Nickk feat. Big Teo the Trap Man “Ghosts and Spirits” (Singled Out)

Nickk is a Cedar Rapids-based MC whose recently released full-length album, Closed Hands, explores themes of mental health and addiction. The album title itself represents the concept of self-sabotage, which is a theme that bleeds into one of the album's standouts (and its lone feature), "Ghosts and Spirits." For the track, Nickk teamed up with Big Teo the Trap Man, of Trap Garage Mafia, whose own verse takes a similar approach thematically, focused around his own experiences in that realm. In this Q&A we discuss those themes and how they play into the broader picture of the album.

villin: You wrote Closed Hands with a specific aim in mind geared toward a focus on mental health, with the name itself acting as a reference to self-sabotage. How does "Ghosts and Spirits" relate to the album's overarching themes?

Nickk: The track "Ghosts and Spirits" is one of the biggest pieces of the project. The track dives deep into one of the biggest struggles I see around me. There's a lot of people who refer to this "little voice" in their head stemming from such things as insecurity, anxiety, and depression. People end up so in their head about the things they might hate or all of the negatives instead of the positives. I'd describe the song as a representation of my own journey through that struggle. The feature on the track was actually not the original track I had made. When I played the track for Teo, he just had this look on his face I cant forget. He instantly had something for the track, the verse was very dark diving into the perspective of drug corruption and the life that Teo was living at the time.

villin: The song's lyrics reference topics of violence and drug use, which both have obvious detrimental influences on mental health. How do you balance your own safety and health with any influences urging you toward these areas, and what were you trying to say with this song?

Nickk: Balancing your health is very important and isn't always the easiest. I myself still haven't figured that balance out 100% and the drug use does get to be a lot. It feels like a never ending cycle that I'm currently trying to conquer. Some of the influences on this are the crowd I was around that got me into a lot of the things I do. Without those experiences and the things I did I wouldn't be in the same place today. It was turning for me to be able to say I can do this and become better. The message behind the song is to do what you want in this lifetime. Don't stop yourself from becoming who you truly are. Addiction will be all around you in your life, don't get sucked into it.

villin: Closed Hands isn't a heavily collaborative album, and I'm wondering if you had Big Teo the Trap Man in mind when "Ghosts and Spirits" first started to come together? What made him a good fit for the song?

Nickk: Yea, so, to go a little deeper on the matter, "Ghosts and Spirits" was the sixth track I had made for the project. There is an alternative version with the second verse somewhere on my computer that will probably never be shown to anybody. The album Closed Hands was a very therapeutic album for me with the intent to really connect with the people. A chance to be vulnerable for my fans and to guide them to a better mentality and help them discover themselves deeper. Teo was a good fit for the song because we grew up with similar lifestyles to each other. We both have sat down and really gotten deep about the journeys our lives took, and the way we lived before we met; [it's] the reason we connected on the song like this. It's almost like we had a message for each other on our verses.

villin: What was your first impression of the song, and when thinking about how you could add to it what did you hope to bring to "Ghosts and Spirits"?

Big Teo the Trap Man: My first impression was this beat would really be good to speak about life on with a hook. I shot for talking about how it feels to be stuck in your head and also how it feels to deal with addiction, which is a close home subject to me

villin: Where'd the beat come from and how does its sound help communicate the song's themes?

Nickk: The beat came from a producer by the name of Docent. Docent was one of the first producers I really connected with. We've collectively done about eight tracks together now and it's always great to work with him. Docent makes a lot of darker beats like "Ghosts and Spirits," but has some softer production on the album, as well. The dark kind of horror-like concept really shows how scary the human mind can become. As for any more work with Docent, there will be plenty work. "Ghosts and Spirits" is the first official collab from me and Teo, but we will feed the souls soon... 

For more from Nickk, you can follow his work online via Instagram or TikTok, and you can listen to more from Closed Hands via Apple Music, Spotify, or YouTube.

Brian Campos Interview

Over the course four years, or so, Brian Campos established his voice within the Des Moines music community; not strictly through his own music, but largely through his work as a podcast host. Then, with well over one hundred episodes of his Pants OFF! Podcast behind him, he pivoted slightly to work with Bo Becker on a series called upstairs IOWA, transplanting his skills into the realm of video. Along the way, he was honored by the Des Moines Music Coalition, in large part for providing a platform for local artists to "share their stories of both success and struggle"... and then he moved on. Now, despite having long-since quietly put that work to bed, Brian was willing to discuss his experience, and speak to what he's taking away from the entire journey, a few years removed from it all.

villin: One of the reasons I wanted to reach out aligns with broader questions of creative intention and purpose that have been on my mind, with projects like what you did with the Pants OFF! Podcast or what I'm working on here. You started as a way to reconnect with a scene that was important to you, but over the course of 120-some episodes, there's no doubt that the ideas of intention and purpose changed. What led you to stop releasing new episodes and do you still have a desire to remain connected to the scene, or music community, as you did when you first began the series?

Brian Campos: First off, thanks for asking me to do this, although I was admittedly hesitant to do so. I have turned down things like this in the past because I feel as though I'm not contributing to "the scene" like others who are active and engaged to elevate it. Wouldn't want to steal that time or spotlight. Also, I'm quite boring these days. Yet, here I am in true hippocratic fashion! villin is doing some cool stuff, so good on you.

I did 124 episodes, with some various live things sprinkled in there. I think from the beginning I had ambitions to not only cover/interview local musicians, but national touring artists as well. I was kinda surprised how seamless that all happened. I stopped because I had a job change in late-2017 and my new job didn't give me much time, as I was working almost 80 hours a week (I bartend on Saturdays). Prior to all of that happening I was starting to burn out, to be honest. I was going hard from 2014 up to completely stopping in late-2018. I did all the editing, recording, PR, flyer-ing, social media, you name it. I did of course, have help along the way.

Phil Young helped me out a ton as far as figuring out my recording setups. Shout out to Phil! But, yeah, burnout and couldn't figure out how to pivot the format or trajectory of the show as I felt it was getting stale. I generally became disinterested and it started feeling more like a job. I did give an honest effort in 2018 to try and keep going but sitting in my room editing for hours on end is not something I have any interest in doing again. All that, as well as existential crises about my own perceptions about the show I'll get into in a bit (lol). As far as remaining connected, I'm a lurker. Always have been. I was involved in the early 2000's. Stopped. Drank myself stupid. Got sober. Came back. Left. Back to lurking. As far as still wanting to be connected, I have a career and family now so that is my priority.

villin: At some point you pivoted to working with Bo Becker on upstairs IOWA. Did that project provide something for you, creatively, that the podcast didn't, and are there any fond memories from putting it together that stand out to you now?

Brian Campos: Love me some Bo Becker. Great dude. Very creative and talented. upstairs IOWA was mostly all him and his production company Transpiritus. I was just happy to be there. I had so much fun doing it because it felt like leveling up in some ways to what I had been doing. But it also was very different, as I had to narrow down my questions to the very best, and not much room to get deep into the weeds of conversation which fosters the good responses.Gotta get to the point quick. Also, things are way different on camera rather than just two people and two mics in a room alone. So that was challenging and fun.

I had initially just hired Bo to shoot a live show we did at the Mews and we realized we had similar drives as to what we wanted to accomplish. He gave me lots of wiggle room but I was very open to his direction. We worked very well together. My job change hampered that and he went on to be a famous rockstar or something. Just kidding. He has his projects in Glass Ox and Modern Life is War, so we both kinda went in two directions and it just sorta ended. No fanfare. Just like the podcast.

When people make a big deal of ending a project, that shit is bunk. My good buddy Jay Lenihan (ex-Hunger Pains) always used to remind me when I was younger, "the most important point is; nobody cares." He was being flippant, but it was also profound. Does anything we do truly matter? This is the shit that runs through my head, but also reminds me not to take things or myself too seriously. I should add, if Bo were to have kept going or restart it with someone new, I would totally support that.

villin: You're no stranger to making music, yourself, and in discussion about your own musical beginnings the horrorcore genre came up, along with mention of opening for the likes of Tech N9ne along the way. I'm wondering how you view those experiences at this stage in life?

Brian Campos: While it is definitely not something I flaunt today, I'm not embarrassed about it, either. It's how I cut my teeth in the scene. We were just kids who saw bands like ICP and Twiztid and thought we could do it better, and in Des Moines, sans makeup. We (Unidentified Suspects) were playing with metal and punk bands at Hairy Mary's, while not even legally able to drink yet. We stood out, had some opportunities, but infighting and a lack of fresh ideas led to its end. But, those experiences very much shaped me and it was a lot of fun when it was fun.

Never did a proper tour, which was a goal I wanted to achieve with it. One of us bought a van for $1000 to tour in, but it blew up on the way to Chicago for a show and that was the end of our tour dreams. I performed for the last time in early 2018. Microwave Death (Mike Cooper), my very bestest buddy, 2nd grade classmate, and ex-Suspects bandmate, opened for horrorcore godfather Esham at Lefty's. We dusted off some old songs which was very fun but not planning to ever do it again. Getting too old, I guess.

villin: It might have been the 100th episode, where Elliot Imes interviewed you, but I believe there was mention of how your father was an avid music fan and guitar player, but abruptly gave it up at one point. Now a father yourself, I'm wondering how you've managed to juggle family and creativity, and if the experience of parenthood has helped recontextualize his own relationship with music?

Brian Campos: Oh shit, here we go. I saw my dad do that and was like, "Not me, maaan. Never giving up on it." Yet, here I am in the same boat. But, now I see sort of what his point of view might have been: Family first. He once traded a gorgeous red hollow body for our first Nintendo. He passed away in 2011, so unfortunately I won't be able to get a full perspective on it. But my Dad found new passions later in life like coaching youth football.

In 2019, I quit working 80 hours a week and decided to go back and finish school. I went into radiology. There is a sense of creativity when creating x-ray images, but at the end of the day it is still a job. Plus, I am in interventional radiology (IR) so the focus isn't so much of shooting images for diagnostic purposes as I am more a surgical assistant in procedures that require working around x-rays. All very rad (pun intended). As of right now, I don't have much outlet for creativity and haven't had time with school and still working part time the past four years.

My son came (seemingly out of the blue) in February of 2023, so his abrupt arrival (he spent three months in NICU), along with taking my license boards, starting a new career, and for good measure buying a house — time for being creative just hasn't been a priority. I do have a space I can call my own for activities in my new place ,so who knows? I still have education goals I want to achieve, so we'll see. I still listen to music every day. I try to find new stuff, but it gets harder for me. Possibly another reason I stopped podcasting because I look at who rolls through town nowadays and I couldn't name a majority of them. I'm aging out I think, so I have been going back, revisiting older stuff I may have been ignorant to when I was younger like Misfits or Bad Religion — who I just saw with Elliot, coincidentally, in November in Omaha. So good. I've also been on a Brutal Death Metal kick lately. Bands like Devourment and Dying Fetus have piqued my interest. The more extreme and chaotic, the better. That is, in my humble opinion, of course. 

villin: As I continued listening, I found a few parallels between us that I appreciate: Besides being close to the same age, 311 was something of a musical gateway drug for us both when we were kids; I also gave up drinking in my adult years; and we're both fans of professional wrestling. I'm originally from Calgary, so for much of my life, my fandom has gravitated toward the likes of Bret and Owen Hart, but one thing you also mentioned in that 100th episode was how Colt Cabana and his podcast influenced you to start your own. This is a long-winded path to an actual question, but it was also interesting hearing the shift between the introduction segments on the podcasts, which amplified your personality in a performative manner (sounding as though they could have been influenced by something like pro-wrestling), and your interviews, where you were far more casual and jovial. I'm wondering if there was ever any difficulty in reconciling the podcasting persona with who you were privately?

Brian Campos: 311 has always been my jam, besides that one stinker record. Saw them last fall at Hoyt Sherman after some time, having skipped their last several Iowa shows. They still fuckin' rip. Pro-wrestling, much like my horrorcore roots, is not something I bring up around the water-cooler, but I will gladly extrapolate the effectiveness of subtle variations of the DDT and argue a Russian leg sweep being a modified front faced DDT, but nobody wants to hear that (lol). Bret Hart was, is, always will be my favorite (and the best there is). Met him in Vegas in 2019. I showed him my Bret tattoo and he was characteristically unimpressed. Too funny.

I think who I was on the show is who I am in private although maybe more irreverent and pessimistic (lol). As far as finding "my voice" in the show, the intro segments were meant to stir some kind of excitement. I still think it's lame if the host isn't at least excited about his guest. But I don't know? Maybe I was jazzing it up too hard. As the show went on, I was constantly calling into question my own motives and intentions. Maybe I need to be more natural and less showy with intros. What was I trying to accomplish? What was I trying to accomplish basically holding up others' accomplishments? Was this all about me?

I occasionally had guests on to further networking and/or present good optics. Near the end I stopped doing that. I never did T-shirts or merch because monetizing it felt dirty. Instead, I donated all the mixtape money I made to the food bank and matched it. Not so much that I am such a great person, but that I didn't want to compromise my own values.The way I approached the podcast was how I approached a band, trying to be as organic as possible. I took business classes in hopes to gain better marketing strategies and sat in on workshops on how to improve audience reach and understanding analytics. This all makes total sense for someone trying to grow a "brand." The juxtaposition inside me was that it felt so in conflict with being organic or pure.

To me, employing business and marketing tactics to art tarnishes it. The idea of brand building, networking, optics, market reach, etc. made my stomach start to turn. The more of the conversations I had with non-band people about marketing concepts and what I "should be doing to increase the podcast name" really started turning me off to everything about what I had done. Mystery Science Theatre 3000 creator Joel Hodgson once told network executives grilling him about who MST3K was supposed to appeal to, "The right people will find it." You can't force art or entertainment although, I attempted to at one point. Not proud of that. Either it takes off, or not. Given everything going on in my head as well as my turbulent work life at that time, I needed to stop and regroup. If I never went back to doing it, I was happy with what I had done up to that point. 

villin: In the years you were most active in that world, you supported a showcase at Maximum Ames featuring Traffic Death, Druids, Courtney Krause and Tha Füt, and were honored as "fan of the year" by the DMMC. Of all the opportunities and situations that arose out of the podcast, which surprised or excited you the most?

Brian Campos: Anytime the podcast was recognized or written about it was cool. I remember a  journalist friend of mine trying to get write up for me at the Register but was told by the editor it wasn't "sexy enough." So instead they ran a story about some east village store that had a couple pairs of shoes and a small rack of clothes literally called Sex and it closed six months after it opened. Hilarious. Fuck them.

Anytime I scored an interview with a national touring artist based on my own credentials was awesome. When I would do the interview and it came off good in a green room or bus, I was almost high when I was done. The most listened to episode was the Bob Nastanovich episode which Bob had hinted at a Pavement reunion on Stephen Colbert. That got picked up by Stereogum, Billboard, and then Rolling Stone!  All with links and references to the podcast. Those two days were wild. But I am also unfortunately self aware to a fault that I realized within the moment that this was probably the most spotlight the podcast would ever get so it was also a tad depressing. Also, I got several nods on Theprp.com and Lambgoat. Theprp is a hardcore, punk, and metal news site that I've gotten my news from since I was coming up. I think wook has had it going for 20 plus years now? Which is crazy to think about. I only ever wanted to be Theprp.com of podcasts so to have been mentioned on there a handful of times was a thrill and an honor. I am still grateful for all the relationships I made during those four short years. I still talk to many of them today. I still talk to Josh Newton from Shiner, so to me that is a win. 

villin: In 2017 you released a compilation album of musicians featured on Pants OFF!, staggering podcast clips with full-length tracks from the artists themselves. In a review of the release for Little Village, Nate Logsdon wrote, "Campos also leads artists to revealing reflections on the creative process, which is one of the podcast’s greatest strengths." What are some of those creative reflections that still stand out to you from the series, and what was your favorite part of the creative process around putting the podcast together?

Brian Campos: Just overall, I'm proud I was able to produce 124-ish episodes, and for its time it added a different dimension to the music scene. If it motivated people to create more, whether music or even their own podcast, that's great! And hopefully they were motivated to do it better than me. Even better! Push things forward. No one ever shit talked to me to my face which was disappointing. I came up in a scene that was very competitive, back biting, and volatile but that also motivated you to level up your game. Always be ready to defend yourself. It's not like that anymore.

I know it didn't fit in perfectly because I didn't cater to just one facet of the scene and tried hard to reach many corners of it. My values and principles as well as penchant for a good dick and fart joke turned quite a few off but I that was/is me. I'm sure I would've been cancelled by now because I am not very PC. That's what happens when you talk too much and will bury yourself just to ride out in a blaze of glory. Instead, I chose to fade away quietly. Probably for the best. I embarrassed my family enough during my drinking heyday. Thank Buddha, cellphone videos weren't as abundant back then. When I did the actual interview and after the audio wasn't fucked, that was my favorite part. It was also satisfying listening to a final edit in my car, checking levels, and saying "OK, let's publish," and roll on to the next, which unfortunately meant starting to edit the next episode ASAP.The editing can take a hot piss in the wind. But, I'm in a good place now. Things are good. Keep moving forward to what's next. 

For more from the Pants OFF! Podcast, the last several episodes from the series are still available on SoundCloud, or you can listen to the Pants OFF! Mixtape on Bandcamp.

Rome Oliver Interview

Based in Des Moines, Rome Oliver has made a push for himself within the city's scene, regularly maintaining a presence online through a series of solid track and EP releases, while also landing on several notable bills, opening for the likes of Sada Baby. Dropping his most recent collection of songs, November Saints 2, this past month, for this Q&A we connected to discuss a standout track from the release, while also touching on how he approaches collaborative work, giving back to his community, and Iowa Women's Basketball.

villin: With November Saints 2, the track that stood out to me was “No Surprise.” You’ve put out a lot of music this year and I’m wondering what stands out to you about this the release that separates it from the other recent work you’ve done?

Rome Oliver: With #NovemberSaints2 I feel more vulnerable than ever. It was the first time really speaking about my daughter, opening up about my mindset towards being a new father. I also dove into a lot of reflection about my childhood and the dynamic between myself and my parents. I also spoke to the pressures of society and how I feel people's focus tends to be in the wrong place, while still offering my usual perspective of the world and its blessings and struggles. With "No Surprise," itself, I relay a powerful message about work ethic and never giving up. In the end, the results are by no surprise because I put in the work.

villin: “Survivor’s Remorse” is another recent standout that I was curious to learn more about. You touch on several personal topics in the song, but the idea of balancing the optics of success with a sense of internal harmony is one that resonates out to me: “Money motivated that’s a fact though, if I could trade it for some peace of mind I’d give it back though.” What was driving you with this song?

Rome Oliver: This concept comes from the realization of how short life is [and] losing a lot of friends through the years, whether that was from death or jail or just growing apart. Been doing this music shit for a long time and still going when I've seen hundreds of artists fall to the wayside. So, continuing to push forward, while also feeling like some of those people should be here to enjoy this with me. I'm big on keeping my inner peace, so if there was a price on it, I would definitely pay it.

villin: You’ve had a few key shows this past year, between opening for Sada Baby, hosting your birthday show, and being part of the Iowa Hip-Hop Showcase anniversary event. What are some of your fondest moments when considering this past year’s live performances?

Rome Oliver: The Sada Baby show was tough just because he has been one of my favorite artists for a while now, so that was dope to check off the list. But my birthday show was definitely the highlight of my year as far as performances go. It was also my first promotion as far as shows for my company Brknthoughts Media Group. We went hard to get that all together and we packed the event out! We had one of the most fire lineups and no drama at all! We have big plans for '24, so everyone be on the lookout for that! I would like to point out that my standout moment of the year in general was #DayOnes, my collaboration with Empire artist Big Sad 1900! He is an artist from L.A. that my team was able to get connected with; also my highest streaming song this year.

villin: Pivoting slightly from live music to a different kind of event, could you tell me a little more about the Back 2 School event you helped put on? How did the idea come together and are there plans to bring it back for a third year in 2024?

Rome Oliver: As a kid we didn't have a lot so we were always lined up at back to school giveaways tryna get that shit together. My mom did her best but she had five kids to raise by herself — four of us were adopted from four different families. So, we had some struggles coming up, which is why I feel sympathy for people who still tryna figure it out. As a kid all you ever look forward to is a chance to be great. I just try to do my part in keeping the hope alive! The goal is to complete our third annual B2S event in 2024!

villin: A few months back when it things were blowing up around Iowa women’s basketball, you put out the song “Caitlin Clark.” Could you explain the excitement you felt around that time and what were you trying to do with that song?

Rome Oliver: I've always been a huge sports fan. Caitlin is not only one of the best female hoopers I've ever seen, but maybe one of Iowa's top college athletes all-time. It was a no brainer to show her some love. Wish her the best this season — I know she is about to change the WNBA next year!

villin: A couple months ago you dropped “Jealousy” with Sight Lives. When connecting with him about the song, he said you were friends with his older brother initially and that’s how you two first linked up. Do you find that your favorite collaborations come from organically meeting people compared to linking up with a specific purpose in mind of working together?

Rome Oliver: For me it doesn't matter too much about whether I know you or not. I'm just a creator, I want to work with dope artists of all genres. Sight Lives has a dope outlook on life, in general, as well as the music, so it's always good to be able to connect with people with a layered perspective. He has at one point been a brand ambassador for my clothing line #NuEnglsh apparel. He is one of many collaborations I've had recently. I got a single with Smoov G on the way, Dessy X, Honorroll Kid and talks of a collab tape with a couple artists on the way, as well! A lot more work coming from this side.

For more from Rome, follow his work online via Instagram or TikTok, or listen to more of his music via Apple, Spotify, Tidal, or YouTube.

Aaron Hefel Interview

Aaron Hefel is a musician based in Dubuque who, over the course of the past two decades, has contributed to helping shape the city's live music scene, largely through his role as booking agent for the Lift. In this Q&A, Hefel offers an overview of trends he's noticed in the live music space following the the Lift's shutdown during the pandemic, a few local musical recommendations, and a recap of what first initially inspired him to get involved in the scene.

villin: When we began chatting you mentioned you’ve been doing shows in the Dubuque area since around 1999. When did you get started with Counterproductions, and what sort of hopes for it did you have when you began?

Aaron Hefel: Dubuque had two nice runs of indie punk bands, one in 1994-95, and another in 1996-97. Really good bands. Like, foundations of late-'80s & '90s underground punk rock (Shellac, Jesus Lizard, God Bullies, Cows). Seeing bands like that in my hometown spoke to me. "Why don't you do that?" the voice said.

[I] started August 1999 at our lone alternative lifestyles bar, One Flite Up (now defunct). They had Sundays open and I suggested trying to fill the room with kids and music. Shows had stopped happening; couldn't keep a venue for more than one show. So when I approached One Flite Up, I was looking for something to occupy small town boredom. I knew consistency was the only way. It had to be once a month or more; give people a thing to look forward to and be part of. Grateful for any venue that said yes [and] had to move the operation a few times before landing at the Lift in 2004.

villin: Be it through acts like the Old Panther collective or Melting Human Trash, have you been playing in bands that entire time, as well?

Aaron Hefel: More inactive than active. But since Grainbelt (2003), Old Panther, Kerosene Circuit, and most recently MHT all made recordings and played out of town a bit. So, no, not much, but yes.

villin: I couldn’t find a cached version of the article to read it, but in 2015 Around Iowa published an article about you titled “The Guy Who Brought Music Back to Dubuque.” What was going on around that time that triggered the article, and gauging the temperature of the music scene in town today, how have things changed around town in the near-decade since it was published?

Aaron Hefel: I think I was having a good run of shows at the bar and someone from the paper reached out. I'd say things are similar? A small handful of folks, young and old, making original music in many different genres. A few venues have come and gone.

villin: In January of 2021 you discussed the issues the Lift was experiencing in re-emerging from the pandemic with KCRG. How has the bar/venue rebounded since that time, and have you found that show patronage has returned to pre-pandemic levels?

Aaron Hefel: It's been a slow rebound. People are more particular about the events they attend. I curate the booking of small independent acts, often weekdays, in a small market. It's a lot to ask folks to trust what I book. But when they do show up and it does work, it's a very beautiful thing.

villin: One of the things I try to do with this website is regularly share playlists with Iowan artists, but having been a part of the scene for so long I was hoping you could help me out by shining a light on some of the music from years gone by that might not have hit my radar yet? While it’s tricky to answer this question without excluding anyone, who are some of your favorite Dubuque artists that have stuck with you over the years?

Aaron Hefel: Dredge is the best band in Dubuque. We've got EDM, folk, noise, hip-hop, metal, and alt -rock scenes currently growing as we speak. A few former Dubuquers out there making some killer sounds would be Telekinetic Yeti, Horse Lords, and Chinese Telephones. Ten Grand, from Iowa City, are one of the best bands from Iowa and one of the first bands I've ever booked. Incredible stuff.

VSA CHXCKY 333 Interview

VSA CHXCKY 333 is a rapper out of Storm Lake, Iowa; a fact in and of itself which puts him in rare air. Over the past year he's stepped out of the small town, expanding his reach and connecting with other likeminded people by playing shows across the region, challenging his personal and creative comfort zones in the process. In this Q&A we discussed his experience of being the firstborn of immigrant parents, how he reconciled his heritage within his music, and what some of the lessons are that he's learned throughout this early stage of his musical journey.

villin: In past interviews you've talked about identifying with a west coast sound. How did you first get introduced into rap and at that time were you more drawn to the lyrical side of the music or the beat?

VSA CHXCKY 333: How I got introduced to rap was I heard it from my cousins growing up. Since I'm the firstborn and my parents are from Mexico, I would only hear strictly Mexican music. And then when I started going to school and just being around my cousins from here — from the states — that's when I started hearing rap like Lil Wayne, 50 Cent, Wiz Khalifa, and after that I fucked with it.

And then the West Coast. I've always been listening to rap and shit, like rap has always been around me growing up. But the ones who actually made me like, "Oh yeah! I want to rap now," would be Shoreline Mafia and SOB X RBE. And Drakeo the Ruler - they had their own movement in 2016, and then what they did is what most people think about the West Coast now.

villin: I take your music as an outlet for personal expression, but also an outlet for personal reflection. With your parents being Mexico-born, there's definitely a thread of showing respect for your heritage in your songs, but what do they think of your music and do they understand what it means to you?

VSA CHXCKY 333: Well, at first my parents were like, "Oh, why are you doing rap and shit?" They wanted me to do Mexican music, like, typical Mexican music. And I had no issue with that. It's just, for me, I always wanted to rap, because in my head it would be easier for me to come up with rhymes and shit in both languages. When I started writing down raps I started in Spanish but I never put it out because I didn't think it sounded good but that's what I started with. And over time I started putting it out there little by little until I got fully comfortable, like "Yeah, I can actually do this." My family from Mexico, they support me and shit. My cousins, all my tias, all my uncles and aunts, like, they fuck with me. They see what I'm doing and they see I'm trying to do something for myself, you know?

villin: You've played shows in the region, be it Sioux City, Sioux Falls, or Spencer to name a few locations, but I'm curious what support has been like in Storm Lake itself?

VSA CHXCKY 333: My personal experience with Storm Lake... at first people didn't like it. I knew it wasn't my best shit out there, like it's my first time. My homie said "Oh yeah, just keep pushing, bro, like, blah blah blah." And I just kept practicing, kept writing every day, and just mastering my shit. And then until the year of 2022 that's when I started taking my music career serious. I started doing shows, putting myself out there, forcing myself to get out of my comfort zone, actually make something for myself.

And then I started seeing it; all the people I went to school with, people I knew, close friends, people I didn't talk to back then, they started seeing what I'm doing they're like "Oh yeah, keep pushing!" And then they started seeing the moment and until this day, they're still supporting. And just like anything, not everybody supports it but, you know, they see that you actually got something going on for yourself.

villin: When I went to BV I had no concept for any music that was coming out of the area, but in your Nasty Collective interview you made a passing mention of there being others coming out of Storm Lake before you, when it comes to making rap and hip-hop in town. Are there any names that come to mind when thinking about local artists who you appreciate?

VSA CHXCKY 333: Like, my boy Chubbz712Boss, he had a group back then called Brown America. They did big names out there like King Lil G and a couple artists from the old school, and they would play clubs and shit and travel around the Midwest.

Life shit happens and they separated, but Chubbz is a really good guy and he's really motivated to do music. He likes to be around and he'll always been a supporter of me. When I started taking my music career serious he's always been there giving me advice and shit, to get out there, you know, be hungry for this shit. Yeah, he's been helping me a lot.

villin: In your WLTV interview, you talked about how when you first started making music, you had this idea like you could release songs and just let them sit, and they'd just find an audience somehow on their own merit, when in fact it takes a lot of hustling to develop and build an audience. Are there any other lessons you've learned that you wish you could share with your younger self now?

VSA CHXCKY 333: Some lessons would be to put myself out there from the jump, keep promoting my shit, put it out there on all platforms, all the social medias. When I first started, I just started putting it on SoundCloud; like no Instagram, here and there Snapchat, no YouTube. One day I'm like "Nah, I gotta step out of my comfort zone and just put it everywhere"; all platforms and all that. And I started seeing growth in all areas, and then it all combined and everything started playing out how it's supposed to be.

Another thing would be is: always practice. Always practice, especially if you're getting shows, practice your set, practice movements. Imagine yourself with a big crowd and you're just going crazy and you're just getting into it and everybody's fucking with you and they're vibing, all that shit plays out. Then when the right moment comes you're going to be able to execute. And then you're going to show the potential you got, and that you really got this for real.

Another thing is never rush your art. If you have a gut feeling, like, you know you could have changed this, you could have done this and that, go back work on it. Even if you have to redo the song, just do it, just get it done, make sure it's perfect.

Then another thing would be, be more social. For me, I'm not really a social person. I'm more like a quiet guy, a chill type of guy. I'm just doing my own shit, in my own zone, stay in my own lane type of guy. And especially with this music, there's been times where I miss an opportunity or I could have got myself an opportunity that could have helped my career. So if I would have been social…

Right now, I try to talk to everybody — not everybody — but, you know, people that are doing some shit with their music career. And getting my name out there, keep tapping in, networking. Networking is another big thing. Networking is going to get your name out there. The people that you network with are most likely to bless you up with an opportunity because they see that you're actually hungry for it, and you're actually trying to do something for yourself. The more you network, the more opportunities you make for yourself. You just never know. It's always a surprise because you never know, but it all benefits your career.

For more from VSA CHXCKY 333, follow his work via Facebook and Instagram, or listen to more of his music via Apple Music, Spotify, or YouTube.

That Honorroll KID "Lunch Table Flow" (Singled Out)

KID PICASSO is the new full-length release from That Honorroll KID, bookending a series of three albums which the Des Moines MC says brings closure to a particular era of his life. The discussion that follows is certainly focused on this release, and in particular a standout track from it titled "Lunch Table Flow," but it also picks up off of a conversation which began over a year ago when KID was still laying out the blueprints for his Peace God album. To better understand how some of the ideas we discussed then helped inform this new release, that's where we dove in, talking about the broader journey before relating that more specifically to KID PICASSO and "Lunch Table Flow."

villin: The last time we connected you had just released Phase 2 and were focused on putting the finishing touches on Peace God. At that time you mentioned a focus on your spiritual journey and I’m wondering if and how that aspect of your journey showed up in KID PICASSO?

That Honorroll KID: For me, I ain't gonna say I've done done all the self work, but I've done the self work to the point where KID PICASSO is just more of a… I don't give a fuck anymore. Like, I can do this, I know I can do this, I don't care who thinks I can do this, I don't care who thinks I'm good at it. I'm trying to get to the point of inevitability or undeniability — if that's a word. You don't have to like me, but you're gonna understand that when it comes to this music, I've just got a different gear. I've just got a different care, a different love for it, a different attention to detail; it's slightly different than the average artist. As far as the spiritual side of where that shows up, I feel like I've done the self work with Peace God, so now I'm just kind of more clear cut and less doubtful about myself and my talents.

villin: “Lunch Table Flow” stands out as aesthetically different on the album, with more of a relaxed boom bap-leaning flavor to it. When talking about the album on Instagram, you likened it to painting a picture. What’s the picture you were painting with this song?

That Honorroll KID: I don't want to give it all away 'cause I feel like I'm gonna put it into a video and try to really depict it. But at the same time, it's like the idea, or the vision, that I got from it immediately took me back to middle school days, or even high school days a little bit, just being around a cafeteria, being around a lunch table or a setting where all my peers is around. And kinda just freestyling. I used to freestyle a lot. I kind of got away from it as I'd gotten better with the craft. But freestyling is how I started, rapping is how I started. And I feel like "Lunch Table" is the most rap-like song on the project, where I'm really trying to be a rapper and really sharpen my sword in that area. 'Cause I kinda felt like I've fallen off a little bit in that area.

It's literally a depiction of being at the table. I got a whole bunch of people around me. It starts off with a little bit of people, somebody's making a beat off their hands, the table, and the pencil, you know what I'm saying, how it used to be. And I'm just going, and it's like I just keep going, and the more I go the more people surround me, the more people are drawn to it. It's like the purest form for me of my music when it comes to rap. I have songs like "Stay Ready" on Peace God, and then I have songs like "Lunch Table" on KID PICASSO. And I feel like those are like really the calling card or the niche for me as far as when I start rapping. And I feel like "Lunch Table" did exactly what I needed it to do. And it helped paint a very vivid picture of being in that cafeteria around that lunch table, and just that type of energy.

villin: Thematically, the first half of the song touches on the navigation of relationships, trying to find the right balance, do the right things, be the right person to oneself and others. What sort of experiences had you been going through that informed the song’s lyrics?

That Honorroll KID: Over the last couple years, I've been dealing with a very serious breakup, or situation where things didn't go as planned. And so I've really just been navigating through that and re-learning myself, re-learning what I actually like in life, what I actually want to do and want to be in life. Getting more real with myself on the things that I wasn't handling well and the things and appreciating myself for the things I do handle well. I think that's important too, is to appreciate the things you do well even when other people don't.

So I was around that experience. It was mostly around a breakup and self-awareness. I became more aware of things in my life and priorities and stuff like that. But as far as navigating relationships, it was really just a breakup with my high school sweetheart and then getting rid of people around me who — not necessarily aren't beneficial, but don't see the potential of me anymore or have given up on me or view me in certain ways that I actively am trying not to be viewed in.

villin: In the past you’ve worked with 1400slim on the production side of things - who was behind the beat on the song, and did you and Slim link up anywhere on KID PICASSO?

That Honorroll KID: Me and 1400, or a Slim — whatever you know them as — we linked up, when I say we link on production, it's never like about making the beat, it's more so about putting shit together or how shit flows or how it sounds. And for this tape, I didn't really do too much of that with him. I tried to go to other people for that type of help and feedback. I did let him hear the tape a couple weeks before I dropped it and give his input on it, but it was already done by that time. He heard a couple songs before that, but we did link up on one song. I just couldn't get his ad-libs done before releasing. It was supposed to be "Never Lose" — he has a verse for "Never Lose" — but we link up on everything.

I think that he is a big help and inspiration to me when it comes to music in different ways of attacking certain things. And, it's like I said earlier, that I don't need the validation, but he's somebody whose validation I respect because it's unbiased. He's gonna tell me if that shit's whack, he's gonna tell me if that shit's decent. And bro kind of confirmed that it was decent for me. But he wasn't hands on with KID PICASSO like he was with Peace God. He walked through every step with Peace God. With KID PICASSO I was more on my own and then I had a couple of women's opinions on it as well. But I didn't really share with too many other guys exactly what was going on with KID PICASSO. Like I said, I kind of already knew what I wanted to do and knew how I felt about it and knew what it was gonna be. I had that level of confidence in myself for this one, unlike Peace God.

villin: To me, the “Lunch Table Flow” carries a vibe of cutting it up with friends, and carrying over from Peace God are a couple of the collaborators, TC and GnarlyJevy, who appear elsewhere on KID PICASSO. What does it mean to you to have those guys still in your life as friends and musical collaborators?

That Honorroll KID: As far as being with friends or being with people who I keep close to me or hold dear to me, I'm always gonna do the same people. I'm gonna be with the same n****s 'til I die. I've always been with these people and we have real relationships. We're gonna tell each other what's real or what's not. We're gonna tell each other what's good or what's not. We don't always like to hear it from each other. We're gonna tell each other when we fucking up in life and when we need to get better and do the right things and prioritize the right things. It's not always easy conversations but it's conversations we're gonna have because I feel like we all genuinely really do care about each other and want to see each other succeed. So it means the world to me to still have these type of people in my life.

As far as TC, Gnarly, Slim… There's a lot of other people who don't make music but are just as close and just as tight in the circle who are very, very important. Like Kelsey, our manager, she's very important to me. And Slim's brother, Coach, is very important to me. My siblings are very important to me and I'm sure there's a million and one names, like, we got so many other homies who are our biggest fans when it comes to music because they really truly believe what we're saying and they know where it's coming from. They actually know us as people so they know it's not a lot of fabricating. It's all real, it's all real moments in our lives that they've seen us go through, and our emotions change throughout those times and the music really resonates with them. So it's a lot of people but those three specifically that you touched on are like probably the closest to me at this point in my life because we all have one goal and one vision. And that's to make something out of this music and hopefully get somebody to feel us and resonate with them and want to help us push forward and get that step, that foot in the industry, and actually makes some noise in Des Moines.

In conclusion, I would just say that KID PICASSO is just like the purest form of art in itself. I say it's abstract, but it's art because I got to the point where I realized there's no right or wrong way to do music. Everybody has their audience and the music's going to always find its audience, however that happens, organically or not. But for me, this was like a situation where I really didn't care, it was about confidence. I knew there's going to be people who liked it, I knew there's going to be people who didn't like it. I knew there would be people who thought it was better than Peace God and people who didn't, considering Peace God was, like, a moment in time for a lot of people and it was a lot more emotional, and KID PICASSO is a lot more braggadocios, in my opinion.

I want everybody to appreciate the art. I want everybody to understand that I do really care about this music shit. I don't take it lightly, I take everything personal when it comes to music. I want to make the best project every single time I go into the lab to create one. I want the art to speak for itself but at the same time I'm going to tell you what it is, as well. Like, I really do this, I'm not new to this. Not so many people who can mess with me when it comes to this music stuff, but like I said, it's still abstract. So it can resonate with a lot of people a lot of different ways. Some people are going to see it for exactly what it is and others will see it for what they see. And that's okay. But I do know that I'm very different when it comes to this music and if they don't catch you now, they don't catch you later, when they do catch you… Touchdown, n***a.

And I also feel like the skits was what made this a better project for me than Peace God. I think that was next level. It was a long journey for these two projects, all three projects in total. This was the wrap-up of the Happy Tears, Peace God, KID PICASSO era. I feel like I'm moving into a different direction, a more mature direction. My next full-length project, I don't know when that's going to be. But when I do it, it's going to be much, much better than where I'm at now. I still feel like I can get much better with music. I haven't plateaued or peaked, even closely. I have a lot more to offer and a lot more to speak on.

For more from That Honorroll KID, follow their work on Facebook and Instagram, or listen to KID PICASSO on Apple Music, Spotify, or YouTube.

Dan Tedesco "You Want Me To Stay (But I Have To Go)" (Singled Out)

Now on the tail-end of a series of shows which brought the Des Moines-based musician out to the east coast, Dan Tedesco will be returning to Iowa for a performance this weekend at the Village Theatre in Davenport. For this edition of "Singled Out," Dan checked in from the road to discuss his recent singled titled, "You Want Me To Stay (But I Have To Go)." Releasing an alternate version of the track this week, the song takes inspiration from watching his children grow, letting go of one stage of life while at the same time grabbing a hold of the next, all in support of painting a visual scene ripe with push and pull contradiction. This is where the discussion began, digging further into the concept of drawing creative inspiration from non-musical sources.

villin: In speaking with Tony Dehner of Iowa Public Radio earlier this year, you said, "These days, I probably pull more from film and other art media, like painters or photography, even food and cooking. Those things almost inspire me to write more than listening to other music." How do those kinds of influences affect your music, and are there any relevant non-musical sources that inspired "You Want Me To Stay (But I Have To Go)"?

Dan Tedesco: Often times I find myself relating screenplays to songwriting. In that sense, the music acts almost like a score. Ultimately, I want to do more than present and melody and a set of words. I want to actually put the listener inside of a particular world. My work tends to have a very cinematic quality, as a result. I strive for musical textures that develop and grow like a storyboard, and have depth/dimension. Again, it goes back to the idea of placing the listener in a place with the music and characters. If I’ve accomplished that, I’ve done my job.

villin: Lyrically, the song reveals a push and pull, reflecting a stubborn necessity for change to play out. What was in your mind when constructing the idea around contrasting wanting to stay, or wanting another to stay, but not being able to do so?

Dan Tedesco: I think that contradiction is a major foundation of life, itself. My direct motivation for the song was the process of watching my kids grow up. They are constantly moving through stages of development, saying goodbye and hello to new phases of life. We are all going through those kinds of transitions, whether it’s within ourselves or within each other. The arrow of time points in one direction and you try and absorb as much of the moment as you can before it passes. And, I think, more importantly, we try to stay excited and curious for the unknown adventures of the new day.

villin: Did you write and record the track on your own, and are there any trends you find when thinking about whether a song might be better served by incorporating performance or production from outside collaborators?

Dan Tedesco: I did write and record this particular track entirely on my own. I’ve collaborated plenty in the past with regard to recording and production, and have done so even fairly recently, but I had a very clear idea of what I was after with this track — so I just knocked it out.

villin: The song was released as a stand-alone track, as several others have over the course of this past year. Is there any thought about releasing this song as part of a larger album or collection, be it through standard channels or something like your DTMC (the Dan Tedesco Music Channel)?

Dan Tedesco: At one time, I did think this could be a part of a larger record. I do have a project in the works that matches the tone and vibe, but ultimately I felt this song is very complete in its story and production. For me it serves as a wonderful stand-alone single. I am releasing an alternate acoustic version, and have plans to put out a solo piano take on the song. The DTMC has given me an opportunity to go even deeper into the inspirations behind the song, as well as the production process of putting it all together in the studio.

For more from Dan, follow his work on Facebook or Instagram, and you can listen to both versions of "You Want Me To Stay (But I Have To Go" via Apple Music, Spotify, and YouTube.

Huxley Madeline Interview

When considering the sub-genre, a fundamental feeling conjured by lo-fi is a sense of tenderness. While music within the genre relies upon its own conventions surrounding presentation, it's also regularly prone to rejecting artifice, expressing vulnerability by way of avoidance, or opting for subtlety in lieu of overwhelming production. While that's what comes to me here, maybe this is a mischaracterization of the music on Huxley Madeline's full-length album, Me from Myself and Seeing a Light. All the same, it's not without its tender and vulnerable moments, regardless of whatever labels are used to describe it.

As a solo musician, the album is hardly out of place among its predecessors, but it also provides an interesting contrast to some of the musician's other outlets (perhaps most notably GOLDBLUMS, which was once described as a group of "Des Moines area shapeshifting reptilian overlords"). What remains is an interesting conceptual crossroads, reconciling song titles such as "I Saw God Smoking Crack in an Electric Chair" with lyrics and sounds that evoke and inspire gentle contemplation. In this discussion Huxley shared some thoughts speaking to the album's lyrical intent, while also exploring one of its most personally impactful lyrics, among other topics. For more from Huxley, follow their work via Instagram, or listen to Me from Myself and Seeing a Light on Bandcamp.

villin: Lyrically, there is a “you,” or an external person, who you’re singing at or to throughout the album. As relationships change, so too changes the image of someone in our minds, so even if the person remains the same, who they are to us changes… I’m not sure if this will make sense, but does the “you” remain consistent through these songs? Who are the “you”s you’re singing to here?

Huxley Madeline: There are certainly specific individuals in my life that I refer to in these songs but I often choose to keep their identities private, sometimes even to them, for personal reasons. The notion of the changing "you" definitely came into effect while working on this record, too, with shifting dynamics of real life relationships. Some songs got scrapped due to this, where others remained the same, but I now see them through an entirely different context. I try to keep what I write up to interpretation as best as I can, but those close to me can sometimes peel back the layers and tell what the specifics are.

villin: “Ampersand” bears a strong appeal poetically, and to me it conjures mental images of ascension (to nowhere in particular), a warm glow fading into nothingness. Are there any lyrics that came out of you through writing this album that surprised you, or felt particularly heavy after you’d sat with them for a while?

Huxley Madeline: The lyric that stands out the most to me in the record is a very simplistic one. At the end of the third track there is a refrain of "I sneak out the room" and ever since I recorded that song that line has stuck with me. I am a generally very anxious person these days and that line, with the way it is in the context of the song, seems to sum up the simultaneously relief and despair that comes with leaving a social situation and being alone again.

villin: A lot of your past work finds you experimenting within an instrumental framework, removing lyrics or vocals from the picture. This album takes a different approach, but closes with the instrumental track “Headin’ To Ya.” What about closing the album with that song felt right?

Huxley Madeline: That track was one that I had recorded a few years ago that never found a home, and in the process of working on the record I had it at the end as a placeholder for a while but it ended up just sticking. I wanted the album to end on a positive note since a lot of the record deals with fairly heavy themes. I felt like ending with an instrumental track — that in it's essence is about texting someone that you're on your way to them — was a good way to give that levity and leaves things in a place that allows the sense of moving forward.

villin: In the past you’ve handed off mastering and that sort of thing to others, but for Me from Myself and Seeing a Light you recorded, mixed, and mastered the album yourself. Was there a guiding reason to why you took a more insular approach to this release’s creation?

Huxley Madeline: I've always recorded and mixed my own records and in the past I was able to get them mastered on the cheap fairly easily. Really, the only thing that led me to mastering this one myself comes down to the price of the mastering being out of my budget. Hopefully the songs don't suffer from this.

villin: Earlier this year you released the “Chaos on Court” / “Still Crazy After All These Years” split, with proceeds going to the Iowa Trans Mutual Aid Fund. Could you share a little about why that organization is important to you?

Huxley Madeline: There are many people in my life and community that I am close to and acquainted with in my life that are trans. An organization like the Iowa Trans Mutual Aid Fund is incredibly important in a state like Iowa, that is seemingly constantly making moves to dehumanize the trans community and take support away from them. Another organization that I believe is crucial to the community is Des Moines Mutual Aid, which provides services to the houseless community in Des Moines. In a world where people are often shunned and turned away for who they are, mutual aid is one of the best things we can do to keep people safe and keep our communities strong.

Chase Schweitzer Interview

Chase Schweitzer is a musician and podcast host living in Des Moines, and his band, the Halloween Episode, will be playing Saturday, November 18 at xBk Live. Several months ago he and I first connected on the topic of a Q&A, but what materialized from the discussion was something that reached well beyond the questions I'd initially sent his way. In his follow-up message, he referred to what he'd written as something of a "stream of consciousness," but what he sent provides a holistic view of how Chase got to where he is now, both as a musician and just as a human being, that goes well beyond a stream of words on the screen.

In his email, Chase included something of a notated mixtape, adding additional photos, notes, and audio tracks, but what follows here (and precedes the Q&A itself) is the bulk of what he sent me in his own words: A musical timeline, reflecting on the decade of work that has landed him where he is. As he added in our exchange, Chase wrote, "The upcoming show November 18 at xBk is my dream show. Since I was a teenager, I’ve fantasized about sharing a stage with Halfloves. Halfloves and Wave Cage – those guys are heroes to me. I feel so grateful for the chance to play alongside them, let alone headline as T.H.E. for the first time at a venue like xBk. I’m putting everything I have into making this show the greatest of my life. I’m putting everything into the music and leaving everything on the stage."

ILL WAY (2013-2016)

In high school, I’d constantly try spinning homework assignments into something I already wanted to do. (I’m not sure if that means I’m lazy or efficient.) I joined the Valley High School punk outfit, ILL WAY, as band manager for a capstone project and spent the next three years helping them grow any way I could. I was already friends with Jadyn Swailes and Parker Reed (PR) but Ryan Voggesser, Henry Parizek, and Logan Abdulghani quickly accepted me as one of their own.

My introduction to the band came when Henry handed me their first CD, Marty’s Party, in the hallway between classes one day. The next year, we recorded LP2, Something New to Do, at the Sonic Factory with legendary audio engineer Matt Sepanic (most notable for Slipknot’s Iowa). Looking back, this is the first time I remember “producing” a record. It was immediately all I wanted to do. I’m not sure if the other ILL WAY members would give me that credit but Sepanic sure as hell didn’t want it.

“Producer” is a fuzzy role. To me, a producer’s job is to maximize a project’s potential however necessary — but how that happens, exactly, is different every time. For Something New to Do, I organized the tracklist, recorded scratch tracks, acquired snacks, woke up bandmates when it was their turn to record, wrote a couple guitar parts, edited the album cover and hovered behind Sepanic as closely as he’d let me throughout the long, greasy five days (the maximum we could afford).

My experience in ILL WAY is why I fell in love with the DIY scene. No emphasis on the vibe-killing fantasy of “making it” in the industry — just friends playing music. We were all going through a lot during those teenage years into our early twenties and I’m glad we had each other, even if we’d occasionally threaten to fire the drummer or fight over guitar solos.

We played with a lotta great DIY bands around Iowa but the three I remember most vividly are 515, Grandchamp, and the Yelps. PR and I were genuinely obsessed with 515; their record Mind Monsters (also recorded with Matt Sepanic at the Sonic Factory) was a masterpiece for our high school scene. I still listen to it from time to time and the catharsis it provides me… it’s hard to explain. It’s not about the quality of the songwriting, instrumentation, or production (which was all impressive). I wouldn’t go so far as to call it “outsider art” but there’s something so pure about that record. I loved it then and I love it now.

Sometimes I wish I could bottle the feeling I had moshing to “The Room and Mine” at Vaudeville Mews nearly 10 years ago. Then I listen to the song and realize that feeling is still there, deep down within me. Music always pulls it out. 

Grandchamp was another shockingly good band for their age. Charlie Cacciatore (who now plays as Good Morning Midnight) was already an amazing songwriter and Andrew Jones (Zap Tura) brought so much instrumentally. I’m stoked both of them are still making incredible music and playing it all over Iowa. 

And of course, the Yelps gave us Kyle James, whose near-masterful music speaks for itself.

Ask on stage at Vaudeville Mews (2013)

Ask (2013-2014), State City (2015), Columbia (2016)

Before I go on describing all the bands I’ve played with, I gotta clarify something pretty important. Bands are just different arrangements of friends who hang out by playing music together. That could be the thesis statement for this entire thing. Don’t take any of these descriptions too seriously. You’ll see a lotta names repeated over and over. 

None of us were trying to make it. We were all coping with something. And music is how we coped. 

I started my first band, Ask, the same week I joined ILL WAY as manager. We had Saketh Undurty on drums, Andrew Novitskiy (the Nov) on guitar, Grady Stein on bass, and Calvin Senteza singing lead. I wrote the songs but didn’t feel confident enough to sing ‘em myself. Lucky for me, Calvin has an incredible voice and didn’t mind performing my lyrics. We played a handful of shows with ILL WAY and other Valley bands before college split us apart.

State City on stage at Vaudeville Mews

At some point during the ILL WAY run, PR, Henry and I started a spin-off pop punk band called State City. We only played a couple of shows (mostly as an opener for ILL WAY) and rotated songwriting duties. Some of Parker and I’s stuff would end up on future projects but State City itself never recorded. We were almost just a jam band honestly, we could noodle around for hours. I still miss State City. We worked off each other well.

ILL WAY and State City dissolved as friends drifted apart or moved away from Des Moines. PR and I started a new band called Columbia, which pretty much only existed during the summers when Saketh and the Nov were back from school. We only played a couple shows with the Yelps and managed to record a handful of demos.

Solo (2017)

I started cranking out my own music in my parents basement when I moved home from college. It was a sweet setup – I had a mini fridge, TV, and a sliding door closet I could use as a vocal booth. I was super depressed and writing/recording became my outlet for figuring that out.

Solo (2018)

Eventually I got my own place and assembled a lil studio in my spare bedroom. Creepy stairs, occasional mice. Still depressed, still working it out through music. I started playing solo for the first time.

Solo + the Ringwalds (2020)

I bought an old house (bats included) and built another lil studio to record my third record – this time with all the homies. PR played lead guitar, Jorb (Josh Petefish) played synth, Mikey Entin played drums, Ryan Garmoe played trumpet, and Lauren Johnson played bass. I wrote and produced the record while playing guitar and singing (or trying to sing).

We got in way over our heads recording Boys and Their Poetry. Brian and I gave everything we had for an ambitious goal but ultimately the initial release left me feeling kinda let down with myself. I’m usually imagining something different sounding than what I get but this time the gap was far wider than any time prior. I wrote the record as a solo LP and couldn’t figure out how to make it as self-satisfying as my other solo LPs. It wasn’t until later that I realized something important – when you include other people, you don’t get exactly what you want. That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t include other people. It means you’ll probably get something better if you adjust your expectations.

Face It Tiger on stage at Lefty's

Face It Tiger (2018–Present)

I met Brian Garrels while working an event for a shitty startup downtown. I did some design and he was running audio. We immediately hit it off and eventually started sharing music and recording together. He invited me to jam with his friends, Greg Rudolph and Jake Bachman, who he was hoping to start a post rock group with. I played bass for maybe two months before we kinda fizzled out. A week or two later, Brian texted Greg and I something like, “Greg on drums, me on bass, Chase on guitar/singing?” and we were immediately down. We’ve been a band ever since.

Something glued the three of us together more than any group I’ve played with. It’s kinda surprising given we didn’t necessarily get along at first. Greg and I definitely butted heads the most ‘cause we came from such different places, musically. Greg was way more hardcore, post punk, and edgy while I was more alternative, pop punk, and whiny. Brian played mediator and somehow we stuck it out. We wrote a ton of songs together and ripped some house shows but only released one track. 

Greg started leaving Iowa every spring to fight wildfires, leaving the survival of our band in question. We decided to write/record a song a couple weeks before his first departure. I called it “Sad Tobey Maguire,” which definitely made Greg roll his eyes at first (like most of my song titles until he submits to Stockholm syndrome).

(Someone came up to me after a Ringwalds show once and asked if I had a celebrity doppelganger. I said, “I dunno, maybe sad Tobey Maguire?,” and she was like, “I WAS GONNA SAY TOBEY MAGUIRE!” It made me laugh how quickly she brushed off the “sad” part and, for whatever reason, it felt like the right name for the song.)

We started recording an album last year and are finally closing in on a final product. I’d say late this year/early next year is likely.

The Halloween Episode on stage at the Gas Lamp

The Halloween Episode (2020–Present)

I started the Halloween Episode with my buddy Morgan Burmester and a few other usual suspects. Mikey plays drums, Brian plays bass, Jorb plays synth, Garmoe plays trumpet. I wanted to start a band about being quiet rather than being loud. Up until that point, all my collaborative projects had some kinda “punk” mixed in but my solo stuff was usually more ambient and emo. 

“The Halloween Episode” is usually my favorite episode of every show. The typical sitcom format is flipped on its head and all the characters play slightly different roles. Crazy stuff can happen in the halloween episode, stuff that can’t happen throughout the rest of the season. But the true meaning behind the name is a little more complex. 

A few years back, one of my oldest friends went missing for several days in October. I saw him just a day or two before he left and could tell something was wrong. I wanted to help but didn’t know how. I was sick to my stomach thinking I might never see him again. But I also felt guilty – guilty I didn’t raise the alarms and call someone when I knew something was up. When he came home safe, I promised myself I’d never take him or any of my other friends for granted ever again. 

“The Halloween Episode” can be a dark time in anybody’s life. Just like a sitcom can have many seasons, I’ve had several halloween episodes throughout my life. That particular one inspired me to start the band and here we are.

The Halloween Episode

villin: On your website you've shared something of a mission statement that reads, "Motivated by Des Moines: The goal is glory, not for self, for the city." What does that mean to you?

Chase Schweitzer: I fell in love with Des Moines as a kid, scraping my knees on the bottom of Ashworth Pool. I grew up here and I’ll probably die here but I don’t blame people who yearn for a more established scene or accepting community. Some get driven out by Kim Reynolds culture, some just need to escape their hometown. If I believe we can be better, it’s on me to prove it. So I guess that’s why I stay.

The mission statement, while cheesy, is an expression of love. Nothing I do matters to me unless I do it for Des Moines. I love Seattle and Nashville and Atlanta and New York but I love Des Moines more. I’m stubborn, I guess. I wanna see my city thrive. I think that’s my passion in life.

villin: My introduction to your music came by way of tapping into the Pretty Fort podcast. You and Parker have been consistently working on that for roughly four years and are inching your way closer to 200 episodes across two PF podcasts. That show was preceded by another podcast you two did together called Fairly Local. What was your goal for FL when you started it and why'd you close up shop with that in 2017?

Chase Schweitzer: Wow, you know the deep lore. Parker is the first person I remember talking about podcasts with. It’s hard to imagine now because podcasting ultimately became so ubiquitous – but back in high school, it was pretty niche.

We started our first show together as teenagers and named it “Fairly Local” after the Twenty One Pilots song (lol). Every week, we reviewed two new releases (one local, one from wherever) in a laid-back, conversational format. Of course, now there are millions of shows like that for every conceivable genre or niche…  but in 2014, the idea seemed at least somewhat novel. 

Fairly Local kinda sucked but still made it some 60 or so episodes before fizzling out. It was essentially the first draft of Pretty Fort and taught us everything we needed to know before starting a new show. Our shared passion was the scene, especially Vaudeville Mews and the 80/35 Extended Universe. We wanted to zoom in on the “local” part of “Fairly Local” and thus Pretty Fort was born. The show has grown beyond our expectations and is probably my most proud creation. I’m sure PR would say the same.

villin: Why is it important to you to focus on local music?

Chase Schweitzer: The simple answer is, “Because nobody else will.” The real answer is more complex. 

The most moving, captivating, perspective-altering musical performances I’ve witnessed have happened in dingy rooms with a handful of other people – all of us clinging to the same moment in time, swaying in unison, captivated by something organic and unfiltered on a stage only six inches off the ground, shuffling our feet on sticky, PBR-soaked floors. I’ve been to my fair share of arena shows but Des Moines taught me that if you like music more than spectacle, you have to seek it out from the source. 

The musical fabric of the next decade is being woven as we speak. Not at stadiums or exorbitantly priced festivals but at small venues and in crowded basements across the country and across the world. If you’re pouring your heart out on a Tuesday night to a crowd of three at the Mews, it’s ‘cause you have something to say. That’s what I wanna talk about. Those are the shows that changed my life.

villin: My favorite thing about Pretty Fort to this point has been your recurring focus on Slipknot. How have those episodes changed your view of the band?

Chase Schweitzer: I gotta admit I was never into Slipknot (or anything that hard) growing up. Pretty Fort kinda forced me to familiarize myself with their discography and I’m so glad I went on that journey, despite how grueling it was at times. If Iowa is gonna be known for just one band, Slipknot certainly isn’t the worst option. 

My taste in music is much broader now; I appreciate harder stuff and I’ll casually listen to Slipknot here and there. I wish they felt more like a “band” and less like “Corey Taylor plus a band” in this current era but I guess I should just be happy they’re still kickin’. 

It’s definitely a dream to have a member of Slipknot on the show. I think Jim Root is hilarious and would love the chance to talk to him. Hit me up if you know how to get in touch with Jim Root (haha).

villin: Through focusing so much of your time on the podcast over the years, I'm curious what you get out of doing it. Has the "why" shifted since you started?

Chase Schweitzer: The “why” has certainly shifted. In the beginning, PR and I were simply hitting record on conversations we were gonna have anyway. We never had to force the “local” part. We genuinely loved our scene and the podcast was essentially just a fun way to hang out and meet our favorite artists. 

Once we got deeper in, the show started feeling like a responsibility as much as a hobby. When news of the Mews closing broke, PR and I rushed downtown for an onsite interview with Amedeo. Telling the story of the venue and explaining its death felt like a serious responsibility of Pretty Fort. Who else was gonna tell the story but us? (Of course, The New York Times interviewed Deo the next day.)

The show is so much more than a hobby now. If we have any semblance of a platform, it’s our obligation to advocate for the people and places that make Des Moines so special to us. The scene gave us so much – we gotta give back and tell the stories no one else will. 

It weighs heavy on me sometimes. I get discouraged and find myself unable to record that next interview or review that next record. But no matter how long the break, Pretty Fort will keep coming back. I promise. 

villin: Could you tell me a little more about what Greenwood Sound is and what your role is with it?

Chase Schweitzer: My buddy Brian Garrels and I have been producing music together since 2017. We’ve spent thousands of hours recording, editing, mixing, and mastering stuff for us and our friends. Greenwood Sound is our brand and (eventually) our studio. We’ve worked with Wave Cage, Seth Cloe, Juno Kaplan, Bouquet, and others so far. We have a specific passion for maximizing fidelity while preserving the “DIY” feel. 

villin: Earlier this year you dipped your toes into writing, covering Kyle James' album for Little Village. Have you done any other writing about the scene over the years I might have missed?

Chase Schweitzer: Besides my rants on Twitter and a couple high school poetry compilations? Not much, haha. I would love to write more for Little Village or other small journals. Someday I will write a book about Des Moines and our scene – I just gotta let the story play out first.

villin: Looking back, you've been part of a slew of musical projects over the years, including the Halloween Episode and working with the Ringwalds. For the uninitiated, what's one song you'd recommend new listeners of yours to start with?

Chase Schweitzer: The vast majority of my music has been removed from streaming and stashed away on my computer until I can figure out what’s worth sharing later. If you wanna check out something, I’d listen to “Ghost Story,” which is still available on Spotify, etc.

villin: What are your favorite venues/places to see live music?

Chase Schweitzer: I fear nothing will ever compare to Vaudeville Mews. What Des Moines really needs is a community theater – a place for young bands and artists to play without needing to sign exclusivity contracts or book shows eight months in advance. A place where cover is “whatever you wanna charge” and you get to keep it. If new musicians don’t have a place to develop, Iowa will stop exporting music and the mid-sized venues sustained by touring acts will slowly sink too. 

I don’t know how to change course but I’m gonna try everything I can. Des Moines deserves it.