Just a few days before, he expressed that same mentality from his Los Angeles home studio.

“You can’t bring some half-ass shit to Detroit,” said Ellison. “People go there with the mentality of destroying — destroying the party, destroying the DJ before them, whatever. I like to have fun, too… but when you’re in Detroit, you can’t fuck around.” The sentiment is made that much sweeter knowing Ellison’s family still resides in the area (his great aunt, the great late Alice Coltrane, was born in Detroit).

Ellison rocked like the stage with the excitement of a rookie, like he’s never seen 1,000+ people in front of him. Each sample he dropped, he lip-synched along with it like there was some deeper meaning within each track (his fondness for Lil’ Wayne was evident throughout the hour-and-a-half performance). Ellison also brought his sense of humor, bumping his way through Radiohead’s “Idioteque” as a way of answering rumblings that he might be remixing an upcoming Radiohead record.

Before Ellison arrived to rock the Red Bull Music Academy stage and close out Movement 2011, we caught up with him at home to discuss his upcoming work as a producer, his growing interest in the written word and the pressures of running his own label, the aptly titled Brainfeeder.

Word on the street is that you are busy producing the new Thundercat record, one of the artists on your Brainfeeder roster.

I think it’s going to be one of the most important records out this year — not because of my involvement, but because it’s music that we are not hearing right now. A lot of the stuff that we’re hearing this year is very, very familiar. You can talk about mainstream stuff or you can talk about the underground stuff, but it’s all real familiar.

But with Thundercat, I can say with full confidence that you haven’t heard nothing like this. But you’ve been wanting to (laughs). It’s very exceptional, you know? But it’s still challenging. There’s lots of jazz playing on there. At the same time, there are lots of ballad-y songs. It’s such a pleasure to work with the guy because he’s an amazing musician. It makes the work that I do very, very easy. For anyone who is wondering, that album is expected to drop at the end of August.

That plays into the idea that you are taking on more and more production work.

This year I am. I’ve been working on other things. I don’t feel the need to make a record for myself right now.

A producer can easily become a fifth member of a band. If you look at a guy like Jon Brion (Kanye West, Fiona Apple), you can always tell when he is on a record. What’s the role of a producer to you?

It’s definitely different for the two projects I’m working on — one being the Thundercat record, the other being the Erykah Badu record. The Thundercat [record] is more of a Quincy Jones situation… where that record was almost complete before I was brought in. What I did was help flesh out the ideas on some of these tracks and put the record together in a way that is cohesive.

With Badu, I’m starting from scratch. It’s really interesting to deal with two different people. It’s a fun learning process for me as an artist. I’ve never really felt the need to step out on my own, but now, I really like the idea especially at a time when I don’t want to be producing my own record.

There is always a risk that you can get lost in your own work when producing a record you wrote and recorded yourself. It’s like a screenwriter directing his own movie.

My year without making a record is like me being a student again. I’ve been studying piano more and studying motion graphics. I’ve been applying myself all over again. It’s definitely one of those years where I’m back in the cocoon.

Are you picking up techniques and practical skills you’ll apply on future projects?

Absolutely. More than anything, I’ve been fascinated with songwriting because it’s an area I haven’t really dived into much. I’ve lived a crazy life and, for a long time, I’ve been really terrified of words.

What do you mean by “crazy life?”

Well, I mean, my life is crazy, dude. I’m sure yours is, too. I’ve dealt with a lot in the past five years. I finally feel like I have enough life experience to write songs and not regret the words that I wrote down the road. Right now, I feel like if I write something, I’ll mean it. I might not feel like that ten years down the road, but I’ll be able to say, “Well, shit. That was the true shit at the time!”

It’s like a tattoo. You don’t want to get one you’ll regret.

Absolutely! I’ve been comparing songwriting to that for a long time because I don’t have any tattoos and I’m terrified of getting one. I’m afraid that I’ll get all buff and the tattoo will move out of the place from where I put it, you know? I’ll put it on my shoulder and it’ll end up on my triceps or something (laughs).

As time goes on and you accomplish more as an artist, do you find that it’s easier to get the things done that you want to do?

Absolutely not. It’s tough to do everything now because there is so much risk and responsibility. It’s not so much about creative voice, but more about the fact that I’ve got a label and other peoples’ reputation on the line. It’s weird (laughs). It’s like being a dad in the way. I gotta make sure the kiddies eat.

You’ve got brand to protect now.

Even if I don’t want to pick up the phone, I still have to do it for other people. It’s awesome, but at the same time, dusk rolls around and all I’ve done is check e-mails. But I don’t have to work a regular job, so I can’t complain about shit, can I? There’s more work to do than just showing up at the party, that’s for sure.

Words by Ryan Patrick Hooper. Photos by Joe Gall.

These, ladies and gentlemen, are the perks of being the digital art director for a global pharmaceutical firm and a budding New Jersey-based DJ whiz.

The One-Two Punch

“Who knows better what the sound looks like than me?” says Com (born Seth Haley), sipping on a Red Bull and vodka after his afternoon set on the Red Bull Music Academy stage. “A lot of artists don’t have that one-two punch, so I definitely got lucky. Working in the advertising industry really pushes me towards branding — creating it and managing it. That all comes into play when it comes to the look of my music.”

There is no doubt that Com is aesthetic-minded, but don’t think for the skip of a heartbeat that such attention to design details has kept him from the mixing board. His two-hour set started out slow, but by halfway through, Com had found his rhythm and word had spread.

The crowd tripled in size. Even the photographers and beat writers couldn’t stop buzzing about his set. With one foot in the world of analog and another firmly planted in modern electronics, Com cruised his way through what seemed like a smooth-synth ear massage (an exercise in editorial expression that he couldn’t agree with more), drawing easy comparisons to instrumentals that groups like Passion Pit and CCS would easily lay their vocals over. But can you really describe it as well as the man himself can display it?

“Lately, I’ve been describing my stuff as melty,” laughs Com.

Com won’t be melting away with the icecaps anytime soon. Before he heads off for tour this summer with Glitch Mob and Phantogram, he’ll be balancing the day job and slaving away on a handful of remixes for some heavy hitters (soon to be announced!).

Words by Ryan Patrick Hooper. Photos by Joe Gall.

Upcoming Tour Dates

Com Truise w/ Phantogram & Glitch Mob

July 12 : Ft. Lauderdale, FL : Revolution w/ Phantogram & Glitch Mob
July 13 : Tampa, FL : Czar w/ Phantogram & Glitch Mob
July 14 : Orlando, FL : The Beacham Theater w/ Phantogram & Glitch Mob
July 15 : Atlanta, GA : King Plow w/ Phantogram & Glitch Mob
July 16 : Nashville, TN : Exit In w/ Phantogram & Glitch Mob
July 17 : Asheville, NC : The Orange Peel w/ Phantogram & Glitch Mob
July 19 : Charlottesville, VA : Jefferson Theater w/ Phantogram & Glitch Mob
July 20 : Washington D.C. : 9:30 Club w/ Phantogram & Glitch Mob
July 21 : Philadelphia, PA : Theatre of Living Arts w/ Phantogram & Glitch Mob
July 22 : New York, NY : Terminal 5 w/ Phantogram & RJD2 & Glitch Mob
July 23 : Boston, MA : Paradise Rock Club w/ Phantogram & Glitch Mob
July 24 : Northampton, MA : Pearl Street w/ Phantogram & Glitch Mob
July 25 : Burlington, VT : Higher Ground w/ Phantogram & Glitch Mob
July 27 : Montreal, QC : SAT w/ Phantogram & Glitch Mob
July 28 : Toronto, ON : 69 Bathurst w/ Phantogram & Glitch Mob
July 29 : Buffalo, NY : Town Ballroom w/ Phantogram & Glitch Mob
July 30 : Pittsburgh, PA : Rex Theater w/ Phantogram & Glitch Mob
July 31 : Cleveland, OH : Grog Shop w/ Phantogram & Glitch Mob
Aug 01 : Cincinnati, OH : 20th Century Theatre w/ Phantogram & Glitch Mob
Aug 03 : Detroit, MI : Magic Stick w/ Phantogram & Glitch Mob
Aug 04 : Grand Rapids, MI : Intersection w/ Phantogram & Glitch Mob

That’s definitely one way to start off the summer, gentlemen.

Phat Kat: That was dope, man! I’m usually doing spots indoors, so it was good show being outside, right off the water…

Guilty Simpson: Any time you’ve got a live band, it’s a new experience as opposed to playing some tracks off a CD. The element of the band and the natural timing of it opposed to the quantized, robotic timing of a normal show definitely brings some energy to my performance.

Elzhi: The bass felt right and just watching the rest of the set — hearing the musicians absolutely kill those tracks — it felt real good, man. The vibe of the crowd was great, too. I definitely appreciated the whole experience.

Sam, you just had three very important figures in Detroit hip-hop say the band killed the show, so how did it feel on your end?

Sam Beaubien: It feels good to have it done with. It was a lot of work putting this together and just trying to stay true to the music and not trying to do much with the way the songs already sounded. These are some of my favorite songs, so it was an absolute pleasure to perform with all of them.

Is it tough to transfer those beats and bass off the record and plug it into the live band?

Sam Beaubien: There are definitely a lot of steps that go into making the music happen. I don’t just call the band over one night and start jamming, you know. It takes a lot of time to program the keyboards and getting the band tight and then bringing in the emcees and getting them up to speed. When you’re with a live band, the songs change every time. They end differently every time, so you’re never really sure how it’s going to go down. It comes down to a lot of trust between the emcees and the musicians.

Phat Kat and Guilty, the tone and delivery of your respective styles are so different. Is it tough to find a common, cohesive ground when you perform together?

Phat Kat: I’ve always been a fan of Elzhi and Guilty, so it’s all about the chemistry. The chemistry has always been there with all the cats I’ve been working with. If that shit is working, everything else will fall into play.

Detroit hip-hop artists have always been able to head overseas and receive mad love from audiences. Sometimes, it seems like the city doesn’t always show the same sort of respect.

Phat Kat: When you look at the fans overseas, they’re not lazy. People over here are lazy and they’re spoiled. They don’t always appreciate the music coming from here because they feel like they can see it anytime, you know? The people overseas are hungry for the history and do the research. They know songs you probably don’t remember recording!

Guilty Simpson: Sometimes, it’s a lack of respect. Sometimes, it might just be a lack of awareness. Some people that I love to death are like zombies when it comes to music. It’s almost like if you’re a good rapper, you have to be on the radio or be on 106 & Park. They don’t incorporate the struggle when they try to understand the music, you know? When you look at it in that aspect, I don’t think they necessarily have hate or malice in their heart … they just don’t know. They don’t understand the music game. Some people took notice of me, but some people didn’t choose to take notice until I got a record deal. I just think that I’m in the process of writing my history. I can’t worry about everybody, you know? Hopefully, I can make a beautiful body of work so when people go back and listen to it, they can ask themselves, “Damn! How stupid was I?”

As emcees, are the three of you paying attention to what’s going down in Detroit hip-hop right now?

Elzhi: We always do because basically, we’re up in the spots with the same cats who do the music. We just love the fact that there are cats like Danny Brown and Ro Spit are keeping the movement going, you know?

Guilty Simpson: We always make it our business. After you pay your dues in Detroit, you want to make sure [someone] is maintaining the house. That house is Detroit music. Who’s keeping the yard up? Who’s making sure it functions and remains progressive? Who’s pushing the envelope and breaking the monotony? If we don’t tend to and nurture Detroit hip-hop, we’ll lose our way. We always have to nurture the original sound that we do have and elevate that. If we don’t, we’ll get lost in the sauce and won’t know what we sound like that anymore.

In the national media, Detroit hip-hop is always “about” to pop. It’s always “about” to do something. On a very real level, what is the state of hip-hop? When is it going to be forcibly put on the map?

Phat Kat: Who’s to say that it’s not already on the map? By who’s standards are we judging that by? We tour all around the world! The body of the work that we’re doing is appreciated around the globe! To me, Detroit is already on the map.

Guilty Simpson: If someone is waiting on Guilty Simpson’s music to appeal to a 15-year-old, it’s not going to happen. I’m not going to waver with the trends. I’m not going to jump on the next hot thing. I’m not going to recreate myself every three months to follow what’s hot, you know? I’m not going to follow these standards of remaining relevant in the game. You have to sell your soul to do that, so that’s never going down with me. I’ve never really had the 106 & Park game or that aim, you know? Once you understand what your goals are and what you really want to do then, you know, you won. I can do things to get better at my own craft, but I don’t feel like I have to prove anything or sell myself to sell some bullshit music.

Elzhi: I feel like Detroit is on the map just through other people’s music. We’ve influenced a lot of folks…

Phat Kat: Damn, he went there!

Elzhi: We’ve influenced folks who are underground and folks sittin’ on top. I’ve even heard Pharrell on 106 & Park give props to J Dilla.

Guilty Simpson: Said he was his favorite producer!

Elzhi: I know for a fact that Dr. Dre, Korrupt and Snoop Dogg on the “Up In Smoke” tour were on three separate buses and they named their buses after the members of Slum Village, you know? … Just knowing that lets me know that Detroit music is on the map in a big way. It might not be in the forefront like that, but people who make music and drive the trends know all too well what’s up on Detroit music.

Phat Kat: You can ask any well-known artist if they know of a Guilty Simpson, Elzhi, Phat Kat, Slum Village or Black Milk. You better believe that nine times out of ten, they’ll know exactly who you’re talking about.

Words by Ryan Patrick Hooper with photos by Dustin Downing

“Why is a guy who professionally brews his own tea and adores ale drinking a Budweiser?” I wonder. “Is Budweiser available overseas? Is Budweiser considered a delicacy for dudes from the UK?”

“His beard doesn’t seem the least bit unruly,” I observe. “In fact, it’s barely there. Where is the hair on his body that helped give him the stage name of Mr. Scruff? Do I really want to know?”

“Did this dude really manage to fit ‘I Say A Little Prayer’ by Aretha Franklin into his set?” I asked aloud to myself (my brain was overheating from all the introspective questioning).

Eventually, the gear was packed away and Mr. Scruff was three cans of Budweiser deep. Backstage at the Red Bull Music Academy stage, one by one my questions were answered (for the most part). The thing about the body hair? We’re leaving it open to speculation for the ladies. As Mr. Scruff tells it, he brought everything with him to record his first single except for a name for himself. When asked what he wanted to label the original recordings, in a flash decision his original moniker of Funky Scruff became Mr. Scruff. By the way, Mr. Scruff did actually sneak ‘I Say A Little Prayer’ by Aretha Franklin into his jazzed-out, sample-heavy set — good work on pleasing the natives. By the way, the Budweiser thing? Yeah, I still don’t get it. Here are the rest of those deeply meditative questions I pondered in action…

You definitely won over some hearts in the crowd by messing around with that Aretha Franklin track. Your love for all things Detroit is well documented, but it’s been a few since you’ve been played here. What’s your perspective on finally returning to the city?

Mr. Scruff: Musically, Detroit and Manchester are twin cities, you know. There are people who love electronic music and there are lots of people who love soul music in both cities. On that same note, a lot of Manchester music was very important to the early techno scene. There is a ridiculously long history of quality music in both cities and when it comes to Detroit, I’m obsessive about all of it … from super early soul to ghetto-tech and everything in between. I need a slap on the wrist for not spending enough time here…

One of the ideas within your music that sets you aside from the performers this weekend is the sense of humor littered throughout your work. It doesn’t really seem like you take yourself too seriously.

Mr. Scruff: I enjoy music. Music, to me, can cover a wide range of emotions — both the emotions of the music and the emotions of the listener. It’s like when you meet a person. I’d rather meet someone who is bubbly, chatty, had a sense of humor, wasn’t too serious and put you at ease. That’s what I try to do with my music and that’s the music that appeals to me. I like music that says, “Come to me! Come over here and enjoy this!” I don’t think it’s a real conscious philosophy because it’s just what I’m drawn to. I do like introspective music as well … [and] the production [on Mr. Scruff material] is really quite heavy, but it’s filled with lightheartedness as well. In the end, I want to make music that people can enjoy and go out and have fun to.

But everyone knows you can’t force a dance party.

You’ve got to go with what you feel and trust your instincts. I never know what I’m going to play, but I’ve got a real sense of what’s necessary at that given time.

I know sampling is a big part behind how your songs are put together, but is live instrumentation something you use during your recording process as well?

Mr. Scruff: Depends. I love the heaviness and repetition of sampling … so when I work with live musicians, I like to have that same approach and not get too fussy, not get too fancy, not get too clean. Sampling music is a real hybrid of live and electronic music because you take something that was quite organic and turn into something quite mechanical and repetitive. If you listen to the White Stripes, that’s very mechanical live music but quite wonky as well. That’s live music that has a mechanical element to it. You can tell those musicians have heard a drum machine before, attempted to copy it and got it a bit wrong which ended up leading to something absolutely amazing.

Words by Ryan Patrick Hooper with photos by Dustin Downing

For the past three years, the Red Bull Music Academy stage has made significant moves to bring unique, vibrant and sometimes challenging acts to Detroit’s signature electronic festival. The Red Bull Music Academy stage has welcomed progressive acts ahead of their time, such as the first-class dub-step of Bassnectar (before he was selling out 3,000-plus capacity venues across North America) to the mash-up mastery of Girl Talk (before people knew he was an engineer turned deejay) and Flying Lotus (a product of the 2006 Red Bull Music Academy held in Australia). Don’t forget the wide variety of acts ChinaShop was proud to cover at both Movement 2009 and, of course, this year. In the end, the Red Bull Music Academy stage is simply taking a page out of the electronic music genre itself — constantly challenging the idea of “what is” and “what isn’t” electronic music as musicians redefine their craft and technology pushes forward. This year, the Red Bull Music Academy stage welcomed two more innovative artists from two very different worlds — the early dub-step pioneer Martyn of Holland and the classical pianist turned groundbreaking electronic wunderkind Francesco Tristano.

Red Bull Music Academy

Martyn forged his way into deejaying through the club scene in Holland in the late ‘90s. His passion for the nightlife and the music that fueled it continued to grow until he heard a void that needed to be filled. “There was a very hard drum and bass sound, and then there was a melodic one … but there wasn’t a middle ground,” recalls Martyn, a pair of large aviator glasses resting over his eyes. “After a while, I got fed up looking for it, so … I decided to find that middle ground in my own music.” Martyn would go on to forge rudimentary beginnings of dub-step (think echo-heavy, grime-esque house recorded inside of a cavern similar to what British-based Burial does today). Today, Martyn denies much of a bridge between what he was doing then and what dub-step has transformed into today. “In the last year, dub-step has changed radically. It’s almost a completely different form of music.” Regardless, Martyn’s knack for freakishly cohesive mixes and early innovations to the genre has landed him the title of “pioneer” via critical bloggers, journalists and artists alike — a title he hardly wears like a badge. “It’s just what other people make of it, you know?” he explains. “At the end of the day, you just do what you think is right. Whether that’s pioneering or not, that’s up for other people to decide. For me, it’s all about a personal expression and constantly reinventing myself.”

Pianist and multi-instrumentalist Francesco Tristano has been tagged with similar labels. From an early age, Tristano would improvise freely on the piano for hours at a time. “You could have called that classical, you could have called that jazz — I was playing many moods,” recalls Tristano. Tristano would go on to study at the Julliard School, moving on with a Bachelor and Masters of Music before studying at various conservatories across Europe. In 2004, Tristano won the International Piano Competition for Twentieth-Century Music in Orléans — not your typical Movement fare. But it was his discovered love for electronic music and his way of deconstructing and rebuilding the sounds of his new found favorite sounds that would set him apart. “The more I listened to techno,” says Tristano, “the more it had an impact on the way I was playing the piano and how I was composing. Basically, I wanted to sound like a very minimal language, to have lots of rhythm and expanding on the idea of the piano being a machine … that does much more beyond the keys.” By reaching inside the piano and manipulating the various components — playing with the strings through variations of hammering and muting — Tristano would “remix” Detroit techno classics like Derrick May’s “Strings of Life” and go on to collaborate with Carl Craig and Moritz von Oswald at last year’s 2010 Red Bull Music Academy in London. While Tristano’s talents reach far beyond his classical upbringing, the Barcelona-based pianist shares the same rebellious attitude towards a world of music around him that continues to force labels and define genres. “Boundaries only exist if you apply them to yourself,” continues Tristano. “The point is that I play piano. I play classical recitals where I’ll play some contemporary stuff and maybe I’ll throw in some techno standards, but [I’ll] play it on the piano so the classical audience has a chance to discover it in another form. But isn’t that what remixing is all about? To present music in another form?”

Both Martyn and Tristano represent the progressive, often rebellious, break down the box and build it again attitude of the Red Bull Music Academy and it’s subsequent stage. For the past three years, the Red Bull Music Academy stage has invited artists to perform that are ready to push the boundaries of electronic music to the next level.

Words by Ryan Patrick Hooper with photos by Dustin Downing

After being dosed with a bit of background information on the young band, such energetic showings and oddball bookings should come as no surprise. In their short, six-year career, Ghostland Observatory has remained an isolated, independent entity. With no label, no public relations team and no form of management whatsoever, Turner and Behrens have taken the most hectic path to success by choice. “It always [comes] back to if we felt comfortable giving away something in return for something else,” explains Turner. “We’ve just chosen to do what feels right. Up to this point, we’ve enjoyed doing things the way we want to do them. If we want to go on tour, we go on tour. If we don’t think a certain show is a good idea, we don’t have to play. There is no one telling us where and when we have to be somewhere … or how we should act. … [In] the beginning, it was definitely challenging because your experiencing things for the first time, but we’ve always kept a positive attitude and kept it simple — get on the flight, do the soundcheck, play the show and make it to the next day.”

Throughout Ghostland Observatory’s hour-long set, the audience chanted and cheered between each song as if to root for the underdog duo. After exploring extended takes on tracks from their 2006 debut, Paparazzi Lightning, and eventually wrapping up their set, Thomas and Turner exited the stage exhilarated and sweating — two long-time friends free to shake hands and meet with the crowd with no handlers to swoop them away. “We’ve built everything on word of mouth,” says Turner, “so we always try to bring the band to our live shows.” On Sunday night at the Red Bull Music Academy stage, Ghostland Observatory definitely brought the bang.

Words by Ryan Patrick Hooper with photos by Dustin Downing

While he was raised just across the Detroit River in Windsor, Canada, Hawtin remains a major figure attributed with sparking the fire that was the Detroit techno scene of the early ‘90s. His most established moniker, Plastikman, arrived in the scene at the same time, releasing a trio of acclaimed records — the controversial Sheet One (was it a real sheet of blotter acid featured on the cover?), fan favorite Musik and the Recycled Plastik EP. Hawtin had built the Plastikman name in renegade venues throughout the city then (the infamous party at the abandoned Packard Plant is still brought up each year at Movement), but the preparation for Plastikman’s return was quite a different affair. Hawtin was set to perform behind a 12-foot-tall, 38-feet-wide LED video wall (designed by visual whiz Ali Demirel). Instead of fliers and word of mouth, Hawtin promoted the event by releasing an iPhone app that not only shares Plastikman tour dates but also serves as an interactive device throughout the entire performance. “When we started out, the early Plastikman experience was huge speakers and a strobe light,” explains Hawtin. “But that was physical. It was a dark room and you were just pummeled by sounds and frequencies. This is 2010. Sure, we’ve got some more flashing lights and synchronization, but it’s supposed to be something that comes together and hits you on every level. You’ve got this barrage of color. You’ve got this attack on your ears … the feeling of the bass and the people around you…”

The new Plastikman experience has definitely taken on a new, grander life. An hour before midnight, Hawtin took the stage, the massive shield of LEDs making it nearly impossible to see if an actual person was buried deep inside the shifting colors and designs. Hawtin methodically worked his way through the set, covering his first two releases along with his later work, to present a by-the-book definition of Detroit techno. While the audible chrome of Hawtin’s set was over stimulating at times, the packed main stage howled for more. To close the set and reaffirm Hawtin’s fascination with “man and machine,” the wall of lights and color finally gave way to an actual human being — the deejay himself finally appeared. “Plastikman was always very connected to me being in the studio by myself,” says Hawtin. “We built the stage like me being in the studio, locked away from everybody. [I] thought it was important to finally come out [at the end of the set] and take a step back to the beginning — me and one drum machine, playing around and tweaking something magical out of that. [The show] ended where it all began.”

Words by Ryan Patrick Hooper with photos by Dustin Downing

It’s not easy to describe the sounds of Tokimonsta. An initial impression could you leave in a world as “melodic and sentimental” as the artist herself is cute (see above picture). And even though the 24-year-old Tokimonsta’s catalog is somewhat brief, that initial impression could leave you locked into the wrong idea. Within seconds, this Los Angeles-based, self-proclaimed “jack-of-all-genres” can pull a rough, rugged and hip-hop heavy dose of remixed beats out of her bag and no, she won’t hesitate to use ‘em. “I love listening to varied genres,” says Tokimonsta, “so I wanted something with guitars. I wanted something with soul. I wanted lots of hip-hop in it mixed with that electronic, sonic value. As you create, you realize that the years and years of listening to music expel themselves into whatever music your making.” Kicking things off on Monday afternoon, this is the sort of eclectic thrill that Tokimonsta brought to yet another unique weekend performance on the Red Bull Music Academy stage. ChinaShop caught up with the 2010 Red Bull Music Academy attendee to grab up all the details on how this young deejay came to hone her craft and gain some notoriety with some help from Flying Lotus, the adversity she faced early on in the LA hip-hop community and the broad musical tastes that help keep the audience always guessing.  We had a chance to catch up with Tokimonsta at this year’s Movement Festival and this is what she had to say:

The amount of adorable promo photos of you floating around the web have seemed to keep most from actually digging into how you first became a deejay.

Tokimonsta: First of all, me starting to make music came from my love for music in general. I started off listening to rock and grunge. I eventually grew into a lot of underground and mainstream hip-hop. I have a short attention span, so I’m always seeking out something new — a lot of house, a lot of drum and bass, a lot of jungle. I always wanted to make my own music, but I didn’t really have the tools to get started. My first year of college, a friend of mine suggested that I should try making beats. I kept rolling with it, constantly expanding and buying more hardware and falling in love with it … but I never thought people would want to listen to it! It was purely a hobby … like knitting a sweater for yourself or knitting a sweater for your cat (laughs). All of that would eventually lead up to me competing in beat battles around Los Angeles and losing. I felt really bitter about it because I thought they hated on me because I was a young, Asian girl. Eventually I realized it wasn’t just me — you have to earn your way into it and earn your respect.

When did you realize that your “hobby” had grown into something that could actually pay the bills and keep the lights on in your apartment?

Tokimonsta: I actually used to work in business entertainment and advertising. Due to the poor economy, I was getting constantly laid off. This was right around the time Flying Lotus introduced my music to Mary Ann Hobbs at the BBC. She really pushed my music to her audience … expanding it to a whole new set of people. I eventually said ‘fuck it’ and decided to do it full time. I’ve got the credentials to go back to my old jobs, but I just don’t see that happening. I’ve got lots of friends who hate their jobs but remain there because they can buy their happiness. That just doesn’t work for me.

I’m sure you get asked a lot about the “challenges” being a girl in a male-dominated field, so let’s flip the script — what are the major advantages of being a girl in a male-dominated field?

Tokimonsta: One thing that’s good is that I can get away with sentimental music. In the scene in LA, we are all derivative of hip-hop. We use electronic music, but we’ve got that hip-hop mentality where guys can’t make soft shit — they have to make bangers. For me, I can get away with making things that are a bit more soulful without having to be completely obscure. But at the same time, I don’t want to be pigeonholed. Even though I have these songs that are more melodic and sentimental, I’ll always throw out one that totally bashes it away. If you look around, I’ve got certain songs that are completely angry, loud and obscure. It’s all about balance.

Words by by Ryan Patrick Hooper with photos by Dustin Downing

The culture of Detroit does not rest solely on the shoulders of the Movement festival. Like any major American city, Detroit hosts its annual beacons of pride and popularity — the lauded Detroit International Jazz Festival, downtown’s chilly Winter Blast, the prestigious North American International Auto Show. But often, the shadow cast by these behemoth weekend attractions hides a bustling culture that breeds year-round. Last Thursday evening, as the stages were being erected and the carnival food carts were still jockeying for position before the start of Movement 2010 in Hart Plaza, the Museum of Contemporary Art Detroit (MOCAD) was offering a small sampling of such sophistication.

The MOCAD was welcoming three new exhibitions into its white walls — critically acclaimed Belgian artist Jef Geys’ Detroit-centric Woodward Ave, Design 99 and their take on art, environment and community with Too Much Of A Good Thing and finally LaToya Ruby Frazier’s black-and-white photo exhibit titled Mother May I. To complement the opening of the new installations, Brooklyn-based Japanther (ChinaShop recently caught up with that dude duo at SXSW — check it out here < http://www.chinashopmag.com/2010/03/japanther-rocks-carniville and Detroit locals Tyvek were set to take the stage (or rather a corner of the floor).

After a blistering set from Japanther — complete with dozens of grease-soaked hipsters and their fiercely accessorized (and fiercely attractive) hipsterette counterparts shaking along to the pounding rhythms — Tyvek took to it. Within moments, it was clear the four-piece represented the fading ideal of Detroit’s garage rock past while ushering in a new era of psychedelic, experimental pop songs (regardless of just how fuzzed-out and distorted those pop songs can seem) within the schizophrenic patchwork of the city’s current musical state. Tyvek’s oddly photogenic frontman and lead guitarist Kevin Boyer explained that while the group has performed in galleries before, “the art [of our music] is kind of a separate, unrelated thing,” says Boyer. “[Tyvek] is a smack on the ass and a punch in the face. We’ve played a lot of galleries where people don’t know what’s going on” when the band takes the stage. Throughout Tyvek’s hour-plus set, the never-waning hipsterati were truly treated with a punch in the face from the type of performance art that can’t help but be amplified — a refreshing taste of life outside the Detroit techno

Words by Ryan Patrick Hooper with photos by Dustin Downing

Most people wouldn’t throw a Crystal Method CD into their car stereo and describe the duo as “musical entrepreneurs ahead of their time.” But the oddball business description would be more than fitting. Before electronic music was granted the same avenues of exposure as your run-of-the-mill Top 40 pop hits, Scott Kirkland and Ken Jordan of the Crystal Method were exploring alternative routes of rocking the masses to great success. “We can’t help it that we’re sexy! We can’t help it that everyone wants us!” laughs Kirkland, the vodka and Red Bull rushing to his head backstage at the intimate Vain Ultra Lounge in downtown Detroit. “But we did wrestle with the concept of [commercializing our music] early on. We were like, ‘Fuck you! Fuck money! We’re hardcore!’ … We were young, dumb and passionate.”

It might’ve started with a softcore GAP commercial, but the Los Angeles-via-Las Vegas boys of the Crystal Method didn’t stop there. The deejays continued racking up television, film, video game soundtrack and commercial credits like a rabid Pac-man hungry for points. Over 30 big budget films and a gracious handful of video games have been graced with their fierce, rock-charged brand of techno within a short 12 years. “Wrestling with an idea for us is kind of like the war on terror — where do I aim? Where do I swing?” continues Kirkland. “In the end … the idea is that we’re not specifically making music for commercials. These tracks are already out there in the ethos.” Adds an equally buzzed Jordan, “There’s some nasty shit going on to our music that we don’t even know about (laughs). Think of all the different ways our music is enjoyed! Once [we] got past that, [we] realized it’s wasn’t ours anymore.”

Once Kirkland and Jordan put down the vodka and took over the stage, the cinematic appeal of the Crystal Method was hard to deny. With only 200 or so patrons jammed into Vain the night before Movement 2010 was set to kick off (a cozy number of fans compared to the duo’s gig at Red Rocks in Denver the following night), their set didn’t sound like typical Saturday night club fare from out in the streets. It became a living, breathing, punch you in the face and pull you by the hair soundtrack — a raunchy sex scene fueled by simplistic, crunchy bass lines; a riveting car crash powered by thundering yet precise drums. Kirkland and Jordan served as the directors for the night’s film, constantly working the crowd and pushing the intensity towards a Hollywood climax with each track. Their performance proved it was never about selling records or using their music to sell jeans to middle aged women. With one last sip, Kirkland wrangled it all into perspective — “we love the music, we love the culture, we love the vibe.” Roll the credits.

Words by Ryan Patrick Hooper with photos by Dustin Downing