One of Many or One of a Kind?

Eric Lau

“I want the album to uplift people. I consciously chose not to make this loud or flashy, because everything else is so in your face right now – it’s meant to be a beautiful record.”

Judging by the title of his new album, London-based producer Eric Lau is a humble fellow who wants you to think of him as just One of Many. But with this release, and an impressive resume of productions for Lupe Fiasco, Oddisee, Dego (of 4Hero), Georgia Anne Muldrow, and an album with Stones Throw alumni Guilty Simpson, it is evident that he’s crafting songs that are more distinct than his unpretentious attitude suggests.

As an educator, he has had the opportunity to teach underprivileged people around the world how to make music. As a DJ/producer, he has started to build a following from mainland China to South Africa. Despite these achievements, Lau remains grounded. “The album title means that I’m just one of many people on this planet and together the many of us make one – we’re all connected,” he says. “You can take it in many ways – hopefully it means one of many albums, too.”

Lau credits his parents and upbringing for his strong work ethic and modest outlook. “They worked hard their entire lives to set me up, it would be a dishonor to my parents if I was not humble,” he explains. Lau’s family is originally from Sai Kung, a seaside town in Hong Kong’s New Territories. During the making of One of Many, his father came from the New Territories to visit, spending 5 weeks in his son’s London apartment. It was the first time Lau’s father had seen his son working in his musical element – taking meetings, and producing in his in-apartment studio with a steady to and fro of musicians and singers. Pops got to hang with rising UK soul star Fatima (who’s graceful London-mannerisms appear on “Divine”) and finally listened to his son’s music. “He heard the first single from the new album and his reaction was so nice,” says Eric. “He asked me to put it on his phone.”

It’s endearing to think of Lau’s father warming to his son’s productions (his musical endeavors are usually more karaoke in nature), but contemporary soul and RnB fans shouldn’t have to leap too far to board the Lau bandwagon. He makes glowing soul tunes that are concise, crisp and use only the funky essentials. You can confidently file One of Many next to anything by Jill Scott or the more straight-ahead Erykah Badu releases. Andrew Meza, founder of the influential BTS Radio mix blog and label (and to whom I’m grateful for first introducing me to Lau many moons ago), describes Eric as having “some of the warmest and most impressive productions, sounds and swing I’ve heard since early Jay Dee or Soulquarian records. There’s a fine balance of soul and hip-hop with a lasting feeling of hope. Most importantly, it’s always knocking,”

On “Where To Go Now,” easygoing beats and a simple bass line are dialed back, allowing Tawiah to deliver a devastatingly simple hook accompanied only by piano and synths. Georgia Anne Muldrow’s joyous, gospel-inflicted vocals drive the loose, “Brown Sugar”-like “Lily of the Desert,” which also features organ work laid down by West London stalwart Khaidi Tatham. “I want the album to uplift people. I consciously chose not to make this loud or flashy, because everything else is so in your face right now – it’s meant to be a beautiful record,” says Lau. “It’s a hard call because of the way people listen – through laptop speakers, ear buds, and iDocks. But at the end of the day it’s about feeling. If you feel something and it’s quiet, you will turn it up.”

“Guide You” is reminiscent of the Asha Puthli classic “Space Walk” and shares the cosmic production sounds of Ramsey Lewis, Earth, Wind and Fire, or Roy Ayers with forward-thinking London poise. Warm Rhodes piano and flutes float behind Rahel who, seemingly effortlessly, drops a wide-ranging vocal that oozes laid back confidence. Lau recalls that events surrounding the recording of “Guide You” make the song extra special to him. After a productive session recording the instrumental track, Lau, Tatham, and bass player Alex Bonfante hopped in a car to head home. They were happy – still buzzing with the energy of recording together. Then the car they were travelling in was hit hard from behind. Thankfully, major whiplash aside, nobody was seriously hurt. “I’ll never forget that track or that day,” says Lau. “It happened for a reason. It was to remind us that we should be making music together like this all the time – health or life can be taken from us at anytime – do what you are supposed to do because you can’t take anything for granted.”

Simon Daley, founder of Kilawatt Music (the label releasing One of Many and several of his past records), sites Lau’s music as part of the inspiration for starting a label. Lau and Daley met at Rolling Sound, a multi media training company, where Lau was Head of Music, and Daley an intern. At Rolling Sound, Lau cut his teeth as an educator, running workshops for everyone from young offenders to autistic kids and young mothers. Rolling Sound is now defunct, but Lau’s reputation has taken him to teach gypsy musicians in Budapest and host workshops for the Red Bull Music Academy in South Africa. “I had the time of my life in Africa. I’ve never been embraced like that anywhere in the world – great energy, and the people were refreshingly friendly,” says Lau. “I love teaching – I will always be a teacher. I’d like to teach in mainland China where the scene for this kind of music is still in its infancy.”

While cosmopolitan Hong Kong has a healthy music scene, Lau’s brand of soul and hip hop has yet to make deep roots in China. At a recent DJ gig, Lau did his best to engage the crowd. “They were really intrigued but didn’t know the music,” he explains. “Instead of dancing, people would come up and speak to me, and when I made the effort to try to talk in Mandarin they really warmed up. Hopefully my music transcends where I’m geographically based. I want to make music that anyone can feel.”

Eric Lau

All New Players Up! Twitter Too!

bandcamp new embedded players

We’ve just launched a bunch of beautiful new players for you, your fans and the press to embed across the web. They’re simple, customizable, free, and completely focused on your music.

First up is a large player, shown here without a tracklist:


with a tracklist:


and in a minimal, cover-art-only version:


The large player also gives you the option of integrating your merch right into it, like this (try clicking the vinyl images):


We also have a lighter weight medium player:





and an ultra-compact small player:





To create one of the new players, click the Share/Embed control located just beneath your cover art, then click “embed this album”:

click share/embed, then embed this album

You can then customize your player, adjusting its size, color, whether it includes the tracklist and images of your merchandise, and so on:

customize player

We’re also pleased to report that our new players now appear right inside of Twitter whenever you or your fans tweet out an album or track link, like this:

bandcamp players on twitter

A few things you may be wondering:

Where do I paste the embed code?
Paste the code into the HTML of your website or blog post, and voila, you’ll have a player.

Do these work in WordPress?
Yes. If you’re using WordPress.com, be sure to choose “wordpress.com” from the radio selection just below the embed code. That will give you a special WordPress shortcode that you can paste right it into your post or page.

How about Tumblr?
To put one of the new players in a post or page on Tumblr, go to https://www.tumblr.com/settings and temporarily switch your “Edit posts using” setting from “rich text editor” to “plain text/HTML” (Tumblr’s default rich text editor strips some of the attributes from the <iframe> tag, which causes the player to clip). Note that the new players will not appear inline in Tumblr’s dashboard view (you have to click before they’ll show up). That’s a Tumblr restriction, we’re working with them to hopefully have it lifted soon. If you simply want to share your music to Tumblr and don’t care if it’s one of the new players, use the Tumblr button (next to Tweet) — that will produce an audio post using the standard Tumblr audio player.

Can I use the new players inside of Facebook?
Facebook requires Flash for their widgets, so these (which are HTML5) won’t work there. However, you can still put a Bandcamp player into Facebook simply by pasting an album or track URL into your status. That will drop in our Flash-based player, which, while not the same design as these, will still work just fine.

As always, thank you for using Bandcamp!

A Marriage Made In Hull

The Culter

“The only thing you find in pigeonholes is pigeon shit – if there’s a rule invented by a purist or arbiter of taste it is meant to be broken.”

Throughout the mid-1990s Fila Brazilla and their label home, Pork Recordings, trailblazed a legacy of vital albums and remixes. They developed a magical formula for releases that gleefully flipped a middle finger at categorization and caught the attention of electronic music fans worldwide. At the height of their popularity, demand for Fila Brazillia remixes grew to fever pitch. Reworks of over 80 tracks, including those for Radiohead, Busta Rhymes, The Orb, Lamb, and Black Uhuru, hoisted the band up the music industry totem pole, helping drive sales of Fila Brazillia albums higher with each subsequent release. Then there was a big falling out, nobody talked, a studio was pulled apart, and the stream of music trickled to a halt.

A decade or two later, Steve Cobby of Fila Brazillia, and Porky of (not surprisingly) Pork Recordings, have made up. They meet regularly in the shedio (a 15ft x 8ft studio that is loosely disguised as a shed, and sometimes utilized as a post-pub dog house) behind Cobby’s home, and they make music together as The Cutler. “Can you imagine the number of marriages saved if everyone had a shedio?” jokes Cobby.

During their previous escapades, as label guy and music maker, Cobby and Porky (occasionally known as David Brennand, in case you were wondering) never collaborated on music. “He showed no aptitude or prowess in the studio. But he’s a massive music fan, so he’s become an executive producer of sorts on The Cutler,” explains Cobby. Their latest release, Everything is Touching Everything Else, represents the best of the three Cutler albums released in quick succession over the last 12 months. “I’ve got my mojo back – God knows I have no idea where it went, but in the early 2000’s I was convinced that me and music were splitting ways,” confesses Cobby. “I was going to find something else to do. But search as I might, nothing else has hoved into view that’s even comparable to being an artist – whatever I do it has to be creative. I’ve got 30 years of skills, I might as well use them,” he adds.

The mojo is indeed back. Everything is Touching Everything Else is a varied album of songs and instrumentals loosely shepherded by Cobby and Porky, into a collection that is on par with the cream of the albums released on Pork Recordings. “Happenstance and spontaneity seem to guide us,” explains Cobby. “Romulus and Remus” sounds like Peaking Lights or Wild Belle rope-dope’d by a dose of gritty bottom end. “Quite Rightly” unfolds at a more leisurely place with pretty harps and floaty Hammond organ, while “Namaste” is a proper dubby bass bin smasher. The vocal harmonies of Archie Heslewood and Little Glitches warm up proceedings on “Roll Those Laughing Bones” and “OFGB” respectively.

Like the best Fila Brazillia releases, Everything is Touching Everything Else cannot sit still and fails the “file under….” test. Genres are blurred, tempos mixed. Electronic, analog, organic, and sampled – it’s all part of the recipe. “If you have diverse tastes you subconsciously channel that into your music. If you pick little bits from the zeitgeist things don’t age so quickly. I always thought it was exciting to see how you could straddle the digital and analog worlds – they’re just colors. I never used to think drum machine or drummer? And we never thought of ourselves as just players or only programmers because they’re not mutually exclusive – either way you’re only moving air,” says Cobby, before he ices the thought with, “The only thing you find in pigeonholes is pigeon shit – if there’s a rule invented by a purist or arbiter of taste it is meant to be broken.”

Cobby first met Porky in a pub in Hull, England, through a girl that Cobby was seeing. She happened to share a house with Porky. They hung out and bonded over music. “He educated me, especially with respect to reggae,” says Cobby. “I thought his record collection was fantastic.”

Hull, by Cobby’s own admission, might not be the cultural center of the world, but it has spawned some notable creative types: residents past and present include poet Philip Larkin (who famously shunned the Poet Laureate title and was deemed “the saddest heart in the post-war supermarket”), Bowie’s Spiders from Mars band, The Beautiful South, The House Martins (remember London 0 Hull 4?) and The Fine Young Cannibals. “I used to go out of town and think wow there’s a lot going on here,” says Cobby. “But because there’s nothing else to do in Hull you can get a lot of music done. I get less distracted.” Cobby and Porky both possess quick-witted, self-deprecating demeanors. In a recent conversation with Cobby, humorous cultural observations flowed liberally amidst rants about British Imperialism, being a Dad of two boys (“I’m just a spare part, they don’t really need me”), and the state of the music business. “Hull keeps my feet on the ground. They don’t like a tall poppy here – if you get above your station they will absolutely slaughter you, they don’t like show offs or big heads.”

The Culter

In the late 1980s, Cobby was signed to Big Life as a member of the group Ashley and Jackson, and Porky morphed from friend to manager. “Actually he mismanaged me, I had to fire him,” laughs Cobby. “But you know, he’s like a boomerang, I can’t get rid of him, it’s amazing we’re still talking.” Post Ashley and Jackson, Cobby linked up with Man (also known as David McSherry) to form Fila Brazillia, and they would quickly sparkle as the jewel in the crown of Porky’s label. Their six albums and countless singles for Pork were often lazily classified as downtempo or electronica – neither tag summed up the myriad of styles their instrumental output cleverly encapsulated. Setting up their own studio and releasing on their friends label, Fila Brazillia avoided all the pitfalls that generally plagued bands. They made making music their day job, churning out tunes day after day without having to keep an eye on the clock or budget. “We were a small cottage industry and being prodigious was something we had in our favor.” Pork never ran advertising, but word was spread not only by way of consistent and strong musical output, but also the marketing of the remixes they did for major labels with much larger advertising budgets. Porky and Cobby have always done business in a hype-free way, “I was only ever interested in music being the reason why people should be drawn to an artist. To be honest, the older I’ve become the more I despise the whole look-at-me culture,” says Porky who once told the NME to “knob off” when they threatened to send over a photographer for a press shot.

Alas, the 9-to-5 approach eventually took a toll on everyone. “After 10 years it felt like work, it was quite mundane, and it lost some of its sparkle,” explains Cobby. Cobby and Man split from Pork Recordings in 1999 and started their own label called 23. “We’d reached an impasse. Porky felt like he’d become a glorified supermarket manager with people shouting at him all the time. He’d lost faith, we’d lost faith in him… it was an awful time.” Unfortunately, not long after, Cobby and Man also fell out. They sold their studio and went their separate ways. Man went into academia and currently lectures in Audio Production at the University of Lincoln.

After a very quiet decade involving very little production, but a whole lot of playing Dad, Cobby decided it was time to make music his business again. And after a lengthy period of silence he and Porky made up in the safety of the shedio. “It’s a really good excuse to talk to each other and get back into each others lives if we pretend we’re in a band,” says Cobby. “And the upshot is that we’re actually making some good tunes.”’

Their evergreen ability to not take themselves too seriously (despite Cobby’s serious musical chops) means the sound of the The Cutler is as open-minded and free-flowing as the releases that first put them on the map. However, in the current music marketplace they now face new challenges. The cottage industry days of Pork Recordings, where CDs selling 30,000 copies and boatloads of remix requests would pay reasonable wages for three, are gone. Porky, Cobby, and Steel Tiger (Cobby’s new label with Sim Lister) now exist in a music marketplace that’s propelled by Facebook and Twitter, and selling music is a different ball game. “People do still tend to think that music is free,” says Cobby. “Even my kids will say, ‘You actually bought music?’” They’re hoping for a shift of peoples psyches and music purchasing habits. “It’s an unsustainable model, you can’t expect artists to be doing this just for the love of it,” adds Cobby. “Nobody wants to be rich and famous – we just want to make a living wage.”

And The Beat Goes On

Low End Theory
Photo by Brian Baeza, CC BY-NC-ND 2.0

“When Low End Theory first started, it was my rap, DJ Nobody’s psych-rock homies, Edit and his weird burning man friends, Gaslamp, and the beat shit. We didn’t decide what it developed into.”
– MC Nocando

Back in 2006, a weekly experimental hip hop and electronic music night started up at the Airliner club in Los Angeles. Considered the epicenter of what became known as the L.A. beat scene, Low End Theory is still going strong, and also takes place in San Francisco, New York, and Tokyo. For some artists, Low End Theory was a culmination of years of dues paid in the music industry; for others, it was just a breeding ground.

To taste what’s fueling the current iteration of Los Angeles’ beat scene, I started at Hugo’s Tacos. Facing out on Glendale Boulevard in Atwater Village, Hugo’s staples are the honey-chipotle sauce, greasy fries, and soy chorizo. I’m sitting across a sidewalk table from Intuition, née Lee Shaner, a rapper, host of the Kinda Neat podcast, and bastion of the Southern California underground hip hop and beat scene. But right now he’s giving me a biology lesson: “They say that for humans every cell replaces itself in a span of seven years, so it’s like technically every seven years you’re a completely new person. I think it’s the same for any music scene. And Low End is coming up on its seventh anniversary.”

Shaner is old enough to remember the rave scene of the ‘90s, and believes the intertwining of dance and new hip hop (or more temporal terms like ‘trap’) is a major part of today’s rave revival and the drive behind much of the current L.A. sound. At the very least it’s a good intersection to start at when exploring the state of a scene which is so vibrant, it has become dauntingly expansive. In between bites of a chicken quesadilla, he tries to explain to me why hip hop DJs aren’t exactly DJing hip hop anymore. “All the smart DJs realized that money is in dance music right now. They don’t do hip hop – at least, not traditional hip hop.”

Daddy Kev, Alpha PupDaddy KevThe Alpha Pup Records and Digital Distribution compound is only about eight steps away from the taco stand. After lunch we catch Alpha Pup’s founder Kevin Moo, who also goes by Daddy Kev and is credited with starting up the Low End Theory. He’s bounding up a spiral staircase in the office courtyard, headed to the studio that he recently built with James McCall (aka Low End Theory host MC Nocando). Shaner takes me upstairs. In one room they’re tracking the Kinda Neat show for the week, and down the hall Daddy Kev is with a band, mastering their record.

Downstairs in the Alpha Pup office, there’s a stream of interns coming in for the afternoon, mostly to screen promotional material and update Alpha Pup’s social media for the approximately fifty labels they distribute. It’s an impressive workload for such a small office, and I’m wondering if there are enough chairs for everybody.

Between office work and studio time, paterfamilias Kev sits behind his desk explaining how the label is evolving with the rest of the scene. For Alpha Pup and many others, Low End Theory was the beginning of an era: “There was a time when that was L.A.’s best-kept secret, but it’s blown up now. Today’s music fan is operating at light speed.” Low End mainstays are now well-known names worldwide: Ras G, Daedelus, Thundercat, Flying Lotus, and Shlohmo. They are also artists who could already be counted in Alpha Pup’s old guard. “But a lot of those artists are spreading their wings. They’ve been successful with a release or two, have an aesthetic to draw from, and I think the next step for a lot of them is to work with other, bigger, maybe more mainstream artists, and explore their sound a bit. Will what has happened thus far be their golden age, maybe some of their best ideas? Absolutely. Just the same, we’re already seeing another crop of artists emerge.”

Alpha Pup’s in-house record label (which accounts for only a small number of the albums they distribute) has lots of promise. Edrina Martinez, aka Astronautica, is only 21, but turned quite a few heads with her debut LP in February. Replay Last Night bears the influence of the aforementioned originators, but soars easily with its own unique dream-state landscapes and tropical ease. Likewise, Kate Ellwanger, who goes by Dot, brings her experience in opera and composition to her beatmaking. Dot found her own voice in a debut last year; the whimsical, circus-dubstep EP Calliope. A follow-up is to come on June 25th.

Nocando, HellfyreclubNocandoSitting there in the Alpha Pup office, I get the feeling we could talk about new talent all day long, but I’ve got to get across town to meet Nocando. So I hop the bus from Glendale to Earwolf Studios in Hollywood, where he and journalist Jeff Weiss are recording their weekly hip hop show Shots Fired. Nocando still hosts Low End Theory at least five times a month, in both L.A. and San Francisco, when he’s not touring Japan. He’s also now CEO of his own label, Hellfyre Club. In addition to a recent dual-EP project with hyper-lyrical young rapper Milo, Nocando has just dropped his first solo release in three years: a sonically thudding and emotionally heavy mixtape called (winkingly) Tits ‘N Explosions. Barely three decades old, with three kids, his ambition remains, unfettered.

The late nights at Low End seem more like Nocando’s day job, one which he’ll keep through thick and thin. When asked how he feels about Low End’s status as a “scene,” he claims doesn’t care, and never has: “I don’t feel anything – I never thought about that before. When Low End Theory first started, it was my rap, DJ Nobody’s psych-rock homies, Edit and his weird burning man friends, Gaslamp, and the beat shit. We didn’t decide what it developed into. It just so happened that it happened there.”

Huh What & Where Recordings is associated only loosely with Alpha Pup, which I’m realizing is kind of a feat if you’re an established beat label in the greater Los Angeles area. Founded by Bahwee Suh, Francis Clemente, and Keith Fujimoto (who was an intern at Stones Throw Records at the same time as Flying Lotus), HW&W is part of a new germination happening just east of L.A. in the Inland Empire.

Talking to me from their unofficial label house in Diamond Bar, Bahwee is adamant about one thing: even though they’re an international label, they have a real-life, social basis in SoCal. HW&W is above all a group of friends who hang out, smoke, drink, and get into trouble together. “I remember the first time I met Juj… I ended up in the back of a police cruiser.”

Juj, more rarely known as Julian Berg, is a co-founder of the Wedidit collective, a childhood friend of Shlohmo, and a pillar of HW&W, known for vehemently denying opportunities for press and making tracks that embody the “beat scene sound,” if there is or ever was one. But HW&W’s stable of artists is growing rapidly and reaching literally all over the world. From Canada they source both the soulful beats of Elaquent (Guelph, Ontario), whose album Believing is out June 24, and the heavier, turnt-up hip hop of Kaytranada, who is a magnetic force in a newly thriving Montreal beat scene, one worthy of a separate investigation entirely. There’s also Ta-ku, out of Perth, Australia, who first caught some shine for his 50 Days of Dilla project and went on to become one of the label’s most well-known signees.

Kaytranada, Elaquent, Ta-kuKaytranada, Elaquent, Ta-ku

But back to California: One of the spots where the Inland kids and the L.A. O.G.s intersect is in Santa Ana. The Crosby, a restaurant which was opened almost five years ago by Chris Alfaro (aka Free The Robots), worked its way into becoming a Mecca for the culturally starved and beat-inclined in Orange County, and not only that but a place L.A. DJs and musicians respected enough to make the drive to for a show. Alfaro gave Bahwee and his crew My Hollow Drum their first gigs at The Crosby. “It was through [Alfaro] that MHD played some epic shows, with some of our heroes like Nosaj Thing, Dibiase, The Gaslamp Killer, etc…”

Free The Robots seems a fitting liaison, because Alfaro is an incredibly consistent, independent and forward-thinking producer in his own right. For a decade now, FTR has represented a heavily psychedelic side of the L.A. instrumental music. Alfaro’s new release, the In Other Words EP, is no exception. “Transmission” is a gravelly trip through dithering jazz samples and bloated live drum hits. Set with long in- and out- fades, it parades through your mind like a mechanic, future-pocalypse marching band short-circuiting under pelting acid rain. Hardly what you’d call an Orange County aesthetic.

Closer to HW&W headquarters there’s Beat Cinema, a newer weekly showcase that goes down every Thursday at Hip Kitty Jazz in Claremont. Run in part by Michael Leon Davis, who is – and it shouldn’t surprise you by now – also a current intern at Alpha Pup, Beat Cinema might be the biggest weekly event outside of the city that this scene has to offer. Every Thursday, residents such as Repeated Measures and Gypsy Mamba rotate in and out, bringing featured acts from all around the country to the often-sleepy college town.

The week that I’m in L.A., Beat Cinema is hosting a fundraising event for Dublab, the internet radio station and robustly-beating heart of an even more broad-based music scene in Los Angeles. Earlier in the week I found myself at the lab, listening to Sweatson Klank broadcast over the internet airwaves and chatting with Dublab’s GM Alejandro Cohen. He’s so calm and pleasant, you’d never guess he works for a nonprofit doggedly grinding its way toward a $25,000 pledge drive goal.

In a recent LA Weekly profile, Jeff Weiss said of Cohen, “He’s a Swiss army knife of an artist – the sort of indispensable but underpublicized figure who inevitably helps form the dorsal column of any vibrant art scene.” And perhaps also because of his socially generous aura, you can tell he knows everyone. So I try to lob specific questions at him and pigeonhole his scene, and, wisely, he keeps reminding me that it’s not so serious and strict as I want to make it. “Keeping it loose for us is kind of the key,” says Cohen. I confess to him that my mind is kind of boggled by the overlap – the sheer number of people and connections – of which I feel like I’ve barely scratched the surface. Like a sage teacher, he schools me without lecturing: “The overlap is natural. Everyone is just moving in a natural way, and to not be overlapping would be more of a calculated move. For instance, our motto here is Future Roots Radio, which is to say that we’re playing the music of yesterday that are the roots of today’s music, and the music of today that will be the roots of tomorrow’s music. And you can build from there.”

Between The Bass Lines

Gaudi

“I want to see and feel my music without watching a screen. I don’t want to program my music, I want to play it.”

With his wild tufts of hair and racks of analog synth gear, Italian-born dub and electronic producer Daniele Gaudi is hard to miss on stage. He’s been up there a lot lately, as his globe-spanning performance schedule has accelerated in recent years, taking him from Black Rock desert to Australian beaches to the pyramids of Egypt. Known for chilled-out psychedelic dub beats on albums for  Six Degrees, Interchill and other labels, Gaudi has risen to the forefront of eclectic electronic music, alongside artists like Nickodemus, Pathaan, Kaya Project and others.

Over the past 30 years Gaudi has performed in live rock bands, released a dozen solo albums, remixed Bob Marley, and created an album of original music with unreleased multi-track vocals from Pakistani Qawwali master Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan. Gaudi’s last album, No Prisoners, was released in 2010; he doesn’t rush his output. Instead, traveling and transition are at the heart of his expansive and often collaborative recordings, music that has earned him a devoted international audience.

Gaudi’s extensive musical achievements, which include commercial productions for Sony, Fiat and Fiorucci, have made him known to both Burning Man types and industry execs alike. Both, apparently, trust his taste and discernment, whether he’s performing on the playa or composing car commercials. So it was no surprise that when I caught up with Gaudi via Skype he was in the green room on the set of the Italian version of The Voice, the famous syndicated TV singing competition, where he was to be a guest judge.

With an Italian-tinged British accent, Gaudi described his approach to music production, which, given his nearly 80-gig-per-year touring schedule, is remarkably still analog rather than laptop-based. In Between Times was recorded in his London studio filled with vintage gear, Moog synths, spring reverb and tape delay effects units, which Gaudi calls “a necessary environment” for his creative output. “My [music] ideas are totally connected to the sounds in my studio,” he explains. “The same idea made with a computer-generated synth would be totally different. I want to see and feel my music without watching a screen. I don’t want to program my music, I want to play it.”

Indeed, most of the gear in his studio is pre-MIDI era, including some special items, like a Fender Rhodes piano purchased from Bob Marley’s former backing band the Wailers. He admits that he does use laptops and a Dictaphone to capture sketches when he’s on tour, but now, celebrating his 30th year in music, he’s as adamant as ever about his methodology.

“Nowadays, making a song with technology takes seconds,” he says emphatically, “you have plenty of pre-set [sounds] and drum loops–you just assemble them, upload it, and it sounds killer.” He clarifies that he doesn’t think it’s wrong for others to make music solely with computers, but it’s not for him. “My way of creating music doesn’t always reflect today’s speed–that frantic velocity where everything needs to be done now. Fuck it! I spend three or four years every time I make an album,” adding, “I make music for one reason primarily: it makes me feel free.”

In Between Times packed with crisp, energetic songs that straddle the listening and dancing threshold. The opener, “Put Your Guns Down,” featuring former Black Uhuru vocalist Michael Rose, is a perfect blend of percussive house and steppers dub. Elsewhere, French reggae toasting talent Jahmai delivers rapid-fire verses over a hybrid hip-hop/dubstep beat. The set also includes evocative instrumental tracks that range from ambient dub to spacey electronica, and then there’s “Hurriya,” featuring Moroccan vocalist Tahar, “Babylon Is Fallin” with UK MC Deadly Hunta, and an utterly sublime collaboration with Lee “Scratch” Perry and The Orb titled “I Start To Pray.”

Although the instrumentals provide breadth, the guest artists show Gaudi’s mastery of cooperative music making.“[It’s] like when a good football team plays together, everyone can affect the outcome of the game,” he relates. “When I work with collaborators it’s like a team playing together, achieving the same final result.”

Gaudi

Take the Michael Rose track for example. Canadian dub producer Ryan “Twilight Circus” Moore introduced Gaudi to the singer. The original vocal was cut in a German studio. Gaudi took the acapella vocal to his studio, created a new original electronic backing track and presented the final result to Rose. “He was mega-ecstatic, so excited that he’s going to participate in a video that we’re shooting,” he says. “It was a similar approach to what I did with the Nusrat project, using the vocal and having total freedom to experiment.”

Similarly, Gaudi hooked up with longtime friend and fellow music traveler Raja Ram of TIP Records and psychedelic trance outfit Shpongle. After seeing each other at gigs throughout 2012, including at a performance during the lunar eclipse in Australia, they made their collaboration a reality when Ram came to London and tracked a memorable Middle Eastern flute solo on “Tamino and the Temple of Dub.”  The Australian eclipse event also inspired one of the album’s best instrumentals, “Subtle Obscurity,” which, Gaudi says, was finished quickly by his standards: “It took only two weeks.”

A turning point for Gaudi and his music came in December 2012, and ultimately provided the basis for the new album’s title. He was invited to perform at the pyramids in Giza, Egypt, and the significance of playing music at one of the Seven Wonders of the World during a moment when some claimed the Mayan calendar predicted the world would end was not lost on the producer. “[The pyramid] is one of the most powerful concentrations of energy on our planet,” he explains. “Something really intense happened to me.”

Meanwhile, back in Italy, his father was gravely ill and nearing death. “It was terrible seeing him like that. I wanted him to be with me, but on the other hand I wanted his pain to end,” he explains. He decided to synthesize the various points of transition into his art, thus In Between Times had both personal resonance as well as significance to the state of the world, music and technology.

That transitional vision is summed up on “I Start To Pray,” a co-production with The Orb and Lee “Scratch” Perry. The 70-year old Perry represents a link to original Jamaican dub music, while The Orb and Gaudi add their electronic techniques to the mix. And while Gaudi is very much a futurist, his process and inspiration go back to the roots. “My dub references are coming from King Tubby, Lee Perry and Scientist,” he explains, “but I’m not trying to recreate their sound. What the hell! It makes no sense; you can’t be better than the original.”

Like original dub music, Gaudi’s music takes the listener between the bass lines, leaving space for the nuance and color in his productions to emerge. He’s decided that while the computer offers endless synth, sample and rhythmic layering possibilities, often you can say more with less. “With all of the plug-ins and effects, the result is a wall of sound,” he explains. “There’s no time for the brain to filter it out. With the dub producers as a reference, I give the same importance to the silence between the notes as the notes themselves. I try to not oversaturate my sound with a thousand elements. That, to me, is an art nowadays. Music is beautiful, but silence is just as beautiful.”

Great Design: The Simonsound

From the album The Beam b/w In the Shadow of the Skylon:

The Simonsound, The Beam b/w In the Shadow of the Skylon 1

The Simonsound, The Beam b/w In the Shadow of the Skylon 3

The Simonsound, The Beam b/w In the Shadow of the Skylon 2

The Simonsound, The Beam b/w In the Shadow of the Skylon 4

The Simonsound, The Beam b/w In the Shadow of the Skylon 5

The Simonsound, The Beam b/w In the Shadow of the Skylon 6

It’s a Family Affair

Georgia Anne Muldrow and Dudley Perkins

“The music industry, like the food in grocery stores, is poisoned. People take these poisons willingly. Marketing will do that to you. Marketing will make you eat doo-doo, and doo-doo is what’s on the radio right now.”

Georgia Anne Muldrow and Dudley Perkins are not the first couple to live and make music together, but their righteous output and candid outlook on life (especially the state of the music business) sets them apart. Today marks the release of their new collaborative album The Lighthouse, the latest of 12 releases on their SomeOthaShip Connect label. “It’s like a guide,” says Dudley, about the title of the new record, “so people can see through all this dark stuff that’s going on right now. Unfortunately, here in America, we mostly we praise the darkness.”

I recently made a mid-morning call to the couple at their home in Las Vegas, and on-speaker phone I could hear their kids running around. Mom and Dad sounded relaxed and laid-back amidst the little ones’ excitement. “Georgia didn’t go to sleep ‘til 5am making music and recording,” explains Dudley. “We are parents, we look after the children, but otherwise we are recording.” After some casual chat our conversation takes off with Dudley leading the charge. Occasionally he sounds like a streetwise preacher and Georgia chimes in with a well timed “ya’ know it” when he hits a high point. Between them they drop a mix of inspiring insights, and well-thought-out rants about corporate America, war, and people’s listening habits. For me it becomes a fascinating, entertaining, and surprisingly motivational call, that reflects the messages in their music.

If cookie cutter soul or hip hop is your thing then SomeOthaShip Connect releases will not float your boat. “People say we make weird music, but we speak common sense – we make real hood music,” says Dudley. In Interplanetary Peace Talks, a documentary released about Dudley last year, there’s a scene in which they’re at Amoeba Records in Los Angeles. While his daughter is shopping for CDs, Dudley is calling out customers buying commercial hip hop: “get out of the dark section – they talk about you, they put you down…listen to something about compassion and good things,” he says. In the title track to Seeds, her fantastic, Madlib-produced, solo album released last year, Georgia sings, “Who’s going to look after the Seeds, We’ve taken more than we need.” From warfare to welfare, mother nature to raising children, their interests and subject matter run wide and deep. “It ain’t about poppin’ mollies, gold chains, runnin’ the streets and rollin’ up with 22s, it’s about oppression, welfare lines, rape, and abortion – that’s hood music. It’s not hard to speak on what you see, but people turn a blind eye.”

Dudley grew up with seven siblings, and was raised by his single mother in Oxnard, California. Hip hop became a major obsession in his life at a young age, but unfortunately he also got heavily involved in drugs, alcohol, and gangs. After high school, he went into the U.S. Navy serving during Desert Storm. He eventually left after realizing that the war was against his principles. Returning to the Los Angeles area he reconnected with childhood friends like Madlib, Oh No, DJ Romes, Kankick, and Wildchild. He was featured on the seminal Lootpack Soundpieces: Da Antidote album as an MC and also as illustrator of the album, which was released through Stones Throw Records. He went on to record for German hip hop label Good Vibe under the name Declaime, recorded solo soul records for Stones Throw, and made appearances on other labels.

Georgia was born in Los Angeles to a musical family. Her father was jazz musician Ronald Muldrow, a soul jazz and hard bop guitarist and a regular member of Eddie Harris’s band. Her mom, Rickie Byars-Beckwith, is leader of the Agape Choir and a noted spiritual teacher. Georgia left Los Angeles, to attend The New School’s jazz program in New York, where her fellow students included Blue Note artist Robert Glasper and singer Bilal. Eventually she would collaborate with up and coming producer Waajeed, appearing on his critically acclaimed Platinum Pied Pipers’ Triple P album. On 9/11 she was riding the NYC Subway underneath the World Trade Center and the events of that day led her to return to Los Angeles.

Dudley sought out Georgia after seeing her perform and asked her to feature on “Coming Home” from his 2006 release Expressions. They soon became a couple, and with Dudley’s encouragement Georgia became Stones Throw’s first female signee, releasing the soulful, wonderfully eccentric, and critically acclaimed Olesi: Fragments of an Earth album. Unfortunately subsequent struggles with alcoholism resulted in Dudley’s hospitalization, but the event became the catalyst for the couple to quit drinking, change their diets, and aim for a healthier lifestyle.

Georgia Anne Muldrow and Dudley Perkins

Keeping each other in check, building a family, and allowing room for each other to record, the two have become a powerful team. “We do this to have something of our own on this earth. Georgia Anne Muldrow and Dudley Perkins are a definitive brand, we’re the blueprint, you can only copy it,” says Dudley. “And that’s how we’re all supposed to be – a blueprint, an individual experience,” he adds.

They set up the SomeOthaShip Connect label in 2009 because they wanted to control their own music and masters, and had become fed-up with third-party label deals. “Sometimes you have no choice but to play with other labels to make a living. Some people look to blow-up and become famous right away with big label backing – and we’ve toyed with it, but it’s a crazy road to go down,” says Dudley. They signed a distribution deal with label manager Jay Devonish at Toronto-based eOne, and he aptly handles their day-to-day business. “I’m fascinated by them – musically and in general. They are two crazy creative cats who never cease to amaze me. They are smart and have amazing insight.”

While Jay watches the business, Georgia and Dudley have hit some high notes and bent listeners’ ears worldwide. They’ve played live in the Langa Township of Cape Town, South Africa. Georgia has collaborated and written for Erykah Badu. Mos Def was so inspired by her song “Roses” he licensed it to use on his benchmark Ecstatic album, and Georgia remixed Robert Glasper for his Grammy-winning Blue Note release last year. BBC DJ Gilles Peterson awarded  Ocotea, recorded by Georgia under her Jyoti moniker, Jazz Album Of The Year and praised their “stinging originality in a world of musical predictability,” and Canadian artist The Weekend recently sampled “The Initiation” from “Olessi” for The Trilogy. “Every day there’s something new with Georgia and Dudley. Their output is inspiring, and their message is needed right now,” says Jay. “They get the power of the music they are making – they want to wake people up.” Despite these recent achievements, Jay thinks there is still room to grow and reach their potential. ”They’re not there yet, but we’re on the right track,” he says.

In addition to their own label they occasionally release music on Mello Music Group. But otherwise the plan is to build a roster and continue pushing their sound and message on SomeOthaShip Connect. “It’s not our choice to not be on a major label, but we speak on things that major labels probably do not allow. We could disrupt their whole system. Their music is tainted and plays at a lower vibration. It’s made to keep the gods inside of us asleep,” theorizes Dudley. “The music industry, like the food in grocery stores, is poisoned. People take these poisons willingly. Marketing will do that to you. Marketing will make you eat doo-doo, and doo-doo is what’s on the radio right now.”

If you’re in the U.S.A., you can catch Georgia and Dudley perform at the following:

NY @ Brooklyn Bowl May 21

LA @ Low End Theory May 22

And also on Boiler Room TV on June 25

Totally Trippin’

Dexter

“I was thinking about calling the album Orange Peppermint Rainbow, but I was watching movies like Psyche Out, Hallucination Generation, Easy Rider and then The Trip. My album seemed like the audio version of the The Trip, and so the title was set.”

The Trip is Dexter’s eighteen-track psychedelic, beat-driven, two-and-a-half-years-in-production opus. To describe the German producer’s music as sample-heavy isn’t doing it justice – it’s totally loaded. Layers upon layers of psychedelic rock record samples melt over head nod-inducing beats, conjoined by drug-themed snippets from late 1960s movies, fuzz guitar riffs, vintage library record loops, and extracts from crackly sunshine pop LPs. Listening to the album from top to bottom is like watching a giant flower-power era jigsaw puzzle come together.

More than a single trip, the album is made up of a series of short diversions that Felix Göppel, aka Dexter, would prefer were inhaled back-to-back, as a whole, creating one giant mind-blowing musical journey. “I’ve always enjoyed albums like Quasimoto’s The Unseen or Lootpack’s The Antidote. The short tracks seemed more special and had clever interludes,” says Göppel. “I really like all the scene changes, it felt like listening to those albums took you on a journey.”

Despite the mass quantity of samples and the funky influence of 1960s drug culture, The Trip is not a nebulous hallucinogenic free-for-all. Göppel has a clean beat making style and his frequent edits keep the tunes moving at a pace that is swift but not dizzying. The continuous flow from track to track makes the album seem more like an amazing mixtape, or the recording of a perfectly executed DJ set (although it’d have to be a multiple turntable affair with the most dialed-in DJ ever). You can’t possibly hear every layer, fragment, twist, or turn in a single casual listen. The Trip demands a thorough and worthwhile examination to catch all the intricacies. “I think it’s a concept that is difficult for some people to grasp if they just read about it,” says Göppel, “but if you give it a try I hope it will be enjoyable, and maybe it will even open the door to listening to psychedelic music in general.”

When I asked about the connection between the music, the album title, and the 1967 Jack Nicholson movie of the same name, Göppel says he watched the film not long after making the album. He decided that the title for a movie about a guy (played in the film by Peter Fonda) who takes acid and takes multiple trips under the supervision of an LSD guru would also be suitable for his album. “I was thinking about calling the album Orange Peppermint Rainbow, or another strange name, but I was watching movies like Psyche Out, Hallucination Generation, Easy Rider and then The Trip. My album seemed like the audio version of the The Trip, and so the title was set,” he explains.

Göppel makes music as a hobby, working as a pediatrician at a hospital during the day. When his co-workers are enjoying time off, hiking or taking riding bikes, Dr. Dexter is digging for, sampling, chopping-up, and looping records about revolutions, San Francisco hippies, and getting high. Compounding the unlikely existence of this record, Göppel lives in Stuttgart, Germany, home to fancy car manufacturers Porsche and Mercedes. It may also have been close to the Black Forest HQ of famous 1960s German jazz label MPS, but Stuttgart has never been a hotbed for psychedelic music. However, Göppel’s father is a long time psychedelic rock fan, and influenced his son to become the same. A local record store enables his habit by importing vinyl rarities, and Göppel travelled to America and bought records while making the album. As such, the majority of the sample sources coloring The Trip are from the U.S.A., with some British and Brazilian pieces, too. “It would have been an even more nerdy project for me to try to make an album using only American samples, and also my tastes are wider than just that.”

There were so many samples collected to make The Trip Göppel can’t actually remember where some of the ones he used came from, and after amassing eighty rough draft tracks he had to cut down to the eighteen featured on the album. “I might buy lots of cheap records, sample tiny pieces of them, and then resell them,” says Göppel. “I definitely don’t buy and then keep everything I find, I’m pretty specific. I usually buy something I want to listen to and DJ with. My collection is few thousand vinyls deep, but not as big as some of my friends.”

Dexter's collection

Dexter's collection

The one original vocal cut on the The Trip is “Pictures” and features the smoky voice of Josa Peit, front woman for the awesome UK-based Nostalgia 77. It proved to be the most intensive piece of production on the album. “The other tracks are like moments I captured, but I tried to turn this one into a real song,” explains Göppel. “It’s not a strict arrangement, but it was definitely more time-consuming to put together.” Göppel is no stranger to collaboration; he has produced for multiple artists including the popular (Platinum selling) German rapper Cro.

When listening to The Trip I find myself catching references, and then playing an absorbing game of pulling apart the elements. Trying to figure out where pieces came from, if they’re manipulated, and how they’re all glued together. It’s part of the experience, and it’s also close to impossible to do. Göppel works using only Logic, adding a few effects, a touch of Minimoog, and occasionally pulls out his old Akai MPD sampler. “Mostly the album is just samples. Anything I played I tried to make sound like a sample, and I don’t think anyone can tell,” he laughs.

Rewind! The Cassette is Back.

Cassette tapes on bandcamp!

“The International Federation of the Phonographic Industry released their report of 2 million cassette tapes sold worldwide… Sales in the UK alone tripled last year.”


When I told my parents I was writing about cassette tapes they actually laughed at me. My dad is always very calm so his jokes tend to land hard: “I can go out to the garage and dig up your old Raffi tapes – you could write about that.” I admit it’s probably perplexing for hip baby boomer parents, who feel like it was just yesterday they bought you your first CD burner (remember those?). Growing up, I was either cherishing their beaten up vinyl collection or too busy spending their money on inkjet cartridges for custom CD-R labels to covet any real cassette tape collection. For me, tapes were just the lo-fi, unsexy middle period that I was born into. The cheap way to do storytime. And now that I think about it, Baby Beluga is probably among the last cassette tapes my parents ever bought. As teenagers we used our car tape decks, but only to plug in our Discmans or mp3 players. So what gives? Why are we talking about tapes again? And how is it possible that last month, the International Federation of the Phonographic Industry released their report of 2 million cassette tapes sold worldwide? Sales in the UK alone tripled last year.

Everyone who, like me, all but abandoned cassette tapes more than a decade ago, harbors several conceptions about tapes which, really, are misconceptions: Tapes are “lo-fi”; Tapes are clunky and ugly; Tapes are hinky and outdated; and bands who use tapes are pretentious and/or still in their “demo” stages. Well, guess what – all this conventional knowledge is wrong, and now that I’ve figured that out, I’m hoping to dispel these notions for you, too.

Let me take you first to the heart of Oakland, California, to a little urban cabin dwelling in a back lot off of 29th Street. This is where D Vikram Babu lives, in quiet comfort, with his stash. On the wall above his desk are more than 100 cassette tapes that he’s amassed just this year. Vikram calls himself Tape Famous, and has become an avid tape collector, as well as manager of a corresponding reviews blog. The rest of his collection is in storage in Ann Arbor, Mich., but he fancies the idea of starting from scratch. His room is tidy and impeccably organized, and there the tapes sit, in clean presentation, in a large pine wood storage display from the Napa Valley Box Company.

Vikram, Tape Famous

“When I look at that wall of tapes,” he says, “I can really make quick identifications. It’s even faster than vinyl because you have to flip through vinyl. But when I look at that, I know exactly what I’m feeling. I like that method of selection because it involves that sense of sight too. I don’t think scrolling through your computer is rich enough.” And it seems obvious now, watching him stand there before all the tape spines – in ranks, all facing at attention, thick, colorful, and boldly typefaced – this is the best way to survey a collection. Vikram, who is a web developer by day, has a large collection of mp3s which he listens to at work, but at home, his tapes are how he retreats from the digital world: “I actually find it less taxing. I’m not very good with names, so I find it easier just to look, and then stick a tape in.”

There’s this myth of tapes being lo-fi; it’s not only pretty much untrue, but tapes are laterally versatile in their own way. Professionally dubbed, or ProDub tapes (not the ones you’d buy in the store), come in different frequency ranges, the highest of which go up to 20,000 hz – if you require better than that you’re probably stressed out enough by your super-human ears anyway. Short of optimum frequency range, Vikram mentions how different kinds of tape can be used to different effects: “The highest frequency response ones they recommend for like, synthesizer music, whereas jazz you might get a different kind of tape. You don’t have that with CDs or vinyl, it’s just one kind of material. The tape itself changes how it sounds.” In addition to having the unique quality of being both a recording and a listening/consumer format, tape also requires a certain amount of forethought and creative planning. “There’s an end product in a way, whereas digital can seem so vast and editable. I know friends with Bandcamp sites who have altered tracks after they released them, and that’s ok, but you definitely have to make a commitment in order to finish a tape.”

“I’d loved the format ever since I was a kid, so there was some nostalgia involved.” Lars Gotrich is a producer, writer, and web editor at NPR Music in Washington, D.C., explaining his previous foray into releasing tapes. He’s a 6 foot-plus, mild-mannered guy with a long blonde mane and an encyclopedic knowledge of metal, noise, what he calls “outer sound,” and pop music. He’s also obsessed with tapes, and put out quite a few on his now dormant personal label, Thor’s Rubber Hammer. “I could say something about audio quality, I guess, and the object, but for me, it’s the artwork. I ended up falling in love with the cassette layout. That tall frame is weirdly inspiring, having to work within its ratio, and you get to extend the design in the foldout like a centerfold.” I told you tapes were sexy.

So what about the snobbery? Tapes are flimsy and can’t be expected to hold up for long, right? So aren’t these people just dabbling in an obsolete format, shunning the digital realm just to be different? Vikram shrugs and points out that tape dubbing is not expensive, and even professionals are used to dubbing for small scale operations, which makes it the ideal format for a limited release. Plus, most people he knows also want to distribute their music online – “People think tapes are anti-technology, but it’s more complicated than that.” This is where terms like “underground” and “DIY” start to come out, and sitting at the altar of Vikram’s tape collection, those terms don’t seem so overrated anymore.  For Vikram the dream is one of hyper-locality. He started collecting around the time that the phrase “Brooklynization” was coined to describe homogenized musical product. With tapes coming out on labels that pop up in the most random small towns of the world, he feels like he’s fighting against that.

Maybe protecting a cultural niche like this is important, and whether that’s called “being a snob” or “keeping it holy” can be for you to decide. You can tell that Gotrich, who’s been hoarding cassettes for years now, is wary of the new hike in popular music on tape: “Yeah, it’s been curious to watch the indie-leaning bands and artists embrace the cassette. It makes sense because it can be quite the twee object. But one time I read that Burger Records pressed 2500 cassette copies of a popular garage-rock band’s album and it sold out in no time. To me, that feels counter-intuitive to cassette culture. But you can’t get territorial about these things. It’s just another way to experience music is all.” When asked directly about snobbery in cassette collecting, he didn’t seem eager to galvanize any movements, “I don’t know, it’s no more snobby than someone that collects old arcade games, except that it’s a helluva lot cheaper and more mobile.”

As for durability, this might just be a PR problem – there are no longer any big ad agencies or marketing campaigns telling you “tape is the way of the future,” and Sony isn’t making tape players anymore, so how could it be durable? Vikram says even in the tech world tapes are still respected: “Even like 5 years ago there was a lot of discussion about whether DVD would be a proven format, and they were still backing up data on tapes because it lasts a really long time, and it does well in different conditions. It might seem a bit backwards because we don’t have as many tape players anymore but it’s a really robust format. I think it holds up better than CDs in a way because CDs scratch really easily and I’ve never had a CD that lasted in my car more than a few years, but I’ve seen tapes in a car that have been there for a decade.”

Gotrich recommends coming to terms with a few harsher realities: “In the long run, the physical thing that is the cassette is not durable. I still have some punk cassettes from high school and the actual tape is wearing out, warbling and thinning the sound. The hard plastic, though sturdy, can’t save those magnetic strips. In a way, it’s poetic — that literal fading away, perhaps as some metaphor for musical tastes and memories past. In another way, it’s impractical. But $4-$10 is a small price to pay for a tangible piece of music that will someday lose its memory.”

I’ve spent hours at Goodwill and Salvation Army, scouring racks of toasters, receivers, and grilled cheese makers from the nineties, hoping to find a workable player, though everyone I’ve bought has broken on me. And that may be the biggest obstacle for tape fanatics today. In Vikram’s arsenal, he’s got a few old players, a nice dual deck, but nothing really fancy. He hands me an old Sony Walkman that’s heavy and compact. “I think that one might be worth a couple hundred bucks on ebay,” he guesses, “but I haven’t spent more than like 20 dollars on all these players.” There’s an ethos to cassette tapes that’s a little more Zen and a little less about obsessive collecting. Above all it seems to be about enjoying the music and remaining low-key. And if you find yourself wanting a dependable tape player, his advice: “Buy Japanese.”

Wanna’ get caught-up on the cassette craze? Browse Bandcamp releases by cassette here.

In At The Kill

Kill Rock Stars label

“I was Googling Elliott Smith once and the suggestions from Google were rar, torrent, zip … but I think a lot of people who download just do it because it’s quicker than buying things, and now it’s easier for people to listen to and purchase the albums on our Bandcamp than it is to illegally download it.”

In a historic southeastern industrial district of Portland, Oregon, there’s a building called the Olympic Mills. It’s a hulking former cereal factory, taking up a whole city block and only describable as mustard yellow. Now sleekly renovated, the old mill is packed with many of Portland’s pioneers of new industry. It’s a very postmodern vision: an old factory that’s been gutted, shined up, and repurposed for office space, where most of the businesses push paper rather than products and craft e-mails instead of make widgets. There’s a company in this building that straddles that line nicely, though – one of the Pacific Northwest’s most important independent record labels: Kill Rock Stars.

When the UPS man shows up with new vinyl, often it’s Ben Parrish, integral executor of day-to-day business at KRS, who signs for it. Surprisingly, as Parrish told me, the turnaround time for vinyl is getting longer. “It’s been taking up to five months for us to get records pressed because so many people are putting out vinyl releases now, and there aren’t enough plants to handle the demand.” That makes planning physical releases a little more difficult. “We ordered an Elliott Smith 7” in October and didn’t get them until a few days before SXSW.” Luckily fans haven’t had to wait that long to hear the music. Using Bandcamp, KRS has been able to distribute releases digitally as soon as they’re ready – such as the legendary Smith’s Either/Or Alternate Versions. Parrish said they started using Bandcamp last year to share download codes for a new Horse Feathers album, “then we did those four Elliott songs in August and they did really well. People seemed very excited and kept asking us for more of the catalog, so I’ve been uploading a few albums a week for the past few months.”

Now that KRS has almost half of its massive discography uploaded – almost 150 albums  – the label is excited for what it means for listeners new and old, who can dive into albums they’ve either forgotten about or never heard. It’s also supported featuring the back catalog in new and interesting ways, like The Indie Years, a 74-track “digital box set” of every song Smith recorded for the KRS label. “I can’t imagine that we’d sell too many copies of a physical box set that doesn’t have any previously unreleased songs, and it seems like it might be unfair to ask people to – but it does seem fair to give people a discount if they want to download all of the Elliott Smith releases on KRS at once.”

It’s impressive to see old albums that the label championed early on – The Decemberists’ Castaways And Cutouts, Sleater-Kinney’s Dig Me Out, or Gossip’s Movement – but Kill Rock Stars isn’t relying on its back catalog. The most promising new star is Marnie Stern, who is widely known as “the lady who shreds,” or simply, Lady Shred. Performing with a rotating cast of characters from other KRS bands including Hella and The Advantage, Stern has released all four of her critically acclaimed albums on the label. When asked about his favorite part of working at the label, Parrish lit up and said, “when Marnie Stern sends us demos of new songs.”

Stern’s sound is feminine in the way that labelmates Deerhoof or Thao & The Get Down Stay Down can be feminine, but her music is also a rip-roaring attack of interlocking guitar, tapped riffs, and the relentless, convulsive rhythms of her math-rock peers. According to Parrish, who has been watching Stern evolve since her debut in 2007, her latest effort The Chronicles of Marnia is a beautiful display of how she’s changed as an artist. “It kind of sounds like what I’d assume Bill and Ted wanted their band Wyld Stallions to sound like in Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure. But if Bill and Ted were raised on Lightning Bolt instead of Iron Maiden.”

KRS is also pursuing new and different sounds. Hands, whose album Synesthesia is out this week, is a bit of a departure. A promising L.A. up-and-comer, Hands definitely begs its KRS brethren to look on the sunny side, with all of the usual northwestern punk angst overlying punchy and catchy dance pop. Then there’s Kinski, an older Seattle band that has also taken pride in evolution over the years. Comparing singer Chris Martin’s voice to Lee Renaldo of Sonic Youth, Parrish mused, “I had always wanted there to be a Sonic Youth album with the band just playing Lee’s songs… I think that’s the reason I like [Kinski] so much.”

Look again at Chronicles of Marnia’s Bandcamp page and you’ll notice tags that stick out – stuff like “rar,” “torrent,” and “zip.” Sure enough, Google those with the album title and the page shows up in the first couple of results – right there with Hasitleaked and Mediafire rip-offs. “I mostly put that in as a joke because I was Googling Elliott Smith once and the suggestions from Google were rar, torrent, zip,” Parish admitted, “but I think a lot of people who download just do it because it’s quicker than buying things, and now it’s easier for people to listen to and purchase the albums on our Bandcamp than it is to illegally download it.”

Kill Rock Stars also has the distinction of being on a very short list of indie record labels run by women. Portia Sabin, who took over the label when her husband Slim Moon decided to move to other endeavors after 15 years, moved the label in a simpler, more streamlined direction that has worked much to its benefit. Closing down noise and experimental label 5 Rue Christine and integrating its artists (like Xiu Xiu and The Advantage) into the KRS roster was part of it; cutting the fat and focusing more intently on the label’s most promising acts was the other part. It’s an “artist-friendly” model that both Sabin and Moon have underscored in interviews, one that involves supporting the artist’s entire career development rather than obsessing over individual record sales.

It’s easy to envision the “indie label” as just extending the grungy artist ethos  – maybe it’s run out of a bearded dude’s mom’s attic, a rat’s nest of CD stacks, broken bongs, and miscellaneous memorabilia. But KRS is a classy, grown-up operation, and over the course of 22 years and a couple significant moves, they’ve learned how to do things right. The Olympic Mills Commerce Center is a long way from their origins in Lacey, Wash.; the practice space on Sleater Kinney Rd. or the seedy underbelly of Bikini Kill’s “Carnival.” It’s also a way off from the hallowed, ashy Portland basement where Elliott Smith recorded Roman Candle after moving back from college. And it’s certainly nowhere near whatever clamoring, weird San Francisco hole Rob Fisk and Greg Saunier climbed out of to form Deerhoof. Yeah, the nineties may be over, but KRS hasn’t forgotten its roots, and despite growth, downsizing, streamlining, or restructuring, the label is still both pushing boundaries and staying clear about its purpose.

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