Part 2 of a 3 part interview conducted with Los Angeles DIY label Deathbomb Arc, on the birth of clipping., the meaning of experimental music, and the curses and blessings of liking everything:
Cristina Bercovitz
tik//tik, Bill Hutson, Jonathan Snipes
“There is nothing explicity sexist about speaking over rhythms.” William Hutson says, laughing. “You don’t have to say monstrous things about women as a rapper, they just generally do for some reason.”
I’d just brought up my theory that hiphop as a movement is incorrectly labeled as sexist. That people, rappers, as individuals can be called out for their actions or their speech, but the movement cannot. People don’t attack thespianism as a whole because the actor who plays Don Draper on Mad Men gives a sexist performance on TV, so what’s the difference with rap?
“Some people don't understand that. People do think that musicians go on stage and are the ultimate version of themselves,” Brian Miller adds.
People imprint themselves on music like no other art form. clipping.’s work especially has been regarded as more aggro than deserved (in my opinion) and Bill Hutson helps me understand why when I bring up the fact that I have feelings for abstract art (I feel as emotional at the lines of Judd and paint blotches of a Frankenthaler as I do at good music), yet I still understand the painters and sculptors of that period were not referencing me.
“But even abstract art was sold on the rugged individualism of Pollock as some cowboy. With the artist as the character and not the art,” Hutson interjects. “It’s all a bunch of bullshit to me,” he says, before shrinking back into his shoulders and staring into his wine.
Jonathan Snipes explains: “I always thought of my Captain Ahab lyrics as a sort of musical timbre. I responded to Miami Bass and Detroit Ghetto House music. I liked the drum machine sounds, the way they were programmed, the synths, and the words. The words in those songs just so happen to mostly be about women’s butts.” (Everyone at the table giggles. it makes sense, sort of.) “It wouldn’t be that type of music if we weren’t talking about women’s butts. The words you’re using can be a timbre choice. I think the same is true for clipping. I don’t feel like I’m allowed to say that, because I don’t write the words for clipping., but I would say that’s true of that band as well.”
He brings up a point I’d been dying to talk about. The lyrical choices on clipping.’s midcity are massive in terms of word placement. It’s clear that Daveed Diggs’ lyrics weren’t written into a cell phone that evening and recorded once, never to be edited. His story rhymes and raps are deliciously grotesque poetry about lost lovers, affection for the city, and blind loyalty to the street, that are as visually stimulating as they are precisely spit. I read that they'd been choosy about his phrasing. “Rappers don’t have editors," Hutson says, “except for Daveed, he’s been amazed that we have opinions, and will ask us which line or word is better, but that certainly is not how rap music gets written anywhere else.” The amazing thing about clipping.’s experimental hiphop is also the fact that Daveed seems to stand alone while rhyming, as the electro-acoustic interference and noise he raps over is not necessarily providing him with a rhythm, many times he is the rhythm, and the noise is the lead, but before I get to lost in my love for minimalism, the maximalist at the table speaks up.
tik///tik (Steven Cano) has been a noise-music fixture around Los Angeles for years. If there is a true noise music maker at the table it’s him. I’m surprised though, to learn that the vocals and vocal samples in his music are his own. Miller regards him as the most soulful musician of the group because of his earnestness, and I’m surprised at his personality in person. He's congenial, almost diminutive. He speaks quietly for having made such noisy music over the years. My favorite works of his Jewel Play, and Every Hex Is A Hearthache wrap his pop vocals in visqueen and duct tape and toss the kidnapped, dead idea of pop into a chilly slough. “I might push the volume, but there’s always something in the middle of that maelstrom of sounds going around in my music. There’ll be a horrible torch song right in the middle of my songs, and that’s what I’m worried about,” he says, quietly, almost unsure of himself.
If you hear his music you might be as shocked as me that he’s making pop tunes. His inspirations:
“I relate to Miami Freestyle, I used to steal my brothers N.W.A., I listened to LL Cool J, that’s kind of what attracted me to Captain Ahab (Snipes’ early group) originally because I like that Miami ‘booty’ sound.”
Brian says: “The first time he really struck me was on his tracks during ‘The Fruit Will Rot Vol. 3’; everyone else delivered really harsh noise for that compilation. Stephen turned in these tracks that could have used vocal samples from pop acts from the '60s or something, but they weren’t, they’re actually Stephen singing. I’ve never heard anything else like it." Then he sums up tik///tik in a single sentence, putting it in a way I'd never thought of: "How many people out there are like ‘Gee, I sure wish there was a group that bridged the gap between my harsh noise records and my soul collection?”
Stephen's reply: “It’s part of the LA thing, though. I’m fine sitting between all these people. I’ve been on tour with them. Nothing is weird to me. To me I.E. has written the noisiest punk-rock track ever. Genre doesn’t exist.”
Speaking of LA acts going way back, and The Fruit Will Rot Vol.3 gives me the chance to ask Bill Hutson of what I’d heard was the genesis of clipping, his early work as a noise act called Beach Balls.
“It was a joke about all of the LA harsh noise acts at that time, people were ripping off one artist known as Pedestrian Deposit. Everyone’s music was coming out as blasts of harsh noise between ambient music cuts. I made the joke that I was going to do that in my band Beach Balls, but with harsh noise and rap a cappellas. It was just an attempt to re-format what everyone was doing by ripping off one guy. But instead of copying we’d switch out one of the genres for something I related to.”
The DNA of clipping. can be traced all the way back to that mixtape in which Bill uses a click track and a Ying Yang Twins sample to make a song called “Case Sensitivity” that takes the juvenile "whisper song" and turns it into an ominous hiphop adventure. Snipes recalls begging Hutson to form a band after seeing LA group Death Set play distorted radio-rap songs inbetween songs in their set. “I told him for years someone needed to do this as a band, combine noise and rap, and eventually I convinced him we should do it as a remix project. The first one we worked on was using an Insane Clown Posse a cappella.”
Hutson: “The reason I did all that, and I made all these songs that never came out, was because I was uncomfortable with the degree to which…it was a joke about taking these power electronic songs that are either explicitly or implicitly white-supremacist music, and I would beat match them with like Lil Wayne rapping over them. Because they were in the same tempo, and it was like, ‘these are two sounds I like and how do I deal with the fact that some of the music I like is really fucked up and I don’t agree with it’…” He goes on to rant about acts whose white-supremacist values seem to have been forgotten (or more likely not even researched) because their bands make for good buzz media.
Miller: “The idea was of negotiating between all the different types of music, and being able to touch base with them, but the culture at that time was not ok with us mixing those things. We mash things together so much that people don’t realize we love all these genres. You really have to listen to hear those things in there, the soul singing, Trina samples, J Mascis. We met because I once put out a very abstract tribute to Cash Money records, and I knew of Bill’s music, then wrote to him and found out we lived near each other. It was cool for us, but at the time it literally got me hate mail from people who thought we shouldn’t combine certain music and rap. Bill just happened to be into experimental music and hiphop like me.”
Hutson: “Very specifically, Cash Money records. When I was a kid I wanted to be a Cash Money Millionaire, and in 1998 I switched to wanting to be a No Limit Soldier,” he laughs.
As Brian points out, these things may sound like nothing weird at all now, but in ‘02 looked like a pretty defiant (read: punk) stance toward the standards of craven scenesters. Brian also previously put out a tribute compilation to No Limit records as well that asked bands to write songs around the idea of No Limit records. The DIY to stardom aspect of those labels are what inspired Deathbomb. Also the question of what it means to be a white person from suburban LA who loves southern gangster rap. The exploration, the experiment, was the point.
“Call it mysoginist, but those Southern labels supported more female acts at that time than any other label, I can name more female rappers from New Orleans than I can from any other city.” Earlier I mistakenly referred to Percy Miller (aka Master P, head of No Limit) as Patrick Miller, and Bill Hutson corrected me as soon as it came out of my mouth. I apologized. Dude is serious about his rap and hiphop.
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