Forum Fonda Theatre 10/22

El Rey

Fonda Theatre 10/24

Greek Theatre Fonda Theatre El Rey

Fonda Theatre El Rey Fonda Theatre Fonda Theatre 11/5

Fonda Theatre Fonda Theatre 11/15

The Mayan Theatre at Ace Hotel 12/6

Fonda Theatre Fonda Theatre Fonda Theatre