Making a Scen is a new feature focused around discussions about the Iowa music scene. The inaugural edition features an exchange with Oliver Young, who publishes the Iowa Outcast Zine, which is a self-released zine that "document[s] the Iowan punk and metal scenes," covering the "oddball goofy bands, the serious ones, and the angrily militant ones." We connected via email, where Oliver expanded on some of his local favorites and the need for more all ages venues in Des Moines.
villin: What type of work do you do related to music?
Oliver Young: I run the Iowa Outcast Zine, a zine dedicated to documenting Iowan punk and metal. I've meet a lot of cool bands, cool people, and been able to have cool experiences because of that. I've also joined a band called Complete Collapse, released a solo ambient album called Holy Light, and I hope to play live shows soon with both of those projects.
villin: What are your favorite venues/places to see live music?
Oliver Young:Lefty's, mainly because I'm not 21. The Dark Slide, a skate shop in Merle Hay Mall, is also starting to do purely all ages shows so I'm really excited about that!
villin: Who are some of your favorite local artists?
villin: What's the last local concert/show you went to?
Oliver Young: I went to a Vein.fm/City Morgue show on the 14th; shit was awesome even though Vein only played for like 20 minutes. I'm not too into City Morgue, but I liked their set and the wall of death they set up.
villin: Are there any local shows that stand out as favorites you’ve been to?
Oliver Young: My first show was a Modern Life is War show at the Village Theatre. It was a lot of firsts for me: first show, first stage dive, first time moshing. I remember my mom taking me and standing in the pit trying to record, then quickly exiting the pit.
Oliver Young: Another one would be a Animals on LSD/Ill Omen show at the Gas Lamp that turned into a all ages show after Frontal Assault and a out of state band had to drop. That show was fuckin' amazing. Animals On LSD ripped and it was their best performance I had seen. There was an improvised song thrown in their set that was great. It was also my first time seeing Ill Omen and they played all my favorite songs. Both of them gave me signed copies of their set lists which I'm very grateful for.
villin: What do you think about the Gas Lamp closing down and how do you think it'll affect the scene there?
Oliver Young: As far as the Gas Lamp closing, I think it's very shit. It's been, to my knowledge, a great venue for bands to play at and only shows the need for DIY venues in the Des Moines area. Don't take this as a sign of the end, take it as a sign to begin doing shit for the scene. Make your own venues!
villin: What’s missing from the scene there?
Oliver Young: All ages venues, at least in Des Moines. So many great shows go on here, but I can't go to basically any of them because they're 21 and up shows.
villin: What changes could help improve the local music scene there?
Oliver Young: A better sense of community, more all ages shows, more people, and more merch buying! Seriously, go buy bands' merch. It's not cheap to get a guitar and amp to play and can easily go into thousands of dollars, drum sets are not cheap at all, and making merch costs money. So please, go buy merch! Go out to shows! Create all ages DIY venues!
"CLEAN SLATE" is the opening track from BACK BURNER, the debut solo release from singer and multi-instrumentalist Halen. While the EP is ripe with songs about relationship struggles, its sum presents as a reclamation of power in the face of repetitive emotional neglect. Connecting over Instagram, Halen added, "People pleasers and hopeless romantics are victim to the back burner all the time, I fear." For anyone who's been there, that line surely feels like an all too familiar feeling. The following discussing touches on other aspects of the song, including its recording and instrumentation, as well as the contrast offered between its lyrics and the visuals Halen released in advance of BACK BURNER.
villin: What was the sound you had in mind when writing “CLEAN SLATE”?
Halen: I’ve always been inspired by Alanis Morissette. When we were producing BACK BURNER I was listening to a lot of Jagged Little Pill; I’ve always loved her use of harmonica and that was one element specifically that inspired me for this song. For the album as a whole, I was looking for a '90s alt-rock feel.
villin: What about the song made it the right fit to open BACK BURNER?
Halen: I thought the quiet instrumentation at the start paired with the big dynamics of the song would make it an interesting opener. Plus, I think the hook is pretty good, if I do say so myself!
villin: How do you think your work with the June Bugs or Daizey helped you end up with a sound like this?
Halen: I think every band I’ve ever been in has influenced me in some way, whether that is aurally, or simply in terms of gaining experience. There were several songs on the album that were originally written for Daizey! My sound overall is a little softer though, and I think that does the music justice.
villin: Did you perform the instruments yourself on the track?
Halen: I performed almost every instrument in some capacity. Cam Schneider was on drums and John Fisher helped with some electric guitar.
villin: How long have you been playing the harmonica?
Halen: I don’t really play the harmonica super well to be honest, I just blow into it and hope it sounds good. No technique there.
villin: Did you work with anyone to help produce and record the track?
Halen:Phil Young is my superhero! He helped me record, mix, and produce the entire album.
Halen: Nearly all my lyrics are based totally off personal experience. They span multiple relationships and seasons in my life, which I think is sad but beautiful: heartbreak always feels the same. My hope is that my (many) heartbreaks will resonate with others.
villin: One of the lines I identify with speaks to over-extending yourself to try to reduce someone else’s discomfort. Does it help you process the emotions that come with something like that by expelling them through lyrics?
Halen: Songwriting is incredibly healing for me. In my times of deepest hurt, picking up my guitar or putting pen to paper is often the only thing that helps. I also find that letting other people hear about my insecurities allows me to release their power.
villin: It’s interesting to listen to BACK BURNER and recognize the contrast that exist between the boldly confident imagery which you’ve released surrounding your music on social media, and the vulnerability and self-doubt which comes through in songs like “CLEAN SLATE.” Is it a conscious decision to present that dichotomy, or is it a natural byproduct of those two sides being part of your personality?
Halen: I love this question! It’s definitely intentional. I think I’ve often been outwardly viewed as a confident, independent woman, and I have rarely felt that inwardly. Part of releasing this music was a reclamation of all the parts of me I had previously been willing to sacrifice, and some of those reclamations were the taking back of my image, sexuality, and self confidence.
villin: What does it mean to be a “back burner girl”?
Halen: A “back burner girl” is the girl literally put on the back burner of a man’s life. I’ve been made to wait for men who aren’t sure, who can’t commit, but who don’t want to lose me. No one deserves to feel like an option, or like they’re disposable. Don’t allow others to put you on their back burner.
Jim Swim is a multifaceted artist living in Iowa City. Born in Davenport, the sound behind the rapper/singer/producer's work isn't easily definable, nor is it entirely linear as he moves from project to project. Speaking of his 2018 In It With You EP, for example, Little Village's Luke Benson called out the project's "deceptively well-crafted lyrics," "rich sonic soundscape[s]," and "laidback tone." In another review on the site for 2021's New Tattoo EP, Dr. Dawson commented on the release's "psychedelic rap sounds that can be jammed in the car or on the dancefloor." Among other topics, the following email exchange focuses on his lyrics, how collaboration has shaped his sound, and a pair of upcoming collaborative works with Alyx Rush and Avery Moss. Jim Swim has several upcoming dates (complete listing below) including a solo performance Saturday, April 22 at Ecofest in Cedar Rapids, as well as a full band performance at Gabe's in Iowa City, along with Halfloves and Bella Moss.
villin: There's a thread of collaboration which runs through your body of work, whether that be past efforts with Blookah, ADE, or the Soultru EP you recently produced and appeared on. What is it about working with other artists that you find so attractive?
Jim Swim: Collaboration is everything in music. Music is such an efficient means of connection, and creating with another person can take you to an extremely genuine and open place very quickly. I love that. Many of my closest friendships are the direct result of musical collaborations.
Making a song with someone is a conversation and a quest, and I love aiming toward some shared inspiration or principle when I collaborate. It could be a song that we both love that we are using as a reference, or just a general idea like, "Wavy with a lot of bounce and wonky hats," that we use to guide the exploration. I always learn a lot from the people I work with, and we wind up with music that neither of us could have made on our own. It's a product of our combined nervous systems.
villin: How has collaboration helped you grow as an artist?
Jim Swim: I think most of my growth I've experienced as an artist is the result of collaboration, directly or indirectly. I learned Ableton watching Nick (Blookah) produce, and have enjoyed trading tricks and tactics with him over all the years since he first showed me how to arm a track. I've gained the courage to sing and develop my melodic ideas working with incredible vocalists like Mary Bozaan, ADE, Avery Moss, and Alyx Rush. I learned how to write guitar melodies that were catchy but also ache-y from being in a band with my friend Alex Fischels. I've grown as an arranger and producer building songs for Terrance (Soultru). I get inspiration and affirmation talking about the poetic power of great rap with Ahzia, and listening to the conversational wisdom of his verses while we record his songs. I'm incredibly lucky to have crossed paths with so many artists in this relatively small town who I love and admire.
villin: How did you link up with Alyx Rush and Avery Moss, and are some of your personal takeaways from working with each of them on the respective releases you've got lined up?
Jim Swim: I heard that Alyx was dating Blake Shaw, I think, and looked him up on Instagram. I listened to a video where he was singing and was blown away by his tone and emotive delivery. I asked him to hop on a show we were doing at Gabe's, and that's where we met. I had some lofi R&B type beats I'd made that I couldn't do justice to as a vocalist, and asked him to come over. We found that we had similar tastes both as fans and as artists, and it was really easy to write lyrics and parts together. He also is just an incredibly sweet and funny person who is fun to spend time with. Alyx is always willing to experiment, but also has a deep sense of who he is as an artist and how he wants to sound. He is a perfectionist, but also willing to take risks, and I find that combination to be really motivating and inspiring as a collaborator. In our new EP, we wanted to make songs that still had some of the hazy, moody textures from Fruit to the Knife, but with a lot more bounce. The four songs we've made (plus one remix of "Gimme Life") have a lot of wave and bounce to them, and I think they'll be great for a summer release. I've grown a lot as a vocal producer working with Alyx, mainly because creating textures with his voice is ridiculously fun. I hope to keep working with him as long as we both live here.
I met Avery in a much less likely and more funny way. I dated Avery's current partner, Mary Bozaan (also an incredibly talented artist), for four years before they got together. Mary and her sister Sarah both do this super rare thing where they can just stay close with exes and introduce the new people they are dating to them and everyone can be friends. So I met Avery through her. Avery has one of the most mighty brains I've ever been around. They have an incredible knowledge and passion for music of all genres, and what makes them really special to me is that they have a ton of heart to go with their intellect. They feel music with their whole being and love bopping around on a dance floor as much as intellectualizing about the texture and timing of Manny Fresh's drums or the complications of Lou Reed's character. They are an incredible sound designer, keys player, arranger, singer and producer, and the overlap in our tastes is really interesting. Our first EP probably existed a little more in Avery's sonic world than mine, but our next one swings more toward mine. We both love sounds that are pretty, bass sounds that are groovy and nasty, and drums that bounce and slap. I love working with them and am super bummed they are moving to Chicago this summer. I've learned an immense amount about mixing, sound design, and melody writing in their good company.
villin: In an interview with Iowa Public Radio, ADE shared his admiration for your poeticism. Are there any lyrics from your upcoming projects that you're particularly fond of?
Jim Swim: ADE is a good writer, too! We always have a blast writing raps together, and laugh way too much while we do it. That man is a fiend for the innuendo. There are a lot of lyrics on upcoming projects that I feel connected to, mostly because I'm still in the same space as I was when I wrote them. The second half of the second verse in Avery and I's song "Stretching" is a favorite…
It's water, man The guru said let it move through ya Or do it your way if it suits ya The sound of the song is a sutra Pulling me through like a doula's hand The ritual magic is too advanced The ghosts in the room came to a dance Been pulling my roots up from ruined lands It's true that my dreams led to foolish plans Been caring way less who I'm cooler than Tuning in what was it you were saying? Been losing the message with too much to reckon with Let's make it new again
It's all backwards Look at all these nasty tax-cheat masters Machine gun oil rig smokestack laughter Extract every last bit then abscond after If the data leaks tip a cap to the hackers Have to see the limbs on the strings of the actors The mad-eyed captain said we must go faster He just built a bunker near the megachurch pastor's They'll be living lavish in the case of disaster
villin: When thinking of yourself as a musician, do you think of yourself as more of a vocalist, lyricist, a producer, or is it all one broader outlet for you?
Jim Swim: I was really considering making a producer alias for the music I make with Alyx and others when I'm not a vocalist because I was worried the difference between the music I make with him and my solo stuff would confuse people if they were just clicking through my Spotify or whatever, but I ultimately decided I'd just keep it one name. It really all comes from the same place and I think it all has the same musical DNA. I don't think the roles are separate, really. I might be the main vocalist on Avery and I's projects, but they help me think of vocal melodies and I help them think of synth lines. Vice versa when I work with Alyx. I'm just trying to be an artist overall and learning other skills has opened up more doors for collaboration and expression. I do still feel like a beginner as a producer/mixing engineer, though, and am most comfortable being a lyricist and vocalist.
Plus I just really don't want to have to manage another social media account. I would not be on socials at all if it weren't for music.
villin: About two years ago you appeared on the Englert Theatre's Best Show Ever podcast, speaking in large part about an essay you wrote on the nature of artistic success. In that piece of writing you speak of a "false binary" that exists, where "successful artists live off of their art; failed artists get day jobs and become hobbyists." It's interesting because for many creatives, I feel like there's a lot of value placed on this holy mountain of doing art as a profession, as if that in itself is a worthwhile goal. I'm wondering how your relationship with your own idea of "success" as an artist has changed since you wrote that article.
Jim Swim: It honestly depends on the day and hour you ask me. I still get hung up and feel like I'm a failure sometimes, or compare myself to other artists and feel uncool. I've spent a ton of time doing this one thing, and I'm nowhere near where I had hoped I might get to when I started. The myth of "making it" is really insidious in the way it colonizes artists' brains, and can add a toxic undertone to an otherwise pure pursuit. That said, I've made all kinds of songs that I'm proud of and have experienced so many moments of genuine joy in the process with people I love. I enjoy making songs now more than ever. When I get to sit in this green chair that I'm in right now, in sweatpants, in my little room, I feel free and full, and sometimes, powerful. I was talking to Ahzia a while back about songwriting as a path of self-discovery, and that's what it is for me. I learn more about what I think and feel through making songs. It can be incredibly satisfying, just saying what you mean, and finding a sound that suits the feeling. It's cliche, but it really is incredibly therapeutic. I believe that any practice that makes us feel more curious, connected and human is worthwhile in a society that is working harder than ever to alienate us from ourselves and one another, and maintaining it is a success.
villin: How does performance and sharing your music with others in a live setting play into your concept of success, or your relationship with a feeling of creative achievement?
Jim Swim: The first musical activity that really lit me up was freestyling and jamming with friends. I think performing with other people in front of other people is what music is all about. The energy generated is priceless. I've turned into more of a studio rat over the past few years, but every time I play a show I remember what it's all about. I've let myself get down at times about what shows I do or don't get, or just feeling too old for it in a very young town, and I think that's driven me in part to stay in the studio working on the craft, but whenever I do go out and do a set, I am lifted for like three days after. Over the next couple months, I'm going to get to perform some of my songs with an incredible band (Blake Shaw, Avery Moss, Anthony Worden, and Justin LeDuc), and I am really excited about that (April 29 with Halfloves and Bella Moss at Gabe's, and then June 3 at the James Theater with Ahzia and Alyx Rush). I think sharing the songs we make is essential to the creative process, whether that's in an arena with 50,000 people, or even a single friend. Sharing/releasing/performing completes the process, for me, and helps me start it over again feeling renewed. Honestly, I played a few songs for Avery a couple weeks ago and the feedback they gave me made me feel like I "made it," because I knew they understood and felt what I was trying to express. It was a high, and it was just us two.
Husoul is a Des Moines-based drum and bass musician. In this edition of the villin podcast he discusses how he has transitioned from a rapper/producer to a gamer to where he's currently at, music's influence on and relationship to mental health, and the ability to find identity and individuality within sound. Husoul recently released his full-length album, Project Dilemma, in March of 2023, following that up with a single titled "Dystopia."
villin: The track introducing this episode of the villin podcast is "This is the end" by Husoul. It's a high energy earworm that I've fallen in love with, but just one of the nearly 30 songs that the Des Moines-based musician has released since debuting with "Reach" last July. That debut was not really his debut, however, and as we've connected there has been a theme that has arisen surrounding things not appearing as they first might seem. I don't mean that in a negative way or in a deceptive way, but that there are multiple layers to the Husoul onion. In one of our DM exchanges leading up to this conversation, for example, he posed a question asking if I knew how to pronounce his name. I mean, at that point I'd probably listened to his music for a few hours, but by simple fact that he was asking me suggested I was probably off base. I thought it was something like "hew-soul," but once he let me know I started hearing the tags come up in his earlier works. It was right there: "hustle," sort of hiding in plain sight, but still vaguely out of reach to those on the outside looking in.
On an episode of the Full Drop Podcast released in March of 2020, Husoul explained that he began making music around the age of 17 and that the name had been gifted to him from a friend, but at that time he was quite a different Husoul. He was a rapper and producer. He'd released music and accompanying videos. Then, one day that just ended. That version of Husoul stopped working for the person behind the persona. Until sometime last year when there was a decision to revive the project as something entirely new.
Husoul: I wouldn’t say I was a whole different person–I'm still the same person I am now–but I wasn't proud of the work that I was doing and putting out, because I feel like… I don't know if you’ve seen the old videos but, you know, I made a music video for a song called “Chopsticks” and a video for “Shake It,” and those videos didn't really–I wouldn’t say–represent me well. Because it created an image of me that people might see me as, like, I don't know, a not so good guy, I would say, if I worded that right. But I just didn't like how it reflected me as a person; I can say that. And the rap side of it, you know, I used to make a lot of rap beats and rap on them for fun. I would say I got tired and bored of that genre because everything felt too repetitive. I could say that. Everything felt like I was in a loop and the majority of the time I was stuck in that loop. I didn't know what to make I didn't know how to properly express myself because I feel like with rap music it's kind of hard to be more vulnerable about it because I'm so used to the aggressive rap side and drill rap side and aggressive rap side, I didn’t know how to properly be sentimental and vulnerable towards it… Like, making sad music and stuff like that because I do have a–I would say–depression disorder and I was stuck in this loop where I did not want to make rap music and I stopped for, maybe, a solid three years years until I found a different genre that I like, that I could easily express on. And that's when I started making drum and bass music. That’s pretty much it. It felt easier expressing my feelings toward drum and bass beats, if that makes sense.
villin: I can empathize with that decision to essentially try to wipe the slate clean, thinking back to the countless times I've tried to remove myself from the person I once tried to position myself as, deleting social media profiles, websites, or walking away entirely from people I knew and places I lived. As the saying goes, however: no matter where you go, that's where you are. And in returning to music with a new genre in mind, I get the sense that Husoul is taking lessons learned from that first go-around and using them to lean into something more personal, or attuned with who he really is.
Husoul: Yeah, it felt like everything just felt like an online persona. Yeah, that's how I got my first album that I released [with] my drum and bass music. I had an album called Online Persona and that's pretty much what it is about. Because those three years that I took a break on, I felt like I wasn't proud of myself for what I made when I made rap music and I felt that everything just felt like a persona. And I feel like that’s what took inspiration in me making my first album called Online Persona. It's all just test music, I guess. That was when I was still experimenting on drum and bass music. I didn't have a go-to sound in Online Persona. Everything was just like, “Hmm, what if I did this and what if I did that” and just clamp it all together. I would say Online Persona, the album is a beginner’s work. I am still proud of it because, you know, I still had the balls to move on to a different genre.
villin: Which, again, isn't to imply an abandonment of the old Husoul, just a change.
Husoul: I don’t regret it at all. I don’t regret everything that I did. I had my time. I had a lot of good memories over there. I even performed live twice and it was always a good time. I had a decent audience and nothing could ever make me regret what I did like three/four years ago. It's just that I feel like I just needed to move on as a person. I just got more chill, I can say that. And I just wanted to grow as a person and move on to different things.
villin: The rapper/producer persona and today's iteration come before an after a third version of Husoul that leaned into gaming-related content. Remnants from that time exist on his Twitch channel, and as we talked I got a sense there was something more fluid at work within the timeline than a hard stop progression from musician to gamer and back to musician.
Husoul: Yeah, when I took a break from music for those three years I did game heavily. I did, and I was trying to become a competitive Warzone gamer, you could say. ‘Cause I'm the type of person that’s like, if I really like something I'm going to put it one-hundred percent of my focus into it and Warzone was definitely up there. I was competing, I can say that, and I don’t regret that either. I still have good memories in that game. I do still play it a lot but it's not really primarily my focus on like putting content out anywhere, if that makes sense. Like right now, primarily my focus is making more music because that's what I do want to be known as now, instead of just a gamer.
villin: My brain working the way it does, I was curious if there was more to the name "Husoul," so I went googling and found that it (very loosely) translates to the word "get" in Arabic. This was news to Husoul when we talked, but there's an element of that connection I really like. Like: get it; or get after it; get what you want; or get going. And this is part of the creative liberty I'm taking when approaching his journey from the outside looking in, because I see a connection there. One thing wasn't working, so that ended while he tried something else. When that next phase exceeded its own shelf life, he moved on. And when inspiration came up again, he dove in and tried to get after something new.
Husoul: I would say I got into drum and bass music because of TikTok. Because you know the “For You” pages, like everything pops into your feed for you. For some reason I was getting a lot of drum and bass music into my feed. I was like, “Oh my God, I love this genre. Who am I listening to right now? This is what I want to make! I should get back into music.” And I did. I mean, it’s not really that deep, but I think for a long time when I was taking a break from music I didn’t have motivation or inspiration to keep doing music. Because I knew I didn’t want to keep doing rap music. But drum and bass, man, it just resonates with me perfectly. I don’t know what it is.
villin: What it is about the music, or the genre, that is so appealing is something that he and I both struggled to articulate to each other. Throughout our discussion I think Husoul did well to explain the sound, though each time we shifted to that territory it ended up in a conclusion of it just feeling right.
Husoul: The drum and bass genre is more melodic focused and BPM focused, so usually… BPM is, like, the speed of the song, right? I love–I don't know why my type of energy is chill melodies but fast drums. [I’ve] always loved that, I don't know why, but it's my thing. And there’s something about it. It clings to my brain when I hear fast drums, at least maybe 170 BPM. I don't know why but it's kind of hard to explain, to be honest. I feel like it reflects me well making a drum and bass beat.
villin: For me there's so much that goes into drum and bass, and so much more that goes into my personal relationship with the genre. One of the things I struggled with in our conversation was articulating the very same thing as Husoul. Why does this particular sound affect me the way it does? I've been listening to this kind of music for almost 30 years and it lives in a certain space within me, occupying a part of my own being in some shapeless nameless way; a vague break-beat, just constantly humming behind one of the many doors within my mind. And I like that it's there, and I appreciate when and where it comes up. It's strange because, as we were talking, I commented that this is the first time I've ever talked with someone about drum and bass despite being a fan for so long. Thinking back after the fact, I think that's true. My friends growing up didn't listen to what was at the time called electronica, and they most certainly didn't have an interest in the artists I was getting into. Through the first artists I'd heard who made it in the mid-to-late '90s (who helped inspire my journey, like Goldie or Aphex Twin or Squarepusher, to name a select few), the sound felt so modern, yet so out of time and space. Completely disconnected, yet here. It was current yet from the future. And Husoul agreed.
Husoul: Because drum and bass, the kits that I use are all just old drum loops from the ‘80s and ‘90s and early 2000s. But they still sound futuristic to this day and I just can't explain why. It just does. It fits everything so perfectly. I think it just depends on the mood that you’re trying to represent in the song, or what melody you're using and how you articulate the sounds in the songs and how you do that can make the song very futuristic.
villin: Adding to Husoul's presentation of the genre is a visual element that amplifies that idea, incorporating Japanese influences, cyberpunk, and the neon echoes of a vague nameless city at night.
Husoul: It’s one of my favorite genres of all-time, by the way. Something about cyberpunk. It calms me down, I can say that. Whenever I do want to get inspiration from it I do look at cyberpunk images or the Cyberpunk anime that came out a year ago. Or, like, early 2000s PS2 cyberpunk images. Stuff like that, just anything with an old nostalgic aesthetic.
villin: When we started out there was a comment speaking to depression and I can't help but find value in how the genre has connected with Husoul, and how it's influenced him there, as well.
Husoul: I’m not the type of person who just sits down and grieves all day. But I do get a lot of procrastination days. It’s hard to get creative nowadays for me. It’s always been a thing. I just grew up being a procrastinator and I’m trying to break that habit. And it’s been working so far. I think ever since I found this new genre, drum and bass, last year, everything felt more fast paced. I definitely procrastinated a lot less. And I would say I’m definitely proud of that. Mental health-wise it helped me in my own little world.
villin: This most recent iteration of Husoul released his first full-length album, Online Persona, in September and followed with Project Dilemma last month. I can't help but admire the volume of output, but also the quality of it. Being a fan of a genre for nearly as long as you've been a creator within that space is a really unique thing, and when we talked about influence the picture became a little more clear of how this immersive experience has helped him grow as both a creator and a fan.
Husoul: And a lot of the people I listen to are very underground. They’re like, y’know, not popular at all. But I do look up to a lot of those producers and I gain inspiration from them. And it’s just like “Oh, this person did that, or I wonder how I could do it in my way, or what kind of sounds I can make in my way?” Because, granted, I am still learning the production. I’m improving every day [with] how to make this kind of music. And I feel like my newest album, Project Dilemma, is… it's a big improvement compared to my album from last year, Online Persona. It’s just me improving as a person and a producer and just trying to articulate how I want certain things to sound, in my own way.
I would say everything is a lot more… production-wise everything sounds more mastered. Everything sounds more faster. Because strictly my primary focus I was trying to do on this project was: faster BPM and more melodies and more drums and more variety into the drums. Because I used to have a problem where I would be too repetitive in my drums and it always sticks in the back of my mind: I gotta switch it up or I gotta, you know, pan this side to the left side of the ear and pan this side to the right side of the ear. And I feel like I did that well in the album.
villin: This may be an instance of me trying to shoehorn an unrelated topic into the narrative, but I did want to talk with Husoul about cultural representation in music and art, asking whether or not that had much bearing on him. And when he answered, he spoke of a strong Asian community within Iowa, while digging into some of the downsides he's experienced personally.
Husoul: I do think about it a lot. I do think about it. I would say I thought about it a lot more when I was into the rap scene more because there wasn’t a lot of popular Asian rappers that were out at the time. I would say the only Asian rapper I was familiar with at the time was Dumbfoundead or Killy–I don’t know if you’ve ever heard of Killy, but he was big at the time but not anymore. It definitely has always been in the back of my mind–Asian artists. There’s not really a lot out here. There’s not really a lot of mainstream stuff out here for Asian people, unless it’s like Jackie Chan or Jet Li, you know, kung fu shit. But artistic-wise, it’s rarely ever a thing. I would say the media, the mainstream media is more primarily focused on black and white. It’s always been the main thing, the main topic, for a long time, just black and white. And I don’t blame them for that because it’s definitely a safer route to stick with that instead of experimenting on diversity.
villin: Out of that topic comes a question of whether there's a goal or focus for Husoul's music, and my favorite moment of our conversation came as we drifted back into a blending of video games and sound. To me, drum and bass is video game music for the mind. There is a visual element to the sound whether or not there is an actual visual accompaniment to the sound. And as Husoul explained, as he progresses with the music, he can see a future where his past catches up with his present and works in tandem with his current focus to create something even more satisfying.
Husoul: I think one of my biggest dreams is making a soundtrack for a video game because I grew up with video games. I love video games. And now that I think about it, I never fully comprehended in my head… But, yeah, I think I always just wanted to make an OST or just a full on soundtrack for a video game. And now you’ve just got me thinking. I never thought about it. Wow, there you go. Video game producer that makes music. Boom. [...]
I wouldn’t say a huge success, I would say if it makes into… okay, the thing about me is that whenever I make these drum and bass beats I always wanted them to make it into a racing game or something. I can just like envision them in a Need for Speed game or a Midnight Club game or just a racing game. I would love for that to happen. That’s like my biggest dream. I don’t know why. It’s nothing like becoming famous, or fame, I just want to make it to the game. I want to hear my music while I’m racing my car. That would be a dream come true.
villin: A conscious decision or not, Husoul took action to essentially wipe the slate clean, allowing all of his previous experiences with music–and what he doesn't want his music to be–to fully inform the sort of creator he's attempting to shift into. Regardless of whether that past work is still readily available for others to consume, it's helping drive the progression. In this case, maybe driving his work away from something inasmuch as toward another. In that same Full Drop Podcast, Husoul was asked where he might see himself in another ten years and he guessed he might shift more into more of a producer role, or maybe even have something more to do with film or video. Now, again, looking ahead, we both came together on the impossibility of being able to project into the future about what will happen, or even settle on what might be a reasonable goal for another five or ten years down the road. Dreams of video game soundtrack production aside, it came down to something simple and grounded in the here and now. As it stands, Husoul just landed on a hope to find others who resonate with his music, and use it as a springboard to explore the drum and bass sound further for themselves .
Husoul: Just give it a chance. It’s a genre that isn’t out there. It’s an underground genre and I just ask that people give it a chance.
Imma is a Des Moines-based MC and he just released a new EP titled GOOD. In this discussion we spoke about the release and the influences that contributed to its sound. One such genre that swayed its direction is R&B from the '90s and 2000s and as we continued, Imma explained how the genre not only influenced his approach to making music and music videos, but also how it's also influenced his relationship with sexist language within his own music. A son of Sudanese parents, Imma also discussed feeling like an outsider throughout his childhood and what it means to have now found a sense of belonging within a community of likeminded friends.
villin: The song introducing things here is "Thought of You" by Imma from his GOOD EP. This episode of the villin podcast features a conversation with the Des Moines-based MC about his new four song release, though we strayed into more personal territory as we talked, discussing at length his experience growing up as a child of Sudanese immigrants and trying to reconcile that within Black American culture. We touched on Imma's childhood feeling of alienation, which originally led him to creating music. [This] now contrasts greatly with the close knit group of contemporaries he's found within the Blackshoe Inc. crew, which is made up of a laundry list of creatives largely in the Des Moines area. First up though, we spoke about the music on GOOD, where it came from, and how he hopes it translates to listeners.
Imma: So, for me, the theme of it was really just kind of—"good" music to me, really, I don't really listen to a lot of new music. I'm really listening to '90s R&B and hip-hop, you know what I'm saying, just like a lot of old Kanye, Jay-Z, you know, some Nas. For me, music that I like is a lot of '90s R&B and that's just really what I was trying to go for. I remember back in music when the way that guys would talk about women was really different, you know what I'm saying? It was really more of trying to uplift women. Like, guys were chasing girls in their songs. And so that was just the place that I was trying to go with it. And I like to use the term "good" because, really, "good" doesn't really have a set definition. Everyone's interpretation of what's good is always very different. So, I kind of wanted people to be able to listen to this and tag on how they feel about it and make that the reason for the album for them.
villin: As we broke down those influences a little more, Imma made a distinction about some of the music that inspired him and how R&B's reverential view of women has impacted his own approach.
Imma: It's important to me just because—even before I wanted to rap I wanted to be an R&B singer. And the things that always captured me, like I always loved listening to Ne-Yo and Usher and even early Chris Brown, you know what I'm saying? I would listen to a lot of their music growing up. And that's really shaped the way that I view women in my life. I personally don't call women bitches. Even, just like, I think seven months ago I stopped using the word "bitches" in all of my new songs that I want to make. So it's really, for me, something that—I want my music to be very inclusive. Something that women will listen to and they will find parts of it that they love.
villin: For anyone familiar with Chris Brown's past, this statement brings up an obvious paradox. Avoiding endless debate about the separation of art and artist though, it's interesting to hear someone Imma's age—twenty-one for those counting—reconciling a personal set of values with cultural influences and figuring out how to navigate those waters.
Imma: My thing with Chris, specifically is—I used to listen to a lot of Chris Brown before he had gotten with Rihanna. And that was my time where I really liked him a lot as an artist and a person back then. And I feel like, for me, I just kind of, I look at those times as almost the clearer parts of his life. Like, I almost look at Chris Brown as a template of what not to do, because in a lot of his early music he is really respectful of women and then we just saw that it was not really how he was carrying himself. When I look at his career, and almost, like, his lifestyle also, I want to be like the Chris Brown that didn't mess up. You know what I'm saying—almost kind of like that.
villin: Out of the paradox is developing a congruency; living and creating music aligned with an ever-evolving set of values. Those values are something that we continued to discuss, relating them to his ongoing collaboration with friends in the Blackshoe Inc. crew. On their Facebook page, Blackshoe is described as an "Independent Multimedia Collective," and a once-over of their YouTube page speaks to that, offering short films, music videos, album streams, and skate videos. Imma's introduction to the group stems back several years to when he met rapper and producer DRXCULV, who just released a thirteen track album called ANTIPORN in October.
Imma: I've actually known [DRXCULV] for a little while. Right before he moved away from Des Moines. He had moved away from Des Moines about a year, maybe two years ago. And I had met him, I'd say, probably three years ago. I met him through his friend Morgan and we just went over to his house and we were just smoking with him and I found out that he made music and then me and him kind of became better friends than me and Morgan. So it was really just kind of a chance interaction that really just blossomed into a really great friendship. When he had moved back into town he asked me to perform at his Blackshoe Fest. And just from there, it was like working together, talking a lot together, you know what I'm saying? I just felt like Blackshoe Inc. was really a group that reflected the same ideals that I have. And it's always better to surround yourself with the type of people that are chasing the same goals as you. So that was really the decision for it, was just seeing how motivated they were and seeing that it matched my motivation.
villin: The broader concept of collaboration is one that worked its way throughout our conversation. Imma talked about an idea that's been developing between himself and some of his Blackshoe friends to run a showcase at Suite 203 in Des Moines, attempting to create a platform for artists to share a stage together. This, again, speaks to some of the shared values that attracted him to Blackshoe in the first place.
Imma: So with a lot of us being in Des Moines for the last five years, we've noticed a lot of rappers who've made a rise out here and now don't really have that same type of credibility that they had before. And one thing that we've noticed is just that a lot of rappers in the city are not really coming together to work with each other. And that's one of the big things, that we like to work with people who make music. We're creatives, so it's just anybody who makes music. It could be somebody who's into film, because we do have cinematographers and all types of people inside of Blackshoe, even people who don't make music. Really, the creative aspect of it, and seeing everyone try to turn what they love into a career for them. Also, everyone trying to push forward brand new ideas. No one's trying to just stick to the norm of everything. Like, it'd be so easy for us to just make drill music and try too ride that wave that's going right now, but everybody wanted to make something out of the box and plan something that is bigger than just themselves. I feel like those are the ideals that really stood out to me.
villin: For me, personally, I mentally kept coming back to the concept of scarcity when we talked. It's easy to get trapped in that mentality, that there is a finite level of success to go around and we're all somehow vying for the limited resource. Whether it's fear or greed, that mindset can kill the spirit of collaboration.
Imma: I mean, and especially now when we have streaming, there are rappers who make more money playing video games than they do from their music. There are other rappers who go into fashion and make more money doing that. There's so much space for us all to capitalize on right now that it's just… I feel like the only way to really do it is to come as a group. Because bringing all your fan bases together is really what's going to make this culture pop, you know?
villin: This idea, or the concept of no man being an island, offers a practical benefit, as well.
Imma: Especially 'cause, I mean, I don't know how to produce for nothin'. I don't know how to produce and I don't have a crazy camera, so it's like, if I was really trying to do everything on my own then I would not be able to do it. And, even as a solo artist, I go to another studio and record there, I have my engineer mix my music, I have other people make covers for me. So, I have to really realize when I look at it that there's nobody who's really doing everything in house all on their own. You're always going to need a team of people. And I feel like creating that team of people with other creatives around you locally is definitely one of the best ways to do it.
villin: This was sort of an aside before we got off the phone, but we talked about what it means for musicians to develop a local base of support in a global marketplace. It strikes me as curious when I see creative types reacting negatively to labels such as "local artist," receiving the language as a derogatory term, but I guess it's about the implication of the phrase. Like, for me, when talking about Iowa artists, it doesn't even cross my mind that the label is limiting. But I can see how some view it as a limiting term, implying that you're only of interest to a small territory or audience.
Imma: We're all trying to be global artists. We're not just trying to just stick to our city. I like to say that we're all peers. We're all at the exact same level. Even if somebody out here in Des Moines is a little bit more popular than another artist that's out over here, we're still on the exact same playing field. We're still trying to crack that ceiling. It's easier when we're all throwing a rock at the same window, instead of everybody trying to break in from a different window of that house.
villin: The thing that first really drew me to Imma's music were a series of music videos he'd released, which speaks to a real-life situation of this collaborative spirit paying off. Directed and produced by Juice Box Visuals, the video for "Stressin'" is particularly bold and eye-catching. And his desire to create such impactful visuals is something that I love, having grown up myself during a period of exorbitant music video budgets. Imma went on to address where his desire to add those visual elements to his work came from.
Imma: For me the reason why is I've always just been infatuated with film and TV. I love to see a TV show that has really good acting in it, really good pacing. That's one thing I always pay attention to. I remember watching music videos like "Jesus Walks" or a lot of Ne-Yo's music videos, actually, because Ne-Yo would always do something where it has a little bit of a story first. You don't even hear the song for the first forty-five seconds because they're setting the stage of the story. So just seeing those gave me inspiration to want to make those kinds of art. Because I feel like as a musician, music goes with everything and especially film and TV. If you can make a really good visual to go with a song, sometimes people will come back and watch the video not even for the music. I don't know, I really love acting. For me, I always love to do things that you just really wouldn't see anybody else do.
villin: Imma was born in Eerie, Pennsylvania before moving to Virginia where he spent most of his childhood. His parents are both Sudanese and moved to America in 1999, two years before he was born. This isn't something that he necessarily wears on his sleeve, yet, as an artist, but Imma's heritage is definitely important to him and he spoke of daydreaming about a time when he can bring this into a conscious presentation of himself as a mainstream artist.
Imma: I want to display my heritage as much as I can. Right now, I am just kind of building my career working on getting a little bit more of a spotlight on my career just so that I can speak on these things. I've already planned for my first Grammy. I'm going to be wearing what's called a jalabiya. It's what we wear down in Sudan. But I want to wear those to my award shows, you know what I'm saying? For me, that's something that's always in the back of my head and something that I'm always trying to push forward. And I'm just waiting for the right time to be able to speak on it enough to really get a lot of attention on it.
villin: That background also created a significant sense of being other than or different from in his childhood though.
Imma: I grew up very very differently, you know? I didn't grow up like Black kids in America and I didn't grow up, really like anybody else in America because of my immigrant parents. And I feel like especially with African immigrants it's a little bit overlooked; our differences and the way that we grow up, our differences in our culture and how we carry ourselves. And I want to bring a little more attention to that. That's why I feel like in my music I'm never really trying to just sound like everybody else because I also grew up not the richest and not in the best situation, but there were other factors of my life that made my life the way that it was, and make me who I am. So I just want to talk about the parts of an immigrant child's life that people don't really think about or know about.
villin: It's probably cliched to say that Imma's coming into his own as a creative and a person, but I get that sense. I mean, the change in approach of using the word "bitch" is a small pivot, but it's something I see as a rejection of prevailing cultural influences. The same kind of influences that historically left him feeling other than based on his race and heritage.
Imma: So definitely growing up it [felt] much different, especially when I compare it to my life now. When I'm around Black people there's never a problem, they see me as exactly the same. But growing up there was always that divide where it was just kind of like… it was almost like I wasn't allowed to be seen as Black. Black kids didn't accept African kids in their groups growing up as easily as they accepted other Black kids. We were just seen as almost the minority of the minorities. I know that's not really talked about a lot, but it did make me feel almost… I don't know what's the right word to say. It made it harder for me to almost accept my race, because I look Black just like everybody else, but I was still being treated differently by the people that look exactly like me. So it definitely brought a different dynamic to just being Black. Because I never felt like I was just Black.
For me, growing up, it definitely made it harder for me to accept my actions. I was always hyper-aware of if I was acting Black enough or if I was acting too Black. Because going home I can't talk like the African Americans at my school or I can't talk like the way that I did at school because my parents would say that I was acting too Black. And then if I was at school I wasn't able to act how I always do at home because it wasn't seen as Black. Some people would say that it was acting white or just say it was weird, you know what I mean? It took a little bit of a toll, for sure, in learning to be okay with just being African and trying to repel the self-hate that was almost put on to me.
villin: That's a crazy spot to be in, with that feeling of self-rejection, but as he continued to explain what it was like growing up, we got into how music played a role along the way. Even there there's this divide of being somewhere in the middle of two distinct cultures having to find his own way forward, but it makes a lot of sense with relation to the sound that comes through on GOOD.
Imma: So for me, my mom was very into R&B. She loved Usher. Like, Usher was her favorite artist; Michael Jackson also. But she didn't listen too much to American music. We were listening a lot to African music growing up. And, I mean, even in my later years she'd still be playing African music throughout the house or watching shows on the TV that are broadcasted in the Middle East. And I've kind of had to find my own way through music, I feel like. Although I was put onto R&B early, I had to venture into rap music on my own and find out what I like and find out what was really the style that I could associate with.
villin: Imma started making music when he was 16 and released his first full-length album over two years ago. That said, it's like he's just now finding a different semblance of foundation that's providing him stability and confidence with his music. Without dancing around the subject, we talked about what it's like finding a crew of likeminded people and how that influences this sort of feeling… particularly after a lifetime of feeling like an outsider.
Imma: I can't even tell you. There are times when I'll be driving to [DRXCULV]'s crib and we're all just going over there to work on some music, you know, hang out and stuff, just talk about music, and it's like… I gotta just tell myself all the time, like, I'm already living the life that I wanted. I'm already living the life that I was dreaming about a year and a half ago. I'm performing now. I'm working with other artists, you know, my music is on Apple Music. I always make sure I hold onto these type of feelings. I remember the times where I wasn't on Apple Music and I remember the times where I was praying to perform or wanting to work with other people who weren't so willing to work with me back in the day. Definitely just finding my group of people is such a gratifying feeling.
Annie Kemble is a Des Moines-based singer, songwriter and musician who just released her seven track debut titled Dive Bar. In our discussion we talked about a sort of dual nature inherent in the release, as it's simultaneously autobiographical while bearing aspects of a performative persona. Annie also discussed her collaborations with members of the Des Moines hip-hop scene and how she's already focused on her next project: A full-length album which she says will be a much more personal affair.
villin: The song introducing this episode of the villin podcast is called "Cherries" from Annie Kemble. I don't know what first led me to "Dive Bar," but I'm glad found it. The song, and the release by the same name, is fantastic, bringing with it an ability to create a set of visuals in the mind that accompany a blend of jazz and pop among so many other influences. Albeit her debut solo release, "Dive Bar" wasn't the first time that I'd heard Annie though; that came over the past several months where I was exposed a variety of collaborations released with B.Well.
Annie Kemble: I actually met B.Well through—when I first moved to Des Moines I was working with a group called the MFK Trio, who I then played with for years after that. But when I first started working with them, the keyboard player in that band, Fred [Gaddy], knew B.Well, and B.Well was looking for a group to book at Wooley's for this jazz brunch. And so B.Well hit us up and that was the first time I met him, and then from there he asked me to feature on one of his songs and that's how I met Anthony (AMMixes). I did a couple songs with B.Well and I recorded my first single, when I released "Before You" separately, I recorded that with Anthony. I love the Des Moines hip-hop scene. A lot of those artists have kind of taken me in even though I'm not a hip-hop artist, obviously. But B.Well has given me a lot of opportunities and chances to perform and make music with him.
villin: Therein resides one of the interesting elements to Annie's music: it's ability to rest slightly outside the reaches of easily definable genre labels. Speaking with Ryan O'Rien this past fall, Annie made comment of a Linda Ronstadt documentary she'd seen and I think there's an argument to be made for a comparison between the two, stylistically. In her own words though, Annie connects her sound to a variety of different genre types that she feels describe the style she's aiming for.
Annie Kemble: I have recently been describing it as pop-jazz, or like soul. I feel like soul encapsulates it. I would hope that you can feel soul throughout the whole thing. That's kind of what I want. But, yeah, it's hard to pin down. I feel like I can tend to write more bluesy or even folk, like folk-country sometimes, some of the stuff I've written. I think I was a little scared of the "pop" genre and what that means, but I think that just kind of… like, I write songs in [a] pop style, of like, the way there's a verse, a chorus, a verse, a chorus, like in the way that I'm trying to make them catchy. So, I think that kind of makes sense. But I think there's obviously a big jazz influence.
villin: There's a quote on Annie's website which says "Annie uses her training in voice, piano, drums, and arranging along with her exceptional songwriting to tell stories and evoke feelings as universal as they are specific." "Training" is such an interesting word to think about when considering the arts, but that doesn't make it any less common or applicable. In Annie's case, she spent time at Southwestern Community College's professional music program—where she was, at one point, honored with a "Vocal Jazz Soloist" award—to receive part of that training.
Annie Kemble: I started going to school there—I didn't know how to read music. I sang my whole life but I never really played piano and any instruments or anything. And then when I started going there, it's a vocational school so you do everything. I was taking bass lessons, drum lessons, everything, I took studio recording lessons, all kinds of crazy shit. That was definitely where I got my training. They didn't teach much about songwriting there but I did learn a lot about arrangement and I feel like I try to implement that into my stuff. Yeah, that was definitely where I got my training, was from there.
villin: Listening to Dive Bar brings about an interesting sense for its place in Annie's timeline. On one hand, it's a product of this broader musical track she's been on, while on another it's a very personal creation focused on a narrow window of time. One of the aspects of that side of things comes with the inclusion of a close friend, Deborah Huysman, who guides Dive Bar by narrating its journey.
Annie Kemble: So, she's one of my closest friends. We work at the same daycare together. And she's a 70 year old woman who is the most absolutely hilarious person in the world, and she's very special to me. And I also love her speaking voice, and I knew that I wanted—when my friend Jazz and I were writing the interludes—I just knew that I wanted an older person's voice. And I knew I wanted her right away. She kind of gave me a hard time about it and I didn't think it was going to happen a few times before recording, but finally she said yes and we got it done. Yeah, she's awesome. I love her.
villin: I feel like this speaks to a sort of conceptual tightrope that Annie's walking with her music on this release, balancing between two sides of the self; the personal and the performer.
Annie Kemble: When I was recording the songs I think I was a little bit—I really like when albums tell a story and when it seems cohesive and I was a little bit concerned about the cohesiveness of the album because all the songs are so different and because my songwriting style can be so different. And sometimes I'm writing about personal things and sometimes I'm just making up random shit. I was talking to my friend about that and how I want—I always wanted to have an interlude because I like when there's a little space between some of the songs and it's not just song-song-song-song happening. And I was talking to her about it and we decided to write something about a storyteller and sort of introducing me. That was the objective, was: this is my first project and I feel like it's really important to know the artist and get a little glimpse until like what they have going on. So that was kind of like our way to sneak that in was to say that I'm a storyteller and that baseline, all the songs are about just how they're about stories, if that makes sense.
villin: It's more of a balancing act than a contrast between the personal and persona, from how I see it, and one that is readily on display throughout Annie's music videos as much as the tracks themselves. Prior to speaking with Annie this stuck out to me, straddling those two sides, simultaneously presenting very personal and personable music at times while crafting this character of Annie at others. To me that's what Deborah's introduction does, it reconciles these multiple aspects of Annie which are present, the self and the character she's presenting as the singer.
Annie Kemble: I think the "Cherries" music video... and "Cherries" is all very sort of like this character like you're describing, like I am on the cover, like I present when I'm performing. Sort of like a songstress, and that's—I don't know, just the jazz kind of vibe. But I think what I wanted to do with the "Movie" music video was make it a little goofier because I am a very unserious person. And I feel like that doesn't always come across when I'm singing on stage being serious about it. I don't know, I think I have two pretty different sides of myself—maybe I have three because a lot of my music is like emotional. A lot of my unreleased stuff is really personal. I think this album was like my least personal album that I'll probably put out, 'cause the stuff I'm working on next is very much more about my life and it's a little harder to release. I think it's fun to not really know what you're going to get, and so I think that's kind of where I'm at with it because I feel like I'm so many different things at one time so it's fun to be able to be all [these] different things, you know?
villin: Her song "Before You" is a great example of this falling back into a second, or maybe third side of herself, as she referred to it, as it pulls from personal experience in reflecting on the difficulties of growing by way of troubled relationships. This isn't to say that each side is equally as comfortable, however, as the more personal her songs are the harder it is they are to release into the wild.
Annie Kemble: I think it becomes a little easier to release the more intense emotional stuff if it's like sprinkled with those little songs that I'm making up that are not true, you know? Yeah, it is, 'cause otherwise—oh, God, all my music would be so depressing, oh, all of it. You'd be crying the whole time.
villin: It wasn't until watching the music video for "Before You" that I connected with the song's lyrics, which to me speak to a different idea than I think they were intended to. There's a line in the song where Annie sings, "Wish I could say it was all your fault / Yeah, you made the trap, but I'm the one that got caught." For me, this lyric has an element of self-sabotage, and nudges my own personal history riddled with countless moments where I failed to protect myself from situations that I knew weren't good for me. From her perspective though, Annie takes a little different angle on the line and how she relates it to her songwriting journey.
Annie Kemble: I wrote that song after a very tumultuous situationship. It was never a relationship, but it was constantly on and off. I think I like knew that this person that I was seeing was not necessarily good for me, or good at communicating, or honest with me. But I continued to put myself back in that situation because I liked him a lot. I have a hard time writing songs—angry songs about people because I try to not hold on to that type of anger or blame. But I just felt in that moment when I wrote that song I was just so angry and I let myself be mad a little bit. I think is this song comes off more sad than how I wrote it, when I was actually pretty angry. But saying that you miss who you were before you met someone is kind of a lot and so I hung on to that one for a while, too. But I knew that I had to release that song first just because it is intimate and I wanted the first music video to be intimate in the same way. And that music video was inspired by an Alanis Morissette video for "Head Over Feet," where she's just sitting there and it's like really intimate and I love that.
villin: Beyond Alanis, Janelle Monáe's "Cold War" music video presents itself as something visually similar, where it creates a visual vacuum, isolating the individual and amplifying the expression of self that comes through the song's lyrics. This is captured in Annie's video, as well. Elsewhere in our discussion Annie made reference to a musical similarity between a track of hers and Chris Isaak's "Wicked Game," which itself also has a wildly provocative music video, and elsewhere throughout the release there are a wide variety of other musical influences which Annie calls upon.
Annie Kemble: I get a lot of inspiration from—I love Sade's instrumentation and her music, I love the bossa nova feel. That's kind of where "Cherries" came from. My biggest inspirations are Adele and Amy Winehouse, for sure, vocally. I think I write... I pull inspiration in my writing from Lana Del Rey. I'm a big fan of hers, as well. I also love Alanis Morissette and I also love Fiona Apple. A lot of female singer-songwriters. Yeah, I don't know, I think every song, when we sat down, it was like "okay, this song has a very different vibe from the rest. What do we want to sound like, what are the inspirations?" I think "Movie" was inspired a lot by Anderson .Paak and Bruno Mars, like the Silk Sonic kind of sound. That sort of '70s sleaze kind of music, you know? I don't know what "Dive Bar" is, I think it's kind of a... I think that song is the most "me," the most my style, and "Cherries," too. I don't know. I pull inspiration from so many places that it I think that's why it's kind of all over the place genre-wise. My older stuff I was definitely—I mean, in that song "Lavender" I reference a Lauryn Hill line. I love Lauryn Hill and a lot of like R&B singers. And when I was playing with the group that I was with, we were playing a lot more R&B style music, a lot of Jill Scott, stuff like that.
villin: "Before You" also has an element of reconciling a younger self with the present, which the video speaks to by including footage of Annie as a child.
Annie Kemble: I think that song—it was written about a relationship, but I think that it could also go, it could have multiple meanings. And I think that song also means, to me, you know, people that I grew up with and people I grew up around that we're not kind to me... and so showcasing my younger self in that way is like a little tribute to that. Because I love when songs have multiple meanings. I think you can miss who you were before a lot of people. Yeah, it was just a little tribute to my younger self in that way.
villin: Miles away from "Before You" is "Movie," which also bears a contrasting video showcasing an entirely different side of Annie's personality. It's silly and sexy, it doesn't take itself too seriously, and it creates a story of a character, as opposed to drawing upon individual experience in painting a very personal picture of her feelings. Given how all these different sides of her are captured visually throughout these videos, I was curious if there was one that stood out as a personal favorite.
Annie Kemble: I do really like the "Movie" music video because it was so fun to make. But I don't know; "Cherries" kind of has a special spot for me, too, because it was kind of my first time being more like artistic with it. It was really fun to figure out like what the style was and to find other like older clips that fit in with the theme. So, I don't know. I really enjoy making videos and I think it's important to have visuals that go along with stuff. So, I don't know what my favorite would be I think they all have like a special spot, you know?
villin: Annie referred to last year's Pam & Tommy miniseries when drawing upon influences for the song, adding that the video's aim was something of a Las Vegas wedding vibe. But again, there was a line being straddled, using her creativity in putting this idea out there while also recognizing potential downsides of utilizing a character that might reflect negatively, or at least in an awkward way, upon the person she is in her day-to-day life.
Annie Kemble: That was so fun. I loved—I don't know, the song is like very not serious. I thought... I don't know, it's easy to go like super raunchy with that song and I didn't want to go like all that way, 'cause this song itself is inappropriate and I work at a daycare still so it's kind of like a weird balance for me to I don't know, not be doing too much, you know?
villin: Aside from the concepts behind the album stand a musically robust release. Annie not only sings on Dive Bar, but adds piano on its title track.
Annie Kemble: So, I played keys on "Dive Bar" and then I originally, like, the first version of "Before You" I played keys on, and then I think I think Erik [Jarvis], the producer, ended up playing keys on "Before You" in the studio, 'cause I was singing at the same time. I think that's all I played keys on in this album. We didn't have a super key-heavy album, which is funny because I wrote all of them on piano. But, there's a couple songs that called for organ, and so Bryan [Vanderpool]—I think, actually, Erik—played on those, too. So, yeah, I only played on "Dive Bar" technically. But that one, I wanted to play keys on at least one song, to kind of showcase how I write. I don't know, I love stripped back versions of things, and I think it's a lot more intimate that way. So I wanted to like start out the album in a really intimate way.
villin: The release also features a wide array of guest players, which inspired some curiosity about whether there was much of a collaborative process behind the tracks on Dive Bar.
Annie Kemble: I think I wrote a majority of them, I think—I don't know, I think they're kind of all over the place. I wrote the last song, "Black & Blue/Blood & Sea," I wrote that probably two or three years ago. But I wrote "Dive Bar" one and a half years ago, maybe. I wrote that song when I was playing with a group that I was with. Yeah, we ended up calling ourself, it was MFKAS, was the rest of our initials, so we were the mother fuckers for a while. Yeah, and I wrote that song, kind of, it was on the end of working with them. I think I quit that band shortly after that. I was like so burnt out and there was several issues within like members of the band, but it's all worked out now, and we're all good, but it was rough there for a minute.
villin: In terms of the songwriting and arrangement on the album, what developed was a little bit more of a collaborative vibe as the recording progressed, but the release still primarily revolved around a direction and tone set by the singer.
Annie Kemble: With this album I wrote all of it myself. And all the stuff I've done in the past, I've just written alone. There's a collaborative element on "Before You," when we recorded that song for the album because the producer I worked with, Erik, wanted to re-record that song for the album and I didn't really want to at first. It was just going to be four songs, or whatever, and then it would have definitely been [an] E.P. that way. But I, I don't know, he kind of convinced me to give it a new life, which I'm really glad that we did. We kind of work together on that one and he gave me some ideas about changing up some of the arrangement of that song. And, I don't know, we took some stuff out and made it a little shorter. But other than that, yeah, I pretty much just wrote it all myself and brought it to other people.
villin: At times in the album, the presentation and production sounds so big. A large part of that, if we're talking a track like "Movie," is the strings, added by String Theory Strings, which came as a part of multiple people working together to construct the sound. In my mind, this track in particular opens as if slowly revealing a singer and band on stage. A turntable in the floor revolves as the strings fade in. There's feathers. It's not quite New Jersey, not quite Las Vegas. Something like that. This sort of imagery is, it seems, sort of what was in mind when crafting the production.
Annie Kemble: Erik is the one who, he did the string stuff, he arranged the string stuff, I did not do that, for that the interludes. But we had several like back and forths of trying to figure out what the vibe was. And I wanted it to be a creep-in kind of thing, of like: there is a band—surprise. So, I love that that's what you saw in your head, that was exactly what it was going for.
villin: Despite only being 24, Annie has several tracks on her Soundcloud page that reflect a period she's well removed from artistically. These came as a product of her time at Southwestern, revealing a blueprint for what was yet to come with Dive Bar.
Annie Kemble: Oh, my gosh. Well, two of those songs I record[ed], I mean all of those songs I recorded when I was in college. And I recorded them in the recording studio that they had there. And two of them, "Lavender" and "Willow Tree," were both like finals for a class that I was in. And then the other song, "Hallways," just like a personal [inaudible]. I really like that song. I'd like to re-record it at some point. But, I think those were kind of, those were definitely my first step into putting my writing out there in, kind of, a small way. I think "Willow Tree"'s on Spotify now, too. But I've always been so insecure about my writing style and just, you know, unsure about it and I always kept it to myself. And I think in college it was hard because there was a lot—I mean that's their whole thing, is that they're critiquing you to make you better. And I think I took that at the time as, like it kind of defeated me a little bit. And so I didn't write, I mean, for a while after I released those songs. And then I was playing with that band where we were doing all cover songs for years. And I would every now and then bring a song to that group and we'd play it. But, I don't know, I think I just had a moment where I was like, if I really want to make it as an artist I have to be original and I can't just sing other people's songs for the rest of my life. I'm not going to get anywhere. And I think it was just hand in hand with my like self-growth, and my like self-discovery of, like, oh, I do have something to say, and maybe people will like it. And even if they don't, it's enough just for me.
villin: And that is so interesting to hear, again falling back to this dual co-existence, this time a balance between confidence and insecurity. You can see the confidence in Annie's presentation in her music videos, and hear it throughout Dive Bar, but to know that underneath there is something else going on adds another layer to the onion. And if using the onion analogy, the layers of persona associated with her music and performance surround a more vulnerable core, or maybe something of a bulb in the center, found deep beneath multiple outside layers.
Annie Kemble: I think the insecure voice used to be a lot louder. I think it's getting quieter more and more. But I do definitely have like those thoughts of, you know, what is the point of this. you know. why am I doing this type of thoughts, and things like that. But I don't know, I think after the release of "Dive Bar," I just got such a good response and so many people were so supportive that I think, just going into my next thing is why I feel so ready to start being more personal in my music. Yeah, I think that the Annie persona is something that helps me be actually confident. Like, I don't know if I'm pretending when I'm being that way, do you know what I mean? It's just, like, it's a way to step into that. I think all the time about like Marilyn Monroe and the greatest, you know, the most beautiful women that come off as extremely confident. There's an interview that Marilyn did where she was walking with this journalist and then being you know her normal self and then she was, like, do you want to watch me become her? And then just stepped into her Marilyn persona and totally transformed herself. And I think about that all the time, where it's like, I don't know, if I can kind of believe it somehow, it's just—I don't know how to explain it, it's just like, it just feels good to [be] like, you're kind of pretending, but then it makes it real at the same time, do you know what I mean?
villin: I look at this as a skill, to be able to make a transition like that, and move freely between these different sides. In Annie's case, it's not a trait associated specifically with music though, but one that's been honed over a lifetime of performing in front of others.
Annie Kemble: I grew up in dance and I was always—I danced since I was four through, all the way through high school. So, I think that is a big reason that I kind of have that persona. Where, it's like, okay, I'm on stage and I know how to be on stage and I can, you know, be whatever character I want, which is pretty fun.
villin: That playfulness, and the guessing game of not always knowing whose voice it is we're hearing, or which side is coming out, adds depth and value to the listening experience. Looking at it with a better understanding of how Annie approaches her music though, it's interesting to hear about how this split persona developed, and what it provides for her outside of her music.
Annie Kemble: You know, I honestly, I think I'm more insecure about the person that I am every day than the person that I am on stage. I think when I'm on stage and when I'm performing and writing songs that are in this character, I think that feels more of me than I feel when I'm going to my daycare job, you know what I mean?
I've worked there for almost three years now, kind of on and off. I quit at one point last year and I was serving full time at a restaurant. The daycare that I work at I love; I love kids and it's like a big part of, kind of, I think my purpose, is to be like a nurturer. And I just love kids and I love their imagination. And I think that is, like, I am still a kid in my head a little bit, you know? 'Cause I use my imagination so much when I'm writing, too. But one of my friends from high school works at this daycare and I kind of just like stumbled upon it because of her. And that's where I met Debbie, who did the interludes, and I don't know, it's kind of—it's nice 'cause, I don't know. It's not a lot of.... like, Des Moines people that are in the scene, no one there like really knows me that well. They do know me, they do know I do music, but it's not—I kind of have a different persona there, you know?
I think that it's harder to have a conversation with one person than with a whole audience. I've always been that way. I think it's just easier for me to seem like larger than life in front of people—it's less intimate. And I think that just stems from intimacy issues in general. But yeah, I don't know, it's just, I just love being on stage and I think I think it's so fun and I think it's so freeing. And especially when I think about how a lot of people have a hard time being on stage and it's just something that comes naturally to me. It just makes me feel so like secure with myself, somehow. I don't know... interesting.
villin: Surely, as she continues to perform and release more music, those lines are probably going to get more blurry—and from a creation standpoint, I'm curious to see how her music reflects this change as more and more people within her orbit come to know her more as Annie the performer rather than the person who works at a daycare. Annie told me that her next release will come with a full-length album that she'd like to put out later this year, and how that album will reflect more of the core self and less of the persona. With it, I'm interested in seeing if and how those two sides meet, and what they sound and look like once they do. Until that time comes though, Annie will continue performing in support of Dive Bar, which includes a Gross Domestic Product afterparty set that's on the books for this April. And to wrap up our conversation, I asked what she hopes listeners might take away from the music from this stage in her journey.
Annie Kemble: I hope that people can hear little parts of who I am, I guess. I hope that they can hear that you could be anything that you want. I think that's what I'm telling myself throughout these songs, is I'm all these different things and I can be all of them simultaneously. And a lot of the songs, especially "Cherries," that song just makes me feel so good about myself. And "Movie," too, you know. It's like, I love when songs make me feel indestructible and I kind of hope that... I don't know. But also elements of "Dive Bar," you know, I think it's so... a lot of people feel alone often and I think that that song is kind of just about loneliness and about being a larger than life person on stage and then feeling so lonely when you leave. And I hope people can just relate to that and to like the different elements of the songs, and I don't know. It's kind of a ride but I just hope that people feel something at all. That's [really] what I want when I'm singing.
