Sunday, August 7, 2022

Chris Jones Interview


Chris Jones is an MC and producer based in Des Moines, Iowa and he just released his debut album titled Unplugged. In our discussion we exchanged thoughts on social media, finding personal meaning in the creation of art, the branding of self, and a story of self-sabotage revolving around Naughty by Nature and an NBA game in Minneapolis.


villin: Hey, this is villin and you were just listening to a track called "Time Will Tell" from Chris Jones. The two of us recently spoke about his new full-length project titled Unplugged, which is what Chris calls his first true album despite having release several other pieces which date back to when he first started recording music in his mid-teens. While including a few self-produced tracks, Unplugged is rounded out by a series of collaborators, including production from Simon Hodapp, Joe Gallagher of Sonic Militia, and Wesley Opus, who also mastered the project. Despite the numerous cooks in the kitchen, what comes of the collaboration is a cohesive sound. The most consistent aspect of the album, however, comes with Chris' storytelling—a focus he takes seriously as a lyricist and one that dates back to when he began writing raps at the age of twelve.

Chris Jones: Some of the first songs I ever recorded were extremely story-based; not about myself, just about completely made up things. I figured out pretty quickly that I was pretty good at telling a story. To me, the trick is being able to tell a story and keeping the integrity of the rhyme. And just not compromising there, not compromising with the rapping at all. But, also, being able to tell a story in a way that if you were to just sit down and look at the lyrics without the music behind it it would still make sense.

villin: While Chris now wields a biographical approach to lyrics, it's interesting to recognize the threads of his creative progression which date back to his childhood where fiction was at the heart of his writing. It's kind of funny then to see a young Chris on the cover, at the time unaware where his life would lead, while the Chris of today looks back on that period and reflects on how fitting it was that his younger self was once shot playing make-believe with handcuffs, given what life had in store for him.

Chris Jones: Honestly, I was just over at my mom's house just going through old photos and I saw that photo of myself. And it's me in handcuffs, and I was like "huh, this is, like, a very foreshadowing photo that really works well with a lot of the content on the album."

villin: The thematic focus of Unplugged covers several personal subjects including legal problems and the death of friends, but its most magnetic lyrical moments land at an intersection between Chris' self-deprecating humor and a realization that he belongs behind a microphone doing exactly what he's doing. A balance between those two sides to him show up throughout the release, all the while finding the lyricist remaining firmly planted in the reality of his life.

Chris Jones: I took a little bit of a break from music because of some personal things, but I had to create some stories. And I had to experience some life and just get to a point where I could digest stories from my past and look at them somewhat objectively before I could actually tell 'em, you know? I don't ever like to force it, like today I probably wouldn't necessarily make a completely made up story and rap about it. That was me as a kid trying to figure stuff out, but I really do love to be able to tell a story.

villin: Originally from the greater Des Moines area, Chris has bounced around geographically, ultimately landing up north in the Twin Cities on a pair of occasions. Unplugged was recorded up there and the album features several tracks with a longtime collaborator and friend of his who lives in the area named LQ. While the New York native wasn't featured directly on one of the album's finest lyrical showcases, he was present and accounted for when the story behind the track titled "One More Song" went down. Through the track, Chris relates his story of self-sabotage, where an introduction to the legendary Naughty by Nature led to an opportunity to hang with them at a local NBA game. Instead of taking them up on the offer however, Chris no-showed the game, deciding instead to head home to write and record a song to show them through his music that he was worthy of the acceptance or attention that they had already shown him.

Chris Jones: Yeah, I'll never live that down. Honestly, I genuinely thought… I saw that as: OK, I have this big opportunity now. These guys believe in me, or they're gonna take a chance on me. I'm just going to go show them right now that I can get down and I can do whatever. And I made a dope song. So that's where my mind was at. And it was also like, I think I was maybe twenty years old, maybe twenty-one. I mean that's no excuse, I was dumb. And my buddy Q [LQ], too, 'cause Q came with me and he is a huge basketball fan. He was deferring to my judgement because he always really really believes in me, too, and he was just deferring to my judgement. He was like, "whatever you want to do." And that's the call I made. Oh yeah... should have fucking went to the game.

villin: Calling it "a lesson learned," Chris didn't write the lyrics as a means of closure, but instead just to share the story. While he doesn't seem to expect much of anything to develop from it, there may be more to add to that story as the coming months progress.

Chris Jones: I did shoot a video for "One More Song" at the record store in St. Paul owned by the individual who knows them and who hooked me up with them. And he was like, "When it's done I'll send it to [Naughty by Nature producer] KayGee." So, you know, at least they'll probably see the story and get a kick out of it, if anything.

villin: More pressing for Chris, compared to how his music might help him "make it big," have been concepts surrounding what his music might mean, or what difference it might have in the bigger picture. Despite using his wit in the process, Chris has found himself prone to self-judgement in the past, which probably isn't surprising for someone who includes a song on their album where he roasts himself as a "terrible rapper." Judgement in this case isn't without a point, however, and in this situation aligns with a sense of questioning the goal of his music, and what purpose it can and does serve in his life.

Chris Jones: Looking at my own music within the context of, you know, just some of the bigger issues going on in the world… for a little bit I just didn't see any importance in my music with other things going on. Kind of at the end of "Unplugged," the song "Unplugged," I say—I don't even remember the line, but it's something to the effect of "I feel bad for complaining about the stuff inside my music when people are dying every day." I had a lot of that going on and I was kind of just, like… I would like to be able to be helpful to individuals who really need help. I don't really see how my music is helping anyone. Yeah, I don't know, I sat on that for a year and a half, just those thoughts like, "You know you're not that important, putting out music is not going to do anything." But that was really just me being super analytical, which I'm certainly guilty of in a lot of aspects.

villin: It's within this space where you can begin to hear the push and pull of different influences. Several tracks invoke Chris' reactions to social media, for example, which is an area of life where he's continues to strive for a balance. On one side, Chris is soundly resolved to the notion he doesn't actively need validation from others, while on the other exists a hope that listeners can relate to the music. While producing the album, he wasn't certain that some songs would find an audience, but what came out of recording and releasing them anyways was a response he hasn't anticipated.

Chris Jones: I was pleasantly surprise that—it's interesting for me to hear people's favorite songs and stuff, and a lot of people really like "Time Will Tell," but a lot of people also really like "Wired." And to be honest those were a couple of the songs that… I mean, it's 2022 and I guess probably just from the amount of modern rap music I'm exposed to I thought this, but I was kind of wondering, like, specifically "Time Will Tell," I was like I don't know… I would listen back to it and this is long, and this is a detailed story, and it's a lot of bars, and that was the song that I was like, "Yeah this song is probably for me." But people love it. That surprised me. I'm just grateful for those people still being out there. I just wasn't even entirely sure how some of this writing would even go over being that it is so detailed. But people do like it, so I'm just happy about that, really.

villin: Despite not purposefully seeking validation, social media has proven a tricky tightrope to walk for Chris as he uses it to serve his music, sharing his work with an audience and trying to reach new listeners, while simultaneously avoiding its pitfalls. When talking about our histories with social media, we discussed concepts surrounding a self-centered viewpoint that social media platforms nurture, where everything at all time becomes about "me," contributing to a warped sense of self by allowing for a persona to be developed where all interactions somehow reflect upon the value of that online avatar. But what do you do when that avatar is you, while also being your "brand"? And where does the self exist within that space?

Chris Jones: I have become aware at this point—and I wasn't for a very long time—for me, I am usually in a better mood and my life usually goes better when I'm not thinking about myself all the time. And it's just like in general, day to day, the day's more purposeful. I'm not perfect at that and I'm not some guru or anything. But that is the tough part about social media. Even music promotion, too, because I've just been trying to get better at it and learn a bit about it and you need to put—or I now feel like I need to put things out there on social media. Some sort of content, even if it's a post about music, in order to just use it as well as I can for the purpose of music promotion. But the line between just posting on social media and doing it for music blurs extremely quickly. Particularly if you're someone who wants to build yourself up as an artist with a particular brand, which would be in the benefit of any artist attempting to get their artwork out there. But yeah, to me that's such a gray area, I don't even understand what that looks like for me. I don't understand how to create a brand out of myself when I'm only just myself.

villin: This is perhaps unrelated to any point Chris was trying to make, but in reflecting on our discussion I'm reminded of a line from Steven Pressfield's book The War of Art, where he discusses the relationship between the creator and their work, emphasizing that whether a creator is a "professional" of their craft can be determined by how they approach their work. He writes, "Madonna does not identify with Madonna. Madonna employs Madonna." The point he's making is that the creator here employs the persona for the creator's own benefit, and not the other way around. In thinking about the discussion with Chris, however, my interpretation changes a little. Social media has created a strange blending of the roles where the person is now also the persona, the creator part of the creation. And in viewing oneself as both a brand and a being, it's hard to always know where one side of that ends and the other begins. While struggling with these sorts of questions, himself, it wouldn't be a stretch to think that naming his album Unplugged marks a point in Chris' life where he's detaching or distancing himself from people, places, and things. But the irony is that the release seems to have helped plug him back into areas of his life that provide him fulfillment. He recently played a live showcase, as an example, which marked the first time in around three years that he performed on stage. Chris told me that seeing people and being seen and being part of something like that reminded him just how rewarding the whole process can be. And reflecting on that feeling, what surfaced was a still-developing sense of clarity around what meaning his music might provide, and what the creation of it has given back to its creator.

Chris Jones: I got a lot of confidence, is what I got, or motivation, or a mixture of the two. That's mainly what I got. I told you I've been recording music since I was fifteen—been releasing music since I was fifteen—and I've never, not once, referred to a project as an album until this. Because to me words carry weight and I wanted to reserve that word for something that felt like an album to me. So, essentially I'm like thirteen years into recording and just released, technically, my first album though I've put out plenty of projects beforehand. It gave me a lot of motivation. It just showed me something tangible, like that "you can make a good album." 'Cause I do think it's a good album. I think it's cohesive. I think it's, you know, I've thought it out. Just, in general, the whole process made me really motivated. It just made it feel really fun again, is what it did.

Thursday, July 28, 2022

Gifo Interview


Gifo is a rapper based in Sioux City, Iowa and his new release, Hell Bound, is out now. In our discussion we connected on ideas around creative growth, the Hometown Heroes collective, Latino and Hispanic representation, and "Tears," which is one of seven new tracks on the EP.

villin: The two of us connected this week to talk about his new release, titled Hell Bound, which was engineered in Sioux City by Dylan Foote. While "Tears" was produced by 8teen, Hell Bound primarily features production work by NINETY8, who's based down in Texas. While the sounds are from beyond Iowa's border, the lyrics on Hell Bound focus on subject matter much closer to the heart for the MC.

Gifo: Lyrically, I do talk about some things that are going on right now as far as my journey and what I've been experiencing so far with this small amount of traction I've been getting. Like, how things have been changing for me, with how I look at relationships with other people and how I'm going to approach my life.

villin: A few months ago Gifo was interviewed on the Nasty Collective podcast and he spoke to something that caught my ear. I'm quoting him in that interview where he said, "In the past I did feel a little bit slept on at times." He continued, "Anytime that you kind of feel like that you have to evaluate what you're doing to bring to the table for people to notice you." This jumped out at me because it portrays a mature bend towards creative growth opposed to something more reactionary, where other people's opinions are taken too personally and leveraged against your own evolution. I asked him to speak on this.

Gifo: I definitely would say that Psychedelic really helped me—Psychedelic Sidekick really helped me—in my musical journey, in just being a big brother to me and giving me great advice and feedback along the way and just pushing me to be better. Having a friend like that has helped me a lot with just being able to even think that way. I definitely believe that if it's not resonating then obviously you're not doing something that you need to be doing. And it is an opportunity to take a look at yourself and be like, what can I do differently, what can I do better?

villin: And when speaking of doing better in our conversation, any sense of that was one associated with rising up with those around him, including several of his friends and collaborators who have gathered in the Hometown Heroes collective. The group, which also features Psychedelic Sidekick, Johnny Marz, Sifu the Sensai and producer AMMixes, was featured by Iowa Public Radio this spring, and they made their live debut earlier this month at the Saturday in the Park festival.

Gifo: Johnny got to play Saturday in the Park, which is like, in Sioux City that's a big deal once you get to do that. He was kind enough to let us come up there and show some of the stuff that we've been working on through the winter and up to now. We've just been spreading the love, you know, and that's kind of what Hometown Heroes is all about.

villin: While fresh to the scene as a whole, Hometown Heroes isn't Gifo's first experience creating with others though…

Gifo: Prior to this—I keep saying this last year, but really it's coming up on over a year and a half now—I used to work with one producer who would make all my beats and then he would do the engineering stuff for me as well. His name was Skylar Mann. We went by the Enigmas, or Enigmatic Records, for a while. And we didn't have a falling out, or anything, I just kind of wanted to start branching out, and not limiting myself to one source. For so long I was branding with him and it really started as a large collective. A lot of our friends are still involved in music. One of my friends is a music teacher now; actually, two of them. They used to co-produce all together, then it just kind of—like you said, life happens—and it just came down to us two. Branding that way really left me a clean slate to brand myself.

villin: And now pushing ahead with his own music, Gifo has released several tracks and EPs over the past two years including Never Late is Better, which only just dropped in March. Digging a little deeper into his motivation to create, conversation also touched on personal heritage, with Gifo explaining the meaning behind his moniker.

Gifo: Well, it's a nickname that some friends of mine came up for me in middle school. My last name is Rengifo. I don't know, I used to be kind of insecure about my last name, just 'cause growing up in Iowa, it's not like a lot of people's last names. I guess I just wanted to reclaim it and make it my own. Also, most of my life it's just been me, my mom, and my brother, but my name comes from my dad's side of my family. And I think also that was a piece of it, too, reclaiming my name as my own. Just starting my own path with it.

villin: This reminded me of one of his facebook posts from January, which read, "Last year I made it my goal to work with as many Latino/Hispanic artists as I could, for the culture and to create representation. I can proudly say I’ve done what I set out to do." I was curious what motivated that and whether this sort of thinking continues to inspire Gifo's approach now.

Gifo: Mainly, my focus at the time was thinking about wanting to do that and making that an intentional thing, there's a huge demographic of Latino and Hispanic people in Sioux City. And there's definitely guys that are older than me that have been rapping, or doing things, but I just felt like trying to be that person for a lot of these young dudes that are trying to get into anything but trouble—if they're trying to make music, or whatever their lane is, just representing somebody that... you know, I've been fucked up and I've been not in a great situation before, but if you just believe in yourself and surround yourself with people that are going to elevate you as a person, you can do whatever you want. I wanted to show these kids that don't, maybe, have the best home situation, or one of their parents around, or something like that, that you can do it, too.

villin: And whether intentionally or not, this theme carries over into the track that led off this episode, "Tears." As Gifo explains the song is a direct reaction to the current cultural vibration which has left its imprint on all of us the last few years.

Gifo: "Tears" is talking about the climate that we all face in America, no matter where you're at. Things are crazy out here, just trying to survive on a daily basis, for a lot of people, anyway. I guess, just trying to have some fun with things even in that, right? Just finding ways to not be scared of what could happen to you, and letting anxiety go, and just grasping—or basking in the moment, rather.

villin: As he continues, the track is also a reaction to a realization that if he didn't make a change in his life, he might lose the opportunity to keep going.

Gifo: On "Tears" there's a part where I was talking about thinking that I would be one of those people, you know? When you look at hip-hop, especially a lot of people that I look up to, or used to look up to, they're not here anymore. People like X [XXXTENTACION] or [Lil] Peep or Juice WRLD or... I think that's probably one of the scariest realizations that I had, was like "wow, that's where you're going," you know? Before I decided that I needed to change things in my own life. There's a part where I say, "I always thought that I would be the one to die young but I'm grateful / I made it to this point every day I wake up thankful." That's one of my favorite things that I wrote. I thought that would definitely be me and I would be the next person that went too soon. And that was a really scary realization for me at the time, you know?

villin: I respect the ability to funnel this sort of message and spirit into a piece of music, using the platform as both an acknowledgement of how life once was, but also as a vehicle to express how he wants to proceed with living in the present. Trying to move forward from a troubled past is the hard part, but when it fully aligns what communicates is a sense of authenticity, which has in and of itself, become part of the reward from Gifo's own artistic process.

Gifo: I hope that people fuck with the music and hopefully it resonates with some people. I've been putting everything I can into the music and just giving people a good product. But, just bein

Monday, June 20, 2022

villin on the Fringe Radio Show, Round 2


On Monday, June 20 host AL-D invited me to select another hour of music for his radio show, which hit the radio airwaves on Radio Free Nashville, featuring 20 tracks from Nashville artists:

  1. Kaby & Brian Brown “Showstopper” (produced by Ohdee)
  2. 2’Live Bre feat. Kyle Jefferson “Put The Work In”
  3. Jody Joe “Nonchalant” (produced by $hrames)
  4. Negro Justice & Gee Slab “Mr. Wonderful”
  5. Trapperman Dale “Eat Right” (produced by Bandplay)
  6. kidDEAD feat. Sophie Miriam “Live”
  7. The BlackSon “Rolexless”
  8. Out Here Boys “Savage Brothers”
  9. Negro Justice feat. Amber Woodhouse “No Throwaways” (produced by Aaron Dethrage & JustVIBEZ)
  10. Six One Tribe “10,000 Hours” (produced by JustVIBEZ)
  11. L’Orange & Namir Blade “Nihilism”
  12. Tmj “The Bells”
  13. Case Arnold “Flowers” (produced by Carmine Prophets)
  14. Ron Obasi “VILLELIKEMOOKIE” (produced by Reaux Marquez)
  15. Walt Flames “Boss Up” (produced by Ohdee)
  16. Kaby & the BlackSon “B.D.E.”
  17. $hrames feat. Geronimo Flair “Giovanni”
  18. K.O.N feat. WowJus7in “Space Girl”
  19. Tim Gent feat. Case Arnold “Fly Away” (produced by JT & Tim Gent)
  20. Sofa Brown “Keep Movin’” (produced by Sandbox)

Monday, March 7, 2022

villin on the Fringe Radio Show, Round 1


On March 7, 2022 host AL-D invited me to select an hour of music for his radio show, which hit the radio airwaves on Radio Free Nashville, featuring 19 tracks from Nashville artists:

1) B. Cooper "The Introduction" (produced by Dirty Rice)
2) Negro Justice "G.T.S.H. (Got That Shit Honest)" (produced by JustVIBEZ)
3) Mike Floss "Never Ran" (produced by Mike Floss, Unhappy Hank & Ohdee)
4) Jung Youth "I Got It" (produced by Jeremy Silver)
5) $avvy "Down to Earth"
6) Treekeeper "TRÒP!ÇÁL€"
7) Lord Goldie, Miriam Speyer & Allan Fine "Hey Now"
8) S-Wrap "Kablam"
9) Wick-it the Instigator "The Day's Eye Won"
10) Daisha McBride "Nerve" (produced by Sci-Fy & Big Bruno)
11) Milly Roze "Not Like Gold"
12) Odd Moon feat. Shepherds "Medicine"
13) No Stress "Please Welcome / We're Here"
14) Brassfingerz feat. Lee Lee Stylz "Look Momma"
15) kidDEAD feat. Erin Rae "Sinkholes" (produced by Deltarok)
16) Spoken Nerd & Juan Cosby "Blood of the Grape"
17) Loot Tester "Never Say Never"
18) Vibeout. feat. John The Shaman "B4 THA EGOISM"
19) S-Wrap & Rashad thaPoet "Alright Then" (produced by Daniel Sauls)

Wednesday, March 14, 2018

Please Yourself


December 2017...

There was a little voice inside me saying, "Don't do that because, really, who the fuck are you, anyways?" but in August I sent Ron Gallo an email asking for an interview. "Aside from your music," I wrote him, "I'm really interested in talking about some philosophical ideas... for instance, I'd read (or maybe come across in a video) some of your thoughts on clean living and that you were at one point reading Autobiography of a Yogi. I'm curious if you'd be interested in digging into some of those sort of ideas?" Within twenty-four hours Ron wrote me back, "absolutely down. especially to talk about the non-musical things!" That really made my day.

I don't remember what first led me to Ron's music, but once I heard a little I wanted more. This is where Google quickly confirmed for me that I was without a doubt late to the game in terms of “discovering” him. One of the first things I read was a nice explainer written by NPR's Ann Powers for Ron's "Please Yourself" video. I've watched that at least a dozen times now — it's electric.

"Straddling the fence between two (2) mindsets" begins (something resembling) Ron's mission statement, "1. THE WORLD: is completely fucked and 2. THE UNIVERSE: is inside you. TRYING: to lean more towards the latter." This is what speaks through that video, and is something I really appreciate about Ron: he's thoughtful, he's able to say what he feels, and as a bonus — he communicates it in a manner which dovetails with my own sense of humor.

I've seen him play twice since I sent him that first email, and when he took the stage at Exit/In last month he began with a solo trumpet performance. The trumpet was the first instrument Ron ever played. His dad passed it down to him. With that in mind, Ron knows how to appear as though he doesn't know how to play the trumpet really well. "I hope you're better at singing than you are at trumpet" shouted someone after he removed the horn from his lips. Without missing a beat Ron greeted the jeer with a well-timed clearing of his throat and continued on with a deadpan reading of his show introduction. His reaction to the heckler was improv, the reading was schtick, all of it brilliant.

"Irony is kind of a slippery slope. Once you get on board with that mindset and you think you're separate from something, you sort of start to think of yourself as an all seeing eye. It's all a joke and you see the absurdity in everything. I think it's an important thing to go through but you have to maintain the self-awareness to know that you're never really above anything. You have to realize you're a part of the thing you make fun of. That's the line. Being self-aware is just realizing you buy into bullshit just as much as everyone else. If you want to go off the grid and live in a tent without electricity, that's cool and very authentic of you but no one wants to do that. People just want to criticize each other for not doing it. More so than anything else, I care about people realizing their inherent, limitless value. I want to use my platform to reach people in that way. I want to use my music as an art form rather than as entertainment." —Ron Gallo, Popdust interview, April 2017

That same dry wit winds its way through the band's live show, just as it does Ron's social media pages and interviews. Ron can be silly (critiquing his own potency on Yelp) and he can also be wry (covering K-Ci and JoJo), but his tone throughout retains a very distinct purpose.

Born in New Jersey, he spent a little bit of time in Kentucky and played in some punk bands growing up before moving to Philadelphia, where he went to school at Temple University. When he was 19 he started the band Toy Soldiers which, over an eight year span, "went from a two-piece, lo-fi, garage rock thing, to a twelve-piece freak show, and then it went down to a five-piece thing." Toy Soldiers broke up in 2014 but Ron hardly slowed down, releasing the "weirdo, whimsical countrified acoustic album" Ronny via his own American Diamond Recordings label that same year. Ron continued as a fixture in the local scene, but even then it seemed like his tongue was firmly planted in cheek as an artist.

Exiting Pennsylvania with "Search and Destroy," Ron moved to Nashville in early 2016 and by the end of the year had signed with New West Records. That same year Ron released music with the band the Minks and prepped HEAVY META, an album that "talks about a stalker, dead love, domestication, medication of the masses, the cycle of bad parenting, the struggle of pursuing art, self-empowerment, illusion, and personal frustration with the state of culture, music, [and] food."

The chances of writing a better article than Greg Kot’s Chicago Tribune profile piece on Ron are slim, so I'll leave the biography writing at that (this video is also a great primer), but the point is to say that what we hear from Ron Gallo now isn't a frivolous blend of heady lyrics and irony. It's something more, and it been a long time coming.

Delivering a message of revolution with a side of cheese isn't just refreshing, but it's something of the point. "I’m angry, saddened and fed up with how easily 'medications' of all kind are just being handed out and creating a plague of addiction, disease and keeping people in a daze. More so than ever, we as a people, should wake up, be alert and not be tamed by the medicine man because we are all a lot more powerful than we are made to think." Statements like this one might read with a heavy-handed tone if not for Ron's ability to vary his focus and delivery, each of which serve as mechanisms to soften his delivery. Ron's approach leaves the messages he's trying to communicate through his music and words exponentially more attractive than if he were just another humorless voice of revolution, self-righteously advocating change to a society that has lost its way.

"I think people should feel their pain, face it, overcome completely as opposed to just relocating it. Also, I’m not into all that 'rock and roll lifestyle' bullshit. It’s not 1975 and I think it’s a good time to stay clear and become our best selves. In the words of Ian MacKaye 'don’t dull the blade.'" —Ron Gallo, DMNDR interview, August 2016

A lot of thoughts have come and gone since August. Looking back, I felt lost for a good portion of it, which may be due to maneuvering through terrain that is entirely foreign to me. Yesterday I passed two years at my current job, as an example, which is something I've never done before. This is also the longest I've ever lived in the same city since the last Millennium, the longest I've had a group of friends since I was a kid, and the longest I've been sober since I was a teenager.

About three months after Ron and I had first connected he sent me another email, "hey man, just wanted to hit you back, things have been a little crazy the last couple months so my apologies for not getting this back to you sooner. i've actually tried it a couple times and then revisit and feel like my answers have changed haha. which, needless to say, these questions are really great and challenging so thanks for that."

Now looking over all of my notes with fresh eyes, about a month and a half removed from that last correspondence, I'm learning something about myself that I don't think Ron's answers could have ever provided for me. Certain blind spots are starting to become obvious...



Ron Gallo live at Grimey's in Nashville, TN (2018)

March 2018...

Ron emailed me back last week.

About three months ago I stopped writing here — "for good," I told myself. A few paragraphs continued beyond where I left off above, but none speak to where I'm at today — which, funny enough, is a place where I'm really struggling with exactly what's at the heart of Ron's answers below: Intention. The realization of aimless intention, or worse — selfish intention, is scary as hell to face. If you've been to that place, you know how that feels.

In closing, previously, I used another decontextualized quote of Ron's which read: "Nobody ever needs to hear what any person ever needs to say." But really, that's not true. It's so strange to think that I needed to not have answers to my questions just as much as I needed to hear the answers that have now materialized. I needed this process. Others need to hear these words. And I feel like this is part of a larger message that I couldn't have come to had I tried to force it. I'm really fucking glad I emailed that guy.

villin: Not that there’s anything wrong with Sublime, but from time to time I have to explain to people that I don’t have the band’s album art tattooed on my arm. What I do have, however, is something of a tribute to Henry Rollins — the words “Rise Above” featured over a far far smaller version of the sun he has on his back. You once wrote that “Henry Rollins is the truth,” so I feel like you’ll get me when I say he has had a tremendous impact on my life… I was introduced to him in junior high and started ordering his CDs, and eventually his books. I've really looked up to him ever since.

But for me, he also represents something else that I don’t think I still entirely grasp. He doesn’t drink, doesn’t do drugs, focuses on his health, and generally does well to think through his ideas, measure his beliefs, and speak up when he has an opinion. Throughout various stages of my life I’ve struggled with each of those things, yet I’ve still returned to my ideal version of him as something to aspire toward. He's influenced this idea of who I want to be, for myself, yet I've often willfully acted in disharmony with that belief.

Ron Gallo: Did you ever respond to anyone asking about your tattoo by just singing “It’s What I Got!”??

I think that what is so admirable about Rollins is that he seems to actually EMBODY his truth. Self-realization of any kind is 50% of the journey. Many people have powerful “aha!” moments but unless there is an intention to manifest that truth into the way you actually live in each moment, then what is the point of realizing any truth at all? We can very easily delude ourselves in the name of righteousness. All of those admirable traits of his you listed, which are seemingly positive, are fully dependent on the intention which they come from. For example, the choice to not drink or do drugs can stem from two places: A person's intent to want to perceive truth clearly, love for one’s body, or just an authentic lack of interest. OR, it can stem from a place of fear, judgment and suppression. Someone feeling the interest to partake but they tell themselves they can not based on fear stemming from a variety of places, or judgment of others and the self, “I’m above that” or some delusional quest for toxic purity that actually separates you from other people because you subconsciously judge others for their choices. In this way everything is double-sided and that’s why people should really take time to decide what they really value in each moment of life because otherwise you may be causing yourself delusion disguised as “good” when in reality your true Self does not care on way or the other. I think that’s why Rollins is inspirational because he attempts to LIVE it and change with it.

villin: There’s a galaxy of distance between intellectually recognizing what it is you may want out of life and sincerely living with intention to get there, and on the timeline I’ve found myself on I’m still learning how to execute through continued purposeful action. It’s not even something like personal transcendence I’m aiming for, it’s on as small a scale as consistently digesting an idea and manifesting its wisdom in my own life. I really struggle with that, and to that end, I’m wondering what you see yourself struggling with now, in face of learned knowledge, or if there's a personal understanding you might have where you feel you should be taking different action in your life than you are, or challenging yourself further?

Ron Gallo: Well, sometime last year, I listened to a talk online given by a teacher named Adyashanti. At the end of this talk, I had an experience, a sort of indescribable period of crying, laughing and then feeling bliss, almost as if I was seeing everything again for the first time. This lasted for one day. When I woke up the next day, it was gone, and this glimpse fueled my search in an even more toxic manner. Now, I had a direct experience, and lost it. What was wrong with me? Why did I lose it? I was so close!

So, I went online to see if there was some way I could meet him, I had a feeling there was something there for me. I found he was hosting a retreat out in CA in February, and so I booked it.

My intention for the trip was: I want to know who or what I am, truly, no matter what it is. I felt like if I had that answer it would answer ALL my questions, and then I could better understand all beings.

The few weeks leading up to the retreat I became overwhelmed with this feeling that I was going to die soon. Even when I saw people out and about, I convinced myself it was the last time.

Well, the plane didn’t go down and I arrived at the retreat. Two-hundred strangers from all ages, walks of life completely silent in each others presence for six days. Six periods of forty minute silent meditation a day, a few lectures given by Adya and meal breaks. One day one, I struggled hard with the mediation, I would go into neurosis then usually just fall asleep. Halfway through day one I told myself it wasn’t gonna happen, I wasn’t going to find what I was looking for.

Then on Tuesday morning, everything changed.

Adya gave a talk that morning that seemed like it was custom designed for me. There were a few points he made about knowing your true self and the “search for awakening” that, like a domino effect, led to a moment that completely broke me. I had a very similar experience I had last year but this time, through meditation it was followed with what I would describe as a “direct experience with being.” In that moment, and right now I feel like I have no more questions. To experience your true being is a disorienting thing because the best way I can describe it is a vast, endless space of nothingness, awareness in which all experience, things occur. The other kicker is that, our true being is THE most obvious thing in existence and the fact that we ever lost sight of it is actually very humbling, hilarious and seems impossible to not see it.

So anyway, I got back from that trip a few days ago and in an odd way I feel ready to live now and enjoy myself and not make myself feel miserable or inadequate. Much like we’ve talked so far - finding a way to embody whatever I’ve realized about myself. Part of that being that we are all the same thing, makes Truth and Love good things to try and live out each moment of each day, and that it’s all right here, right now. This is it.

Sorry that was so long!

villin: I watched a video recommendation you’d made titled, Jiddu Krishnamurti “On Observing Ourselves,” and while viewing it my mind latched on to his idea that the observer and the observed are the same thing. While I don’t have anything new to add to the idea of oneness, what hit for me with regard to this idea was recognition within myself that the more I’ve been able to work through the things about myself that I tend to judge, criticize, and fail to love, the closer that’s allowed me to come to other people.

Ron Gallo: Yes! What I’ve found is that we ARE the thing that is aware we are thinking. We are the space in which all thought and feeling occurs. For my whole life I didn’t even notice it, I thought it was all just the mind, which creates this almost dream simulation of experiencing life through the very tiny filter of your past, and all your ideas and belief systems. When you start to cut through it all, you find that how you see yourself is how you see others.

What is that thing that is aware I am thinking? To answer that question is worthy of anyone's time.

villin: It’s been a few years since you’ve written it, and you’ve already gone into great detail about what inspired “Why Do You Have Kids?” (and subsequently, why you’ve phased it out from your live set), but I’m wondering if any of the anger or frustration that surfaced between your first and second chapters of your life was due to being outwardly critical of what you didn’t want to face within yourself?

Ron Gallo: Absolutely. It’s all way more clear now. I convinced myself at one point that me being critical of the “evils” of the world was a way to fix them. Which turns out was EXACTLY how I treated myself. Judgmentally.

villin: Through the same playlist you referenced “I Believe” and wrote, “When I listen to Mahalia Jackson I believe in the god she is referring to.” While I haven’t yet read Autobiography of a Yogi, I know it has started to bear a significant influence on your life. While skimming through passages from it, “If you don’t invite God to be your summer guest, He won’t come in the winter of your life” resonated with me. In the last two years, or so, I’ve given up on a stubborn rebellion I had against the idea of God, and have started to accept a still-evolving concept of a higher power. I’m wondering to what degree a god or a higher power or even something as vague as spirituality is part of your life?

Ron Gallo: I guess I really got into that above haha. What I’ve realized is that whatever this thing I’ve discovered hiding in plain sight within myself is at the core of all beings. A silent, eternal awareness beyond “good/bad” “dark/light” “right/wrong.” Some call it “god,” “love,” “universe,” “reality,” etc. It only knows what IS and has no ability to judge it. Whatever name or symbol you give to it is fine, it actually requires a name or symbol because it is beyond words. That’s why all religions seem different, because they use words and symbols native to their culture/language but actually are talking about the exact same thing.

villin: You’re a fan of comedy podcasts, so maybe you know what I’m talking about - but TJ Miller has mentioned something to the effect of how through absurdism nothing has meaning, therefor it’s up to us to create our own meaning in our lives. (Elsewhere, I think this has fallen under ideas such as “Optimistic Nihilism.”) Grace and hope are concepts that are surprising to find within loud, brash rock and roll, but those are concepts that stand out when reading about your current direction. Forgive me for relaying more of your own words back to you here, but I'm drawn to this statement from Native, “The hope is in people’s ability to change, and I’ve seen it myself. The ability to become happy and put light and goodness out into the world. Everybody has that power, it’s just that some people get caught in the illness of being a human. So it’s trying to chip away at the bullshit and get to that good core. You gotta start somewhere.” As you get out on the road more and are introduced to more of the world and its people, how has that helped shift what you place a significance on in your life, and is there anything that has influenced an understanding of personal meaning in your life?

Ron Gallo: For a while I thought I knew what I was talking about there but couldn’t actually commit to LIVING it. But I knew there was truth there. Not becoming that actually made touring tough, the sensory overload, the crowds, etc. The only commitment I want to make now is to allow everything to be as it is, and try and make each moment an extension of truth and love.

villin: There’s a thread of self-empowerment which I feel is at the core of your mission, it seems, but that’s something wholly different than self-awareness, which I feel is given this a sort of hollow importance in our culture. There’s this interview with Aziz Ansari — and I have to say, I think a lot of what he says is great in his standup work and in the interview — which outlines his personal experience with news & media burnout as it relates. “I don’t think me reading the news is helping anything. I think it’s hurting me. It’s putting me in a bad state of mind. And I could see how someone could hear that about me and be like, Oh, you’re ignoring what’s happening in the world 'cause you don’t want negativity in your head. That seems very selfish. Maybe it is. I don’t know. It’s not like I was reading it and then, like, immediately taking action in a way that was helping to fix problems.” But I think that’s only part of the answer — unplugging from an unhealthy interaction, without plugging back into something that carries more meaning. I mean, in his own words he became aware of a habit that was not healthy or beneficial, but replaced it by just tuning out completely. This seems like awareness without empowerment to me. What do you think about this separation that seems to exist within us - analysis without empowerment?

Ron Gallo: I think that people become overwhelmed by the malevolence happening in the world because they don’t know right away how to fix it. If the initial thought is “what can I do?!” [or] “how can I get out there and change the world?!” it seems really, really overwhelming and impossible. You instantly feel small and useless when you try to take it all on as an outward thing. This kinda goes back to the one main point, it is ALL internal. Every moment is a choice. The best contribution a human being can make to society or the world is to wake up and embody truth and love in every moment. Rather than see sexual assault charges, or evil politicians or school shootings and immediately respond with hate disguised as activism towards the “evil” side, how about responding with action that stems from LOVE for the “good” side? It’s all intent. If someone wants to get on Facebook and express all their useless opinions and beliefs and talk shit about “bad people” then step away and not manifest ANY of the positive into their daily life then what are they really doing besides making it worse? Do you BELIEVE in Love and Unity? Then BECOME Love and Unity. It will spread and worst case you get to live a life fueled by something almost no one would disagree benefits ALL things.

Saturday, December 9, 2017

Beyond Trinity Lane


“I heard Bruce Springsteen say something along the lines of ‘the beauty of a song is that the meaning changes from person to person.’ So why take that away from people by spelling out how I wrote this exactly about that? I’ve done that, but I’m starting to lay back on it a little. A song can mean so many different things to different folks. I have some songs that I wrote when I was 24, and now that I’m 30, some of the meanings have changed for me.”

That quote, from a 2015 East Nashvillian interview with Lilly Hiatt, has been hanging out on a text file on my computer, staring me in the face every time I've opened my laptop for the past three months. Beyond it are two paths of thought in the document, each circling around the songwriter and her Trinity Lane LP. The first thought is a broad one concerning my relationship with music and writing; the second is more focused, related to Lilly's message and the person I'm trying to become.

Musically, Trinity Lane is a twangy rock record - think roots music inspired by '90s alt-rock. And as a fan, it's my favorite of Lilly's three albums. (Rolling Stone Country just positioned the album as one of the year's best country and Americana releases.) However enjoyable a listen as it is though, the reason Trinity Lane really stuck with me has a lot to do with the intention behind the process of its creation and release

Talking to The Boot in August, Lilly explained how her label asked her to write a synopsis of the album, which she obliged by coming up with something "really vague." "I read it to my boyfriend, and he said it wasn’t very compelling, so I wrote this huge chunk about it where I addressed all of those personal things. I opened that door on my own because I was at a place where I was ready to talk about this stuff and be honest about it, especially because if someone was facing the same struggle, I wanted them to be able to relate to it... This was something I wanted to share.”

"Every time I wanted a man," reads the final version of that synopsis, "I picked up my guitar. Every time I wanted a drink, I picked up a guitar. Love will take you to the darkest places but also to the most honest places if you let it. Learning how to love myself is something I've always been lousy with, and I spent some time on that. I thought about my sobriety, what that means to me, the struggles I'd had throughout the years, since I was a 27-year-old and hung up my toxic drinking habit. I thought about my mother, who took her own life when I was a baby, not far from my age at 30 years old, and I related to her more than ever. As you can see, there was plenty of time spent on my own. I didn't talk to that many folks, albeit a few close friends, and leaned into my family. I stayed away from men, and danced alone in the evenings looking out my window observing my humble and lively neighborhood. I found power in being by myself." Trinity Lane is poetic vulnerability with a sense of purpose.

PopMatters has an audio interview with Lilly from a few years ago, and in listening to it you can hear how sweet she is. She's humble, particular about what she says, and thoughtful of how she reacts to questions. In person she's the same. I met her briefly after her August in-store performance at Grimey's. She extended courtesy to everyone who lined up to greet her, and she did the same with me, pausing in consideration of what I was saying before greeting the words with a hug. On my record she wrote, "Chris, you stay strong!!!"

"Gonna hang on a little bit longer, sleep well, work a little harder; put my faith in something I can't see," sings Lilly on the album's title track. That song is what first attracted me to her music. I'm in recovery, too - a few months into my third year (this time around) as I write this.






Lilly Hiatt live at Grimey's in Nashville, TN (2017)

Lilly and I are about the same age and both grew up idolizing Eddie Vedder. I wanted to tell her my whole story, but without rambling like some crazy person I shared just a couple sentences, hoping only to communicate my gratitude for putting herself out there the way she has with this album. Lilly has called herself an empath. I feel like she got me. That afternoon, driving back home, a lot of what had been building up inside of me began working its way out. I've never done anything like this before, and am not sure what compelled me to do it then, but when I got home I walked to my bedroom and positioned myself in child's pose at the foot of my bed. I proceeded to bawl my eyes out. All I really remember is feeling compelled to just to let it go. I don't know what any of it means, but only that it's part of where this album has taken me.

For several years I made a living from writing about music. That's not quite right, actually. For several years I tried to do as little as possible to make enough money as I could blogging about music, so long as doing so would also allow me to continue the destructive habits that were consuming much of my life. At that I was a great success. I did this while making sure to not challenge myself to become as good a writer as I perhaps could have had I pursued the profession with the same sort of dedication as I did my drinking. Priorities being what they were, that seemed like the right approach at the time.

This year I picked up writing again — the first time I've tried in a couple years outside of my journal — though to this day, an awkward tendency stands out to me about my process: I'm typically quick to publish a thought without much consideration for who it might affect or how it might land. I've been writing in some form or another for almost 14 years and to this day I have that problem (there's a good chance I'm doing that here). The most glaring instance of this came in 2012. At the time I'd stopped drinking and put several months of research into the writing of a short book about recovery, which really should have taken me several years to write had I approached it with a more sincere level of thoroughness.

Before long though, I missed what I had. Or, at least, I missed the external validation that previously accompanied the blogging process. Having an audience made me feel valuable. So in 2014 I started this site with two missions, one public and one private. Publicly I had a somewhat delusional concept I shared with some friends about about building a one-stop local music hub. Privately I wanted to feed my ego. It was never black and white though.

This article about Sturgill Simpson might be one of the better things I've written, but it's also one of the best examples of this struggle: I care so much about Sturgill's music, and am eternally grateful to have had the opportunity to speak with him for it, but I allowed myself to feel some twisted self-importance when he shared it with his fans. Hell, that opportunity only happened because someone on his team got a kick out of an earlier blog post I'd written and showed it to him. For the longest time the value of my work hasn't been in the work itself, but in whose profile I could glean a little shine from or how widely broadcast my work was shared online. Even then I recognized how ugly that was, and frustrated with myself I gave up on the blog after a few months.

Three years removed from that time I decided to try this again, genuinely believing that I could use this website as a platform to tap back into the local music scene, or maybe even get out and meet some interesting people. As I began writing again I sent a pair of emails to Lilly's label asking for an interview. In retrospect, I'm glad those requests went unanswered.

As I dug into the album and began researching online, reading about Lilly's life and what she now hopes to accomplish with her music, I began to recognize something in myself. A few months ago I was having a terribly difficult time speaking from my heart to other people and felt trapped by my own inabilities to do so. 'How in the world can I communicate someone else's truth on their behalf if I can't do that for myself?' I kept thinking to myself. But as no interview came, the urgency to further contemplate my Trinity Lane notes waned. I still knew there was something in there I had to figure out though, which is why they remained on my desktop. Waiting for me.

Months now removed from the first time I heard it, I can't help but think the music on Trinity Lane has come to mean something different to me than it might mean to a lot of other people. Shortly after that day where she played Grimey's I started to recognize what I was getting out of the album. Lilly has talked about how she had a hard time communicating with other people, which is something I feel I also struggle with, but that day she cracked jokes and seemed so vibrant and outgoing. She was so happy there. I remember looking up at the ceiling during the performance, taking a deep breath to hold off the emotions that were coming to me. It was so uplifting to see someone who had struggled so much come out of all that emitting such positivity.

Maybe with a little more literary finesse I might be able to get away with a musical comparison here, reflecting on being trapped in the groove of a record that skips, returning to the same place over and over again before an external force nudges the needle forward to play out the remainder of a song. But all the same, Lilly did nudge me. She was in a dark place, but came out of it only to communicate her story of inspiration with other people through a medium that would allow her to share her heart. And her doing so has helped redirect my efforts away from this space to healthier arenas. Doing so is allowing me to share my voice and time with others who might need to hear whatever my personal version of Trinity Lane is. Active recovery is the sound of moving the needle forward. I so admire Lilly and hope that she knows she's made a difference.

Now it feels safe to delete that text file.

Friday, September 29, 2017

FJØRA Interview


Born in Canada and now stationed in New York City, FJØRA isn’t a traditional “Nashville artist,” despite the roots of her debut release being firmly planted in the city’s musical landscape. Having moved to Nashville to attend Belmont, she expanded her presence in the city’s scene following her graduation last year, establishing herself within an ever-evolving network of like-minded artists in “a city that hasn’t historically been known for pop music.”

Most recently FJØRA returned to town for some studio time and to celebrate the release of Generdyn’s new Chronicles EP (where she is featured on the track “Bridges”). Now, in heading back to NYC, she’s also book-ending a period of creative success she’s found in Nashville with the release of her new Watercolor EP. “So much effort, collaboration, and love was put into this project,” the singer shared recently on her Instagram page. “And I am just so unbelievably grateful to every single person who helped in its creation.”

Watercolor bears production by the likes of Super Duper and Bryan Todd, with the EP’s six tracks focusing their sound around vibrant synth-pop and the singer’s “Ellie Goulding vibes.” Various inspirations can be heard throughout the release, as well, whether it be through tracks such as “Wild Animals,” which pulls from FJØRA’s international heritage, or “Just Us” which boasts a playful Timbaland-sounding throwback beat.

The following discussion came over email where FJØRA detailed her entire musical journey, while also previewing what might come next as she continues to pursue her musical education at NYU’s Steinhardt Graduate School of Music’s composition program. Watercolor is out now and is available via Spotify and Apple Music.

villin: You’ve already worked with a number of highly talented writers and producers – what has the process been like when you’re approaching co-writes, and how do you change your approach in that realm versus the solo composition writing you do?

FJØRA: I have been extremely fortunate in that I have gotten to work with a great many talented individuals in the music industry. Co-writes and sessions vary on a day-to-day basis – there are days when I walk into a session with a particular lyrical or melodic idea bouncing around my brain, and days when I enter a room with my mind a blank slate. The beautiful thing about working with fellow artists, writers, and producers is that there is no one right way to do something or to create. I try to remain as open as possible when creating new music – this is especially important within co-writes. Sometimes prior to the session the writer and/or producer and I will exchange any thoughts or concepts we’ve been conjuring up to see if there is any potential for creative chemistry. Being honest in the creative process is also something I consider vital. The most rewarding sessions are those where the writer/producer tells me the truth about what they are thinking and feeling. No sugar-coating necessary. In my own solo composition writing, all of these values are weighted just as significantly. The only difference is that instead of talking out loud, I have all of my conversations in my head. Well, mostly.

villin: How did you meet Charlie Lowell and what was it like collaborating with him? Several Christian music sites have made reference to your work – is your personal faith at all part of your own creative process, as it has been Charlie’s?

FJØRA: Charlie Lowell is an incredibly talented, motivated individual. Working with him has been very inspirational to me. I met Charlie through my acting manager, Matt Bronleewe (Unsecret Music, Showdown Management), as they were both in the band Jars of Clay. Suffice to say, it is still very surreal to me that I get the opportunity to work with not one, but two members of this band I listened to growing up. I do think that my personal faith remains a consistent, underlying foundation to my creative process, as I know it does Charlie’s. It is not necessarily an intentionally devised, molded shape to which I fill my creative energy in, but rather a silent anchor which keeps me grounded and secure.

villin: When did you begin attending Belmont, and what influenced your decision to continue your education there?

FJØRA: I attended Belmont University for my Masters in Commercial Music (Composition and Arranging) between the years 2014-2016. I gained very valuable experiences and insights into the world of commercial music that I might otherwise had not been exposed to. I decided to attend Belmont because of several factors important to me: the school was personal and encouraged professor/student relations and friendships, the program was one of two music commercial graduate degrees offered in North America, Belmont offered me to attend their school of music on scholarship, and most significantly it was located in the vibrant city of Nashville.

villin: Prior, you were an Istvan Electroacoustic Scholar. (Sidenote: What an amazing title!) Did you attend school at Queen’s University before heading south?

FJØRA: Yes, I did attend Queen’s University in Kingston, Ontario (Canada) for my Bachelor of Music degree before heading south. My specialization area for this degree was piano performance and music composition and theory. The composition major was comprised (upon my choice) of exploration of both electroacoustic and acoustic musics. As a result, many compositional works I created had an electro thread present, if not entirely based around electro music. The advent of sampling and sample sounds within music libraries also fascinated me, and I loved spending hours “playing” with various music sound libraries. I was incredibly honored to be named the Istvan Electroacoustic Scholar my graduating year – and yes, it is an awesome title! Very impressive… might look into the possibility of a bumper sticker.

villin: Your Instagram feed captures various stops at major studios and recording companies around town. From the time you spent here, do you have any moments that still stand out to you where you thought “I can’t believe this is even happening right now!”?

FJØRA: Yes. Absolutely. There are so many moments where I look around and think, “Huh? What? How am I here right now?” I am constantly anxious that somebody is going to look up at me and say, “Hang on, what’s she doing here?” Some of these past moments that I still can’t believe happened were sessions I spent at Universal Music Publishing Studios in Nashville, where my first single, “Wild Animals” was actually created. Or my time spent at BMG Studios making music with the primary writer for the band Echosmith. I still remember rolling up in my car at Capitol Music Studios, parking in the lot, and walking up to the front glass doors thinking, there’s no way they’re going to let me in. But miraculously, they did. They do. It’s mind-boggling even now.

villin: Are your parents from Macedonia, or does that heritage come into the picture from prior generations?

FJØRA: My father is an immigrant from Macedonia, having immigrated to Canada in his early thirties. My mother is seven generations Canadian, or as I like to say, extremely white. I think there’s some German background on my mom’s side, too. There is definitely Scottish heritage from my mom too, as one of my sister’s middle names is the Scottish clan we belonged to, way back in the day. The MacDonald clan! No wonder we love McDonald’s so much!

villin: Beyond your father being a musical professor, what do you recall about how music was used and regarded in your family’s household growing up?

FJØRA: My entire life was music growing up. I mean, I did other things and pastimes that were also very significant to me as a child; reading, swimming, gymnastics, eating Oreo cookies. However, music was a constant. I woke up to music, and fell asleep to music. My father taught my sisters and I piano from the ages of four, and by the time we entered middle school we had all completed the Royal Conservatory of Music levels of piano. I also completed all levels of music history, harmony, counterpoint, and pedagogy by age fourteen. Needless to say, I had a very classically-trained background. But it wasn’t just classical music that I learned, nor listened to around the house. My dad is a jazz musician, so I was exposed to jazz music at a young age. Additionally, my mom, who also achieved her piano levels as a child, listened to “old school” music like the Carpenters, Elton John, and the Beatles around the house. She also really enjoyed playing the great folk Canadian artists, like Stan Rogers on vinyl. Oh, and Michael Bublé. My mom really likes Michael Bublé.

villin: How did growing up in Canada influence your musical tastes? (I’m from Calgary, so I’ve got my own take on this… haha.)

FJØRA: Haha! I didn’t realize you were from Canada, too! Yes!! That’s awesome. I’ve actually never been to Calgary, meaning to though. Well, I suppose growing up in Canada influenced my musical tastes in a few respects, like what I was exposed to on the radio (Canadian radio promoting Canadian artists) as well as the music I would hear at local festivals (the folky, alternative, and sometimes electronic Canadian sound). This is something to consider too, that the T.V. shows I was watching were mostly Canadian, and so the music accompanying these scores were likely sourced from Canadian composers. I was and am a huge fan of Canadian artists like Metric, the Arcade Fire, and Simple Plan – so my childhood was peppered with Canadian musical influences from all of them. I think more than just growing up in Canada, growing up in the greater Toronto area really helped shape the musical tastes I garner now. Toronto is incredibly multicultural, and so my musical palate just grew and expanded in the most positive way as a result. (My food palate, too!)

villin: Was there ever any stress put on you, growing up, to focus on the classical aspect of your musical education?

FJØRA: I think any stress or pressure put on me is almost always put there from me. I am convinced I am a masochist, or at least have masochistic tendencies. I do it to myself. Focusing on the classical aspect of my musical education was definitely supported by my parents, but not necessarily pushed on me. Perhaps there was a bit more pressure placed on me once I got the ball rolling in that realm myself. But I am the captain of my own ship, the master of my own seas. A masochistic sea master. There’s another Pirates of the Caribbean movie waiting to happen — Pirates: Jack Sparrow Versus Masochistic Sea Master, Part I.

villin: Did you ever try to rebel against formal musical training?

FJØRA: Not really. I was a pretty nerdy kid. Extremely introverted, very “head in the clouds.” I honestly didn’t really understand or know that everyone else didn’t study music on this formal musical training level. I thought that all my friends were doing it, too. Once I hit middle school, the realization that they in fact did not study the various four-part harmony motions every morning struck me. It was pretty eye-opening.

villin: How important do they continue to be to your own progression as an artist, and what are the greatest take-aways from your time together as the GiGi Sisters and ASK?

FJØRA: The GiGi Sisters was an incredibly enriching and positive experience for me, as well as my sisters (who were apart of it). There are three of us, and we sometimes joke that we’re pretty interchangeable – all coming from similar musical backgrounds, and all having longish hair. All joking aside, both advents of the GiGi Sisters and ASK opened up the threshold of popular music as a genre to me personally, it being a potential and very real avenue I could choose to explore. Another take-away from these groups was the confidence and practice gained in singing publicly, as I had little to none prior.

villin: Do Stefanie and Katharine still write, record, or perform music?

FJØRA: Yes, they do. Katharine is actually studying her Bachelor of Music degree in composition at the University of Toronto, and Stefanie is wrapping up her Undergraduate degree in Entertainment Industry Services at Belmont University (more on the music business side of things).

villin: What was the basis for your thesis, “Behind Closed Doors: Meaning Through Musical and the Modern Family,” and did you draw from personal experience in its compilation?

FJØRA: Can I just say, I am amazed that you have the title of my masters thesis. The basis for this thesis was essentially tying together the musical platform concept with sociological and historical themes, using music to convey and support a narrative highlighting domestic abuse, equality, gender-normative roles, and identity. I don’t want to necessarily say that I drew entirely from personal experience in its overall compilation, but let’s just say there were predominant themes present that correlated with my own life’s trajectory.

villin: Having achieved your master’s, and now continuing on to NYU where you’ll be attending graduate school and focusing on film scoring (I believe?), what do you see yourself doing musically once you’ve completed your formal education?

FJØRA: Honestly, being a planner, I really like to plan things. I’m also a keener, so that doesn’t help. I usually do way too much, all the time. Believe me, the realization that I can’t actually control or plan everything hit me the hardest. But I can’t. That’s really what it comes down to. No one can. Life kind of just happens. I didn’t expect to find myself back in school necessarily at this stage of my life, but here I am, pursuing my PhD at NYU. My intention these days is to just be – to create music within the paradigm of school, of my professional life, FJORA, and keep my heart and mind open. I am an intense lover of film scoring, music for multimedia, and combining this passion with my love of artistry is an exciting prospect. I can’t wait to see what happens next.

villin: What might listeners hear with [the Watercolor EP] that they may not expect, given the selections you’ve already released?

FJØRA: I am extremely excited for [Watercolor]. The tracks on this EP are all cohesive, but in my opinion offer insight into the slightly nuanced genres within pop music today. I don’t want to give anything away too much, but there are some tracks that are not only electronic, but also delve into the synthesizer world in a fresh, organic way. There is also presence of “chill” beats used amidst soaring, lullaby-esque melodies. I’m really looking forward to this EP!

villin: Were you born on Canada Day?

FJØRA: Hell yes.

villin: And lastly — why did you decide on the name “FJØRA”?

FJØRA: When I was a child, I played this made up game with my sisters called Fairyland. One of the characters in this fantasy world was “Fiora.” Then, later on, I found out that the same pronunciation, only spelled as FJØRA, was a Faroese term of the Faroe Islands, meaning “rolling tide.” This had perfect cyclical symmetry to me, as I grew up spending my time near or on the water. For me, water is the greatest symbol of change, development, fluctuation, and rebirth. I felt it was perfect to use “FJØRA” as the name for this next chapter of my life journey.