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Michael "Wanz" Wansley

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"Equality Is More Than Just A Word": Michael "Wanz" Wansley On How The Music Industry Can Effect Real Change

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The Recording Academy checked in with the "Thrift Shop" singer and Pacific Northwest chapter member to get his thoughts on the current situation, what change looks like and how the music industry at large can contribute
GRAMMYs
Jun 15, 2020 - 12:45 pm

Many might recognize singer/songwriter/rapper Michael Wansley—a.k.a. "Wanz" or "TeeWanz"—as the vocals on the hook of Macklemore & Ryan Lewis' 2012 smash "Thrift Shop," for which the trio won two GRAMMYs for "Best Rap Performance" and "Best Rap Song." But the performer and Recording Academy Pacific Northwest Chapter member has been in the game since the '80s, having formed cover troupe Boys Will Be Boys and moving on to pick up the bass in Seattle acts The Rangehoods and Lifering. 

Now, with Black Lives Matter protests being staged across the nation in response to the deaths of George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, David McAtee and many other Black people at the hands of police, the Recording Academy checked in with Wanz to get his thoughts on the current situation, what change looks like and how the music industry at large can contribute.

How would you describe our current situation? 

As a older Black man, I'm caught in between the reminders of the past and the promise and optimism of today and the future.

How did we get here?

"We" got here through faith and perseverance. Believing in change, having faith in the changing hearts and minds of those becoming aware of injustice and prejudice on many levels. From Trayvon Martin to George Floyd— [it] has been a journey of discovery for many.

What does change look like?

Change or evolution? I prefer evolution from an older perspective to a newer one driven by the progression of Black People never backing down from their truth. Equality is more than just a word.

What are you doing to activate/advocate?

I am sharing my experiences and memories from 1967-1972 when this country lost MLK and Bobby Kennedy. There are many parallels between then and now for me. The biggest difference, as with the Vietnam War, has been televised displays questioning the perception of equality. I point to the horror of the eight minutes and 46 seconds that George Floyd lost his life and the manner in which that life was taken is the same as the lynchings and assassinations of old.

How are you coping?

Mostly, I'm reflecting. Thinking. Admiring those who feel they must take to the streets.

I remember crying with my father as we watched Obama's inauguration, I wish he and many in my family were still alive to see the evolution taking place before my eyes. I'm also trying very hard to be patient with those who still do not see or connect the injustices of today as an extension of prejudices of the past. Black History is undervalued in the educational system. The events of today will expand the educational perspectives of tomorrow and hopefully continue the positive evolution of American Society.

How can the music community at large contribute?

Remind the community of when music spoke to social and political issues. Popular music in the late '60s and early '70s dealt with prejudice, war, politics, social change—the music community needs to rediscover its gift and power to inspire. Raps by LL Cool J and Nick Cannon are examples of how music artists can stir the emotional core of almost anyone! The music industry as a whole needs to de-emphasize monetary importance and encourage using our gifts to empower and inspire fan bases.

In your opinion, what should non-Black people be doing to support the Black community?

Ask questions honestly and without political agenda. Then, listen. After the listening, people can decide for themselves what action or inaction to take, but without the transfer of accurate information, advancing positive evolution doesn't happen as fast.

Want To Support Protesters And Black Lives Matter Groups? Here’s How

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Hero The Band perform at the Recording Academy Atlanta Chapter Annual Membership Celebration
Photo: Marcus Ingram/WireImage

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Report: Music & Culture Infrastructure Can Create Better "Future Cities"

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How sound planning for a creative future in our urban areas makes all the difference for artists and musicians
Nate Hertweck
GRAMMYs
Oct 23, 2019 - 2:27 pm

The future, as they say, is now. And for music makers around the world, building a future for themselves often starts at home, in their local creative community and in the city where they live. While technology has expanded communication and made the world smaller, cities continue to grow, making planning for the future a critical cultural mission of the present.

To that end, a new report by global organization Sound Diplomacy titled "This Must Be The Place" examines, "The role of music and cultural infrastructure in creating better future cities for all of us." The 37-page deep dive into community planning and development highlights the importance of creative culture in what it calls "Future Cities."

"The government defines ‘Future Cities’ as 'a term used to imagine what cities themselves will be like," the report states, "how they will operate, what systems will orchestrate them and how they will relate to their stakeholders (citizens, governments, businesses, investors, and others),'"

According to the report, only three global cities or states currently have cultural infrastructure plans: London, Amsterdam and New South Wales. This fact may be surprising considering how city planning and sustainability have become part of the discussion on development of urban areas, where the UN estimates 68 percent of people will live by 2050.

"Our future places must look at music and culture ecologically. Much like the way a building is an ecosystem, so is a community of creators, makers, consumers and disseminators," the report says. "The manner in which we understand how to maintain a building is not translated to protecting, preserving and promoting music and culture in communities."

The comparison and interaction between the intangibility of culture and the presence of physical space is an ongoing theme throughout the report. For instance, one section of the report outlines how buildings can and should be designed to fit the cultural needs of the neighborhoods they populate, as too often, use of a commercial space is considered during the leasing process, not the construction process, leading to costly renovations.

"All future cities are creative cities. All future cities are music cities."

On the residential side, as cities grow denser, the need increases for thoughtful acoustic design and sufficient sound isolation. Future cities can and should be places where people congregate

"If we don’t design and build our future cities to facilitate and welcome music and experience, we lose what makes them worth living in."

For musicians and artists of all mediums, the answer to making—and keeping—their cities worth living in boils down to considering their needs, impact and value more carefully and sooner in the planning process.

"The report argues that property is no longer an asset business, but one built on facilitating platforms for congregation, community and cohesion," it says. "By using music and culture at the beginning of the development process and incorporating it across the value chain from bid to design, meanwhile to construction, activation to commercialisation, this thinking and practice will result in better places."

The report offers examples of how planners and leaders are handling this from around the world. For instance, the Mayor Of London Night Czar, who helps ensure safety and nighttime infrastructure for venues toward the Mayor's Vision for London as a 24-hour city. Stateside, Pittsburgh, Penn., also has a Night Mayor in place to support and inform the growth of its creative class.

Diversity, inclusion, health and well-being also factor into the reports comprehensive look at how music and culture are every bit as important as conventional business, ergonomic and environmental considerations in Future Cites. Using the Queensland Chamber of Arts and Culture as a reference, it declared, "A Chamber of Culture is as important as a Chamber of Commerce."

In the end, the report serves as a beacon of light for governments, organizations, businesses and individuals involved in planning and developing future cities. Its core principals lay out guideposts for building friendly places to music and culture and are backed with case studies and recommendations. But perhaps the key to this progress is in changing how we approach the use of space itself, as the answer to supporting music may be found in how we look at the spaces we inhabit.

"To develop better cities, towns and places, we must alter the way we think about development, and place music and culture alongside design, viability, construction and customer experience," it says. "Buildings must be treated as platforms, not assets. We must explore mixed‑use within mixed‑use, so a floor of a building, or a lesser‑value ground floor unit can have multiple solutions for multiple communities."

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Be Like Björk: Iceland Unveils New 'Record In Iceland' Initiative

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Luz Elena Mendoza of Y La Bamba

Photo: Lorne Thomson/Redferns

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These Record Labels Are Changing The Way Portland Listens To Music

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A closer look at the City of Roses shows a vibrant, blooming landscape of hip-hop, jazz, R&B, pop, electronic, folk & more - here are three record labels leading the way in PDX
Jeffrey Silverstein
GRAMMYs
Jun 20, 2019 - 3:54 pm

Home to the most record stores per capita of any U.S. city, Portland proper consideration as a major force in the music scene of the Pacific Northwest. A haven for artists working across genre and medium, the City of Roses' music landscape is rooted in community and inclusivity, a staunch contrast to the gate-keeping and social-climbing structures held onto by larger cities.

The past few years marked a notable stylistic and demographic shift in music from Portland, having come up as a rock-and-roll town. Ethiopian-American rapper Aminé, GRAMMY-winning psych-pop group Portugal. The Man and Latin/Cumbia-influenced artists Y La Bamba and Sávila continue to expand Portland’s music breadth and reach. 

Providing the structure, support and dedication to these artists are a growing number of record labels working tirelessly, sometimes invisibly, to bring new local sounds to national audiences. While the idea of starting or running a record label in 2019 might seem daunting, Portland’s label group carry a spirit of fellowship, often turning to one another for advice and inspiration. Below, we’ve highlighted three labels releasing some of the most forward-thinking acts Rip City (and beyond) have to offer. All hail the purveyors of sound.

Tender Loving Empire

Founded by creative power couple Brianne and Jared Mees, Tender Loving Empire has served as a pillar of the Portland arts community for over a decade. Part record label, part boutique offering handmade goods from over 500 local and global independent artists, TLE’s values have remained steadfast since their inception. “Our mission statement is: to empower and support creatives, to enrich and fulfill employees and to delight and inspire patrons. It sort of works as a triangle poem, you can switch it around in any order you want,” Music Manager Chloe Costello tells us.

As a label, TLE have one of the most diverse rosters in town. Regarding their scouting process, Costello says that TLE looks for artists that have “'the duende,' a Spanish term that Jared & Brianne love which means a quality of passion and inspiration."

Between the minimalist experimentalism of Willis Earl Beal, future-pop of Radiation City and refined soul of Ural Thomas, TLE artists most certainly have “the duende,” and then some. TLE casts a wider net than most, taking risks on both up-and-comers and amplifying the voices of their established artists. A visit to one of their now five locations (including one at the airport!) is a must for those traveling to Portland for the first time.

Albums to Start With:

  1. Mujeres, Y La Bamba
    An early signee to TLE,Y La Bamba are led by singer/guitarist Luz Elena Mendoza. Released earlier this year, Mujeres is a brilliant, self-produced album touching upon psych, pop, rock and folk explored through Mendoza’s lens as a first generation Mexican-American woman.
     
  2. The Right Time, Ural Thomas & The Pain
    At 79-years-old, soul singer Ural Thomas is finally becoming a household name. Thomas, who shared bills with James Brown, the Rolling Stones and other highly acclaimed artists in the ‘60s and ‘70s, recently resurfaced with a new band, The Pain, after numerous years creating music on his own terms. The Right Time is a collection of both back catalogue and new material serving as testament to Ural’s crucial role in Portland’s all-too-often forgotten soul music history.
     
  3. Hey Galaxy, Andrea Gibson
    Hey Galaxy is TLE’s first collaboration with a spoken word artist. Gibson’s work touches on queer empowerment, race, gender, love, and countless other personal and social issues and connects the label back to their early efforts publishing books and zines. Hey Galaxy is a deep, moving and vital record for our current sociopolitical climate.

Fresh Selects

Blog-turned-record label Fresh Selects saw its first proper retail release in 2013. Prior to that, label founder Kenny Fresh built an audience via free downloads and original content on his blog highlighting boundary-pushing artists in hip-hop, soul and electronic music. After taking the site offline in 2010 to focus on a Fresh Selects concert series featuring Erykah Badu and Madlib amongst many others, Fresh began to rethink how he could support artists on a more long-term, consistent basis.

Now one of the most exciting labels in the country, the Selects catalogue touches on jazz, indie, R&B and beat tapes from a global roster including Brooklyn’s Reginald Chapman, Aru-2 from Japan and London’s Emmavie. For Fresh, the album reigns supreme.

”We hold the art form of the album in great regard and much of our focus with each release is on making each the most essential, cohesive, detailed and intentional version of itself that can be,” he tells us. With an incredible ear for timeless music with high-replay value, Fresh Selects is one of those labels you know is in it for the long haul.

Albums to start with:

  1. Breatharian, Mndsgn
    The label came out of the gate swinging on their debut release with Breatharian, an otherworldly concept beat tape from Los Angeles experimental hip-hop artist Mndsgn. Piano riffs, sampled strings and heavily chopped/edited vocal samples float atop steady, driving rhythms taking the listener in and out of dreamlike state as the album progresses.
     
  2. Seven Sundays, SiR
    On the debut LP from Inglewood, Calif., singer/songwriter SiR, R&B takes on new meaning. After many years co-writing for Jill Scott, Robert Glasper and others, SiR teamed up with a production dream-team including Knxwledge (Kendrick Lamar's To Pimp A Butterfly), Chris Dave (Blue Note recording artist, drummer for D'Angelo & Adele), DK The Punisher (Justin Bieber) and more to create a stunning 9-track LP showcasing SiR’s strengths as story-teller and songwriter alike.
     
  3. Cleo, Charlotte Dos Santos
    Brazilian-Norwegian jazz singer Charlotte Dos Santos teamed up with Fresh Selects to release her first EP in 2017. Cleo is a fine introduction to a versatile artist whose take on electro-soul is mesmerizing. On "Sumer is Icumen In," Santos reimagines a medieval round song from the mid-13th century into a sweltering groove only a master of their craft could pull off.

Mama Bird Recording Co.

Browsing the Mama Bird Recording Co.’s website, one key layout decision stands out. Where most labels would have an “artists” tab, Mama Bird’s roster is listed under "family." There is perhaps no better metaphor for how the label operates. Between their Winter Wassail holiday shows, songwriters in the round events and on-the-nose tour packages, it’s heartening to witness the degree to which Mama Bird artists champion one another.

Founded in 2011 by Vincent Bancheri, early releases centered on traditional-leaning Americana; however, recent additions to the family including Damien Jurado, Haley Henderickx and Matt Dorrien have helped shape Mama Bird into one of the most highly revered labels for singer-songwriters, period. Proudly committed to exceptional songcraft, each subsequent release further exemplifies Mama Bird’s innate love for honest, unprocessed music capable of affecting the masses.

Albums to Start With

  1. Quite a Feelin’, Barna Howard
    Laid back country for fans of Phil Ochs, Waylon Jennings and John Prine. On Howard’s second LP, the Missouri native takes us through the trials, troubles, and tribulations of small-town living through a series of simple, beautiful tunes.
     
  2. May Your Kindness Remain, Courtney Marie Andrews
    On her second LP for Mama Bird, Andrews draws comparisons to Linda Ronstadt, but her ability to weave soul, pop, and country places her in a league of her own. Despite loneliness being a central theme of the record, Andrews intimate vocal delivery and crafty lyrics leave you feeling anything but.
     
  3. I Need to Start a Garden, Haley Heynderickx
    It has been an absolutely massive year for Portland songwriter Haley Heynderickx. Her debut LP I Need to Start a Garden is a deeply intimate album demonstrating Heynderickx’s remarkable range as a vocalist, dexterity as a guitarist and a pension for engineering lyrics that have you thinking deeper with every listen.

Portland Trombonist Denzel Mendoza Isn't Done Dreaming Yet

GRAMMYs

 Ariel Rechtshaid

Photo by Ryan Hunter

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More Than A Decade In, Songwriter & Producer Ariel Rechtshaid Stays Winning

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With another HAIM album under his belt and a Hot 100 hit from a member of his Heavy Duty Music roster, the Los Angeles-based hitmaker is having yet another banner year in a string of banner years
Brennan Carley
GRAMMYs
Sep 18, 2020 - 8:38 am

In late June, Ariel Rechtshaid scored a Hot 100 Number One in the unlikeliest of ways, he says. "It was another random phenomenon in a series of random phenomena that I've witnessed in my life—and another thing you couldn't possibly control or cook up."

The 41-year-old songwriter and producer is talking about "Trollz," a splashy chart-topping collaboration by New York meme-turned-rapper 6ix9ine and actual New York legend Nicki Minaj, which was co-written and produced by Jeremiah Raisen, who’s signed to Rechtshaid’s Heavy Duty Music. While it’s not a direct Hot 100 credit to Rechtshaid himself, it’s one in a string of massive successes the company has racked up this year. In 2020 alone, acts like HAIM, Charli XCX, Bon Iver, Yves Tumor, and Francis & the Lights have enlisted Heavy Duty Music’s stacked roster to assist on their recent projects. "When you're able to take a step back and forget about all the bullshit, when you see the impact that you've made on people's lives, that's really the thing you're most proud of," he says.

And that’s not even taking into account Rechtshaid’s own massive accomplishments over the last decade. Long considered one of the most thoughtful voices in pop music, he’s likely contributed to at least one of your favorite artist’s projects, helming hits for Madonna, Sky Ferreira, Carly Rae Jepsen, Blood Orange, U2, Vampire Weekend, The Chicks, HAIM, Adele, Beyoncé and more (many, many more).

Rechtshaid, a GRAMMY winner (for Usher's "Climax" and Vampire Weekend’s Father Of The Bride), carved an hour of his afternoon in early August to walk GRAMMY.com through his massive 2020, his equally staggering career and the ways in which he’s been able to get business back to usual after the pandemic hit Los Angeles earlier this year.

This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.

You're someone who likes to get in the studio with artists for full projects. So how has this pandemic changed the way that you work?

It made me feel like I'm between jobs. I haven't had that in a long time. Everything's been one thing after another. I've taken breaks, but I've never been at home in my studio during that break.

My version of working in this world is not [stacking up sessions with] loads of different people every day. It's just not the groove I landed in. So once we were able to have access to testing, which we're fortunate to have in L.A.—and if it's somebody you know well enough that you feel like you can trust them, and there's transparency—then I was able to start getting back in the studio and do things the same way I'd ever done it. There’s fewer people hanging around, though, and it’s a little bit more focused.

At least a couple of the pandemic months have been occupied by surprise live recordings for artists that I have been working with. I did some work with The Killers on their new album. I did obviously a lot of work with HAIM on their last record. That's been the version of touring or promoting.

Why do you prefer working with fewer artists on longer projects?

I came into it from more of a conceptual, full album state of mind. At first, there wasn't even really an option beyond that.  Nobody I knew was even thinking about the idea of working with multiple producers or multiple co-writers. I don't think anyone would be able to afford that. It wasn't an option.

On top of that, the most influential music on me was always made that way too, whether it was hip-hop and a producer like J-Swift doing the whole Pharcyde record, or Dr. Dre doing full records too. Of course there's room for external people coming in to collaborate, but there's an overarching concept you're trying to achieve. It doesn't work by randomly working with different people and making a compilation album. That works for certain records, but it wasn't the kind of records that I think I’m at my peak working on.

For a full album, it's very easy to lose perspective and not really achieve what you necessarily wanted to or could have with a little bit more time and space, but there is control because it's lots of trial and error. So many songs change several times over the course of making an album. Sometimes the concept is found on the journey to making that album.

How do you choose how to divide your time in terms of who gets your attention in any given year?

A lot of it has to do with timing. If I commit to something, I'm in it. Unfortunately, [that means] I'm not available for other things and that's been weird and heartbreaking for me. At the same time, I've never really felt like I needed to work on everything that I like, or that I needed to work on everything, period. I'm so happy to be a fan of music and just listen to an album and not have gone through the hard work, and sometimes traumatizing work, of making that album. It's not a sport for me.

I want to work on things that I understand and I feel passionate about. Sometimes that's just not what people are looking for. When you talk about records where I've done a song or two, it's usually because they were just already making an album that way. Then they came to me and I felt either adventurous that day or I had an idea and there was some sort of reason or chemistry for doing it. Sometimes you want to try something you’ve never tried before. [That’s true of] Usher. I was a big fan, but I never really saw myself making that kind of music in the room with him, but I got asked. I was like, "I’ve got to give it a shot." I was really happy with it. "Climax" is a song that I'm very proud of being a big part of.

I mean, of all the songs to have taken a swing on, you walked away with a GRAMMY-winning cultural reset of a track.

Having been there, I attribute it to nothing less than just chemistry and luck and timing and the mood of everything, because it just happened. We didn't go in there with preconceived ideas. In fact, if I had any, they were incorrect. They were false. They [were just me being like], "Okay, I know what Usher sounds like," to hype myself up.

He really was instrumental in shutting the door on anything you could have expected from him. He was all about functioning on pure intuition, like, "Let's just roll, no ideas." He knew certain things [about what he wanted]: "I don't want it to be a four-on-the-floor track. I want to do something unexpected with you. That's why you're here." I was like, "Okay, oh shit."

It was a very different kind of experience than producing the Vampire Weekend album or the HAIM record. It's almost a completely different job. It's funny that you could be called a producer in both instances; it's such a vague term, in a way.

And yet you do take those single-song swings every now and then, and they seem to pay off. You just did it with The Chicks, who spoke so highly to me of you recently, on Gaslighter.

I had huge respect for the Chicks. Timing-wise, I was available, they were local, it was easy to accommodate the session. We just showed up and we talked. They probably told me a lot of what they told you. It's funny because the demo [of "For Her"] is very banging. Every reference they had was hard-hitting. We started to freestyle around the room and then me and Natalie [Maines] stayed there until midnight, putting together the framework of the song—a little bit of banjo and a little bit of fiddle, just to give it their identity. Then I handed over the stems to them and it was a year later and suddenly, I got asked for approval and I heard a very different version, which is interesting.

On the record, it was a very mellow, long, epic version. Ours was this three-minute, hard-hitting little gospel jam; it reminded me of Tom Petty, hip-hop, and gospel mashed up together. It goes to show how different each process can be.

Do you ever feel weird about leaving your work in someone else’s hands, not knowing what it’ll end up sounding like, if it ever even comes out?

It's so fun for me, really, because it's so interesting and so opposite of what I'm doing 364 days a year. By all means, I do love that. I don't feel like I'm a control freak. I feel like I have a point of view and I feel responsible when I'm hired to do something that that's what they're asking for. I'm here to give it. I'm also very interested in what the people I'm working with have to say and have to offer.

I feel like that's been really instrumental with HAIM and Vampire Weekend, where I give something, they give me something back, and we just keep going tit for tat. The result is far more elevated than either one of us could do on our own. We're pulling each other in different directions and it's fun. It's like a great game of basketball.

Where in the end, both teams win.

That's the idea—or both teams are at least better.

Let’s talk more about that HAIM record. What keeps you coming back to that creative well, three albums in?

They originally reached out to me because they saw my name on the credits of some of their favorite Cass McCombs songs. They also loved "Climax." They were like, "What?" Even though when I first heard them, I was like, "Woah, why me?" I think it was about exploration. They assumed that I was down for all of it and they were right. They were right that my influences and my interest is vast.

What people expected of them, at least for their first record, was based on their live shows—very straightforward rock. They just didn't have the means to expand on that yet when I met them. When I got to know them, they told me their influences ranged anywhere from the Eagles to Pharrell to Chaka Khan. They had a deep, deep, deep musical knowledge, and years and years of playing and studying and rhythmic abilities. It was this huge open canvas.

What's been really gratifying about working with them over the course of three albums is that things were moving so fast for them from the moment I met them. They were already touring and it just kept growing and growing; there was always a finite amount of time for work. That's okay. There wasn't not enough time, but you just hope that the next time, you can expand and go in a different direction and keep evolving. I had seen a glimpse of everything that everyone else has seen now, from "Forever" to "Summer Girl." I'd seen a snapshot of all of that on day one. The fact that we're talking about less than 40 songs or whatever it is? That's nothing. I feel like we could easily get to another three albums and still be exploring new territories.

You worked with Vampire Weekend on Modern Vampires Of The City, and you returned on Father Of The Bride. Is that another instance of you feeling like that’s a band with more to show the world with each album?

Why it worked out with us on Modern Vampires is because, without even having to think about it, I would never have any interest in trying to copy what they’d already done. I'm like, "Okay, let's explore," and that's exactly what they wanted too. They felt like they had already closed the chapter with the first record and Contra, and they wanted to break out of it.

We didn't make a conscious decision to go in and start working on the third record. They were fooling around. I think the process between production and writing is blurred when it's done in house. They’d started a lot of things, but had hit some sort of a wall. I had started to work on Rostam [Batmanglij]’s solo album after Contra came out. Then, at some point, just out of the blue, he was in town with Ezra. He called and asked if my studio was available, and would I be interested in coming and helping a little bit?

Without really knowing it, by the end of that first week, they had knocked down some barriers that they had felt. Then, we just kept going. Father of the Bride was very premeditated and also an experiment. I don't know that it was 100% clear that there would be a fourth album. People talk about how long that album took. It didn't really take that long. There was just a lot of time in between.

Without saying too much, again, it feels like the beginning of a new era. They had albums one, two and three, and then… I don't know. Now I feel like the process continues with potentially four, five, and six.

Am I to understand you’ve also been working with Sky Ferreira again?

Oh yeah.

This should come as no surprise to you, but fans are beyond eager for new Sky Ferreira music. We've been wondering where it is.

On some level, we never stopped. There was so much that was birthed out of that era of us working together. I can't exactly tell you what's going on internally over there, but I've wondered the same thing. I was always just on the tip of, "When you're ready, hit me up." When I met her, she was very young and she'd had a couple not great experiences trying to make music, trying to get what was inside of her out. I don't know that she had even fully formed a clear picture of what it was she was trying to get out of her.

The chemistry between us was good and we went on an exploration period. Out of that came, "Everything Is Embarrassing" and a couple early singles which clarified the direction of the album. We made that album, [Night Time, My Time], pretty quickly. Honestly, they were demos. After she had some time to sit with it, she realized that these "demos" were what she wanted, so it just came out like that.

I'm honored to be asked to be part of the next chapter. When Sky put out "Downhill Lullaby," I was super happy for her because I know what a struggle it was on the first record, and those previous singles, to find that sound. I know how much she had to fight against. There was an energy behind her but she just was never happy with the music. She was fighting the machine, in terms of like, "Oh, just sing this song this pop writer has written," you know what I mean?

Someone wanted her to be one type of artist, which isn't what she wanted for herself.

From my perspective, it's not such an evil idea. It's just...they believe in her as a personality, and they want to help her put music out. They can't make the music for her, so they can only help her by suggesting this or that. What she and I did together is not something that you can really plan… it was a bit abnormal. We just played around and found something that I thought was very unique and represented her, and she felt the same way.

It was honestly another chance meeting, but for her to feel empowered enough to go do something else and figure it out is really exciting. I also felt that way with Solange. We had done a lot of work together early on. We stayed close and she played me A Seat At The Table, and I was like, "Oh, my God, I'm so happy for you," because I could sense that that was something that she was trying to make early on. She played me songs that she'd done all by herself. She took her time and she found it. It's nothing that I could have done with her. That was her. I was excited for Sky on that level as well. I'm also happy to be called back in for this next chapter, and we have some stuff cooking. It's cool. It's exciting.

The work you did with Sky, and then later with Carly Rae Jepsen, really changed the ways people thought about quote-unquote "pop" music in the 2010s. Suddenly, the most uncool genre was cool again.

I've felt that, but you really only realize it in retrospect. When artists call you to work on their project, you start to wonder, "What are you looking for that we're doing over here in our other world?" Because when I was working with Dev Hynes on Blood Orange, and Sky on Night Time, My Time, and even HAIM on Days Are Gone, it really felt like the periphery of the mainstream. With HAIM, we felt high praise by artists like Taylor Swift. A lot of artists were really inspired by that first HAIM album, and Sky’s too, but you're just doing your thing. The fact that it made a little dent in pop music? It's crazy.

It just kept me honest, really. I worked very hard for those successes, but I feel fortunate to have the encouragement to just do my thing, to not be competing with other trends or producers, to not do something that is not authentically me. In those earlier days, everything felt like little stepping stones of encouragement and confidence, and achieving a slightly higher plane with every artist and every project.

With Carly, it wasn't like any of those songs were as big as "Call Me Maybe," but it seemed like her goal was to make something that felt more authentic to her—or at least authentic to her then-self. It achieved what it was trying to achieve, and introduced her to a new audience. All those things feel good. A lot of times, people just run through a Rolodex of producers who are just getting it done in this era, and that could be me. Really, what they're hoping for is more of the same, and for me to have success with doing this thing that we cooked up in the comfort of our own anonymous little home was a really fortunate thing for me because it encouraged me to just continue to explore and do my thing and be me.    

We’ve talked about building up newer artists. But how do you go into a room with someone like Madonna and not lose yourself in those sessions?

I'm fairly sure I lost myself that time.

Are you?

I mean, not in a bad way. I came into that session with Diplo, who I had a longstanding creative relationship with, which I'm also extremely fortunate for. When we first started working together, it could not be more bizarre [of a pairing]. That first Major Lazer record and some of the stuff we were doing early on was so left field, and the fact that he became such a go-to pop producer was so wild to me. That got us in the room with people like Madonna, but nobody was steering that ship other than Madonna.

I was just flipping through pages of her Sex book and reliving my youth and inspiration from her, with her. She's such a gracious, awesome person in real life. That was just a fantastic opportunity in this weird exercise of fantasy. It's so hard to have a clear perspective on her because she's just omnipresent. Her peers coming up were Michael Jackson and Prince, you know what I mean? It's totally insane. If you've seen her live, that's another experience altogether. Getting to know her, she's like a true eccentric, very smart and very knowledgeable. There's depth and real roots in stuff.

She's also just done it all. You get to a point where you don't know what to expect and it doesn't even matter. She's just continuing to create and add to her catalogue. Who's going to tell her no? I had ideas, but she's a strong personality. And you have to respect the legacy. I wasn't going to be the one to control what direction she went with it. She wasn't even asking me for that, to be honest. I was there to be part of a team of just helping her create and find a vision that she was comfortable with. My respect for her is more than enough to allow me to do just that.

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Curtis Waters

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With A New Single, "Freckles," And Upcoming Album 'Pity Party,' Curtis Waters' Year Only Gets More "Stunnin'"

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The TikTok-famous performer reflects on his smash-hit year and looks ahead to what's next
John Norris
GRAMMYs
Sep 1, 2020 - 9:04 am

Four years ago, a heavily depressed 16-year-old Nepali immigrant living in Calgary named Abhi Bastakoti was told by his grandmother to hang in there, because she had looked at his future, and had a feeling his life would take a turn. She even made a prediction: that her grandson's best year would come at age 20.

That’s the kind of woman you want picking your lottery numbers. Because four years later, only months after turning 20, Bastakoti’s ship came in. Under his artist name Curtis Waters, he became one of this challenging year’s breakout stars. When most of the world had gone into COVID quarantine, he expertly employed the viral powers of TikTok to tease out the impending release of "Stunnin'"—a sly, raunchy, hilarious and insanely catchy two-and-a-half minute collaboration with Canadian pals Harm Franklin and Declan Hoy that has, no cap, changed Waters' life.

The star-making powers of TikTok were on full display when those teasers caught fire, priming the pump for the May release of the song, which was a monster. "Stunnin'"s numbers lived up to its name: 700,000 streams a day by early summer; 70 million plays on Spotify alone as of late August; hundreds of thousands of TikTokers have posted their own clips to the song, including platform superstar Dixie D’Amelio; and an irresistible D.I.Y. music video featuring a tux-clad Curtis busting some moves and a cameo from his younger brother Albert has, to date, 11.6 million views.

To borrow one of "Stunnin'"s lyrics, Curtis busted quick, and sure enough, the labels came circling. Even before the song's release, based solely on the TikTok buzz, industry players waved lots of deals with lots of zeros. But rather than opt for a quick payout from people who, Waters sensed, were more interested in a dozen more "Stunnin'"s than in the totality of what he wanted to do as an artist, he and manager Chris Anokute (an industry vet, former A&R for Katy Perry and Joss Stone, and the founder of Young Forever Inc.) opted for a more artist-friendly license-only deal with BMG.

Waters soon proved himself much more than that one viral hit, with two summertime follow-up singles, each dramatically different from "Stunnin'"s horny flex. In June there was "System"—a pugilistic, electro-punk indictment of both music biz commodification of artists and the cancer of racial injustice that America was once again confronting with the killing of George Floyd; followed by July's "The feelings tend to stay the same," a shimmery, sentimental pop reflection on a college romance that had to end, with a misty, Wes Anderson-worthy video to match.

Now Curtis, who says he loves upending genres and "pushing boundaries," adds yet another chapter to an eclectic image, in the new single "Freckles." The first taste of Waters' upcoming album Pity Party is a bright and tender ode to a survivor, and it was the first song that made Anokute interested in working with Waters. The manager happened across it via an algorithm in February, when both "Freckles" and the entire album were briefly online (Pity Party was soon taken down, but gets its official release next month).

"I think it probably says more about me than 'Stunnin'' to be honest,” says Waters of "Freckles," which was born out of a friendship with a girl he met when he was in a mental hospital, and her determination to carry on in the face of numerous traumas. The artist's own mental health struggles have long informed his music. He's been making beats since he was 14, started making songs for himself a few years after that, and a visit to his Soundcloud page reveals plenty of earlier songs that vary wildly, from trap to straight pop-punk—including a first album, 2018’s Prom Night—which, despite being consistently upbeat and often funny, mine themes of depression, anxiety and inadequacy.

Waters was born in Nepal, moved to Germany at 4, Canada at 10 and North Carolina at 17, where in 2019 he was diagnosed as bipolar. That led to a slippery slope of over-medication and a sabbatical from college—a chapter of his life that will be chronicled on Pity Party. He hopes his candor about those struggles will reach other young people in similar situations, and it’s one topic we touched on with him over Zoom in mid-August. Also discussed: his conservative parents (academics with multiple degrees) and what they make of his rawer lyrics; the glory of the Smashing Pumpkins’ "1979"; the complexity of Curtis’ musical hero Kanye West; and Waters' challenging musical ambitions, which go far beyond "Stunnin'."

Congratulations, man! What a crazy last few months it's been for you, and what a year for it to happen in.

Thanks! It’s only been I guess, six months?

I saw you tweet the other day, "Usually I wake up so anxious but lately I have felt so f**king good, waking up every day excited to make music."

And I have been making a lot of music too!

In one of the Nepali papers this summer you said, "I see myself as more of a producer who knows how to make myself sound good," rather than a great singer or rapper.

Yeah. I only started making music for myself when I was 17, with vocals? But I’ve kind of finessed my way into knowing how to produce really well over the years. And I’m getting better at singing. I want to challenge myself to make more acoustic, stripped-down almost folk-type songs too. But so far it’s just been like—I wake up every day and I make like five beats a day. I’m just always working on stuff. So I don’t think I am an amazing singer by any means, but I think I’m—I kind of know how to write songs, and I know how to make cool stuff. You know what I mean?

Having a breakthrough year in this crazy pandemic year—it’s got to be great and a little weird. But you said your grandma predicted this would be the year for you back when you were 16?

Yeah. I was going through a really difficult time. I had left high school because of my depression. And I was just looking for hope. And I was talking to my mom, and my mom told my grandma without really telling me, and my grandma went and saw a fortune teller. And for years I wasn’t religious or superstitious, so it was hard for me to be like, "Oh, things are gonna work out one day.” But she said 20 will be the year where I start finding happiness, and things will really start looking up. It was always this like self-fulfilling prophecy where I was like working really hard to making sure something would happen by the age of 20. But then also knowing something would happen because my grandma said so.

Since "Freckles" is the new single, tell me about that one first and we'll work our way backwards. It was the first song Chris [Anokute] heard and made him want to work with you?

Yeah, a hundred per cent. I don’t think Chris ever really cared for "Stunnin'," to be honest. It’s not his type of song. Honestly, even for me "Stunnin'" is—it’s a fun song? But I don’t really listen to music like that most of the time. I mean, of course it’s been awesome for me because I get to live out my dreams. But "Freckles" was a song that I had my heart in.

You had posted "Freckles" online early this year, before "Stunnin',” along with the whole Pity Party album, and then took it down?

Yeah, from the very beginning I was like, "Okay I don’t have any industry connections, but I know my music and is gonna get slept on and I don’t know what to do about this. I made this entire album in my bedroom, mixed and mastered, everything, but I just don’t know how to get it out there." And you know I would send it to these A&Rs, these label people, and finally I was like, "F**k waiting." I knew in my heart it was amazing, thought people were gonna love it and whatever happens, happens. And it kind of did happen. Chris found me randomly, just really naturally because of a Soundcloud algorithm, he heard the record and just loved it so much.

"Freckles" is sweet, but there is this intense line about "Band-aids on your arm/ Your scars they remind me/ All that you’ve been through/ But you’re still here smiling." Is there a story behind it?

Yeah the whole album kind of started because I was in a mental hospital and I was diagnosed with bipolar [disorder], and then I came back home. And it relates because this girl I met in this mental hospital, I reconnected with her, maybe like six months after I came back home? And she was just telling me about traumatic things that were happening, but like the whole time we hung out, it was such a pleasant conversation. She was just so strong, and so happy. And so much happened in her life, but she still had such a positive mindset. She was like, "I’m gonna become a flight attendant," and she was just excited about her future.

And another girl was at the heart of your recent single "The feelings tend to stay the same"—which may be the most sentimental thing you’ve put out. Definitely a world away from "Stunnin'."

What’s interesting is for me, now—I’m sort of playing catch-up. Because people are finally hearing the stuff from the album, and I’m already thinking about what’s next, right? So people are discovering "The feelings tend to stay the same," whereas really that’s what I was feeling back like a year ago, when I wrote it. But that song is probably the best look into where I am most right now—emotionally.

And it’s got this great video out on a lake, in a field…

Yeah that was in the park around where I live. My brother’s in it, and my friend Fallon that I went to prom with in high school, and my friend Jailyn from college. So it was easy, because it was all friends.

Speaking of high school friends, I actually retweeted you recently when you talked about your love for the Smashing Pumpkins' "1979"— which is truly one of my favorite songs of all time.

Oh, I love that song!

So great. It’s such a quintessential teen-years song. I told [Billy] Corgan years ago that as far as I’m concerned that song is so perfect it would be like "Drop the mic, I’m done" after writing that.

I love that video too. I want to capture—that’s what I want my music to be. Like, what I feel when I listen to that, that’s what I want. It’s like—I know how to make beats, I know how to do this, right? But I’ve been making more stuff like that recently, for sure. Regardless of sonics and stuff, that’s the emotion I want to really hone in on.

You’ve been really open about your mental health and being diagnosed as bipolar. Do you still have high highs and low lows?

This year I’ve controlled it. I’ve controlled it way better. I mean I am a stable guy, for sure. But like when I was younger, it was really hard. Even when I was writing this album it was really hard. But at this point—I hope nothing goes wrong where I go completely off the track again? But I am in a good spot for sure, at this point.

No celebrity has been more open in recent months about his own bipolar condition than one of your personal musical heroes, Kanye West. What are your thoughts on his artistry, his openness about that side of his life and his more divisive political involvements?

It's hard. You idolize certain people, and then at the end of the day they're just like you. And that can sometimes be good, and other times you can realize they’re just as flawed, or just as incoherent, or they’re just winging it. I don’t know. All I can really say is I hope he finds happiness. I hope he finds stability. Sometimes I just feel like, none of this shit matters. Just be with your family, be happy, be healthy, you know? But he’s changed my life, with his honesty. And the thing about honesty is, you’re not always gonna like it, right? I don't agree with everything he says. I don’t support a lot of things he says. But I can’t ignore how much [he] impacted my way of thinking and my life, and how it liberated me, creatively and as a human, growing up.

Who knows if we would be here talking if it weren’t for "Stunnin'." So much has been said about the TikTok campaign. But what do you remember about that song coming together? It was your friend Declan [Hoy] who did the beats?

Yeah he sent me the original beat, and I played the chords on it, and I rapped on it, and I did the chorus and I rearranged it and all that stuff. Usually I make the beat, and finish everything myself. But this time I took what he sent me, made my version of it, and at first I—I kind of hated the song. [Laughs.] I sent it back, he was in the same city with my friend Harm Franklin, and he sent me his version back. I put Auto-Tune on it, mixed and mastered it, finished the song. And I just didn’t know what I was gonna do with it, because I was really trying to do songs more in the realm of "The feelings tend to stay the same," just reflecting all this stuff that I had been going through emotionally, right? And then I had "Stunnin'," which felt like a detour from where I was trying to go artistically. But, then corona happened, and so I was like, "Okay, no more sad music. Everyone’s already sad. Let’s cheer people up." So I teased it, saw the response, and then I was like, "Wow, okay. This is not a bad song. People love the song." It got such a crazy reaction. 'Cause usually the people who react to my music are a certain demographic, you know? I mean, I know who likes sad, emo pop-punk, whatever you wanna call the type of energy I’m on usually. And "Stunnin'" was a different energy, and it was like—not to say "normies," but the casual listeners were really in for it. So, you know, when it’s reaching the casual people that’s when you know, it’s like, "Okay. This is not just for me."

I thought of your now-infamous "Good p*ssy sound like pasta" line when Cardi B talked about hers being like "Macaroni in a pot" in "WAP"! You guys were in sync there!

Yes sir! Known fact! [Laughs.] But the thing about that is—the shit that I say in "Stunnin'"—that doesn’t have to be me. You know, I could be an actor in a movie and do all this crazy shit, and no one’s gonna be mad at me, because I’m acting, right? So I can just take on this dickhead character in a song, where I just say vulgar stuff. You know what I mean? But sometimes people message me like, "I can’t believe you said this!" And I’m like, "Why would you believe that—I'm not…! It’s just a fun song!" It’s entertainment.

But lines like that one, or "I can go slow or go faster, if I bust quick that’s a bastard"—you can play that stuff for your parents?

I don’t think they even understand most of what I’m saying. Uh…which allows me to get away with stuff? But there’s like an unspoken rule where, if there’s some lyrics that are questionable, we don’t talk about it? You know, they listened to "The feelings tend to stay the same" and they read the lyrics and they were like, "Yeah this is amazing" and they loved it and we talked about it. But we’ve never talked about "Stunnin'" lyrics and I hope we never do. [Laughs.]

This year alone you’ve shown a lot of variety. You think it’s reductive to call Curtis Waters just a hip-hop artist?

I don’t think any label is accurate. I don’t know what I am—I’m finding out every day. Some people will tell me "You’re a pop artist" or "You’re a hip-hop artist," you’re this, you’re that. I’m just a dude making stuff that I like every day. I mean the way I think about my albums is like, eras of Kanye, or eras of Tyler, the Creator. You know what I mean? I mean I am already thinking, "What is the next era?" And not even albums—even just songs. Those three songs—"System," "Stunnin'" and "The feelings…"? For me, those are completely different songs. I don’t know what genres they are. And I love that. You know, I want to keep doing that. I want to keep challenging, pushing myself, pushing whatever boundaries there are already. I feel like my music is not even weird enough right now. I want to get weirder!

Curtis Waters' "Freckles" is out now. His album Pity Party is set to drop Oct. 9.

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