Making a Scen is a new feature focused around discussions about the Iowa music scene. The inaugural edition features an exchange with Oliver Young, who publishes the Iowa Outcast Zine, which is a self-released zine that "document[s] the Iowan punk and metal scenes," covering the "oddball goofy bands, the serious ones, and the angrily militant ones." We connected via email, where Oliver expanded on some of his local favorites and the need for more all ages venues in Des Moines.
villin: What type of work do you do related to music?
Oliver Young: I run the Iowa Outcast Zine, a zine dedicated to documenting Iowan punk and metal. I've meet a lot of cool bands, cool people, and been able to have cool experiences because of that. I've also joined a band called Complete Collapse, released a solo ambient album called Holy Light, and I hope to play live shows soon with both of those projects.
villin: What are your favorite venues/places to see live music?
Oliver Young:Lefty's, mainly because I'm not 21. The Dark Slide, a skate shop in Merle Hay Mall, is also starting to do purely all ages shows so I'm really excited about that!
villin: Who are some of your favorite local artists?
villin: What's the last local concert/show you went to?
Oliver Young: I went to a Vein.fm/City Morgue show on the 14th; shit was awesome even though Vein only played for like 20 minutes. I'm not too into City Morgue, but I liked their set and the wall of death they set up.
villin: Are there any local shows that stand out as favorites you’ve been to?
Oliver Young: My first show was a Modern Life is War show at the Village Theatre. It was a lot of firsts for me: first show, first stage dive, first time moshing. I remember my mom taking me and standing in the pit trying to record, then quickly exiting the pit.
Oliver Young: Another one would be a Animals on LSD/Ill Omen show at the Gas Lamp that turned into a all ages show after Frontal Assault and a out of state band had to drop. That show was fuckin' amazing. Animals On LSD ripped and it was their best performance I had seen. There was an improvised song thrown in their set that was great. It was also my first time seeing Ill Omen and they played all my favorite songs. Both of them gave me signed copies of their set lists which I'm very grateful for.
villin: What do you think about the Gas Lamp closing down and how do you think it'll affect the scene there?
Oliver Young: As far as the Gas Lamp closing, I think it's very shit. It's been, to my knowledge, a great venue for bands to play at and only shows the need for DIY venues in the Des Moines area. Don't take this as a sign of the end, take it as a sign to begin doing shit for the scene. Make your own venues!
villin: What’s missing from the scene there?
Oliver Young: All ages venues, at least in Des Moines. So many great shows go on here, but I can't go to basically any of them because they're 21 and up shows.
villin: What changes could help improve the local music scene there?
Oliver Young: A better sense of community, more all ages shows, more people, and more merch buying! Seriously, go buy bands' merch. It's not cheap to get a guitar and amp to play and can easily go into thousands of dollars, drum sets are not cheap at all, and making merch costs money. So please, go buy merch! Go out to shows! Create all ages DIY venues!
"CLEAN SLATE" is the opening track from BACK BURNER, the debut solo release from singer and multi-instrumentalist Halen. While the EP is ripe with songs about relationship struggles, its sum presents as a reclamation of power in the face of repetitive emotional neglect. Connecting over Instagram, Halen added, "People pleasers and hopeless romantics are victim to the back burner all the time, I fear." For anyone who's been there, that line surely feels like an all too familiar feeling. The following discussing touches on other aspects of the song, including its recording and instrumentation, as well as the contrast offered between its lyrics and the visuals Halen released in advance of BACK BURNER.
villin: What was the sound you had in mind when writing “CLEAN SLATE”?
Halen: I’ve always been inspired by Alanis Morissette. When we were producing BACK BURNER I was listening to a lot of Jagged Little Pill; I’ve always loved her use of harmonica and that was one element specifically that inspired me for this song. For the album as a whole, I was looking for a '90s alt-rock feel.
villin: What about the song made it the right fit to open BACK BURNER?
Halen: I thought the quiet instrumentation at the start paired with the big dynamics of the song would make it an interesting opener. Plus, I think the hook is pretty good, if I do say so myself!
villin: How do you think your work with the June Bugs or Daizey helped you end up with a sound like this?
Halen: I think every band I’ve ever been in has influenced me in some way, whether that is aurally, or simply in terms of gaining experience. There were several songs on the album that were originally written for Daizey! My sound overall is a little softer though, and I think that does the music justice.
villin: Did you perform the instruments yourself on the track?
Halen: I performed almost every instrument in some capacity. Cam Schneider was on drums and John Fisher helped with some electric guitar.
villin: How long have you been playing the harmonica?
Halen: I don’t really play the harmonica super well to be honest, I just blow into it and hope it sounds good. No technique there.
villin: Did you work with anyone to help produce and record the track?
Halen:Phil Young is my superhero! He helped me record, mix, and produce the entire album.
Halen: Nearly all my lyrics are based totally off personal experience. They span multiple relationships and seasons in my life, which I think is sad but beautiful: heartbreak always feels the same. My hope is that my (many) heartbreaks will resonate with others.
villin: One of the lines I identify with speaks to over-extending yourself to try to reduce someone else’s discomfort. Does it help you process the emotions that come with something like that by expelling them through lyrics?
Halen: Songwriting is incredibly healing for me. In my times of deepest hurt, picking up my guitar or putting pen to paper is often the only thing that helps. I also find that letting other people hear about my insecurities allows me to release their power.
villin: It’s interesting to listen to BACK BURNER and recognize the contrast that exist between the boldly confident imagery which you’ve released surrounding your music on social media, and the vulnerability and self-doubt which comes through in songs like “CLEAN SLATE.” Is it a conscious decision to present that dichotomy, or is it a natural byproduct of those two sides being part of your personality?
Halen: I love this question! It’s definitely intentional. I think I’ve often been outwardly viewed as a confident, independent woman, and I have rarely felt that inwardly. Part of releasing this music was a reclamation of all the parts of me I had previously been willing to sacrifice, and some of those reclamations were the taking back of my image, sexuality, and self confidence.
villin: What does it mean to be a “back burner girl”?
Halen: A “back burner girl” is the girl literally put on the back burner of a man’s life. I’ve been made to wait for men who aren’t sure, who can’t commit, but who don’t want to lose me. No one deserves to feel like an option, or like they’re disposable. Don’t allow others to put you on their back burner.
Jim Swim is a multifaceted artist living in Iowa City. Born in Davenport, the sound behind the rapper/singer/producer's work isn't easily definable, nor is it entirely linear as he moves from project to project. Speaking of his 2018 In It With You EP, for example, Little Village's Luke Benson called out the project's "deceptively well-crafted lyrics," "rich sonic soundscape[s]," and "laidback tone." In another review on the site for 2021's New Tattoo EP, Dr. Dawson commented on the release's "psychedelic rap sounds that can be jammed in the car or on the dancefloor." Among other topics, the following email exchange focuses on his lyrics, how collaboration has shaped his sound, and a pair of upcoming collaborative works with Alyx Rush and Avery Moss. Jim Swim has several upcoming dates (complete listing below) including a solo performance Saturday, April 22 at Ecofest in Cedar Rapids, as well as a full band performance at Gabe's in Iowa City, along with Halfloves and Bella Moss.
villin: There's a thread of collaboration which runs through your body of work, whether that be past efforts with Blookah, ADE, or the Soultru EP you recently produced and appeared on. What is it about working with other artists that you find so attractive?
Jim Swim: Collaboration is everything in music. Music is such an efficient means of connection, and creating with another person can take you to an extremely genuine and open place very quickly. I love that. Many of my closest friendships are the direct result of musical collaborations.
Making a song with someone is a conversation and a quest, and I love aiming toward some shared inspiration or principle when I collaborate. It could be a song that we both love that we are using as a reference, or just a general idea like, "Wavy with a lot of bounce and wonky hats," that we use to guide the exploration. I always learn a lot from the people I work with, and we wind up with music that neither of us could have made on our own. It's a product of our combined nervous systems.
villin: How has collaboration helped you grow as an artist?
Jim Swim: I think most of my growth I've experienced as an artist is the result of collaboration, directly or indirectly. I learned Ableton watching Nick (Blookah) produce, and have enjoyed trading tricks and tactics with him over all the years since he first showed me how to arm a track. I've gained the courage to sing and develop my melodic ideas working with incredible vocalists like Mary Bozaan, ADE, Avery Moss, and Alyx Rush. I learned how to write guitar melodies that were catchy but also ache-y from being in a band with my friend Alex Fischels. I've grown as an arranger and producer building songs for Terrance (Soultru). I get inspiration and affirmation talking about the poetic power of great rap with Ahzia, and listening to the conversational wisdom of his verses while we record his songs. I'm incredibly lucky to have crossed paths with so many artists in this relatively small town who I love and admire.
villin: How did you link up with Alyx Rush and Avery Moss, and are some of your personal takeaways from working with each of them on the respective releases you've got lined up?
Jim Swim: I heard that Alyx was dating Blake Shaw, I think, and looked him up on Instagram. I listened to a video where he was singing and was blown away by his tone and emotive delivery. I asked him to hop on a show we were doing at Gabe's, and that's where we met. I had some lofi R&B type beats I'd made that I couldn't do justice to as a vocalist, and asked him to come over. We found that we had similar tastes both as fans and as artists, and it was really easy to write lyrics and parts together. He also is just an incredibly sweet and funny person who is fun to spend time with. Alyx is always willing to experiment, but also has a deep sense of who he is as an artist and how he wants to sound. He is a perfectionist, but also willing to take risks, and I find that combination to be really motivating and inspiring as a collaborator. In our new EP, we wanted to make songs that still had some of the hazy, moody textures from Fruit to the Knife, but with a lot more bounce. The four songs we've made (plus one remix of "Gimme Life") have a lot of wave and bounce to them, and I think they'll be great for a summer release. I've grown a lot as a vocal producer working with Alyx, mainly because creating textures with his voice is ridiculously fun. I hope to keep working with him as long as we both live here.
I met Avery in a much less likely and more funny way. I dated Avery's current partner, Mary Bozaan (also an incredibly talented artist), for four years before they got together. Mary and her sister Sarah both do this super rare thing where they can just stay close with exes and introduce the new people they are dating to them and everyone can be friends. So I met Avery through her. Avery has one of the most mighty brains I've ever been around. They have an incredible knowledge and passion for music of all genres, and what makes them really special to me is that they have a ton of heart to go with their intellect. They feel music with their whole being and love bopping around on a dance floor as much as intellectualizing about the texture and timing of Manny Fresh's drums or the complications of Lou Reed's character. They are an incredible sound designer, keys player, arranger, singer and producer, and the overlap in our tastes is really interesting. Our first EP probably existed a little more in Avery's sonic world than mine, but our next one swings more toward mine. We both love sounds that are pretty, bass sounds that are groovy and nasty, and drums that bounce and slap. I love working with them and am super bummed they are moving to Chicago this summer. I've learned an immense amount about mixing, sound design, and melody writing in their good company.
villin: In an interview with Iowa Public Radio, ADE shared his admiration for your poeticism. Are there any lyrics from your upcoming projects that you're particularly fond of?
Jim Swim: ADE is a good writer, too! We always have a blast writing raps together, and laugh way too much while we do it. That man is a fiend for the innuendo. There are a lot of lyrics on upcoming projects that I feel connected to, mostly because I'm still in the same space as I was when I wrote them. The second half of the second verse in Avery and I's song "Stretching" is a favorite…
It's water, man The guru said let it move through ya Or do it your way if it suits ya The sound of the song is a sutra Pulling me through like a doula's hand The ritual magic is too advanced The ghosts in the room came to a dance Been pulling my roots up from ruined lands It's true that my dreams led to foolish plans Been caring way less who I'm cooler than Tuning in what was it you were saying? Been losing the message with too much to reckon with Let's make it new again
It's all backwards Look at all these nasty tax-cheat masters Machine gun oil rig smokestack laughter Extract every last bit then abscond after If the data leaks tip a cap to the hackers Have to see the limbs on the strings of the actors The mad-eyed captain said we must go faster He just built a bunker near the megachurch pastor's They'll be living lavish in the case of disaster
villin: When thinking of yourself as a musician, do you think of yourself as more of a vocalist, lyricist, a producer, or is it all one broader outlet for you?
Jim Swim: I was really considering making a producer alias for the music I make with Alyx and others when I'm not a vocalist because I was worried the difference between the music I make with him and my solo stuff would confuse people if they were just clicking through my Spotify or whatever, but I ultimately decided I'd just keep it one name. It really all comes from the same place and I think it all has the same musical DNA. I don't think the roles are separate, really. I might be the main vocalist on Avery and I's projects, but they help me think of vocal melodies and I help them think of synth lines. Vice versa when I work with Alyx. I'm just trying to be an artist overall and learning other skills has opened up more doors for collaboration and expression. I do still feel like a beginner as a producer/mixing engineer, though, and am most comfortable being a lyricist and vocalist.
Plus I just really don't want to have to manage another social media account. I would not be on socials at all if it weren't for music.
villin: About two years ago you appeared on the Englert Theatre's Best Show Ever podcast, speaking in large part about an essay you wrote on the nature of artistic success. In that piece of writing you speak of a "false binary" that exists, where "successful artists live off of their art; failed artists get day jobs and become hobbyists." It's interesting because for many creatives, I feel like there's a lot of value placed on this holy mountain of doing art as a profession, as if that in itself is a worthwhile goal. I'm wondering how your relationship with your own idea of "success" as an artist has changed since you wrote that article.
Jim Swim: It honestly depends on the day and hour you ask me. I still get hung up and feel like I'm a failure sometimes, or compare myself to other artists and feel uncool. I've spent a ton of time doing this one thing, and I'm nowhere near where I had hoped I might get to when I started. The myth of "making it" is really insidious in the way it colonizes artists' brains, and can add a toxic undertone to an otherwise pure pursuit. That said, I've made all kinds of songs that I'm proud of and have experienced so many moments of genuine joy in the process with people I love. I enjoy making songs now more than ever. When I get to sit in this green chair that I'm in right now, in sweatpants, in my little room, I feel free and full, and sometimes, powerful. I was talking to Ahzia a while back about songwriting as a path of self-discovery, and that's what it is for me. I learn more about what I think and feel through making songs. It can be incredibly satisfying, just saying what you mean, and finding a sound that suits the feeling. It's cliche, but it really is incredibly therapeutic. I believe that any practice that makes us feel more curious, connected and human is worthwhile in a society that is working harder than ever to alienate us from ourselves and one another, and maintaining it is a success.
villin: How does performance and sharing your music with others in a live setting play into your concept of success, or your relationship with a feeling of creative achievement?
Jim Swim: The first musical activity that really lit me up was freestyling and jamming with friends. I think performing with other people in front of other people is what music is all about. The energy generated is priceless. I've turned into more of a studio rat over the past few years, but every time I play a show I remember what it's all about. I've let myself get down at times about what shows I do or don't get, or just feeling too old for it in a very young town, and I think that's driven me in part to stay in the studio working on the craft, but whenever I do go out and do a set, I am lifted for like three days after. Over the next couple months, I'm going to get to perform some of my songs with an incredible band (Blake Shaw, Avery Moss, Anthony Worden, and Justin LeDuc), and I am really excited about that (April 29 with Halfloves and Bella Moss at Gabe's, and then June 3 at the James Theater with Ahzia and Alyx Rush). I think sharing the songs we make is essential to the creative process, whether that's in an arena with 50,000 people, or even a single friend. Sharing/releasing/performing completes the process, for me, and helps me start it over again feeling renewed. Honestly, I played a few songs for Avery a couple weeks ago and the feedback they gave me made me feel like I "made it," because I knew they understood and felt what I was trying to express. It was a high, and it was just us two.
Husoul is a Des Moines-based drum and bass musician. In this edition of the villin podcast he discusses how he has transitioned from a rapper/producer to a gamer to where he's currently at, music's influence on and relationship to mental health, and the ability to find identity and individuality within sound. Husoul recently released his full-length album, Project Dilemma, in March of 2023, following that up with a single titled "Dystopia."
villin: The track introducing this episode of the villin podcast is "This is the end" by Husoul. It's a high energy earworm that I've fallen in love with, but just one of the nearly 30 songs that the Des Moines-based musician has released since debuting with "Reach" last July. That debut was not really his debut, however, and as we've connected there has been a theme that has arisen surrounding things not appearing as they first might seem. I don't mean that in a negative way or in a deceptive way, but that there are multiple layers to the Husoul onion. In one of our DM exchanges leading up to this conversation, for example, he posed a question asking if I knew how to pronounce his name. I mean, at that point I'd probably listened to his music for a few hours, but by simple fact that he was asking me suggested I was probably off base. I thought it was something like "hew-soul," but once he let me know I started hearing the tags come up in his earlier works. It was right there: "hustle," sort of hiding in plain sight, but still vaguely out of reach to those on the outside looking in.
On an episode of the Full Drop Podcast released in March of 2020, Husoul explained that he began making music around the age of 17 and that the name had been gifted to him from a friend, but at that time he was quite a different Husoul. He was a rapper and producer. He'd released music and accompanying videos. Then, one day that just ended. That version of Husoul stopped working for the person behind the persona. Until sometime last year when there was a decision to revive the project as something entirely new.
Husoul: I wouldn’t say I was a whole different person–I'm still the same person I am now–but I wasn't proud of the work that I was doing and putting out, because I feel like… I don't know if you’ve seen the old videos but, you know, I made a music video for a song called “Chopsticks” and a video for “Shake It,” and those videos didn't really–I wouldn’t say–represent me well. Because it created an image of me that people might see me as, like, I don't know, a not so good guy, I would say, if I worded that right. But I just didn't like how it reflected me as a person; I can say that. And the rap side of it, you know, I used to make a lot of rap beats and rap on them for fun. I would say I got tired and bored of that genre because everything felt too repetitive. I could say that. Everything felt like I was in a loop and the majority of the time I was stuck in that loop. I didn't know what to make I didn't know how to properly express myself because I feel like with rap music it's kind of hard to be more vulnerable about it because I'm so used to the aggressive rap side and drill rap side and aggressive rap side, I didn’t know how to properly be sentimental and vulnerable towards it… Like, making sad music and stuff like that because I do have a–I would say–depression disorder and I was stuck in this loop where I did not want to make rap music and I stopped for, maybe, a solid three years years until I found a different genre that I like, that I could easily express on. And that's when I started making drum and bass music. That’s pretty much it. It felt easier expressing my feelings toward drum and bass beats, if that makes sense.
villin: I can empathize with that decision to essentially try to wipe the slate clean, thinking back to the countless times I've tried to remove myself from the person I once tried to position myself as, deleting social media profiles, websites, or walking away entirely from people I knew and places I lived. As the saying goes, however: no matter where you go, that's where you are. And in returning to music with a new genre in mind, I get the sense that Husoul is taking lessons learned from that first go-around and using them to lean into something more personal, or attuned with who he really is.
Husoul: Yeah, it felt like everything just felt like an online persona. Yeah, that's how I got my first album that I released [with] my drum and bass music. I had an album called Online Persona and that's pretty much what it is about. Because those three years that I took a break on, I felt like I wasn't proud of myself for what I made when I made rap music and I felt that everything just felt like a persona. And I feel like that’s what took inspiration in me making my first album called Online Persona. It's all just test music, I guess. That was when I was still experimenting on drum and bass music. I didn't have a go-to sound in Online Persona. Everything was just like, “Hmm, what if I did this and what if I did that” and just clamp it all together. I would say Online Persona, the album is a beginner’s work. I am still proud of it because, you know, I still had the balls to move on to a different genre.
villin: Which, again, isn't to imply an abandonment of the old Husoul, just a change.
Husoul: I don’t regret it at all. I don’t regret everything that I did. I had my time. I had a lot of good memories over there. I even performed live twice and it was always a good time. I had a decent audience and nothing could ever make me regret what I did like three/four years ago. It's just that I feel like I just needed to move on as a person. I just got more chill, I can say that. And I just wanted to grow as a person and move on to different things.
villin: The rapper/producer persona and today's iteration come before an after a third version of Husoul that leaned into gaming-related content. Remnants from that time exist on his Twitch channel, and as we talked I got a sense there was something more fluid at work within the timeline than a hard stop progression from musician to gamer and back to musician.
Husoul: Yeah, when I took a break from music for those three years I did game heavily. I did, and I was trying to become a competitive Warzone gamer, you could say. ‘Cause I'm the type of person that’s like, if I really like something I'm going to put it one-hundred percent of my focus into it and Warzone was definitely up there. I was competing, I can say that, and I don’t regret that either. I still have good memories in that game. I do still play it a lot but it's not really primarily my focus on like putting content out anywhere, if that makes sense. Like right now, primarily my focus is making more music because that's what I do want to be known as now, instead of just a gamer.
villin: My brain working the way it does, I was curious if there was more to the name "Husoul," so I went googling and found that it (very loosely) translates to the word "get" in Arabic. This was news to Husoul when we talked, but there's an element of that connection I really like. Like: get it; or get after it; get what you want; or get going. And this is part of the creative liberty I'm taking when approaching his journey from the outside looking in, because I see a connection there. One thing wasn't working, so that ended while he tried something else. When that next phase exceeded its own shelf life, he moved on. And when inspiration came up again, he dove in and tried to get after something new.
Husoul: I would say I got into drum and bass music because of TikTok. Because you know the “For You” pages, like everything pops into your feed for you. For some reason I was getting a lot of drum and bass music into my feed. I was like, “Oh my God, I love this genre. Who am I listening to right now? This is what I want to make! I should get back into music.” And I did. I mean, it’s not really that deep, but I think for a long time when I was taking a break from music I didn’t have motivation or inspiration to keep doing music. Because I knew I didn’t want to keep doing rap music. But drum and bass, man, it just resonates with me perfectly. I don’t know what it is.
villin: What it is about the music, or the genre, that is so appealing is something that he and I both struggled to articulate to each other. Throughout our discussion I think Husoul did well to explain the sound, though each time we shifted to that territory it ended up in a conclusion of it just feeling right.
Husoul: The drum and bass genre is more melodic focused and BPM focused, so usually… BPM is, like, the speed of the song, right? I love–I don't know why my type of energy is chill melodies but fast drums. [I’ve] always loved that, I don't know why, but it's my thing. And there’s something about it. It clings to my brain when I hear fast drums, at least maybe 170 BPM. I don't know why but it's kind of hard to explain, to be honest. I feel like it reflects me well making a drum and bass beat.
villin: For me there's so much that goes into drum and bass, and so much more that goes into my personal relationship with the genre. One of the things I struggled with in our conversation was articulating the very same thing as Husoul. Why does this particular sound affect me the way it does? I've been listening to this kind of music for almost 30 years and it lives in a certain space within me, occupying a part of my own being in some shapeless nameless way; a vague break-beat, just constantly humming behind one of the many doors within my mind. And I like that it's there, and I appreciate when and where it comes up. It's strange because, as we were talking, I commented that this is the first time I've ever talked with someone about drum and bass despite being a fan for so long. Thinking back after the fact, I think that's true. My friends growing up didn't listen to what was at the time called electronica, and they most certainly didn't have an interest in the artists I was getting into. Through the first artists I'd heard who made it in the mid-to-late '90s (who helped inspire my journey, like Goldie or Aphex Twin or Squarepusher, to name a select few), the sound felt so modern, yet so out of time and space. Completely disconnected, yet here. It was current yet from the future. And Husoul agreed.
Husoul: Because drum and bass, the kits that I use are all just old drum loops from the ‘80s and ‘90s and early 2000s. But they still sound futuristic to this day and I just can't explain why. It just does. It fits everything so perfectly. I think it just depends on the mood that you’re trying to represent in the song, or what melody you're using and how you articulate the sounds in the songs and how you do that can make the song very futuristic.
villin: Adding to Husoul's presentation of the genre is a visual element that amplifies that idea, incorporating Japanese influences, cyberpunk, and the neon echoes of a vague nameless city at night.
Husoul: It’s one of my favorite genres of all-time, by the way. Something about cyberpunk. It calms me down, I can say that. Whenever I do want to get inspiration from it I do look at cyberpunk images or the Cyberpunk anime that came out a year ago. Or, like, early 2000s PS2 cyberpunk images. Stuff like that, just anything with an old nostalgic aesthetic.
villin: When we started out there was a comment speaking to depression and I can't help but find value in how the genre has connected with Husoul, and how it's influenced him there, as well.
Husoul: I’m not the type of person who just sits down and grieves all day. But I do get a lot of procrastination days. It’s hard to get creative nowadays for me. It’s always been a thing. I just grew up being a procrastinator and I’m trying to break that habit. And it’s been working so far. I think ever since I found this new genre, drum and bass, last year, everything felt more fast paced. I definitely procrastinated a lot less. And I would say I’m definitely proud of that. Mental health-wise it helped me in my own little world.
villin: This most recent iteration of Husoul released his first full-length album, Online Persona, in September and followed with Project Dilemma last month. I can't help but admire the volume of output, but also the quality of it. Being a fan of a genre for nearly as long as you've been a creator within that space is a really unique thing, and when we talked about influence the picture became a little more clear of how this immersive experience has helped him grow as both a creator and a fan.
Husoul: And a lot of the people I listen to are very underground. They’re like, y’know, not popular at all. But I do look up to a lot of those producers and I gain inspiration from them. And it’s just like “Oh, this person did that, or I wonder how I could do it in my way, or what kind of sounds I can make in my way?” Because, granted, I am still learning the production. I’m improving every day [with] how to make this kind of music. And I feel like my newest album, Project Dilemma, is… it's a big improvement compared to my album from last year, Online Persona. It’s just me improving as a person and a producer and just trying to articulate how I want certain things to sound, in my own way.
I would say everything is a lot more… production-wise everything sounds more mastered. Everything sounds more faster. Because strictly my primary focus I was trying to do on this project was: faster BPM and more melodies and more drums and more variety into the drums. Because I used to have a problem where I would be too repetitive in my drums and it always sticks in the back of my mind: I gotta switch it up or I gotta, you know, pan this side to the left side of the ear and pan this side to the right side of the ear. And I feel like I did that well in the album.
villin: This may be an instance of me trying to shoehorn an unrelated topic into the narrative, but I did want to talk with Husoul about cultural representation in music and art, asking whether or not that had much bearing on him. And when he answered, he spoke of a strong Asian community within Iowa, while digging into some of the downsides he's experienced personally.
Husoul: I do think about it a lot. I do think about it. I would say I thought about it a lot more when I was into the rap scene more because there wasn’t a lot of popular Asian rappers that were out at the time. I would say the only Asian rapper I was familiar with at the time was Dumbfoundead or Killy–I don’t know if you’ve ever heard of Killy, but he was big at the time but not anymore. It definitely has always been in the back of my mind–Asian artists. There’s not really a lot out here. There’s not really a lot of mainstream stuff out here for Asian people, unless it’s like Jackie Chan or Jet Li, you know, kung fu shit. But artistic-wise, it’s rarely ever a thing. I would say the media, the mainstream media is more primarily focused on black and white. It’s always been the main thing, the main topic, for a long time, just black and white. And I don’t blame them for that because it’s definitely a safer route to stick with that instead of experimenting on diversity.
villin: Out of that topic comes a question of whether there's a goal or focus for Husoul's music, and my favorite moment of our conversation came as we drifted back into a blending of video games and sound. To me, drum and bass is video game music for the mind. There is a visual element to the sound whether or not there is an actual visual accompaniment to the sound. And as Husoul explained, as he progresses with the music, he can see a future where his past catches up with his present and works in tandem with his current focus to create something even more satisfying.
Husoul: I think one of my biggest dreams is making a soundtrack for a video game because I grew up with video games. I love video games. And now that I think about it, I never fully comprehended in my head… But, yeah, I think I always just wanted to make an OST or just a full on soundtrack for a video game. And now you’ve just got me thinking. I never thought about it. Wow, there you go. Video game producer that makes music. Boom. [...]
I wouldn’t say a huge success, I would say if it makes into… okay, the thing about me is that whenever I make these drum and bass beats I always wanted them to make it into a racing game or something. I can just like envision them in a Need for Speed game or a Midnight Club game or just a racing game. I would love for that to happen. That’s like my biggest dream. I don’t know why. It’s nothing like becoming famous, or fame, I just want to make it to the game. I want to hear my music while I’m racing my car. That would be a dream come true.
villin: A conscious decision or not, Husoul took action to essentially wipe the slate clean, allowing all of his previous experiences with music–and what he doesn't want his music to be–to fully inform the sort of creator he's attempting to shift into. Regardless of whether that past work is still readily available for others to consume, it's helping drive the progression. In this case, maybe driving his work away from something inasmuch as toward another. In that same Full Drop Podcast, Husoul was asked where he might see himself in another ten years and he guessed he might shift more into more of a producer role, or maybe even have something more to do with film or video. Now, again, looking ahead, we both came together on the impossibility of being able to project into the future about what will happen, or even settle on what might be a reasonable goal for another five or ten years down the road. Dreams of video game soundtrack production aside, it came down to something simple and grounded in the here and now. As it stands, Husoul just landed on a hope to find others who resonate with his music, and use it as a springboard to explore the drum and bass sound further for themselves .
Husoul: Just give it a chance. It’s a genre that isn’t out there. It’s an underground genre and I just ask that people give it a chance.
