Keyboard Kid, born Greg Phillips, is perhaps best known for his work with Lil B, the 22 year old rapper/rap deconstructionist who’s back catalogue numbers at least 1400 songs. Keyboard Kid and Lil B have been working together since 2007, their partnership creating such modern classics as “Chasing the Rain”; “Lone Warrior”; and “I Hate Myself.” While Lil B has worked with many producers, it’s Keyboard Kid who best reflects the emotionally unguarded, anything-is-admissible tone of Lil B’s rhymes.

To my mind, there are three fundamental sounds inherent in each of Keyboard Kid’s beats. The first is the heart-stirring, triumphant marches found in video games and anime. As recontextualized by Keyboard Kid, the digital strings and slow fall of notes that makes even the most tedious stretches of Zelda feel epic create a rich, emotional canvas for each track. The second element is the longing and vulnerability of the singer-songwriter, reduced to a granular level of desperate croons and twinkling piano. The captivating pop of Imogen Heap features heavily, but most of the drifting voices are too abstract and ghostly to be identified. The final piece is almost unmentionable, its presence so key for hip hop that it seems weird to single it out, but Keyboard Kid’s use of bass externalizes the daydream and self-awareness of the other sounds, shifting his compositions to an intensely physical plane.

Critical reviews to his first few releases all detailed Keyboard Kid’s work with Lil B, with Soulja Boy, and with Main Attrakionz, highlighting the strength and seamlessness of his production. They also all mention how eager they are to hear rappers atop the beats. But the last couple months have shown a turn, with listeners embracing the instrumentals, allowing the complexity and warmth of Keyboard Kid’s arrangement to carry their interests. Perhaps the songs have seeped more completely into consciousness, or wintertime skies have tipped us towards their wordless introspection, but my sense is that it’s the unmitigated impact of the bass, groundling listeners into place and time, that inspires this contentment.

On Friday, March 23, 2012, Keyboard Kid will make his New York debut at the New Museum, further exploring the physical nature of his music. While the standard format for hearing his music tends towards the introversion of headphones, this performance promises an opportunity to bridge the community-minded/everyone is welcome spirit of the Based movement as championed by Lil B and Keyboard Kid with the unparalleled audio experience of hearing the bass in its intended glory.

To purchase tickets, or for more information, please visit the New Museum website.

Ethan Swan: What does “Based” mean to you?
Greg Phillips: I started out with Lil B when he was starting to put his own “Based World” movement together. I heard a song by Lil B that was called “I’m Okay, Stay Based” and it was like this trance-y, kind of electro sounding song and it had like a Lil Jon sample in it, very low quality, but I thought it was dope so it was like, I know we can make dope music. So I hit Lil B up, and got to know him a little bit, and I asked him, I wanted to know what “based” means. He told me it was a negative saying they used in the bay area to call people slow and stuff, and put people down. So he wanted to take something that was negative and flip it into a positive. Basically, for us it’s just kind of being the rebels, the outsiders in the rap but still doing what we want no matter what people think. It’s also just positive man, we want to promote positivity, we want to break down barriers and bring all kind of people together. It’s kind of a broad meaning, I think it’s great though because it welcomes all kind of people. It doesn’t matter who you are, just stay true to you and we don’t want to judge you for that. We want to accept you for who you are.

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On the occasion of their New York debut at the New Museum, Seattle artists Keyboard Kid & Darwin have put together a mix of original productions, remixes and tunes they have been feeling as of late. The mix contains sounds ranging from the mystical melancholy of Keyboard’s remix of Kid Smpl’s ‘On’ to the early Acid House stylings of 666-RAVE.

All in a BASED mind-set

Full tracklist below:

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The last 18 months has seen rapid development and mutation of electronic-based instrumental music. Seemingly obsolete gestures have reemerged: the well-meaning tones of ambient music, the lulling repetition of Krautrock, the starry-eyed spirituality of New Age. The contemporary artists exploring this territory—examples include Emeralds, Oneohtrix Point Never, and Infinite Body—tend to describe sound as an illustrative force, a palette that reaches from saw-toothed buzzsaw to cradling gentle curves. One of the key commonalities within this genre is the tendency towards sounds that are easier to describe as colors than as notes.

Interestingly, many of the best-known artists in this scene have migrated from noise music. While this blissful haze seems a far cry from the harshness of noise, the transition does make a lot of sense. Both strains treat sound as a form to be sculpted; both tend towards non-traditional or homemade instruments; both value the force of sound; and both are most successful when listeners surrender to this force.

Based on the evidence of their first two releases, Damned Dogs stand as one of the brightest examples of this new development in electronic music. Their daring and care seems to know no bounds, and the resulting compositions wend from the weightlessness of sleep to the menace of nightmare, combining a deep respect for melody with a wordless, descriptive spirit. And although the two members of Damned Dogs have participated in noise groups in the past, they are best known together as two of the four members of pop group Swimsuit, and Thomas individually as the bandleader and songwriter of indie band Saturday Looks Good to Me.

For the music of Damned Dogs, the effect of this alternate lineage is stunning. Their songs carry all of the evocative, physical presence of their peers, however their respect for melody creates a singular, seductive form. Many of the artists making this sort of experimental electronic music tend towards the futuristic, perhaps even the dystopic, creating a sleek, barricaded sound. By contrast, Damned Dogs have lined their music with an intensely generous spirit, embracing listeners with an unlikely post-New Age, radically non-traditional, and occasionally bleak catchiness.

This generosity is more than a quality to their music, it’s part of a larger framework or philosophy guiding the duo. Damned Dogs belong to a fiercely independent and supportive community of artists, one that often recasts the familiar DIY (Do It Yourself) as DIT (Do It Together). The importance of this community to their practice resonates with every one of their gestures: from the distribution of their releases (hand-duplicated cassettes and digital downloads); to the places they perform (often benefit shows or informal gatherings); to the diversity of their taste (as evidenced by the mix they created for this show).

In advance of their performance at the New Museum, which will be their New York debut, Damned Dogs created a digital mix of some recent favorite songs:

They also took the time to answer some questions via email about their practice, their philosophy, and the openness suggested by their band name.

Damned Dogs perform Friday, February 24^th at 7pm with Soft Circle at the New Museum. More information and ticket sales available via the New Museum website.

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“What does it sound like? Sixties Italian horror movie soundtracks performed by a seven-piece all-female matriarchal tribe whose gods are [1970s UK post punk band] … And the Native Hipsters. Vocal harmonies and non-traditional rock instruments – blowy things and honking noises and funk and pop and it’s massively inventive.”
-Tasmin Chapman, for Collapse Board

It’s okay to be skeptical of such bombastic text. We have grown accustomed to the absurd, unimaginable combinations of signifiers put forth by rock critics, and in most cases they fail to impart any meaning. But please listen to Muscles of Joy’s nine minute saga “Water break-its-neck” and see if you’re not touched by the same chattering fervor:

02 Water break-its-neck by Muscles of Joy

I believe there’s a connection between the nature of the visionary rants inspired by Muscles of Joy and the music itself. The group’s sound, centered upon the human voice, is effusive and flowing, reveling in utterance. This investigation of possibility, each song an opportunity for developing new arrangements of sound, acts as its own missionary. Listeners encountering Muscles of Joy are drawn to similar fluttering, stretching, and discombobulating of language and voice.

The members of Muscles of Joy are sculptors, painters, filmmakers, animators, and photographers, participants in Glasgow’s renowned, tightly-knit arts community. The evidence of these varied practices are clearly apparent in the music—their respect for space, form, and gesture are some of the most distinguishing elements of their sound. The effect of working within a creative community is also clear, with the contrast between vocal unity and fragmentation utilized to great effect. Some of these lessons were learned as several of the members sang with The Parsonage, a 40+ member choir that covered Joy Division and recorded with Echo and the Bunnymen, but Muscles of Joy’s relationship with singing goes beyond the power and majesty of choral music.

For Muscles of Joy, vocals sounds are endlessly flexible, a renewable resource that offers unlimited possibility for exploration. There’s a playfulness, the delight in sound that accompanies learning a language, but there is also rigor. The density of their voices and the attention paid to arrangement illustrates the focus and vision applied to their music.

04 Coins across his hips by Muscles of Joy

Even at their most propulsive, songs by Muscles of Joy make room for experimentation. The jagged guitar and marching drums of “Coins across his hips” contains the refrain “don’t try to rush her,” a single voice repeating the words, a chant that resists the song’s pace. As the composition evolves, the rest of the band joins in, adding their voices, creating counterpoints, darting through the holes left in the first vocal. A song that begins in the familiar post-punk tradition of Delta 5 or the Fall suddenly dissolves into an arcane exchange that feels almost ritual. This bewilderment, the wonder of how we got here from there is a common experience with Muscles of Joy, one that retains its magic every time.

Anne-Marie Copestake of Muscles of Joy took some time from their preparations to answer questions in advance of their New York debut. Muscles of Joy perform at the New Museum on Friday, January 27^th at 7pm. Tickets are still available at the New Museum visitor services desk and online.

Ethan Swan: I’m interested in the role of economy for Muscles of Joy. The human voice is an immediately accessible instrument—free, portable, elastic. Many of the instruments you use, for example hand percussion, or even the way you use instruments, such as the single note guitar playing, share these qualities. You’ve also built your own instruments—the marching machine, for example. Is there a political gesture embedded in these decisions? Or is a question of access?

Anne-Marie Copestake: With the marching machines there was an actual economic reason for making them in the sense that I initially built them as I didn’t have a drum kit. I wanted to find ways to make a beat and thought about building something quite basic that would provide a means to make simple rhythms. This economy of means in approach probably also stems from having been through art school and having very little money to make work with. You become used to making things yourself within tight limits, finding solutions and ways to create with very low to no budgets, and not being able to just go out and buy everything, I think this is significant.

An economy of music possibly arises from our manner in rehearsals and playing together, where initially much was quite tentative, slowly building confidence and discovering what each person desired to do with the music that was being made, and the fact that we wanted to make sure each of us felt we had enough space to experiment and play music in.

ES: One of the things I’m most struck by in your recordings is the acknowledgment of space in the songs. The arrangement of sounds, specifically the vocal sounds, creates the feeling of three dimensions, which is not often found in music. Do you consider voice a plastic medium? Is there a connection to be made with your individual studio practices (sculpture, photography, hair, etc.)?

AMC: Everyone probably acknowledges their own varying tastes and inclinations, and at times there can seem to be connections to approaches in individuals practice as artists. As a group I think one of the foundations of Muscles of Joy and in making music together is in following instincts and not having pre-conceptions of where things will lead. Later on, when a track is played that is liked, enjoyed, and therefore repeated and initially structured, creating and defining space is always a big part of the structuring work. There is also the thought that no one voice is more important than any other, thus perhaps working away from the idea of a ‘lead singer’ necessitates acknowledging space too.

With the track ‘Water break-its-neck’ for example, we spent a day trying out vocal phrasing and sounds based on the words – water break its neck – recording numerous combinations of singing parts of that name, but also with an amount of playfulness which we do try not to temper too early. Everyone has a distinctly different voice in its power and range and clarity, and I think we have tried to use each person’s particular qualities. There are some very strong singers, and softer voices. I think my voice often sounds like a ghost coughing in the middle of a forest.

ES: What are the benefits to having so many members? What are the pitfalls?

AMC: I think the benefits in having so many members in a band extends to include all the people we have worked with too. We have been really fortunate in that they were, and are, very open, generous, and good fun people. Dep Downie who initially approached us about releasing a record and encouraged us to take our time making sure all aspects of the album felt right; Andy Miller who did all the incredible recordings for the album at Gargleblast; Jamie Grier who mixed the tracks sitting in the middle of us; Emily Roff who saw us knowing nothing and took a leap of faith inviting us to do gigs, and Fielding Hope inviting us to do festivals. (Emily and Fielding present some of the most interesting events in Scotland under the names Tracer Trails and Cry Parrot respectively).

I would say the pitfalls are logistics and finances, both hard to juggle.

ES: Your performance at the New Museum is a part of a larger trip to the US. What else are you doing while in America?

AMC: In New York we are also doing a radio session for WFMU, but prior to that our first ever performance in the United States is at the Isabella Stuart Gardner Museum in Boston, in their new concert hall.

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Herbert Pfostl, the New Museum’s buyer, has rounded up his 20 favorite titles of 2011.

1. I Listen to the Wind that Obliterates My Traces: Music in Vernacular Photographs 1880-1955
Edited by Steve Roden
DUST-TO-DIGITAL

2. Into One-Another
Berlinde De Bruyckere in Dialogue with Cranach and Pasolini
Hirmer Publishers

3. Alfred Jarry: A Pataphysical Life
Alastair Brotchie
MIT Press

4. Pierre Molinier by Pierre Molinier
PRESSES/MENNOUR ENG ED
PRESSES DU REEL

5. Curious Visions of Modernity: Enchantment, Magic, and the Sacred
David L. Martin
MIT Press

6. Toys of the Avant-Garde
José Lebrero Stals, Juan Bordes, and Carlos Pérez
Hudson Hills Press

7. Decadence: In Morbid Colours: Art and the Idea of Decadence in the Bohemian Lands 1880-1914
Otto M. Urban. Text by Lubo Merhaut, Daniel Vojtech
Artefakt/Arbor Vitae

8. The Perpetual Motion Machine: The Story of an Invention
Paul Scheerbart
Wakefield press

9. Vertical Thoughts: Morton Feldman and the Visual Arts
Irish Museum of Modern Art

10. Miroslav Tichy: Form of Truth
Gianfranco Sanguinetti
Kant

11. The Hierarchies of Cuckoldry and Bankruptcy
Charles Fourier
Wakefield Press

12. Ruins
Edited by Brian Dillon
MIT Press

13. R.H. Quaytman: Spine
Sternberg Press

14. Redheaded Peckerwood
Christian Patterson
MACK Publishing

15. Harold Strak – Arthropoda
Flip Bool
Van Zoetendaal Gallery

16. Surface Series
Batia Suter
Roma Publications

17. Spomenik
Jan Kempenaers
Roma Publications

18. Fanged Noumena: Collected Writings 1987-2007
Nick Land
Urbanomic / Sequence Press

19. Richard Prince: Collected Writings
Edited by Kristine McKenna
Foggy Notion Books

20. Alina Szapocznikow: Awkward Objects
Edited by Agata Jakubowska
Museum of Modern Art in Warsaw

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