MELISMA
FROM THE EDITORS
EDITORS-IN-CHIEF
T
ART & LAYOUT DIRECTOR
What’s going to be the pull quote from this letter? That’s hard to say. Is this the best Melisma yet? It’s as good as the last, and that one was a success by all accounts. Perhaps, then, the focus of the letter is that we’ve hit our stride. The celebration here is that this issue is not a miracle. Maybe we’ve achieved some sort of consistency, or at least a set of rules that we’re satisfied with.
Grant Fox Jordan Rosenthal-Kay
Elias Jarzombek
MANAGING EDITOR Jessica Mow
DEPUTY EDITORS Ross Bretherton Chelsea Wang
CONTRIBUTING WRITERS
Max Ettleston Ian James Anna Linton Kristina Mensik Chelsea Wang
FOREIGN CORRESPONDENT Rebecca Sinai
PHOTOGRAPHERS Amy Kao Evan Sayles
STAFF
Isabella Garces Jason Mejia Luis Del Rosario
he letter from the editors is almost a running joke now. In each of the last three have we claimed a rebirth of Melisma. We’ve talked about the “naissance of a cohesive undergraduate music culture” and the powerhouse that is our website.
Hopefully you’ve noticed our expanded presence on campus. Hopefully you’ve welcomed that. Our mission is to connect and explore the music scene at Tufts and help bridge the gap from Tufts’ to Boston’s greater music scene. We’re also here as an outlet, a forum to express and discuss music as it relates to our lives. In this issue, you’ll find an in-depth exploration of the work of Tufts professor and composer Kareem Roustom. We’ve got some interviews with Tufts bands, past and present. But we’ve also got features too. One examines the depths of the weird art produced for Soundcloud, another, the storied history of WMFO. It’s the kind of stuff you won’t find on Pitchfork. We’re still finding our voices and welcoming new staff members, but now we have some examples of work we’re proud of to serve as a model. We have a lot on our plate for next year, aside from our usual coverage of new freshmen bands, professors that make cool stuff, and op-eds on why you should care about a certain genre of music. Some plans: running our own live shows, more coverage of local music, and expanded video content. We promise you this: the Melisma you’ll be reading a year from now won’t look that much different. Some added color, TCU Treasury willing, but the format will be the same. After two semesters of building a new music magazine, we finally have some brand recognition and consistency. And at the end of it all, maybe we’ll be able to tell people about Melisma without having to add “the music magazine at Tufts” for clarification. Thanks for reading, clicking, listening, and talking. We hope you enjoy the Spring 2015 issue of Melisma Magazine. Jordan Rosenthal-Kay and Grant Fox Editors-in-Chief
Interested in writing, art or design? Questions, comments, adulation, or hatemail? email melismamagazine@gmail.com
MELISMA | SPRING 2015 | CONTENTS 3
MELISMA TUFTS’ PREMIERE JOURNAL OF MUSIC TUFTS KAREEM ROUSTOM
Facing conflict through music Kristina Mensik
CAVE
Comp Sci TAs making waves Jordan Rosenthal-Kay
MAGIC MAN
The synthpop band talk Tufts
Chelsea Wang
WMFO: A HISTORY
An epic tale of resiliency Anna Linton
SNAPSHOTS
Pictures of your friends Staff
4 6 8 10 11
14 16
Now you can compare Tufts with this brand-new metric! Grant Fox
SPRING 2015 VOLUME 14.0
INTERLOPERS
Infectious groovemakers Jordan Rosenthal-Kay
ARTS AT THE ARMORY
On Somerville’s cultural hub Ian James
FEATURES
17 18
RETURN OF THE GROOVE Is disco-pop here to stay? Max Ettelson
WEIRD SOUNDCLOUD
We go down the rabbit hole Grant Fox
OPINION
CENTER SPRING FLINGS RANKED
LOCAL
12 20
DOES GOOD HIP-HOP NEED GOOD LYRICS? Aesthetics vs. Lyrics
Max Ettelson & Grant Fox
ON THE COVER
Cave, by Jordan RosenthalKay
Melisma Magazine is a non-profit student publication of Tufts University. The opinions expressed in articles, features or photos are solely those of the individual author(s) and do not necessarily reflect the views of the editors or the staff. Tufts University is not responsible for the content of Melisma Magazine. If you would like to submit a letter to Melisma Magazine, please send it to melismamagazine@gmail.com. Please limit your letter to four hundred words or less.
THE MAN WHO KEPT THE BAND PLAYING TUFTS PROFESSOR KAREEM ROUSTOM TALKS ABOUT HIS MUSIC IN CONTEXT TO MIDDLE EASTERN CONFLICT BY KRISTINA MENSIK
K
areem Roustom laments being pigeonholed as “the Middle East guy” in the world of composers. But it’s nothing to lament. I sat down with the Tufts’ professor in late March and left the interview feeling riveted by his work surrounding Middle
The summer of 2014 was a salient time for the tour. Perpetual violence in the Occupied Territories and Israel turned into another period of internationally recognized war, resulting in the deaths of sixty-six Israeli soldiers and six Israeli civilians, six-
Eastern music and narratives. One of Roustom’s most remarkable professional achieve-
hundred and five Palestinian militants, one hundred and twentythree Palestinians of unverified status, and one-thousand four-
ments occurred just last year. After hearing a sampling of Roustom’s work, the world-famous conductor Daniel Barenboim
hundred ninety-two Palestinian civilians. In this time when tensions, resentment, and hatred would
commissioned Roustom to write a piece for his orchestra. The West Eastern Divan Orchestra has an exceptional history and
have been at their worst, the orchestra’s Israeli, Palestinian and other Arab musicians played works like Roustom’s 13-minute
place in current concert music. Roustom tells me, “[it was] founded a good 15 years ago by Barenboim and Edward Said.”
“Ramal”. Roustom was born in Syria, a country whose own ongoing
It was purposeful in that “Said was Palestinian, and Barenboim was Argentinian-Israeli, and they started this experiment, ask-
civil war following the suppression of a 2011 pro-democracy movement has claimed over 220,000 lives. Roustom’s work on
ing ‘what if we bring Arabs and Israelis to play together in an orchestra? What if it’s about how we have to listen to each other
pieces like “Ramal” demonstrates his ability to instill music with emotions, glimpses of experiences that deserve acknowl-
as a meeting point to start this dialogue?’” After its premier in Buenos Aires, Roustom’s summer tour
edgement and reverence. This human component to Middle Eastern conflict is so often omitted from Western media and
performed at the Luscerne Festival, then the BBC Proms, and then the Salzburg Festival. Roustom gushes at the mention. “[They] are, you know, the biggest classical music festivals in the world. I kind of added it up, and just on the tour alone, there were 22,000 people who heard the piece. And it was broadcast!”
dialogue. We then analyze these conflicts as far-off paradigms of power struggles, some of which have more vested interests to the West. It is this that dictates our level of involvement. “You know,” Roustom lets out an almost inaudible sigh. “I try to write music that will
Photo Credit: Chris Christodoulou
MELISMA | SPRING 2015 | TUFTS 5 connect with people, and a lot of the music I’ve been writing recently has been reflecting on the horrible civil war in Syria, and the total devastation and destruction. A number of people from Syria who had heard [“Ramal”] responded. At Salzburg, I was told that the Egyptian Ambassador, she was Syrian, and apparently she cried after the piece. So she was moved by it, and not because it’s a great piece, but because, for Syrians, they’re feeling what I was trying to express, they’re looking for something that allows them to cry.” Non-Syrian listeners were similarly moved. One former stu-
“
I’m just trying to put something positive out there. See what happens.
bunch of students who were at the Fletcher school, so future Ambassadors or CIA or whatever. It’s nice for some of these kids, they’re interested in the Middle East and while they’re at Tufts, this is maybe one of the few kinds of cultural interaction they have with it the Middle East. They’re trained to think about the culture. I hope they remember it. We plant seeds, and if they grow, they grow. And if they don’t… I don’t know.” Allowing Fletcher students to play music of the Middle East may not change the future of US foreign policy. A film score like that of Amreeka may not allow US politicians the freedom to openly criticize Israel, and the West Eastern Divan Orchestra won’t turn Khaled Marshal and Bibi into fast friends. Roustom’s music, however, commands respect for the Middle East, highlights beauty in spite of tragedy. It makes visible the human element of the Middle East’s multicultural landscape, a portrayal often absent in Western representations. As Rousteem recognizes, “I’m just trying to put something positive out there. See what happens.”
”
dent of Roustom’s told him that “I was driving down the highway, and I heard this piece and had to pull over and listen, I was so blown away.” Roustom has also completed countless film scores. For fea-
ture films like Cannes award-winner Amreeka, which portrays the lives of Palestinian families in the West Bank and in post9/11 Chicago, “the job of the film score is to manipulate your emotions. At the right time.” The score in Amreeka does so with both power and subtly. Kareem tells me that documentary scores differ in that “underneath the dialogue, it’s music that needs to be felt, but not noticed.” Roustom walked this fine line while scoring Budrus, which follows nonviolent activism in a Palestinian village combating and eventually preventing the building of an illegal Israeli barrier wall. Roustom used a folk dance called a “Depki” as a basis for the whole score, creating “a folk music element that was very regional to that part of the world. With films about the Israeli-Palestinian conflict,” Roustom concedes, “even when a director really tries to be careful about not offending one side or the other. Each screening, someone would say ‘this is pro-Israel!’ and someone would say ‘no, this is pro-Palestine!’” In addition to teaching courses in the Tufts’ Music Department, Roustom directs the Arabic Music Ensemble. Roustom gracefully conveys to me its importance as a means to immerse students in Middle Eastern cultures, humanizing an otherwise too foreign and vilified other. “We’ve had music students, but we’ve also had a
Photo Credit: John K. Robson
CAVE
THE TUFTS TRIO SHARE EVERYTHING YOU NEED TO KNOW ABOUT THEM
C
BY JORDAN ROSENTHAL-KAY
ave’s original description on Facebook read something to the effect of, “Your comp sci TAs play shoegaze.” It’s an illuminating description; they’re a band of seniors who mix familiar basement rock with the unfamiliar. A few surf beats float on the album. Their single, Eel Yevrah (or Lee, as in Lee Harvey), starts with an elated riff before the song shifts into heavier rock. They’re a bit of a disheveled trio, yet cool and confident when talking about what they love. They lounged across from me in the spacious Hodgdon lounge in early April. We talked not only about Cave, but also of their experiences with the Tufts music scene in general.
really go in that direction. I mean, there are some surf beats, but it’s [not] the main thing. Like the single, “Lee” which on the site is just “Lee Harvey” spelled backwards. [Yevrah Eel]
You’ve been around for a year, but your name has only been popping up on campus in the last couple of months. What’s the story? We played a little last spring, towards the end, but just jamming once a week. We worked a lot during the summer; we recorded. Then we did a show with Vundabar for Applejam, and then I got tendonitis in my thumbs, so I was out. Meanwhile, we were editing our album, mixing and all that. Now my thumbs are good, so we did a show before spring break. We finished the album and now we’re trying to generate buzz.
Do you think there’s a pressure among indie bands to conform to the aesthetic norms set in that scene? We just wanted some open, visually textured stuff, something dirty. There’s not much conscious decision-making. It’s not really a pressure to conform to that setting, but, for John, it’s a pressure not to make people upset with his shirtless drumming. The only thought-out thing is that Jesse draws all the stuff, and it’s all these disgusting hand-drawn images.
The narrative of a lot of bands at Tufts is that they’ve come together in a really spontaneous way. Is that what happened to you guys? No, some of us had played in other groups together before. Jesse and I (John) said, before I went abroad, let’s make a surf band. Being a surf band was the idea we started with, but it didn’t
You’ve got a real lo-fi aesthetic to the videos you’ve uploaded on Facebook. Is that what you’re going for? Not really. With one of our videos, we were just looking for something fucked up. We found footage of Evil Knevil just eating it. We slowed down the audio on it. There’s not something we’re consciously going for; it just kinda comes out. We all listen to similar music, so there’s a lot of the same imagery.
How did the decision to stream your album on the radio form? And did anyone listen to it? I think we have different ideas on how to put stuff out. I definitely have the mindset that once we sit on something for so long, we just want people to hear it, put up a Bandcamp link, but John was the mind that it’s nice to stifle things, to let people know that something’s gonna be happening. We want to create as much buzz as we can. If you put out an album and no one knows it’s
Photo credit: Jordan Rosenthal-Kay
MELISMA | SPRING 2015 | TUFTS 7 going to come out, it’s hard. You put it out, and then you don’t know what to do with it. It’s nice to have links to send to your family and friends, but then it’s cool to give access to someone who’s not your friend. We want someone to hear of us who doesn’t know us personally. Or if they know us and say, “hey, I didn’t know you sounded like that.”
“
It’s nice to stifle things, to let people know that something’s gonna be happening.
rial and it kind of fell apart. But after school, once we get jobs and stuff, hopefully we can again be cool. You’re all seniors and have been a part of the Tufts music scene for a while. Do you have any insights into what’s key to becoming known at Tufts? Go to shows, and get to know the people who put on shows. Applejam, Midnight, other booking groups. Build a relationship with all those involved. It’s easy to play a show at Tufts. There’s so many circles of bands that have overlapping members. The network of musicians involved is pretty tight. You go to Berklee, and say you’ve got a show on the weekend, well no one’s going to support you. Everyone’s got a show on the weekend. At Tufts, there’s something to be said about the small pond thing. You know the people involved in music. There’s something to be said about how this isn’t a music school. You might think the odds are
”
It’s almost paradoxical in that if you put your music out online, it might just die like that. But at the same time, that’s how
stacked against you but it’s cool to stick with one musical group and try different incarnations of musical things. The problem is
most artists get discovered. That’s an interesting phenomenon. It allows for the hype band to
that there’s one practice room that everyone wants to use. It’s in Granoff and it’s open to anyone. It’s super hard to book.
be a thing. But sometimes bands can’t live up to it. It’s super cool when you have a recording project that’s just a person and then it
So there’s a discrepancy between how easy it is to play at Tufts
gets translated to a live act.
and how hard it is to practice? It’s super difficult, everyone is well aware. There are super great
Have you guys had enough opportunities to “translate” your music?
facilities, they’re awesome. Granoff’s so cool, but the booking process is super bad. They assume that you’re doing wrong.
Yeah most definitely. Tufts provides a lot of opportunities. Basement stuff around here is hard though. The houses here are
Guilty until proven innocent. There’s a lot of skepticism about who you’re practicing with and what gear you’re using. There’s
really dense and kids are just sandwiching families. Those kind of shows get shut down quickly if they’re too loud. We’ve never
been a black market of trading for hours. It would be nice if that could change. They have these expectations and you’re stereo-
played a basement show. It’s a nice opportunity though at Tufts to have people you know come and support you first before you go and do some random DIY thing. I think though that Tufts has more opportunities for student bands to play than most other schools. Sometimes there are multiple a weekend. It’s easy to shit talk the school and the things you’re offered but we’ve got a much better platform to be heard at Tufts. Playing at Tufts is a nice place to get your bearings before you move out to Boston. It’s a nice sandbox, it’s super low-key. There’s no money on the line.
typed based on the kind of music you play. They allow you to book differently.
The way you’ve built Cave then is that it’s almost like a side project for all of you. Yeah, that’s super accurate. But there’s something nice about that too. There’s a lot of pressure on all of us on more serious things going on. So Cave came together in kind of a carefree way. Making the album and getting ready for shows, that’s been kind of stressed, but at the beginning there was this bliss period. In the beginning it was carefree jamming until we got super into recording. Then we got ready for our show with all the old mate-
Does the way Cave is received vary across the Tufts population? There are people who don’t give a shit, who don’t care about local music. It’s rare to have a show on a college campus where basically people who aren’t related to you in a friend-way are like, “oh I’m here at this show; I like this music.” What I’m trying to say is that most bands get a fan base here by inviting their friends and their circles. They love the music because they love the people. Some people who I don’t know have come up and said, “I love the Cave stuff.” That means a lot to me; I don’t trust anyone who says nice stuff about Cave that I know. Someone said we were tall once. Exceptionally. It’s way better if it’s coming from someone who you don’t know. It’s cool for someone to relate to your music who’s not relating to you.
MAGIC MAN
THE SYNTHPOP BAND DISCUSSES THEIR TUFTS ROOTS
Alex playing with Gulls at the Arts Haus, Courtesy: Alex Caplow
BY CHELSEA WANG
B
efore the Waves, Magic Man’s first full-length album, is full of euphoric synth productions, nostalgic Killers influence, and hard-hitting choruses; it’s a cheery and upbeat development from their more introspective first release, Real Life Color. It’s refined and well-thought-out, all the while, preserving a crazy, young energy that comes from their early experience playing raw and sweaty DIY shows at Tufts. Before the Waves is the definition of feel-good music. Think
turning to Tufts and Yale respectively after France, the two continued building tracks with each other. We just started writing these electronic tracks and singing over them, and we just found a sound we really liked. And when we invited friends to join the
The Secret Life of Walter Mitty and Wake Up by Arcade Fire kind of “feel-good.” It’s giddy; it makes your heart pound.
band, it became a five-piece rock band. When we came to practice, more collaboration happened. We took the songs that we
You’re thinking about uncertainties in your future, failures in your past, things you’ve loved, things you’ve lost, and all of
already wrote and then had to adapt them for a live show and we had to strip them down into their essential parts.And that’s
a sudden you’re enveloped in a brief but exhilarating moment where you feel overwhelmingly grateful for your life. That’s
basically a brief overview of that whole process!
the kind of feel-good Magic Man captures. Their music communicates an understanding that negative experiences are this
Being recent college graduates, how did your different college backgrounds shape what you brought individually to
curiously beautiful aspect of life. They are “a triumphant synth rock band from Boston, MA.”
the band? I did a lot of child development and psychology, so now I’m
Before their concert at the Royale, we got to talk with them about music at Tufts, their college ambitions, and gratitude.
very good at talking to our younger fans when we have crises on Twitter and need some guidance,” Alex half-jokingly half-
Lead singer and Tufts alum Alex Caplow starts off the interview as Sam Vanderhoop Lee, lead guitarist, and Gabe Goodman,
seriously responds in reference to Magic Man’s large following of very enthusiastic younger fans.Getting to the Royale an hour
bassist, are briefly occupied with eating Indian food and signing Magic Man CDs.
early for the interview, we were met with a large group of eager fans holding drawings, posters, and gifts for the band. Gabe, who was friends with Alex and Sam in high school but a year younger than the two, went to Brandeis. “I didn’t graduate because I was fortunate enough to jump on tour with these dudes. And so, I think my college experience was mostly just me figuring out that this was what I wanted to be doing while studying nothing related to it. And sort of hoping by some miracle that something like exactly this would happen, so… dream big.” Lastly, Sam went to Yale. The three all went to similar schools in New England, and experienced that celebrated liberal arts school atmosphere of being given a wide breadth of experiences and opportunities: a scene of passionate students fulfilling niche desires with the support of the school and its dedication to learning and exploration. For Sam, the “dream big, you can do whatever you want” environment kept them all very encouraged. They not only had the resources to follow their pursuits,
What was it like when you guys first got together as a band, in terms of collaborating, compromising, and so on? Well, Sam and I have had a lot of practice collaborating since we grew up together. We’ve been friends for a really long time, went to preschool together. We started writing songs together in middle school. We were always really comfortable being like “Hey, let’s try this”, giving each other feedback, and building off. We were in lots of bands in high school, but it didn’t really click until we took a trip after our freshman year of college. Alex and Sam first started Magic Man with a laptop and an acoustic guitar in the process of traveling around France, trading labor for stay at organic farms and B&Bs. The name “Magic Man” actually comes from an amateur French magician the two met on a farm, where a traveling circus was being hosted. Re-
MELISMA | SPRING 2015 | TUFTS 9 but also the privilege “to be in this position [where] it was okay to try to write songs and try to be in a band for a living as opposed to just going to grad school or getting a job right after school in the same field as your major.” Gabe adds, “To get to this point, it takes a lot of support. Because most people, even people in bands, have trouble coping with the fact that you’re doing something that’s kind of selfindulgent in a way. You’re just making your music and sharing it with people, which is like the coolest but also kind of the most selfish thing you can do in a way. Without a good support system, with people pushing you to say that you can do it in college whether it’s a good counselor or professor or parent or whatever is the most important thing as a young college musician. How would you say you guys keep band morale up? Alex: I feel like we always have a lot of good perspective and know not to throw hissy fits about little things because we’re like ‘We’re so lucky to be here! Look at all these other humans that are like having real problems, how dare we?’ We would be ashamed of ourselves for being divas. You know, we’re always stepping outside of ourselves and being ‘yeah this is shitty in this moment, and yeah we wish we could get more sleep on this night.’ But in the scheme of things, we’re doing what we love to do and we’ve got a dream job, and we like to just stay positive, I think, as much as possible. How would you say your experience at Tufts contributed to your music career and how you perceive your life as it is today?
Yes, honorary Jumbo! Sam: I really do think there was a really good community of people that would put on shows, more so than at Yale… There definitely wasn’t as much of a community of people playing music on campus and putting on shows. Even if it was just like a house party or something. Gabe: I applied early decision and didn’t get into Tufts, so a) What’s up? And b) As someone who grew up seeing what Alex and Sam and their group of friends were doing at Tufts. Constantly, you know, seeing on Facebook that they’d have shows and stuff. They just seemed to have this really great supportive music community, and it definitely was one of the reasons I was interested in Tufts. Sam: I mean you guys came to… like kids from Newton would come to shows [at Tufts]? Gabe: Yeah! I was a junior in high school, and I went to lots shows. Yeah, it was really cool to see these even as a pre-frosh. Alex: I would say one of the reasons we were so passionate about making it happen is ‘cause there wasn’t really a scene when we got there. Versus you go to Wesleyan or other schools, where they’re already established and there are tons of bands. But when we got here, we were like “Where all the bands? I guess we’re gonna have to be the bands. I guess we just have to put on the shows.” It felt sort of like we were doing our own thing… our little alt niche. Dewick or Carm? Alex: I grew up downhill. Freshman year, I spent in Haskell, so I was going to Dewick. I’ve got to say: Dewick.
Alex: I think it has a lot to do with… just being able to take lots of different classes, and sort of raise your general awareness
“
and perspective as a human being. I was able to take drama classes. I was able to join Trunk, a children’s theatre troupe, my freshman year and start off most of my days performing in front of a hundred kindergarteners in a big gym, with a big furry costume, and I would be like ‘waaAAAAH!’ (waves arms excitedly) trying to keep their attention. I think that was actually the best practice that I got keeping a crowd’s attention and just performing, entertaining. I didn’t do a lot of music classes, I took one music theory class. Sam: I didn’t go to Tufts, obviously, but I spent a lot of time there hanging out with Alex and Justine. I feel like Tufts had a really great community of people who would put on shows in their houses. We played at the Arts Haus a bunch of times. There was a group called Midnight that would put on concerts, so we would play in the Crane Room, the Hangar. Look at me, an honorary Jumbo. I’m very Jumbo.
double chocolate chip cookies in the microwave. Zap ‘em. Glass of milk. Call it a lunch.
”
Right on. Sam: Microwaving those chocolate chip cookies everyday. Alex: I would put those double chocolate chip cookies in the microwave. Zap ‘em. Glass of milk. Call it a lunch. Read the full interview at melismamagazine.com!
BY ANNA LINTON
O
n a crisp afternoon in early February of 1971, on a fresh vinyl spinning at 33 1/3 RPM, The Beatles’ “Here Comes the Sun” broke the long silence of the Tufts Radio community. After over a decade of trials and tribulations, pranks gone awry, and a record of disbandment, WMFO emerged in its current profile. The WMFO we know – the freeform community-cen-
Finally, they were able to move their station from AM to FM, launching into an era of freeform radio liberty. It seemed that WTUR would finally fulfill the promising destiny students had battled so fiercely to create. Endowed with a newfound sense of freedom and an eagerness to push WTUR to its limits, these students again drove
tered station – came to life. To do due diligence to the rich history of WMFO is to go
WTUR into the ground. Just one year after WTUR incurred some initial success, the station was again disbanded after a
back to the rocky crucible of its conception. WMFO, in its earliest form, aired as WTCR, Tufts Community Radio, over half
group of students pulled off a prank, lacking in scruples what it made up for in spectacle. They harnessed the MBTA railway
a century ago, from a small room in Braker Hall. There, students first gained recognition as a campus organization
system’s resources as a makeshift antenna network and broadcasted WTUR via these rail lines as far as New Hampshire.
and reached listeners campus-wide, bringing autonomous radio to the
While this elaborate prank was incredibly successful – their signal
hill. While the small club tried to gain traction in the community,
could be heard as far as Quincy, Massachusetts, 15 miles to
the leftover military equipment available for use left the students
the south, and as far north as Nashua, New Hampshire, more
and staff involved without options and with various mysterious
than 30 miles beyond the station’s permitted broadcasting
bouts of radiation leakages. With hazardous conditions and dwin-
limits – WTUR’s license was immediately revoked by the
dling student involvement, the group crumbled in 1961. The dream of a Tufts radio project was dormant until in 1967, when a group of students interested in revamping the club stumbled upon the unused body of funds left over from six years prior. The group of students, motivated by the funds, and their newly acquired digs in Curtis Hall, rebranded the radio station as WTUR, Tufts University Radio. They acquired new and better equipment. After two years of laborious work, The university granted these students $8,000.
Federal Communications Commission and again the station lay silenced. Tufts radio scene would not remain mute for long. Again rebranding itself, this time as WMFO, the station emerged once more in 1971, and resolved to stay. Withstanding a fire in 1977 that wiped out most of its vinyl collection and navigating years of resource and financial instability, WMFO eventually came to thrive for the years to come, morphing into the freeform station it continues to pride itself on being to this day.
MELISMA | SPRING 2015 | FEATURES 11
snapshots MINI INTERVIEWS WITH YOUR FRIENDS
SOUBHIK BARARI Is there a thing as too much kale? Is there a thing as too much breathing?
WAKANA
What does Wakana do, musically, on campus? Indie-pop. We’ve also been writing songs lately, trying to put together good songs. It’s more like the songs are a vehicle for jamming. The songs are our main goal: we’re trying to create a polished product of ourselves
MAEVEY Where do you see yourself in a year? A full length album recorded and out there. I’ll have graduated, so touring around cities and planets. Playing playing playing until my soul melts into something palatable.
dr. bones
Photos by Grant Fox & Jordan Rosenthal-Kay
What do you do? It’s “electronic” music I guess, but its foundation is hip-hop rhythm, and I’m big on sampling weird household items, like pencils breaking, water dripping, paper ripping, stuff like that.
WE RANKED ALL THE COLLEGE SPRING FLINGS YOU CARE ABOUT 1. BROWN HUDSON MOHAWKE, WAKA FLOCKA FLAME, PUSHA T, MODEST MOUSE, YEASAYER, WHAT? CHEER BIRGADE
Brown’s spring weekend blows everyone else out of the water. You might as well stop reading this last after this because nothing compares. This is Kanye dropping Yeezus the same day as Mac Miller and J. Cole release their albums. Try as Miller and Cole might, they won’t compare to a god. The lineup is current with four out of five artists planning on or already having released an album in 2015. It’s diverse but not random. And most importantly, it’s fun. Hudson Mohawke’s set will be a standout. He’s been teasing tracks from his upcoming album Lantern in mixes for the past two months. Pusha T hasn’t done a proper tour in a while so he’ll come out swinging for the fences. And relative unknowns What Cheer? Brigade will low-key steal the show from Modest Mouse. Brown’s Concert Agency just went harder on this lineup than Flocka has gone on his last three mixtapes combined. And for that, their Spring Weekend deserves the number one spot.
Raury at Columbia’s Bacchanal
photo by Kiera Wood
2. COLUMBIA BIG SEAN, RAURY, BRENMAR
Say what you want about Big Sean, but you can’t deny he’s at the perfect stage in his career to put on a great college show. And that’s exactly what he did at Columbia’s Bacchanal. Hot off the heels of his Dark Sky Paradise release, he headlined one of the best spring lineups on the list. Atlanta up-and-comer and perpetual safari hat rocker Raury was the requisite indie unknown act and Chicago DJ/producer Brenmar was the required electronic act. At the end of the day, you couldn’t ask for a more well-rounded, interesting lineup for a single day concert.
3. UMASS BOSTON LUDACRIS, PARTYNEXTDOOR
At first glance this seems like an odd pairing, plus it was at the House of Blues. But think about it some more: Ludacris is going to do all his old stuff (no way he would push Ludaversal on these kids) and Party is going to do all his new stuff. Imagine getting loosened up and comfortable to “Recognize” and “Let’s Get Married” before going all out for throwbacks like “Area Codes” and “Money Maker.” It’s a perfect marriage of old and new, even if it’s a bit narrow.
5. YALE
JESSIE J, ST. LUCIA, KLINGANDE
This isn’t a bad lineup for a spring fling, and we get it Majestic Casual has some really chill music on their page. But you guys had Diplo and Chance last year.
Lion Babe
photo by Rolling Stone
4. TUFTS
KESHA, MISTERWIVES, LION BABE
Regardless of what you think about Concert Board, at least they try. It takes at least a little musical savvy and taste and ambition to book an (almost) all female Spring Fling lineup, and going after Lion Babe* is cool. So shoutout to them. At the end of the day, they didn’t book Hoodie Allen and isn’t that more important than the glitter obsession, dollar sign/no dollar sign controversy, and whatever other drama Tufts manages to stir up over Kesha? Lion Babe being sent to Europe by the powers that be doesn’t affect our ranking, even though her replacement, Lauren Lane, is to house music what Carm chicken tikka is to Indian food.
MELISMA | SPRING 2015 | SPREAD 13
6. MIT
LUPE FIASCO, BAD RABBITS
The MIT newspaper’s article on their Springfest lineup announcement included this gem of a quote in the opening sentences, “‘I guess I’m okay with it,’ Jitesh V. Maiyuran ’18 said of the choice of artist, ‘even though Lupe Fiasco wasn’t as big as he was years ago.’” Expect local up and coming pop/R&B band Bad Rabbits to steal the show in a major way.
Kygo
photo by Mattis Folkestad
7. PENN KESHA, KYGO
At least Tufts booked Kesha with some sort of allwomen lineup mission in mind. Penn just booked her because they’re lazy. “oh come on, that’s not fair” you, apparently a Penn student, argue. “How do you really know they’re lazy?” They booked Kygo too.
Local funk/rock band Bad Rabbits
8. HARVARD JESSIE J
You have to admire Harvard for booking Yale’s headliner and calling it a day just like that. If an arms race of spring fling acts resulted because of this we’d totally write a piece about it.
photo by Ben Riggott
photo by Austin Hargrave
9. CORNELL
CHANCE THE RAPPER
Booking Chance The Rapper for your spring concert is like ordering a burger from Moe’s at 1:30 AM. Sure, it’s not the best for you and you’ve had it a half dozen times before but you’re drunk and tired and at least you know what you’re getting. And who’s going to judge you? Everyone else out at this hour is drunk and tired too and they definitely don’t care. It also doesn’t help that the Ras Trents of Magic! will chill everyone out into submission long before Chance even takes the stage but at least every male on the Cornell campus has had the words to “Good Ass Intro” memorized for nearly two years now.
10. UMASS AMHERST HOODIE ALLEN, CHANCE THE RAPPER, TIMEFLIES
Even if this lineup came out 3 years ago, it still would have sucked. No wonder Chance is able to afford living in LA making fun music with the Social Experiment and not worry about releasing an album any time soon. He does shows like this for college kids who still enjoy pregaming to Timeflies like it’s 2012. When you know two-thirds of the lineup wouldn’t have a career in music if it wasn’t for lazy college concert programming like this, it’s a bad show.
photo by Dusty Kessler
THE INTERLOPERS BERKLEE’S INFECTIOUS GROOVEMAKERS BY JORDAN ROSENTHAL-KAY
C
urtis Kelly bounces across the green checkerboard floor of Great Scott, an old-style bar and music venue that sells itself as hip. Most patrons are wearing beanies and have beards. The bartender’s skin is saturated with ink. He wears glasses and leans over the counter, chatting to someone wearing a Black Flag shirt, but with the squares replaced with cats. Cat Flag. The bar TV plays The Simpsons. Today’s recommended brew is Peak Organic Fresh Cut Pilsner. We’re in Allston. Curtis Kelly sports a big smile and firm grip as he shakes my hand. “We’ll be just a minute,” he tells me. I go and sit at the bar as Curtis corrals his six-piece band from their soundcheck. They’re called The Interlopers, and they play R&B-inspired pop/rock. I interviewed them on a cold night in mid-February. Snow blanketed the Allston streets; the green line was down. Yet, The Interlopers drew a sizable crowd. It’s easy to identify their attraction. They play joyful, spirited music with passion. Their energy is intoxicating. Let’s get the facts straight: You guys are from Berklee? Technically. So who went? We’re all still there, we’ll all undergraduates.
Photo credit: Evan Sayles And you were doing that in high school. Yep. We were doing it in western Mass and relocated. What was the extra talent you guys picked up and how did that change your sound? We picked up Miles on keys. Now that has opened up a whole new harmonic ability as a band. There’s a lot more colors; we can use synths and drift closer to that 21st century sound, in a way. What do you mean by that? We see a lot of electronic stuff now, but we’re also like throwing in back to the 70s, but we’re also pushing forward. We don’t want to lose what we love about music, in an attempt to be commercially successful, but of course there’s a lot of music today that’s electronically produced. Bruno Mars is doing a lot of great work throwing it back. In terms of “Uptown Funk,” the audio is very clean and crisp. Our sound is taken it back there. What’s informed that push for a more contemporary sound? Being at Berklee and what we listen to. We all share a common ground, but we’re all very different. As we added more members, we found more common ground, which made it easy to develop a sound.
So is that how y’all met? Actually, me, Ariel, and Nicholas met in high school. We’ve been doing this since my sophomore year. Have you always been playing R&B? Well yeah, though it’s kinda R&B-rock-pop 70’s throwback kinda style. That’s the kinda music I like to say we belong to.
So you guys are at music school. To what extent has going to music school changed you and your music? Do you think you necessarily had to have gone to Berklee to being doing what you’re doing now? Yes. At Berklee, the stakes are higher. Rather than being like, “this is the garage band that I rehearse in once a week” you’re surrounded by other people doing the same thing. And the aim of the game for everyone is to make a living doing that. There’s
MELISMA | SPRING 2015 | LOCAL 15 a social pressure, maybe a camaraderie geared towards success. You have a friend or a classmate who has a music video that goes viral, and now you think, “I’ve got to up my thing.” And that happens all the time.
“
At Berklee, the stakes are higher.
is created while you’re arranging. So you can’t wait until post production to find something at the source of a song. So being in this program, it’s really opened my eyes into the creation of a good song, and how that’s all in the minds of the creators. With your music, is the genesis of a song a specific moment when you all cohere, or is it a more deliberate process? It varies from song to song. Sometimes we’re all together in one big room and we play until we find something we all like, and we’ll just expand on that. But a lot of times, now that we have people writing songs, one of us will come with a pretty complete idea, and we’ll all arrange it together. But it’s usually a process that comes from an inspiration, like one of us will say, “I want a song that expresses this idea.” And someone will write some words, you know.
”
Do you envision yourselves climbing a musical ladder at Berklee, or in Boston?
We’re aiming not just to blow up in the Berklee bubble. It’s a great resource, and networking is amazing. You get tons of
Outside of your music, in terms of your presentation, is there a specific image you seek to embody? How do you sell
inspiration and pressure to do great things, but we want to be a real band.
yourselves? We’ve never wanted to be anyone but ourselves. We discovered
So you guys are all dressed very hip, you’re young, you’re playing Great Scott. How do you think your peers receive
we’re all fairly goofy people. Fun-loving and loud. We’re marketing ourselves as people we want to hangout with, because
your 70s sound? I feel like that our music would do much better with more lis-
it’s a good time. It’s music you want to hang out with too. The big thing we’re trying to embody in our music is that music is
teners. A demographic of people who aren’t just musicians or people who are going to school for it, or old friends who’ve
such a big, positive force. We get so much joy from being able to do this and the best thing is that we get to share it with other
heard us a ton. We feel that our music would be appreciated much more if it reached a larger body of people who aren’t ana-
people. That, in hand with just being groovy, happy people. This is all consistent with our name, if you think about it. It’s
lyzing it. Regardless of whether it’s intended, when you go to a Berklee concert, people say, “Oh, that could have been done
like animals that socially invade someone else’s space. We’re loud, we’re here now, and we’re goofy.
better.” Or, “Oh that was a nice little lick you played there.” It’s not as organic as, “this sounds great; this feels good.” It’s like going to a restaurant and eating the food and saying, “You’ve put a little too much thyme and paprika in this.” Instead of just enjoying it.
We’re interlopers, interloping.
Melisma’s from Tufts, and we’ve got a lot of musicians at Tufts. What advice do you guys have for fellow aspiring musicians who aren’t at a music school like Berklee? Just play with as many people as you can. Find what it is in the music that you like that distinguishes it, whether it’s in the songwriting or the recording process. Find that. Has there been a specific academic experience that has informed how you play? Definitely. I study music production and engineering, all the audio and the recording process. In terms of arrangement, I think about the mixing process during the songwriting process. I find that a lot the emotion and specialty of a song isn’t produced but
Where does that name come from? Ninth-grade English class. It means, “the invaders.” It has an ironic meaning for us, because the music we make isn’t actually invasive. It’s an ecological classification... like raccoons. It’s ironic in that we’re not invading ears or spaces, but we’re inviting them in, pleasantly. Is there anything you guys try to write about? We try to stay in keep with that positive message of self-empowerment, Curt, as principle lyricist, his aesthetic is always just coded in positivity. Like that’s the vehicle and there are so many stories that are told with that, like if it’s a social change thing, or a friendship thing. That’s the main focus.
ARTS AT THE ARMORY IAN JAMES
G
o to the Armory on a Thursday morning and you’ll have a hard time guessing what’s inside. With imposing
cus on local art. They have monthly shows for poetry, jazz, and singer songwriters. One of the most popular shows for local
white towers and slim, deep-set windows it looks more like a 19th century prison than a thriving music venue. Go inside
artists is The Loop. Organized into 15-30 minute performances from a variety of local bands, The Loop is a great opportunity
and you might still mistake it for a quiet little coffee shop. The only visible sign of what the space becomes in the evenings is
to hear music from all corners of the Somerville. Other shows worth checking out are David Tanklefsky & Friends, and the
a red curtain in the corner of the room. Return on a Saturday night and both the curtain and the cozy coffee shop have disap-
open mic nights. Tanklefsky is a local singer-songwriter who performs with a different set of local musicians every month.
peared. In their place is a compact music venue buzzing with atmosphere.
If you hear someone you like you can pick up their CD on the way out.
Unable to fit more than 30 people, it feels like a family get together where every other person just happens to be a talented
These smaller shows are usually held in the cafe, but the Armory has a larger space as well. The performance hall is a tall,
musician. When they’re not performing artists sit among the crowd; they have a drink and chat with audience members.
arching room with a stage, mezzanine, and plenty of room for dancing. Throughout the renovation, the original design of the
Most of the crowd seems to know each other; its a community space. At one show an artist’s brother, his girlfriend and another artist’s childhood friend were all called up to the stage to say hello. The musicians are also more than happy to talk to any strangers. The building that The Center for Arts at the Armory uses today was built in 1903 as a home for the Somerville Light Infantry of the Massachusetts Volunteer Militia. It’s ten minutes away from Tufts, on Highland Avenue. In 2004 the state sold the building to the two brothers who own the Middle East Club in Cambridge. They decided to reinvent the Armory as a home for local artists. It took them until 2009 to renovate the building and prepare for it public use. This means The Armory has only been putting on shows for the last six years. It may not have a long history as a music venue, but that hasn’t stopped it from attracting the likes of indie folk band Darlingside, pianist Vienna Teng and guitarist Nils Lofgren. Despite its growing reputation, The Armory maintains a fo-
Armory was maintained as best as possible, and, when inside, the hall feels an awful lot like an army barracks. The performance hall usually hosts one to four events a week, while the cafe has five to six. Soon the hall will be hosting an even wider range of events, if an upcoming series of benefit concerts is successful. The Armory is hoping to use the concerts to raise money for soundproofing the performance hall. When completed the Armory should be able to host louder shows, even though its situated in a largely residential area. Do not be surprised if the Armory soon adds punk rock and rap to its current line-ups. There’s plenty of live music to watch in the Boston area, but The Armory stands out as more than just a venue. It’s a home for Somerville’s local artists, and its atmosphere brings audiences right into the show. If you are looking for a place to relax with friends and hear good music there’s no better place to go.
RETURN OF THE GROOVE
MELISMA | SPRING 2015 | FEATURES 17
HOW POPULAR MUSIC HAS EMBRACED DISCO AND FUNK
BY MAX ETTELSON
P
opular music has fully embraced the groovy sound of the 70’s
By 2013, however, the allure of EDM had begun to fade, and its
and it has once again become a part of the modern musical zeit-
rise in popularity had resulted in a homogeneous sound that quickly
geist. The question is, how long will it stay? During the 1970’s, disco slowly grooved its way from the night-
oversaturated popular music. The four-on-the-floor electronic pounding that had taken over was getting old, and mainstream dance music
club into mainstream culture. Artists like the Bee Gees, Chic, Barry
needed some new life breathed into it. On April 19, 2013, Daft Punk
White, and even The Jackson 5 helped to catapult the genre into
completed the musical cycle, and took house music completely back
the spotlight. What most people don’t remember, however, was the
to its disco roots.
backlash that came from those who opposed disco. Culminating in
With the help of Chic guitarist Nile Rodgers and Pharrell Wil-
the infamous Demolition Disco Night in Chicago, the anti-disco
liams, the duo crafted the catchy and oh-so-smooth “Get Lucky,”
sentiment held by many rock fans and musicians alike overpowered
which quickly rose to the top of the charts and took over mainstream
the genre, leaving only remnants of it in other subgenres.
music. This song, along with the rest of their album “Random Access
That is, until now. These days, the mainstream culture has once again brought disco and its big brother funk into the forefront of pop music. The top song on the Billboard charts, the Mark Ronson and
Memories,” sparked a resurgence in disco, leading to the current situation we have today. Not only did Daft Punk reinvigorate pop music, they also sparked
Bruno Mars collaboration’ “Uptown Funk,” is heavily influenced by
a revival of disco in the dance music scene. Now that house has be-
the groovier sounds of the 70’s. The number two track, Maroon 5’s
come a huge part of mainstream party culture, more artists have been
“Sugar,” uses elements of disco in its production as well. Regardless
able to explore bringing groove back to EDM. A-Trak’s side project
of the time of year, there always seems to be at least one or two disco
with Armen Van Helden, Duck Sauce, uses soul and disco samples
songs on the charts. Bruno Mars’ “Treasure,” Katy Perry’s “Birth-
as the backbone of many of their tracks, giving them a distinct disco-
day,” and the controversial phenomenon “Blurred Lines” all took a
oriented sound that separates it from mainstream EDM. Other disco-
lot of influence from disco. If you haven’t been closely following the
oriented dance acts like Breakbot, Robotaki, and Solidisco have each
music industry trends over the past few years, it could almost seem
taken the disco sound and created a personal brand around it.
like this change came out of left field. If you think about what has happened, however, the resurgence of disco seems almost inevitable. Although disco in its purest form was overpowered by opposi-
Besides expanding upon the genre, there are artists who have chosen to revive the groove in its purest form. Tuxedo, a group consisting of singer-songwriter Mayer Hawthorne and producer Jake One,
tion from the rock music community, it still managed to survive
has taken the soundscapes of funk, disco, and R&B to craft a their
through a strong influence on house music, a genre that began in the
own quirky brand of songs about girls. After the success of their first
early 80s. During its early years, house music was a stripped-down,
collaborative LP, the duo has already begun work on its sophomore
electrified version of disco, sharing its predecessor’s catchy hooks
outing, proving that disco shows no signs of slowing in the near
and punchy percussion. House music remained fairly underground in
future.
the United States until the turn of the century, when a new genera-
As great as this resurgence is for fans of groovier music, there
tion of electronic artists redefined the genre’s boundaries. Many of
is one concerning result of disco’s rise to popularity. If you look at
these producers – Avicii, Afrojack, David Guetta, and Zedd – brought
the charts over the past few years, pop-rock has seen a huge decline
dance music into the mainstream, and by doing so made themselves
in presence on the charts. Whether this is due to disco’s current popu-
household names. The genre was rebranded progressive house as it
larity or the diversification of musical tastes, it remains to be seen.
evolved to include greater audiences and incorporate more elements
Popular music is constantly changing, but perhaps this time disco is
of pop music.
finally here to stay.
Artwork by Grant Fox
A TRIP DOWN THE RABBIT HOLE OF WEIRD SOUNDCLOUD
WHY WE SHOULD CARE ABOUT THESE INTERNET JOKESTERS BY GRANT FOX
I
n 2010, The Middle East in Cambridge was hosting a weekly party on Thursday nights called Throwed. This was the height
Twitter is a well-known subgenre of the social media platform, and a closer relative to the weird Soundcloud community Wang
of electro-house’s popularity, and the start of fist-pumping, drop-heavy EDM breaking into the mainstream. Kevin Wang,
pioneered. Genre-defining accounts like @horse_ebooks and @dril attract hundreds of thousands of followers. The commu-
a BU undergrad at the time, was a weekly resident at the Middle East. As Throwed grew to become the biggest electro party
nity of weird Soundcloud acts much in the same way, satirizing the medium with over-exaggerated takes on mainstream mu-
in Boston, he grew to resent what EDM culture was doing to DJing. “DJing no longer became about trying to do something
sic. The acts often parody electronic music, creating unlikely mashups or exaggerating the focus on drops to the point of
interesting or weaving something cool together, it was entirely a big dick contest about who could do the heaviest drops and play the sickest shit,” he recalls. After the popularity of electrohouse peaked, he quit DJing and moved to New York. But EDM kept rising, and Kevin decided to use Soundcloud, then a fastgrowing German startup advertised as a Youtube for audio, to poke fun at mainstream EDM culture. His account, Best Drops Ever, mashes up mainstream EDM buildups with non-sequitur drops. The first mashup he posted is the buildup to electro banger D-Wayne’s “Ammo” that drops into Sarah Mclachlan’s “In The Arms Of An Angel.” It has almost 750,000 plays. Every media platform eventually attracts parody artists and weirdoes that stretch the boundaries of what is acceptable content in the medium. Television’s most popular weirdoes right now are Tim Heidecker and Eric Wareheim, whose material largely mocks public access TV with lo-fi special effects and the painful awkwardness of amateur television personalities. Weird
comedy. Material is often drawn from the most popular songs of the time, with an emphasis on camp. The more tasteless the mashup, the better. Another popular weird Sounclouder is DJ Detweiler, whose shtick is dissonant and tempo-less flute and recorder covers of canonized dance classics like Darude’s “Sandstorm.” Detweiler has over 19,000 followers on Soundcloud and has managed to parlay the weird Soundcloud attention into attention for more serious musical efforts, doing live shows and premiering tracks on BBC Radio 1. And this is where the weird Soundcloud community differs from weird Twitter. For better or worse, the medium they produce in is considered an art, and many of them make non-parody art on the side. “I’d say 95% of [weird Soundclouders] make some form of real music,” Wang tells me. But Detweiler is an outlier. Most weird Soundclouders are better known for their jokes than for their genuine musical efforts. The first generation of weird Soundclouders have largely stopped making jokes, ac-
MELISMA | SPRING 2015 | FEATURES 19 cording to Wang. “It’s really discouraging for them to put all this time into a hip-hop track that gets them like 100 plays and then put a tiny fraction of that into a stupid Skrillex thing that gets 3,000 hearts in a month. A lot of people stopped making jokes because that got to them.” But weird Soundcloud is infectious. The low barrier to entry in music production is even lower when lo-fi, dissonant material is valued for being so bad it’s good. “It’s easy to make a joke of your own, to participate. You don’t need Ableton or Logic to make a joke,” says Wang. But two distinct problems emerge from this valuing of jokes in a popular medium of sharing art like Soundcloud. The parody element becomes watered down after the novelty wears off and more people begin participating and the prevalence of jokes starts to distort our expectations of art. Weird Soundcloud material developed its own tropes and genre conventions, which are easy to replicate and lead to uncreative material, even in a genre where the uncreative is ironically valued as funny. “You kind of get trapped doing it because
interpretations of instrumentals, were hilarious and intentionally thought-out jokes. Dranoff was now an unintentional weird Soundclouder with thousands of fans. Upon first listening to his recordings, a listener might think they had stumbled upon a brilliant weird Soundclouder, but according to Dranoff this couldn’t be farther from the truth. Dranoff knew the material was funny, but didn’t intend for anyone to find it. But he wasn’t surprised that people liked it for the novelty of the project. “Everything is polished, shiny, plastic and indistinguishable. When something is honest or different, it gives people a different kind
“
it’s ‘easy,’” says Wang, “I think part of the reason why the joke community sucks now is precisely because of that. Nobody’s
What does it say about our culture when it’s easier to produce and gain a following by mocking art rather than participating in it?
”
making straight up clever shit.” The larger problem exists when jokes and a valuing of camp
of experience,” he explained. Dranoff was breaking the mold, creating art that went against the normal convention of what it
become so pervasive that enjoying art for its surface-level value, a layer devoid of any irony, becomes more difficult. There’s
means to express fandom, and his art was treated as a parody. Dranoff’s goal wasn’t comedy; he simply was expressing his
a distinct insistence on irony in pop culture that helps acts like the weird Soundcloud community become popular, but hurts
love for an artist he admires, incorporating Kanye’s art into his own art. But the result was an audience, myself included, who
less ironic musical efforts. And this creates a distorted sense of expectations both for the consumer and producer. “The chief
laughed at the art out of a misplaced sense of irony. Weird Soundcloud and parody aren’t bad for art. Parody is
danger I think is someone putting an hour into a mashup, getting 1,000 likes and having that screw their expectations up
not inherently disingenuous, nor are humor and art mutually exclusive. In fact, it’s necessary for an artistic community to be
when they put 20 hours into a real track that gets 10 likes,” says Wang. What does it say about our culture when it’s easier
self-aware enough to laugh at itself in order to progress. Mainstream EDM acts like Dillon Francis, Diplo, and Trippy Turtle
to produce and gain a following by mocking culture rather than participate in it? On the consumer side, the desire for irony prevents us from fully enjoying a genuine artistic effort that may not conform to our expectations. The “is he serious or joking?” debate surrounding acts like Lil B, Yung Lean, Das Racist, and others subtracts from our ability to value and enjoy their art for what it is. David Dranoff, an art student from Philadelphia loves Kanye West. He loves Kanye so much, he recorded himself singing along to Kanye’s three most recent albums, all in one take with lyric mistakes, yawns, and all and put it on Soundcloud as a way to archive his passion and love for Kanye. It was a personal project, essentially a way to store the files on the Internet. The recordings were also part of a larger art project that consisted of a visual element expressing his love for Kanye. But when a Reddit user discovered Dranoff’s recordings, they suddenly got tens of thousands of plays overnight, mostly from people who thought his poor singing, lyrical mistakes, acapella
all incorporate humor and a sense of over-exaggeration into their genuine art in much the same way that weird Soundclouders do into their parody material. The problem is that a constant insistence on irony as the prevailing tone of artistic expression prevents us from fully enjoying genuine art. When artists like Dranoff and Lil B don’t conform to our conception of what hiphop music should look and sound like, they’re treated as parody artists, regardless of whatever message they may be trying to send. Our expectation that everything comes with a self-aware tongue in cheek sense of irony, that every mistake or humorous lyric is a carefully thought-out joke, and the pressure to “get” the joke and not miss out, distorts our ability to enjoy the music for its musical value. Because making jokes and ironic material is easier than genuine artistic expression, irony becomes a defense mechanism for artists who insist on burying more serious emotions in layers of humor. This comes at the cost of art that’s more emotionally available and honest.
DOES GOOD HIP-HOP GRANT FOX T
yler The Creator opens his newest album Cherry Bomb
them to experiment more with different sounds and styles they
with the rebellious guitar-riffing track “DEATHCAMP,”
would not have in a lyrics-dominated industry.
in which he drops this telling line that basically sums up his
This is why the state of hip-hop right now more exciting and
entire ethos as an artist, “In Search Of did more for me than
interesting than it has been in a long time. For all the hate it
Illmatic/That’s when I realized we ain’t cut from the same fab-
has received, autotune is now used as an instrument, indepen-
ric.” We’re a decade and a half into the 21st century, which
dent of its originally intended use. The raw emotion in Future’s
means the newest generation of hip-hop artists and producers
auto-tuned raspy moans on songs like “Turn On The Lights”
grew up listening to early-2000s hip-hop, not the canonized
or the apathetic sadness in Yung Lean’s robotically auto-tuned
Golden Age hip-hop. But before you retreat back to your care-
vocals on “Emails” can’t be conveyed with lyrics alone. ASAP
fully cultivated Gang Starr Pandora station out of fear that a
Rocky’s combination of regional sounds helped push cloud rap
generation of kids raised on artists whose names begin with
into the mainstream, drawing audiences to the dark southern
Lil and Young are at the forefront of hip-hop, consider this:
hip-hop of Lil Ugly Mane and Raider Klan, who influenced
hip-hop has never been more popular and exciting. Kanye isn’t
people like Yung Lean and Bones. As the internet exposes the
exaggerating when he talks about rappers as the new rock stars.
rising generation of artists to a diverse palette of sounds, hip-
It’s no accident that several hundred thousand people will see
hop only gets more diverse and interesting. Complex lyrics to
hip-hop headliners at music festivals this summer.
accompany these new sounds and themes will come with time,
I sympathize with the complaints about lyricism in hip-hop.
and in some ways they already have. Lil Ugly
Mainstream hip-hop right now is not in the best place lyrically,
Mane is the perfect marriage of a heavily
and a lot of casual listeners point to very sound-focused art-
focused visual and aural aesthetic with
ists like Chief Keef, Gucci Mane, and Future as evidence that
lyrically complex themes that comple-
hip-hop is ignorant garbage. All of these artists have legitimate
ment his sounds. But for now, hip-hop’s
merit, and while there are some artists who blatantly rely on
valuing of sound over lyrics is
good production to make their music appealing, that’s not
making for some incredibly
necessarily a bad thing. This focus on sound and image in hip-hop is actually a beneficial trend for two reasons:
fun and exciting music. We might as well enjoy the
producers are finally getting the credit they deserve;
ride wherever it takes
and hip-hop is being pushed into new and interest-
us instead of trying
ing areas because of pressure on artists to develop a
to hearken back to
unique sound. For too long, hip-hop producers were relegated to the background, unless they also got behind a microphone (Kanye West, Pharrell, Lil Jon) or reached the upper echelons of the music industry (Swizz Beats, Mannie Fresh, Just Blaze, Timbaland). Now, production features on albums and mixtapes are just as valued as lyrical features. People seek out material produced by Clams Casino, Metro Boomin, Alchemist, and more because they’re attracted to their specific sound much in the same way they’re attracted to a rapper’s specific style of flow and lyrics. The people behind the beats are finally getting popular recognition in the mainstream. The BET hip-hop awards recognizing the “producer of the year” is an example of this. The result is the producers gaining more power, which allows
the past.
MELISMA | SPRING 2015 | OPINION 21
NEED GOOD LYRICS?MAX ETTELSON A
s a genre that began with simple breakbeats
song? Better yet, I challenge anyone who has never
and lyrical rhythms, hip-hop has come quite a
heard of Young Thug to listen and write the words
long way since its inception. What started as simple
to any of his songs. People who enjoy listening
rhyme schemes and themes has evolved into the
to these songs don’t really care what’s being said,
all-encompassing label for a variety of unique and
they’re just enjoying the overall sound of the music.
disparate talents.
Hip-hop is a massive genre, and the variety of
When this sort of labelling occurs, there’s al-
artists within it is something to be proud of as a fan,
ways a style that becomes the mainstream definition
but a problem arises when songs like “Trap Queen”
of the genre. If you take a look at the Billboard
or Rich Gang’s “Lifestyle” are what is exclusively
charts of the day, most of the songs you see are
seen as modern-day hip hop by the mainstream.
party songs, which is to be expected (Fetty
Just as the sound of hip-hop evolved over time,
Wap’s “Trap Queen” recently sat at the num-
so did the subject matter. Artists became more po-
ber one spot).
litical over time, and they used hip-hop to convey
Though most party songs have pretty
messages about crime, religion, and the plight of the
vapid lyrics, it used to be the
common man. When these artists began to emerge,
case that people would
they weren’t part of the mainstream. Throughout
know at least the
the Late 90’s and 2000’s, however, artists like Emi-
chorus of the song,
nem, Kanye West, and (dare I say it?) Macklemore
if not a select few
were able to use the airwaves to tell meaningful sto-
passages of it. No
ries and entertain simultaneously.
one could ever for-
A few years ago, we didn’t have the problem we
get the chorus and
have today. As mainstream Hip Hop has become
the first few lines
dominated by aesthetic-based acts, the more lyrical
of “My Name Is”
and socially conscious artists have almost disap-
by Eminem, or the
peared completely from the radio. Even Kanye’s
refrain of Jay-Z’s
newest single, “All Day”, relies heavily on the aes-
“99 Problems.”
theticism of mainstream Hip Hop.
In the past
I have nothing against this new music itself, but
few years, how-
I’m opposed to the future it may lead us to. There
ever,
be-
will always be people who think Hip Hop is “stu-
come more and
it’s
pid” or “not music,” but if the mainstream continues
more
common
on the trajectory it has, the number people in this
for popular art-
camp will get even bigger, and that’s bad for hip-
ists to complete-
hop as a whole. The genre needs more representa-
ly forego lyrical
tion from a variety of artists so as to show what can
content and focus
be done within it. Unless artists like Eminem are
solely on their aes-
able to show the mainstream that hip-hop still has
thetic. Most people
the capacity to be more than just meaningless sound,
have
heard
“Trap
Queen”, but does anyone even know what’s being said in a majority of that
the future of the genre will start to look pretty grim.
MELISMA | SPRING 2015
WHAT WE’RE LOOKING FORWARD TO SNOOP DOGG Bush
HOT CHIP Why Make Sense?
HUDSON MOHAWKE Lantern
CHROMATICS Dear Tommy
JAMIE XX In Colour
TAME IMPALA Currents
23
MELISMA SPRING 2015 LISTENING GUIDE
MUSIC TO ACCOMPANY THE ARTICLES DISCO
KAREEM ROUSTOM
Tuxedo ● Do it Duck Sauce ● Party in me Breakbot ● Fantasy Pharrell Williams ● Marilyn Monroe Katy Perry ● Birthday Maroon 5 ● Sugar
Dabke for Budrus Ramal for Orchestra Letters Home Beyonce & Shakira ●
Beautiful Liar
WEIRD SOUNDCLOUD Pdwubs ● Preparing The Trabpy Patty Best Drops Ever ● A Drop So Crazy You’ll Kill Your Family Darude ● Sandstorm (DJ Detweiler Remix) Hoobstankonia ● An A$AP Christmas Tonydelgadojr ● WEEE WOOOOO
HIP-HOP LYRICS Prhyme Vince Staples Run The Jewels Kendrick Lamar Lupe Fiasco Eminem
● ● ● ● ● ●
Dat Sound Good Hands Up Early Wesley’s Theory Mural The Real Slim Shady
HIP-HOP SOUND Future ● Codeine Crazy Young Thug ● Speed Racer Bones ● Amethyst Travis Scot ● Quintana Part 2 Yung Lean ● Kyoto Partynextdoor ● Don’t Worry Kanye West ● Only One