GRAMMYs

 Ariel Rechtshaid

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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.

Haim Open Up About 'Women In Music Pt. III,' Protesting In L.A. & Music Industry Sexism: "Not A Lot Has Changed"

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mxmtoon

Photo by April Blum

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mxmtoon Prepares For An Autumn Of Reflection

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Whether through her subdued EP 'dusk' or history podcast "365 days with mxmtoon," the 19-year-old songwriter is using the lessons she’s learned to continue her growth
Gabriel Aikins
GRAMMYs
Sep 11, 2020 - 8:57 am

Autumn is almost here, and even in this pandemic-altered year it symbolizes a transformative mindset and mood. As the blossoms of spring give way to the sunshine of summer and finally to the brisk breeze of fall, it gives people a chance to reflect on where they’ve been and where they’d like to go. It’s a calmer, more introspective time. That makes it the perfect season for 19-year-old mxmtoon's new projects to arrive.

mxmtoon, who also goes by Maia, has already had a busy 2020. On the heels of debut album the masquerade dropping almost exactly a year ago in Sept. 2019, she wowed again with the bright, pop-driven EP dawn this April. The EP was some welcome positivity as the hardships of the year fully began to settle in for all of us, including Maia. She continued to utilize her sizable social media reach to keep in touch with fans across Twitter, Twitch and TikTok. The isolation and time for thought also contributed greatly to the sound and feeling of upcoming EP dusk, out Oct. 1. A companion to dawn, dusk is a more subdued, melancholy collection of tracks, as evidenced by lead single "bon iver." Maia has also been thinking about the more general past, leading to the launch of her new podcast "365 days with mxmtoon" on Sept. 14, which will find her recounting stories from the history of the world, music, and herself.

Maia spoke with GRAMMY.com in August to discuss how dusk and dawn are related, how she made the EP in isolation, what working with Carly Rae Jepsen meant to her, and how all the time for reflection inspired her music and podcast. 

You had the EP dawn come out in the spring and you have dusk coming out in the fall. When you started writing for this did you know it was going to be two EPs?

I did know that it was going to be two EPs, and it was still open-ended on what thematically the two were going to be about. At that point, dawn started forming itself and just making a piece of work that was going to be more optimistic and more outward facing in the way the lyrics would be written and more just classical pop production in a sense. The second EP, I was trying to work around how are we going to think about this and what will pair up with doing something that feels so different than anything I’ve done before? Why don’t we just go to the opposite end of the spectrum and do something that feels a little sadder and more melancholy in its tone and more introspective?

Was it difficult making that big of a shift right after writing dawn?

I mean, the world kinda turned itself on its head so it wasn’t entirely too hard for me to be sad about what was going on. [Laughs.] But it was definitely difficult to go from a co-writing situation where I was traveling and going to write with people inside other studios and spaces to all of a sudden being in quarantine and being by myself and not having anybody to bounce ideas off of other than my own brain. That was the hardest part, but definitely thematically I think we were all in the space of wanting to write sad music whether or not we were musicians.

You wrote most of this alone because of the pandemic. At what point did you start bringing people in and how did it feel after this extended quarantine period?

Oh my god, it was really crazy. I only started co-writing last year in August, so I’ve only been co-writing with other people for around a year now. I love doing it, there’s something about in-person collaboration you just can’t emulate even if it’s over FaceTime or Zoom, so it was really daunting to go into the writing rooms and my own studio spaces during quarantine to be like, "Okay, I hope my own brain is well-equipped enough in order to make music for this project." That’s how I originally started writing–by myself–so it was a big challenge for me to go back into that headspace and get used to it again. But I think it was a really good challenge too because it helps you understand what are the pros and cons of both situations, of working with people and then also working by yourself. And bringing back people into the production of these songs after I finished writing them at the end of working on dusk was really exciting too. I was just really proud of myself for the fact that I still felt capable of being able to write by myself after doing so much collaboration. [Laughs.]

Getting into dusk, it is a little sadder, a little more subdued. A big theme of it is still finding the light in those scenarios. Why was it important for you to include that message?

That’s something I am constantly reminding myself, even beyond the era of COVID-19 where I think we all have to do that anyways. It’s just really important for me to hopefully champion the message that sadness is not something to be afraid for shy of, and you can still feel hopeful even in the dark. Even if you have a project like dusk where it’s about the darker, sadder elements of our experiences as humans, you can still relish in the sadness and the whole negativity, but at the end of the day come out of it and understand that I can take this moment for now, but I also understand there is still good things that wait for me at the other end.

Writing that contrast, was it more a general contrast in mood or did you go back and refer to dawn to specifically make dusk play off of it?

I naturally followed an arc of the more negative thoughts that are swirling around in my brain? How can I approach those? But I didn’t actually go back to dawn while I was writing dusk to make something that felt different. I think that the two naturally came to be really interconnected without having to be very on the nose about what sort of themes I was touching on and the progression from one to the other.

So Carly Rae Jepsen is on the track "ok on your own." What was it like working with her?

It was insane, oh my god. When I got the email that Carly Rae Jepsen wanted to feature on this song, I literally almost fainted on the ground. [Laughs.] I have been a huge fan of Carly for as long as I can remember. I remember dancing to "Call Me Maybe" in my middle school dances growing up, and I texted my best friend when I found out about this and she called me immediately. I had like 10 missed calls on my phone just like "you have to tell me more information about this." I was freaking out, because I am in awe of her and I just think she’s such an empowering figure for female artists in the music industry and I adore everything she’s done. It was super cool to just have a FaceTime with her and meet her for the first time and hear her thoughts on the track and just be mutually excited about working on something together. My mind is just blown.

Growing up, you had classical training in cello and violin, and it feels like dusk really draws on the style of that. Was that intentional?

Totally. I love classical music and any kind of element I can add into my own music is super exciting for me because I just love the sound of string instruments. It was really exciting for me to work on dusk because in a lot of ways the production on this project is the way when I first started writing music just me and my ukulele. These songs are the way I wish I could have made my earlier music sound. Just making it sound really pretty with all the strings and the piano and the synths. I now have the ability to do that with producers and people that I work with. I wasn’t able to do that early on so it’s super exciting for me to take elements of things that are important to me and put them into this newer project.

Read More: "The 'Canon' Is Racist": How A Collective Of Black Musicians Are Exposing Racism In The Classical Music Community

Talking about classical segues us into the podcast about history. At what point during all this did you decide to start this podcast?

It’s something that’s been on my mind for awhile. The first podcast I ever worked on was called "21 Days with mxmtoon" and was in collaboration with Spotify, and I made it last year when I was working on my first ever album and documenting that whole process. My team and I were like, how can we continue this thread of "'something' days of mxmtoon," but make it something that’s completely different? And we thought about this podcast, "The Daily," from the New York Times where it talks about topical things that are happening in the world at this moment. What if we made the Gen Z version of that, and instead of talking about current day issues, we just talk about historical events that are really funny and totally out of the blue? Like, party facts that you can just listen to for 10 minutes and then you’re knowledgable about a subject all of a sudden. History’s always been something I really enjoy, and to think about doing some form of daily content, especially in the format of podcasting was super exciting for me and it’s been super cool to see it come into reality and being able to think about all the stuff we get to talk about.

The podcast focuses on more of the personal side of history. What made you want to focus more on that?

I think history is so often, I think the best word is Euro-centric. We only focus on the same set of events that happened in the course of our American history or whatever it is, even when we look at the world there’s very few things we actually know about what else happens inside of our universe. It was really exciting for me to work with my team to work on these episodes that feel like they pinpoint really specific facts about things that are even interconnected with my life, like growing up in the Bay Area and having Alcatraz Island be right next to my house. I just like learning about things in ways that feel ultra specific and that feels more intriguing to me and hopefully other people like to learn that way too, otherwise I might be screwed. [Laughs.]

In recent press material you’ve mentioned this work is some that you’ve been very proud of and proud of your own growth making it. What are some of those things you’re most proud of through this process?

I feel really proud of myself whenever I finish a project in general because I think that’s always a huge step to put yourself into a position where you’re pouring your soul into a piece of work and sharing that with the world. In that sense, I’m proud of the general process of doing that. But I think the reason that these EPs stick out to me the most is probably because of the exact same reasons that I don't always believe that I am in this world of the music industry and being an artist for a living and a creative and I am the person on the screen at the end of the day that people are paying attention to. I think when I was listening to dawn and when I was working on dusk, I had these very real moments where I was listening to these songs and being able to finally connect the dots with the fact I was like wow, I’m making music I can recognize finally as good enough in the greater context of the music industry and being able to think about if I heard this on a playlist on Spotify amongst all these other artists I look up to personally, I wouldn’t be weirded out by my presence on the playlist. I’m like, "this is a really good song and it deserves to be here." I think there’s a level of understanding that I am finally having with my own music when I listen to it that has also been able to feel more proud of the work I’ve put in.

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Curtis Waters

Photo by Hassan Rashid

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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.

Read more: Dua Lipa Talks 'Club Future Nostalgia,' Working With Madonna And How She's Navigating The Music Industry In The COVID-19 Era

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Haim

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Haim Open Up About 'Women In Music Pt. III,' Protesting In L.A. & Music Industry Sexism: "Not A Lot Has Changed"

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Ahead of the release of their third studio album, Alana, Danielle and Este Haim sit down with GRAMMY.com for a wide-ranging interview about loving (and almost leaving) L.A., battling gender-based genre stereotypes and much more
Pamela Chelin
GRAMMYs
Jun 25, 2020 - 8:43 am

While conversing over Zoom, it’s easy to see why the Haim sisters work so well together. Chatty and affable, they alternate between finishing each other's sentences and talking in unison, and paying rapt attention as each sister speaks. Born and raised in a tight-knit family in the San Fernando Valley area of Los Angeles, bassist/vocalist Este Haim (34), guitarist/vocalist Danielle Haim (31) and guitarist/keyboardist/vocalist Alana Haim (28) grew up playing in Rockinhaim, a covers band with their parents. In 2012, Haim released their debut EP Forever for free on their website before releasing their debut full-length album, Days Are Gone (2013), which shot to number one on the U.K. Albums Chart and garnered a GRAMMY nomination for Best New Artist. Something To Tell You, their sophomore record, was released in 2017. After opening a string of dates on Taylor Swift’s 1989 tour, headlining their own international tours and selling out both New York City's Radio City Music Hall and London's Alexandra Palace two nights in a row, a couple of "SNL" performances, and attracting celebrity fans in Fleetwood Mac's Stevie Nicks and U2's Bono, the trio is on the verge of releasing their highly anticipated third record, Women In Music Pt. III.

Due to the coronavirus pandemic, WIMPIII’s release date was initially pushed to August from April before being rolled back to June. The viral outbreak also cut Haim's promotional deli tour short (they had just begun a jaunt performing at delis across the United States). On its surface, a deli tour may seem strange. But for Haim, who share a lifelong fondness for delis, it's actually a natural fit. "We grew up going to delis and when we were introducing the record we wanted to do something creative that we’d not seen before. We really do feel at home the most in delis," Alana tells GRAMMY.com. "We really wanted to do a different thing and we thought how cool if people can go and be able to eat Matzo ball soup." In fact, Haim's first gig with their parents 20 years ago was at West Hollywood landmark Canter's Deli, where the band also hosted a star-studded party with special guest DJ Mark Ronson in 2017. Earlier in the year, Haim—along with their frequent music video collaborator director Paul Thomas Anderson—shot Women In Music Pt. III’s album art Canter's. In the cover photo, Haim are shown standing behind a deli counter with sausages (wink, wink) hanging behind their heads with NOW SERVING 69 (hint, hint) prominently displayed.

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Co-produced by Danielle and longtime collaborators Ariel Rechtshaid (Danielle’s live-in boyfriend) and Rostam Batmanglij (formerly of Vampire Weekend), WIMPIII is Haim's favorite record to date. "For the first time, with this record, I don't think I’ll ever get sick of it," says Alana, crediting their years of recording experience. "We’ve always been confident but this is our third record, our third time around the sun if you will, and even thinking back to Days Are Gone, we didn’t know anything in the studio." "We knew the fundamentals of production when we first got into it, but now we know so much more," says Danielle. 

This time around, it was important to Haim, who are known for their highly energetic performances, to capture their live sound on record. "We wanted it to sound like the person listening to it was in the room while we were recording it, and that’s why it sounds super live," says Alana, who says they played as loudly as they could and put a room mic in the corner of the studio. Danielle says making use of her home studio was pivotal, too. "Being in expensive studios on Days Are Gone, there was so much pressure with being in those kinds of professional studios. But at Voxx [Studios], where we also did our last album, too, we'd do basic tracking and then take it into a home studio, and that’s where we feel our most comfortable," says Danielle.

Haim Perform "Gasoline" | Press Play

Their most mature, contemplative, revealing and musically realized record, the melodic, hypnotically rhythmic and catchy WIMPIII reflects Haim's huge evolution over the last eight years including a deep lyrical exploration of myriad relationships (romantic, self, each other, the music industry and the media). In Haim's customary genre-busting musical style, the 16-song offering incorporates a variety of musical influences, seamlessly blending pop, R&B, hip-hop, folk, ska and classic rock (in addition to splashes of Prince and '90s pop-radio mainstays Savage Garden). Despite the range of musical influences going into WIMPIII, what comes out the other side sounds uniquely Haim.

Hoping the record's title Women In Music Pt. III speaks for itself, they are understandably as tired of talking about being women in music in 2020 as they should be. "In the back of our minds, we were hoping that because we’d named our album that, it wasn't going to be the first question everyone asks," says Danielle. "That’s why we put our song 'Man From The Magazine' in music form so we would be able to touch on it without having to have it be the thing that we talk about constantly."

The lyrics of "Man From The Magazine" discuss Haim's experiences with sexism ranging from a male journalist inquiring inappropriately about the faces Este makes when she plays bass (Man from the magazine / What did you say / Do you make the same faces in bed / Hey man what kind of question is that / What did you really want me to say back?) to a guy working at a music shop who assumes the sisters are beginner musicians. (Man from the music shop / I drove too far for you to hand me that starter guitar / Hey girl why don’t you play a few bars / Oh what’s left to prove?)

Asked if things have improved over recent years, the sisters sigh. Unfortunately, they haven't. One after the other, Alana and Este both say, "Not a lot has changed." 

What frustrates Haim further, which Danielle elucidates as another of WIMPIII’s themes, are perpetual attempts at forcing genre-specific labels on their music. "We have had to deal with people trying to put us in a box our whole career and not understanding what we do," she says. "There was a lot of, ‘Oh, you’re a girl band’ or ‘Oh, you make pop music,’" says Alana. "We've always felt that we carved our own path and made the music we wanted to make and we never put a label on it and we were OK with it. But to some people, if they don’t understand what box you go in, they get confused and say they don’t understand it, which is weird to me. We’ve always bridged the gap over a bunch of things and we’ve never been afraid to explore different kinds of genres and different kinds of songwriting." 

"I think other bands that aren’t all female can dabble in a bunch of different genres yet they're still called a rock band," says Danielle. "Meanwhile, we’re women and we dabble in all sorts of genres, [but] because we’re women it’s pop. That’s frustrating to be honest with you."

When they first received recognition in the U.K., Danielle says even being tagged with having a "California Sound" was baffling. "It was funny when people started saying that we have a 'California Sound.' We didn’t realize. We were just making music that we were coming up with. It's interesting. We never thought about it that way. Maybe it’s the harmonies? I don't know," says Danielle. "Our hair?" asks Alana. "Our long hair? Our middle parts?" says Danielle. "We never really felt super L.A. until we went to the U.K.," says Alana.

That’s not to say they resent the L.A. tag, though. You’d be hard-pressed to find greater L.A. champions than the sisters Haim, between their album art, lyrics (songs on the new record reference Crescent Heights, earthquake drills and freeway overpasses), music videos and recent promotional photos showing the band gracing the front page of L.A. Times Calendar section strategically placed over their seemingly naked bodies.  

"We’ve always been advocates for our city and we've repped it super hard, and throughout our whole lives we had to deal with pop culture telling us, ‘L.A. sucks.’ I feel like that was a popular theme," says Danielle. "Yeah, New York is the cool place. L.A. sucks," says Alana. "Yeah, it was always, ‘L.A. sucks’ in a lot of different movies," says Danielle. "In movies and TV shows, it never got respect," says Este. "We ride for L.A.,” says Danielle. "And I think with this record we embraced it. We talk about L.A., and obviously 'Free Fallin’' and Tom Petty are huge huge inspirations to us our whole lives. Actually, Wildflowers was a huge inspiration on this album."

Ironically, WIMPIII’s opening track, "Los Angeles," reveals Haim contemplating moving elsewhere. "That song is speaking to the mass exodus of everyone and their mom moving to L.A. and having a vindication that, yes, L.A. is the best,” says Danielle, "So the aftermath of that for me was, ‘Wait, is this city even mine anymore?’ Maybe I recognized why some people didn’t like it and we kind of collectively thought maybe we should move somewhere because we’ve never lived anywhere else." It's plain as the Hollywood sign on a clear day, however, that the sisters aren’t going anywhere. "I love it," says Alana. “L.A. is stuck with me.” 

The only thing stronger than the love for their hometown is the sisters’ adoration for each other. The penultimate track on WIMPIII, "Hallelujah," is a beautiful guitar- and vocals-driven ode to sisterhood emanating a "Landslide" vibe that would make Fleetwood Mac proud. Solemn and somber, the tender and naked ballad reflects each sister's grappling with personal and heavy topics—Este’s Type 1 Diabetes, Alana’s grief for a close friend who was killed in a car accident years ago and Danielle’s coming to terms with Ariel’s testicular cancer (he’s now cancer-free)—while expressing gratitude for each other’s support. Their close bond is most sharply illuminated by the lyric "three roads, one life."  

"That was a cathartic song to write, a hard one to write but a really nice release," says Este. "I think we had so much to say and it flew out. I remember the day we wrote it, it felt like I lost 20 pounds and felt light as a feather and needed to happen," says Alana. "Another overlying theme of the record is dealing with things we’d kind of been running away from. For years, we’d been a touring band that [thought] leaving your troubles in L.A. is the easiest thing to do. 'See ya when I come back, probably not but OK bye.'"

Meanwhile, the sisters have been isolating separately from each other, and lockdown has been tough. "It sucks,” says Este who’s suffered the most in isolation. "I feel I’m a strong, independent woman but I think that I’ve realized in this quarantine that I also crave human connection. It’s also why I love touring so much, and the idea of not being able to do that is heartbreaking. It feels like I’m going through a breakup and, truly, the relationships with audience members that you foster on the road—to me, that’s connection. To go from feast to famine is really, really difficult for me. I very much love the routine of touring and being able to share it with my family is so special. And now being home is kind of sad.

After spending the first month of lockdown without seeing each other, the longest time Haim have ever spent apart, the sisters made a pact only to visit with each other and no one else. Though they’ve used their lockdown time productively, doing press for their record, appearing on talk shows and hosting weekly Zoom dance classes for their fans, it’s been heartbreaking to sit on a record that was specifically made to be played live. "The thing we wanted to make sure with this album is, and it’s bittersweet now, but we were really thinking about how we were going to play this album live. That was at the forefront of our minds. Playing live is such a big part of us and something we take seriously," says Danielle. "We were just stoked to play this shit live. That’s the thing. We love the studio but we love the tactile act of playing music, so the idea of not being able to do that is pretty tough,” says Este.

Notably, even while Haim air their grievances and disappointments, they remain warm, upbeat, enthusiastic, playful and positive. They are grateful for their success while simultaneously seeming slightly incredulous as if they are still pinching themselves to make sure they aren't dreaming. "The fact that we started out playing at the Echo, first of three [bands on the bill], and have made it to this point, just on our own, is the biggest gift," says Alana, who is still stunned that Haim sold out L.A.'s Greek Theatre in just a few hours. Her eyes widen in disbelief as she says, "Man, the f**king Greek? What? What?"

While they are L.A. to the (hard)core, the sisters haven't gone Hollywood. Down to earth and accessible, they are highly interactive with their legions of fans online where they post regularly. Recently, when a fan posted concern on Haim’s Instagram page that WIMPIII’s release date would be changed yet again, the band immediately responded with assurance. "It’s just how we’ve always been and how we’ll always be," says Alana. "We truly crave human connection and thrive on it. We’re just three sisters from the Valley, you know," says Este. "You can take the girl out of the Valley but you can’t take…," Alana trails off with a wry smile.

While they typically veer towards quirky and lighthearted online, the sisters have switched gears in some of their recent Instagram posts voicing support for justice for Breonna Taylor who was shot eight times in her apartment by police in Kentucky, posting photos from Black Lives Matter protests they attended in Hollywood and downtown Los Angeles following the police killing of George Floyd in Minneapolis, and calling upon L.A. Mayor Eric Garcetti to fire LAPD Police Chief Michel Moore after unsettling remarks in which he said protesters and looters also had the killing of George Floyd on their hands (the remarks were later rolled back by Garcetti and retracted by Moore, who issued an apology).

"When the protests began, we knew there was a risk with COVID, but we had to go out, support and protest," says Alana. "It didn’t feel right to just stay at home. We needed to be out there with everyone. Walking down Hollywood Boulevard with everyone chanting the same thing, moving together, it was a really special feeling. There were so many people that came out to help one another, too, to make sure everyone was safe and protected. People were handing out masks, hand sanitizer, water, etc. it’s been really beautiful to see everyone come together and stand for change."

"Having this platform is not something we take lightly, especially during times like these," says Este. "We've been protesting, donating, calling and sending emails to help raise money and awareness to help organizations like the People’s City Council Freedom Fund and Black Trans Femmes in the Arts Collective. We’ve been encouraging our fans to do the same."

In the meantime, while it's anyone's guess as to when bands will be able to perform live, the sisters are happy WIMPIII is finally being released while remaining cautious about scheduling future tour dates. "We can’t wait to start playing shows but want to be sure that we’re keeping our fans, our crew and everyone’s health and safety a priority. When it’s finally safe for everyone, we’ll definitely be playing live," says Este.

"I do feel when things are opening, then maybe we can finish the deli tour," says Alana. "Or if delis are open and that’s the only form of how to play music, I can solely do a deli tour. If that’s the only way to play live, I’ll solely play delis."

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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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