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.

Beyoncé - Lemonade

Beyoncé returns with what is her most daring album to date. Lemonade was announced with minimal explanation, merely a screenshot of what later transpired to be the album cover and a mystery deal with HBO. The release of her visual album caused shockwaves throughout the internet. Coupled with the exclusivity of Lemonade only being accessible through Tidal before it was made available on iTunes, the hype was amplified, multiplied, exaggerated by a million so that within a matter of hours, the lemon emoji had already become the universal symbol for 'men watch out'.

Source: Allmusic

The strength of Lemonade comes from how explorative and diverse it is in terms of spanning genres. 'Daddy Lessons' is undeniably a very good country track, with Beyoncé's soulful voice weaving a wonderful story, melding and adapting to create the warbles of the mid-west. 'Pray You Catch Me' and 'Forward' were produced in collaboration with James Blake, giving Beyoncé an induction to the world of ambient, swirling indie pop. The layering of her voice in the former, then the spine-chilling harmonies of the latter, whirl around your headphones in a sad ecstasy, building up to a tragically beautiful cry. 'Don't Hurt Yourself', which features Jack White and an introductory drum beat that couldn't be anything but Jack White (see 'Freedom at 21' for further proof), is an incredibly, fabulously aggressive assertion of Beyoncé's independence as an artist, a woman, and as a wife. The hard rock works surprisingly well with her strained, desperate scream, forcing us to drop everything and listen. Not as if we wouldn't anyway. 

Lemonade is remarkable in how proudly it wears its collaborators on its sleeve. Beyoncé is now enough of an artist to be able to collaborate with big names and hold her own; these men (and they are all men) take the back seat, and Beyoncé steps into the spotlight. Aside from the great number of collaborators, Beyoncé pays tribute to her musical inspirations in a fantastic sampling and adaptation of Isaac Hayes' version of 'Walk On By' in her track with The Weeknd '6 Inch'. It creeps into the track, but then leads and directs its development, with B expertly navigating the swelling string climax. It's a triumph in music appreciation.

One of the many reasons that Lemonade has been causing a stir is the very overt references to Jay Z's suspected infidelity, and Beyoncé's boss ass bitch-ness in responding to this. 'Sorry' declares nonchalantly, "Middle fingers up, put them hands high/Wave it in his face, tell him boy bye". The hip-twirling, calypso-inspired 'Hold Up' throws in the defiant sting of "I don't wanna lose my pride but imma fuck me up a bitch". In 'Don't Hurt Yourself', Beyoncé spits out "who the fuck do you think I is?/You ain't married to no average bitch boy". One listen of Lemonade will turn you into the sassy, unapologetic and fabulous bitch you always wanted to be.

Source: Youtube

Aside from the themes of infidelity and bad ass-ery, Lemonade carries with it a strong discourse on race relations in America, both past and present. I would quickly like to acknowledge my privilege, and say that it's tricky for me, a white middle class woman, to comment on the particular resonance this album has for black people all over the world. But, as I believe that music exists as a public thing to be appreciated by everyone, there is here only appreciation rather than judgement. The visuals for 'Forward' include images of Lesley McSpadden holding up a picture of her late son Mike Brown, the death that sparked the Black Lives Matter movement a year and a half ago. 'Freedom', Beyoncé's creation with Kendrick Lamar, is reminiscent of Django Unchained in its hints of 'Unchained' from the soundtrack. It perfectly blends explosive hip hop and incendiary rap to create a message of independence - both sexual and racial. In this way, the links between 'Freedom' and Django go beyond music: the video features Beyoncé singing gospel preacher-style to an audience of black women in white dresses, reminding us of the freedom slaves achieved through the power of religion and music. Any lyric from 'Formation' could be used to demonstrate this, but it's done particularly well by the lines "I like my baby heir with baby hair and afros/I like my negro nose with Jackson Five nostrils"; they declare loud and proud a defiant pride in black appearances, a thorny topic at best given the current discourse on cultural appropriation and subjecting black women to white beauty standards in the media. Beyoncé inspires a pride in black culture and history that in a world where, politically, this is a shameful thing.

Lemonade is a total tour de force. It refuses to be silenced or spoken for; it is Beyoncé taking an entirely new direction, and all on her own terms. May she blaze trails for much much longer.

Rating: 9/10

Recommended tracks:

'Freedom'

'Pray You Catch Me'

'Don't Hurt Yourself'

Kendrick Lamar - untitled unmastered

Kendrick Lamar is one of the very few people, besides Queen Beyonce, who can drop an album unannounced and still have, to paraphrase the great man himself, the whole world talking. His third album, untitled unmastered, is a collection of tracks that he has either only performed live or that have been left on the cutting room floor over the course of producing To Pimp A Butterfly and good kid, m.A.A.d city. Never one to play it safe, Kendrick delivers once more.

As the title suggests, the tracks are all nameless, leaving it up to the listener to guess the main aim behind them. As ever with Kendrick Lamar, his lyrics are so multi-directional that it’s easy to pick up on at least one angle that means something to you and expand this out to fit the whole song. In addition to this, he manoeuvres so well through such a huge quantity of subjects over the course of just one song that in taking a step back from pigeonholing his songs with names, he allows them to fill a wider space.

With untitled unmastered, as with his other albums, the devil is in the detail. It’s present in the soft transitional lilt at the end of each line of ‘untitled 02’, adding a soulfulness that shakes up the rhymes. It’s present in the fact that his five year old son contributed the beats and piano to ‘untitled 7’. It’s present in the simple contrast between the off-the-cuff riffing of ‘untitled 7’ and the well-produced groove of ‘untitled 8’. It’s particularly present in Kendrick’s signature: a reoccurring verbal motif that creeps in throughout the album. No stone is left unturned; no aspect of any track is left untended.

Once again, we are left stunned by Kendrick Lamar. He is unashamed, unflinching and unstoppable. Long reign King Kunta.

Rating: 9/10

Recommended tracks:

untitled 8

untitled 4

untitled 2

Django Django live at Stylus, Leeds

Fresh-faced thirteen year olds attending their first gig rub shoulders with seasoned rockers, forming the biggest motley crew imaginable and packing out Stylus for the men of the hour: Django Django. As the band appears, resplendent in piano key shirts and Christmas jumpers, they are decidedly uncool. All of that is about to change, as lead singer Vincent Neff picks up a tambourine and wields it like a talisman, entrancing the crowd as he waves it back and forth for ‘Hail Bop’. All of a sudden, the four gawky lads stood on stage are transformed into magicians, placing the audience under a spell as they weave their way through an incredibly varied set.

Django Django prove themselves to be more inventive than just another indie electro band. ‘Love’s Dart’ featured the make-shift use of a cardboard box as a drumset and coconuts as percussion; paired with an acoustic guitar, it provides a lulling contrast to the preceding ‘Reflections’.

They also expand outside of their generic bounds with ‘Slow West’; written for the Michael Fassbender film of the same name, it’s the closest the band will ever come to a Mumford & Sons-esque vibe without swapping their synths for banjos.

The most striking thing about Django Django is how much their performance suddenly puts their albums into context. As recordings, it’s easy to see how, objectively, they are undoubtedly quite good, but not hugely impressive or memorable. Live, they are electrifying. Where on the album, tracks like ‘Skies over Cairo’ are repetitive, when performed, you never want them to end.

The band’s own enthusiasm during the show is infectious. Carried through by the mesmerising drum beats, the band enter their own trance-like world which, rather than excluding the audience, pulls them in further.

Django Django: indie rock’s nice guys changing your life one strobe light at a time.

Obituary for David Bowie

'Ain't there one damn song that can make me break down and cry'

David Bowie: 1947-2016. As much as it pains me to write these words, David Bowie died this morning after suffering with liver cancer for 18 months. Living long enough to see the release of his latest album Blackstar, he died just two days afterwards. Suddenly, the album clicks into place: 'I Can't Give Everything Away' seemed before like a tease, and now becomes a final goodbye; the opening lyrics to 'Lazarus', 'Look up here, I'm in heaven/I've got scars that can't be seen', fall into place as a veiled reference to the cancer. Blackstar becomes his swan song, his final parting gift to the world.

Looking at the incredible span of his career, it's hard to believe that one individual can have accomplished so much. David Jones became David Bowie became Major Tom became Ziggy Stardust became Aladdin Sane became The Thin White Duke became The Man Who Fell To Earth. He reinvented himself again and again and again before anyone had a chance to call him old hat. There is so much of modern life and culture that only exists because Bowie had the guts to push the boundaries, to boldly go where no man had dared to go.

Maybe because he wasn't fully a man. You have to consider the courage and strength of will it must have taken to have written such an astounding album as Blackstar whilst suffering from cancer and, at the same time, keeping both of the above heavily under wraps. He remained stoic to the last, maintaining his mystical allure by refusing interviews and tours, drawing the world further into his mysticism. Furthermore, what man could dare to embody the alien beauty of Ziggy? What man had his ethereal handsomeness? What man could pull off a knitted jumpsuit like David Bowie? He was and shall remain superhuman, extra terrestrial, not quite of this world.

There are not enough words in the world to even begin to touch on the wealth of creativity Bowie possessed. Not quite content with storming the music industry, he branched out into acting, delivering fantastically memorable performances: as Jareth the Goblin King in Labyrinth, Thomas Newton in The Man Who Fell to Earth, himself in Zoolander, Nikolas Tesla in The Prestige. No child who has watched Labyrinth can ever forget The Bulge.

As silly as it is, I feel deeply touched by his death, as though I've lost someone incredibly close to me. And I tell myself that I have no right to feel this way, that I didn't know him personally, and it's a terrible affront to all of his nearest and dearest that I have the nerve to presume such an affinity with him. But in all honesty, the fact that so many people feel this way demonstrates his absolute and undeniable talent. If his music was powerful enough to make an eight year old, sat in her bedroom listening to Ziggy Stardust and dreaming of the starman, feel as though she experienced the day Ziggy died in 1973, then his career was a success. To make people feel the core of your music is surely the goal of all musicians. Bowie achieved this in force. Goodbye to the man who sold the world, gone to join the stars that he came from.

Grimes - Art Angels

Grimes’ long-awaited new album is finally here. Claire Boucher delivers once more. Just looking at the album art, a terrifying illustration of an entrancing three-eyed girl crying tears of blood, this album will deliver just as much of a curve-ball as Visions did. The collaborations confirm this, with tracks that feature the RnB darling Janelle Monae and another one with Taiwanese rapper Aristophanes. Typically, it’s confusing, it’s eclectic, and it’s 100% Grimes.

Art Angel marks a definite shift in direction for the Canadian singer. Featuring everything from dramatically orchestral pieces (laughing without being normal sounds as if it’s been taken directly from a movie soundtrack) to the Graceland-inspired opening for Butterfly. One particularly surprising change is the sunshine and sugar-infused California; it’s how Grimes would sound if Simon Cowell produced her and she had her own brand of below-average perfume. It’s not the paradox that we expect with Grimes: predictably original. It’s electro pop, pure and unashamed.  It would be an alright song had anybody else done it, but for Grimes, it leaves you a little flat.

The whole album is far catchier than Visions; there are discernible verses and choruses, and you’re unwittingly drawn in so that before you know it, you’re on a tennis court in a Victorian wedding dress re-enacting the Flesh Without Blood video. Art Angel has an undeniable energy to it that bounds along from track to track like an excited puppy that bounds off in the park and drags you along on the lead. Realiti is a particularly stand-out track, with typically beautiful, dark, twisted and fantastical lyrics like ‘when we were young, we used to live so close to it/And we were scared that you were beautiful/And when I peered over the edge and seen death, if we are always the same’. 

Seeming non-sequitors suddenly assume an utterly new meaning when put in the context of this brilliantly ascending track, climbing higher and higher. In spite of its name, it almost transcends reality.

It’s different, but brilliant. It’s pop-y, but perfect. It’s great, so it’s definitely Grimes.