#uclaradio

Interview by Megan Hullander

Where did the idea for the album art for Landmark come from?

Nathan: It’s a recreation of our old rehearsal space, Zach’s basement.

Jake: Each of the objects in the room represents one of the songs on the record.

Ouija boards - actual ritual or running joke?

Nathan: Do we dabble?

Jake: We dabble, we dabble.

*exchange look*

Jake: No we don’t really.

Nathan: I don’t think I’ve ever used a ouija board, there’s a first time for everything though.

Jake: Tonight’s the night.

What do you picture people doing when they listen to your music?

Nathan: Making out.

Jake: Yeah, making out.

Nathan: Honestly, I would just love if it was just a poorly lit basement and this kid is like 16 or something and he’s just trying to cop a feel…That’d be cool. There’s nothing in my head, I don’t think about it that way. I guess I would want it to be fairly romantic.

What are your Tinder bios?

Nathan: Zach is the only one who has a Tinder.

Jake: And his bio is “I play bass in a band, this is my most defining feature.”

Nathan: He also used the wrong ‘affects.’ He was talking about something that affects him and put e-ffects instead of a-ffects and I’m like, “Dude, come on.”

Jake: Like come on, your Tinder linguistics man.

If you had one, what would yours be?

Jake: Tinder-what am I doing here again?”

Nathan: Tinder more like timber cause I’m falling off the…I down know. Or…eat me. Just go straight for it.

Jake: Some Little Big Town lyrics.

Nathan: Class of 2013.

Jake: Making waves, catching waves up on the roof.

Nathan: Bible verse. I’d probably put something from “Song of Solomon” in there.

What band would you leave this band for?

Jake: I wanna be the guy with Lorde that plays the drum pad.

Nathan: I wanna be Lorde.

What is the strangest dream you have had about one of your bandmates?

Jake: The death dreams are always…

Nathan: Those are always so real.

Jake: I had one about Zach a while back. I just remember like us three going to the funeral and then like flash forward like a month and we were all like hanging out and we were like “We should call…” and then we all looked at each other and we were just like…

Nathan: NO dude.

Jake: It was so heavy. I woke up so upset.

Nathan: I think one time it wasn’t that one of y’all died, but that Justin Bieber died.

Jake: He’s one of us man.

Nathan: Can you imagine if he died? We were all together and it’s just like we all just kind of broke down. But I woke up and I was like, “Holy shit this is where we are now in the world, Biebs is dead.”

Are you guys big Bieber fans?

Nathan: Man I appreciate…you gotta respect the guy.

Jake: I kinda feel for him on a level.

Nathan: I fuck with some of his shit.

Jake: Yeah I fuck with his shit I just don’t fuck with I feel like he’s trapped.

Nathan: Yeaj he needs to find himself a little bit. He’s got like the world on a string so hjw are you supposed to maintain yourself in that?

Jake: Well from the time he was young, people were just always telling him what he was to be like ‘Justin.’ Yeah, we’re pretty deep in the culture.

Nathan: It’s weird it’s kinda like we grew up with Justin Bieber in a way. I had the haircut. It’s not like we’re fans, there’s like camaraderie.

Who would you like to collaborate with?

Jake: I mean Migos are the Beatles of our generation.

Nathan: I’d like to collaborate with… or I just want to sort of be in the same room as Young Thug. Just watch him do whatever…”

Jake: Sean Paul?

Both break out in song (again), a mediocre rendition of Sean Paul’s “Temperature.”

Nathan: Hippo Paul or Sean Campus?

Jake: Shippo.

Many artists have been getting political have you ever considered making a statement with your music or using your influence?

Nathan: It’s been talked about. It’s a weird subject. I think there is a fine line between our duty and our business. I think it’s…Yes, we have considered it.

Jake: There was an interview the other day where we talked some politics. I think within the band it’s a very person to person basis. We’re all political in different ways. And if we are getting political, we use a personal platform as opposed to the band’s. Everything is very political right now.

Nathan: Everyone is doing it. It’s very trendy.

Written By: Libby Hsieh

Post Date: 3/31/17

In 2017, the muddy waters of musical homogeneity are crowded with people trying to stay afloat, and succeeding under the premise that they all scream the same words. Being a musician, I, like everyone else, have spent many hours daydreaming about performing my music as a way to make a living. Every time I think about it, I want to smash my guitar like those guys in creepy metal bands like I have some predisposition against “the man,” throw my keyboard out the window like that badass old lady in Zombieland, and proclaim an existence of silence before tying my vocal chords into a knot.

Attending small house shows, performing at them, and seeing my friends play the same game, leaves me in this place of not-so-quiet contemplation concerning one word—individuality. Certainly, a shitty college apartment or an underground warehouse—with the same lo-fi static, cut off jeans, apathetic eye rolls, and “Add us on SoundCloud!”—are places where you will find very tiny amounts of it. I don’t care how underground and experimental you think it is. It’s not.

As an influx of musicians scheme their way through exclusive DIY communities, it’s hard to distinguish true creativity. Everything becomes a bland, hackneyed line of formulaic music. Music communities originally formed on the intent of wild expression have become a basic need for musicians to receive populist validation.

It’s all overproduction. It has deformed authenticity and rugged individualism into a plastic model of what people want to listen to. Because we’re lazy.

Musicians (some, not all) know what they want to play because they know what other people want to hear. Sure, you can play guitar. Sure, you have a stellar set of pipes—but where is the creativity? Anyone can play three noisy chords. Anyone can listen to a vocal riff and copy it without a hitch.

Likewise, in the form of other genres, anyone can read an inspiring lyric and write something that mirrors it. But where is the authenticity in that? How can being a ‘creative’ be authentic when every person’s music is a derivative of something that has been done thousands of times before? You can’t keep recycling old ideas and passing them off as individuality. Everyone else is doing that. This pseudo-individuality is overdone and frankly, it’s boring.

In his essay “E Unibus Pluram," David Foster Wallace proposes that the next literary, or artistic, era is going to be littered with “anti-rebels,” who “treat old untrendy human troubles and emotions in U.S. life with reverence and conviction.” He goes on to say, “These anti-rebels would be outdated, of course, before they even started. Too sincere. Clearly repressed…Real Rebels, as far as I can see, risk things. Risk disapproval. The new rebels might be the ones willing to risk the yawn, the rolled eyes, the cool smile, the nudged ribs, the parody of gifted ironists, the ‘How banal.’”

But what happens when we have started producing mass sincerity, individuality, or experimentalism in order to gain a profit to the point where “sincerity” and “individualism” are things that are as common as traffic on the 405 at 3 p.m.? People like relatable artists. People like realness. What happens when realness isn’t real anymore? Sincerity has become the standard for music and has done people’s thinking for them. It makes people forget that what they are listening to is wholly intended for them and is predigested rather than a true reflection of the artist. It becomes no more than a means to an end. Why can’t sentimentality be the end?

Trying to be wholly authentic, wholly emotional, or wholly “individual” seems like it’s an effort to rally against the status quo. However, as every musician gets the wise idea of rebellion, they become a humdrum cliche. I was having this conversation with a good friend of mine and he said that for music to be considered “good,” and non-cliche essentially, it has to have a quality of inspiration and a knack for drawing people in—emotionally and also with outstanding musicianship. But in a culture where every person is producing similarity and wiping out originality, how do we differentiate between what is genuine and what is solely trying to make a profit or appeal to a larger audience?

Many of those artists, who have tried to write music solely for themselves, have been perfectly molded into these stereotypes, against all their efforts, simply because there are a million other musicians exactly like them. Any attempts at trying to break into the realm of inspiration to others is impossible when the credibility of uniqueness has become nullified. People are so used to hearing “rawness” and “realness” that their ears are used to it. They have become tuned to this song of predigested overstimulation.

Sure, you can say that this idea is elitist and only appeals to avant garde music and classical pieces—music that plays to the unreached imagination and successfully fulfills the emotional human need. But it’s not. It’s not necessarily about writing something strange. You can’t create new instruments. You can’t create new sounds.

Post Date: 3/6/17

Queers 4 Ur Ears dedicates their hour to tunes from LGBTQIA+ musicians, showcasing different artists and reflecting how their queer experiences contribute to their music and the community as a whole. The hosts, DJ Spinach Boi and DJ Special Mess, also take time to relate their own stories about queer identity and discuss aspects of the LGBTQIA+ community. The show welcomes listeners of all identities to hear the conversation about the intersection of queerness and music. Their show has featured visitors such as musician Angelina Savanna, but both DJs were certain to name their favorite guest - their current intern Bianca. Although the show had not originally planned to have an intern, they quickly found her contributions to be one of the best aspects of the show - as DJ Spinach Boi and DJ Special Mess said, “As her parent DJs, we could not be prouder, This one’s for you B.”

Written By: Harry Gonzalez-Mejia

Post Date: 3/8/17

Atlanta’s most versatile crooner opens up his self titled record with a religiously tinted banger on “Rent Money.” The four chord progression vocalized by what appears to be a small choir pushes the track forwards while rattling hi hats and thick 808 bass hits bring the much anticipated trap that Future is known for. While the opener surely is a track to remember, mainly due to Future’s well crafted hook and verses, the rest of the album slowly drifts down into an uninteresting slump. 

The beat on “Good Dope,” produced by Southside (of 808 Mafia fame), is nothing to be amazed by. A couple bell hits spice up the beat on the hook yet the hook itself feels like Future is simply compromising. In fact, there are many times where Future does the bare minimum to convince his audience that he is anything else but leaned out on the microphone. In retrospect, the production on “Zoom” gave the impression that Future was going to vocalize something that would be memorable or quotable. The incessant repetition of “ran it up fast” hammers away along with the beat; while tough, cold and merciless at first, it becomes stale upon the second and third listens. The track ends with an ill-meant diss at Desiigner. I personally enjoy the deviation and, quite frankly, Desiigner has earned these shots. 

One of the better tracks on the entire 17 piece meal is arguably “Draco.” The track’s synth arpeggios, warm 808 bass, thick snare, and Future’s versatility all come together fairly nicely. Some might find the synth somewhat harsh and abrasive, but it eventually falls into the background when Future makes his appearance. “Super Trapper” is meant to be a thuggish, darkly tinted track but it comes off as, once again, an uninteresting display of flexing money, drugs, and Future’s come up. “POA” is more upbeat, and manages to barely convey the dark feelings that “Super Trapper” meant to. If anything the production of “POA” might make it worthy of a third or fourth play, but the hook and verses that Future provide here are relatively tame. 

“Mask Off” is similar to “POA,” and the flutes that are sampled throughout the track are welcoming and eerie. Yet, once again, Future fails to provide something of substance. It is important to note that this is being held to Future’s own standards that he set on DS2. Nobody comes to Future expecting bars or songs of personal substance; however the self titled record gives off the impression that most of these tracks might be leftovers of previous bodies of work. “Outta Time” is an enjoyable change of pace, where Future plays a more melodic role on his album. The hook is delicious - “P.I.M.P., gettin' that Monica Lewinsky / Chain on freeze, wrist on jet-skis.” The beat, also crafted by Southside, is riddled with wah-wah synth strokes and small, angular guitar notes. The track as a whole gives off a carefree, sunny feeling - a context that Future would usually not be found on. 

Subsequent tracks fall into the aforementioned slump that Future carved for himself. “I’m so Groovy” contains a poor replication of Young Thug on it. “Might as Well” contains a Drake-y beat: minimal with piano hits, a sine bass, and small amounts of reverb thrown in. “Poppin Tags” is a track that Future listeners could swear they have heard before. From the construction of the beat to the lyrical content to the actual delivery that Future provides, this track feels like some kind of B-side. 

“Flip” is a track that gives the impression that a feature would have made this extremely replay worthy. The hook could use a bit of focus, as Future appears to be jumping from note to note without any idea of what the final product should be. In fact, most of this record feels very directionless despite the sensation that most tracks blend seamlessly with one another. The fact that the whole record is reserved for Future could add to that specific detriment. 

The hoover synth on “When I Was Broke” makes the beat stand out from the rest of the skeletal trap beats. It wobbles under Future throughout the majority of the track and adds a secondary melodic edge. As a closing track, “Feds Did a Sweep” is humbling and sweet. The production brought together by Zaytoven feels like it would be a track that could use Gucci, or somebody, on it. Future made a very interesting decision keeping the entire project to himself, but it is a shame that this same interesting decision did not lead to a collection of interesting tracks.

Rating: 5/10

Written By: Amy Cummings

Photo/Video Credits: Bryan Villalpando

Post Date: 2/13/17

El Ten Eleven opened for Lotus at the Fonda this past weekend — and with a floor full of enthusiastic listeners, you wouldn’t have guessed that they weren’t headlining. Bryan and I headed in early and camped out at the barrier with a clear view of the stage, which was packed with an elaborate setup: at least four bass/guitar combos and a full drum kit for El Ten Eleven — a duo — alone. It was our third time seeing the band perform live, so we had high expectations. The band came on at nine o’clock sharp and delivered a consistently excellent performance, as usual.

The first time Bryan and I saw El Ten Eleven, they were nearly late to their show at the Teragram Ballroom due to mudslides across major California highways. The band joked about playing a mudslide remix of their songs in homage to the day’s events. The second time we saw them, Kristian Dunn was disgruntled that we weren’t loud enough in the crowd (we were too busy dancing; who knew?). This time, we were determined to bring the band some joy and danced and cheered loudly to show our support. I guess it worked because we brought an elusive smile to Kristian’s face. They are a joy to watch because of the sheer physicality they exhibit in the layering together of their complex music for a live performance. While Tim Fogarty goes hard on the drum kit, his hair progressively deflating from sweat, Kristian works the loop pedal and deftly swaps among his multiple double-necked guitars. You can’t help but feel impressed when you realize the amount of gear these dudes have to schlep around for a duo act, and a little bit intimidated when you actually see them put all the puzzle pieces together. But it works so well, and that’s what makes them great.

Despite a brief technical difficulty or two, the band kept the energy high for the entire hour-long set and seemed to be having a good time. I had heard others in the crowd around me talking about how they’d seen El Ten Eleven shows in the past, and that the band brought them back to this show even though they weren’t headlining. It’s extremely difficult to talk about this band since they’ve already rejected so many labels like math rock or art rock, since they create a totally unique experience whenever they take the stage. Their transcendent performance was also perfect against the backdrop of the Fonda, which was full of cool air and misty light. 

Fist Fight press junket - 2/2/17

Photo Credits: Annie Williams