Yoshiki

Yoshiki

Photo: Yoshiki Foundation America

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Yoshiki On Teaming With MusiCares To Address Mental Health & His New Disney+ Special

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"Suicide is not only one person's problem," X Japan drummer Yoshiki tells GRAMMY.com. "The people around the person have to live with that pain, and I'm one of them"
Bryan Reesman
MusiCares
Mar 29, 2021 - 7:30 am

Drummer, pianist and X Japan bandleader Yoshiki has lived a life that countless musicians dream of. His band has sold more than 30 million albums globally, toured across Asia and Europe, headlined Madison Square Garden, and sold out the massive Tokyo Dome a record 18 times. 

Still, he's aware of the plight of others far less fortunate than himself. Eleven years ago, Yoshiki founded the Yoshiki Foundation America for the purpose of aiding in various causes, and since the X Japan documentary We Are X came out in 2016, he has been open about his personal struggles with depression and suicidal thoughts after his father committed suicide when he was 10 years old. 

His latest endeavor with MusiCares is an annual $100,000 grant from his foundation to aid those in the music industry who are coping with or have been affected by depression and suicide. Funds will be used to help those coping with depression or suicidal thoughts as well as survivors of suicide loss.

Yoshiki spoke to GRAMMY.com about the grant and his recent Disney+ special, "Disney My Music Story." He also discussed his YouTube Originals concert and upcoming documentary "Under The Sky" featuring guest performances by St. Vincent, The Chainsmokers, Sarah Brightman, Scorpions and other artists.

For many years, you've been involved in philanthropic endeavors. When did you realize you could use your rock star status for good deeds, and what was the cause that compelled you to action?

There was the Kobe earthquake 25 years ago. It was a pretty big earthquake. Over 10 schools lost their buildings, so we [X Japan] donated pianos for their music classes. I think that was the first time we did something. Since then, if an earthquake or something happens, I donate here and there. Then, in 2010, I created my own foundation to keep supporting people [in various ways]. 

You've given money, but you've also given something of yourself. Ten years ago, you donated the crystal piano that you played at Tokyo Dome shows with X Japan for victims of tsunami and earthquake devastation. How hard was it to let go of something so personal?

Around that time, I tried to figure out: what's the best way to support people? With people like us, it's not just that you're donating something to someone. What we do can also spread, right? Artist A did this, Artist B did that. 

So because we are in the position that the media can talk about this, and also the way we do it, people can understand who needs some help. By donating such a memorable piano, people around the world can notice, "Those people need support." I thought that was a very effective way to support even more than what I could do.

Your current MusiCares partnership is a grant to raise awareness for mental health issues and suicide prevention. What inspired you to create this grant?

Since my father committed suicide, I became very suicidal. I was looking for the moment to die, but I couldn't kill myself. I was already playing piano when my father was playing piano. I was composing already. I just used this darkness and pain and converted it into art, so that's how I've been surviving. 

Then, my band member [Hide] also passed away. And another member, Taiji, committed suicide, and it really hit me again. Again, I became suicidal. I've always been suicidal. When I help people, somehow I'm also being helped at the same time. That's supporting me too. I have my own problems.

How does the grant work?

As of now, I donate a certain amount of money every year so that music industry people can have a counselor or a psychiatrist to support them – somebody who has suicidal thoughts or depression, or somebody who lost their family member or close one to this kind of problem. 

Because committing suicide is not only one person's problem. The people around the person have to live with that pain, and I'm one of them. The cause can support those people as well.

You've said it before: For the people who are left behind, what do they do?

Exactly. It's very different than if somebody… Death is death, after all. [People can] die from some kind of an accident or sickness. But committing suicide is their own choice. So if your friend or family member [did it]...why couldn't I stop that? 

In my father's case: Was I a bad son? I still think about it [after] all these years.

How hard has it been to discuss these issues in your own life? And then how else do you want to get the word out about dealing with them? Do you want to do public speaking?

Well, before the film We Are X, I did not talk about that much. It's not something cool to talk about, right? But after the film was out, a lot of people came to me and because of that, because of my story, I decided to live. I decided not to take my life. 

Like, wow, my story or the music or combination is supporting people. It's still painful to talk about it, but the story can support people and help people's lives... I don't know, I'm not good at making speeches in front of a lot of people. I'm good at rocking. [laughs] I would love to support more people's lives.

You said you've channeled some of your pain into your music. Do you channel that as much into your classical music as you do your rock music?

I think a combination of both. So yes, sometimes I keep playing the piano to contain my sadness, but also playing drums or even breaking drums to just contain my anger. Because of that environment, I was kind of saved, I guess. If you go out and start smashing things on stage, people like it, but you cannot do it in real life.

Read: Yoshiki Donates $100k To MusiCares COVID-19 Relief Fund "To Help My Colleagues Who Might Be Struggling"

You've teamed up with MusiCares a few times before. Why is this alliance so important to you, and why do you feel such a connection with this organization?

They support the music industry to which I belong. Sometimes, people may have a hard time understanding our situation. We are not special, we are the same as you, but the way we act and perform on stage, people may think we are something different. 

At the same time, our image is supposed to be bigger than life. We don't have to live that way, but we are also as vulnerable as anyone. In this gap, I sometimes get lost. It's so hard to just show a weaker side sometimes. All those MusiCares activities, [from] education to disaster relief to other things, I think they are doing amazing things.

Many musicians quietly deal with mental health issues. It's the same thing in Hollywood. There are a lot of actors who are dealing with them but don't tell others. People don't often like to show "weakness." How do you think MusiCares will be effective in working with this grant program to reach out to the music community about these issues?

Musicians [and] artists are supposed to help people through music or through art or film, but we also have problems. MusiCares supports the artists, the artists can support people, so it's a very important role MusiCares has especially right now. Our hope is towards the end of the tunnel, but we still haven't left the tunnel yet.

Yoshiki

Yoshiki presenting a check to MusiCares. Photo courtesy of Yoshiki Foundation America.

I've been hearing that the pandemic has been very hard for people struggling with depression and addiction. You and I are used to being hermits when we work. You can sit in the studio, I can write in my office. But other people are struggling with not having that human contact. Zoom calls are great, but it's nice to see people in person. Has anyone mentioned that to you at all?

I'm kind of used to the isolation, being alone [in] the composition process. I haven't gone out to eat in one year. It's very strange. I thought I could be just by myself, like one year without seeing anyone, but it's feeling strange. If I start feeling like that, I can imagine other people. I love loneliness. I used to love loneliness. But this is strange. I talked to some of my musician friends who were acting fine on Zoom calls, but I could see through it.

You've talked about your suicidal thoughts and mental health issues. Do you think that more musicians will be inspired to open up about those things seeing that there are major figures such as yourself being very public about this? And have you noticed that?

Yeah. Sometimes we also see musicians kill themselves. I think that being on stage and being off stage, we get lost in between somehow. When I met David Bowie a long time ago, I asked him, "Where do you draw the line [between] your real life and life on stage?" He couldn't answer it. He said, "That's a good question."

The Yoshiki Foundation America is based in the States, but you have an international reach. You've donated to earthquake and tsunami relief, COVID relief, childhood cancer research and Meals On Wheels. Are there any other charitable causes that are close to your heart that you want to get involved with?

Oh, yes, we are also donating to environmental issues, sustainability issues. We are learning more and more how important they are.

I've heard that when Hide was alive, he had been helping out an X Japan fan who was terminally ill, and then you took over following his unexpected death. Could you tell us about that story?

I think the Make-A-Wish Foundation in Japan approached Hide. There was this huge Hide fan named Mayuko who had bone marrow disease. [After] Hide passed away, I didn't know what to do. I was organizing some disaster relief, but I took over the position. I started supporting her to the end of her life. Hide inspired me. She was very strong to the last minute. She was very inspirational.

I believe you're the first Japanese music artist to have a Disney+ special in America which includes two of your Disney covers, "Let It Go" and "Can You Feel the Love Tonight." I'm curious how that came about?

I'm very grateful that Disney+ approached me to do my life story and incorporate the Disney story. That documentary is almost 90% Japanese. I thought it was created for Disney+ Japan but Disney+ picked it up, and I was kind of surprised by that. I think my fans requested it. I don't know how that happened actually because it's almost like a foreign film [with subtitles].

I feel like Japan and other Asian countries have done well in response to the coronavirus. What do you think we can learn over here about the Eastern response to the pandemic?

This COVID-19 situation is all about, not "I'm first," [but] "I care about you first.". So wearing the mask or staying home is not for you [but] for your friends. That kind of thought. Some diseases [like smallpox] completely disappeared because our ancestors [were] vaccinated. That's why we don't have to deal with that. 

So, we are doing this for the next generation, or your friends or your family or people around the world. That's most important. Then secondary, also your life. That's how I think. I'm not saying you should it do this way, but those are my thoughts.

How MusiCares' Music On A Mission Honored The Resilience Of The Music Community

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Greta Van Fleet press photo

Greta Van Fleet

 

Photo: Alysse Gafkjen

 
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Battle Tested: Greta Van Fleet's Jake And Sam Kiszka Talk Ambitious New Album, 'The Battle At Garden's Gate'

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GRAMMY-winning rockers Greta Van Fleet tell GRAMMY.com about how their time on the road and exposure to different ways of thinking led to their sonically and lyrically dynamic new album, 'The Battle At Garden's Gate'
Joshua M. Miller
GRAMMYs
Apr 23, 2021 - 5:10 am

Greta Van Fleet is primed and ready for a battle. On "Age of Machine," off the band's latest album, The Battle at Garden's Gate, singer Josh Kiszka questions the domination social media, one societal machine, has on his generation, Gen Z: "Perfect child/Plugged in since the womb/Prophet of the dune/In this electric tomb," he sings.

"You have people, young men and young women, who are plugged into social media and into alternative forms of growing up and how you inter-personalize some of these things," his brother, Jake, tells GRAMMY.com during a recent interview.

"You make so many constructs, the social media telling a young person, 'You're not skinny enough, you're not pretty enough, you're not smart enough, you're not perfect.' And I think this song says, 'Yeah, you are.' It says that these things are machine-created constructs. That's not the reality; it's not truthful."

In the past few years, life on the road and a move to Nashville have made the band more aware of the wide world outside of their native Michigan. Being exposed to different ways of thinking and meeting new people gave them empathy for others less fortunate who struggle with inequality, hunger and poverty. It also made the band realize how alike we all are.

These themes, and more, are lyrically at the heart of The Battle at Garden's Gate.

"The stories are what translate most to the human soul," bass/keyboard player and fellow brother Sam says.

Adds Jake, "It is masked in hope and it's mastered with this kind of feeling that we, as a human species, can overcome these very great challenges."

Greta Van Fleet, which also features their friend Danny Wagner on drums, have come a long way since first performing in their small hometown of Frankenmuth, Michigan, nearly a decade ago. Following an unexpected surge in popularity thanks to their earlier, vintage-rock-infused releases, including their 2017 GRAMMY-winning double EP, From the Fires, as well as their 2018 debut album, Anthem of the Peaceful Army, they've since routinely sold out venues around the globe, performed on late-night shows such as "Saturday Night Live" and "The Tonight Show Starring Jimmy Fallon," and played international music festivals, including Coachella.

Building on that momentum, Battle at Garden's Gate, produced by Greg Kurstin (Paul McCartney, Foo Fighters and Adele), now sees Greta Van Fleet exploring a more cinematic and progressive sound while marking a vision fully realized for the band.

"I think this is the record that we always wanted to make even years and years ago, when we were still playing in the garage," Jake says.

GRAMMY.com caught up with Greta Van Fleet's Jake and Sam Kiszka recently to discuss their new album, The Battle at Garden's Gate, the importance of finding hope in songs, the effect of technology and social media on their generation, and embracing the Led Zeppelin comparisons.

This interview has been edited for clarity and brevity.

Everything's screeched to a halt due to the COVID-19 pandemic. How have you kept busy over the past year?

Jake Kiszka: Well, we haven't. We've been bored off our asses … It's been kind of a double-edged sword because touring is such at the core of what we do; it's sort of the sole purpose of a group like [ours]. But I suppose on the other side of the blade, it's been interesting because we have been able to take a form of creativity and redirect it in another direction … We've been able to really shape and craft a lot of the visual aesthetics for what we're doing.

I think we also cursed ourselves because when we made the record, we went into it with this idea that we can do whatever we want. And whenever there was a question about how we are going to replicate that live, we said, "Don't worry about it. We'll figure that out later." So, I think it's perhaps the record that we made that shut down the world.

[The time off] lent us the ability for two more songs on the album. We pretty much had the record entirely recorded last summer and everything shut down. So, we started writing again—we started writing a new album, actually—and we came up with these two songs, "The Barbarians" and "Caravel" that … sounded so much like The Battle at Garden's Gate.

Many of the songs have a hopeful aspect to them. Why was it important to have that element?

Jake: It's tough to feel hopeful, especially in this day and age. I think that's something that's super important about the record. We didn't necessarily record it with the intention to be releasing it into a world like this, but it was very appropriate … [It's important] being able to deal with rapid industry growth and greed and being able to deal with gender norms and a lot of racial issues and a lot of things that our generation is going to have to solve in the very, very [near] future. It is masked in hope and it's mastered with this kind of feeling that we, as a human species, can overcome these very great challenges.

Sam Kiszka: Most people have chalked the album to be a very dark album, whereas actually, it's kind of the opposite. It's sort of a representation of the resilience of the human soul.

Why did The Battle at Garden's Gate feel like a fitting title for this collection?

Sam: I think that the whole idea of what humanity is, is fundamentally broken and we are just so fundamentally cursed as being humans in this world. There's always greed and there's always hate, and there's always some kind of misunderstanding that causes some kind of ridiculous wars and everything that can destroy humanity. That's what's outside of the gate, and in the theoretical world inside the gate is perfect mankind, right?

It's kind of like this Garden of Eden idea: It's all perfection within the confines of those four walls. [There are] so many metaphors that you can pull out of that. And that was our intention to build this world, to be able to tell these stories because the stories are what translates most to the human soul. You may not know somebody until you know their story, and that is a fundamentally understood thing.

I think the gate and everything outside the gate and everything within this world that we've started building exists only as a tool that we can use to show people what is happening in our world currently.

Jake: As this thing develops, it starts to reveal itself to a certain degree that we now understand more of what the story is we're trying to tell lyrically or instrumentally; we had a greater understanding of the personality of the album and it's a story. It pulls from the mythology. It involves very contemporary issues and biblical themes. The Battle at Garden's Gate just seemed like a perfect title.

While touring the past few years, the band got to meet a lot of different people and were exposed to different cultures. How were those experiences impactful?

Jake: They really … [informed us] of a lot of the alternative ways of thought and certainly many different philosophies throughout the world … It gave us a topic to discuss, it gave us something important to say … There's ... hope that you've been reformed of in these different cultures.

There's also this aspect of sadness that you see in the world. There's poverty and there's hunger, and there are so many different things … in terms of what represents [itself] on the album.

What's one specific moment on the road that really impacted you?

Sam: Hearing Dave Grohl talk about what music is and his interpretation of that, and Taylor Hawkins as well … Seeing those guys be so excited to play and so excited to be there and be so talkative and soulful. It was really invigorating to be on the road and have that kind of energy shooting around. So we have a profound respect for those guys, how they do what they do.

"Age of Machine" questions the role of technology in society. What was the inspiration for that one?

Sam: One of the main ones was futuristic work in literature and film. The whole idea that society gets to a place in time where the technology takes over men and it poses this very fundamental issue: Are men more intelligent than the machine? Or is it the other way around?

You can think of machine as the technological kind of fetters; let's call it your phone, social media, whatever that is, whatever is poisoning our society's minds. And then you have machine, which is this very archaic system that functions only because of the greed and the wealth of exploiting the Earth.

Jake: In the song, there's a lyric: "Plugged into the womb." You have people, young men and young women, who are plugged into social media and into alternative forms of growing up and how you inter-personalize some of these things. You make so many constructs, the social media telling a young person, "You're not skinny enough, you're not pretty enough, you're not smart enough, you're not perfect." And I think this song says, "Yeah, you are." It says that these things are machine-created constructs, that's not the reality. It's not truthful.

Greg Kurstin was instrumental in giving the band confidence to try new things. How did he help the band go in a different direction?

Jake: What Greg brought was age and wisdom to this process … He was there to guide us if we needed assistance. Another thing that he really taught us was problem-solving, musically. You come into a bridge and you're like, "We have three options." And Gregg can say, "I like them all, but this one in particular stands out to me because." And I think that was a big leg up for us and a big learning experience.

Sam: Yeah, it was a good book ending to quite a story.

Jake: I think this is the record that we always wanted to make even years and years ago, when we were still playing in the garage. We just didn't have the means to do it. Also, I don't really think we had the resume to make a record like this, something that is so aggressively large.

It feels [like] we had the opportunity to choose and do everything our own way. We made this record and, in our eyes, it's perfect. It's exactly molded to the verifications and the specifications, tailor-fit, kind of exactly what we want. Which I can't say for any of our other previous work; there's always been things that we kind of abandoned. As Da Vinci said, [you never really finished art, you just abandon it. But we sure as f**k finished it on The Garden's Gate. It only took a year and a half.

When the band released Anthem of the Peaceful Army in 2018, many compared you to classic rock bands like Led Zeppelin, some positively, some negatively. Did the not-so-flattering side of that give everyone thicker skin or a motivation to keep moving forward?

Sam: Yeah, there have been so many comparisons over so many years to so many bands, so many artists. I guess we've always been humbled with reference, honored by affiliation, always. It's an interesting thing because it is a very loud minority that doesn't seem to speak for the quiet majority.

This seems to be this abhorrence within the factions of society that are drawn to ignorant criticism, but that's just something that we'll never be a part of contributing to. And I suppose we're really sort of enlightened to the idea of evolution and the fact that you take one thing to ascend to another thing, to contribute to the future. Sometimes, you have to look back to go forward. We stand on the shoulders of the giants that came before. It's inspiring, really.

How has the move to Nashville changed your perception of being a band?

Sam: It was very interesting, especially in terms of where we came from, which was a very small town in Michigan. It's interesting to call somewhere new "home," and I think we were all very reluctant. I think we're all very pleased to be able to call Nashville home now, especially in terms of its history, what it offers musically. There are so many musical people around and you can certainly feel [it].

I suppose we're in the new side of Nashville, but you can certainly feel this energy boiling and bubbling and in this sort of bloodline, this lifeline of energy. There's certainly an interesting scene going on now in this time. There's so much influence, so much inspiration and so many great artists here. I think it certainly offers us an alternative perspective to growing up in a small town … It's very strange, different, but also a very beautiful and unique thing.

How do you hope the band can be socially conscious beyond music?

Jake: You imbue things that you're saying, that you're creating. You become those things. I think that's ultimately natural, habitual for us to emanate those things, project them.

We're looking at a very new generation, we're looking for new problems to solve. These are the things that we're concerning ourselves with, in a certain sense, but also advocating for, sexuality, equality, etc. This year has certainly been a whirlwind for many different understandings, how we as a society can understand new challenges. I think we do participate ourselves in some of those things outside of the music.

Zakk Cervini On Producing Yungblud, Finding Inspiration During Quarantine And Why Rock Might Roar Back After COVID-19

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Zoé

Photo: Dana Trippe

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Zoé Continue To Build On Their Indie Synth Rock Legacy With 'Sonidos De Kármatica Resonancia'

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Zoé's Ángel Mosqueda talks about all the magic that went into creating 'Sonidos de Kármatica Resonancia,' the band's progression over the years and having Latin American legends record their versions of Zoé's songs
Alexis Hodoyán-Gastélum
GRAMMYs
Apr 20, 2021 - 5:16 am

Though it may not seem like it—given that sounds like reggaeton pop are currently dominating the so-called Latin music field in the streaming age—Mexicans can be huge rock snobs. So the fact that Zoé, with their signature indie rock and synthpop sonic identity, are one of today’s most emblematic Mexican rock en Español bands in and out of Latin America—a place where rock still has an invested audience—more than solidifies their position in the rock history books.

The 24-year-old band continues to build on their legacy with Sonidos de Kármatica Resonancia, their latest album since 2018’s Aztlán, released on April 16. Though their seventh album as a band, creating Sonidos de Kármatica Resonancia gave vocalist León Larregui, bassist Ángel Mosqueda, guitarist Sergio Acosta, keyboardist Jesús Báez, and drummer Rodrigo Guardiola a few firsts. "It was the first time we used different techniques to record an album, and I think there was a lot of enthusiasm on the band’s part of doing something like that," Mosqueda shared through WhatsApp call as he lounged in his Mexico City bed. "To play and record together [in the same booth] was something the band wanted to do for a long time, and we finally got to do it."

Last year brought them another unexpected first, one that changed the way they promote their music: releasing half of the album’s tracklist as singles. The band began working on Sonidos de Kármatica Resonancia in 2019 and had it locked and loaded for a 2020 release. The pandemic, of course, ended up throwing a wrench into those plans. Instead, Zoé released five singles throughout the year: "SKR," "Fiebre," "Karmadame," and "El Duelo." Their track "Velur" followed up earlier this year and now, with the album release, "Popular" is their latest single.   

Most notably, however, is the fact that the band worked with Craig Silvey, known for his work with Arcade Fire and Florence & the Machine, to produce the full album. Zoé teamed up with Silvey for some of the songs on the 2019 GRAMMY-winning album Aztlán and wanted to pursue a new direction with Sonidos de Kármatica Resonancia. Up until this album, the band had worked with Phil Vinall for their entire careers. "We’re eternally grateful [to Phil]," Mosqueda explained. "He taught us a lot. Our albums [with him] turned out incredibly. It was an amazing phase." Thanks to the nostalgic 70’s rock n’ roll flair Silvey brought into the mix, Zoé fully dove into a trippier, lucid dream-like experience with SKR. 

Zoé’s sound remains a galactic voyage, complemented with poetically introspective lyrics that simultaneously look out into the world. And though the band, who just announced their lengthy album- supporting U.S. tour, went for a heavily psychedelic sound and explored new production techniques on their new album, there’s a comforting familiarity in these songs that let you know: Yup, this is a Zoé album. 

Mosqueda spoke to GRAMMY.com last week about all the magic that went into creating Sonidos de Kármatica Resonancia, the band’s progression over the years and having Latin American legends record their versions of Zoé’s songs.

This interview was conducted in Spanish and translated to English; it has been edited and condensed for clarity.

I was recently rewatching the music video for "Azul" off of your previous album Aztlán and the plot deals with the outbreak of a virus epidemic. Two years later, do you think that’s a bit trippy given the current state of the world?

Yeah, those are things that happen. León really likes science fiction, and in this case, the story coincided in a certain way with this issue, with what happened later. And it’s something that can keep on happening. There’s always new viruses, there’s always new beings that affect us. So yes, it’s particularly interesting. 

This new album, Sonidos de Kármatica Resonancia, is the follow up to 2018’s GRAMMY-winning Aztlán. How do you feel about releasing this new record coming back from this big win?

We’re very happy. We think Aztlán was a great album that had many achievements. Among them, winning a GRAMMY, which we obviously feel very flattered, happy, and satisfied about. With this new album, we’re also very happy with the entire production process [of] recording the album. We think this will be a great release, viene con todo (we put everything into it). We’ve had a lot of support, and we’re very confident about SKR too.  

Can you talk about the story behind the album’s name?

The title makes a reference to our own music, what we’ve been doing during our now long career of a bit over 20 years. We wanted this album to have songs that are very Zoé. We believed this was a good moment to look back at our own careers and our career as a band and look at what we’ve been doing, look at the number of songs that have passed first before us and then have become part of the people’s liking. [The album] deals with that. An introspection, of looking into our own influences, both individually and as a group, and also how the influence that the group is already exerting over us when we’re composing. So on these songs [on the album] like "SKR," we can see ourselves not only in the present but also throughout our entire careers. And that what Sonidos de Kármatica Resonancia means — the music that resonates with you, that’s already part of you. 

"Popular" is the newest single. How did this song come to be?

This song is the most pop-sounding on the album, and to me personally, I love it. This song comes from two different songs. We fused one song that Chuco and I [had worked on] a demo.  León also had another demo and what we did was combine part of his song and part of ours and the result is "Popular." It’s a song we’ve always had our eye on because we knew it had those pop characteristics that are very Zoé. I think it’s a nice song. 

The album opens up with "Popular," which as you mentioned is a more upbeat track, and then it takes you on a trip that ends a little bit darker than how it started. 

On one hand we have songs that have worked really well, on the popular side, precisely, or on a mainstream level. And we also have other songs that are a bit crazier, more experimental, and even darker. The [second half] of the album is like that. I think that when fans listen to [the album cuts], they’ll have both worlds of Zoé synthesized in 10 songs. Well, that’s the intention. It would be practically impossible to do so, but that’s the intention. 

In reference to the singles that are already out, I read that you said "Velur" was the song that reflects how the band makes music. Can you expand on that?

"Velur" has a structure that’s very, very Zoé. I feel like it’s in the family of songs like "No Me Destruyas" and "Vía Láctea," without them necessarily being alike. I’d categorize that song in that same universe because, [on "Velur"] the composition is very simple, with a very simple harmony, a lush melody; [it’s] very easy to understand, and very catchy. The chorus comes in where our other choruses come in on these types of songs. [And then] there are songs on the album that are something else completely. Like you said, [on] the last three songs, the structure is very different, the chorus comes in who knows where, [but "Velur"] got a very compact treatment. It has a guitar riff, I believe, between verse 1 and 2 that’s typical Zoé. It was something that was done consciously. I wouldn’t say this is the usual way that Zoé composes music, but one of the ways Zoé composes music. Because fortunately, we have a certain brand, and our songs have a certain familiarity when it comes to our composition and structures. This album establishes that there are songs with a structure like "Velur," but there are also others like "Ese Cuadro No Me Pinta," which breaks with everything that I just mentioned, and breaks with structure, and has a very long introduction, a chorus that comes in in a very weird place. So there’s no way of pigeonholing the way that Zoé composes music.    

Now that you mention "Ese Cuadro No Me Pinta," like you said, it breaks with songs and sounds that we tend to associate with Zoé, which the first part of the album covers. Was that done intentionally? The album flows from sounds more aligned with pop and then it progressively gets darker, ending in "Bestiario," which is kind of a wtf moment. 

What happened, right? [laughs] More than it being intentional, when we compose music and when we’re arranging the songs [and] playing them in the studio, there’s a lot of intuition. The element of intuition plays a role in the creative process. On a song like "Ese Cuadro No Me Pinta," we let ourselves flow with the music, we knew it wasn’t going to be a single. We knew it was an album track in which we could extend certain things that we couldn’t do on other songs that are for radio. So, our intuition alone would tell us "give it more turns to the intro, don’t let the voice come in." Even our producer Craig Silvey would tell us, “vibe out even more.” This is a song to trip out on. And when you’re doing this, then there’s a bit of intentionality, and that’s where we start dictating which road the song is taking, and it can be a lot more free. We wouldn’t have done this exercise on "Velur." So, yes, there is a bit of intuition and a bit of intentionality. Both are present in the music. 

Speaking of Craig Silvey, how did the band come to the decision of having him produce the entire album?

With Craig, we also worked on four songs from the last album. We had an unrest about working with someone else on some songs. And things kind of worked out in a way that we had Craig on the last album. We really liked his work. We became friends, we understood each other musically really well, and for this album, the group still had that unrest about working on a full, unified album with him. We’re very, very happy that this happened. For this album, we wanted to work with the type of techniques that Craig could offer, the band thought it was the moment to try it out. And I think the result was very rewarding.

Sonidos de Karmática Resonancia is the band’s seventh album and you’ve been together for 24 years. How would you say the way you create music has changed or evolved throughout the years?

It’s changed in the sense that we have more experience. You evolve with each album, and our evolution consists of being more mature when it comes to composing, making arrangements, recording techniques. On the other hand, on each album we look to incorporate new things, new synthesizers that give you new sounds, new basses, new guitars. On this album, one of the main "development differences" was recording many songs together, playing at the same time together while we recorded. And that gave the album a special touch. It’s nothing new in music, but we hadn’t experimented with that before, and it was very fun. Some songs sound as if we were playing a show together. 

Well, now that we don’t have live shows, that vibe is more than welcomed. 

I think people will like it. The most important thing is the songs, really. The songs speak for themselves. And fortunately, the songs have come at a really good moment and we’re very happy about it. With the songs and the entire production process. 

As a bit of a side note, can we talk about Reversiones? What is it like having Latin American staples, like Alejandro Fernandez, Juanes, and Mon Laferte, record their own renditions of Zoé’s songs for a compilation album?

Well, really cool. There has been a great selection of artists who have reinterpreted our songs, people of great caliber. And other than caliber, people with a long trajectory and an enormous level of popularity. It’s an honor for us that people of that stature in this industry accepted and worked on our songs, and created great versions. It’s something really cool, to have other artists play your music.

Just to close off, is there anything you’d like to add?

I think SKR is a dignified release, a dignified representative of yet another Zoé album. It’s yet another album that has all of our affection. And we hope that if things get better globally in terms of health and economy, we can play shows because that’s primarily what we do. After making records, you gotta play them.  

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K. Flay

K.Flay

Photo: Ashley Osborn

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K.Flay On Embracing Inner Wildness & Working With Tom Morello On Her Brazen New EP 'Inside Voices'

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Kristine Flaherty finds refuge in her K.Flay moniker as an outlet for her most brash, noisy, colorful side—and 'Inside Voices' is her most personality-packed offering yet
Morgan Enos
GRAMMYs
Jun 11, 2021 - 8:31 am

Kristine Flaherty's name is not Katherine. This is a bizarre phenomenon. Over the better part of a decade, she's been misnamed and misidentified all over the planet for mysterious reasons. "So, Katherine? Katherine, right?" she tells GRAMMY.com, mimicking a terminally underprepared European interviewer. Rather than leave it alone as a pet peeve, the singer/songwriter turned it into a declaration of self: "My Name Isn't Katherine."

"It started as a joke, but then it became this meditation on 'What does it feel like to be named? What is that experience like?'" she continues. "Your name is the accumulation of hopes and dreams and fears and the context of your parents and forebears. What does it feel like to be called by the wrong name and not seen and sort of misidentified?"

This age-old question—"What's in a name?"—not only applies to the pronouns-in-bio era, but the artist known as K.Flay herself. Within this persona, the easygoing, polite and articulate artist is free to be a flippant, extroverted provocateur. Her new EP, Inside Voices, which released June 11, contains the K.Flay persona in all her multitudes. It all wraps up with "My Name Isn't Katherine," sealing its central theme of identity.

Being flippant and absurd doesn't quite jibe with social media, where declarative statements by artists are parsed like court records. K.Flay is deeply aware of this paradigm but views art as a porous place to have difficult discussions. "It's no surprise that people seek out comedy and music and literature and visual art and all these things as a salve for the harshness of the world," she says. "They're not able to, on a daily basis, have that catharsis or sublimation or expression.

GRAMMY.com had an in-depth Zoom conversation with K.Flay about the genesis of Inside Voices, working with Rage Against the Machine's Tom Morello on the EP and how unfiltered self-expression T-bones with social media.

This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.

I like how extroverted and full of melodies and attitude your music is. You're not holding back with anything. Is that an intentional approach?

I think, at first, it was not intentional. But then, once it became apparent, I leaned the f*** into it. I started working on my next project of music right before quarantine, so many of these songs began in their infancy in a pre-quarantine world and then developed and were produced and recorded and became themselves during the pandemic.

In many ways, this has been a time when I have fleshed out the essence of the difference between Kristine and K.Flay. In interviews, people are often like, "Is there a difference?" and I'm like "No." But actually, there's a huge difference. I don't know why I was saying that. There's a giant difference and it's basically what I talk about in "Four Letter Words."

Which is, I'm usually nice. I'm polite and try to be on time and respectful of others and never yell. I sort of fear confrontation in many ways. As K.Flay, I don't. I'm very expressive. I'm often fairly profane. This is where I'm able to be this; it's my alter-ego. But of course, it's a part of me. My psychological process on this EP and new music is a full embracing of that.

It's not a gratuitous celebration, but, I think, a justified celebration of: Hey, that's a part of me too. That's great, and I'm going to channel it through music and hopefully be self-aware and have enough of a sense of humor that people understand what I'm saying—that I'm in on the joke and know what I'm saying.

In many ways, this is the most confrontational music I've made. At first, that was uncomfortable. I think we all have these boundaries that feel like, "If I stay inside this space, I'm not really ruffling any feathers but I can still be edgy, or I'm still pushing the envelope a little bit." With this EP, I did feel like I was going out of my comfort zone, which is usually when you're on to something.

Is it just me, or are we living through the most humorless, self-serious era of the last several centuries?

Oh, my god. Yeah.

When I was very young and my parents were going through this very acrimonious split, my mom and I had this vagabond period for a year, kind of roaming around. We had this horrible night and we were going to a friend's house. We were both crying and [it was] raining. My mom was like, "We're going to laugh about this someday." And the minute she said that, it broke the spell. We both started laughing.

It is not always possible, in the moment, to see the humor in things. Certainly, there are things that are just not funny. However, many things in life, whether it's due to absurdity, whether it's due to its physical humor, have that element of humor. 

It's been important to me throughout my career to have that sensibility and to embrace it and acknowledge that it doesn't make what I'm doing less tough or less serious. In fact, I would say, for me, it kind of deepens it.

This moment hasn't been so conducive to that sense of release—of grappling with unknowns and reckoning with the things we're all thinking but can't say. Still, certain songwriters such as yourself aren't afraid to potentially piss people off.

Yeah, I think that's the role of somebody who makes art or music or comedy or whatever for a living.

I think about this frequently. My brother and sister, for instance, have normal jobs. They work within an institution. My sister works for the government. So she can't just go spouting off and say, "I'm usually nice, but f*** you!" She can't say that at work. And she can't say, "The world is run by lunatics, so who gives a f***? Let's light it up!" [Lyrics from "TGIF."] She definitely can't say that.

I think as a person—and particularly as a songwriter and musician—your job is to say the things other people are thinking and feeling, because you have some immunity there. Your work isn't in peril when you express yourself. In fact, your work is at its best when you express yourself.

To me, it's no surprise that people seek out comedy and music and literature and visual art and all these things as a salve for the harshness of the world—because they're not able to, on a daily basis, have that catharsis or sublimation or expression.

How'd you end up working with Tom Morello on Inside Voices?

I've known Tom for about four years. He actually cold-emailed me four years ago. He said, "Hey, I got your email address. I heard your song on the radio with my kids. I was driving them to school and I thought it was cool. Do you want to talk on the phone?" I was like, "What the f***?"

Anyhow, we ended up having a great conversation. I collaborated with him on his solo record called Atlas Underground. We did a song called "Lucky One." I loved that experience, and Tom and I got the chance to actually get to know each other and spend time together. I really appreciate his intellect and creativity. And, perhaps most significantly, his openness to music.

So, I just texted Tom: "Hey, I'm working on this song. This is what it sounds like. Would you possibly be down to play guitar? I think it'd be a perfect fit. Also, I already mentioned Rage Against the Machine in the song, so it seems like kismet.

Everyone's probably asked you about your favorite songs on Inside Voices. Instead, what are your favorite moments?

[One of] my favorite moments on the EP is In "TGIF," when the first drop hits. The producers I worked on this—who are two of my best friends—we were texting about this this morning. Man, we layered so much s***. What I was saying to them is: This song has to feel demented. Gnarly, weird and sort of dissonant. You don't know what instrument it is. It just sounds like a guttural thing.

I think the moment when we layered saxophone, me screaming, drop C guitar, some weird mellotrons that were put through [processing]—all of this noise, but following the riff. The first time I heard that I was like, "OK. I feel this, and I feel that this song is giving me power." It went from an idea that was cool to something that felt bigger than the sum of its parts.

There's also a moment in "My Name Isn't Katherine," which is the last song on the EP, where two-thirds into the song, it goes into this super-heavy sub-breakdown section where it feels like the song is considering its own weight, or whatever. 

That song started out as a joke because people have been consistently, incorrectly calling me Katherine for about eight years now.

Oof.

I don't know why, but it's everywhere. All over the world. Doing interviews in Germany, Russia, they're like, "So, Katherine? Katherine, right?" I don't know where the miscommunication is happening, because I'm very open about my name. 

So it started as a joke, but then it became this meditation on "What does it feel like to be named? What is that experience like?" Because of course, your name is the accumulation of hopes and dreams and fears and the context of your parents and forebears. What does it feel like to be called by the wrong name and not seen and sort of misidentified?

I think people feel that with their name. I think people feel that with their gender. Often with their ethnic or racial identity. There are many ways in which people are misidentified and misunderstood.

When we were trying to make this song, we finally got to that point and I was like, "I think this is a song and it should go on this." But it didn't make sense to me until we reached that really heavy section.

I feel like the central question of this moment is "Who am I?"

It's super interesting. I think at the heart of putting your pronouns on Instagram and being front-facing with some of these identifiers is an effort to preempt that misunderstanding, because the misunderstanding feels very upsetting.

I'm sure there's a whole psychology to it depending on the nature of the misunderstanding, but perhaps in a world where arguably any human being can be more known than ever—everyone's at an all-time high of knowability—it's also, strangely, because of maybe the wide spectrum of identifiers, the apex of being totally unknown and misunderstood.

That strikes me as a pretty interesting juxtaposition. I don't know if I have any insight about it other than that's the case.

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Adam Duritz

Adam Duritz

Photo: Mark Seliger

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Adam Duritz On Counting Crows' New EP 'Butter Miracle, Suite One' & Finally Catching A Break From The Critics

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After years of touring hard and writing very little, Adam Duritz headed to an English farm, cleared his head and wrote the strongest Counting Crows music in decades: 'Butter Miracle, Suite One'
Morgan Enos
GRAMMYs
May 18, 2021 - 1:55 pm

Adam Duritz just made crawfish bread and the responses are bowling him over. In a recent episode of his cooking show—which has all but subsumed Counting Crows' Instagram account—Duritz gave a notoriously finicky New Orleans dish the old college try. The base elements are relatively simple—spices, veggies, crawfish—but to make it come out as anything but a pizza or a calzone is a Sisyphean ordeal. 

"It's near-impossible to recreate," he tells GRAMMY.com over Zoom from his home in New York City. "I'm on the verge of getting it."

The crawfish bread feels metaphorical for the GRAMMY-nominated band themselves. These days, some may not view them as toothsome as Cajun cuisine. But early on, the slightly mystical rock band with an eccentric leader was almost universally acclaimed. ("We couldn't buy a bad review," Duritz says.) But as he admits, a mix of factors—from tabloid drama to radio omnipresence to an increasingly poppy sound—undermined Counting Crows' image. That they had arguably never made a bad album was powerless against a thousand Shrek 2 jokes.

But as Counting Crows' new EP, Butter Miracle, Suite One, out May 21, wafts in, so does the true essence of the band, one unfairly obfuscated by snickers for too long. The suite's four songs—"Tall Grass," "Elevator Boots," "Angel of 14th Street," and "Bobby and the Rat Kings"—are plugged into their bulletproof inspirations, from Big Star to the Small Faces; Duritz is as emotive and poetic and beautifully skewed as ever. 

When the rest of the band kicks into gear, it feels like a self-evident argument for Counting Crows as a great American rock band—one that just made a big circle back to the artistic terrain of 1999's This Desert Life. And, Duritz says, the world is coming back around to them after years of being viewed as—in his words—"a joke." "I think the public must love us because it's been almost 30 years," he concludes. "The average rock career doesn't even exist."

GRAMMY.com caught up with Adam Duritz to discuss the long road to Butter Miracle, Suite One and the sometimes fraught dynamic between his band and the public.

Butter Miracle, Suite One

This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.

It's commendable that you spent the pandemic not feeling sorry for yourself but flexing a new muscle in your brain.

I get really anxious about that sort of thing. When you write songs and play music, there's a lot of your life where it's not easy. It's not an easy thing to feel like you're really going to do it [for the rest of] your life. There were a lot of years where I was struggling in the clubs where it was like: I don't have a future. 

I got a job, but I'm doing construction or landscaping. I'm washing dishes. Or there's some stretch of time where I don't have a job. It was 10 years in the clubs for me of an uncertain future and not being sure what's happening and feeling like a bum. To this day, coming out of a matinee at a movie theater into the sunlight gives me anxiety because it reminds me of a time where I didn't have much going on.

We took 2019 off. That was our year off of touring. Then, we were going to tour in 2020, and you know what happened. There were points during this year where it just felt like I'm back where I don't have a job. Which freaks me out a little bit. I know it's free-floating anxiety because I do have a job and I'll be fine anyway. But this whole last year and a half definitely made me feel anxious about not working at all.

You know, that app, Cameo? I started doing those because I was like, "I can't sit around and not do anything. I need to earn some money so I feel like I have a job. I've got to do it because it's driving me crazy."

When I listen to "Elevator Boots," I envision this Elton John-like soul that's leaping out of you while, in reality, you're on your couch. Your internal life is Queen-sized.

There was a point when I was writing and recording it where it felt like that. I was so excited about making this suite. Once I started writing it and got the idea for what I could do, I was champing at the bit to get in, record it and put it out. I wanted everyone to hear it.

Then we ran into a pandemic when we were 85% done with the record. In the last couple of days in the studio, we were going to take two weeks off and then bring the other two guitar players in, because they hadn't played on it yet. We were going to finish up their stuff, mix it and be done. 

This was the first week in March. We were sitting there watching the news in the studio [and saying] "Uh, this doesn't look good. At all." Sure enough, right when we hit that break was right when the quarantine came down. It wasn't until July that we finished.

To zoom out, I feel like the story of Butter Miracle, Suite One begins in the years after 2014's Somewhere Under Wonderland. What was going on with the band in that long stretch of time between albums?

Well ... we toured a lot. We were working. There's always a few years after we put out a record, but in that case, we did it for another three or four years, maybe. Up until 2019, because we had been working probably for a decade straight. Which, of course, was bad timing for a vacation. 

I started spending a lot of time over in England. My friend has this farm in the West. It's kind of in the middle of nowhere. There's no one around. Sometimes, my friend was there with his family. Sometimes, my girlfriend was there. But other times, I was alone. It was just me and their dogs and the horses and whatever wildlife there was, which is a s**tload. Miles and miles of hill and dale.

I hadn't wanted to write for a while and I found myself wanting to, so I rented a keyboard in London and got a friend to drive it down one weekend. I started playing it because I was by myself and I started writing. The weird thing about dissociation is that I don't retain things. I actually forget how to play the piano if I don't play all the time. Every time I start a record, I generally have to learn to play the piano again. It's not automatic.

That song ["Tall Grass"] starts out very simple, I think because that was all I could play at the time. And it opens up into a much more melodic thing, but when I finished it and played the whole song through, seeing how it felt, I was just vamping at the end, playing those two chords back and forth and singing, "I don't know why/I don't know why."

I switched to those two chords and it felt good there. I sang this line off the top of my head [croons] "Bobby was a kid from 'round the town." I said, "Oh, that's great. That's a whole different feel. That's not an extension of this song. That's a different song. I should work on that." I started, and then it occurred to me: "I can write a series of songs where the end of one is the beginning of the next. They can be different songs, but they can flow just like that."

When I finished that song, I did it again. I got really caught up in how cool that could—that idea of a four-song suite, or a series of four-song suites. I got really excited and inspired. Really inspired. It was the first time I wanted to create like that in a little while.

Was writing tricky for you in the preceding years?

Not tricky. I just didn't really feel like doing it. It wasn't that it was hard; I just didn't want to. I love the creative process. It's hard, but it's satisfying. Making records is even harder and even more satisfying. All of it I really love. It's not always the same when you put it out.

Everything up to that point is just you. You and your band. You and your group of people you always work with. It's nothing but your desire to create. When you put it out in the world, there's all this other stuff that comes back. A lot of other people's takes on it. Their criticism of it. Their insinuations to the negative about what it's about. This idea that you're pulling the wool over people's eyes. The weird relationship between artists and critics can sometimes be so antagonistic.

And there's a lot of s**t that goes with it that I don't like as much when it involves the rest of the world. I like making it, but I don't necessarily always like sharing it. At times in my life, the concept of writing and making art and putting it out there has seemed like the route to all my dreams coming true, and other times, it seems like just asking for trouble.

But also, I think music has been so central and important in my life that I didn't think other things were important at all. Happiness didn't seem at all central like leaving a mark did. But I think in recent years, I also got more into getting my life together. Being happier, maybe. Just learning to live a little more rewarding life than just killing myself to create.

Adam Duritz

Adam Duritz performing in 1993. Photo: Steve Eichner/WireImage​

How would you describe the dynamic between Counting Crows and the public?

It comes and it goes. There were times when we were everyone's idea of the bright new thing. We were great and everybody thought we were great. We couldn't buy a bad review. And there were years when I think we were completely dismissed and thought of as sort of a joke.

Then it comes back, and people seem to think you're good again and respected again. But you've got to learn that other people's take on you can only be so important. It's so variable. You can have a front row at a concert and it's all you can see, and they don't give a s**t. They're just f**king around and talking to each other and they're bored. But does that mean you should be pissed off and not play a good show? Because there are 10,000 people behind them you can't see. You don't want to be dependent on that front row ... You start to learn after a while that it's not worth investing too much in everybody's response.

It's really important that you be inspired and play great and that you want to be there and that you give it your all. You really need to be good for everybody. You can't see everybody. You don't know if they love you or don't love you. It's only so important how everybody takes it, but it does get to be a downer at times. But I think the public must love us because it's been almost 30 years, and the average rock career doesn't exist. The average rock career never even happens. It's a very, very, very tiny percentage of people that get signed, an even smaller percentage that actually put a record out. 

My view is that you guys are a great American rock band, full stop. Maybe the only true artistic successor to Van Morrison. But you said there was a point where people may have viewed the band as a joke. Why do you think that was?

Because you annoy the s**t out of people when you're really successful. On the very simplest level, having massive success on the radio means they will play you every hour. And that will annoy the f**k out of people! 

After a while, it's like, "I don't want to hear the same s**t in my car every day." They're not trying to sustain your career. It's the radio's business to play what people want to hear so they get advertising dollars. So, yeah. Too much success doesn't really breed more of it all the time.

The other thing is that music's different from other art forms. It's like our personal cool. [points to Love's Forever Changes album art on his T-shirt] We literally wear it on our shirts. It's the soundtrack to all our memories and moments in our lives.

It's really important to how we feel about ourselves. It's natural to love discovering something and feel like it's yours. You're one of the few who understands something. It's a whole other matter a year later when you have to share that band you love with that a**hole at the water cooler who loves the worst f***ing s**t! He's always playing something you hate, and now he likes your band, too.

At that point, it's not as appetizing to you. That's just human nature. Success breeds some backlash. Very few bands go through life without it. Someone like R.E.M., who has six indie records, that builds that slowly—that's like Teflon. Radiohead. Nobody's really sitting around thinking they're just boring and s***ty. We might not want to buy the record because we think it's too Radiohead, but we're not dismissing them.

There were years where we just didn't have reviews of live shows or records. They were like, "Here's Adam whining again while he's f***ing famous chicks." That just became the narrative. Then it kind of cleans itself up and rehabilitates itself ... Nobody goes 30 years and stays beloved. It's impossible.

I think you guys belong to a class of artists everyone's made up their minds about before actually listening. Randy Newman. Jethro Tull. Steely Dan. The Eagles. But when I sense that there's prejudice toward an artist for no good reason, that makes me love and defend them.

I read a lot of articles from people who like our band that begin, "Bear with me. I think Counting Crows is brilliant. I know, I know. But let me explain." They're apologizing at times. This lets me know that at least, at some point, someone told them [we weren't] cool. 

I think that goes around. There was a long period of time where people had made their minds up about us. I don't know how that is now. I can't tell. I certainly read a lot more open-minded reviews and responses to things. There were years when we couldn't get that. We get a lot of writers putting a lot of thought into what they think about us. Whether they like us or don't like us, or they think it's a good or bad record, it's not about some tabloid thing. It's about the music. That's come around for us in a lot of ways, which is a relief.

It seems like the time on the farm has given you a lot of peace and perspective. I imagine you as Van Morrison on the cover of Veedon Fleece with the two Irish wolfhounds.

Yeah. It was a Greater Swiss Mountain Dog and a Rottweiler!

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