ROLLING WITH BIG BOY PT. 2

“I did the overnight show from 1 a.m. to 5 a.m., and Power liked it and asked me to do it again,” he remembers. “After the second night, they offered me the evening shift, which at that time was 7 p.m. to 11 p.m. The ratings were great, so they moved me to afternoon drive time, 3 p.m. to 7 p.m.”

With Big Boy’s popularity growing both in the streets and with advertisers, it wasn’t long before the station approached him about taking over the highly contested morning slot, radio’s Holy Grail, where most stations generate the lion’s share of their revenue.

“I didn’t want to do it,” he shrugs. “I was kicking ass on the air in the afternoons, I could go clubbing at night and sleep in the next day. It was a nice setup. But once I saw the competition of doing mornings, I got sucked in. There were a lot of people that said I couldn’t do it. So I did it not to prove them wrong, but to prove me right.”

With his morning show — a rollicking circus of prank phone calls, celebrity gossip and hip-hop hits — ruling the morning airwaves over the past eight years, Big Boy’s reign hasn’t gone unchallenged. The stiffest competition came in the form of popular black comedian Steve Harvey, who hosted the morning drive for Power 106’s most direct competitor at the time, The Beat 100.3 FM, starting in the autumn of 2000.

“It wasn’t a problem,” Big Boy says with a dismissive wave. “I’ve always had other stations put up programming to ‘get me,’ on every shift I’ve worked. The mornings have been no different. Steve was the guy, and he hit the ground running. But Steve never fell into any of the media bullshit; neither did I.” Big Boy vehemently denies rumors of friction.

“Steve is like my brother. He brought a class to L.A. radio. He respected me and I respected him. The only problem for me was that he couldn’t be on my show anymore. There’s enough money and people out here in L.A. for everybody.” (The Beat has since switched formats; Harvey, now based in New York, hosts a nationally syndicated morning show aired locally on KDAY-FM.)

Around that same time, Power 106 debuted the first of an ongoing series of notorious billboards to promote Big Boy’s morning show. It featured the eye-popping image of the DJ wearing nothing but silk boxer shorts under the title “Morning Obsession,” a parody of the day’s Calvin Klein cologne ads.

“Even now, I still trip out when I see [my billboards]. I never get used to that feeling, and I hope I never do.”

It was early 2002 when Will Smith visited Big Boy’s Neighborhood. At one point during the show, Smith confronted Big Boy about his health. When the DJ laughed off the warning, Smith got serious with him off the air.

“Will was like, ‘But what about your heart, Big?’ He was really concerned.”

But his size didn’t bother Big Boy in the least. “I’ve never been unhappy in my skin. I was always the big dude you wanted to be around, that had ladies and was happy. I was never at home being sad about being fat or getting teased. I never got teased, though, because kids knew I’d crack their teeth out,” he guffaws with a sly grin. “I was able to accommodate for my size; it never slowed me down, even at 510 pounds. If I needed a suit, I could have one made. If I needed a car, I just got a truck.”

Eventually, he struck a deal with Will Smith. Smith would pony up $1,000 to charity for every pound Big Boy lost, initially challenging him to shed 50 pounds. He dropped from 510 to 399 through a stringent diet and regular exercise. But like so many before him, he slowly began to put weight back on. With the pounds came new and unforeseen health issues.

“I’d been plus-sized ever since I was 5 years old. I never had high blood pressure, diabetes, none of that shit. But when I lost so much weight and started putting it back on, it was a shock to my system. There were times my legs would go numb. I couldn’t even walk through the airport without having to stop and rest. I’d never noticed my weight before. Now it felt like I was wearing a fat suit. I started to feel real, real bad, to the point where I thought I was going to die. That’s when I realized that if I wanted to live, I would have to do something fast. I didn’t care if it jeopardized my status as ‘Big Boy.’ ” Soon, he was considering gastric bypass surgery.

“I didn’t tell anybody that I was even thinking about it, not even my family. I spent a good eight months researching it. One night at the movies, this guy approached me and was like, ‘Do you remember the big guy from Varsity Blues?” referencing the 1999 teen “dramedy” starring Dawson’s Creek figurehead James Van Der Beek; the heavyweight was Ron Lester. “I thought he was going to tell me that he’d died, since that’s always what happens with the big guys,” Big Boy mutters ominously. “Ron Lester had lost 350 pounds after getting the surgery, and that’s who I was talking to. I didn’t recognize him, because he’d lost so much weight. We became fast friends, and one day we stayed on the phone for three hours talking about it. That’s when I decided to do it. I got with a doctor in Georgia, who pushed me to the front of a waiting list of over a year. When he called me with a date, it was only two weeks in advance. That’s when I told my family.”

ROLLING WITH BIG BOY PT. 3

In Georgia, Big Boy underwent the somewhat controversial procedure known as the duodenal switch, where not only is the stomach reduced, but the intestines are also rearranged in such a way that most food calories aren’t absorbed.

“I told myself that all I had to do was wake up,” Big Boy says of the operation. “When I woke up and none of my dead homies were there, I knew it was all good.”

Complications still linger more than three and a half years later. But Big Boy’s condition is nothing like it was in the months immediately following the procedure.

“I couldn’t stop losing weight. I’d get lockjaw and a bad taste in my mouth. I was fainting a lot. I just started to decline. My body couldn’t hold any proteins or nutrients. When I’d sit down, I could feel the pain in my back from the bones being so brittle. One time on the air, I just blacked out and busted my head open on the console. I’d gone from morbid obesity to malnourished.” While his smile never falters, it’s obvious the experience weighed heavily on him.

“There were times I was so out of it that the producer would position the microphone so I could lay on the floor of the studio to do my job. I’d be so delirious I would drive to work and not know how I got there. I had to have a catheter put into my chest to pump nutrition directly into my body. That went on for like two months. It was so bad I couldn’t see a light at the end of the tunnel. I was always in the hospital.” One particular stay provided the clarity and motivation to stay focused through recovery.

“I was taking a walk through the ward, dragging the IV bag with me on the stand like Tony Soprano, and I was noticing that everybody else was older. So I was throwing myself a pity party, really feeling sorry for myself for being so messed up so young. I heard an emergency over the intercom, and doctors and nurses all started running to this one room. When I looked inside, there was a woman there on a bed, and someone was pumping her chest, and her family and doctors were all there, and her eyes and mouth were wide open. But she just looked dead. In that moment, I realized that I didn’t have any problems. This lady wished she could walk around the hospital dragging an IV.”

Ultimately, Big Boy had part of his gastric bypass surgery undone just to allow his body to sustain itself.

“I would never, ever advise anyone to get the duodenal switch,” he sighs wearily. “A doctor said I was that one-in-a-thousand case, but damn.”

Big Boy’s postsurgery illness forced him to put the brakes on a growing side career in movies (Charlie’s Angels 2, Deuce Bigalow: Male Gigolo) and TV, such as Entourage and Fastlane, Fox’s bombastic but short-lived action drama directed by McG. “If that show came out now, it would work,” Big Boy insists. “We were just a little ahead of the curve on that one.” Still, he’s been able to press forward with a syndicated radio show, Big Boy’s Hip-Hop Spot. But his loyalty lies with Power 106, and the citywide sea of listeners who tune in daily despite much ado about the medium’s long-predicted demise.

“Radio is like home. You can always come back to it. We’ll leave the light on for you,” he deadpans in his best Tom Bodett. “It comes down to personality and appeal. Radio will be here, even in spite of satellite. People already have more than enough stuff to pay for. Look at Howard Stern, who had 12 million listeners on radio. He doesn’t have a third of that on satellite. He blames the listeners, when it’s him that left them.”

For an accidental career, radio has served Big Boy well, and he knows it. He’s racked up a serious cache of accolades, including Personality of the Year three times at the Radio Music Awards. There are also two Marconi Radio Awards, considered the Oscars of radio, from the National Association of Broadcasters. And despite professions that he wasn’t so deep into it growing up, he has a solid knowledge of Los Angeles’ radio history and is quick to give respect where it’s due.

“I come from the school of originality, the days of KDAY with Russ Parr in the morning, who had great alter-ego characters like ‘Bobby Jimmy’ ” — a possible precursor to Big Boy’s own phone prankster, “Luther Luffeigh.”

“Back in the day, Power 106 was all alone where the industry was concerned, because we focused on hip-hop,” says Big Boy. “We were like the bad boys of L.A. radio for playing the music of the streets. They said we’d never be able to build anything in sales because of it. Now, everybody’s playing hip-hop. But what’s happened is that everybody’s on the same songs. If you hear a classic Tupac record on the radio, it could be Power-106, KDAY, KIIS, Jack, the Beat, any of us. It’s not like I can and you can’t, but not everyone can do it like me. So it comes down to which one you choose to push that button for you. Is it Big Boy or Ryan Seacrest? Tom Joyner? The choice is yours.”

Big Boy has made his own choice. In the studio, huge picture windows offer an impressive view of the mountains looming in the distance. He’s now engaged to his longtime girlfriend (after proposing onstage at a Mariah Carey contest no less), who stood by him through all the drama and gave birth to their son in February. Big Boy leans back in his chair and shoots a broad smile. “This is the life, right?”

Incoming: Trans Am, Zombi, Black Taj at the Troubadour, Friday 4/20

Hey! You got your post-rock in my Krautronica! Trans Am’s expansive brand of lockstep guitar vs. synth discipline sounds refreshingly progressive alongside the current glut of indie-sanctioned angularity. Never afraid to completely switch shit up in pursuit of something entirely “other,” this D.C. trio’s latest, Sex Change (Thrill Jockey), plays as their most user-friendly set yet, getting down like Tortoise on half a hit of E, “Trans-Europe Express” and a copy of Rush’s Exit Stage Left. Definitely get there in time to catch Pittsburgh analog twins Zombi, whose multi-textured dream of shimmering ’80s keyboard sunsets are enough to make Jean-Michel Jarre proud and Jan Hammer shed tears of jealousy. Think Miami Vice for 2012. Old-school college-rocker alert: D.C.’s Black Taj features two former members of ’90s Merge Records heroes Polvo indulging their inner stoner. It is 4/20, after all.

(Originally published in the LA Weekly, 04/07)

Incoming: Muse at The LA Forum, Tuesday, 4/10/07

Invoking Queen at their most grandiose and Radiohead set on “rawk!” (singer Matthew Bellamy sounds eerily like Thom Yorke), U.K. mega-rockers Muse make monolithic music designed to reach the farthest corners of an arena, so the Forum is an ideal setting for the band’s bombast. Their latest, Black Holes & Revelations, elevates the sound to even higher heights, featuring the most ambitious song to shake “modern” rock radio last year, the galloping “Knights of Cydonia.” Setting their tunes to lyrics about aliens and conspiracy theories, it’s a wonder this deceptively diminutive trio aren’t superstars in America. But with most stateside dates (including this one) solidly sold out, maybe they already are.

(Originally published in the LA Weekly, 4/07)

I Was There: TV on the Radio at the Fonda, 3/31/07

For me, TV on the Radio is one of those bands. For all intents and purposes, you could really just say they are that band. Their music is a truly visceral experience, somehow crystallizing so many personal thoughts, feelings and emotions that are perpetually elusive, impossible to put into simple words. It sounds pretentious I know, but it’s the truth. They turn me into a perpetual 15-year-old obsessive fan, never quite getting enough of "that feeling" their music instills in me.

A lot of it has to do with my history with the band. I won’t bore you with the details, but I will say that I had the honor of writing and securing their first national magazine cover story as well as booking them for a Coachella after-party that same year (when they should have been on the bill – but that’s a whole other story).

The first time I ever saw them play was at the tiny Silverlake Lounge. It was their first ever show in LA, and for the few dozen people in attendance nothing short of magical. Playing in support of their lush debut EP Young Liars, the band's sampler had been smashed in transit from Europe. So they just turned up the guitars and improvised. Noisy? No doubt. In the best way possible.

It’s been three full years since all of that went down, and a lot has changed. TVOTR is no longer the golden boys of indie label Touch and Go, but part of the massive Interscope roster alongside the likes of Pussycat Dolls and Black Eyed Peas. Their two-night stand at the 1200-person capacity Henry Fonda Theatre here in LA has been sold out for weeks, the result of their second album Return to Cookie Mountain residing at or near the top of most notable year-end best-of lists in 2006, and for good reason. But enough ink has been spilled regarding its brilliance, so again I’ll spare you.

Through nothing less than an act of God, a ticket for the second show found its way into my hands on a couple of weeks ago. I’m still not quite sure how it happened, but I’m not questioning it. Just color me extremely grateful.

Standing in line outside the Fonda tonight waiting to get in, Kyp Malone and a girl strolled by, virtually unrecognized by a majority of the people waiting with me. It speaks volumes about the band’s newly expanded audience, as far removed from the original crowd of diehards as possible. Like the three frat boy-types (or "dudebros," as Leslie would call them) standing behind me waiting for them to come on that took turns screaming “TV ON THE RADIO – WOOOOOO!” at the top of their drunken lungs, much to the amusement (OK, try annoyance) of the people around them. One was clutching the dainty hand-printed TVOTR record bag stuffed with t-shirts, all purchased at the merch booth. Say huh? Ah, enough of my prejudices. Dudebros can like good music too, right?

After an impressive set by UK trio the Noisettes, my new frat buddies got their wish. TVOTR came on and started slowly with a soulful version of “Young Liars,” perfectly setting the stage for the many high points to follow. Many of the mellower songs from Cookie Mountain especially shined, like “Wash The Day” and “Dirtywhirl,” with vocalist Tunde Adebimpe riding the beat like a surfer, soaring all over and around the shimmering sounds with unbridled emotion. Even older songs like “Dreams” took on new life tonight, powered by Adebimpe’s endless reserve of energy, shaking and dancing to the music like a man possessed. I notice that the girlfriend of one of the dudebros is singing along to the songs word for word, eyes closed, lost in the sound.

When the band really turned up the heat, the results were nothing less than religious. “Wolf Like Me” roared with a ferocity only hinted at on the album, as did a storming take on “Satellite.” The band seemed particularly inspired, adding even more layers of beauty and noise atop the tunes, creating a gorgeous maelstrom of epic proportions.

They encored with a beat-crazy exploration of “A Method,” utilizing a slew of added percussionists from their backstage crew, including a couple of girls that had stood next to me for most of the set. But it was a monstrous, muscled-up tear through their signature song “Staring at the Sun” that brought it all together: the melody, the passion, the heart and the art.

God bless TV on the Radio. Never lose that feeling.

Incoming: TV on the Radio, The Noisettes at Henry Fonda Theater, 3/30-31

There’s ample reason why tickets for TV on the Radio’s obscenely sold-out shows are the hottest this city has seen in eons. While the stunning headphone opus Return to Cookie Mountain ruled the Pitchfork Nation (and beyond) in 2006, there are still legions of freshly minted fans who have yet to experience the band live, especially here in L.A., where their only local appearance in support of it (outside of an Amoeba freebie) was a simmering campfire of a show at the Hollywood Bowl opening for Massive Attack (a fruitful match, as TVOTR’s production mastermind David Sitek is producing M.A.’s upcoming album). Their reputation as an incendiary powder keg live precedes them, and rightfully so. The world needs a band like TVOTR — who are equal parts art and heart — now more than ever. U.K. thrash-bashers the Noisettes open, getting down like a multiracial Yeah Yeah Yeahs, with singer Shingai Shoniwa as the black Karen O.

(Originally published in the LA Weekly, 3/07)

Incoming: Gym Class Heroes, RX Bandits, K-OS, P.O.S. at House of Blues, 3/26

With the stoned cadence of Sublime, a self deprecating sense of humor like the Pharcyde and that old-school hip-hop fun-time attitude, a band like Gym Class Heroes (pictured) breaking out was inevitable. It’s amazing there isn’t one on every American college campus. But few would be savvy enough to hijack the chorus of Supertramp’s 1979 smash “Breakfast in America” and flip it for the new scene, as they do on hit single "Cupid's Chokehold." Having Fall Out Boy’s Patrick Stump sing it for you helps too (the band is signed to Pete Wentz’s Decaydance label). For this “Daryl Hall for President” tour, GCH bring Seal Beach punk-poppers RX Bandits to make like Incubus for boys, while Canadian indie hip-hop hero/current blog sensation K-OS brings quirky but thoughtful raps to the party. Minneapolis punk rock rapper P.O.S. spits in the style of early Eminem over mosh-pit guitar tracks. Crazy sold out. Kids rule.

(originally published in LA Weekly, 3/07)

Incoming: Heavens, Boom Bip at the El Rey, Sunday 3/25

A collaboration between Thieves Like Us’ Josiah Steinbeck and Alkaline Trio’s Matt Skiba, Heavens (pictured) conjure dreamy post-rock rife with midperiod Depeche Mode inflections and subdued but tangible emo sentiments. Their latest, Patent Pending (Epitaph), has echoes of Interpol’s stark minimalism but is more deeply rooted in late-’80s alterna-pop bands like the Church and Echo & the Bunnymen. The title track even steps it up with an indie dance-floor stomp like Bloc Party’s second album never happened. Heavens would’ve ruled the second 60 of MTV’s 120 Minutes. Cincinnati expat Boom Bip generally uses electronics to imagine misty, organic re-creations of ’70s SoCal mellow rock with nods to Can and Fairport Convention. But previews of his upcoming One of Eleven EP find him raving to propulsive, post-Aphex Twin beats. Go figure.

(Originally published in the LA Weekly, 3/07)

LCD Soundsystem: Sound of Silver (DFA/Capitol)

Remember when disco sucked? There was a time when no self-respecting rockist would dare acknowledge any sounds directed at a dance floor. Drum machines were considered pure evil, and not in that cool, devil-horns Black Sabbath kind of way. It was serious business; Queen lost legions of American fans for writing “Another One Bites The Dust,” and KISS was crucified for “I Was Made For Lovin’ You.” LCD Soundsystem mastermind James Murphy definitely remembers thinking disco sucked. And he’s very, very sorry.

There’s a particular liberation at the heart of Sound of Silver, the result of Murphy and his merry band of post-punk-funk disco infiltrators fully realized. It’s the sound of someone who didn’t discover the power and glory inherent in dance music’s finest moments until just recently. It’s the sound of someone taking E for the first time in their late 20s and hearing a Carl Craig record from the mid-’90s and having a genuine epiphany. When the tyranny of the beat strikes back, it’s one harsh mistress.

All reasons why Sound of Silver is the best dance record for people that don’t like dance music in years. Where LCD’s eponymous debut felt oddly restrained, as if Murphy was too self-conscious to really fly his freak flag (and was totally outshined by the bonus disc of his own formative singles), SOS is a sweaty, uninhibited shimmy and shake, like the drunken wallflower dancing like a fiend all by himself in the middle of the floor and going home with the hottest girl in the room.

Like any self-respecting music geek worth his 12-inch collection, Murphy’s reference points are both astute and a little obvious. He makes quantum leaps on the aptly-titled opening number, “Get Innocuous,” referencing a wide sonic swath that includes Lodger-era Bowie, Kraftwerk, and even his own music snob-baiting early single, “Losing My Edge,” in just over seven propulsive minutes. “Time to Get Away” rides a snotty, Jonathan Richman with a cool kid swagger attitude and gratuitous cowbell beats, while sure-shot single “North American Scum” turns the self-loathing hipster stance into a Jesus Christ pose and makes it sound like the best party ever. The jumpy, piano-powered “All My Friends” is the most majestic moment LCD’s committed to software yet, a slow-burning crescendo that crashes with the force of Arcade Fire at their most epic.

After a dubious but effective take on funky Gang of Four (the title track), Sound of Silver ends on an oddly earnest ode to Murphy’s home city with the wobbly ballad “New York I Love You But You’re Bringing Me Down” like he’s the Morrissey of Brooklyn or something. Oh Williamsburg, so much to answer for…

(An abridged version of this review was published in the LA Weekly, 3/07)

I Was There: Amy Winehouse at The Roxy, 3/19/07

I guess you could call it pure, dumb luck. It just so happened that I heard about the Amy Winehouse show at the Roxy a couple of hours before my man Jeff Weiss informed me that she was also scheduled to play at Spaceland. Given my druthers, I would’ve purchased a ticket to see her in the much smaller Spaceland. But in my haste to secure a chance to see this notorious UK train wreck up close and personal like, I’d already laid my good money down for the Roxy show. In hindsight, I inadvertently made the right choice, since Ms. Winehouse famously bailed on the Spaceland gig.

I got to the Roxy a good 20 minutes before she took the stage, and I can honestly say I’ve never seen such an intense scrum up in that joint. It was packed to the back with an interesting array of Los Angelenos, skewing older than I’d expected.

Worming my way towards the front of the room, I found a choice spot maybe five feet from the stage, off to the right. A very drunk girl stumbles into me, pausing to take off her high heels. Oh boy, here we go. An older couple behind me is drunkenly making out, repeatedly ramming into my back. Really? The things I do for music.

When the lights finally dim and the curtains open, a surprisingly together looking Winehouse saunters up to the microphone to the strains of the Chiffons “He’s So Fine,” looking oddly sexy (skinny legs and all) in a blue prom dress that put her cleavage up front and center and showcased her bevy of tattoos. There were no signs of track marks or “meth skin” to be seen anywhere. She didn’t even appear to be drunk. What gives?

Backed ably by retro R&B outfit the Dap-Kings, our girl sailed through most of Back to Black admirably; her husky croon sounding even stronger than it does on the record. Her voice shined on mid-tempo numbers like the reggae-tinged “Just Friends,” but really soared on the barn-burners like “You Know I’m No Good.” What’s especially impressive is the way she attacks high notes, filling them with pure emotion, the total opposite of showboats like Christina Aguilera who completely overdo it with ridiculous trills and runs that never seem to stop.

Sliding in a verse of Lauryn Hill’s “Doo Wop (That Thing)” into “He Can Only Hold Her,” it was hard to miss the irony. Is Winehouse destined for a similar crash-and-burn like the one that beset Ms. Hill? Given her raw talent and limitless potential, I certainly hope not.

She’s comfortable and self-assured onstage. After announcing the evening’s last song to a boisterous chorus of “No!” she joked with the crowd:

“Well, obviously it’s not the last song. We still have to do the encores. I’m just playing the game up here, all right?”

There were a few other interesting, very human moments. She visibly got bored in the middle of a set-closing “Rehab,” only to dig deep and find an inspiration from who knows where to inject the song with a shocking blast of life. It was a moment that completely endeared her to me. She could’ve just as easily dialed it in, since the rabid crowd was eating up her every move, but she didn’t.

By the time I maneuvered my way outside after the show (bumping into Strokes drummer/Drew Barrymore’s ex-boy-toy Fab Moretti along the way), I found myself calling various connections to score a ticket for the Spaceland show. Amy Winehouse was nice enough to see twice. But we all know how that ended up…

(Photo courtesy of the one and only Marc Goldstein. Thanks Marc - you're a prince)

Fascination Street: Robert Smith on Miami

"Over the years, we've always had a great time in Miami. The Cure has a really strong following there. When we first started coming to America, we didn't play there for years, because certain promoters told us that no one would like us in the city. But when we did, the fans were really rabid and intense. It was overwhelming and we were amazed by the reaction. Now we make sure to play there on every American tour. A few years back, I spent a few days in an achingly hip hotel right on the beach, a quite famous one. I think it was the Tides. There was a jazz band and people rollerblading outside. Everyone was beautiful and it really upset me [laughs]. The combination of pretty people and sunshine really does something bad to my self-esteem. I imagine the Cure would be a very different kind of band if we'd originated in Miami."

(Originally published in the Miami New Times, 3/07)

Just Like Heaven: Miami's Ultra Music Festival grows and surprises

While the American dance scene has in many ways cooled from the peaks of the late Nineties, it's also adapted to fit into the fast-forward culture of today. With mix CD and especially 12-inch sales virtually nonexistent, dance fans have instead emphasized the experience. Just ask anyone stuck at the back of a blocks-long line to get into a club featuring Paul van Dyk or Armin Van Buuren on the decks. Miami's eight-year-old Ultra Music Festival — which adds a second day this year — simply represents the DJ side of America's current festival fascination, a phenomenon in which fans have followed Europe's lead and now travel many miles and spend many dollars just to say that they were there. Coachella, Bonnaroo, Lollapalooza, and Ultra all benefit from this eagerness to turn the music experience into a sonic vacation.

"Back when we started in 1999, I was promoting big dance music events around town," says Ultra founder and executive producer Russell Faibisch. "I'd met up with my current partner, Alex Omes, who owned DVOX magazine, a nightlife/dance music publication. We became best friends and started doing events together. Through our passion for the music, we decided to do something really massive in Miami, which was the first Ultra, a beach party that drew 7000 people. Year after year, it's just blossomed out of control. From that first year, we grew to 15,000 the next year, then 23,000, to this year where we're expanding to two days and expect upwards of 50,000 people."

"It's the only festival like it in the States. There's nothing you can really compare it to," says Tom Holkenborg. Better known as the adventurous Dutch DJ/producer Junkie XL, Holkenborg has played Ultra several times and witnessed the event's evolution into a smooth-running production. With an obvious sense of humor, he notes that it wasn't always that way.

"I was playing the main stage at 8:00 p.m., prime time. It was maybe the festival's second year," he remembers. "I went on and everything was happening and the crowd was really into it. It was great. Then about ten minutes in, a certain bodyguard, for some unknown reason, decided that my set was over. There was a huge commotion, and he threw me with my equipment offstage. The crowd didn't know what was going on. The police were called, and in all of the hysteria the guard that threw me off ended up getting beaten up by a bunch of the other security guards.

"It was a huge, crazy scene," he marvels. "Let's just say that things at Ultra now are much more organized than that."

Now that it has found sure footing, Ultra has widened its scope to include more acts outside of the dance music mainstream, from last year's headliners the Killers, to this year's inclusion of such bands as Shiny Toy Guns, and the jaw-dropping and inspired booking of alt-rock legends the Cure to close out the opening night.

"Well, we were asked and we said yes," chuckles Cure frontman, Robert Smith (pictured), of the origins for this curious choice. "We're excited to play Ultra. It's a one-off, and we're treating it as a special show. We're going to do a special set for it, playing songs we wouldn't normally play. It's a challenge, and I think it'll be an enjoyable experience for everyone."

As Smith further explains, it's actually not that much of a stretch for the band to headline. "The connection between the Cure and dance music is and always has been a good one," he says. "Going back to the early Eighties, we've always had twelve-inch remixes and got lots of play in the hip and happening clubs. Then Paul Oakenfold remixed our single 'Lullaby' in 1989, which was hugely popular in Ibiza that summer. That's when we first really became aware of the DJ/dance movement as a thing. The following year we put out an album called Mixed Up, which was a collection of various Cure remixes. I was just really drawn into it, and have retained that feeling ever since.

"Not being able to dance has always hampered my true enjoyment of it though," he adds, laughing.

But dance fans needn't worry that Ultra is moving away from its DJ-driven core. "We'll never do anything to change our focus," promises promoter Faibisch. "The Cure are legendary, and we're honored to have them on the bill. But for Ultra it's about the DJs, which is why we've been fortunate to have Paul van Dyk — the DJ's DJ — close the festival every year since the beginning. It's a tradition we hope to maintain for as long as the festival is in effect."

At this point, all visible signs point to Ultra's longevity, with additional future events planned for Los Angeles and New York. And it appears as though it might even help to spur on other festivals in this country.

"I do know there are going to be a couple of new ones springing up here in America that are using Ultra as a model, so you can say it's become very influential as well," notes Junkie XL. "It's much closer to European fests like Homelands, Dance Valley, and all of the rest. Given that dance music is a much more underground scene in America, the fact that Ultra exists and is successful is really important and special. It just gets better each year. The crowds continue to grow, and the lineups have evolved to reflect the way music changes."

Ultra Music Festival takes place on Friday, March 23, from 4:00 p.m. to midnight and Saturday, March 24, from noon to midnight at Bicentennial Park, 1075 Biscayne Blvd, Miami. Tickets for Friday cost $59.95, tickets for Saturday cost $74.95, and two-day passes cost $119.90. Visit www.ultramusicfestival.com.

(Originally published in the Miami New Times, 3/07)

Incoming: Sondre Lerche & Willy Mason at El Rey Theatre - Tonight (3/21)

It’s boys with guitars and emotions on parade when these heartfelt folkies come together. Norwegian jangle-maker Sondre Lerche (pictured) has been strumming his clever guitar pop for a few albums now, but his latest, Phantom Punch, is packed with surprises. Gone are the easy, gentle breezes of early tunes, replaced by a manic, borderline punk crunch atop his trademark melodies. Willy Mason is the current sensation, trading in the kind of classic, socially aware folk you’d expect from a kid raised by musician types on Martha’s Vineyard. He was discovered by the keen ears of Bright Eyes’ Conor Oberst, and his worldly, husky croon already has the Brits calling him the latest “new Dylan” — none less than Radiohead handpicked him to open a series of dates. His recently released If the Ocean Gets Rough adds a warm, ornate edge that should further endear him to the NPR set.

(Originally published in the LA Weekly, 3/07)

Incoming: The Presets, Crystal Castles at the Echo's Ex_Plx, Saturday March 17

Just don’t call it “nu-rave” (didn’t we learn anything from electro-clash?). Wizards of Oz (as in Australia) the Presets are a frantic pair of funbots determined to make you dance your skinny little ass off. Julian Hamilton and Kim Moyes started out as mild-mannered classical buffs at Sydney’s Conservatorium of Music before the disco bug bit. It’s been a nonstop erotic cabaret ever since, with the daft duo crafting spastic blasts of dance commands and assailing audiences with notoriously energetic live shows. Their latest LP, Beams, percolates with fuzz-buster freak-outs like “Are You the One?” imagining the Faint soundtracking a Saturday-morning cartoon. Toronto’s equally electrified 8-bit babies (and potential show-stealers) Crystal Castles (pictured) can glitch and bliss out with the best of them, evidenced by their incendiary remix of the Klaxons’ “Atlantis to Interzone” and circuit-breaking track “Alice Practice."

(Originally published in the LA Weekly, 3/07)

El-P: The ISWYD Outtakes

After finishing my most recent piece on El-P for Remix, I had a few extra quotes left over. I thought they might of interest to his fans. Take it away, sir...

“I certainly don’t carry the mantle for justice in hip-hop, but I do feel like there’s a lot of bullshit out there. For what it’s worth, I bust my ass to try and make sure I’m coming up with something tangible that people can connect to. With (I’ll Sleep When You’re Dead), I tried to dig in a little further to capture a moment. Music, the whole entertainment industry in general, really is just not important enough in and of itself. It’s been kind of shocking to me just how much we pretend that shit is going according to plan, when it’s obviously not. I’m not here to bring gloom and doom to the world, but at the same time, I’m just trying to be honest about what I see around me. As a fan, I’m always craving for someone to stick his or her necks out as an artist. If I can do that to some degree I will, but I really want to hear it from other people.”

About the song "Habeas Corpses (Draconian Love)":
That was something that came together with (Definitive Jux rapper) Cage. I forget what we were talking about, but I wanted to write a song that was incredibly dark and kind of humorous at the same time. We were just fucking around and for no reason at all I started singing the line “I found love on a prison ship.” That’s what sparked it off. We put ourselves in the perspective of a firing squad guy, and since everything already thinks I’m a sci-fi geek, which I am, we set the whole thing in the near future. For me, it was a way to make a political commentary without just saying ‘Look – the government is bad! George Bush hates you!’ He does hate you, but nobody needs me to tell them that. So we came up with this demented idea that in ten years, if there was marshal law and people were being rounded up, as there very well could be in my opinion, the good jobs would be the cop jobs. It’s kind of inspired by the movie Brazil. The idea that being an executioner in that world would be a job that a lot of people would want, the kind with insurance and benefits. Cage took the perspective of a guy that would enjoy the job, while I took the character of a guy that was involved in it, but started to feel bad because he felt some emotion towards one of the prisoners. I wrote the music to reflect those sorts of conflicting moods.”

Incoming: Get Cape. Wear Cape. Fly. at the Echo, Tuesday, March 13

Maybe if James Joyce were alive today, he’d be making music instead of writing books, and A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man might sound a lot like the songs conjured by Get Cape. Wear Cape. Fly on the fantastic album The Chronicles of a Bohemian Teenager. This barely-out-of-his-teens Londoner was born Sam Duckworth before discovering his eye-catching alias in a Batman video game. The guitar-slinging troubadour pushes the singer-songwriter model into the 21st century, fully equipped with a laptop loaded with skittering, nervy beats that wouldn’t sound out of place on a Björk record. He freely flaunts his personal as well as politically charged influences (e.g., Billy Bragg), but always with the uplifting, life-affirming optimism that comes with youth. Already a hit in the U.K., he’s one scene in Grey’s Anatomy away from taking America too.

(Originally published in the LA Weekly, 3/07)

El-P: Apocalypse Now

“Brooklyn, fear, drug addiction, transition, hope, sex and flying.” This fragmented sentence (found on an artist blog created to document the final stages of recording) is an apt description of underground hip-hop icon El-P's solo sophomore album, I'll Sleep When You're Dead. Over four years in the making, the follow-up to his lauded debut, Fantastic Damage, reveals El's immense growth as both an artist and primarily as a producer. In between the two, he's established his Definitive Jux imprint as one of the premier indie-rap labels in the world and collaborated with everyone from TV on the Radio to avant-garde pianist Matthew Shipp.

“I've been trying to make this album for almost five years and have had a couple of false starts along the way,” El-P (aka El-Producto) states from his home studio in New York the morning after some serious drinking with friends. “I would jump into it, only to get pulled away to handle other productions and label business. The album went through a bunch of title phases, and I'll Sleep When You're Dead [Definitive Jux, 2007] won as the most fucked-up album title I could think of. I figured it was probably the most threatening album title, that's for sure. There's definitely a theme to it that permeates the whole record. I wanted something I could dig myself into and come back to throughout recording. The simplest way to explain it is to say that the album title is what I imagine the city to be whispering in my ear. This really is my New York record, my post-traumatic stress record. It's been a weird time, and I really wanted to take a snapshot and chronicle some of the vibe that I've been encountering in the city since our world started to tumble down the rabbit hole, without being too heavy-handed or obviously political. I think that people are losing their fucking minds, and I'm one of them. I've gone through some dark times between the two albums, so the title fits.”

Indeed, as the album is an apocalyptic mix of meticulously crafted beats that find El-P's signature maelstrom of sound honed to a fine but brutally effective edge. Going beyond his usual comfort zone of collaborators, the new album brings contributions from the likes of such heavyweights as Trent Reznor, Mars Volta and Cat Power, among others. He's surprisingly talkative for this early hour, obviously excited and more than a little relieved to have such an ambitious undertaking ready to unleash on an unsuspecting public.

What inspired you to blog about the recording process of I'll Sleep When You're Dead?
It was just kind of spontaneous. I was fucking around and thought it might be something cool to do. I had the idea and in one minute created the blog. I hadn't seen that before. The whole blog community seems to circle around the critical, and it occurred to me to try something different. I see how people react to being let in a little bit more with MySpace and everything. No one had done a music blog that had a purpose and would evolve as a project was evolving, as opposed to the usual snarky criticisms of some writer.

There's a quote on the blog where you said the sound on this album is “less dense.” Now that it's done, do you still feel that way?
When I said it was “less dense,” I was full of shit. This record is definitely dense. Maybe a better way to say it is that it's less polluted. Where my production is now and where it was when I did Fantastic Damage [Definitive Jux, 2002] are two very different places. I tried to learn how to refine shit a little bit and to put everything in its right place. I think there are moments on this album that are denser than anything I've ever done, but in a more orchestrated way that melds together as opposed to crashing together. Although, there are a few moments that are complete train wrecks of sound, but what can I say? I like that shit. I'm noisy.

Something that definitely jumped out was the way many of the songs evolve from one idea into something else entirely different by the end, like “Tasmanian Pain Coaster.”
That song actually took me about two and a half years to create, probably because I'm insane and don't know when to stop. With songs, I always just keep going and picking away at them. What I wanted to do musically was to fuck with structure. Instead of each song being one vibe and having a bunch of different songs collectively creating an album, I wanted there to be movement and changes and drama. I kind of went there, for better or worse.

This album finds you collaborating with acts like Mars Volta and Trent Reznor. How did that affect your writing and recording process?
It varied. To some degree, the way that I did it was supercollaborative. For the Mars Volta guys, they actually came in and sang and played guitar over a song I'd written. But I ended up cutting it up on the PC to fit their part into “Tasmanian Pain Coaster.” Working with Trent Reznor on the song “Flyentology,” I knew exactly what I wanted him to do on the song. I sent it out to him, and he was really cool about it and made it happen. Trent is one of the people that I really wanted to make something happen with. I'm a real fan. His stuff is so heavy, which is attractive to cats like me. His productions are so hard and brutal but still melodic. That song seemed like the perfect fit for him.

How do you decide which artists will match up with a particular song?
The way that I use collaborations is much more about the moment or what the song needs. I don't want to do the extraneous collaboration, where it's just about having the opportunity to work with a certain artist. I tried to do it in more of a classy way. Getting their contributions made me look at the songs differently, even though most of them were created already. I would love to do a whole album with certain singers. I've never really worked with people outside of my circle of friends like Aesop Rock and Mr. Lif.

There's a funny quote on your blog about people overestimating the capabilities of Pro Tools….
There is this faction of the music pseudo-intelligentsia that has come up with the idea that there is a pure way to make music, and using Pro Tools is not a part of it. When I made Fantastic Damage, I listed the equipment that was used in the liner notes. One of the pieces was Pro Tools. Then I noticed in certain reviews these writers saying, “Clearly he's using the Pro Tools magic to make it happen.” I'm like, “What the fuck?” There's literally no one out here not using Pro Tools, except for the very few who can afford not to use it. There seems to be a weird fear for some people in terms of using technology in music. But mostly, those are people who know nothing about making music or what Pro Tools is really used for. I feel like anyone who's really into recording gets it.

Have you updated your gear between the two albums?
My whole setup has really expanded since Fantastic Damage. For one thing, I've moved up to a full Pro Tools|HD system, as opposed to the LE system, which was a maximum of 24 tracks at the time. So now I can make even more noise. I've got a bunch of different synths and things to fuck around with. They're all just tools, you know. But my main piece is still the Ensoniq EPS 16 Plus. That's basically my instrument. There are a bunch of other goodies piling up here in the studio. One of the dangers of addictively buying music equipment the way I do is that you tend to buy something and just use it to death. That piece of equipment will often have a sound, so an album or project ends up being defined by that sound. I try to stay away from having that happen and always mix it up in terms of sounds and machines.

What are some of those other keyboards that made it into your arsenal on this album?
I picked up the Korg Triton just for fun and to see what it could do. When I heard it I realized that's what it takes to make a Neptunes beat. I only wish I'd gotten one years earlier and beaten them to the punch. So now the challenge is to use the Triton without sounding like The Neptunes. It ended up on the record here and there.

It sounds like you're a serious gearhead.
I definitely spend a lot of my money on equipment. But honestly, I only moved up to the full Pro Tools rig because of a remix I was doing for the Mars Volta. I tried to open one of their song files on my old system, and I just couldn't. The file was so huge that my computer basically died right there. The new setup is the center of my studio now. The second I got it, my whole scope just opened up, like it bumped me into the real ball game in terms of production. I can play with the big boys a bit.

So in a lot of ways, remixing other artists had an impact on your own music.
My remix work was a huge catalyst for me. It forced me to take different approaches to doing things. I carried that into my own album. That's why my record sounds the way it does. I was doing remixes for rock groups, and the song structures they bring to the table are pretty different from what I usually do. It forced me to pick up different equipment as well because when you're doing remixes for major labels, you can't just be sampling the shit out of things. It was a big deal for me.

What song on the record most reflects this structural shift?
Probably “The Overly Dramatic Truth.” When I finished that song, I was like, “What the fuck did I just do?” It's very unlike anything else I've done, and I didn't know how I was going to sequence it onto the album. Mercifully, it ended up fitting somehow. It's a very unique moment unto itself. I'm a pretty obsessive-compulsive musician, and there's no phase of making a record that's easy for me, all the way down to sequencing. I enjoy it, but it tortures me. I contemplate the shit a lot. I'm sure there's some sort of medication I could be on to alleviate that stress. So it's always nice when the pieces of the puzzle finally come together.

Another song that really stands out on the album is “Poisonville Kids No Wins” with Chan Marshall (aka Cat Power). What was behind that collaboration?
I've known Chan for a few years now. We've always kind of said that we'd do something together. That song was completely done. I had something else happening at the end of it, but it just wasn't working for me. I couldn't figure out what to do. All I knew is that I wanted some sort of vocal there. So I bumped into her randomly right before I had to finish the album, and a couple of days later she came by the studio and knocked out a vocal ending for me. After we did it, I realized that, weirdly enough, I had written the words to a loop I'd made from her song “Love and Communication” from her album The Greatest. It didn't even occur to me until after we did it. Not to say that there's some mystical circumstance surrounding every song on my record, but that coincidence was interesting to me. It came out great.

Do you like to get your ideas down quickly, or do you find yourself digging and tweaking to make sounds and samples your own?
I do both. One of my methods for getting sounds down quickly is using MIDI. Playing bass and synth lines might need to happen the second they occur to you, but tweaking those sounds to get the final tone can take more time. Using MIDI notes allows you to go back and really play with the sound without losing whatever magic may have been in the original idea. I use a bunch of methods to tweak samples, and I use a bunch of samplers for different things. Good outboard gear is very important. Having a good tube preamp is the shit. You can play with the tube and distort bass lines, guitars or whatever until they come off differently. Once in Pro Tools, I will often use sends to put the sounds out to different outboard gear like effects pedals and such. Another great way to create new sounds or to layer them is by doubling something and putting one through different plug-ins, like amp simulations or effects. Once you have one you like, you can play with the balance between the original line and the effected one, as well as pan them in different ways to create a new sound.

In general, how would you say that an El-P song comes to be? Does it start with a sample or a beat or what? Do you have a specific process?
If I knew that, my albums would be made a lot quicker. Anyone who's witnessed me during the writing and recording process wants to put me in a straitjacket. There is no real process. I wish I were one of those cats with a really dependable formula. I'd probably be a lot happier and a lot more prolific. Every time I do a song, I kind of feel like I'm learning how to make music all over again. In some ways, it keeps me sharp. But it's not some philosophy that I want. There are days when I sit down in the studio and have no idea what I'm doing. I'll be staring at $50,000 worth of musical equipment and have no clue what to do with it. I'll spend weeks like that, and then two songs will happen in four days. I really don't know. I've been asked that question so many times, and I think I have to admit that I don't have a process. It happens when it happens.

So how do you know when a song is done?
Usually about a day before the album is due. I never know when something's done, so it comes down to deadline. I'm the kind of cat who at the 11th hour will completely change the entire beat or something. I'm getting better, though. One of the problems with doing a record is listening to the songs so many times. I start to lose perspective. My friends will have to yell at me, like, “Don't fucking touch it!” I have to force myself to just leave [the songs] alone. The idea of working more efficiently is my intention, but sometimes I think it's just a fantasy. I just turned 30, and my personal political view is that the entertainment industry is going to be radically altered in the next five years, so I'd like to get a few more things done before time runs out on this madness.

(Originally published in Remix magazine, 3/07)

Indie Hip-Hop Workout Plan

AESOP ROCK
All Day: Nike + Original Run

Aesop Rock, personal trainer? Believe it. That’s the unlikely scenario proffered by All Day: Nike + Original Run, a 45-minute continuous track produced by the indie-rap enigma Aesop Rock, designed specifically for runners to trance out to on the road or treadmill.

Obviously, the only way to really surmise the album’s effectiveness is to put it to the test. And so I drag my sorry ass to Bally’s Total Fitness in Hollywood — the perpetually overpopulated gym that feels more like a sweaty mall for a colorful cross section of underclothed Angelenos. When I finally elbow my way onto an elliptical machine, I cue up the disc and start running (ellipticizing?).

The sound of someone running on gravel — much faster than me — pans left to right in the headphones over trippy, backward intonations reminiscent of Madlib. Aesop Rock’s inimitable drawl loops into a hypnotic mantra. An insistent, thudding beat propels me to pick up the pace. About eight minutes in, a funky organ kick-starts under a flurry of turntable scratches. Ooh, a grimy rock guitar line. Very Iron Butterfly. Okay, I’m sweating now. The mix is flowing effortlessly, evolving from a Funkadelic acid groove to a spacy electro-jam. A glistening, heavily tattooed Suicide Girl wannabe saddles up in front of me. I wonder what she’s listening to. Wait, where was I? Oh, yeah — sweating like Bobby Brown to Aesop Rock. Who knew? At this rate, the indie-rap set will definitely be ready for the beach this summer. Thanks, dude.

(Originally published in the LA Weekly, 3/07)

Camera Obscura Live @ El Rey, 2/17/07

“My, you’re such a polite crowd,” marveled Camera Obscura’s diminutive singer, Tracyanne Campbell, a few songs into their set. “It’s almost like you’re afraid to let go or something.” She must’ve just missed the memo: Quiet is the new loud. Somewhere between the latest DJ mashup and yet another remix on cocaine, a sizable contingent of America’s youth has made a conscious move to turn down the volume and take it easy with lilting melodies and some comfortable nostalgia on the side. This was never more evident than at the extremely sold-out Camera Obscura show, where eager twee neophytes (tweeophytes?) piled into the El Rey armed with sketchbooks and limited-edition vinyl 7-inches in homage to their gentle Scottish heroes.

Openers Portastatic set the subdued tone. Led by Mac McCaughan from ’90s college-rock stalwarts Superchunk, tonight the band stripped down to a duo of McCaughan and violinist Margaret White. Still, their ramshackle spirit shone through well-crafted songs invoking early Springsteen (and maybe a little Pavement without the big words). The cover of Prefab Sprout’s “When Love Breaks Down” was a nice touch.

But tonight belonged to Camera Obscura, who settled into a placid and alt-countrified groove for most of the show. Strumming through older songs like “Suspended From Class” and recent B-side “Lemon Juice and Paper Cuts,” the band primed an enchanted audience for a shot of their more up-tempo tunes. An enamored fan bought the band a round of drinks as encouragement. When they finally delivered, they delivered big. As they charged through “If Looks Could Kill” and fan favorite “Lloyd, I’m Ready to Be Heartbroken,” their clever blend of Motown, Burt Bacharach and late ’80s Britpop (think the Smiths and Sundays) was undeniably glorious. Ending with a blissed-out take on “Razzle Dazzle Rose,” Camera Obscura proved that it’s safe to put away those Belle & Sebastian comparisons once and for all. They’ve got their own kind of quiet going on.

(Originally published in the LA Weekly, 2/07)

Weird Science: Electric Indie Land

“I'm influenced by a lot of the current European remixers and producers, like Justice and Does It Offend You, Yeah?” says Steve Aoki, one half of L.A. DJ/production duo Weird Science but better known as ubiquitous celebrity DJ Kid Millionaire and owner of the relentlessly cool Dim Mak label. He's going on about the current proliferation of quirky superclub dance tracks coming from overseas, with a particular appeal for the American hipster party scene. “But sometimes the music from Europe is way too out there for most crowds. We always want our sound to be really catchy and simple. There are only a few North American acts that really combine forward sounds with memorable melodies, like Junior Sanchez and MSTRKRFT. I want to produce remixes that anyone can play out.”

Taking a spin through the duo's growing catalog of reworks for the likes of Bloc Party, Peaches and Mindless Self-Indulgence, their simple-but-catchy ethos is readily apparent. “Our sound has an indie-rock sensibility, since that's where we both came from,” reasons Blake Miller, the other half of Weird Science, who's also the singer/guitarist for scrappy L.A. post-punk outfit Moving Units. “Besides the aesthetic, the best thing about indie-rock is just good songs. It's essential that our music have really sick hooks. The other thing is that people's tastes have become so diverse. It's cool to be able to marry indie-rock songs with dirty electro beats.”

“Ultimately, it's all about getting people to just go off at a party,” Aoki surmises. “We want to see people freaking out on the dancefloor.”

Both take pride in their relative lack of experience on the decks and behind the production board but are exceedingly confident in their abilities to churn out bomb tracks, with a full-length album expected in 2007 featuring guest vocals from the likes of French crooner Uffie, Lady Tigra from '80s electro-rappers L'Trimm and Steve Bay from new wave rockers Hot Hot Heat.

“Not to geek out, but my favorite piece of gear is an old Roland W-30 sampling workstation. I've never seen anyone else use one, but I love it,” Miller raves. “The sample memory is really limited, and when you sample at that rate, it has a really trashy, cheap sound to it. We like to take certain vocals, chop them up and repeat them throughout the track. It's become something of a signature. I can't think of any plug-in that could replicate that sound. I like bastardizing technology to get really awesome results. That's kind of our approach in general. We try to rely on our imagination and just force cool things to happen that aren't necessarily conventional.”

(Originally published in Remix, 1/07)

Albert Hammond Jr. at the Troubadour, Feb. 14

It’s like the Strokes with a double shot of sugar on top when their mop-topped six-string slinger Albert Hammond Jr. kicks it on the solo tip. Familiar are his clear-eyed and thematic guitar lines intertwined with rhythmic and jangle-heavy riffing, but his eager, optimistic vocal style and hopeful lyricism are a far cry from Julian Casablanca’s world-weary mutterings. Junior’s solo LP, Yours to Keep, is a giddy collection of feel-good power-pop rock that strikes a charming balance between Is This It? and Get the Knack. Taking a night off from wooing the alterna-teen set by opening for Incubus on their current tour, Hammond hits L.A. right in the heart with this Valentine’s night one-off for hipsters in love (or those who at least still believe in it). Now c’mon and get happy!

(Originally published in the LA Weekly, 2/07)

The Nightwatchman at Hotel Café Los Angeles, Tuesday Night Residency

Guitar star Tom Morello is best known for intergalactic riffs and the uncanny ability to make his six-string sound like everything from scratching turntables to charging elephants, first with Rage Against The Machine and now Audioslave. As The Nightwatchman, this fervent political activist shows that there’s more than one way to take the power back. Instead of his customary bombast, Morello makes a folksy acoustic turn, crafting stark, plaintive musings akin to Woody Guthrie and even Johnny Cash. Although with his deep, baritone croon, Morello’s solo vocalizing can sound eerily reminiscent of Leonard Cohen. His past Hotel Café shows have been benefits for such outreach collectives as Food Not Bombs and his own Axis of Justice, while friends like Perry Farrell and Serj Tankian often join him onstage, so anything’s possible.

(Originally published in the LA Weekly, 1/07)

Peanut Butter Wolf: Sittin' on Chrome

At a packed Mexican restaurant deep in the hipster Los Angeles neighborhood known as Los Feliz, Peanut Butter Wolf looks down at his plate of steak and beans and lets out a heavy sigh. It’s a sigh that’s equal parts fatigue, frustration and a mind-numbing familiarity. It’s understandable, given that he’s only a couple of days back from a tour of Japan (“with Japan, we can really go all over the place in our DJ sets. They’re not nearly as influenced by the radio or whatever”), only to jump back into the studio to finish up work on a new round of remixes for his Stones Throw label. He’s a man of few words, someone who obviously prefers to let the panoramic array of music put out through his imprint do the talking.

He’s here to promote his new mix CD Chrome Children, an impressive compilation of rare and unreleased tracks to celebrate the label being in existence for an entire decade. In those ten years, he’s gone from the “one weird kid into weird music” in San Jose, CA to starting Stones Throw, relocating to LA, discovering multi-aliased production star-child Madlib and having another legendary producer, the late Jay Dee, come calling to be down with the team.

Given so much pioneering and impeccable tastes, the same question hangs ominously over the table, the bustling eatery humming with laughter and conversation – why isn’t Stones Throw Records a household name?

“It’s funny when we look at pictures of the crowds from our shows. There are maybe two or three girls. It’s all dudes,” he intones between bites. “We were going to call this upcoming shows the ‘Wall to Wall Balls’ tour, but decided against it. We definitely want more girls to listen to our stuff.”

Therein lies the answer. Stones Throw deals in the music of obsessive music maniacs, the crate-digging completists consumed with the rarest of rare breaks and vinyl sides. These people are almost all guys, and the last thing they want is their favorites to become common knowledge. That would ruin all of the fun.

“We played a prank on Egon,” he relates in regards to the label’s prolific funk fanatic, general manager and man behind subsidiary imprints like Now Again. “He had an original copy of The Highlighters’ 45 ‘The Funky 16 Corners,’ and we scanned the label and pasted in over one of our own 45s. We’re in his room and I’m bending it back and forth until it snapped in half right in front of his face. His jaw just dropped and he started screaming like a crazy man. That was hilarious.”

He’s far more serious when talking about the label’s flagship artist Madlib. “I really want to do a documentary on him. That’s my next personal goal. He’s just fascinating as a person. He’s down to earth, yet he’s in his own world. We’re a lot alike, even though he’s a million times more talented than me. He’s definitely my brother from another mother.”

While Stones Throw has become one of America’s premier indie hip-hop labels, it’s hard to overlook the range of sounds they actually produce, from the freaked-out lo-fi new wave of Baron Zen (his cover of Katrina & The Waves’ “Walking on Sunshine” is priceless) to the experimental electronic excursions of Koushik. This is much more than just a bunch of boom-bap.

“The common thread is that most of it is really dirty, gutter-sounding shit,” he says finally before tossing me a copy of his notorious “666” heavy metal mix (featuring the likes of Morbid Angel and Cannibal Corpse) and high-tailing it back to his beloved studio. “Some of my favorite stuff was recorded on four-track.” Long live analog.

(Originally published in BPM Magazine, 1/07)

Aaron LaCrate: Digging Deeper

For the uninitiated, the definition of “Baltimore club music” can be a hazy one. Hard dance beats underneath equally hard raps peppered with hip-hop and R&B loops, it’s an inner city sound that’s serious about making you dance.

“It goes back, back before Baltimore club records were even being made,” remembers DJ/producer Aaron LaCrate of his hometown’s nightlife history. He’s fresh from supporting UK pop queen Lily Allen on her first American tour and in a reflective mood. “In the early ’80s, Baltimore’s nightclub scene was flourishing. There were a lot of different options. DJs were playing a mix of Chicago house, New York house, Miami bass and a lot of UK breakbeat records. That’s what was big in the ghettos of Baltimore. That’s kind of the genesis of the Baltimore Club scene, that weird blend of crazy hard dance records for a really diverse crowd.”

Having been a part of that scene since the tender age of 13, LaCrate has carved himself an enviable position in the DJ scene. He’s regularly spinning high-profile parties from London to Japan while scoring choice remixing gigs for pals like Allen, but maintaining a fierce allegiance to his hometown, personified in his patented “Gutter Music” sound.

“I’ve always kept in touch with the original guys like Scottie B,” he says of the Baltimore club first wave elite. “I was the one kid much younger than them that was traveling all of the time, while they would stay home. I would report back to them how much people in London loved their music. It started with Scottie and I putting out a record, and then me getting involved with people like Spank Rock, Amanda Blank and DJ Low Budget from Hollertronix. The whole idea was just my way to bridge the gap between the old school and the younger generation.”

On regards to his own productions, LaCrate hooked up with Baltimore club producer Debonair Samir to make his signature single “Blow,” which came together in record time. “From beginning to end, that song took about 15 minutes to make. Samir and I wrote and recorded the track in Reason, and then laid everything out in ProTools. The vocal parts were chopped up in Cool Edit. I ended up signing Samir to be the in-house producer for my label, Milkcrate Records. I’m a DJ, and I know how I want things to sound. He’s got the more technical aspects covered.”

For 2007, LaCrate wants to “take the Baltimore sound even further. I’m not just about looping up breaks. There’s a whole new genre of uptempo dance music happening all over the world, and this city is a large part of that. ”

(Originally published in Remix, 01/07)

Moving Units, Test Your Reflex at the Troubadour, Saturday February 3

It’s time to bust out your best striped finery and freshen up those asymmetrical coifs — L.A.’s favorite misfit kidz are back and bouncier than ever. Not that disco-wave revivalists Moving Units couldn’t get the dirty pretty things all wet and wild before. But now that primary Unit Blake Miller has done ample time searching for the perfect beat as half of so-hip-it-hurts DJ duo Weird Science with Kid Aoki, there’s no telling what kind of body-rocking bass blasts will erupt amid this gang of three’s signature serpentine guitar lines and sizzling high-hat histrionics. Nearly three years have passed since their last record, so this should be a good barometer of what to expect. SoCal teen dream-rockers Test Your Reflex put the emo in Duran Duran. Tonight we’re gonna party like it’s 1983!

(Originally published in the LA Weekly, 2/07)

DISCO D: 1980-2007

Rest In Peace...

SCISSOR SISTERS: HERE’S TO FUTURE DAYS

“Have you heard the band Hellogoodbye yet? A friend just gave me the CD, and I can’t tell if it’s wonderful or really terrible. But I just love it. The single sounds like Eiffel 65 with robo-Cher vocals and everything. The best part is that it’s completely unashamed. They’re my favorite band right now.”

Jake Spears, lead singer and songwriter for New York disco-pop sensations Scissor Sisters is on a break from filming the video for “Land of a Thousand Words,” the second single off their hotly anticipated sophomore album, appropriately titled Ta-Dah. His unabashed enthusiasm for the goofy Southern California power pop combo HelloGoodbye (fresh from the dubious notoriety of being featured on MTV’s The Real World: Austin) and their spastic song “Touchdown Turnaround” is endearing. It’s also an apt metaphor for the Scissor Sisters themselves.

For more than 30 years, we’ve heard countless bands shamelessly pay tribute to rock icons of the ’70s like Led Zeppelin and Aerosmith. The Scissor Sisters defiantly flaunt inspirations from the flipside of that decade’s other biggest acts, like Abba, the Bee Gees and Elton John. Insanely catchy choruses, throbbing, beat-heavy production, and gleefully flamboyant imagery have served the Scissor Sisters well.

First shaking the scene with their inspired dance-floor rework of Pink Floyd classic “Comfortably Numb” (lauded by none less than Floyd’s own David Gilmour and Roger Waters), they went on to sell more than 300,000 copies of their eponymous debut album in America to an impressively panoramic fan base.

“TV really helped us out here in America,” Shears admits. “We played Saturday Night Live, and sold a bunch of albums to cool people in their twenties. But then we did Regis and Kelly, and suddenly soccer moms were getting into us, too. Still, there were certain big shows that simply refused to have us on, for whatever reason. I won’t name any names, but I will say that there are people in power positions here that won’t give us the same chances that we had in the UK.”

In the UK, that same debut album exploded, going on to become the best-selling album of 2004. The band’s first show on British soil was opening for Duran Duran at the massive Wembley Arena. Elton John became one of their biggest cheerleaders, and soon they were sweeping the top honors at the 2005 Brit Awards (think the English Grammys) and opening shows for U2.

“The UK is just more open to art. It’s a part of everyday living,” theorizes singer Ana Matronic, who saunters into the conversation for some relief of “having so many hands in my face all day” during the day’s video shoot. “I feel like our success over there was based on so many people seeing us live and loving it. It’s in concert that we really make sense. To them, we’re like a return to a certain era of glamour. And they love a good pop tune.”

With such success, of course, comes the pressure and heightened expectations to maintain the upward trajectory. There are plenty of acts that made a big splash with their debuts, only to buckle under the stress of the second album. Such anxieties were hardly lost on Spears.

“It’s a very scary thing, making a record following something as successful as the first album. You can’t help but always compare,” he’s quick to admit. “Suddenly, there’s so much at stake. I have passion for performing and making music; I love it and it’s my livelihood. The thought of that ever being taken away is really horrifying, and it’s a sensation that sort of stayed with me. It took us a year to write this record, which is a really long time. And that’s for no lack of working. We were in the studio every day.”

When that period of “songwriting frustration” threatened to overwhelm Spears, the antidote came in the form of a lucid dream starring… Paul McCartney?

“I have really vivid dreams, and I always take note of them. I had this dream one night about (McCartney), where we had a conversation about songwriting that was something of an epiphany. I wrote down what he’d said to me as soon as I woke up. I was really inspired, and we wrote the song that day,” he explains of the high-energy dance track they named after the former Beatle. “It’s about inspiration, and the telepathic power between a creative person and whoever’s on the other end receiving it. There’s a kind of telepathic relation that happens when you read a book or listen to a song. It’s a long chain that never stops.”

McCartney’s advice seems to have paid off. Ta-Dah is a fleshed-out realization of their debut’s promise, rife with upbeat rug burners and more introspective, melancholy moments. It’s hard to deny the instant appeal of tunes like first single “Don’t Feel Like Dancin’,” a hook-laden stomp of piano-powered mega-pop co-written with none less than Elton John himself.

“Deep down in our hearts, we wanted to make a great pop song together,” says Spears of working with John. “When we got it, we knew it. But it took us a while to get there. It wasn’t like we just banged it out. We really had to work at it.”

“Elton is one of those special people,” adds Matronic. “Music just pours through him. Working with someone like him was crazy and amazing, but everything that’s happened to this band so far as been crazy and amazing, so we just went with it.”

“The album is about expectations, what we expect out of life, and never taking those things or the people around you for granted,” Spears muses when asked about the new album’s deeper meanings. “There was a lot of love on the record, but there was a lot of death around us, too. My sweet aunt Hilda and my best friend in the whole world both died while we were recording, and one of (guitarist) Del’s best friends died, too. It was a pretty heavy period for us. You give up big parts of your life to do this, but you do it anyway because it’s so fulfilling. That’s kind of where the title comes from, saying ‘this is it.’ It’s very kind of depressing, but really beautiful at the same time. I think those tragic moments are very integral to music.

“I love this record, but I’m not satisfied by it,” he says finally. “But I’m never satisfied. I wasn’t satisfied with the first album. I always thought it was a partial piece of crap. I’m a really harsh critic, but I think you’ve gotta be if you’re doing this and want to make something that people think is great. I gave my all to it, but I plan on making better records in the future. To me, Ta-Dah sounds like a record by a band that’s got a future.”

(Originally published as a cover story for BPM Magazine, Winter 2006)

Deerhoof, Hella & Busdriver at El Rey Theatre, Wednesday, January 24

If you still need to scrape away those last stubborn, sticky bits of oh-six, entertain your brain with this soul-scrubbing sonic three-for-all. San Francisco’s Deerhoof have ascended the indie food chain by adroitly pingponging between dreamy experimentalism and quirky but pleasant pop darts. Survey says they’ve created their most coherent (and accessible) set yet with the forthcoming Friend Opportunity, led by the horn-blasted “+ 81,” a smiley smashup of White Stripes, Sonic Youth and Cibo Matto. NorCal’s Hella redefine post-metal riffery with their latest fuzzy math-meets-Nintendo freak-out, There’s No 666 in Outer Space, and probably the best drummer you’ve ever seen live, Zach Hill. L.A.’s own polysyllabic bebop-hop word-worker Busdriver digs deep into his mental thesaurus to dilate the pupils of your mind with his lightning lyrical histrionics, pulling from his freshly minted collection of existential rhymes, Roadkill Overcoat.

(Originally published in the LA Weekly, 1/07)

XXXCHANGE: SPANK ROCK JOCK

“Baltimore club was just a sound on the radio when I was growing up,” mumbles XXXChange (born Alex Upton), the production side of Baltimore's latest underground-gone-global sensation, Spank Rock. “I was more into a lot of hip-hop and anything out of the ordinary I could get my hands on.”

Originally a drummer who ended up in the New England Conservatory to study, XXXChange dropped out to make his way to New York City, where a chance run-in landed him a gig interning at the recording studio of DFA Records, home to such dance-centric indie acts as LCD Soundsystem and the Juan McClean.

“I didn't know that much about production at the time,” XXXChange continues sheepishly. “My experience with making music had only been on the computer, so when they asked me to clear the board my first day there, I didn't know what they were talking about. I did know how to play, so I was able to hang out and learn. It helped me get out of that strictly digital mindset and learn how to set up a microphone. A lot of people in my generation don't know how to do that. They can work Acid or Fruity Loops but are clueless when it comes to real engineering.”

When his internship at DFA didn't result in a full-time gig, he drifted through various odd jobs and toward making his own music with an older version of Pro Tools preloaded on a computer purchased from a former bandmate. It's the same $500 setup that he used to record Spank Rock's debut album, YoYoYoYoYo (Big Dada). Combining License to Ill-era Beastie Boys braggadocio with insistent, 130-plus bpm beats, the Spank Rock sound comes from a panoramic whirlwind of influences.

“Our stuff has a couple elements of club music, mixed with the weirder parts of post-punk rock and bits of people like Dizzee Rascal and that whole UK-garage scene,” XXXChange explains. “It's just us trying to fit all of our favorite music into something that's our own.”

When quizzed about his favorite gear, he's quick to hype Arturia software. “They make a clone of the old ARP 2600 that's great. It sounds really good, has a flexible sequencer, three oscillators and this whole weird matrix section. It's fun to use. It's on pretty much every track of the album.”

Already a few songs into the follow-up, XXXChange says to expect the same dirty Spank Rock energy with an added caveat. “The idea being the first album was to make rap music you can dance to. Now we want to do that with really tight song structures,” he muses. “We want to have bridges, choruses, that whole package. The next record will be a lot more structured in that way.”

(Originally published in Remix, 1/07)

JUSTICE: BIGGER THAN KANYE

Ten years ago, Daft Punk exploded out of France to conquer the world's dancefloor with its thrilling combination of Detroit techno, Chicago house and classic disco influences. The glare of the duo's success illuminated a burgeoning late-'90s electronic scene percolating across its home country, rich with artists such as Motorbass and Cassius. Today, it's a parallel situation as dynamic DJ duo Justice (Gaspard Augé and Xavier de Rosnay) leads a new sonic scene out of France, giving shine to its label Ed Banger Records and other French acts like Uffie and SebastiAn.

“It's really hard to say if there's something unique or special happening in France right now,” shrugs de Rosnay the afternoon after a wildly received show in Brooklyn for the 2006 edition of the CMJ conference. “We've only been together for three years, so this is all new to us.”

In those three years, Justice has earned a lofty reputation as remixer du jour with its big, abrasive bass blasts and crunchy, distorted rhythms. The remix of Simian's “We Are Your Friends” is a worldwide underground smash, made even more notorious when the video won the MTV Europe award for Best Video over perpetual sore loser Kanye West, who rushed the stage in protest. The duo's first proper single, “Waters of Nazareth,” is a grinding dance track powered by heavy-metal energy and decidedly religious overtones.

“I don't know how our music ended up sounding the way it does,” de Rosnay ponders. “We are not big fans of techno music. We're much more into pop music, really. But when we make tracks, what comes out sounds like the guys from Chic getting their asses kicked by Slayer. As for ‘Waters of Nazareth,’ the idea was to blend electronic music with Christian music, since both are powerful and made for the masses. We wanted it to be big like that.”

Currently putting the finishing touches on the group's debut album, expected by the middle of 2007 on Vice, de Rosnay says to expect “lots of disco, given the Justice touch.”

“We make dance music on computers because it's easier than struggling with a guitar,” he reasons. “We tried to do pop music, but it just didn't sound right on a computer. We have lots of drum machines and classic pieces like a Roland Juno-106, but everything is run through the computer. Most of our music is done on Cubase and GarageBand. Those programs work really well for us.”

(Originally published in Remix, 1/07)