For someone from Denmark, rated as having the happiest population on earth, the music of singer-songwriter Amalie Bruun is filled with moody and melancholic sounds from low-fi guitars and tambourines reminiscent of alternative rock bands of the 80s and 90s. Born and raised outside Copenhagen, Amalie was brought up in a musical household which prompted her at the age of 20 to busk on the streets of Paris, London and Amsterdam before getting into songwriting for other musicians in Stockholm. One of these songs she recorded herself; ‘If You Give it Up’ ultimately became the theme song of Denmark’s version of the television series ‘Paradise Hotel.’

Her move to New York in 2009 after winning the NY Songwriting Circle’s International Award in 2008 has not only altered her musical style but has introduced her to some of the city’s most influential artists, allowing her to embark on a diverse slate of creative projects. These include her latest EP Flesh & Ghost, shooting a Chanel commercial with renowned filmmaker Martin Scorsese, and working with acclaimed music producer Mark Saunders (The Cure, David Byrne). The Block had the chance to talk with the rising artist about these things as well as her love of Scandinavia, Nirvana and the challenges of being a young musician.

The Block: Where do you come from and how did you first fall in love with playing music?

Amalie Bruun: I grew up north of Copenhagen right by the sea and the forest in a musical circus: my father is a songwriter and guitar player so it all started very early for me. I started writing songs when I was a kid and I played with my dad.

TB: You started at a young age busking on the streets of various cities around Europe; have you incorporated those experiences into your songs at all?

AB: Not so much the songwriting, but I did that because I was too afraid to go on stage. I had never played a show when I was 20. I could barely play for my own family, so I thought I’d go play on the streets because they’re so ungrateful, they just don’t care. It did help me to not be so shy, and it still affects me in a positive way.

TB: Does being from Denmark and Scandinavia inform your music? Do you feel like a Danish musician?

AB: Not particularly, I am very Scandinavian and I love Scandinavian composers. I grew up playing the violin so I love classical music. As for now, I’m inspired by the whole world, so what is Danish music really?

TB: You left there for New York a few years ago, how did that come about? AB: I lived in Stockholm right before and I was actually going to move there permanently for some years and work with musicians there and then I kind of saw into the future and asked myself where was it I wanted to be, and that was New York. So why stay in Stockholm? Why not move? So, I just booked a ticket and ended up there. I think a lot of New York people do that right? You just jump on a plane, sleep on people’s couches for three months and then all of a sudden something happens that makes you stay, and then you’re stuck, in a good way. TB: Did that move to New York and your time there change your style and sound at all?

AB: Very much, but the essence of what I play is the same as when I was a young child. I played with a band called MINKS in New York, they’re still playing but I decided to focus on my own stuff. They’re sort of more new wave-y, and all those genres that are big in Brooklyn right now, so that inspired me a lot. Life here can be tough and lonely at times, which is a cliche but the good thing about writing music and playing songs is that you can use that for something good.

TB: You’re working with music producer Mark Saunders for your next EP. Could you tell us more about what the mood and the sound of that will be?

AB: It’s going to be very whimsical and light and kind of eerie as well. He and I both love bands such as The Sundays and Mazzy Star, that vibe of the 90s. There is also a Rolling Stones cover on there as well, so some kind of 60s vibe as well. A little surf-y guitar; I have a new guitar and a tambourine so that will also be on there.

TB: Being a young musician or artist can be quite trying. Have you faced many challenges? What were some of your biggest ones?

AB: Yes, you have to pay rent right? But I have a very nice Irish landlord who is old and does not care if the rent is late, just as long as it’s there. My deposit for this apartment in the East Village was ten dollars, he was just like (puts on an Irish accent): “Just pay me ten dollars, its fine!” (laughs). But, New York can be incredibly judgmental, so sometimes I just want to move to the forest and play music because then I’d be happy. There’s a lot of stuff you have to deal with, all the time, but I think it’s hard for everyone.

TB: Do you have any dream musical collaborations?

AB: Keith Richards. That would be fun, that would be really great.

TB: That would be a very epic collaboration.

AB: Yes, that’s also how I felt about working with Martin Scorsese, you know I had never done any movies or anything before and here he is telling me how to act, it was amazing.

TB: Let’s talk about working with Martin Scorsese. How was it to meet him? Is he as intimidating as he could be?

AB: There is absolutely nothing intimidating about him, he’s so kind, so sweet, just rocking the eyebrows. I was in his office; he doesn’t even have a computer, it’s filled with books and there’s a little phone with a little old circular dial. He was going to brief me about the commercial and I thought we were going to talk about the role but all he wanted to talk about was music. He saw the ring I had on and he was like, ‘Oh that’s the one Keith (Richards) has!’ He also talked about shooting ‘Shine a Light’ [2008 Rolling Stones documentary directed by Scorsese] and how they zoomed up on the ring.

He also asked for a copy of the EP, and I told him he can check out my older stuff online and he just laughed and told me to look around his office to see if he had a computer.

TB: There seem to be a lot of young Scandinavian musicians making it big these days [Oh Land, Robyn, The Raveonettes, Lykke Li]; does their success encourage you at all?

AB: Well, I think it’s great that there is a lot of focus on them right now and yeah, it’s inspiring. I haven’t thought about that before, really. I mean, I was here in New York before a lot people I know that are here now but I was never thinking that being from Denmark would make it more difficult. I mean, look at Bjork, she did it before.

TB: What is next for you? Where can we see you in the near future?AB: The EP I’m working on with Mark Saunders is the next thing, alongside a music video with an amazing photographer named Kava Gorna.

TB: Any plans to come back to Europe soon?

AB: I hope so, I miss Scandinavia so much, it’s aching in my heart.

Interview Alexander LeRose

Big Freedia is a New Orleans rapper who uses the feminine pronoun despite the fact that she is a tall African-American man with a penchant for wearing sequined jackets and capes. At any of her notorious live gigs, the following scenario unfolds: when the beat kicks in, Freedia, like a shamanic conjurer, shouts the hypersexual lyrics to her anthem “Azz Everywhere” while scantily-clad ladies race to the front. Men are relegated to the back, and there’s an onslaught of booty shaking so intense it looks as though someone may become pregnant via immaculate conception. “There’s always a lot of energy,” she explains enthusiastically over the phone in her sweet-yet-authoritative Southern drawl. “No matter when I hit the floor, I make ‘em shake. I make ‘em work hard. When I come, the party starts.”

In the early 1990s, New Orleans gave birth to a subgenre of hip-hop known simply as “bounce,” characterized by mixing call-and-response lyrics with Mardi Gras Indian chanting atop fast paced, bassheavy beats. More recently, a niche string of bounce artists identifying as gay or queer (Freedia included) have entered the limelight under the moniker “sissy bounce.” Yet many of them have expressed negative feelings towards this descriptor, preferring to think of themselves as part of the style at large.

Most bounce tracks, including many that Freedia rhymes over, derive from speeding up samples from just two songs, Derek B.’s “Rock the Beat” and Showboys’ “Drag Rap,” both from the mid-80s. On “Gin in My System,” Freedia’s ode to aggro party fun, she screams to the audience, “I got that gin in my system!” to which the throngs reply, “Somebody gon’ be my victim!” She then proceeds to instruct dancers to “shake,” “work,” “rock,” and “bounce” their asses on repeat, at lightning speed. “Bounce music is so easy to write, and that’s what’s so fun about it,” she says. “You can play with just about anything off your head.”

A few years ago, as the bounce phenomenon widened due to artists’ displacement in the wake of Hurricane Katrina, live bounce gigs began receiving harsh criticism for their overt displays of female sexuality. In a summer 2010 New York Times Magazine feature, Freedia’s DJ Rusty Lazer countered that bounce has reinvented the punk music ethos for women, creating a safe space where they can feel empowered. They’re not dancing like this for men, after all — they’re doing it for themselves, and, moreover, they’re doing it for Freedia. “When the ladies get up to show their talents and work out for me, it’s my moment right there, and I don’t want anybody to interrupt the show,” she asserts. “When the guys try to touch them and do something foolish, I step up. And the guys respect me, and all they do is bow down, and the show keeps going forward.”

If her music career should fall through at any point, Freedia has a backup plan: interior decorating, which has been a passion of hers for some time. She cites the New Orleans mayoral office as one of her clients, and has spent four years as their official decorator. “They’d give me a budget, I went out and bought everything I wanted to buy, and I went in and transformed it,” she proudly explains.

Lucky for fans, Freedia won’t have to resort to full-time wallpapering yet. She is currently working on a new album, The Reality Show, which should be out in early 2012. Bounce’s energy isn’t as apparent when recorded as it is in the flesh, though, so for now, she’s touring with dancers to spread New Orleans flair across the globe. “Some people don’t know what they’re gonna see, but they’ve heard about it and are excited about what may be in store for them,” she declares. “I’m just there to entertain and do the best show possible.”

Writer Ali Gitlow Photographer Bon Duke

A longer version of this story appears in Issue 25 of The Block, available on newsstands, via subscription, or from Zinio.

On Chuck: Hat, Sweatshirt and Printed Shorts, Givenchy; On Mikey: Vest, Sweatshirt and Shorts, Rick Owens

When Fish Ride Bicycles, The Cool Kids’ debut album, has been a long time in the making – with an original release date in 2008, some fans were skeptical about whether it would ever see the light of day. But with their label issues behind them and a new deal with Mountain Dew’s Green Label Sound, the Chicago/Detroit-based rappers are once again on every indie hip hop lover’s radar. Chuck Inglish and Mikey Rocks gave us a few minutes to tell us about the album, working with Pharrell, and partying on the road.

The Block: When Fish Ride Bicycles was slated for a 2008 release. You released two EPs and several mix tapes in the interim. That’s pretty impressive. Care to comment on why things were held up?

Chuck Inglish: Certain business situations had to be taken care of. But we used the time wisely — we toured non-stop, put out a bunch of music, collaborated with a lot of other people and grew as artists.

The Block: I imagine the tracks kept changing as you landed some pretty serious guest appearances. How did those come about?

Chuck: Through our personal relationships via the music business… We also worked with people that have always been supporters of us, or folks that have meant something to us as we came up in the music business.

The Block: So, did you make all the beats for the album?

Chuck: I did, except for two. One Pharrell did himself, then the other was a Neptunes production.

The Block: How was it working with Pharrell and The Neptunes?

Chuck: It was a great experience. The Neptunes influenced our generation, and also their production was a big part of the movement we grew up on. To see what they thought of us and our music meant a lot. Our album was about done and then Pharrell sat down with us, reviewed it and gave us some music that fit the concept, but also completed it.

On Mikey Rocks: Jacket, Shirt and Hat, Lanvin

The Block: What are you bumping these days?

Mikey Rocks: I’m bumping a lot of new rappers, stuff out of the West Coast: Dom F. Kennedy, Kendrick Lamar, Mac Miller, Casey Veggies, The Stepkids… I think they’re on Stones Throw.

The Block: Cool. What do you think about the current state of music?

Chuck: There’s always really good stuff out, if people are paying attention. I appreciate the sort of mainstream switchback of people wanting to see again what’s good, instead of what’s popular.

The Block: I think major labels have dictated the taste for so long. It’s just like, that’s what’s on the radio, so people just eat it, rather than being like, is this actually what’s good?

Chuck: Yeah, yeah, yeah. People haven’t cared about what’s good in a minute. It’s kind of like fast food for a minute there, they were making so much money, so they would supersize it and they didn’t have any healthy choices on the menu and no facts about calories and shit until the last two years. Now there’s like side salads and healthier options, and like, they got smoothies with real fruit…

The Block: Don’t eat that shit though, that’s not even real.

Chuck: Now they’ve cut that off ‘cause that wasn’t good for people. Now they’re actually making sure that they market their whole campaign on being quality.

The Block: Artists need to be pretty innovative when it comes to monetizing their work these days. What trends or patterns do you see in the industry?

Mikey: Before, you could make money off record sales — the world doesn’t give a fuck about that now. It’s all about what you’re selling music on — record labels haven’t developed a way to sell your music, like the actual technology, then they sat and bitched about losing money. They weren’t making money because they weren’t forward thinking. Right now, we’re at the end of the ringtone craze.

The Block: Tell me about your label.

Mikey: Green Label Sound puts out independent artists. They give a push to independent artists that run their own show. They have resources to tap into and longer reach, but you gotta have your own style.

On Chuck Inglish: Lurex Polo, Prada; Pants, Siki Im; Sunglasses, Oliver Peoples

The Block: “Swimsuits” was used in a Mountain Dew commercial. How do you feel about commercial tie-ins like that? Do you think the notion of selling out is even relevant in an industry where artists are increasingly reliant on licensing/publishing deals to support themselves?

Chuck: In our opinion selling out is making a song on your album with the direct intent to get an audience you have no desire to appeal to. People who listen to us drink Mountain Dew when they skate, ride their bike, etc. It fits our culture.

The Block: So what’s cool about being a touring artist and having fans know your material?

Mikey: Moving around, touring, going different places you’re not from, having people know your songs and see that they’re feeling them and having a good time to your music — that’s definitely the coolest part about it.

The Block: True. What sucks about it?

Chuck: Nothing. What sucks about someone liking your music? Nothing can suck about that.

The Block: I know for some artists the touring can be kinda hard, like if you’re on the road for a long time it can take its toll on people.

Chuck: Certain people are supposed to do this shit, and some people want to do this shit; there’s a difference. If you want to, then that’s when that stuff starts becoming an issue, like “Oh, I haven’t been home in six months,” or “I miss my dad.” If you’re supposed to be doing something, you’re like, “I’ll get home when I get there.”

The Block: Yeah, that’s true. It’s dedication.

Chuck: If you’re that driven and that determined, even if you suck, you can probably make a song that gets on the radio and you can tour. I’ve seen those type of people complaining about touring.

The Block: Or they’re just old. I have a feeling you guys are probably in your early 20s still, right? So…

Chuck: We’re not old at all.

The Block: No. I think if you’re an artist and you’re 40, it just changes… it can be, like, where you’re at in life.

Chuck: U2 and all those other bands, they’re like 40 and 50 touring the shit outta the world. Honestly, I still think it’s attitude, ‘cause you gotta like this shit from day one, ‘cause it’s not fun in the beginning. It actually gets better as you get a grip on your routine and how you do things.

The Block: Yeah, like partying too much and all that.

Chuck: Yeah, like there’s no other job in the world where you party before you go. At some point in time you still gotta do some work. Everything’s not just a performance.

Interview Geneva Bokowski Photographer Ryan Pfluger Fashion Editor Rich Aybar

A longer version of this story appears in Issue 25 of The Block, available on newsstands, via subscription, or from Zinio.

Whenever a touring musician rolls into a new town, there are certain must-Google spots: the closest Guitar Center, the cleanest laundromat, the cheapest auto body shop. Or, in the case of Toronto electro-goth contingent Austra, the nearest Whole Foods.

For a band that maps out their travel itinerary based on organic grocery pit stops, it seems bizarre to meet ringleader Katie Stelmanis in a Toronto bar that hawks prehistoric pickled eggs and platters of sandwich meat. But Stelmanis, with her dyed blonde hair and metallic necklaces piled one upon another, is perfectly at home with such contradictions.

Onstage, the bold 26-year-old, with her octave-shattering voice, is the centerpiece of the show. “I’ve been performing since I was 10 or 11 in lots of different ways, like recitals or full-on operas, so the stage has always felt very comfortable to me,” she says, leaning back on one of the retro vinyl chairs that decorate the tiny watering hole dubbed “The Commie” (its actual name is the Communist’s Daughter, after the Neutral Milk Hotel song). Offstage, though, Stelmanis shields herself from both record and ticket sales, still lacking confidence in the hype that has propelled the trio into the pages of Vanity Fair and earned their latest album, Feel It Break, a coveted spot on Domino Records’ UK roster.

“It’s just too much pressure, it’s too stressful,” says Stelmanis of tracking the economics behind her career. “I just like to have my dates and go to the next city.”

Nursing a cider, the singer-keyboardist chats about her anything-goes thrift-store-fashion style and weighs in on the new Chrissie Hynde-inspired hairdo the Fiery Furnaces’ Eleanor Friedberger is sporting as of late. It’s downtime that Stelmanis seems to need — just a few moments to step outside of the media juggernaut that now factors into her day.

Though the whirlwind pace can take its toll — yes, even when you’re performing in exotic locales like Prague and Istanbul, as Austra will this fall — Stelmanis doesn’t allow herself much time to dwell on sleep deprivation. There will be time for exhaustion later. First, there’s this business of touring, then tapping into the inspiration for the next record, for which fans are already clamouring.

“Before I was touring a lot, I was trying to sort out where we wanted to go with the next one,” says Stelmanis. “Now I’m getting excited to get back into the studio; I’m starting to get ideas again.” Though recording is on her mind, she adds, “I like taking the break, ‘cause [touring is] a totally different mode.”

While a true-blue follow up to Feel It Break’s noirtinged numbers is a ways off, Austra may still pump out the odd one-off track in the meantime, as they did with “Alone, Together” for Stereogum’s recent Strokes cover comp, STROKED: A Tribute to Is This It. “I like vocal acrobatic covers, songs that are made for singers; I just go for it,” says Stelmanis upon mention of the project. “I’ve done Roy Orbison’s ‘Crying’ and I’ve done ‘Natural Women’ and the ‘Woodstock’ cover.”

Moments later she’s bent over the jukebox at the back of the bar perusing records by Jonathan Richman, Caribou and Queen. It’s the 1979 anthem “Heartbreaker” that catches her eye. As Pat Benatar’s ferocious voice booms through The Commie’s speakers, it’s oh so tempting to ask Stelmanis what she’d do with the classic hit if given the chance to Austra-fy it.

Writer Jenny Charlesworth Photographer Bon Duke

A quick visit to YACHT’s website makes it clear that the unconventional duo behind the triangle icon approaches the whole “band thing” a little differently. Proclaiming themselves not just a band, but a “belief system” (complete with lessons in “YACHT semiotics,” a list of “recommended mantras,” and an official YACHT tattoo policy), they believe that you, me, and everyone around us are all “small gods.” They are also under the impression that guitars are totally refreshing and new; at least, according to Claire Evans, the fairer half the partnership, they’re new to YACHT.

Initially conceived as the solo bedroom act of Jona Bechtolt, with Evans joining the band in 2008, YACHT’s sound has undergone constant evolution. “We don’t want to be the same band forever,” says a jet-lagged Evans, calling from her Portland, Oregon home after returning from a European tour. “We never want to make the same record twice, and we try to make each show different.” And really, if the energetic opening guitar of “Utopia,” the first track off of their most recent effort Shangri-La, is indicative of anything, it’s that this incarnation of YACHT is not the same band that released the down-tempo, experimental electropop that was 2009’s See Mystery Lights. Instead, they’ve diversified, not just their disco-punk aesthetic, but also the instruments used to create it — hence their newfound interest in guitars.

In part, this growth can be attributed to moving from the confines of an apartment into a recording studio, another first. Even still, they didn’t use the studio as most bands do. “We didn’t write anything beforehand,” Evans explains. “We had an engineer set up little stations for us, like a guitar station, drum station, and a keyboard station, then he got the hell out of there and left us the keys.” For two weeks, the band lived in the studio, writing all the songs there in an effort to detach themselves from “engrained rituals [that] make it hard to expand” and create “a very real, pure document of exactly that time.” This method gave Shangri-La the space to blossom into a more complex and organic record than allowed by the single-mic, single-computer approach of their previous albums.

As might be expected with a title referring to a mythical city, Shangri-La’s running theme is utopia, and how to attain it. Though the writing and recording were concentrated in the studio, the concept emerged in the Western America Utopian Triangle, defined by the band as the area between Portland, Los Angeles, and Marfa, Texas. Evans explains that this triad holds spiritual and historical importance to the band, linked to some of the happiest moments in their lives (See Mystery Lights was written in Marfa, and the pair admit to having a shared mystical experience in the Texas desert). Instead of offering a conclusion to the band’s philosophical investigation, Shangri-La proposes that the quest for utopia — or, “no place” — lies in the search itself.

In keeping with this spiritual ethos, YACHT resolves to be “on tour forever.” Currently, the band is recovering from an Eastern European tour, which took them to the likes of Poland and Slovakia for the first time. Next comes a brief Pacific North West swing followed by one-off festival appearances. Ask them if they’ll play in your hometown; chances are the answer will be: “YACHT says yes.” While the members of YACHT seek a spiritual high through their music, they are well aware that to many people, they simply make great “lose your brain, repetitive pop music.” But that won’t stop them from issuing manifestos; after all, as they sing on Shangri-La, “there’s nothing in the future, it’s up to us to make.” For YACHT and their followers, the path to utopia will admittedly be long and strange; at least now they have guitars.

Writer Jamie Cessford Photographer Chris Clinton

A longer version of this story appears in Issue 25 of The Block, available on newsstands, via subscription, or from  Zinio.

Harp strings echo soft and evocative tones, as the haunting hymns gradually flood your ear drums. A trumpet commandingly chimes in, and 15 seconds later you are met with a voice that sounds as though it has been stripped straight from the almighty Apollo himself. Enter Active Child, the musical undertaking of vocalist, harpist and Los Angeles resident Pat Grossi.

Immersed in music since a young child, Grossi sang in the Philadelphia Boys Choir until he was 13. It was an endeavor that he now owes to his ongoing appreciation for choral music, which is obvious upon first listen to his debut album, You Are All I See. In response, images of cathedrals and the Holy Trinity may comes to mind. However, Grossi’s musical inspiration runs much deeper than his choir-boy roots. Hip-hop rhythm structures, paired with new-wave electronic undertones are built in. The result is a sound that distinguishes the singer from Bon Iver, James Blake and White Rabbit, to whom he’s often compared. Active Child may not be a daily listen, but You Are All I See is pure escapism, a push to search inwards and allow yourself to get lost, if only for a moment.

The Block: Why did you decide to record under Active Child, rather than your own name?

Active Child: First off, I don’t think that my name is that interesting. Maybe if I had a really cool name I would have used it as my band name. But I (also) think I just wanted a little bit of separation between me, as an individual, and me as a musician. I think it adds a little bit of mystique and the name itself creates some imagery that can play back to the way the music sounds.

TB: What does the name Active Child mean to you?

AC: It stems from a lot of stories that my mom has told me about when I was growing up as a little guy – just being obsessed with sounds and speakers, running around with my little Fisher-Price microphone. I was carefree and fearless in a lot of ways when I was little, which I think is something important when you’re creating music. Not focusing on what other people are going to think, and being confident in what you’re doing.

TB: What were you doing before you started making music as Active Child?

AC: I was just working a 9 to 5. I lived in Denver and worked at a non-profit environmental group. I was doing some fundraising and finance for them. I did some fundraising and accounting for the Obama campaign in Denver as well. I was just working a day job and when it came time to take the next position, I ended up passing it off and quitting my job because I was wanted to start pursuing music. I’m lucky that it has worked out.

TB: In what ways was You Are All I See a more explorative process compared to your EP, Curtis Lane?

AC: The EP for me was just really early in my recording and experimenting with my sound and voice. So with the album, I felt like I got into my zone and understood what it was I wanted to do. I was much more focused on creating a cohesive piece, as opposed to a collection of songs I’d made that I liked. I also wanted to focus on creating a mood that crossed into each song so that it felt like one, a whole piece, at the same time.

TB: How would you describe the mood that’s carried through the album?

AC: It’s got a haunting vibe to it, but in a pretty way. Some sort of baroque cathedral-esque sound.

TB: There are religious tones in your music; are you a religious person?

AC: I don’t go to church per se, but I definitely have intense curiosity for the superstitious mystique that is involved with religion. I went to a Catholic high school in California. I’d never really been exposed to religion, especially Christianity. So, it was an interesting period for me – learning about that stuff and being around people who were raised that way, without really questioning much about it. I was the new kid that had all these questions about what everyone was talking about.

TB: Your dad worked for Priority Records (a hip-hop label), in what ways did growing up in that musical environment influence your style?

AC: Since my dad was involved with that company, there was just a ton of free music lying around, which was mostly hip-hop and rap. He wasn’t by any means listening to hip-hop either; he would sit at home and listen to Tom Petty or Fleetwood Mac. But all my brothers were very much into hip-hop and rap. And half the time, whatever they thought was cool, I thought was cool, and so I fell in love with it. I still love it now. I think it has influenced me in a lot of ways. It’s affected a lot of the drum sounds I choose and even some of the rhythm structures that I put together tend to have hip-hop structure to them. It was a combination of that, and everything that my dad was listening to, because he was a huge music-head, just like I am.

TB: Until recently you were touring as a two-man show with Stratton Easter. Why did you feel it necessary to orchestrate a band?

AC: For me it was the only way to get out there and make [the experience] feel good to me, to make it feel authentic. I wanted to have people there to perform it with me. There isn’t any other way of doing it. We played as a two-piece for a while, and it felt good but it never felt like enough to me. So we’re just continuing to flesh out the sound and really make the performance feel as genuine for us up on stage, as it does for the people in the audience – they want to see everything happening, they don’t want to hear you just playing a song.

TB: Does it frustrate you when you’re compared to other artists, like Bon Iver or James Blake?

AC: It’s definitely flattering to be compared to artists like that, but I think it’s a little frustrating when people say that you’re trying to imitate their sound or something like that.

TB: What’s one thing you hope listeners walk away feeling after listening to your album?

AC: I guess, more than anything, I want the listeners to have a chance to sit and look at their own personal reflections based on the music. I want them lose themselves in it – at least that’s what I’m hoping for.

Writer Melissa Renwick

On the cover of Zonoscope, the third album from Australian electropop superstars Cut Copy, a river flows through New York, descending from the heights of the Chrysler and Empire State buildings as an unimpeded waterfall. The surreal image, created by late Japanese photomontage artist Tsunehisa Kimura, sets the stage for the record’s dreamy sound. Framing the flooded cityscape is the fictional zonoscope that the album is named for. “The zonoscope is this lens that you look through to see into this ot her world that we’ve created making this record,” explains frontman Dan Whitford.

Cut Copy removed themselves from the outside world to record Zonoscope, taking refuge in an old warehouse in Melbourne. Whitford credits the isolated environment as essential to developing their sound, allowing the band “a chance to follow ideas through uninhibited and unhindered.” This is in stark contrast to their first album, Bright Like Neon Love, which the band recorded in half a day, and In Ghost Colours, produced in a New York studio with DFA’s famed producer Tim Goldsworthy. As a direct result of this creative introspection, Zonoscope is far more cohesive than past efforts, a 70s- and 80s-influenced album made for a full-length listen. “It’s got a particular feel about it and the sound of the record is a lot more consistent throughout,” Whitford says.

Whitford confesses that a lot of the records that inspired Zonoscope came from musicians whose lifestyle and sound was heavily shaped by drugs, from The Rolling Stones to the Happy Mondays and early 80s house music. Perhaps fuelled by this legacy of druggy dance and party music, the band became obsessed with really letting go on repetitive, trance-like expressions of sound. “Not trance music, but the kind of music that would put you into a trance,” Whitford says. The “crazy burn” of dance music is tough to separate from Australia’s drug culture, and Cut Copy acknowledges the connection – with a wry caveat. “It’s hard to pull apart these two things; it’s almost like they intertwine in a certain way. Although having said that, I don’t think you need to take drugs to enjoy our records,” Whitford says. “Hopefully they’re interesting enough on their own.”

Writer Melissa Renwick Photographers Timothy Saccenti & Shibon Kennedy

A version of this story appears in Issue 24 of The Block, available from Zinio.

Eleanor Friedberger, photo by Michael Rubenstein

Since 2003, Eleanor Friedberger has been working relentlessly as the fairer half of brother-sister duo, the Fiery Furnaces, who have released nine records within six years. While the hard work has clearly paid off, the songstress felt that it was time to take a step back from the Fiery Furnaces and stand alone with the release of her first solo record, Last Summer. (Don’t go getting your knickers in a twist, because this does not mean the end of the Fiery Furnaces). With fear of regret and the realization that she isn’t getting any younger, Friedberger – who appears to share the same gene pool as Patti Smith – felt that the timing was right and went forth to produce one doozy of a solo album. Weaving in autobiographical accounts line-by-line, verse-by-verse, song-after-song, Friedberger’s sing-talk vocals only heighten the album’s sense of intimacy. It’s like listening to the quirky musician read a segment of the diary she wrote last summer.

The Block: Why did you feel the need to venture off on your own with Last Summer?

Eleanor Friedberger: (giggles) I think it’s funny the way that people put it in different ways. You say “venture off” like I’m going on an expedition, and I guess that is what it’s like. I just wanted to try something new. I feel like I’m getting older, and I don’t want to have any regrets in life, and I don’t mean for it to be this bleak thing. It’s something that people have always asked me about, and something that I’ve always had in the back of my mind and the timing was right. I didn’t want to regret not challenging myself.

TB: Why didn’t you feel the need to do this prior to now?

EF: That’s a good question. I think you get caught up in what you’re doing. I mean the Fiery Furnaces made a lot of records in a short amount of time, both my brother and I like to keep very busy, and we were just in a cycle of making a record every year, and touring it every year. And when we did have a little bit of time, I didn’t want to be making music. My brother, on the other hand, made a two-disc solo record, but that’s just the difference in our personalities.

TB: To me, your lyrics sound very spontaneously written. Very real, and never over-considered, so much so that as a listener I feel like we’re old friends and you’re recounting a past memory. Can you describe your songwriting process?

EF: Yeah. I mean, you said it perfectly. With some songs, I had long scripts, but it was just me writing down some stories and memories, and the way that some songs got pieced together was spontaneous. Or I would start out with a few set lines and them I’d improvise – not in the studio, but at home. It was very much a collection of fragmented ideas and memories. Like the song “Inn At the Seventh Ray,” which is about a trip to Los Angeles, and each verse is about a different friend that I met there.

Eleanor Friedberger, photo by Rebecca Bengal

TB: You’ve mentioned that “Scenes from Bensonhurst” was about losing your anonymity, because of the internet. Why then do you choose to write you lyrics as autobiographical accounts?

EF: There’s no secrets anymore, huh? I don’t keep a diary, I write songs. I don’t want to call it catharsis, because it’s not that, it’s just a way to keep my memories and my thoughts alive. It’s fun, I always like to write songs for friends, and honour a memory, an experience or time that I’ve had. That’s more the way I like to think about it. Whether they’re good experiences or bad experiences – it’s like writing a letter.

TB: What do you feel personal songs lend to a song that fiction cannot?

EF: It’s almost kind of lazy on my part – I’m not using any imagination. But I realize I have an audience, and want people to be able to relate to the songs, and sometimes when it sounds personal, you get the feeling across. But I love story-songs and songs that are made up.

TB: Like you mentioned, your album is a very personal one, so I’m sure that each song means something different to you, but if you had to choose one, which speaks the most to you?

EF: They all do … maybe I have a soft spot for the song “One Month Marathon” – every line in the song references something, it’s all very specific. When I wrote it, it just poured out. It was finished in like 10 minutes. I had a friend staying with me at the time, and he went out for the afternoon to let me have some space and when he came back, I had this song written. It was just a very special moment and it all happened very quickly.

TB: What’s the response been like among the Fiery Furnaces fans?

EF: I don’t know. I mean, I have seen friendly familiar faces. I did a short tour right when the album came out and there were some longtime fans who showed – I haven’t felt the backlash.

TB: Was your brother supportive of your decision?

EF: Oh yeah, totally. He’s my brother, my friend, my companion. He’s always helped me with music and been very supportive.

TB: What would you say the biggest difference between making a solo record versus working alongside someone is?

EF: Well, first of all, you’re never completely alone. I work with a producer, so we’re always bouncing ideas off of each other. I think it’s more about the songwriting, and not having to make any compromises, and ultimately having the final say, which is so gratifying.

TB: This is the first tour you’ve done solo, right?

EF: I did a few shows with a band, when the record first came out. And then I did a 10-day tour on my own, and now I’ll be back with a band.

TB: What was the experience of traveling alone like?

EF: It was fun. I mean it was something entirely different. It wasn’t like being on tour, but it wasn’t like being on a vacation … it felt like work but it was also fun. And I didn’t have to wait around for anyone. It was just me, doing the job that I love. Being on stage alone is both terrifying and really fun. There’s something really commanding and powerful about it.

TB: How did you approach Last Summer differently than all of the other records you crafted as the Fiery Furnaces?

EF: Just the nature of it. My brother and I would sit down, and ask each other what kind of record we wanted to make. What is it going to sound like? What are the songs going to be like? So just not having that dialogue, or only having that dialogue with yourself – which doesn’t really work, talking to yourself. But in a lot of ways it wasn’t that different. I wanted the record to be relatively eclectic, similar to the Fiery Furnaces, where it doesn’t have to be defined by one sound. But at the same time, I knew that because of my limitations musically it would be a much more simple affair. And as I was saying, lyrically it’s all my own personal stories. It’s funny… I say that I’m constricted by my own limitations, but I don’t feel constricted by what kind of music I can make.

TB: What’s next for you?

EF: I’m going to be touring a lot for the rest of the year. I don’t know what the next Fiery Furnaces’ project will be, and I don’t know if I’m going to do another solo project first, or not, but I definitely want to make another record on my own.

Interviewer Melissa Renwick

Kreayshawn is a white female rapper from Oakland. She is tatted up, she wears a lot of eyeliner, and her single “Gucci Gucci” got infinity YouTube views (she received a record deal after it had been online for about two weeks). She is a self-described “Rap Beast” who sometimes dresses up as Minnie Mouse, and is fond of smoking blunts.

She’s also a music video director who has directed videos for Lil B, and just finished a new video for the Red Hot Chili Peppers, joining a roster that includes Gus Van Sant and Mark Romanek.

Lately she’s been at the center of controversy, in part because her fellow White Girl Mob member V-Nasty won’t stop dropping N-bombs like she was Mark Twain.

People have compared her to Ke$ha, accused her of being racist, and implied that she is a poser. It should be no surprise that she is volatile. She calls out mainstream hip hop’s core values with her very existence, and more directly with her single “Gucci Gucci.” The track attacks “basic bitches” for fetishizing designer labels. Juxtaposed with her flamboyant personal style, the message is clear: Be creative, do your own thing, get weird (her name is a play on “creation”). Kreayshawn seems to be offering up a socially conscious message in a society plagued by debt and rampant consumerism.

However, Kreayshawn offers that message up much better in her work than she does in an interview. In her videos and songs, she seems bubbly and fun with no sense of self-awareness, content to be herself and showcase her personal brand. During our interview she speaks in short, fragmented bursts, almost as if she’s shy to be talking to an interviewer.

The Block: What’s a day like for you these days?

Kreayshawn: Well, today I woke up, did some family stuff, now I’m talking to you and later I’m gonna meet up with my DJ and start rehearsing some stuff for the tour.

TB: When does that start?

K: I think the first show is on the 17th in New York, then we’re going from New York to Chicago and LA and San Francisco and Philadelphia…

TB: Cool. Let’s get right into it. You got about a bazillion views on YouTube and then you had all these record companies banging down your door. Why did you decide to go with Sony/Columbia?

K: Well, it was like every single record company you could ever think of … but these people understood what we wanted for our product. Columbia’s got a great artist roster as well.

TB: Are you worried that if you blow up, the record companies will try to screw you? Why didn’t you start your own record label like Jay Z or Dr. Dre?

K: I mean, that’s stuff that I try not to worry about, especially by record companies.

TB: Well, I hope we don’t have to say we told you so… Moving on. How do you think being a woman has helped you so far, and how do you think it’s impeded you?

K: It’s hard for a woman because you want it be a certain way, or run against each other, or battle…

[Long pause]

I think at a certain point it’s just hard to be a woman. It’s a give or take relationship being a woman in this world no matter what you do.

TB: You really aggressively attack a lot of hip hop’s core values with “Gucci Gucci,” especially the consumer-driven side of it. What have the responses to that been like?

K: I’m just doing what I do, you know, I shouldn’t have to worry about responses from everybody I talk to. As far as I know people just deal with it – and especially the younger generation. Those are the people that I’m making music for.

TB: You’re getting recognition not just for blogging, rapping, or making videos, or your style, but for all of it, in a way. You’re kind of like a DIY multi-media superstar. Is there more of that to come? Are you the first of many?

K: I just think music is just kind of evolving. There’s a technological aspect to what’s going on for sure too. Mainly though, I think it comes down to, when I was young, most of the music I listened to was on the radio.

So maybe now someone can hear a crazy song like “Gucci Gucci,” they’re gonna be like, “Wow! I like this more than the last song! Or the song before that!” Hopefully that will inspire a lot of people to go after everything. I mean, I always did everything whether I knew what I was doing or not. I was just playing around with it all. It’s about harnessing your talent and just getting out there.

TB: You just directed a video for the Red Hot Chili Peppers. Can you tell us what that was like?

K: You know, it’s been a great experience. To not just sign this record deal but to have the opportunity to direct a huge set with the Red Hot Chili Peppers. They’re a great band, they’re super cool. It was exciting. Nothing went wrong, it went so perfect, it was super cool. I can’t wait to direct another video.

TB: It seems super random that they picked you to do their video, it’s such a huge opportunity. Do you know why they asked you? What it was they liked about your work?

K: What basically happened was like, they had a couple different directors submit treatments and then they all went over them, and my treatment ended up being the one that got picked.

TB: Sounds like a classic case of someone directing a music video. Who are your rap heroes and who are your video heroes?

K: Definitely people like Hype Williams, A lot of the late 90s, early 90s stuff inspired my vision… And John Waters and all his crazy movies. Kool Keith really inspired me as a rapper, and definitely all the female rappers I listened to kind of daily, like Da Brat. She was hugely inspiring at the time.

TB: What’s happening with the album? Who’s producing?

K: A lot of the work is done. We’ve got work from a lot of people, people like Dame Grease and Two Stacks. We’re working on getting some other people in there too. It’s gonna be a crazy album.

TB: A friend of mine from the Bay Area wants to know if you’ll ever work with E40.

K: Yeah, I’d work with E40 for sure.

TB: I’ll let him know. We only have time for one more question. What do you think hip hop will look like in five years?

K: Well, [there will be] a lot of new artists probably… And just looking at right now, the fact that something like “Gucci Gucci” could play on Top 40 radio means that there’s a lot of new stuff that could come out, potentially.

TB: Thanks Kreayshawn!

K: Yeah, thank you.

Writer Kellen Powell

SebastiAn, photographed by Jean Baptiste Mondino

Despite his 6 years working with Ed Banger records, producing tracks, creating remixes for the likes of Kelis, Klaxons, and Uffie and working alongside French electro alums like Mr. Oizo and Sebastian Tellier, 30-year-old SebastiAn has been a bit of an enigma, granting few interviews or media appearances. But with the release of his excellent debut album Total, SebastiAn decided he was ready to talk, and The Block was lucky enough to score some time with the talented, engagingly personable artist (whose English is charmingly faltering).

The Block: Hi Sebastian. How are you?

SebastiAn: I’m good. Good. You?

TB: I’m great. Thanks for chatting. Congratulations on your debut record, Total, which was released this June. How do you feel?

S: I took my time to produce it, so now I’m starting to see what it’s going to be. I’m not exploding [with excitement], though. I just want to see what’s going to happen.

TB: I was doing some research on you, and it seems like you keep a pretty low profile. There aren’t many interviews with you out there. Why?

S: It’s not voluntary. I never wanted to say anything when I have nothing to say. For example, now I have an album out so I can talk about it. But before, if it’s just saying something to answer to some soft work [remixes], I was never into it. I can talk about the album right now, but talking about what I am thinking during producing was not very [right] to me before having something to really show. That’s all. I don’t talk when I have nothing to say.

TB: Did you have a lot people wanting to talk to you about your remixes, or any previous work?

S: Yeah. They wanted to, but most of the time I try not.

SebastiAn, photographed by Marco dos Santos

TB: Tell me a bit about the album. Has it been a long time in the making?

S: I took my time. The songs everywhere [sounded] the same to me, so I took my time to find a different direction. It also took me a while to finish the album because [French director] Romain Gavras, the guy who did [the music video for] M.I.A’s “Born Free,” he asked me to make the soundtrack to his movie Our Day Will Come. I was finishing my album at the same time. I thought the soundtrack would take one or two months, maximum. In fact, it took way more time, because it’s different to work with a lot of people on a movie. That’s why it took so long, because I was working on two or three things at the same time.

TB: In all, how long did it take to make the record then?

S: The album was almost finished in less than a year, but it took way more time because of all the other projects. I’m not a big calculator, so I can work sometimes without [worrying]. I didn’t have any plans. I was just working and working. And so some people may judge [me for taking so long].

TB: Tell me about the creative process for the album.

S: For me, it was spending the most part of my time in a very small room in front of a computer. [Laughs]. Creating is really different than working with real instruments. With real instruments, you have a physical [bond]. With a computer, it’s not the same. It’s the same as knitting. You knit and you knit and at the end you have your shirt. This was almost like accounting software, the music software was. It’s very slow, not physical, and not direct. It’s special. [Laughs]. I make two or three bases of songs everyday, so in the end I had maybe 60 tracks. But [they] were not very excited to put out an album of 60 tracks. So I just chose like 22.

TB: Did you have any plans for the album when you first started to put the album together?

S: I have just one direction: Not to repeat myself, and not going in the way all the people are going, which is the way of being “hard.” For the most part of music is starting to get harder and harder, and I just wanted to make something more, not sweet, but more like the club but in the house scene.

TB: What influenced you while you were making the record?

S: There is a lot of influence. In fact, it can come from the classic to the contemporary to the experimental to the pop music from the odd to the sweet stuff. Like the Kennedys to gangsta [rap], Missy Elliot, Prince, Wild Cherry, Lightning Bolt … I don’t know. It’s a big mash up of all these things in my mind. I don’t have one thing or one style to represent. I just wanted to make something not as hard as before. Everybody is doing hard music right now. Even me, I just wanted music to listen to at home or in the club.

TB: Did you receive any inspiration from the other artists on your label?

S: Not really. I am working very alone. Maybe just Gaspard [Augé] from Justice, who is a good friend of mine, is sometimes coming to see [how I’m doing], and sometimes I go and see [what he’s doing].

TB: What was it like working with M.I.A. on your track “C.T.F.O.”?

S: I met MIA a few years ago. I think it was in Chicago when I was on tour with Kavinsky. We stayed in touch a little, but when I was working on the soundtrack of Romain Gavras, he also was making a [music video] for M.I.A.’s “Born Free,” so we were not far from each other again. So I just asked her if she wanted to sing on a track. She said yes. I came to London, and it was very fast. I love to work very fast, and she does too. We recorded it in maybe three hours. I like when it’s so easy and it comes directly.

TB: How does it feel being part of Ed Banger Records? Will you always remain on their label?

S: Being in Ed Banger is like being in school. It’s not like having a teacher, but a guy who takes care of you when you’re at school. It’s simple to work with the others because we are friends and it’s not like working in an office. Nobody’s lying to the other. When it’s bad it’s bad, when it’s good everybody [comes together] and talks about the tracks on the way. It’s nice. I’ve always really wanted to have this kind of family feeling.

TB: Now that Total is finished, do you have plans to release another record?

S: I prefer not to talk about it yet, because if it’s not done I never say anything. But yes.

Interviewer Amanda Ash