Interview with internethacker

In the digital age and as products of the digital generation, it seems natural that young musicians are abandoning the typical guitar-drums-bass-singer quadruplet in favour of a more manufactured, electronic sound. As technology develops, the music scene does so too in order to accommodate the full spectrum of possibilities now available to aspiring musicians. This is certainly the case with Salem Khazali, alias internethacker, whose breezy synth tunes soundtrack the current fascination with creating music with just a computer.

Even his name demonstrates the control that young artists are gaining over their new materials. When asked where it came from, his answer demonstrates the blend that is in process between digital technology and music; he says 'me and my secondary school friend Mark started a project called Tainted Faces in 2012 [...] We took influences from the emerging web stylings of electronic witch house and glitch pop/trap/ The way I'd work on stuff was from chopping up sound glitches that I'd made, so he jokingly called me the internet hacker once, and it stuck.' Then, as an afterthought, and even a further comment on the changing environment of music promotion: 'I was also really stoked that it was available as a username, so that was a bonus.'

Although a London lad born and raised, Khazali moved to Falmouth in Cornwall in September of last year to pursue a degree in graphic design. Surely such a drastic change of scenery would have had some effect on the production of his music? He says, 'what I've noticed is the hang of pace. Things happen a lot slower here, there's less of a bustle, and there isn't much of an emphasis on being totally goal-oriented. Rather, people are doing things the way they know works, so it's more of a quality over quantity vibe. The way this affects my music is that I get quite absorbed into one track, whereas when I was in London I tried to push out a collection on Soundcloud quite quickly.'

Khazali notes that this pressure to bulk up his body of work was rather restrictive, commenting, 'I've probably deleted half of my work from Soundcloud because I really want to work on one sound instead of bouncing around from genre to genre.'


Living outside of London does have its drawbacks, however. 'My friends have met [Jamie xx] on nights out recently.' Whilst this seems rather trivial, Khazali cites Jamie xx as one of the positive examples for him in the music industry, a notoriously cut-throat world. 'He keeps it simple, real, and about the music [...] He is very humble and thankful for how he's blown up and I really like that. I dunno, just let the music speak for itself unless your persona is making some kind of point. [That's why] I also really like his anonymity.'

When it comes to describing his own writing process, Khazali is as in-depth, meticulous and eager as his music would suggest. As a base, he 'starts with modifying a synth until it sounds how I feel at the time. It's way more about melodies for me than anything else... the words just sort of fall into place.' Next comes the beat, and in this he draws inspiration from 'noughties hip hop at the moment, but I've delved into witch house and trap house.' To add interest to an already fascinating mixture of tracks, Khazali says that 'I'm clasically trained so a lot of my chord techniques are heavily influenced [by] my violin scales.'

From what Khazali intimates, it's a very spontaneous process, incredibly multimedia ('I spend a lot of time writing random things in a sketchbook, so that's where the words come from'), adding details of 'what sounds right from the get-go'. However, this apparent spontaneity can be deceptive. 'The time it takes [to make a track] will vary so much from a few hours to a few weeks. I care a lot about it being organic, but the length of time won't change the heart and soul that I hope can be heard in the final result.'

In terms of the artists that inspire him, Khazali notes Moby, Royksopp (Eple is my all-time fave') and Kanye West, to name but a few. 'I really like clever sampling and production that is detailed but not over-worked, so it's a philosophy that I'm trying to live by'. He also notes GLOWS, a schoolmate from sixth form, as a big influence, in that 'helping to coordinate his initiative Slow Dance has been a fun way to genre bend. My softer synths on my Soundcloud can be heard clearly around the time we started doing music together.'

Internethacker is clearly more than a Soundcloud username. Internethacker is thoughtful, considered, chilled. Listen up.

Listen to internethacker here

Listen to GLOWS here

Interview with Lush's frontwoman Miki Berenyi

It’s a regular Tuesday night in everything but the fact that I am currently sat opposite Miki Berenyi, the returned frontwoman of Lush. After nearly a 20-year break, the 90s favourite indie kids make their return. Much has changed for the band in the interim: Elastica’s Justin Welch replaces Chris Acland on drums after Acland committed suicide in 1996; Berenyi all but disappeared from the music scene to start a family and hold down a regular job. In spite of this, she remains the same at the core: she sips on white wine that she brought over, and intermittently takes a few drags on an e-cigarette.

When she speaks of how it feels to be back, Berenyi says it’s ‘really quite odd actually […] I was losing sleep about having agreed to do this. I suddenly thought, “fuck, I haven’t played in twenty years, this is going to be a disaster.” And actually, it was really good to just go into the studio and sing and play guitar and think, “ok, I can still do this!”’

In spite of having been out of the game for so long, there is a clear sense of anticipation to play live again [I spoke to Berenyi before Lush’s headline shows at the Roundhouse]. ‘It’s a bit weird cos we haven’t played yet […] I went on the radio and they were like “ooh so how’s it going?” and all I can really talk about is rehearsals. I mean, I can talk about the EP a bit but even that isn’t out yet.’

Image: Allmusic

In 2015, Lush started working on Blind Spot, a new EP with new material – a fresh continuation of where the band had gotten to in their last years. ‘It’s pretty much picking up where I left off […] Although lyrically it was really difficult trying to get back into it, suddenly trying to write, thinking “ugh what did I used to write about? And what can I write about now? I can’t write about the same things!” But actually, there is a bit of a pattern to it. [My lyrics] are a bit oblique, they are personal, they are of their kind.’ She stops before ploughing on, ‘I’m not suddenly coming back like “right, I’m gonna write songs about the Labour party.” It doesn’t work like that.’

It seems strange that after such a long hiatus, Lush would decide after all that they weren’t quite finished with the music industry; everyone had assumed that they had hung up their guitars and called it a day. Not so. Berenyi says the reunion had been in the pipeline for as long as eight years, but practically just wouldn’t have worked before now. ‘I get a sabbatical after five years, so I’ve got an extra six weeks’ holiday this year,’ she explains. ‘I’m not giving up my job. That’s not gonna happen.’ She has become used to the life of a civilian: ‘If I could be at home, just open a door, play a gig and then come back and be at home, that would be great. Playing music, playing live and recording – great. But the rest of it is a fucking nightmare! It is a lot of hassle.’

For Miki, the separation from the music industry after Chris’ death was total. ‘I almost left completely. I haven’t really followed music, I wasn’t going to gigs and I haven’t played.’ She muses, ‘I don’t know how massively comfortable I ever was in that industry.’ As a response to Chris Acland’s death, everything music-related became a reminder. ‘I’m sure it’s the same for anyone who’s lost someone, but for a while you sort of randomly burst into tears, and you think you’re ready to go out and then you’re not. The music industry is not really the place to do that. You know, you’re at a gig and suddenly you’re really upset and people are like “ooh dear!” So I just completely retreated from it, just cut off all ties. Chris’ aunt trained me to become a sub-editor, and she said “ooh you should try and get work at the NME. That’s where you should go cos you know that subject”. And I wanted to go a million miles away from all of that. Totally turned my back on it, basically.’

So after what was a very conscious and decisive split from music, band business became secondary. It’s more of a case of ‘why don’t we just do this while we can’ rather than prioritising it above and beyond anything else. ‘I can still remember a flight to Japan to go and visit my mum, and I was sat for ten hours writing these lyrics because I just had to fit them in when I could.’ After musing for a moment, she adds, ‘It was really good fun!’

Image: David Lavine for the Guardian

In their heyday, Lush were pigeonholed into every imaginable genre, by the merit simply of being around. First shoegaze, then Britpop; if there’s one label they couldn’t escape, however, it was ‘girls in a band’. ‘The tricky thing,’ Miki explains, ‘is that the scene that we came from, which was really small pub gigs and a whole mix of influences, didn’t have a problem with women in bands. At grassroots level, it didn’t seem to be a problem. To be honest, it was a lot of the journalists that were fetishizing girls in bands. Then when you’re trying to be a professional and you’re going on tour, encountering crew and maybe someone local who’s doing the lights and they go “oh yeah, girl band, right I get it”. So when we were in our little enclave it was absolutely fine. I imagine it’s probably not that different now. If you’re at college I imagine it’s all very right-on and people would fucking dream of saying that shit.’

To explain what she means by ‘that shit’, Miki cites the recent interview with The Last Shadow Puppets in Spin, where Miles Kane repeatedly makes the female journalist uncomfortable by inviting her up to the bedroom. ‘Unless I stand there and act dumb, and laugh at [the men’s] jokes, it’s gonna irritate them, and then I’m a bitch.’

In terms of the constantly changing genre that they were assigned by the music press, Berenyi sees a direct correlation between this and the attitudes towards women in the industry. ‘There’s this thing in the music press of “they’re old news”. And I felt that being a woman was a part of that. It’s like, “there’s a new breed of women replacing you. We’re sick of shoegazing girls: now we want Courtney Love.” It’s one thing saying it about the music; it’s a whole other thing saying it about your gender.’

She sighs. ‘[The industry] wasn’t really created for women of 30+. When [Lush] ended I was almost 30. It gets quite difficult. When you’re 25 and it’s all kind of exciting, but there comes a point, especially for women where you think “actually I’m sick of being bloody patronised by guitar roadies”. I’m sure it’s the same for any women in the entertainment industry, but it is a bit infantile with bands.’

None of this is necessarily breaking news, of course, but every fresh report brings to light just how unfair the music industry is for women. ‘It is about men being allowed to behave a certain way, men being encouraged to behave a certain way.’ But, Berenyi argues, there is a flipside. ‘Now there are quite a lot of older women in music, whether it’s Chrissy Hynde or Debbie Harry, so for the two-steps-forward-three-steps-back that a lot of mainstream music has taken – a lot of the flesh-revealing, bitchy, un-sisterhood stuff that’s going on – there is a separate stream.’

In spite of their seemingly indefinite hiatus, Lush are back and they’re bad. ‘We’d love to make an album! But it’s all about the logistics: it’s funding it, it’s trying to find the time.’ Please find the time, Miki. I speak for the masses. Please.

Brick Lizard

Brick Lizard seem like yet another rock band trying to make it in the ever-changing music world, but there's something slightly different about them.They sound like when your little brother has just discovered rock and roll, and picks up a guitar for the first time. Although obviously their skills are far more advanced than that, they've managed to preserve an element of that essential raw passion for music that seeps through every pore of their tracks. For example, Jealous, a track from their new demo, is laden with references, musically and lyrically (the thinly veiled nod to the famous 'I drive my Chevy to the levy' from American Pie is a standout) that map their influences, giving a respectful round of applause to their roots, and then moving on, making something very new out of something as old as the hills. They play so effortlessly, and the sparse layering exudes a couldn't-really-care sort of attitude, which is enhanced by the unpolished, rough diamond vocals.

When talking about the song writing process, both Rowhan, the guitarist, and Uri, bassist and vocalist, are equally modest. "It's sort of 50-50", says Rowhan, looking for Uri's approval. The riff usually comes first, which is then perfected before Uri adds vocals and lyrics. "I've been in bands before," he says, "but I've never written lyrics for the kind of music we're playing now." No matter - the lyrics spurt out in a stream of consciousness manner, and are almost Turner-esque in their euphemistic provocativeness; in Broken Bricks, the line 'your back-door tricks for a minute on the lips won't conquer me' calls to mind the reluctant resistance of Crying Lightning.

On the subject of comparisons, the band recognises that they're hard to get away from as newcomers. When asked who they most aspire to be like, Queens of the Stone Age, Led Zeppelin and Arctic Monkeys are the first things out of their mouths. "I just wanna be Josh Homme, man", smiles Rowhan. "After a gig someone actually told me I reminded them of him. That was cool." Uri chips in, "we don't want to be a tribute band, though. It's nice for people to see our influences in our music, but we don't want to replicate them." That's what's so nice about Brick Lizard, though; they're clearly so passionate about the music they play and listen to that some of it can't help but bleed through into their own songs.

Both Rowhan and Uri have been playing music for a long time, that when I ask them what made them want to play music, they take a while to consider their answer. For Uri, it was being raised on a staple diet of The Beatles, and he references classic bassist/singer Paul McCartney as an inspiration. Rowhan, on the other hand, grew up with 'Mariah Carey shit', until exposed to Led Zeppelin by his dad, and he's never looked back. Both of them are equally into Led Zeppelin, and Uri even names his favourite bass line as Ramble On, and his best vinyl album as Houses of the Holy. The opening of Another Life oddly sounds as if Stairway to Heaven had been recorded in a Dalston studio, plus a QOTSA-inspired guitar line. The mish-mash of classical rock and grunge is oddly refreshing; one could argue that they've both been done to death, but the pure enthusiasm of the band brings something new, something interesting to the combination.

I asked them what the ultimate sign of making it would be; silence pervaded for a good few seconds. Then Rowhan pipes up, "50 million albums sold!" As they both laugh, Uri just says "well, you never know, reach for the stars."

Rating: 8.5/10

Recommended tracks:
Another Life
Broken Bricks
Jealous

Leopard

Birmingham is on a serious roll this year. Having churned out bands like Peace, Superfood, JAWS and Swim Deep, to mention just a few, they've given birth to Leopard, "a 4 piece post jazz core, acid, baggy Korean, crabmetal, grunge destroyers." I interviewed guitarist Matthew Jenkins, who says of their style, "musically, we have no idea what we sound like, but people seem to like it." Why wouldn't you? To me, they sound like Arctic Monkeys jamming with Foxygen on some far off and exotic beach; their single Breathe gives off a chilled, relaxed vibe, added to by the distant vocals and the easygoing drum beat.



All of the new Birmingham bands seem to be very close and supportive of each other; "we met at one of the above mentioned gigs and that's how we formed Leopard. It's really weird being on the whole "in circle", everyone's so nice about stuff. It's odd, people who may not like your music still appreciate it and appreciate success." There definitely seems to be that sort of familial aspect to the B-Town music scene. All of the bands go to each others gigs, promote each others tracks and party together like there's no tomorrow. Just check Swim Deep's twitter feed and you'll see what I mean.


On the subject of the current music industry, Jenkins becomes very vocal; when I asked him what he thought about the digitisation of the music industry, he says "It's definitely a lot easier to get your music heard by people through Soundcloud and other services. I think it works both ways; both unsigned and signed bands want the same thing and that's just to get your music heard." He maintains that there definitely are real rock icons of the newest musical generation - "not strictly rock, but definitely Dev Hynes, aka Lightning Champion or Blood Orange. There's loads, it's just not obvious to enough people." When I asked him what could be done to fix this, he said "people just need to get outside their box and go to see bands every week." Simple as.

I wanted to know if Leopard felt any responsibility, as a new band, to improve on the musical trends from what the previous generation had achieved, and the reply I received was very pragmatic and considered; "to a certain extent, yes, but generally if you start writing music, it'll have its own features and elements that that make itself unique, even if you get compared to previous bands. Music works in cycles." This shows an observational and measured approach to the way that Leopard approach writing music, as seen in their newest single Quick History. The way that the track builds gradually throughout and the way that the original drum pattern is adapted whilst still maintaining the original feel reflects this notion of music working in cycles; the original motifs are returned to with a tweak here and there, making the track better for it.



As a blogger, it's very interesting to investigate the background to a band - their influences, the way that they view themselves. For Matt, the artist that has the most influence on their sound is "Kevin Parker from Tame Impala. Jake's would probably be Dave Grohl." Candidly, he adds, "no idea about the other two!", and if he could travel back in time to watch one epic gig it would be "Jimmy Hendrix at the Isle of Wight, but there are too many to pick from."

Forget all the musical stuff, this is what really recommends them to me as a band: if they could choose one movie to sum up their sound, it would "probably be the Iron Giant. I'm only saying that because I want to watch it again and because we're a big hunk of metal with attitude and super heroes." Can't say fairer than that.

As all new bands are attempting to do, Leopard are clearly trying to find their footing in the musical world. If they keep on in the same vein, however, they're certain to find success. Their sound is the complete opposite of their diplomatic mannerisms; it's loud, brash an unashamedly awesome.

Rating: 9/10

Recommended tracks:
All of the above, seeing as they're the only ones they've released.

Interview with Maya Colwell

Maya Colwell is a teenage singer-songwriter from London, a guitar playing songstress, if you will. Maya posts her songs on Soundcloud, so check them out and don't forget to download, folks! She also has the esteemed merit of being one of my best friends. Nepotism, me? Nah.

So, Maya, dream question: if you could invite any four people, dead or alive, fictional or real, to a dinner party, who would you invite and why?
OK, I would invite Jennifer Lawrence, because she is amazing and hilarious; Stephen Mangan, because he is also hilarious, you know, fun dinner party; Leonard Cohen, because, you know, he's one of my idols. And F. Scott Fitzgerald, because he is a true romantic.

OK, so you've said Leonard Cohen. So does he feature as part of your influences for your songs?
I'd say his style of romance and writing about love is would be an influence. I don't think I would say he's an influence just because you can't copy what he does. My influences are more people who are a lot more easy to copy.

Fair enough. What one song by any artist ever would you say best describes your style?
That's a hard one. That is a really hard one! Erm, I have lots of different songs that kind of go with different periods of time that I'm in. I think the song that best embodies what I am would be 'Alas I Cannot Swim', by Laura Marling.

Good choice! So you've said in conversation that your songs are written as a way to deal with your emotions, and the majority of your songs are about unconditional love and dealing with that. Why do you think that's the prevailing emotion that you choose to put down?
Mostly because it's what I've experienced. Also because there's something wonderful about - it's sad, tragic and beautiful - about living this whole love story in your head, and the person who it's destined for having no idea, being completely oblivious to the utter obsession that you feel. And that's such a great emotion to be able to capture again and again and again.

There was a very descriptive line, I think it was in Lover's Complaint'. It says, "you'll find me in music and poems". They're sort of typical lovers' gifts to each other, so would it be fair to say that you're expressing a longing feeling?
It is, and I think, "you'll find me in music and poems", it's very personal but also very universal. It's a reference to people like Shakespeare, where you read something and you can relate to what he's written, it's something that everyone feels. Yeah, and the fact that most of my songs are written about one person; you'll find that person in most of the songs that I'll write.

So recently you've had a gig at the Troubadour and you've got an upcoming one on 5th March. What was the crowd there like?
The crowd there, which featured yourself, were wonderful. It was great. I wasn't actually expecting people to listen to me. I'd been told before to be prepared for people to talk during my set, and I was very surprised to hardly hear anyone talking actually. It was a really great crowd, very supportive, and just generally, the other artists were wonderful too.

And people who've previously played at the Troubadour, people like Bob Dylan, Laura Marling with 'Alas I Cannot Swim', Pete Doherty, people like that, is there a feeling that you have to step up to that kind of legacy?
Definitely. The James Taylor cover that I did was a way of expressing that fact that there are all these incredible people and this huge legacy that they've left, and to be worthy of playing there is incredible, it's really great.

You are as yet unsigned, but you've had interest from Universal. What do you think is the best route in to the music industry, climbing the ladder up to fame, or being shot to fame?
I am a huge champion of climbing the ladder. Ladders are fun to climb. You get a great view once you're up there, and you get to appreciate every rung of that ladder. Still rolling with your metaphor there! I'm not really one for shooting to fame. I'm so in awe of people who go on the X Factor and reality TV shows like that, but I think that if you're someone who has a wonderful voice but can't really write, then it's a great way of getting signed. But if you're someone who writes your own songs, going up the rungs of the ladder gives you a chance to express yourself as an artist and find your own voice, rather than being told what to do?

Is that something that's very important to you, to be able to have your own input to your creative product?
Yeah definitely. I think that songs are so personal. You hear some things and you think "does this person understand what they're singing?" For me, I wouldn't ever want to be that kind of person. To write my own songs means that I know what I'm singing, I understand the emotions and I'm more attached to the material.

So you wouldn't ever consider writing for somebody else?
No, I would consider writing for someone else! I'd be happy to do whatever, if anyone's reading this! But I think if I did write for someone else, it would have to be someone who I understood and felt a connection with. I wouldn't be able to write for someone who had no idea about their ethos or whatever it was. I can write from other people's point of view, which is great because as someone who writes, it's a chance to be more empathetic, I suppose.

You spent your childhood in Brussels, you live in London, and you're currently living with your friend Eve whilst your parents are living in Brussels. So how do these sort of changes affect your music and your writing?
Well, living in Brussels, I was horribly shy and couldn't sing in front of people. The school I was at, I'm not saying all people in Brussels are like this, but the place I was in Brussels, I felt as if they were basically trying to do whatever they could to squash my creativity, and moving to London and being exposed to so many different types of music... I don't know, it was more established, culturally, and it made me grow up and my songs became more mature.