Salvador Santana and Asdru Seirra

Photo by J.A. Moreno

News

Exclusive: Salvador Santana And Ozomatli’s Asdru Sierra Announce New Politically Charged Project RMXKNZ

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With the duo's debut album set to be released this fall, the Recording Academy has your first listen to their joyful debut track, “Canvas”
Crystal Larsen
GRAMMYs
Jul 18, 2019 - 8:01 am

If you look back on decade’s past, you could say that some of the most trying times, whether for an individual or an entire nation, have produced some of the best music. For renowned producers, songwriters and musicians Salvador Santana (son of GRAMMY-winning guitarist Carlos Santana) and Asdrubal "Asdru" Sierra (lead vocalist, trumpeter, and pianist for GRAMMY winners Ozomatli), who have announced a new collaborative project titled RMXKNZ (pronounced "remix-icans") and will release their first album this fall, the point of inspiration was the turbulent aftermath of the 2016 U.S. presidential election. 

But what listeners shouldn't expect from the forthcoming self-titled, self-released album, due to drop during National Hispanic Heritage Month later this year, is a set of songs lamenting the state of the country. Instead, the songs on RMXKNZ serve to uplift, make you dance and inspire action. Santana and Sierra are using their new artistic platform not just to call out those to blame for the current contentious climate of society, but as a call-to-action for those who believe we can be the change we want to see.

The first song on the album, and the duo’s first-ever original song, "Canvas," is a funky, jazzy, hip-hop-tinged danceable track featuring the notable sound of Sierra’s trumpet that sounds like a call-to-action itself. Through the lyrics on "Canvas," the duo encourage listeners to look at their lives as a blank canvas with which they can design who they want to be. The coinciding music video further enhances the song's message, depicting the lively Latinx neighborhoods of East L.A. and Downtown Los Angeles and addressing the issues that affect it: women’s and abortion rights, LGBTQ+ rights, immigration rights, gender inclusivity and more.

“What we wanted to do was [not] just talk about the obvious and create more problems. … We decided that…we want to just wake people up to what is going on,” says Santana.

“Everyone has a blank canvas when they walk into this world,” adds Sierra. “You could draw on it and that’s what your world becomes. It’s really about walking the walk of what you believe. About being the change.”

The songs on the genre-blending debut address the issues that continue to affect the diverse communities of the duo’s city of residence—Los Angeles—including immigration, racism, social injustice, identity and humanity. As Santana and Sierra would say, RMXKNZ is music for the world.   

In an exclusive interview with the Recording Academy, Santana and Sierra discuss the making of RMXKNZ, the inspiration behind the songs and for whom the songs were written. Listen below for an exclusive first listen of the debut track "Canvas."

Let’s start from the beginning of RMXKNZ. How did you guys meet?

SALVADOR SANTANA: We met in 1999 on the Supernatural tour when Ozomatli—Asdru’s band—was touring with my father. It was in the summer, so, since I was in high school, I could go out and hang out with dad and the band. I got to meet Ozomatli, which, at the time—and still now—I was a huge fan of. … Meeting Asdru, and … just everybody that was part of Ozo, it felt like reuniting with a long-lost family. … From day one Asdru has been like an older brother to me.

ASDRU SIERRA: I remember being really young and my wife was pregnant with our first son. Obviously, there was a lot of fear and a lot of wondering what it was going to be like. A lot of [my] anxieties got calmed down when at the Gorge [Amphitheatre in Washington] I saw Sal when he was a teenager sitting in with his dad onstage. I was like, "Wow, that’s cool." … Everybody in the band had families and every time they would see us like all young in our early and mid-20s about to have babies—I guess we looked like babies to them—they all had their turn sitting us down and talking to us and letting us know what it’s like. And just helping us out.

It was actually Sal that introduced Ozomatli to his dad. He showed him the demo and that’s how we ended up hooking up with Carlos. It was all meant to be. Every time we work together, it’s like working with family.

It sounds like it was really an instant connection with you guys. How did the conversation start to work on the RMXKNZ project?

SS: It all just kind of happened organically and naturally. When I first moved into my house that I live in now—it was my new place—Asdru came over and we hung out. I just showed him what I was trying to build—my home studio and everything.

He was like, “Yo, man. I got these couple of demos that I’m working on. I think it’d be really dope if you mixed it up with some lyrics and piano stuff. Just put your fingerprints on it.”

The first song we wrote happens to be the first single, which is "Canvas." And he just played me the beat and I was just nodding my head. For Asdru and I, it either has to make [people] get up and dance. … Or it’s got to have that head nod factor. If you don’t want to dance, then you have to nod your head. So, if it doesn’t have any of those two ingredients, we don’t mess with it. Because it’s just not going to do anything for us, and that’s how we built our sound sonically was between those two things. And it started with "Canvas."

The songs on the album sound very happy and uplifting. Lyrically, there’s huge stories behind every song. What was the impetus for a lot of the songs? What was "Canvas" about and what’s the story behind that?

SS: Lyrically, at the time when we first started writing a lot of [the album], it was during and around the time of the 2016 elections. So, there was a lot on our minds. … We felt like we wanted to express how we were feeling, musically and lyrically.

But [we also wanted to keep] it palatable and not be too preachy. [We wanted to] make people dance. And if you don’t want to dance then just listen to the lyrics. Hopefully they uplift … and rearrange the narrative. At the end of the day, when people put on the record, we just want people to enjoy what we were able to create. 

AS: Watching in 2016, how the world is in that moment, instead of really having a fighting spirit about it, let’s have a realization moment, and understand that we have to be the change that we want to see in the world. … It’s us walking the world as an example for our children. That’s the best thing we can do is just to be that change even though things are a little crazy. Unless you’ve been living under a rock for a lifetime, it’s always been that struggle. It’s always been there. It’s just now there’s somebody out there that’s pretty blatantly being that way and it’s emboldening the evils that are in the world. The divisions rather than the similarities. 

We can put on the canvas the compassion that people need to remember and need to have for humanity before we start dehumanizing everything that we don’t understand. 

SS: We’re all blank canvases when we come to this planet. We’re born here. We have the opportunity to create exactly who we are. To define who we are with our canvases. … The key is to not allow anybody else to paint on your canvas and define who you are. … For us, what was inspiring about the elections and what was going on around that time … was that Asdru and I realized that it’s not about trying to control others, it’s about influencing. And what better way to influence than through music and through uplifting lyrics. 

It’s for the people. It’s for everybody out there that wants a positive distraction from all the craziness that’s going on.

There’s a song on there, "Make it Betta." It sounds like a call-to-action, like you’re giving people tools through music for how they can do their own part to make the world a better place. How do you think each of us can do our own part to make sure the future canvases that come into this world aren’t corrupt or negative, but peaceful and loving?

SS: Basically, we walk around with this flame. And every single person that we meet has a pilot light. Some people’s pilot lights are out. It’s not that they’re lost or forgotten. It’s just the pilot light is out. And they just need to be ignited. And that’s our job. Especially on songs like "Make it Betta." We’re not trying to tell people what to do. We’re just reminding them of what their purpose is and what we’re all here to do, collectively. And what better way to do that than through music? Through uplifting and conscious lyrics. That was our overall mindset with creating this whole album and that song in particular. 

AS: Martin Luther King [Jr.] had this quote about people that know that something is wrong, and they stay in silence just letting it happen without saying anything. …  The best way we can make it better is to be those lights in darkness. To speak up when these things are happening. It doesn’t necessarily mean to go out there and cause a fight. It’s not about fighting. But to hold accountable everything that we see in this world. If that means speaking up, that’s fine. Just let evil know that you see it because only the ugliest things happen in darkness. 

"Martin Luther King [Jr.] had this quote about people that know that something is wrong, and they stay in silence just letting it happen without saying anything. …  The best way we can make it better is to be those lights in darkness. To speak up when these things are happening."

I want to switch gears and talk about each of your upbringings. Sal, you were raised in San Francisco. And Asdru, you were raised in Los Angeles. How do you think the environment of the cities in which you were raised shaped the music you’re making today with RMXKNZ?

SS: I was always encouraged to just understand as much as you possibly can. There’s not just one culture. It’s one world but there’s so many people and cultures and beautiful things that people offer and make up, musically and sonically. For both Asdru and I, both in Los Angeles and San Francisco Bay Area, we just heard pretty much about everything. It’s not that we gravitated toward one music or one style or one sound, we just took a little bit from each so that we could create our own sound. And I think that’s what makes our album and collaboration so unique because you hear all of the sounds and music that inspired Asdru and I from all the cultures that make up both the San Francisco Bay Area and Los Angeles.

AS: I grew up in Glassell Park in L.A. It was a small town in Northeast L.A. But I was there in the '80s before all the gentrification and everything now. Back in those days there was a lot of gang violence, there was a lot of drugs, there was a lot of poverty, but for the most part it was like maybe 10 percent of the population was about the gangs. When you would watch the movies, it was everything else. On my block everyone was a hardworking homeowner. Latinos just trying to make the best they can in the world we lived in. But again, there was a lot of gang influences and that was something that we as a community tried to deal with, you know?

Through my community, that is what defines what I do with music. … It’s a trip because in my world when I was a kid there was a lot of things going on. But the only thing that I saw was a battleground. … I saw a lot of people get shot. I guess because we’re minorities it didn’t really matter to the news or something. But with that said, it’s all these neighborhoods in L.A. that the only way that I could speak up about it was with music. 

Other than preaching to the converted or singing to the same choir, we have to let somebody in the middle of America know what’s going on. The best way that I know how to do it is with music. Just to let them know that it’s just a stereotype they’re seeing. … There are a bunch of people that were cartoonists, that were artists, that were actors, that were people. What happened to the children of all these gang members? What kind of journey did they go through? The immigrants. It doesn’t always look like they’re out there trying to get your jobs. Other people are just trying to escape from whatever craziness is going on in the countries that they’re in and seeking asylum. There’s so many things going on in this world and the best way that I know how to explain it is by that same canvas. That same music. At the end of the day, I’m ultimately trying to reach the people that don’t understand it.

SS: [We want to] reach out to those that need to be woken up. They’re still asleep. They need to be awake to understand what we’re talking about. But also, to acknowledge those that want to say, what we have the opportunity to say with our platform, with our microphone and with our studio and with our ability to be able to express that.

Would you consider yourselves activists before musicians, or vice versa?

AS: I know activists. I know real ones that dedicate their lives to it. I play a little guitar but I’m not an activist. I like to say that I have been active. As activists, [people] have died, they’ve been shot at, they’ve been beaten by clubs by the police. … As a member of the human race I had to be involved somehow. When real activists would actually call me to support the cause I would show up. But it’s hard to call myself an activist. 

SS: Being an activist is not a part-time gig. You’re either in it or you’re not in it. For me, it’s just about being a musician and supporting activists that we know. … So as opposed to necessarily calling us activists, we are of service to those in the community to be of service.

We’re going to continue through our music to just wake people up and make sure that they stay woke because that’s really what it is at the end of the day.

The activists you’re talking about that are out there doing the work full-time need people like you who have the platform to be able to continue to spread that message in a different way.

SS: Exactly. Both of my grandfathers and Asdru’s were living in a different time and era where it was illegal just to be who you were. The skin tone, where you come from, and how you immigrated here. It was illegal just to be you and that is just crazy to me. For me at the end of the day that’s why I’m just so grateful to be able to use our platform, our talent, our passion, which is music, to be able to express and abolish that old way of thinking.

AS: We answered the call to arms. We show up at the marches. But calling ourselves activists, there’s a certain humility about that.

SS: We’re musicians that aspirer to inspire. That’s who we are.

What’s the meaning behind the name RMXKNZ?

AS: If you look at who we are—both Sal and I—we’re of Mexican descent. [But also] there’s Irish in my family. I have freckles. And obviously Salvador has African-American in him. Mexico is very similar to the U.S. in many ways. It’s not just the natives who are the original Mexicans. … It kind of plays into wordplay about doing remixes and stuff and the fact that we’re Mexicans, with the "mix." It kind of makes sense. The world is a lot bigger and smaller at the same time. 

SS: It’s paying homage to who we are and highlighting who we are. But at the same time, it’s also leaving room for how we’ve evolved. We’re not just Mexican. We’re a little bit of this; we’re a little bit of that. It shows in the music. It shows where we come from and our upbringing.

AS: We also don’t want to limit ourselves either, just because we’re of Latino/Mexican/Latinx decent. Just because we’re that doesn’t mean we only do Latin things. It could be from Africa. It could be from the Middle East. It could be Mongolian. 

It sounds like that ties in to what you were saying earlier about educating people. Letting them know there’s many different types of people all over the world. 

SS: We didn’t mean to, but I think in making this record, we stumbled upon a new genre of music. So, when people say, "What type of music is RMXKNZ?" Asdru and I, we play life. It’s life music. All the music that is in our lifetime that we have loved and just continued to dance to, nod our heads to, inspire to. Is life cumbia? Yeah. Is life Afrobeat? Yeah. Is life hip-hop? Yeah, it’s all that stuff. That’s what we play.

You’re calling this music for the people. It’s heavily influenced by the current climate of society. Who did you write these songs for?

AS: For me, and I think this resonates for Sal, everything we do echoes back to our children. Whatever we want to change is what we want to do. For me, I just want to create a world in which my children can live comfortably long after I’m gone.

SS: When my son was born, I literally watched the future being born. And like what Asdru’s saying, it makes us now as parents realize, man we gotta set up the future right. We gotta make sure we teach these kids right so that they’re good for whatever they’re going to encounter in the future. To make sure that they know that they can have either control or especially influence in what happens in the future. For me, that’s what it’s all about. 

Salvador Santana and Asdru Sierra are involved with the following causes and non-profit organizations: Change.org petition, and Letters of Love to Kids, along with Al Otro Lado and Haitian Bridge Alliance, two groups at the forefront of the crisis at the U.S.-Mexico border.

Jennifer Lopez circa 2000

Jennifer Lopez

Photo: WireImage.com

Feature

1999: The Year Latin Pop Conquered America

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1999 saw an unprecedented dominance of Latin pop sounds in American music, opening the public's ears to multilingual songwriting
Brian Haack
GRAMMYs
Oct 6, 2017 - 3:15 pm

The U.S. music scene in 1999 saw an unprecedented surge in the popularity of Latin pop.

Hispanic artists and various elements of Latin sounds dominated the charts to such an extent that by the end of the year even artists with no Latin heritage to speak of were looking to capitalize on the movement by recording Spanish-language versions of their singles in hopes of activating the crossover market.

Sure, there were prior Latin crossover rumblings — remember Dru's Hill's 1998 Latin-inflected Top 3 hit "How Deep Is Your Love" from Rush Hour? But most argue that it all started with Ricky Martin.

Ricky Martin

"It was completely sudden, and it had a lot to do with Ricky. After his performance at the GRAMMYs, everyone was on alert, so to speak, and expecting his new album. The first hit, of course, was "Livin' La Vida Loca" with that sensational video. I think that was the beginning." — Leila Cobo, executive director of Latin content and programming, Billboard

As a young man, Martin came to prominence between the ages of 12 and 17 as a member of the GRAMMY-nominated boy band Menudo. The Puerto Rico native was also a successful actor and solo recording artist before he burst onto the U.S. music scene in 1999. In the '90s, he acted in TV series such as "General Hospital" and "Getting By," telenovelas and stage plays, and he'd released four successful Spanish-language albums.

Martin won his first career GRAMMY — Best Latin Pop Performance for Vuelve — at the 41st GRAMMY Awards in 1999, but it was his show-stopping performance of "La Copa De La Vida" that same year that made it clear something big was on the horizon.

Martin's "Livin La Vida Loca" was released one month after his spectacular GRAMMY performance, and quickly became his first-ever No. 1 charting single, holding the top spot on the Billboard Hot 100 for five consecutive weeks. 

The singer's self-titled fifth solo album — his English debut — was released two months later, and hit No. 1 on the Billboard 200 almost immediately. The most successful album of Martin's career, it has gone on to sell well over 15 million copies worldwide. Needless to say, 1999 was a big year for the Puerto Rican pop star.

Leila Cobo, executive director of Latin content and programming for Billboard, was working as Miami Herald's pop music critic at the time, recalls one event that served as an interesting tell sign.

"I went to cover [the signing] and found a line of hysterical girls at 11 a.m. on a school day that went on for blocks," she says. "I had never seen anything like this, ever."

Writing for Billboard roughly a month after "Livin La Vida Loca" hit store shelves, Michael Paoletta, now executive producer, A&R and music supervision for Comma Music, commented prophetically, "In the weeks since [the GRAMMYs], it seems like every record label exec has been in a heated search for the next Latin hottie."

Jennifer Lopez

Jennifer Lopez had worked as a successful dancer and actress during the '90s, notably appearing as a Fly Girl on Keenan and Damon Wayans' sketch comedy and variety show "In Living Color." In 1997 Lopez earned a huge breakthrough in the leading role as GRAMMY-winning Tejano singer Selena in the titular biopic about her life and tragic death. The Bronx native's performance in the film was lauded by critics and fans alike, putting her in the entertainment spotlight and at the same time making her ripe to become the breakout female star to help propel the Latin pop movement.

Lopez's debut single, "If You Had My Love," was released in May 1999, just a week before Martin's self-titled album hit the shelves, arriving at the perfect time to sate the appetites of stateside listeners. The single climbed to the top of the Billboard Hot 100 and became one of the best-selling singles in the U.S. for 1999. Lopez's first studio album, On The 6, released a few weeks later, also skyrocketed, debuting at No. 8 on the Billboard 200 and ultimately earning triple-platinum status.

"Waiting For Tonight," the second radio single from On The 6, would go on to be nominated for Best Dance Recording at the 42nd GRAMMY Awards.

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The same month that saw Lopez release On The 6 also saw another well-established Latin pop star blow up in the U.S.

Enrique Iglesias

Enrique Iglesias had previously won his first GRAMMY for Best Latin Pop Performance for his first self-titled 1995 studio album. The Spanish singer also came from an impressive musical pedigree, being the son of GRAMMY-winning Latin pop crooner Julio Iglesias.

"Bailamos," the junior Iglesias' inaugural English language release, was selected for the 1999 blockbuster action flick Wild Wild West, thanks in part to a request from GRAMMY winner Will Smith. The single would top the Billboard Hot 100 and become an immense success, eventually selling more than 5 million copies worldwide.

Almost certainly the biggest success story of the 1999 Latin pop explosion, however, was to be the eponymous band led by then-52-year-old guitar god Carlos Santana.

Santana

"We connected with hip-hoppers. … We connected with middle white America, we connected with Latin America, Africa, Asia, Australia. It's like the Champs-Elysées in Paris: This CD is connected to all the streets." — Carlos Santana on Supernatural, 1999

When Santana's 17th studio album, Supernatural, was released in 1999, the group had been playing live together for longer than the likes of Martin, Lopez and Iglesias had been alive. The album's lead single, "Smooth," featuring Matchbox 20's Rob Thomas, was an absolute phenomenon that year. It spent an astonishing 12 weeks in the No. 1 spot on the Billboard Hot 100, marking Santana's first chart-topping song.

For The Record: Carlos Santana

Supernatural would net Santana a total of eight GRAMMYs at the 42nd GRAMMY Awards, including Album Of The Year and Best Rock Album, with "Smooth" taking home Record Of The Year, Song Of The Year and Best Pop Collaboration With Vocals. Commercially, Supernatural would eventually sell more than 30 million copies worldwide, making it one of the best-selling albums of all time. Due to its equally strong chart performance, "Smooth" would be the final song of the decade to stand atop the Hot 100.

The Latin GRAMMY Awards

Following the incredible explosion of Latin pop music in 1999, the year 2000 heralded the inception of the Latin GRAMMY Awards, hosted by the Latin Recording Academy, which was established in 1997 as a counterpart to the Recording Academy.

Nuyorican Marc Anthony would become the first artist to take home the inaugural Latin GRAMMY for Song Of The Year, Record Of The Year and Best Male Pop Vocal Performance for "I Need To Know (Dímelo)," from his Top 10 1999 self-titled album.

While some later argued that the 1999 Latin explosion was a brief high-gloss blip on the pop culture radar, its impact cannot be underestimated. The 2000s and beyond have seen a steady stream of Latin artists dent the Billboard charts — including Shakira, Juanes, Luis Fonsi, J Balvin, and Nicky Jam, among others. The past year has seen the continuing dominance of Latin sounds in the modern pop scene, with crossover hits such as Fonsi and Daddy Yankee's "Despacito" serving as but one example.

And the Latin GRAMMY Awards has emerged as The Biggest Night in Latin Music, honoring top Latin music talent and featuring top-shelf performances that thrill millions worldwide — a testament to the staying power of Latin music.

"To have a song in Spanish, and to be in the top of the Hot 100, that's something that rarely happens," Fonsi told CNN regarding "Despacito." "I'm just very proud that Latin music has grown so much and people are just really connecting to it."

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

News

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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Julia Jacklin 

Photo: Scott Legato/Getty Images

News

Folk-Pop Performer Julia Jacklin Says The Best Songs Are The Ones "Artists Needed To Make For Themselves"

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The singer's sophomore album, 'Crushing,' showcases her best work yet
Jennifer Velez
GRAMMYs
Oct 17, 2019 - 3:53 pm
Australian singer/songwriter Julia Jacklin's voice alone could capture a room. Her two albums, Don't Let The Kids Win and Crushing, showcase a vulnerable set of folk-pop songs that are equal parts energetic and melancholy.
 
In Crushing, her sophomore album, Jacklin creates a body of work about relationships, romance and breakups that reflects one of the greatest things failed partnerships can give us: a sense of self. In "You Were Right," she's come out the other side stronger, proclaiming: "Started listening to your favourite band/ The night I stopped listening to you./ You were always trying to force my hand/ But now I'm listening because I want to ... You were right, I liked it/ You were wrong, I was a good friend."
 
 
Though sophomore albums can make or break an artist, Jacklin shows her best work yet. Despite the rave reviews, her own approval is what really matters to her. 
 
"I'm proud that I've made an album that I really like because I think that's very hard to do," she tells the Recording Academy. "You know, I think as artists we overthink things and we're our harshest critics and it's really easy to make something that resonates with other people, but you yourself don't."
 
Jacklin spoke to the Recording Academy after her set at Austin City Limits 2019 about the experiences behind the songs on Crushing, the aspects of being a rising musician that some may not understand, her creative process and more. 
 

What do you like about festivals so far?

The catering's really good. The acts are really good. Lot of women playing, which is great. Yeah, it's a good festival.

Crushing is a very honest album and you cover a lot of personal things. What mindset were you in writing the songs?
 
Yeah, I don't know. Just, it's pretty evident I think if you listen to the record where I was at. 
 
"Head Alone" stands out to me. It sounds like it's about about learning to place physical boundaries. Is that accurate?
 
I guess that song is kind of more about interactions that you have even with friends and with fans. I think being a musician you're constantly in very small spaces with lots of people. I guess if people think that you're for the taking as an artist, then they also feel a bit like they can touch you a lot.
 
But, no, for me that song was more about just like feeling very suffocated and just feeling like of in every aspect of my life like the walls were closing in a little bit. 
 
I think that's a very interesting perspective because I know that Justin Bieber at some point stopped doing fan meet and greets because it was just getting to be a lot for him and he needed to focus on his mental health. I don't think fans and people in general really understand what it's like to come in contact with so many people every day. 
 
Yeah. [They] tell you very heavy things. I mean I'm obviously not as famous as Justin Bieber, but I think [it happens] at every level if someone connects with your music. I've done this when I was younger as well, where you feel like you know the person very well, so if you do come in contact with them you already have this relationship with them and probably feel a bit more comfortable to physically kind of touch them or you know. But the artist doesn't know who you are. 
 
But that song is not about that, really. It was just more just about how in tiny interactions I had with men in my life, just feeling like I was being treated differently than my male counterparts.
 
What are you most proud of in regards to the album?
 
Probably just that I'm proud that I've made an album that I really like because I think that's very hard to do. I think as artists we overthink things and we're our harshest critics and it's really easy to make something that resonates with other people but you yourself don't. After a while, you feel self-conscious about it or you just wish you'd changed it or done things differently. It helps to tour the world and be away from friends and family and any stability in honor of a record at least I really like. If I didn't like it I'd be like, "Ooh, is this worth it?" 
 
Do you feel pressure at all to write radio hits?
 
I feel a tiny bit of pressure for that, but not really. I'm like a low-key singer focusing as a songwriter. I write all the songs myself. I'm not really searching for big pop stardom. So it doesn't really apply to my world, I think. But I can see that a lot of other people feel that pressure and get a lot of flack from their labels and their managers and stuff to try and make things more radio-friendly. But not me.
 
How do you create music? Do you come up with a melody first, or you write the song?
 
It's different every single time. I think every artist who gets asked that question, which we all do, it's just like there's no good answer. Sometimes it can be the words first. Sometimes it's the melody. I think if I had a method it would be a lot less stressful. But usually you're kind of waiting for inspiration to strike you.
 
In your opinion, what makes a good song?
 
I don't know. It's always so different, isn't it? I think if the artist is being authentic and that doesn't mean that they have to be telling the truth in their songs, it just means that they're coming from a place of integrity and they are fully backing what they're doing. I think any form or structure of a song can be incredible. As long as the artist is not pandering to current trends or trying to please other people. I think the best songs are always just ones that the artists needed to make for themselves. And then it's just a bonus that it resonates with other people.
 
There are a lot of high-profile female artists collaborating with each other lately, like the Highwomen, and even starting music fests featuring an all-female lineups, like Lykke Li's YOLA Día. What do you think about that movement?
 
I don't see it as a movement at all. I just see it as the world the way that it's going. You know, I think that it was just inevitable that women realize that they are locked out of these structures and that after hearing so many times like, "Oh, sorry you can't headline this festival because you're not going to sell enough tickets." Which is just ridiculous. They were just like, "No, screw this. [We're] going to start our own festivals then."
 
Yeah, I think every woman is sick of hearing about why there aren't more women headlining festivals when right now women are killing the game. Which is great about ACL because there's been some great female headliners to this festival. I've been doing three months of festivals and it's pretty rare.
 
I think a lot of my friends and other female singer-songwriters, you have to stick together a bit. You try and exist and operate within these structures, but they weren't built for us. They're not run by us, and so therefore they don't cater to us or serve us well. So it's like, you just figure it out. You have to team up, you know, power in numbers.

The Darkness

Photo by Simon Emmett

News

The Darkness' Justin Hawkins On 'Easter Is Cancelled,' Lying All The Time & Taking Advice From Todd Rundgren

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The swaggering frontman expands on the ideas behind the U.K. rock heroes' sixth studio album, learning to take care of his voice and staying anonymous in Switzerland
Rachel Brodsky
GRAMMYs
Oct 8, 2019 - 4:59 pm

Most will remember U.K. camp-rock maestros The Darkness from their early aughts days with lead singer Justin Hawkins croon-chanting, "I believe in a thing called love: JUSTLISTENTOTHERHYTHMOFMYHEART!" Well, the quartet have been steadily producing records since their rollicking 2003 debut, Permission To Land, save for a hiatus between 2006 and 2011. 

These days, Hawkins, his brother and guitarist Dan, bassist Frankie Poullain and drummer Rufus Tiger Taylor are fresh off of releasing their sixth studio album, the impishly titled Easter Is Cancelled, which, according to Hawkins, came from his going down a rabbit hole of savior-themed "what ifs."

"Let's imagine a universe when Jesus decides on the day of the crucifixion that he's not having that after all and he's going to use his supernatural God-attributed gifts to escape," he tells the Recording Academy over the phone. "And then I suppose the thinking is, what kind of world is it after that? Is there poverty? I suppose nobody else would get crucified either. I think that that that'd probably be the last time anybody's crucified. And that's just a kickoff."

Below, Hawkins delves further into the ideas behind Easter Is Cancelled, the current state of rock and roll ("there's a real appetite for quality rock; there just isn't any quality rock") and why the Darkness, despite the viral nature of their debut single, will never be in the business of creating "content."

How does Easter Is Cancelled stand apart from your previous work?

Well, the last studio album was our first foray into writing with Rufus [Tiger Taylor] as a legit member of the band. And so a lot of the stuff on that last record is just us trying to have fun and all of us are accepting things that we don't think are necessarily world-beatingly brilliant, but they're fun to play and it is good for the relationship. And it was a good document that shows where we were at that time, but I think this one is all of us going, "Right, f**k, we're going to make something amazing and we won't stop until we've done that." And I think that comes across. We really did not compromise on anything. If one person had anything vaguely negative to say about any part of any song, it just disappeared, never to be seen again, locked in the vault to be used as a BBC Sports theme at some point in the future.

We spent eight months doing that and came up with an album that doesn't sound, to me anyway, doesn't sound self-indulgent. Or if it does, it sounds self-indulgent in the right away. It doesn't sound like we've become an elfin tribe, it still sounds like a rock record.

I read some interviews that you did while preparing to release the previous record. There was some commentary about how it sounded a little bit harder rock, more metal. And I didn't really get that impression from the sound on this album.

You know what? I think the reality is that I just say words and I don't always mean [them]. I met somebody recently who just looked at me and said, "You lie all the time, don't you?" I was like, "Yeah, thanks." I love somebody who appreciates what I really do.

It's hard in promo because I didn't know what to say about the last record, really. And also, I think your perception of it's a little bit different when you've been working on it closely. I think I was probably referring to “Japanese Prisoner Of Love.” I probably had that in my head, thinking, "Oh, yeah. This'll be heavier than we normally do, isn't it?"

Well, I do think your fan base enjoys how the Darkness leans into the campier side of rock, never appearing to take yourselves too seriously. But a lot of the themes and the ideas on Easter Is Cancelled are more serious. And in the promotional materials, you talk about how you have a responsibility to change the establishment. Do you see your role in the industry differently now than you used to?

Well, I saw a talk that Todd Rundgren did a few years ago, and I love Todd Rundgren's music and I wanted to see him and talk about music. And he said something that really stayed with me: it was that music used to be a product and then now it's a service. And I think that just sums it up, doesn't it? We've all regressed to being minstrels at the beck and whim of whoever is going to pay enough... I don't know what the currency would be, doubloons, enough doubloons to buy the puffy trousers that we want. And that's a long-term effect. You've got Coldplay with the puffy trousers because they're getting all the doubloons and then we'd probably be somewhere down the long tail eating mud. And that's the reality of that status and also the nature of the music trade. The last concern of the whole infrastructure is, "how is the musician going to make money?" Who cares?

You guys kind of came up at a time when musicians made money in arguably a more straightforward way, via album sales. But you've been around long enough now to see the economics shift and change. Have you had to change the way you monetize yourselves as musicians?

We've refused to [change]. We've gone through a few different managerial changes. We can't get our heads around the concept of "content," and we're not interested in doing that.

As vacuous and as daft and as whimsical as I seem, I am actually quite a serious person when it comes to the arts, and I feel like making albums is what I grew up wanting to do and doing YouTube videos of some people farting or whatever it is, I'm not interested in that and I'm not interested in Instagram, Twitter annoys me. I understand why in order to monetize your existence as a musician you need to have a firmer sense of ownership from your fans, but that offends me. You know?

I feel like you're supposed to be free to express stuff, not just be what your fan base wants you to be, because you should be a viable artistic entity even if it means losing your fan base. You should always run that risk and you should never be afraid of it. I feel like making an album is like painting a picture. That simple, isn't it? It's like somebody says, "People aren't buying pictures anymore. What they're buying is some Etch-A-Sketches that have been varnished." What kind of person puts down the paintbrush in that instance and then starts Etch-A-Sketching? And the answer is somebody who isn't a true artist, somebody shouldn't be f**king holding a paintbrush in the first place. They should be, I don't know, doing something else.

Doubling back for a second, can you elaborate on what actually led to the name Easter Is Cancelled? 

It came about because I was asked to do some poems and write down all of my lyrics over the years and make a book, which would be a stocking stuffer for the hardcore Darkness fan. I wasn't that interested in doing it because I like singing songs. I don't like doing books. Never done a book before, not that interested in doing it, really. So I just said, "I'm writing an album. Can we do this next year or something?" And they went, "Well, what about Easter?" And then, "You can do an Easter poem." I was like, "Okay." And I wrote, "Wishing you Easter pleasure that you cannot measure with a ruler bula bula." And I just sent it off and I got an email back from my manager saying, "Easter is cancelled."

That was how that started. And then I thought, "Well, Easter is cancelled. Let's have a think about that." And I did an internet search for "buff Jesus" and I found a Boris Vallejo piece of artwork with a buff Jesus broken down from the cross and I thought, "Well, why stop there?" Let's imagine a universe when Jesus decides on the day of the crucifixion that he's not having that after all and he's going to use his supernatural God-attributed gifts to escape. And then I suppose the thinking is what kind of world is it after that? Is there poverty? I suppose nobody else would get crucified either. I think that that that'd probably be the last time anybody's crucified. And that's just a kickoff.

Have you gotten any pushback from religious types?

[Yeah], I was disappointed when people assumed that it was intended to shock. Because I feel like if it's 2019 and then the thing that you're shocked about is a rock band misappropriating some religious iconography that's been around since f**k knows when, then you need to close your laptop and have a look around you. It's mental. It's mental to be upset about that kind of stuff, and I never considered for a second it would shock anybody. And I think most people claim not to be shocked, but only to be disappointed.

And then I just have to ask, well, what were you hoping for, then? Were you hoping for, for example, a rehash of Appetite For Destruction where there's the four faces of The Darkness on a cross? Because that's still a cross. Or were you hoping for Easter Is Cancelled written on a bin lid or wherever it was that Slippery When Wet was? Because the actual artwork is too racy or do you want a piece of something that's from the band and expresses an idea? What do you want? What do people want? I think nine times out of 10, the answer is they want the band to be expressing themselves, for better or worse. I hope that's what the people want because if what you want is water, then can I direct you to the Maroon 5/Coldplay section of the record store where you'll find all of your musical desires will be sated.

Yeah. I think whenever anyone in art decides to imagine a different idea of Jesus or decides to redirect that story, people tend to freak out.

I was thinking about ... You know when in Inglourious Basterds when they're shooting Hitler in the face? Even though that's a guy that's responsible for a whole lot of genocide... To reimagine his end, I don't understand where the difference is. Why is that not offensive and then the Jesus one is? I suppose it's been 2000 years of all that stuff.

Moving on for a moment, the press materials for Easter Is Cancelled contemplate what rock and roll even means anymore. You write that it used to mean challenging the establishment, but now it's "something that most artists seem to have given up on in favour of easy celebrity." As someone who came up during a time of rock and roll resurgence, what else have you observed about the way the genre has changed in popular music?

Yeah. I think there's a lot of stuff that's really exciting to listen to at the moment, but in a sort of nostalgic way. I don't want to name any names or shame anybody because I think new music needs to be supported. Let's just say for argument's sake this singer sounds like another singer from 30 years, 40 years ago, right?

And then you listen to it and it's impossible to not be excited by it because it reminds you of those great albums, that really iconic voice, but then you can't just do that. You need to have a second influence or you need to work with a writer like Justin Hawkins who can get the best out of you. That's what you need to do. You can't just do records slightly weaker and less syncopated version of the singer you already sound like. That's one of the problems with rock and roll: you have to go back such a long way to find an artist that's done anything challenging within that genre that it's losing to other genres. That's what's happening, isn't it?

And it will change because you've only got to look at how excited people get about something that's totally retro. There's a real appetite for quality rock. There just isn't any quality rock, but that's because it only comes around every, what, decade, 15 years something brilliant happens in rock, whether it's grunge or nu-metal. Some people thought that was brilliant. And then of course most people will deny that they thought that, but they did.

And then everyone thought we were brilliant. Every 10, 15 years, something's going to come and they'll go, "Look, rock and roll isn't teetering on the edge of the precipice. They've pulled them back." And we all live to do the devil's horns and wear a denim jacket once more, not leather though because that's not vegan.

When you guys first arrived, you became so well known for your Freddie Mercury-esque falsetto vocals. Have you been one to do vocal exercises?

I never used to in the olden days. I used to smoke a lot and drink a lot and eat a lot of really sh*tty food and didn't do any exercise or any exercises. And then I just when it went wrong, I used to get somebody to come in and try and help me make it better. But now I've paid my dues. I've done all my rock and roll stuff, so I don't do anything naughty anymore. I think singers, they're slightly different to other musicians in the way that they prepare for shows. I've been getting some vocal training from a friend of mine who helps singers at the Zurich Opera House.

He's showing me a lot of really cool preparations and warm downs and stuff that he assures me [Luciano] Pavarotti would have done in the olden days so that he could then go on to party after he's done his singing. I've got loads of stuff that I do. It's not really ointments and potions. In fact, with that experience I've reduced it a lot. It's not taking an hour to prepare for a show anymore. It's more like 20, 25 minutes, but it's way more effective and I don't know, I just make sure I don't have too much of a late night the night before. Actually, that's not true at all. Anyway, I do try.

Serious question: How often do people approach you on the street and attempt to sing the chorus to "I Believe In A Thing Called Love" at you? 

Say, for example, I'm in a supermarket and I'll walk past and I've been spotted, but they're not quite sure I think. I hear people singing it to each other and then laughing and then waiting for me to react, to check. I think that's what's happening there.

It never happens in Switzerland. This is one of those places where nobody gives a thought at all because I just think that they're used to it. It's part of the reason why Tina Turner and Phil Collins and all that lot have retired here. The other reason, of course, would be the tax advantages, being able to have a bank account that are held in a number as opposed to a name and all that other lovely Swiss stuff, but a big part of it is the culture here is they will not bother you if they spot you and recognize you. It just doesn't happen. Sometimes I realize that people have spotted me and I'm sort of known around the town, but nobody says anything to me directly or sings that song. 

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