Tag: Shigeto

Tammy Lakkis Puts Listeners on ‘Notice’ With House Beats and Poetic Lyrics

Photo Credit: Chloe Sells

Places can have a way of rubbing off on people. The longer you’re in an environment, the more likely you are to soak in its sounds, energy and rhythms. At least that’s what happened to Tammy Lakkis. On her debut EP, Notice (out Friday, March 26 via Portage Garage Sounds), Lakkis meshes her background in more traditional songwriting with her last four years as a DJ, where she spent most of her time expanding her knowledge of Detroit’s deep electronic music history and dancing or spinning at Detroit’s hotbed for underground electronic, Motor City Wine (MCW). The result is a richly diverse set of songs, ranging from a gentle conversation with the void in “Hello?” to a forlorn Arabic love song, “Wen Rayeh,” all set to pulsing synths and complex rhythms. 

“I feel like I’ve been living in different worlds genre wise for a while,” says Lakkis, “and instead of choosing one or the other, I just thought, ‘why not do it all?’”

Though the songwriter, producer and DJ has always been interested in expanding her musical skills and influences, her in-depth study of DJing and producing began about four years ago. Lakkis says her main method of learning was just listening to a song – or part of a song – over and over again until she could crack the code on why it made her want to dance. But the best way to learn is by doing, and Lakkis spent many nights at MCW’s “Monday is the New Monday” DJ night, hosted by DJ and producer, Shigeto. Before the lockdown, Monday nights at MCW were a house music lover’s oasis. Untouched by the stain of over-attendance, listeners could go there, bring a glass of wine onto the dancefloor without spilling it, and listen to some of the best DJ sets in the world. This essence of freedom and anonymity bleeds into Lakkis’s music, who both danced and DJed at MCW.

She spent the last two or so years refining her live set, where all of the songs on Notice originated. “I guess this EP is like a snapshot of the best parts of my live set that I was doing,” she says. She also cites DJing as an integral tool in her learning process as a producer. “I think they go hand in hand,” says Lakkis. “A lot of learning to be a producer was just through listening and taking a little bit from different tracks that I was finding when I was DJing and learning from them.” 

It makes sense, then, that Notice immediately transports the listener to a dimly lit dance floor, filled with bodies engrossed in their own escapism. The EP’s title track starts with a vibrating, four-on-the-floor beat that introduces the setting and immediately invites movement. Lakkis’s voice cascades over the synths and polyrhythms beckoning the listener into the here and now: “Oh when you walked this way before/I didn’t notice but now I notice/And when the wind howled its song/I didn’t notice/but the destruction I notice.” The simple but poetic lyricism focuses on the importance in being present and the positivity that a mindful existence can bring. Whether it’s really seeing a person who’s been in your orbit for a while or taking the time to appreciate nature, being present can bring about peace or unexpected connection. 

Poetry lies at the heart of Lakkis’s lyricism in “Wen Rayeh” as well. The english translation of the first few lyrics reads, “My heart has dried/Under a strong sun/Like the dried mint on the towel,” a strong opener to a sprawling song meditating on the uncertainty of falling in love. Lakkis says writing this song in Arabic was a refreshing experience for her, as her conversations in Arabic with family generally don’t contain poetic vocabulary. “I speak [Arabic] very brokenly but it was my first language I knew before I knew English,” she says. “I thought it would be a cool opportunity to connect with that part of myself that I feel I’m disconnected with here, just speaking in English all the time and not being around my community.”

Lakkis, whose parents emigrated from Lebanon, explains that the pressure to assimilate to “American” culture robs many first-generation folks of a connection to their own. “There’s definitely a disconnect you feel when you’re first gen,” she explains, “and a sense of not really belonging anywhere.” But Lakkis sounds at home on “Wen Rayeh,” her celestial vocals floating over singular, Detroit house-infused production. It’s a pairing you won’t hear anywhere else, and part of what makes Lakkis’s music so enticing and pleasing to the ear. 

All of the songs on Notice show the artist at her core – a storyteller, producer and student of Detroit house, weaving the best of her influences together to create something entirely her own.

Follow Tammy Lakkis on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram for ongoing updates.

Kesswa Collabs with Shigeto on MOCAD-Commissioned Short Film “Is My Mind A Machine Gun?”

Photo Credit: Ian Solomon // Makeup: Jay Orellana

Is My Mind a Machine Gun? This is the question vocalist, songwriter and producer Kesiena “Kesswa” Wanogho asks on her latest collaboration with interdisciplinary artist and musician Zach Saginaw, a.k.a Shigeto. The audio/visual experience exemplifies two artists in their rawest, most honest forms, willing to experiment. Released exclusively on January 1st via The Museum of Contemporary Art Detroit’s (MOCAD) brand new media platform, Daily Rush, the film gives the viewer a look inside the minds of the artists and finds chaos, introspection and growth. 

Mantra is at the center of Kesswa’s work. Highlighted by her 2019 EP, Soften, Kesswa has an inherent ability for distilling the most complicated of dreams, desires and anxieties into only a few simple words. Is My Mind a Machine Gun? starts with her chanting, “Oh my love, tell me now if you want me.” Slowly, she builds an entire world around those words, layering her voice to present a sense of urgency. It’s not immediately clear who “my love” is, which leaves space for the listener to reflect and insert themselves. Maybe it’s the voice of an artistic self left behind, coming now to reclaim its vessel. Maybe it’s our own voice, calling out in uncertainty to a love we’re afraid to lose. 

Whomever Kesswa is speaking to, she responds to her own question with calming reassurance – There’s no doubt about it – all while flashing lights, street view vignettes, and Kesswa’s body language suggest forward motion. The visual echoes Kesswa’s centering message: as long as you are true to yourself, you are on the right path. 

The ephemeral visual is accentuated with soothing waves of harp played by Ahya Simone; its sedative sounds contrast with the disorienting flashes of light, replicating the feelings of dissociation and anxiety that can accompany a dream. Slowly, the harp fades and is replaced by deliberate percussion. This sonic change seems to signal clarity and determination, as Kesswa transitions from repetitive chants to a string of crystal clear affirmations: “I’ve got a creeping intuition/I’m on a mission, clearly/It’s in my heartbeat and my eyes gleam/The stillness inside of me/I’m impulsive but I’m brave/Insisting on myself/I’m determined but I’m earnest/I am kind, I am worthy/Inherently.”

I caught up with Kesswa to find out more about the creative process behind this project. 

AF: Can you tell me a bit about the writing/recording process? What’s the flow of collaboration between you and Shigeto?

KW: The process with Zach and I has been really experimental and grounding. In the beginning of our collaboration, I was thinking a lot about finding my voice, which I think comes out in the composition of the track. A lot of our collaboration has been us just going with the flow of our lives and bringing our influences and emotional needs to the work. Sometimes, we jam. Sometimes we create structures to work within. 

AF: How did this piece in particular come to be? Is there a story behind the music and lyrics? The title?

KW: This piece has been evolving and still kind of is. The version in the video was made specifically for this particular commission. When we were working on the track, Zach felt it would be really awesome to incorporate a narrative, and I’m always writing. The title is an excerpt from Assata Shakur’s “What is left?” poem. This line really stood out to me, because I often feel like thoughts are things we can weaponize against ourselves without close attention. As a person who exists at the center of many intersections of identity, I find myself internalizing and reacting to the projections of the outside world on my body, my creative potential and my values. If my mind is in fact a machine gun, I want to point it towards the projections.

AF: The visual feels just as important to the story as the music does in this piece – did you have a visual in mind when writing the music? Which came first?

KW: The process of creating the visual component of the work was as free flowing as the soundscape. Zach was the director and camera operator, and Vinnie and Robert did assemblage and animation. Zach and I knew that we wanted to give some insight into the world we’ve been building. We wanted to create a visual language, and things kind of unfolded organically.

AF: Do the two of you have more projects like this one up your sleeve/in process? 

KW: It’s a surprise! But things are in process.

AF: I know a lot of your music focuses on mantra – is there a certain mantra you repeat everyday, or one you’re feeling specifically lately? 

KW: Great question! I’ve been sitting with the fact that my body is finite and paying attention to what feels draining and what feels invigorating. Using that awareness to free up some extra energy and let stale things [and] conversations go. Times are too heavy to be stressed about things within my control!

Follow Kesswa on Instagram for ongoing updates.

SXSW: In Annie’s opinion…

Some things change, and some things stay the same:

One remarkable aspect of SXSW is, of course, the unbridled havoc it wreaks on any sense of equilibrium with which you may have arrived in Austin. As much as you feel compelled to do so, trying to plan any sort of agenda in advance feels intractably challenging. Somehow though, when you’re finally in it, you manage to create discreet experiences in the throes of what often feels like a timeless, endless loop of days and nights, stages and voices and bright flashing lights. Unsurprisingly, it’s the point at which you acquiesce to the cacophony of it all that things begin to come together. Trends become noticeable, for example.
One of those trends that I ran into repeatedly, and one I’ve been trying desperately to wrap my brain around and come up with something cohesive to say about, is the mindful, willful integration of electronic music that, for instance, comes out of some form of a computer, with live music that comes out of instruments that have existed for centuries. Most of the more notable contemporary artists whom I watched play at SXSW use this kind of prepared music (beats, samples, their own previously recorded voices) as an instrument onto itself, whether they are composing it all on stage and looping it over live music, or playing along concurrently with electronic music they’ve already created, or creating more improvised moments by extemporaneously feeding the sounds their instruments make through any handful of new and crazy effects.

 To put it more simply: it seems that the line between let’s say, indie rock and experimental electronic music is becoming increasingly more obfuscated by things like rapidly-evolving new technology. However, there’s something else to it; When I watched folks like Washed Out perform–while yes, they utilize cutting edge music recording technology on stage as as a band member in and of itself (like when Ernest Greene stepped up to start singing, he waved his Ipad at the audience in silent acknowledgement of that of which I speak),  I also sensed an abiding evocation of decades-old ideas (heralded by the likes of Roxy Music and the Talking Heads, to name just a few) about the boundaries live music can test and trample altogether.

 Washed Out perform “New Theory”
Attending live music used to mean going to see a group of people (usually men)  showcase their technical proficiency, if not virtuosity, and play for you the songs you love listening to on albums at home (hopefully, if the band is at all decent). These days, you can find many of those people behind the counter at Guitar Center ready to talk your ear off about their favorite Jimmy Page riff.
But things are changing dramatically. And what it all seems to indicate, if not reveal, is that live music has taken an almost defiant step away from what it has formerly endeavored to achieve–namely the presentation of specific musical talents –and toward something entirely new, possessed of a markedly different morphology that usually includes a glowing Apple logo. I haven’t quite been able to put my finger on the pulse of this transformation, but I know that it’s due to the convergence of the following: The rise of Apple and thus the proliferation of increasingly advanced music editing software, the disintegration of the record industry, and a shift in musical zeitgeist toward a movement that has been put on hold since the late 70’s and 80’s.
I’m not saying it isn’t exciting to watch musical virtuosity on display. Now though, watching live music–at least in this new iteration I’m describing (one that seems to be pervading so many different genres, rather than continuously spawning new subcategories of electronica as it did in the past) –is compelling due to a myriad of other performative aspects besides the technical expertise of whoever is playing.
Someone like Shigeto is a perfect example of this. While he’s a great drummer in his own right, it’s not his musicality that exhilarates those who watch him, nor is it necessarily the electronic components of his sets, which are also quite good. What’s amazing about him, is the way in which he jumps back and forth between the electronic and live aspects of his work, juxtaposing these two different (potentially opposing) styles of music. And he toys with the opposition with brilliant fluidity, at times underscoring tensions between the two and at other times resolving it or showing how each can coexist with the other, all the while exhibiting to the audience the process he uses to compose his music. It’s almost like watching a chef prepare a meal on cooking show.
 
Shigeto, live on Drums and Turntables, SXSW 2012
Lindsey has a great video of this performance, methinks.
So much more can be said, but for the sake of brevity I’ll leave you, for now (over the next few days I’ll be posting on my top ten shows from SXSW, the content of which will extrapolate further on all of this), with a video of Matthew Dear performing “Headcage”, which I think encapsulates perfectly the ideas I’m attempting (and perhaps failing) to formulate. This is a band whose sound hinges on the use of new recording and editing technology. However, there is no absence of talented musicians on stage here. This stuff is technically considered electronic music, but I think that kind of categorical imperative truly sells it short. Enjoy please!

Baby’s First SXSW: Wednesday

From the onset of my journey to Austin, my head had been swimming with all the possibilities – bands to see, things to do, drinks to drink. I arrived Tuesday night but didn’t venture downtown into all the action until Wednesday. There was an array of great bands playing a day party at Red 7 but since they didn’t have free beer we only stuck around for a few of La Sera’s songs. Katy Goodman, formerly of Vivian Girls, is as adorable as you’d expect, with her sweet voice and long red tresses. She brings assured pop sensibility to any stage, and the hooks kept coming. But hunger and alcoholism won out and we haunted Jackalope’s for the next hour, guzzling free Coors and eating veggie burgers topped with non-veggie bacon. There were bands playing inside but they were not of the sort that was more interesting that sitting in the sun on the patio.

 A friend of mine really wanted to see Lee Fields & the Expressions, and though I’d admittedly never heard of the group, was happy to tag along. We crossed I-35, stepping into a a completely different world from the chaos of downtown. The East Side of Austin is full of quirky dives and smartly dressed youths. Before heading over to Shangri-La’s, we stopped at a little booth just under the highway to try our hands at a little knife throwing. This booth also enthusiastically sold shots of whatever liquor you preferred, and only shots. Throwing knives are not as sharp as you think they’re going to be, and it’s surprisingly easy to get the hang of once you get your mind off the fact that you are throwing a knife and just let it fly (the shots really help with that). After a few tries I actually sunk one, and found myself wondering if, upon my return to Brooklyn, I could swing a set-up in the tiny cement patch I like to call a backyard. Then maybe the awful neighbors in the building next to mine would grow to fear me, and actually shut up when politely yelled at or stop tossing their trash and human waste into my air shaft.
By the time we entered the dimly lit dive of Shangri-La’s most of my ass-kicking warrior visions had subsided. Los Angeles band White Arrows were playing beneath green fluorescent lights, their psych-tinged pop rippling through the tiny space. Their new material seems to take a cue from calypso and Afro-pop fusion acts a la Vampire Weekend, abandoning the overwrought vocal-heavy dance funk that typified their self-titled 2010 EP. It will be exciting to hear their full-length follow-up to the “Get Gone” single, slated for release sometime this year.
Outside, The Expressions had already begun to warm up with a few songs sans vocalist Lee Fields. After a glowing introduction, he unassumingly walked on stage in baggy jeans and a simple t-shirt, but the voice that issued from this man belonged in the sequined jumpsuits of James Brown. He may not have been one of the buzz acts of SXSW 2012, but Fields has been singing since the 70’s, having cut a few singles in that decade but never releasing a full album until the late 90’s when he hooked up with Leon & Jeff of the Expressions. The recent interest in soul and funk revival acts like Sharon Jones & The Dap-Kings led to the recording and release of 2009’s My World and his newest, Faithful Man, out on Truth & Soul Records. Fields is a versatile recording artist, swinging effortlessly between soul, blues, and funk; his voice is timeless, powerful, and emotive. A consummate performer, he had the audience dancing, chanting, and clapping, but did so effortlessly, making it look easy as only a veteran performer can do. Standout tracks included classics “Ladies” and “Honey Dove” and the appropriately titled “I Still Got It”. Yes you do, Lee, yes you do.
After the enlightening set it was time to hunt down my fellow AudioFemme, who I spotted sitting on a grassy knoll at 5th & Neches. We headed down to Club DeVille for the Ghostly International showcase, catching the end of Chrome Sparks’ set. Chrome Sparks is the pseudonym of Jeremy Malvin, a Philadelphia native studying percussion in Ann Arbor, where his path crossed with Ghostly label founders. He looked every bit the college boy, with his hair close-cropped and his snugly-fitted polo, sheepishly blending vocal snippets and orchestral loops over gleaming synths and quirky beats. By the time he closed with heater “Soul & <3” from his self-produced debut My <3 (available on Bandcamp) he had fully won over the audience.
Mux Mool (aka producer and DJ Brian Lindgren) followed, exuding laid-back cool, confidently bobbing his head to beats he knew would get the audience moving. The crowd obliged with rapt attention to his technical mastery; with each twist of the dials on the equipment before him it was as though he was winding up the audience. Eschewing the glitchy effects of his older material for the more expansive vibe present on recently released Planet High Schoolwas a smooth move indeed, and well received. “Mux” is a shortened form of the term multiplexing, which describes the ability to filter multiple streams of information through one channel, and that term perfectly captures the strengths of Lindgren’s compositions and their translation to a live stage – he takes turns showcasing each element of a track, highlighting chunky beats at once and then turning up synths, uninterested in the dull habits of other beat-makers who simply allow the same loops to build to frenzy and expect reaction based solely on the anticipation of a drop you knew was coming from a mile away. It’s the difference between telling and showing – Mux Mool goes beyond narrator into the realm of true storytelling, where the songs act as paragraphs written in his own pulsating language.
After so much electronic stimulation, it was time for a bit of a change. Choir of Young Believers provided such, the group seven members large including a lovely red-headed cellist. Their brand of moody, swirling dream pop was only slightly cheered up for the showcase, hinting at a bit of folkiness but drawing on the orchestral drama that gives their newest album, Rhine Gold,its unique quality. Tied together by lead singer and group founder Jannis Noya Makrigiannis’s arcing, soulful vocals were elements of big-band brass, soaring strings, mournful saxophones, and glistening keys, each lending opulent vibes to the band’s set.
Shigeto was up next. The stage full of musicians was replaced by Zac Sagninaw, whose moniker comes from his middle name and his rich Japanese heritage. While his recorded material is delicate and introspective, his live shows are kinetic. Not content with the removed rhythms of a drum machine, Shigeto climbs behind an actual drum set and goes wild. It’s hard to give drummers their due; though they’re largely responsible for the listener’s most visceral connection to a song they’re tucked away behind the rest of the band. Shigeto has found a way to remind us of the importance of a thumping drum solo, and his skill with a kit is mind-blowing. People around me were gasping as we watched his sticks fly. I felt as though I was watching a hummingbird, trying to freeze-frame wings that move so fast they blur and become invisible.
It was around this time that I received a text from a friend notifying me that A$AP Rocky was playing at Annex and despite highly anticipated sets from Tycho and Com Truise, I knew I had to see the Mob’s set. The line was surprisingly short but inside it was packed with a pretty eclectic audience. There were a dozen or so people on stage, most of them shirtless but for heavy gold chains. A$AP made his influences clear, sampling The Diplomats and Wu-Tang, and delivered his characteristically woozy verses with youthful energy. His swag was in full effect as he flashed his blinding grill and looked as if he was truly having a blast. The audience was right there with him, raising hands and waving arms, carrying performers as they dove from the stage and into the crowd. It was an amazing end to my first night at SXSW; I emerged from the masses covered in other people’s sweat, helped myself to a late-night cheesesteak from a food cart, and mentally prepared myself to do it all again the next day.