Chill Mac has had a prolific output over the past ten months, following up last summer's AKA Chill Mac EP with his new full-length release titled None Chiller. Dropping in April, the album's 12 tracks cover a wide swath of hip-hop, while regularly leaning in on a slowed, pitched-down style that'd fit well within the chopped and screwed scene of yesteryear. Helping him along the way with the album was a slew of collaborators, both on the production side, as well as on the mic. And behind the board for None Chiller was Anthony "AMMixes" Maldonado, who recorded, mixed, and mastered the release. Catching up by email, Chill Mac spoke to his relationship with AMMixes and how it's helped him grow as an artist, while also discussing the release's tone, its many collaborations, and broader concepts around approaching the album as a product of healing.
villin: There were several collaborators you worked with over the course of None Chiller. Who pitched in with guitar on the album opener, "Heart & Soul," and what sound were you going for with that track?
Chill Mac:Taylor King came through and laid guitar down for "Heart & Soul." I didn’t have a direction in mind when I made the beat but after I started writing to it and saw where it took me, I just felt like guitar was needed. Taylor probably laid down six good takes for that song and it was tough to decide which one to use, but I feel we (AMMixes and myself) chose the best take that flowed with the vibe of the track.
villin: To me, the track's lyrics speak to ideas surrounding the larger what if's many of us face in life; provoking contemplation surrounding how life could have gone wrong, but also how it's ended up working out. What did you have in mind with your lyrics on the song and what made it the right track to open None Chiller?
Chill Mac: That’s pretty much all it is lyrically, kind of a life update/journal entry of sorts. I felt that was a nice lil warm up into the album when looking at [the] track listing . When I started to write “Heart & Soul” I didn’t know that it was going to be the opening track or even that it was going to be on the project at all, to be honest. I went into this project just wanting to make something that was authentically me, but more selfishly I just needed to get some things off my chest. Music is therapy for me and that can get really personal at times. I didn’t know if I wanted to put that song out in the beginning because it was very raw for me to express myself so openly and expose my insecurities, in a way. I am glad I did though. I feel much lighter and like I have more room to grow, both as a person and as an artist. And I really like that hook, too. That’s a fun one.
villin: Speaking of what could have been, I found it fascinating to learn about the road work you did—circa 2009-2013—which in some ways helped inspire your own creative direction (hat-tip to Jordan Mayland for that). Are you able to speak to which acts you toured with? , and looking back on those years, how do you think they continue to inform the work you're doing today?
Chill Mac: Yeah, in 2009 I had freshly dropped out of college and was really struggling with what I should be doing with my life, as most 19 year olds go through. A friend of mine had just joined a hardcore band from Columbia, Missouri called Nothing to Nothing, playing guitar. They were getting ready for a two month-long tour and needed a merch guy to sell their t-shirts and records, and I didn’t even hesitate at the opportunity.
After a year or so touring with them around the US, they decided to call it quits and I began doing merch for another hardcore band from Milwaukee named Expire. I traveled with them until 2013. I was able to literally see the world selling t-shirts and records. We toured with bands I never thought I would be in the same room as. We shared the road with Power Trip, Rotting Out, Backtrack, Soul Search, Xibalba, Comeback Kid, Figure Four, Madball, Senses Fail, Twitching Tongues, Take Offense, and so many others! I met some truly beautiful souls on the road and wouldn’t be doing hip-hop, instead of being a merch guy, if it wasn’t for some of those people. Rest in power Riley Gale and Tim Butcher.
Touring definitely opened my world up to help me bust out of my comfort zone. I grew into myself out on the road and found who I am and what my purpose is. I found my moral compass out there and can stand on everything without regrets. But all good things come to an end and I don’t believe in coincidence. It was good I got out when I did because I was forced to focus on myself, which is something that hasn’t always been natural to me. Some of my fondest memories to date are traveling around the world, waking up to new horizons, all while being surrounded by so many creative individuals. Imma take all that game I acquired being a merch guy/roadie and apply it to myself and my own hustle, because that’s the dragon I’m chasing in this lifetime. Music is definitely my drug of choice. Fosho.
villin: Working merch for part of that time, it's no wonder we saw a cassette of AKA Chill Mac released to accompany the EP's digital drop. What led you to going the tape route and what did it mean to you to have a tactile representation of your work in your hands like that?
Chill Mac: I personally love cassette tapes. I have a small collection of my own and always wanted to put my work on both cassette and vinyl. Coming from the hardcore/punk/metal scene, and also being so into hip-hop, I am a sucker for the physical copies that I can open up, and look at artwork, and/or read the lyrics as I listen along. I wanted to provide that and maybe inspire someone else. I get excited when I pick up a new vinyl or tape; it's kinda like chasing a high to be honest. Cassettes are also considerably cheaper to make than vinyl, so it was an easy decision for me! Shout out Noah at Future Sight Records for the tapes, too!
villin: Did you produce all of None Chiller, or mix it up with someone else making the beats?
Chill Mac: Definitely had to mix it up a bit! Everything was recorded and mixed by AMMixes. As far as production, it’s [mostly] myself and I either collaborated or asked specific producers from Des Moines, Iowa to be a part of the production. I wanted to show that you don’t have to go far to make something shake. Des Moines is full of so many talented artists. I encourage the collaborations. How else we supposed to grow the city?
I produced "Heart & Soul," "I’m Chill," "Cousin of Death," "Ciggy Muzik," "HOWiFEEL," and co-produced "Contact High."
Pondarosa Mo (or MOBEATZ) cooked up on "Contact High" and he also made "HOWiMOVE" by himself. He is a beast on his own. You’ll see this man set up shop and make a beat anywhere! Mothking64 produced both "Standard" and "She/Her," and big shout out to 64 for workin' with me on these instrumentals 'cause it was a whole process for real, and I been wanting to hop on his work for a while now. Who is Lupa produced "Well…" and really showed out on that one. He gave me the beat and said “Rap about patience 'cause I really need some.” That’s another raw one for me.
Hurst Hitz produced "Hollows." This was my first time working with him and it was smooth; definitely look forward to some more collaborations in the future. Mike be doin' big things with his music, IYKYK. "Hollows" is probably the oldest song on the project and had another instrumental to it at one point that just wasn’t resonating with me so I’m glad the song found its home with a Hurst Hitz original. Shout out my MF Juliano Dock, too, for blessing me with some more fuego.
Lastly, Static Soul came through with a sleeper for “Please Tell Me.” He be goin' crazy on the SP and I was instantly inspired when I heard the sample come in. I told him to rearrange it a bit and start writing cause I already had a hook done. That is one cold ass white boy!
And please go tap in with all the artists I worked with. If you’re an artist reading this, go get some quality work done! Shout out all my other features I didn’t mention: Bagz Marley and Aree Love both snapped. I was really happy with all my features and collaborations on this project.
villin: What was the goal you had when thinking about the tone of the album as a whole? A song like "Cousin of Death" strikes me as an outlier musically.
Chill Mac: I didn’t have a set goal for the tonality of the album, really, other than I wanted to just create and make the puzzle pieces fit to a point where I felt it transitioned well. I feel like it started to take on a theme lyrically in a way, I guess, or at least it told a story. I think that just speaks to where I was at in life while creating this project. I was doing a lot of healing and shadow work while creating. I took it pretty serious and did lots of fasting and cleanses of different sorts. I was going through a lot personally. I feel like music is so powerful. I wanted to be intentional with this release and not just make some mundane copy paste “rapper” shit. I wanted it to hit.
"Cousin of Death" is definitely a lil bit different than the rest but I was just having fun making that beat, to be honest. I didn’t really want to sound like anything other than me, so at times it's laid back, chill, and contemplative, but it's also gotta pick up the pace and kinda poke its chest out a bit as far as the sound and content goes. Really just wanted to show some more of my range with the beats and I ended up digging what I wrote for that one more than I thought.
(Sidenote: I say P.B. a few times throughout the project and just for any confusion that stands for Plant Based, lol. I’m just out here tryna rep a healthy lifestyle at the end of the day.)
villin: A few songs have a not-quite chopped & screwed sound, but at times a slowed and pitched down sound. What led you to incorporate that as a creative choice along the way, including the likes of "HOWiFEEL"?
Chill Mac: I am so glad you asked this question and it kinda makes me double back on my last answer. If you know me personally you know that I’m a lil obsessed with the whole ChopNScrew & slowed with reverb sound. Sounds like you’re floating through space. I listen to the majority of my hip-hop and R&B chopped or slowed down and have to admit I rarely play even my vinyls at their intended speed. AMMixes and I sat down and slowed down my last project, AKA Chill Mac, and I released it on a limited lathe cut press. That will be up to streaming platforms soon. But I put this project together with the intentions of being able to chop it up and slow it down. So you can definitely look forward to that in the near future, as well. "HOWiFEEL" is a lil teaser of that. I also put out a single before None Chiller titled “HMU” that was the same kinda chop/slowed feel. That was really fun to do and I look forward to more work like that. So if anyone at ChopStars is reading this get at me! I’m tryna get that CHOPNOTSLOP stamp of approval out here lol.
villin: Listening to your catalog, there's a thread of collaboration that runs throughout it. That dates back to work with Tha Füt and runs through much of your solo work. How did you decide who to work with for None Chiller, and what was your hope or expectation when linking up with Anthony for the recording, mixing, and mastering of the album?
Chill Mac: I love to collaborate. I think it brings the best out in people. I have learned my creative process and the beginning stages are definitely spent in isolation but more often than not I need to work with other creatives to help bring my vision to life. When I connected with AMMixes I was just hungry to create in a way that didn’t have any limitations and I thrive on keeping things as organic as possible. I am blessed to have a relationship with Anthony like I do; he has definitely helped me grow as an artist and I can’t speak for the man, but I’d like to think the feeling is mutual. Nothing has ever been forced or confusing. But I think most importantly I wanted to make a statement that “Chill Mac” can stand on its own. Being a solo artist is much different than being in a group. I definitely had a lot of fun and built my foundation in that group, but I am able to express myself more unapologetic and organically as “Chill Mac”… it’s just me.
villin: Also relating to collaboration, I'm curious about something relating to the work you do with the DMMC's Hip-Hop 101 classes you run. What ages of kids do you typically instruct in those classes, and what have you learned from your students that has impacted the way you make your own music?
Chill Mac: I’ve been teaching hip-hop classes through DMMC since 2017 and since then it has really become a passion project that I have poured a lot of time and energy into. The past two to three years I have had the help of AMMixes with recording and mixing and that has been a great dynamic. I’m able to help kids create a beat and write to it, then we get them to record with AM. In the summer program they get to perform at the 80/35 Music Festival. We typically work with middle school, junior high, and high school, but we’ve done work in some elementary schools more recently and that has been surprisingly really fun, too.
My personal preference of focus is the older youth that may be transitioning into young adulthood and stepping into themselves as an individual in this world we live in. I resonate with the kids that are struggling to express themselves in other outlets. I never had a program like this that I could go to when I was younger. If i did I probably would have been doing this stuff a lot sooner in life. But these kids inspire me every time I go into a class and they are ready and eager to work. I could have an absolute trash day, but when I go in and there’s a student ready to chop samples or already playing keys trying to decide how to work drums in, I forget about all the BS and just want to create, too. I guess to answer your question of what I’ve learned from these kids I’ve worked with is that I am doing exactly what I’m supposed to be doing, and not to question this journey I’m on.
Bryon Dudley is a man of many talents and he's applied them in myriad ways relating to the state's music scene over the past couple decades. In no particular order: He's a musician, playing and releasing music with a wide range of acts including Strong Like Bear; he's the owner/operator of a recording studio called The Spacement; he's one of the co-founders of Nova Labs, a record label that has released over 150 titles since kicking off a decade ago; he's a long-time organizer of the Maximum Ames Music Festival; and he's a writer, who's covered the scene for outlets including Iowa Public Radio, Iowa Informer, and Little Village. (The list actually does go on from there!) For this edition of Making a Scene, Bryon shared a few thoughts on the scene in Ames, some background on his own music, and his ongoing work with Nova Labs and The Spacement.
villin: I'm curious to learn a little about The Spacement. You have so many interesting musical tentacles dancing around you at all times, it seems, but would you say The Spacement is your main focus, musically speaking?
Bryon Dudley: It sort of depends, I'd say there have definitely been times where that was my main focus for sure. The studio started out as just a place for me to make demos, and I sort of fell into being a studio. For a while I took it really seriously, and it was my main job, but that's fluctuated over time. These days I'm backing off from studio work a little and trying to work on more of my own musical projects. But I also have a good clientele built up of people who have become friends, and I'd never turn down working with a lot of those people. It doesn't feel like work at that point!
villin: Jordan Mayland was kind enough to let me listen to an archived version of the interview you did together on his podcast, where you discussed the transition of the Maximum Ames Festival from its creator to the team that ran with the baton. What is it about the festival that's so vital for not merely Ames' scene, but the state's?
Bryon Dudley: The Maximum Ames Music Festival is really integrated into the culture of Ames and beyond. The people who created it really tapped into a need in Ames, and it just became a staple. I'd always been involved from the start, but usually helping out running sound or something. When I had to start talking to venues and potential sponsors and things after the baton was passed, I was pretty worried about it, I hadn't done much of that before. But so many here in Ames believe in the festival that it sold itself. Which not only made my job easier, but really drove home to me how much people at the local business level loved what MAMF represents. And we'd see artist applicants from several states away, so culturally that feels like MAMF is on radars outside of Iowa, which brings art and new creative ideas to our state, new audiences, on and on. I firmly believe cultural events like this are vital to even just the basic concept of community, from city to state and beyond.
villin: Which are some of your favorite live moments from years gone by with the festival, and are there any bands that haven't played it yet that you'd like to see perform?
Bryon Dudley: So many great moments for me! Getting to see the Zombies, and Jeff Mangum, and Meat Puppets! I was like five feet away from Meat Puppets and I was so stoked. In general, whatever the last show of the fest is on Sunday night at Deano's (which is now The Angry Irishmen) was always the big one. And it was always Iowa bands that played it, so seeing Iowa bands just bring the thunder to a packed room was always a treat. I have a mental wish list of bigger acts I'd love to see play the fest, but wow are those acts expensive. That's tough to do on a DIY fest budget. I always wanted to get House Of Large Sizes, I thought that'd be a great fit. Or a Frankenixon reunion - I know they had a Des Moines reunion show once, but having them play MAMF would be super cool, they were one of my favorite Iowa bands.
villin: Ames seems like a unique scene due in part to the constant turnover of its young people with the university there. Given the long relationship you've had with the city, are there any changes you can think of that could help strengthen it or improve it in some way?
Bryon Dudley: I think you've put your finger right on it there. The down side is when a young band just starts to develop and gain a following, they end up graduating and moving away, and that's it. The up side is a steady steam of creativity, which is nice.
I think if we had a legit mid-size venue in the campus area of Ames, one that had some touring bands but also had local shows, that would plant more of a seed in student minds that might inspire them to make music and/or form bands. And I think that the cross-pollination of other local scenes, with other Iowa bands playing there, would be healthy for the scene, which might make it easier for musicians to make at least a little bit of a living off of their music. That would, in my mind, encourage bands that are doing well to maybe stick around at least a little longer.
villin: Being on the outskirts of various different music scenes over the years, I've often had thoughts of helping release records or start a small label, but you have done the deal for a decade with Nova Labs. Back in 2014 you connected with Little Village for an article recapping your first year in business. In that interview you talked about finding a balance of sustainability as an independent label, and spoke of a hope that you'd be able to make that work with time. On two sides of the coin, what have been some of the most rewarding aspects of running the label, and what were its greatest challenges?
Bryon Dudley: The most rewarding part was for sure the people. I made a lot of friends while working on the label, people who are still like family to me. Musicians, artists, other technical people, and most of all the people who would come to the Nova Labs shows and come to the merch booth to buy stuff, and then gush about the bands on the stage. That is such a great feeling, to put some art out there and have people get it! What more can you ask for really? Most of the challenges were just the dull business stuff. I'm not a great businessman, and figuring out a lot of that stuff was probably harder for me than it would be for someone more business-oriented. I'm happy to report that we were sustainable - we never really lost money on the label, it was just always breaking even. It was more of a non-profit in a lot of ways.
villin: In December an update was posted to Facebook announcing that Nova Labs' online store was soon to be coming down and there haven't been any updates to the page since then. What's the status of the label?
Bryon Dudley: I've also let the website go in the meantime. We've been primarily a CD-based label, and people stopped buying CDs, so the money just wasn't there to pay things like website fees and domain names fees and all of that. I did make a go of pushing the digital store, but I wasn't seeing much in sales there. One day I looked through the releases, and realized that very, very few of the artists on the site were active, and nearly all of the bands had broken up, in some cases years ago. I thought about completely just shuttering it, but I still use it to put out my own stuff, and when friends occasionally will want discs made, those end up being Nova Labs releases. I don't market it or push it as a record label anymore, though, it's become a sheer vanity label sort of thing. We put together a Nova Labs themed fest called the Uncertainty Festival, which ran for three years. The pandemic wiped out year four, and I haven't decided whether to bring that back or not. And I put together a show in Ames called Nostalgia In Reverse that went over pretty well, so maybe Nova Labs will just become a booking entity or something?
villin: This is hard because there are bound to be many deserving releases left out, but which of its albums comprise the Nova Labs Mount Rushmore for you?
villin: You've been in a huge number of bands over the years, and many of them have some really outstanding names. While listening to your interview on the Indie Music Room Podcast I heard you mention Mother's Other Lover. What is the favorite band name that you've been a part of and are there any good ones that got left on the drawing room floor?
Bryon Dudley: Wow, you did your homework for sure! Mother's Other Lover was the first band I was ever in, with my wife Rachel and a couple other friends. We had one called Amazing Gravy that I liked. We did a one-off noise show once with Rachel, Dylan Boyle, and myself called Molotov Cockring, and I think that's probably my favorite band name of all time hahaha.
villin: In those same interviews you mentioned living both in Germany and Atlanta, I believe. What was it that led you there and then why did you find it important to return to Iowa?
Bryon Dudley: Rachel and I had just graduated from college, and wanted to get out of Iowa. So we moved to Atlanta for work. Rachel got a good job, and after a while they wanted to promote her, but the company was a German company, and it was required that she move there. We went for it, and loved it, but my mom ended up passing away while we were there, and when I came back during that time I saw friends and family, and got really homesick for Iowa. I did not think that would happen! But I realized how important your people are.
Geneviève Salamone bills herself as "The One Woman Symphony," but even that could be a limiting description when compared to the true reach of her artistic vision. Releasing her debut solo album, Catharsis, a few years ago, she has taken that work and transformed it into a sprawling multimedia experience, with its story being expanded by way of video on her YouTube page and live performances, which she continues to take with her around the world. In our discussion she provides a deep explanation of her music and its personal meaning, which speaks also to the importance behind her advocacy work. To follow along as her story continues, visit Geneviève's Instagram, Facebook, or TikTok.
villin: Hello, and welcome to the villin podcast. This episode was introduced by a track titled "Brave" by violinist, composer and activist Geneviève Salamone. She and I recently connected for a discussion about her music and upcoming projects, but also her advocacy work and the "why?" behind taking such projects on. And as you'll hear, one of the things that should be clear as the episode progresses is that there really is no distinct line between those worlds, separating creative work and a mission of healing. It's the same thing, and in my eyes comes from the same place.
This is an interesting discussion for a number of reasons, but for myself as a listener going back over it all, and then drawing the message out of it, it's interesting because the conversation she and I had is in almost a reverse order from the dialogue you'll hear here. When we met, we really dove in head first, and a big part of what we discussed centered around cultural and personal traumas and how they've informed Geneviève's work. I appreciate and admire her willingness and vulnerability to speak about her own past traumas, which is built into that topic, but also her ability to do so in a way that lends informative context for the creative work she's produced over the past several years.
That said, it would be a disservice to her talents to not give some props up front and celebrate the creative path she's taken. Originally born in Florida, Geneviève graduated with a degree in violin performance from Montreal's prestigious McGill University before landing in Iowa, where she played with the Des Moines Metro Opera and spent roughly a decade as first violin with the Des Moines Symphony. Her work has brought her to Paris Fashion Week, which we'll discuss later on, to the Kennedy Center with the National Symphony Orchestra, and will soon find her returning to France where she is scheduled for a performance at the Cannes Film Festival. That is one hell of a resume.
Further to it, however, her music will also be taking her west to Los Angeles later this year, where she'll be relocating to continue her work with a publishing company with which she's already collaborating with on music for film and TV projects. While having also performed and recorded as part of a duo called Dueling Fiddles, the primary focus of our conversation, musically speaking, centered around her 2021 solo debut, titled Catharsis, and the work that followed and surrounded its release. That's where we'll start in, with Geneviève introducing the timeline which gets us to that point.
Geneviève Salamone: [I] just started playing with the Des Moines Opera, started playing with the Des Moines Symphony, then I just started kind of freelance performing. And then it wasn't really until COVID hit that I got really invested in and composing music, because I found that I had a lot of free time. And, so when 2020 hit I started writing music and I never really looked back. I found out that it was something that I love to do and was like not bad at it and I just found that also it was a way for me to express a lot of emotions and feelings that I had a hard time doing otherwise through some of the trauma that I've overcome over the years.
villin: That trauma is part of what's at the core of the rest of the episode; not the particular details of it, but more so an acknowledgement of the feelings that followed and how she ultimately channeled them into something positive. This includes learning how Geneviève was able to redirect the psychological wounds that have been a part of her life since childhood, but also the cultural and spiritual scars from generational traumas relating both broadly to her Indigenous heritage, but also those experienced locally within her own family.
We talk about a lot here without delving too deep into details of her lived experience, particularly when it comes to the topic of childhood sexual abuse, which is part of Geneviève's story of healing. If you believe you might benefit from listening to a deeper dialogue on that topic, I recommend listening to her conversation on the Non-Essential Workers Podcast, where she provided greater context surrounding what happened and how she continues to rise above her past. Returning to our discussion, she incorporated parts of that background and history back into an explanation of her music, which included a response to one of the last questions I asked her, focused on how she thought new listeners should begin when looking for an entry point into her work.
Geneviève Salamone: Ooh, that's a hard question, but the first piece I wrote regarding this topic was “Brave” and we filmed that at Jester Park, here in Iowa, and I had hung up red dresses in the trees and my mom danced. And that was beautiful because not only was that the first time I had ever seen her do our traditional Indigenous dancing, [but] she literally remembered it from not doing it after 20 years, and it just came back to her like second nature. And that was beautiful to experience firsthand and ever since then she's been accompanying me and dancing with me at performances and it's been something quite beautiful for us to share together on stage, actually. So that piece is incredibly moving to me, but I would have to say [...]
I do love the one in Paris though, ‘cause that one kind of stems from the creation and the starting point of what that issue comes from. But the other one I did is called “The Unforgotten,” and that was a piece that I did in collaboration with Dante Biss-Grayson, an Osage artist and veteran base down in Taos, New Mexico who I have been working with now for a couple years. And I'll actually be accompanying him to the Cannes Film Festival to premiere some music. But this was the first piece in collaboration I had done with Dante where he had written a poem and he sent me a recording of the spoken word performance of this poem, and I let his words guide the music. And I wrote the music to it and I ended up getting a grant from the Iowa Arts Council to create an entire visual to accompany it where I was also in the woods with red dresses, but Dante had designed this beautiful black silk cape with a red handprint on the back of it.
It's just a very powerful visual and then actually on the reverse side of the cape it had his poem written on it. Honestly it felt like the spirits were with us when we filmed this. It was literally minus 20 degrees out. I couldn't feel my hands but it felt so important for us to be there. It felt just really impactful to combine his words with music and the visuals and it created a really really breathtaking and emotional piece that we were able to share. We presented that at the Santa Fe Indian Market last summer, where it just, it was… yeah, it was really really a powerful experience and it just felt like we were all breathing together in those moments, where you could hear a pin drop, also. But I think it was… that was, I would say that's my favorite one though. I'm biased! Man, it's hard to pick, but I do really I really appreciate what went into that one, so “The Unforgotten,” I would say.
villin: Aside [from] what's to be expected from an artist's website, Geneviève's provides an avenue to finding more information on organizations she supports, including the Great Plains Action Society and the National Center for Missing & Exploited Children, in addition to resources supporting Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women (MMIW). Stepping that back a little, she explained the when and why behind her focusing on those issues, but also a general sense of cultural grounding which has made its way into her work.
Geneviève Salamone: I think it was just very gradual. I have been on my own healing journey for almost ten years now, and I think that it was the start of that journey that I really dug in and acknowledged and accepted who I was. Because, I think, before that I didn't acknowledge who I was because I just shoved any bit of who I was down into a box, because if I let that out I was going to feel the pain and emotions of the trauma I had experienced. I didn't know how to deal with it. That's called PTSD. I didn't know what to do with it. And finally, when I was confronting that box of emotions, confronting that PTSD, it was when I discovered that who I was was actually quite beautiful and I found that just allowing myself to feel and be who I am and who I've always been is who I've always wanted to be. And I didn't quite understand what that meant until I allowed myself to feel those feelings. And I found a passion for reconnecting with my Indigenous roots because it's such a beautiful culture that is so deeply wound in community and love and art.
Also, my family, we're a family of artisans. We're all artists and I'm finding that I get it from somewhere, and it's coming from my family. I mean, behind me here on the wall I have these snowshoes that–this is what my family makes on a reservation. They've been making these traditional snowshoes for hundreds of years, hundreds of years, all by hand. And every person in my family has a different specialty: my mom sews, I bead, I do a lot of bead work, and I also write music, obviously that's what I do every day, but beading for me is my way of connecting with my ancestors and my people. I love it. It's also kind of my old lady hobby at night, sitting in front of a Netflix movie. It's great.
villin: From the outside looking in, and listening to the stories she's told about her journey to this point, a big part of that reconnection process has included her mother.
Geneviève Salamone: She and I actually connected in our heritage because she had repressed it for a long time and I was discovering it for the first time. So, in a way, we were almost discovering it together, which allowed us to work through some of the traumas that we had experienced together. So it's actually been quite a beautiful way for us to reconnect, you know, as mother and daughter, but also reconnecting with our people and passing on the ways for the next generation.
villin: Through learning about the connection with her mother it becomes more apparent of how the intergenerational cultural traumas align with the personal. For the uninitiated, the topic of residential schools relating to the Indigenous community is a really dark one, a practice which spans both time and space, dating back to the 1800s and taking place across Canada and the United States. The University of British Columbia's First Nations & Indigenous Studies Program explains how this trend was sanctioned and supported by both the State and the Church, noting "[t]he system forcibly separated children from their families for extended periods of time and forbade them to acknowledge their Indigenous heritage and culture or to speak their own languages."
Living conditions were often bleak, while abuse was rampant, "along with overcrowding, poor sanitation, and severely inadequate food and health care." The goal of this was simple, as it was once said: to "kill the Indian, and save the man." In other words, to strip a people of their way of life by way of forced cultural assimilation. It's estimated that more than 150,000 children were taken from their homes between the 1880s and when the final residential schools closed down. Therein lies an additional layer to the horror of this: This isn't some ancient practice, or an act solely of prior generations with little connection to today's society. The last of these schools closed in the 1990s. That means that children who were born even after I was were subjected to this horror. One such child who was raised in these conditions was Geneviève's mother, though for the longest time she had no idea that was even part of her family's history.
Geneviève Salamone: She kind of was taught to be ashamed of her indigenous ancestry and heritage. Growing up it was something that she was always very hesitant to share with us because as she was growing up she was taught to hide and repress all of that. She moved away from a reservation at like 18. And that was right around the time of–if you're familiar with the Red Power Movement, this was aimed... the American Indian movement, it's one of the biggest advocacy groups for Indigenous rights in the United States. There was a huge movement happening in the '70s and ‘80s and she happened to move right at the time that that was happening. And that is unfortunate in the sense that that was the time that the government was starting to fund more projects and resources to go towards the renewal of our practices, of our language.
For example, we have a whole language program now. I take classes on Zoom for Wendat language. It's amazing they only even just started the Zoom classes with this last year because of COVID and then opened up the idea to Wendat people who live all over the world. And I was literally joining with other Wendat people from, like, Puerto Rico and all over the place, and it’s amazing! Because we live everywhere, but not all of us have the luxury of being able to go physically in person. So the ability to provide it virtually is, in a way, keeping our language alive, because we're opening it up to all the people who live all over the world. It's quite beautiful.
So that kind of started at the time when she had moved away. For me, reconnecting with my heritage has been a huge part of my healing process. I felt like a lot of the time when I was going through my trauma I was repressing who I was, I was repressing a lot of those feelings and those emotions and learning more about myself learning more about my people and my family has been a beautiful way for me to reconnect.
villin: In hindsight it feels a little misplaced, asking an individual how a society might make an amends for an intergenerational process of systematically demolishing a culture through mistreatment of its people. The unbelievable cruelty involved here is still something I struggle to wrap my head around, let alone avoiding the darkness of mental rabbit holes connecting the past to today's issues surrounding those who would force their similarly misguided beliefs on minority classes in the spirit of blanketing the nation under the rule of a Christofascist monoculture. It's something I asked though: Is it possible for a wrong of this magnitude to be even righted?
Geneviève Salamone: That's the complicated question right there though. I'm sure you're familiar with the fact that the Pope had come and there was this national acknowledgment of the fact that the Catholic church had played a heavy role in the residential school system, this was last summer. And it was very very much controversial [in] different ways. And I think it's really important to look at that, at both sides of the equation here. Because a lot of survivors needed to hear that, they just needed to hear that admittance, they needed to hear that it happened because it had never been acknowledged by the church up to this point. The Catholic Church [had] never spoken of children's bodies found in these mass graves all over North America. So this was the first time that anything had ever been publicly spoken, acknowledged. A lot of survivors needed to hear that.
Now the other side of the equation here is that a lot of people were very angry because they felt that it wasn't enough. The “sorry” isn't going to fix anything. And while that's definitely true, you know, it's at least a step in the right direction. And I don't know if that's even the right way to say that. It's just a step generally speaking, you know, the fact that it's just being acknowledged is something. It's important if they really wanted to go the extra mile and actually show that they are sorry for the fact that they took our language–our culture–away from us, what the Catholic Church could do instead is actually to invest in restructuring our language and our culture through programs and in classes and community type resources, you know? That would be something that actually would make a difference.
Those types of actions that actually create change instead of just speaking about it, that's where the two sides of the story come from. ‘Cause a lot of people are really upset that they're like, well you can't just say you're sorry and that's it. So that was a really important thing that happened recently and it's intergenerational trauma, it's grandparents and sons and the next generation that are all completely changed by these traumatic experiences. And, you know, I still feel it in my family. And I’m just trying to do my part to try to continue that by doing my part in learning more about my culture, learning more about our people, and how I can pay that forward. It’s been a beautiful journey, honestly, and I think every Indigenous person is responsible for taking that journey themselves.
villin: Geneviève's journey finds her distilling a certain spirit into her music. And with each layer of understanding surrounding where it is that music came from, so too comes a more clear vision for what that music is and what it means to her. From my perspective there are a few themes that come through within that process. Reclamation is one: A reclamation of voice, of power, of culture, and of personal value. But also a theme of resiliency.
Geneviève Salamone: I was going to say I have a whole piece called “Resilience” where I climbed a mountain. I’m literally terrified of heights and I was shaking when I filmed that. You literally couldn't tell because the wind was blowing, so you couldn't tell how [inaudible] standing on top of this mountain, which I later found out was a lion's den. That was scary after the fact but at the time I was like, “Woo, I can do this!” And I did do it! But I think for me that piece “Resilience” was symbolic because I felt that metaphor of climbing a mountain is what it was confronting my trauma. Because it took me 25 years to confront my trauma. It took me 25 years to say it out loud, to say that I was sexually abused for the first 15 years of my life. And at the time I literally could never say anything like that without completely breaking down in tears, without just having so much overwhelming amount of emotions. And it was just because I never allowed myself to feel all of the things I felt in those 15 years.
So I think it's so important to break the stigma in the conversation because had I not felt embarrassed to talk about it maybe I would have done it sooner. You know, it's something people are uncomfortable talking about, but the truth is so many of us are suffering and we never talk about it because we're just afraid to have that conversation. I can't tell you–in the work that I've been doing, in the last few years–how many people will approach me after a show or just send me an email. They just want to tell me that they were also a victim, that they also are survivor, that they also had experienced what I discussed and that they were too afraid to speak about it. But there's something in strength in numbers and strength and coming together to overcome the stigma.
I only found my strength after I saw the the gymnastic trials with Larry Nasser and the US gymnastics team. I literally sat there for however many hours that trial aired and I felt overwhelmed with how many women just kept coming up and speaking. But I also felt that each time another one came up there was more strength than the previous and you could see it in the way that they were speaking that each time another woman would come up and speak about it it was just they were stronger together. And that inspired me to speak out about my own trauma. And the moment I spoke out about my own trauma I found out that several other people in my family had also been abused by the same person. And that allowed the healing to begin because we all realized that we were all suffering the same trauma but never spoke about it for 25 years. And suddenly when it was out in the open we’re closer than ever now. Because we've actually spoken about it, we connected, and now we've allowed ourselves to begin to heal from that. So that's why I think it's really important to speak about the trauma or just to make sure that people know that it's okay to not be okay, and it's okay to be afraid, but just to know that there's always help out there. [...]
And for me, personally, it was the knowing that I wasn't alone that made me feel stronger. Because, I don't know, personally I felt like I was alone. I felt like I was the only one in the world feeling those feelings and, like I said, that’s a lot of times how the abuser will want you to feel because they know that you won't speak up when you feel that way. And, again, all the more reason to break that stigma of silence; continue the conversation, speak about it! I speak with schools, I speak with a lot of groups that have experienced trauma, and it's been an incredibly rewarding experience for me personally on my healing journey because it's beautiful to see that I can connect with these kids that have, perhaps, experienced their own trauma. But the questions that they ask remind me why I'm doing this. You know, ‘cause they will ask, whoa, we're not we're not the only ones, like this isn't normal, and you should talk about it. And it's okay to talk about it. Continuing the conversation, I think it's just incredibly important as far as making waves/changes for mental health.
villin: Channeling that connection through a sound is an incredible achievement. Sometimes the wordless sound of song has an ability to connect with parts of us in a way I don't quite understand. It just does. So while on the surface it might seem strange to think of instrumental music as being a vehicle for such immense meaning, it's really not that wild of a concept. Music is regularly used a therapeutic tool for both the creator and the listener, which is absolutely within the scope of Geneviève's purpose with her work.
Geneviève Salamone: Oh my gosh, any beautiful piece of music, historically, has some kind of emotion–very strong emotion–attached to it, whether that be good or bad. And I can say the same for myself. And the pieces that I write, everything is very emotionally charged. I think as an artist we we find a way to use our music or art as a conduit for emotions. And I find it really therapeutic to take a really gross emotion–I don't know if I would say gross, like my therapist would be like, it is what it is, don't call it good or bad. That would be what [...] I guess what I'm getting at is that it's good to recognize it. Because a lot of what I was dealing with when I was first confronting my PTSD is: I quite literally could not tell you what emotion I was feeling. I had a diagram of all of these words that were associating with different emotions because there was so much happening that I could not sort through it. So, this was how I ended up writing my first album, Catharsis.
Each piece on the album is a different emotion. The piece, “Rage,” I wrote about the moment that I found out I wasn't the only one that was sexually abused in my family. I break a violin against a wall in the music video. And I bought this violin on Facebook Marketplace. It was already–it had a giant crack down the center. But I channeled that anger and that music and it felt like a really healthy way to channel that really intense emotion. And that's kind of how the whole album became Catharsis, which I guess for the record means the release of pent-up emotions, which is also really appropriate to this conversation.
villin: Even when I first reached out to see if Geneviève would spend some time speaking with me, I knew I had a bit of an agenda for doing so, based on my own personal relationship with some of the subject matter discussed here. I'll try to keep this short, but I grew up in western Canada and for as long as I can recall, the country has elevated and celebrated the music of a band called the Tragically Hip. The lead singer of that band was a man named Gord Downie. Gord passed away in 2017 from brain cancer, and for a host of reasons his death was personally significant to me, and one of those reasons is relevant here. A year before he passed, Gord released an album (alongside an animated film and graphic novel) called Secret Path. Secret Path is very much a concept album, though it's one rooted in reality, telling the story of a young boy named Chanie who died in the 1960s while trying to find his way back home after escaping from a residential school.
My hope is this doesn't come off as transposing my own personal narrative over someone else's story, because I don't want that to be the lasting impression. But my desire to do this is based on my own experience, and my hope is this does for someone what Gord did for me. He began to open my eyes to an issue that had been hiding in plain sight. “Canada is not Canada,” he wrote in the liner notes for Secret Path. He continued, adding that “We are not the country we think we are.” I think that's true here in the U.S., as well. When I first read those words they shattered me. None of us are who we are without the past having existed. That's just a fact. No matter how little we might have personally contributed to the past, that doesn't mean we aren't subject to its consequences, whether that be privilege or hardship.
So much of my own national culture is wound around a global nice guy image, a veneer or a thin top coat over its reality, being that a significant portion of its citizens still reel from the effects of such policy as that which resulted in residential schools being implemented in the first place. Statistics backing this are incredibly damning. Indigenous women and girls account for roughly a quarter of all female homicides in the country, for example, despite making up a tiny fraction of the its population. And over half of the country's children in foster care are Indigenous youth, despite not even accounting for ten percent of the country's population aged 14 or under.
Gord Downie was a tricky, if not at times cantankerous human, though I looked up to him all the same. He knew his time was limited when he began to take on would become Secret Path and decided to dedicate himself to that project, to learn what he could, and to amplify that story. Gord called the album the best thing he’s ever done. He said he had to do it because it was good for his heart. I appreciate the opportunity to help share Geneviève's story as she carries her own message of awareness forward with her. Incorporating such advocacy work into her art is something I admire, particularly when the subject at its core is of such a heavy weight. This recording doesn't end where she and I concluded our talk, but almost where we began, touching on a parallel thought to Gord's, speaking to the importance of using one's platform, however big or small it might be, to do what's good for your heart.
Geneviève Salamone: When I got invited to perform at Paris Fashion Week I knew that I wanted to take the chance to say something important on the fashion world's largest stage. Because it's an incredible opportunity to be able to say something like that at a place like that. So I worked with collaborator MEKA, who is a fashion designer from Seattle–based in Seattle–her name is Mary Kelsay. And we had connected a few months previously but long story short we ended up speaking and collaborating. We were both very much passionate about raising awareness for the missing and murdered Indigenous women, it just impacts a lot of people within our community. And if you're not familiar with that movement, essentially Indigenous women, girls, [and] two-spirited people are murdered and go missing on a much higher rate than any other group of peoples. Even here in Des Moines we’re only a couple hours away from one of the worst hotspots for MMIW, and that's Omaha. A lot of the hotspots you'll find looking on a map follow where the oil is, so a lot of what are called “man camps” are hotspots.
Being a survivor of sexual assault and just being really passionate about my Indigenous heritage, I really wanted to speak up and out about this while I was in Paris. So I worked with this Indigenous fashion designer who had created this collection of red dresses. In Indigenous culture many of our cultures believe that the color red is the only color that spirits can see. So she designed this collection of red dresses that were going to be premiered at Paris Fashion Week and I wrote this piece of music called “For Our Sisters,” which included some spoken word elements, both in English and in French, because I wanted to make sure that the audience understood what it was about whether they spoke English or French.
But we ended up filming a music video at some of the largest iconic places in Paris: the Eiffel Tower, the Louvre, and the Gardens of Versailles. And it was incredibly moving to film at those locations because not only were we getting questions of what is this for, what is this about, oh, what can I do to help or learn more about this issue, we were educating the French people on their own history of the fact that they were amongst the original colonizers of Turtle Island. You know, very much that in the same fashion that we find in the United States and Canada that there are a lot of things not shared in history books–same thing in France, people had no idea what the impact of colonization had on the Indigenous peoples of the United States and Canada.
So it's just a moment of education and using art–a very universal language–to connect different countries, different languages, different cultures together to understand this common issue, which is the fact that there are Indigenous women, girls, and two-spirited people going missing at a much higher rate. So that was the performance in Paris. We premiered the music and then we also had filmed it at that time. And I later premiered that music video in Anchorage, Alaska–which statistically is the highest MMIW rate in the country. It was really incredibly emotional and moving to be able to present it there, just being very much at the ground zero of this epidemic. It was incredibly powerful, I don't think there was a dry eye in the room. And it's not that I was creating it to make people cry, but I was creating it because I want the people who know nothing about it to get angry. I want them to be sad. I want them to do something about it. I want them to feel so they can see what our people are experiencing every single day, and have been experiencing for generations and generations. So by creating this emotional content to raise awareness on this issue, we are in fact spreading awareness, we’re creating change, we’re directing any funds toward these non-profits that are actively on the ground searching for our missing and murdered Indigenous peoples. So, it’s just a part of the work that I’m really grateful to be able to do, because it really feels like we’re doing something, and helping keep the conversation going.
Making a Scene is an ongoing feature focused around discussions on the Iowa music scene. For this edition, Miguel of the Nasty Collective tapped in to give some background on his work and the local scene where he's at in Sioux City. Focusing primarily on video production in western Iowa, Miguel has created music videos for the likes of Gifo and cri$is, in addition to hosting the Nasty Collective Podcast (which features a wide variety of guests ranging from musicians to local business owners). Here, he provides a bit of background on the podcast and what inspires him creatively, while shouting out some of his favorite local venues and artists along the way.
villin: What type of work do you do related to music?
The Nasty Collective: I work on music videos, interviews (not only music-based, but mostly music), cover arts, photography, any video work, sometime create music myself (although I’m not the best at it; I tend to have fun with it).
villin: What led you into focusing on music?
The Nasty Collective: I would say what got me looking into music is a couple of things. For one, I wanted to do cinematic videos because of Illegal Civ, FADER, Quentin Tarantino, and many more artist. Once I got into looking at visuals, I came across a song by A$AP Rocky that caught my attention—“LSD” directed by Dexter Navy. And that music video blew me away. I wanted to make visuals that people would enjoy, just as much I as enjoyed that video and other directors' content. I started with photos then transitioned to video. I never aimed for music directly, it’s more of creating content around music because I love the art of music. Music videos have been a goal of mine to create as well. So I’m just an all around artist that loves to create and enjoy different media of art. That’s what I’m about.
villin: What are your favorite venues/places to see live music?
The Nasty Collective: Whiskey Dick's because of how welcoming they are to anyone who wants to perform/ throw a show. I threw my first show here as a promoter and Ronnie was extremely fair and nice about the whole situation. The Marquee because of how beautiful the stage is and how nice the bartenders are at times. They also have an outside area that people love to use for hanging out and smoking a cigarette. Also: The Waiting Room Lounge down in Omaha and Grandview Park during Saturday in the Park (both the Main Stage there and the Abe Stage).
villin: Who are some of your favorite local artists?
villin: What's the last local concert/show you went to?
The Nasty Collective: As of writing this, last night I went to MED CALL TOUR featuring King Iso with Taebo Tha Truth, Otis Julius [and other local artists]. The show was really cool! They really put on a show for everyone. Music was amazing, the sounds were on key, and the crowd was responsive the whole night. Very cool to see.
villin: Do you have a favorite local concert/show that comes to mind?
The Nasty Collective: I really liked the one show I put on as a promoter, LET IT SNOW BY NASTYCO. It was cool to have accomplished that, even though it was a smaller event. Felt awesome.
villin: What are some notable changes or developments you've seen in your city's music scene over the last few years?
The Nasty Collective: I have seen progress in people being more social, coming out of COVID (even though it is still around and getting people sick) I believe people are wanting to interact more and have more connections.
villin: What’s missing from the scene there?
The Nasty Collective: I think the only thing that’s missing is coming together as a community and trying to level each other to a higher level. I do believe that it seems as if the community is on the right path currently.
villin: What changes could help improve the local music scene there?
The Nasty Collective: I will say it seems the music scene is getting better day by day. Not too sure what can improve it beside what people are doing now, going out to events and showing support!
villin: Is there anyone in your community you've drawn inspiration from when it comes to making videos?
The Nasty Collective: In my time as a film maker I draw inspiration from everyone and everything God has created. Some of the things in life I took inspiration of are: The way the trees move in Colorado as if they were dancing; the rain that falls during a storm; the sun setting and its rays hitting a certain way; dark days that are cloudy; things like that. As far as people, I would say I looked into Mikey Alfred a lot (creator of Illegal Civilization), Quentin Tarantino, Seth Rogen, Ben Stiller, Steven Spielberg and Director X. I have homies that make visual art and they are great at it. But as far as inspiration I take that from a lot of different things. Movies, anime, and podcasts are the most things I’d say.
For more from Miguel and the Nasty Collective check his work out on YouTube or follow along on Instagram.
In some ways, Lennie Quest is the product of a small Midwestern town, while in others the culmination of a lifetime of experience from a globetrotting traveler. The name itself is the moniker of Dalton Krum, who adopted it to produce his pop-inspired rap over the past several years, but the music which followed hasn't been limited by local influence. The National Guard opened the world up for Krum, who has used that and higher education to extend the reaches of his creativity, culminating last year in the release of a ten-track album titled DEEP DEEP DREAMER. Connecting via email, we discussed the album, as well as discovering inspiration from loss, how his time focusing on music at Millikin University impacted him, and what message he'd share with his younger self if given the opportunity.
villin: Through a few past interviews you've spoken to the roots of your musical journey, including growing up in choir and recording off the beat to Lil Wayne's "How to Love" in middle school. If your current self could give music-related guidance to your younger self, what would you say?
Lennie Quest: I actually think about this a lot; not necessarily what I would say to my younger self, but rather just acknowledging how happy my younger self would be if he could have heard the music I’m making now. Everyone’s journey is different, and at times I definitely have imposter syndrome when it comes to my abilities, but the growth has been real and it’s healthy to be cognizant of that. I would tell myself to keep in mind not to rush things, to ask more questions, and that it’s okay to make really, really hard decisions. At the end of the day, I care what others think about me and my work to an extent; that’s the vulnerability of being creative in any medium. There are those who believe in me and my abilities and those who don’t. I feel like that’s a lifelong issue, but that’s a tangent.
villin: As an outsider looking in, this past year appears to have been really significant in your world. Aside from a few other notable personal experiences, you released the 10 track album DEEP DEEP DREAMER. The album is loaded with collaborations, including French artist Jay Da Panthera, who you connected with in Decatur. That meeting seemed to have arisen out of your work managing the recording studio at Millikin while you were there. Do you think something like DEEP DEEP DREAMER could still have been made had you not landed at the school and developed the relationships you did along the way?
Lennie Quest: So I met Jay from an event I created with Suite 704 (a local studio/creative-ventures business in Decatur, IL). For my last internship, I really wanted to do some event planning and something for the community. I came up with a 48-hour song challenge; which obviously I’m not the first person to ever have the idea for one, but it was the first time something like that had ever been held in and for the community. Jay is an employee of Suite 704 so he was a part of the planning process, and through chatting with him I found out about the music he makes and knew that I needed to make a collab happen before I graduated. Having a whole verse of French on a track still is exciting for me, and I’m grateful that I came upon that opportunity.
Art is an expression of artists’ experiences, so I’d say that DEEP DEEP DREAMER definitely is a product of the connections and abilities I grew both in college and back in Iowa. I was fortunate to have some great features, both from people at Millikin/Decatur and Iowan artists. All of that said, I’ve been making music for a while now, and I would have still been working on music no matter what happened. It wouldn’t be DEEP DEEP DREAMER, but there’d still be an album.
villin: On the topic of the album, explain the album art for me and what significance the title holds for you.
Lennie Quest: That photo is from Leah Marlene’s American Idol homecoming show in Normal, Illinois. If you look closely, the faces in the back turned out really weird, almost AI-like. To me, the title coincides with the photo; it’s me in a sea of people (which represents society), and I’m just a part of it, existing and doing my own thing. To be an artist truly for the love of the craft feels like a very deep dream, and it always has been. It’s easy to feel lost in the void of the lives of those around you, and that’s the general feeling I was wanting to convey.
villin: After graduating with degrees in Music Business and Commercial Music, you landed in Pennsylvania for a military school before transitioning south to another role in Florida. That barely seems to scratch the surface in terms of what you've seen of the world, though, as you've also traveled extensively as a member of the National Guard. How do you think seeing so many different locals and interaction with so many different people has informed your work creatively?
Lennie Quest: I’ve been fortunate to have many unique experiences in my life. I think overall they make me more well-rounded as an individual and instill confidence in myself and my work. One of the most significant times I felt impacted was during the making of my album Genesis that I made while deployed to Kosovo. At a time where I didn’t have the ability to record vocals, I took it as a chance to embrace the change of my surroundings and put that energy in a change of style. That album is all over the place, and I’m really proud to say that. It reflects what I was going through at the time. Most people would think that a bunch of experiences would have you pull in a bunch more influences, but I kind of feel the opposite of that. I feel like everything has culminated into me becoming more of an individual in my sound. I don’t necessarily try to sound unique, but people tell me that I do. It’s very confirming to be told that.
villin: It's hard to know what the lasting value of an experience will be when you've just experienced it, but what do you think you're most grateful for stemming from your interactions with Kevin Guarnieri at the school?
Lennie Quest: KG is an amazing human being. There is a mutual respect between the two of us that is really special. He’s a very blunt person. There are no games, and I really respect that. I admire that man, and we still text every few weeks. His career is beyond impressive; make sure to check his credits on AllMusic. One time he brought an electronic keyboard into the studio and I asked him about it because I know he doesn’t play. Casually, he told me that he’s had it for years from having to buy it on a whim for a Justin Timberlake session. Miss him a lot.
What I gained from him were experiences of genuine interactions. I could sit down and talk to him for hours; not even just about studio topics, but just about life. I felt separated from my peers through my different journey, so I honestly didn’t really have many friends in college. I had better friendships with some of my professors than students, which was comforting when coming back to campus from deployment. Before I left Millikin, I was grateful to be invited over to his home for dinner with his family. Although I had never met KG’s wife or kids before, it had always been obvious that his family is the most important thing in the world to him, so I was a little nervous. It was a great hang though, and it’s honestly one of my fondest memories from my time at Millikin.
villin: In your Sheesh Media interview, there was mention of a friend of yours who passed away and a comment was made about how his death resulted in you leaning further into your music. To me though, I interpreted that part of the conversation to read as something beyond simply influencing a drive to create and make the most of your time, but rather, fulfilling an obligation to live as best you can for however long as you can do so. Does that resonate with you and how have you seen that sort of feeling show up in your work, if so?
Lennie Quest: Cori’s passing had a profound impact on me. I’ll reiterate, it’s not like we were friends since kindergarten or even best friends, but his freestyling abilities and love for the craft were unmatched, and that was inspiring. I’ll agree with you that his passing affected more than just my work, but that’s where the bulk of it went. I think losing anybody affects people differently; it’s just another reminder of the time limit and unpredictability of life. I’ve lost a few family members within recent years, all of which I wish I’d spent more time engaging with. Once they’re gone, that’s when you have all of the questions and the thoughts. It hurts, and it makes you want to be more open with the people that are still in your life. Those losses also make you want to be a better person. I’m not perfect; I’ve made many mistakes, and I know that I will continue to, but I learn and I grow. That’s the human experience.
villin: Besides DEEP DEEP DREAMER, 2018's Weeknights and a slew of singles, you've also released beat and production-focused tracks along the way. You've done that, however, under your given name, Dalton Krum. Why the separation between "Dalton" and "Lennie"?
Lennie Quest: I wanted to keep those projects separated because of their different vibes and intentions. Although I love to play with different styles no matter what I’m doing, Lennie Quest releases are still a lot more focused than Dalton Krum releases. “DK” is my ultimate playground, where I can just do whatever I want. Maybe one day there will be a crossover episode!
villin: You and I had messaged briefly a while back after you'd been at a studio summit in Nashville, specifically naming the Welcome to 1979 studio as a stop on the trip. What did you take away from that experience? Would you like to open a recording studio of your own someday?
Lennie Quest: For those of us that were selected to go, working the summit was almost like a test. One thing co-owner Chris Mara essentially said was that if someone couldn’t handle keeping the coffee pots full or making sure that there were still paper towels in the bathrooms, then how could they be trusted in a session? Makes sense. We got the chance to sit in on some panels, meet new people, and have a great closing conversation with Chris and Yoli (Chris’ wife and other co-owner of Welcome to 1979). The mastering and vinyl work that they do there is jaw-dropping; they recorded a session directly to vinyl when I was there. I had a great time, and whether its for a job or just to say hi, I hope to find myself back there one day.
When it comes to opening my own studio, I’d have to say no. Unfortunately I’m really out of the loop when it comes to local studios, especially in Iowa City. I remember going to Elite Sound and Design (ESD) in downtown Iowa City, but it’s long gone. Alex Arthur has done incredible things with Carousel Studios in Des Moines. I know there are other places like Flat Black in the area, but I do feel like IC is missing what it used to have for rappers. I would be interested in producing/engineering for local artists, but I don’t think that I’m the one to open a brick-and-mortar studio. I don’t know. Never say never.
villin: Looking ahead, have you had space in your world to think about any new music you want to make in the future?
Lennie Quest: Even if it’s being worked on at a snail’s pace, I’ve always got something in the back of my head. I’m excited to legitimately get back at it, but for now I’m just writing and working on my production. I’m really proud of DEEP DEEP DREAMER and I still want to push that farther. I’m sure most of you reading this probably don’t even know who I am, which is cool! No better time to jump in.
Singled Out is a feature focusing on the stories behind a song as told by the artists who made it. This edition finds Traevfx discussing the video he directed for the track "328ix" by lui*. Based in Cedar Rapids, Trae ventured to Des Moines for the shoot, which took an unexpected turn when it was shut down by the police.
villin: How did you first meet lui* and what was the original concept for the video?
Traevfx: I met lui* through his manager reaching out. His manager had sent me a whole detailed story board concept with scene ideas. I didn’t talk to lui* until the day of the shoot, [but] when I met lui* and talked to him, he told me he was really following what I was doing and that he trusted me with whatever vision and direction I wanted to take the video, and I really appreciated that.
villin: How did the song and its vibe help play into the direction you took things visually?
Traevfx: His sound and the beat are really trippy, and I wanted to try to represent and bring the viewer on a trippy experience. I wanted to try and keep the pace moving and have appropriate fx with the sounds.
villin: What visual elements did you try to incorporate into the video and were there any influences that helped inspire its direction?
Traevfx: I tried to use lots of different colors and glitches to represent a trip. This song gave off “Money Talk” vibes, one of my first trippy videos. When we were shooting in the woods I put a flashlight attachment and grip on my camera, with a fisheye lens, and told him to extend his arm out and face it towards him like a selfie/POV. I wanted to show how distorted his perspective was and make the viewer feel like they were tripping too.
villin: What sort of camera did you use for the shoot and what software did you use to edit and add effects to the video?
Traevfx: I shoot with a SonyA7iii and edit on Vegas Pro 14.
villin: Were there any other crew or did you run the whole thing on your own?
Traevfx: My friend Dillon Sheeley helped shoot behind the scenes. He has helped me in shooting behind the scenes for a lot of my most memorable videos. The behind the scenes we shot for lui* will be coming very soon!
villin: Where were the different scenes shot around Des Moines, and was there originally meant to be more house party footage?
Traevfx: The main clips we planned on shooting were: outside with [a] car; Airbnb party; woods. Locations [were]: Airbnb, woods, Des Moines Apt. Hallway, Saylorville Lake, and the Des Moines art museum. We had shot a lot of outside and car scenes while we were waiting for the party to fill up. There was a story/plot, and I did want more scenes for storytelling, but the cops kicking us out worked out and we made the best of it. A lot of the video were performance shots at cool locations that fit the vibe.
villin: Is that the first time you've had to deal with the police on any of your shoots?
Traevfx: I’ve been pulled over during a music video shoot, but never kicked out of an Airbnb.
