Meet The First-Time GRAMMY Nominee: Lauren Patten

Lauren Patten

Photo: Jenny Anderson

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Meet The First-Time GRAMMY Nominee: Lauren Patten On The Timelessness Of "Jagged Little Pill" And Owning Her Identity On The Broadway Stage

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Actress and singer Lauren Patten tells GRAMMY.com about her experience working on "Jagged Little Pill" and using Alanis Morissette's music to start authentic conversations
Alicia Ramírez
GRAMMYs
Feb 19, 2021 - 5:43 pm

Actress and singer Lauren Patten is responsible for one of the most vulnerable performances in recent Broadway history.

She delivered a riveting performance as Jo in "Jagged Little Pill," the Broadway smash inspired by Alanis Morissette's 1995 GRAMMY-winning album of the same name. On top of earning her critical praise and her first Tony nomination, the role landed Patten her first-ever GRAMMY nomination, for Best Musical Theater Album at the upcoming 2021 GRAMMYs Awards show. Her howling rendition of "You Oughta Know," which she unleashes after she's wronged by her partner and best friend, frequently earned her standing ovations. A star was born.

Meet The First-Time GRAMMY Nominee: Lauren Patten

But she isn't just any star. Seeing her grapple with anguish and the process of self-discovery in "Jagged Little Pill" is like seeing an artist grow into themselves, exposing their darkest parts for audiences to witness. As Jo, a teen exploring her gender presentation while in the throes of first love, Patten exercises her voice like a mighty instrument, allowing audiences to witness a performance of unmatched force and nuance whether they've experienced the musical in person or only listened to the cast recording. By the end of "You Oughta Know," Patten is so submerged in Jo's turmoil, it's clear she's emotionally drained. Still, the excitement of witnessing the birth of something greater lingers long after her tears, and those from the audience, have dried. 

GRAMMY.com spoke with Lauren Patten about the responsibility she feels as a bisexual queer woman in playing a character like Jo, working on such a resonant musical despite the ongoing, Broadway-shuttering pandemic, and using Alanis Morissette's music to start authentic conversations about identity, sexuality, race and beyond.

(Oh, and did we mention she started a band with some of the musicians from "Jagged Little Pill," too? Because, obviously, that was something we had to discuss.)

What kind of music are you listening to in quarantine? Have you rediscovered anything?

I recently rediscovered Damien Rice. I hadn't listened to any of his albums for years, and then his music appeared on my Spotify. It also happened recently with Glen Hansard. I went through a pretty big Glen Hansard phase and saw him in concert at the Beacon Theatre [in New York], which was amazing for his Didn't He Ramble album; and I hadn't listened to him for a few years and was like, "Wait, he's released new music?" That has been a little bit of a musical joy recently, going back to artists that I know and love and getting comfort from their work.

You performed in "Jagged Live In NYC: A Broadway Reunion Concert." Tell me about encountering "You Oughta Know" and "Hand in My Pocket" after nine months.

It was overwhelming but interesting, too, because we were doing this massive undertaking, creating a concert version of the show and revisiting the story we hadn't told for nine months. We did the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade and the "Best of Broadway" special. I also performed "Hand in My Pocket" on Zoom, but we hadn't been on a stage telling this story until rehearsals. Of course, we had to limit our time together because of COVID risks, so we didn't have a long rehearsal process. 

I initially didn't register how I was feeling because it was like firing on all cylinders so we could do this concert in a way that felt true to the caliber of our show. It didn't hit me until we were doing it. I was like, "Wow, I'm backstage watching my castmates perform. I'm backstage waiting for my cue." We didn't have an audience or a full cast, which felt strange. But I knew many people were on this journey with us. Once it was happening, it was emotionally overwhelming.

You've created a tight-knit group of musicians around you. Damien Bassman, Eric Davis and Marc Schmied have been vital. How has it felt to create that bond and how does that collaboration look like in practice?

Damien and Eric are in our band for "Jagged Little Pill." Damien played our first reading in 2017 and afterward came up to me and said he wanted to start a band with me; I'd never been in a band before. We continued developing "Jagged," and after the out-of-town tryout in Cambridge [in 2018], I asked if he was still interested. At that point, Eric had always been the guitarist for "Jagged," so I knew Eric well, Damian knew Eric well, and they'd been in the original pit for "Next to Normal"; and then Damien brought Marc in. 

It started as an outlet, to just be in that joy together and play songs that we liked, whether it was going to lead to a concert or not. It's extremely collaborative, and we know each other so well and know what our strengths are, so we all bring songs to rehearsals and choose the best ones. We primarily work on Broadway, but we have a deep love for many music genres, mainly rock, from childhood, so our sets end up being very diverse and eclectic. 

I'm the song interpreter as far as lyrics go and whatever I'm doing vocally, but full credit for the musical arrangements goes to Damien, Eric and Marc. Taking an Amy Winehouse song for this acoustic set and making it into a kind of Spanish-influenced guitar and drum vibe, that's them. I learn from them every time we rehearse because of the different musical worlds I've ever been in, and their knowledge of musical styles is so vast. It's very exciting for me, as a vocalist, to watch them work, where they think it would be interesting to take a song arrangement, and then I can come in with how I can fit into that with my interpretation of the vocals and the lyrics.

I'm such a fan of "I Miss The Mountains." Why did you gravitate toward that song to cover?

That's the only time we've ever done a musical theater song in our sets! [Laughs.] We thought it would be nice to do something that shows our love for and our connection to Tom [Kitt] [musical supervisor, orchestrator and arranger of "Jagged Little Pill" and composer and co-orchestrator of "Next to Normal"] and do something of that genre in our way. 

What was it like to adjust your Rockwood Music Hall sets to a virtual setting? What does the future of live music look like for you?

It has definitely been a highlight of my year, being able to be back with my band and play and share live music, because it's an enormous joy in my life and a relatively new one. We use my name, but it's an artistic endeavor among all four of us. 

I long for the day [when] we can play Rockwood to a sold-out house, because the energy is irreplaceable. But there's something beautiful about piping live music straight into somebody's house. The number of people who purchased tickets doubled the number of people Stage 2 holds for a concert. People under 21 who usually can't come to Rockwood could watch it, and so could people from all over the world who can't come to New York! 

You have great artists and technicians deciding on the sound mix and the camera angles at the moment with you to ensure the stream feels intimate and personal, so it becomes this other artistic endeavor. I don't think that it will replace live music; nothing will. This is teaching us about the possibilities of hybrids and having some concerts that are meant to be live and having some concerts that are tailored to be livestreamed and because there are benefits, mainly the accessibility of it. 

Lyrics can be somewhat self-explanatory, but they also mean something different to everyone. What do the lyrics to "You Oughta Know" mean to you?

People have a perception of what that song is, and because of it, they've made a perception of what the entire album of Jagged Little Pill is, which is wildly off-base. There's obviously lots of rage, betrayal, and imagining revenge as a catharsis. But there's something when you interpret the song as a musical theater artist who is telling a character's story through song that you just listen to a song differently. How I would sing "You Oughta Know" with my band is very different from how I've ever sung it. 

What strikes me lyrically is that there's something very specific in how these lyrics have been queered for the show, and that adds layers of meaning that weren't in the original song. What does it mean to say, rather than "Would she have your baby?" to say, "And you can have his baby?" It's a very different lyric, and it's very loaded. That also meant losing iconic lyrics like, "I hate to bug you in the middle of dinner."

One of the beautiful things about Alanis is that she's so generous with her work, which is no small feat when you have a song as known as "You Oughta Know." When you look at a song as a musical theater artist, you hear things differently. You look at the first lyric of the chorus and, musically, it's different from how you look at it on a page. When you look at it on a page, it's a sentence. "I'm here to remind you." It's really the full sentence, "I'm here to remind you of the mess you left when you went away." When you sing it, there are no vocals between "I'm here" and "to remind you." 

Something about that hit me very deeply! This entire song from this person saying, "I'm here," is very different [from], "It's not fair/To deny me/Of the cross I bear..." This chorus starts with this person screaming, "I'm here," so it's a very different song to me than, "You cheated on me; f* you; you have to look at how you hurt me." "You have to look at me because I'm here, and I need to be seen." It became a song for a character who tries to deflect everything she feels with humor to say what she needs to say for the first time. It became a song that circumstantially came out of a queer person who was betrayed romantically, but that's not what the song is about to me anymore.  

As a queer artist, did you feel the pressure of representing this group of humans? 

The conversation about representation is so important, and I'm so glad that it's happening. It's also really complicated, because one person cannot represent the entire LGBTQ+ community since it's so diverse and varied in experiences. Still, I'm so happy to be able to represent even one specific person's experience.

You've poured a lot of yourself into Jo, and you've done the same with your music. Has playing Jo played a part in your personal growth at this stage in your life?

I don't think that, as an actor, you can spend the kind of time, energy and soul that you put into developing a character for years and not grow. At the beginning of developing this character, I'd recently come out. Telling this story of this person who doesn't know what that means for her yet and is actively trying to figure it out while I was, too, was a very parallel experience. 

It's funny to be years into the show's development, and I'm in a different place than Jo and I've grown up with this baby Jo in my body. [Laughs.] There's a level of freedom to what I've gotten to do on stage as Jo that I haven't had anywhere, and that has changed me as an artist and a person. What I do on stage as Jo was in me; how I connect to Alanis' music was in me. I didn't know that before. As you mentioned, you can see it when I perform with my band, and I don't know if I would've found that if I hadn't had "Jagged." 

Meet The First-Time GRAMMY Nominee: Arca Is Expanding Latin Music On Her Terms With Electronic Album KiCK i

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Meet The First-Time GRAMMY Nominee: Antibalas

Antibalas

 

Photo: Celine Pinget

 
 
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Meet The First-Time GRAMMY Nominee: Antibalas Talk 'Fu Chronicles,' Kung Fu And Their Mission To Spread Afrobeat

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Antibalas members Martín Perna and Duke Amayo discuss their origin story, their decades-long rise as an outlier in Brooklyn and how their first-ever GRAMMY nomination for Best Global Music Album could help introduce new listeners to Afrobeat
Morgan Enos
GRAMMYs
Feb 16, 2021 - 7:27 pm

Even somebody who barely listens to music could presumably name three artists in each of these spheres: rock, blues and jazz. Sure, Bob Marley may remain the embodiment of reggae, but chances are you've heard of Toots and the Maytals or Lee "Scratch" Perry at least once. What about Afrobeat, a West African amalgam of soul and funk with regional styles like Yoruba and highlife?

For many, the Afrobeat conversation begins and ends with the outrageous, incendiary, brilliant multi-instrumentalist and pioneer of the form, Fela Kuti. While the Brooklyn Afrobeat ensemble Antibalas, which ranges from 11 to 19 members, undoubtedly work from the template Kuti helped create, they argue the story of Afrobeat begins—not ends—with him.

"I think that's one of the weirdest things, being in a genre of music that is so defined and predetermined by one person," Martín Perna, the multi-instrumentalist who first dreamed up Antibalas in 1998, tells GRAMMY.com. "Even reggae artists don't all get compared to Bob Marley. I don't think anybody in any other genre is in the shadow of one person like people who play this music." (For those who wish to dig deeper, Perna recommends Geraldo Pino, Orchestre Poly-Rythmo de Cotonou and the Funkees; his bandmate, Duke Amayo, name-drops Orlando Julius.)

"It's been a weird thing," Perna continues. "I would have thought after 22 years that it would have expanded a little bit more."

Antibalas | Meet The First-Time GRAMMY Nominee

More than 20 years after Kuti's death in 1997, Afrobeat may soon expand radically in the public eye thanks to Antibalas. The group, who played their first gig half a year after Kuti's passing, has been nominated at the 2021 GRAMMYs Awards show in the newly renamed Best Global Music Album category for Fu Chronicles, which dropped last February on Daptone Records. Their first album to be solely written by lead singer and percussionist Amayo, its highlights, like "Lai Lai," "MTTT, Pt. 1 & 2" and "Fist of Flowers," partly derive their power from his other primary pursuit: kung fu.

A Nigerian-born multidisciplinarian who is a senior master at the Jow Ga Kung Fo School of martial arts, Amayo aims to find the nexus point between music, dance and martial arts. When he received the unexpected news that Antibalas had clinched their first-ever GRAMMY nomination after 20 years in the game, he launched into a dance of his own.

"I walked over to my girl and said, 'Check this out. Is this real?'" he recalls to GRAMMY.com with a laugh. "She Googled the GRAMMY nominations, and it was surreal. And then I did that usual thing where you shake your hips, violently doing the hip thrust back and forth. Then, I woke the whole house up screaming, as my daughter screamed with me for a minute or two."

GRAMMY.com spoke with Martín Perna and Duke Amayo about Antibalas' origin story, their decades-long rise as an outlier in Brooklyn and how their nomination could help introduce new listeners to Afrobeat.

These interviews have been edited and condensed for clarity.

How would you explain the vocabulary of someone like Fela Kuti to a person who's unfamiliar?

Martín Perna: Afrobeat is like musical architecture. It's a set of ingredients and musical relationships between those ingredients. All the instruments are talking to each other. They're all in dialogue, and these dialogues create dynamic tension in the music. Some instruments create a rigid structure, and others—vocals included—have much more free reign to improvise or solo.

Duke Amayo: I would describe it as a tonal language of the common Nigerian—or African—singing truth to power from a marginalized place. That is the window from where Fela Kuti was operating. He drew from observations around him and expressed them truthfully throughout his music. He is like the Bob Marley and the James Brown of Nigeria rolled into one.

Perna: Whereas the guitar might be playing the same five-note pattern without stopping for 20 minutes, the singer or keyboardist gets to improvise. Or, when the horns aren't playing the melodies, they get solos. It's both very rigid and very free, but it's a dynamic tension between the two.

In a nutshell, describe how Antibalas came up in the Brooklyn scene.

Perna: I was 22 when I dreamed this up, and a lot of it was just trying to create a scene that I wanted to be part of. At the time, I played with Sharon Jones—rest in peace—Sharon Jones & the Dap-Kings. A bunch of the musicians were my colleagues in that band. The rest of the musicians came pretty much from the neighborhood—just people I knew who either had the chops or the interest to be in this band.

Amayo: I was living in Williamsburg, a neighborhood that embodied gentrification in record time. I was in the right place at the right time as I opened a clothing store/martial-arts dojo in my residence called the Afro-Spot. From here, I hosted many fashion shows, using Nigerian drummers to maintain an edge to my brand. This exposed me to musicians who wanted to make resistance music, if you will.

So that brought me in contact with Martín and [Daptone Records co-founder and former Antibalas guitarist] Gabe [Roth], who stopped in my store one day to hang. Eventually, they asked me to join the band. I started as a percussionist and then became the lead singer.

Perna: I wanted to make a band that was both a dance band and a protest band. Because you need so many people to make this music, it fulfilled that idea of being a band and a community. You need anywhere from 11 [musicians] on the small end; at our biggest shows, there have been 19 musicians on stage. So, already, you have a community of people.

Coming up in Brooklyn, did you have local peers in this style? Was there a scene?

Perna: No, there wasn't a scene. There were individuals—mostly West African guys a generation older than us—that had played with Fela or were part of some other African funk band in the '70s. But no, there weren't any peers at all.

Amayo: I would state that we were the scene.

How would you describe your vision for Fu Chronicles as opposed to past Antibalas albums?

Amayo: Fu Chronicles is a concept album written by only me. While the past albums have been written by different members employing the group dynamics of the time, my vision was to create a musical universe where African folklore and kung fu wisdom can coexist seamlessly, supporting each other in a harmonious flow.

The first song I composed [20 years ago], "MTTT," came from my intention to compose a timeless, logical song, expressing a new frontier in classical African music. I wanted to move the music forward by writing songs with two distinct-but-related bass and guitar lines and shape the grooves into a two-part form: yin and yang.

How did martial arts play into the album?

Amayo: I wanted to reimagine Afrobeat songs from a real kung fu practitioner's mindset. I'm a certified Jow Ga Kung Fu sifu, or master. I started studying kung fu in Nigeria as a young boy. The song "Fist of Flowers" describes the traditional form of Jow Ga Kung Fu that I teach. My rhythmic blocks are sometimes based on the shapes of my kung fu movements.

How did you learn about your GRAMMY nomination for Best Global Music Album?

Amayo: The first person who texted me was Kyle Eustice, [who interviewed me in 2020] for High Times. I didn't react at first. I walked over to my girl and said, "Check this out. Is this real?" She Googled the GRAMMY nominations, and it was surreal.

I did that usual thing where you shake your hips, violently doing the hip thrust back and forth, and quickly calmed down. Then I woke the whole house up screaming as my daughter screamed with me for a minute or two.

Perna: On my fridge, last year, when I set my goals and intentions, one of the five things [I wrote] was to win a GRAMMY. This year has been such a disappointment in so many ways, so it's exciting that at least we got, so far, the nomination.

This nomination serves as a punctuation mark on Antibalas's 20-plus-year career. How do you see the next 20 years?

Perna: Oh, gosh. I hope it provides some wind in our sails to continue to record and tour and grow our audience. It could be either a nice end to a beautiful history of the band, or something like I said: wind in our sails.

Amayo: I see the next 20 years of Antibalas as a flower in full growth, writing music to push the genre forward while maintaining excellence in the trade. We began as a bunch of guys in Brooklyn who wanted to make a change, make some noise, and be part of the revival of activist music.

And it's still as relevant as ever, demanding for justice movements like Black Lives Matter, Indigenous peoples' plight, and a more comprehensive education system based on truth ...

Perna: … To get this recommendation and this nod from the GRAMMYs, it's like, "Hey, everybody! Pay attention to this band! They made this amazing record, and you should listen to it!" That's something that propels us out of the world of just musicians listening to us. It feels good to get a little bit of wider recognition.

Amayo: I've been praising my wife ever since [the nomination]: "This is all mostly you." Because if she hadn't put a fire in me, I wouldn't have been able to make the right moves. It takes something to light it up for you, to believe you can get there.

Thus, my song, "Fight Am Finish," with the lyrics, "Never, ever let go of your dreams." I'm going to keep running. I'm going to keep my feet moving until I cross the finish line, you know what I mean?

Travel Around The World With The Best Global Music Album Nominees | 2021 GRAMMYs

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Baauer smiling in his at-home studio in Brooklyn

Baauer

Photo: Kylie Hoffman

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Meet The First-Time GRAMMY Nominee: Baauer Talks 'PLANET'S MAD,' Daft Punk & Shaking The "Harlem Shake"

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"To me, it's such a beautiful validation. It's like, 'Check this out—I made this album and boom, now I'm nominated for a GRAMMY,'" Baauer tells GRAMMY.com of his nomination
Ana Monroy Yglesias
GRAMMYs
Feb 24, 2021 - 9:05 am

It's been eight years since Brooklyn-based DJ/producer Baauer found viral fame with his bouncy debut single, "Harlem Shake," released on Diplo's Mad Decent label in 2012. He's followed up with numerous singles and two full-length albums, 2016's Aa and 2020's GRAMMY-nominated PLANET'S MAD.

Yet, as he explains, it's been hard to get past being the "'Harlem Shake' guy."

"To me, it's such a beautiful validation," Baauer, born Harrison Rodrigues, tells GRAMMY.com about PLANET'S MAD's recent nomination for Best Dance/Electronic Album. "It's like, 'Check this out, I made this album and boom, now I'm nominated for a GRAMMY.'"

He also takes us into the fantastical musical and visual world he created for the GRAMMY-nominated project, how Brooklyn influences his sound and his lifelong love of Daft Punk (this interview was conducted before their breakup was announced).

First of all, congrats on your first GRAMMY nomination. How did you find out and what was your reaction?

Some people started texting me, "Congrats!" and I had no idea what was going on. I was like, "Oh wait, something's happening." I asked somebody who texted me, 'What are you talking about?' And they're like, "Oh, the GRAMMY nomination." It was amazing. I freaked out. I was jumping up and down, like, "Woooo!" It was one of those rare moments of pure joy.

That's awesome. And yeah, in a year that felt like a lot of sh*t, I'm sure it has an extra contrast.

Yeah, absolutely. After such a year, and a year putting so much work into the album, and at times feeling like, "Oh man, is anyone even going to listen to this? Or is this just going to fall on deaf ears?" and sometimes feeling a little bit down about the circumstances, it was just very amazing, fantastic—a validation of all that hard work.

Read: Meet The First-Time GRAMMY Nominee: Arca Is Expanding Latin Music On Her Terms With Electronic Album ‘KiCK i’

What does it mean to you to be nominated for Best Dance/Electronic Album?

Oh, it means so much. It means the world. I've had a journey where I got my main exposure from the meme moment of "Harlem Shake." So I'm always, always working within the context of, "Oh, this is the 'Harlem Shake' guy." I've accepted it. And I'm grateful for it, but it's also something I'm constantly trying to move past and shake, you know what I mean?

How do you feel that your sound and approach to making music has shifted since releasing "Harlem Shake" in 2012, especially being that it was the first single you ever put out?

I feel good that I've never tried to cash in again after that happened. I had the chance to be like, "Okay, let's try to do 'Harlem Shake Two.'" And I just felt like, "Nah, don't do that. Keep trying new stuff, keep experimenting." And a lot of the things didn't work, a lot of experiments didn't work, but I'm proud that I, despite that, just kept trying to do different, new things.

And this album was absolutely one of those too. It's an experiment; it's kind of a risk. And this nomination is just an amazing lesson of a risk that absolutely paid off. It's good to know that sometimes if you roll the dice, you can get a reward.

I want to dive into the album a bit more. Can you take us into the vision behind PLANET'S MAD?

Absolutely. Basically, I wanted to make a new album and create a world for it, almost like making a movie. And so instead of just having a collection of 12 electronic tracks, I used this opportunity to create a world. And that was the basic inspiration for it. From there, it was just a matter of imagining this world and making characters. [Plus], going back to movies and albums that I took in when I was discovering music, and trying to recreate that. Like Daft Punk, Prodigy, The Avalanches and Fatboy Slim—all the albums that sort of created a universe.

Related: 'Tron: Legacy' At 10: How Daft Punk Built An Enduring Soundtrack

Is the movie something that you were thinking about while making the album, or is it something you decided to do after?

I definitely wanted some visual elements from the get-go. But whether or not it was going to be a full movie for the whole thing, I didn't have that in mind until I realized that that was possible a little later on. But visuals are definitely important. For a minute, I was thinking to maybe do a video game too. But that's something that, along the way, turned out to not be possible.

I found these awesome animators, Actual Objects. They were able to create these visuals inside of a video game engine, and they were able to do it so quickly that I realized we could actually make a full little movie here. So, yeah, it was in meeting these animators that that plan and the whole movie came about.

So, the video game didn't happen, but it led to the movie, which is cool.

Yeah, exactly. And it's kind of cool, because, since they built the whole world inside the video game engine, it is actually playable as a game. So that's something that maybe, who knows, down the line, we could still do. This stuff is pretty alien to me, but, as I understand it, with a click of a button, it could become a video game. It's something that's possible.

How did the collaborative process between you and the animators and anyone else involved in the movie go? How did you work with them to create the world in your mind?

I started off with a pretty general storyline. I worked with my brother, who is a writer trying to make it out in Los Angeles right now. He's a great writer, and he's very good at understanding basic story structure. I gave him some movie influences. A big one was The Fifth Element, which has been one of my absolute favorite movies for so long. So, I started off making a basic framework with him.

And I knew I wanted the little alien creature because I love character design. I'm so into Jim Henson, "Sesame Street" and the Muppets. From there, we developed the story. We knew it was going to be about a planet that came into Earth's atmosphere and people on Earth had a reaction to it. They were scared at first, then discovered it was peaceful and everyone became friends.

The story happened bit by bit. And I think, honestly, that means that there are some holes in it. But from what I can tell, that's how it goes sometimes with telling a story, whether it's in a movie or in a show or whatever. You build it as you go, and sometimes there are little holes in it. But sometimes, it doesn't matter, because you're so enraptured in the world that's created.

And you also released a Blu-ray DVD version of the movie with music video extras, which feels very throwback. What was the inspiration to release a physical version of it?

It was Dominic, who runs LuckyMe, the label [I'm on]. We've done a bunch of really cool videos in the past, and for one reason or another, maybe they didn't all get the big exposure [we wanted]. So he had the idea to compile them for this special edition thing. Making it a Blu-ray is kind of throwback, huh? But it's a pretty recent throwback—Blu-rays aren't from that long ago, but I don't have a Blu-ray player. But yeah, it's a cool physical item to have. It's a little look back and a way to have everything in one space.

Did you have any music DVDs growing up? I have a couple I had that I'm thinking of.

Yeah. I'm curious, which ones did you have?!

In sixth grade, I was really obsessed with Sugar Ray. Specifically, Mark McGrath. It was their Australian tour DVD and I watched it endlessly.

Wow. That's one of my favorite things [to learn about people]. You have that thing, like that DVD, that you watch over and over and over again.

The big one for me was Daft Punk's Interstella 5555. You know, they did like a whole anime film that goes along with their album Discovery, which of course is a huge influence of mine. That's a big one that I had and loved. I'm trying to think if I had any more, like, live ones. I'm not sure if I had any live DVDs. I definitely wanted some.

There are so many different sounds and textures on the album. So, I want to look at one song specifically that I really liked, "Pizzawala." Can you break down the different elements on that track?

It all started with a sample that came from a—speaking of old, now obsolete media—a sample CD. There were these CDs in the '90s and 2000s that had all kinds of samples on it—little vocal chops or drums or whatever. People would use them the way now you download a [sample] pack. On the CD is this guy singing a Middle Eastern-sounding chant. The song was all based around that vocal chant, which was actually also used in a Prodigy song. I only discovered that kind of recently, which is kind of crazy.

Around it, I built these drums and tried to use all kinds of different percussion—any cool percussion that sounded different or interesting to me. And the groove was definitely inspired by Timbaland, who's probably my favorite producer ever. I don't even know how to describe it, but [I created] a bouncy percussion based around this sort of chant sample.

And then around that, I built this melody of bells—[which are] still percussion, but more melodic percussion, like bells and marimbas. And I also put in vocals from an amazing writer. I recorded her on it like a year before, doing ad-libs and stuff. I don't even really know what she's saying. So yeah, an old sample, vocals I recorded and then a bunch of different, crazy percussions I found from all over the internet.

That's really cool. I want to find these boxes of sample CDs.

Yeah. I mean, honestly, it's not the coolest, but I just found it on YouTube. It was called, like, "old sample CDs." Even though it's from a CD, I still found it on the internet.

So when you first used the sample, you didn't realize that Prodigy had also used it?

Yeah. A friend of mine texted me after like, "Hey, did you sample Prodigy for that?" I looked up the song and it was using the same sample. I was like, "Oh my God." It's perfectly possible that they also got it from the same CD. Or maybe somewhere else. It's just a really old sample that's been used a bunch of times.

You've talked a bit about some of your inspirations both visually and musically, but was there an artist that made you want to get into DJing and producing yourself?

Yeah, it's tough. I mean, I mentioned them before, but Daft Punk is definitely one of the biggest. That's like the first CD I ever bought. I was so into them, I loved them so much. I saw them live as many times as I could. So, they'd probably be number one, but there are a million other people along the way that also gave me a boost. Prodigy is definitely another one.

When did you first start listening to Daft Punk?

I was probably 12 or 13. And at that time, there was already a lot to dig into. They had already been putting a lot of stuff out and had a cool history to get into and find new stuff and all that.

How does Brooklyn influence your sound and aesthetic?

Oh, wow, great question. It's tough to say. Throughout my whole musical career, I've always lived here, so I guess it's definitely soaked in, in some way or another, whether I knew it or not. It's more of a subconscious thing, I guess, like the type of music I hear from a car that's passing by.

Maybe it's walking around. It's my favorite thing to do, take random walks where I don't have anywhere to go. I think, in doing that, I soak in all the weird sights and sounds and everything about New York in general. That just seeps in and mixes with everything else and somehow inspires the music.

Where did you grow up?

I was born in Philly, then I moved to London until I was 12. Afterward, I moved back to the U.S., to Connecticut, then I moved back to London for one more year. I moved to New York when I was 18. So, I grew up between the U.S. and London. And being in London was huge, that's where electronic music was happening. It was on the radio all the time. That's definitely where I got the love for electronic music.

How will you be celebrating the GRAMMYs?

I'm going to try to get the nicest outfit I can and do it up as best I can!

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Lido Pimienta

Lido Pimienta 

Photo: Daniella Murillo 

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Meet The First-Time GRAMMY Nominee: Lido Pimienta Summoned All Her Creative & Artistic Powers On ‘Miss Colombia’

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Recently, Lido Pimienta spoke to GRAMMY.com from her studio in Canada about her ‘Miss Colombia’ GRAMMY nomination, aspiring to be Enya and what she’s doing outside of music
Jennifer Velez
GRAMMYs
Feb 23, 2021 - 2:45 pm

Lido Pimienta’s La Papessa, the independently released sophomore album that launched the Colombian-born, Canada-based artist into the spotlight, wasn’t meant to be a record at all. A mix of experimental synth, cumbia rhythms and ritualistic vocals, with themes of colonization and abuse, it was meant to be a casual artistic project she made with friends. 

"I didn't take it extremely seriously," she tells GRAMMY.com from her art studio in Canada. But listeners did: In 2017, it was the first Spanish-language album to receive Canada’s Polaris Prize, a coveted award for the country’s most distinct and promising artists, including Arcade Fire, Kaytranada, and Feist. Since then, she has gone from an "under the radar" artist to one to watch.

Lido Pimienta | Meet The First-Time GRAMMY Nominee

But her true magic manifested when she placed meaningful intention into La Papessa’s follow-up: Miss Colombia. The sequel arrived in the spring of 2020 on ANTI-, inspired by a 2015 blunder in which Steve Harvey crowned the wrong Miss Universe. Miss Colombia is like a healing wound for Pimienta. It tackles anti-Blackness—especially on "Pelo Cucu," which highlights how much the Latinx community subjects itself to European standards of beauty. But Black and indigenous empowerment shines through in the music: Throughout the album, Afro-Colombian and indigenous sounds braid together as one, and the result is a mesmerizing assemblage of sounds a listener will feel in their bones.

Pimienta made Miss Colombia on a tight budget, but it didn’t matter—the impressive production quality only highlight’s Pimienta’s resourcefulness. Almost a year later, the album continues to ensnare new fans. In 2020, the album earned both a GRAMMY nomination, for Best Latin Rock Or Alternative Album, and a Latin GRAMMY nomination, for Best Alternative Music Album. 

With her newfound recognition, she hopes more money will come her way for her future projects. "I just think that I need to get more money. That's it. I feel like I'm at this point in my career where I hope whoever is watching is ready to invest," she says. "I know that I'm good at it, I know that I'm fantastic; I know that my voice is great; I know I'm a little cute. I know all of these things and I'm ready for it."

GRAMMY.com caught up with Lido Pimienta over Zoom at her studio in Canada about her GRAMMY nomination, aspiring to be Enya and what she’s doing outside of music.

This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.

How are you doing during this weird time?

I'm making all kinds of art. All kinds of new music. I'm listening to a lot of music I wouldn't necessarily be listening to, even six months ago. I'm exploring a lot of things that don’t have to do with me. I've been trying to use time [to the fullest] and trying to not let this situation get in the middle of my creativity. 

I'm here all the time. This is where I live. This is my art studio and I'm making stuff and I have a little seat for my daughter and she makes a mess and I'm loving it. I watch "[Ru Paul’s] Drag Race" and I make art. It's been my therapy. It's been my escape and it's been my way of keeping my juices flowing.

What music are you listening to? And who’s your favorite "Drag Race" performer?

I've always listened to Enya in a joking way, but now, I'm listening to her seriously and trying to understand why she's so popular. Why does she resonate so much? Why is she this cult-like figure? She's really strange to me. I was listening to Enya [recently], and I was like, "I'm really obsessed with this white Catholic."

I think about it, and maybe I want to be her. Maybe I'm the one who wants to live in a castle and I want to appear through the decades and still be relevant with my very soft music that only a small population of the world can understand. That's been interesting.

But then, of course, I need my "Drag Race." I don't know what's on this season, Season 13. From the UK, I love Lawrence Chaney. From the Gringo one, it's between Gottmik and Kandy Muse. Kandy because of her personality and what they represent, and Gottmik because of her style.

Here's the thing I really respect about you: you critique things and you have a lens that a lot of people who aren't white and privileged don't know of. But you're also very honest. I think how you spoke about Enya really speaks to that, how we're all complex. 

I don't know any other way to be. I also feel like I don't really have the pressure of hiding my true self like I feel a lot of people that are in the music industry have. They have to guard themselves and be a vessel for songs that don't actually have their own point of view. 

I don't have that pressure, luckily. I can be fat. I can get wrinkles. I can show off cellulite. This is not about the way that I look. It's really about what I think. It amplifies, elevates, solidifies and verifies everything that I am. I am what you see is what you get.

What is something in music that makes you light up?

Traditional Afro-Colombian music. That's it. When I made up "Totó la Momposina," it was a huge deal to me. 

One day, I was asked to do Petrona Martinez’s portrait. That's an honor for me. It's like meeting Celia Cruz, rest in power. Sexteto Tabalá, that's the stuff where I'm like, I can't wait to go to Colombia and start recording them because I want to produce their next album.

Even the traditional Peruvian music, my heart is racing just thinking about it. To me, that's proper. That's real, that's transcendental, that's beyond pop and all that stuff.

I take it you never thought you'd be nominated for both a Latin GRAMMY and a GRAMMY during a pandemic.

Yeah. With or without the pandemic, I did not anticipate that plot twist. Let me tell you, I'm pretty sure the day of the Latin GRAMMYs, I was making fun of the award show in my own Lido Pimienta way when I was like, "Wait, I'm pretty sure the GRAMMYs are like Miss Universe for musicians."

The inspiration for Miss Colombia came from the infamous 2015 Miss Universe [pageant] when Steve Harvey messed up and gave the crown to Miss Colombia and then took it away and gave it to [the actual winner] Miss Philippines. I was [like], "This is hilarious! The Latin GRAMMYs are like Miss Colombia." I guess I'll save the joke for another year when I'm not nominated. 

Then, gosh. Here we go again with the gringo GRAMMYs. Then, at that point, I was kind of like, what do you mean only one nomination? Where are the other ones? I'm like, it's okay. Because now, it's like, you can be nominated for this huge award and you don't have to have a number one song in the entire world. Or as a woman, as a Latin woman, I actually don't have to show off my body and I'm still getting nominated.

[But] I don't think I'm going to win for this. The people that I'm going against are too popular.

You never know!

I'm very curious about the next record. I'm challenging myself. It's a fun game now.

One thing about your album is that you made it on a budget. You didn't have a lot of money. How did you make it work?

I'm resourceful. I do a lot of it myself. I feel like a lot of the albums that make it to huge platforms and are very, very popular have a lot of money behind them because they [are the product of the top producers, the top engineers working in a top studio. 

Working in a top studio can cost what I used for my [whole] album just in a day. It's basic math, really. I would love to work with the top engineer in the world or the top producer in the world. [But] it might sound cheesy to me, and I might not need that.

A few months ago, this art studio was my music studio. I had been working on these songs since 2015. I went to Chile, I went to Colombia. My process is different because it really is all me. These are my songs. I don't fish for songs at those writing camps or stuff like that. It's me. 

I feel like that's how I'm able to manage it because I write everything myself. What I would like is more budget for my videos, because I'm a visual artist and I feel like all of my videos so far are only scratching the surface.

I’m the one who critiques my work the most because I'm the only one who matters. I don't care if people like it or don’t like it, [but] it's wild to me to see how far Miss Colombia has gone. When I really think about it, it's like, I made it in my house. I don't have a hundred thousand dollars to make it.

But people are actually listening to this record. It has become the soundtrack for a lot of people in the pandemic. It's a huge honor and it kept me excited, and I know that I don't have to compromise my art. It all comes down to that [and] it shows that I am a good businesswoman.

In your The Road To Miss Colombia documentary, you talk about how at some point, you had these rose-colored glasses when looking at Colombia and the album is you taking off those glasses. What is your relationship to your culture now?

It's the same as always. I feel very much at home and welcome in my territory, in my community. Once I step out of my circle and I go into a Colombia mainstream, people will think I'm weird. People will think I'm so strange.

But this thing about Colombia is that we’re infatuated with the idea that we’re a colony. People are very proud that they'll have one percent Spaniard in them. Closeness, affiliation and relatability to whiteness—a.k.a. the Spaniard in them—makes people feel like they are making it. 

One of the owners of [my] school—I forget her name, maybe because I blocked it so much—[was] this white Colombian. I remember her grabbing me and telling me, "Why are you in this classroom, Black child? Why are you in here? You're going to steal from us." I'm wearing my uniform. I'm obviously a student in this school. She was so bothered that I was taking space. 

You remember these things and then, you're like, yeah, Colombia is messed up. But the redeemable qualities, it all lies in that we are Black and that we're indigenous. If we didn't have that, we would be empty. We would have no culture. 

When you grow up like that and then, you move to a country like Canada, you relive those moments. But now you're an adult and now you're able to vocalize and understand where the hatred is coming from. Now, you actually have the maturity and in my case, personality to clap back. 

That's where I live. That's my existence. It's like, that's my resistance. I use humor as my coping mechanism. I'm well-read and all that stuff. I'm a critical thinker.

Some of the things you coped with as a child, you're still coping with as an adult. That is a lot to carry. How do you deal with all that?

Art. That's it. Art and my children. I don't have a lot of friends, but the friends that I have are fantastic. I just want to make stuff. I'm constantly creating. I have so many dreams, and hopes and plans.

I know that certain people in this world who were born and granted suffering on many levels. The way that I have to experience it, I have to understand that the universe gave me this suffering, but also equipped me with strength, and wit, and intelligence. 

I'm learning how to not dwell. I'm learning how to resist and push forward because I know who I am. After I die, I'm 100% convinced that people will write about me and people will write about my art. My art is going to live longer than my physical body. My children are going to be living off of my name for year-to-year. 

That's the legacy that I'm building now. When I think about that and I think about this trauma and all that stuff, I know that it only gets better and that I'm real.

Does it comfort you at all that you are creating space not only for people who don’t fit the European standard of beauty but also with the music you make? You use a little bit of those reggaeton rhythms but it's not pop.

I don't even think that I'm creating anything for anyone other than myself. For whoever sees themselves in me, I feel like I'm setting a precedent that you don't really have to subscribe to the tropes of Latinidad in music. 

I'm honestly like, I'm just bored. You know what I mean? It's like, really? Those two making another song? Oh, the other three are making—oh, wow! You know what I'm saying?

It all comes down to what people like. If the majority of people like serious, arty music, then I would be where they are. But that's not even what we're doing here. I get a song in my head, I sing it out loud. If I sing it still after a week, then I record that. It's as simple as that. 

I don't think about who's going to listen to it. I don't think where they're going to listen to it. I don't think about if it's going to get released on a CD or vinyl, I don't think about any of that in the process of creation. It's just creation. That's it—hope you like it. 

In the meantime, I'm home washing my sheets because my daughter peed on my bed, which actually happened three minutes ago.

On Miss Colombia, you recorded yourself and produced a lot of those songs. I know on your last album, you didn't get to do any of that. What did it mean to you to be able to do that?

I also did it on my last album. We had many more cooks because La Papessa was an album that wasn't supposed to be an album. It was supposed to be an audio experience that would go with these illustrations I made that were inspired by the Tarot and the High Priestess [card.]

It was like an art project; I was new to Toronto and I made these new friends. We were hitting record and jamming. I didn't really take it extremely seriously. Then, I went to Chile and I started working on Miss Colombia, an album that I actually was like, "You know what? I'm going to get serious" … Then, I come back and they're like, "We're going to shortlist it for the Polaris Prize in Canada."

I couldn't believe it because I was like, "Is this a prank? That album is a joke." But [now], I have to own it. The songs are real. I talk about a lot of real stuff. The production could be better, but it's very unique. It's very experimental. It's different points of view. 

So, yeah, I was glad they gave me that recognition. It gave me the impulse and the motivation to write more music that more consciously and with more intention. Here, we have Miss Colombia and here I am not going on tour, so I'm working on new material.

What shifted that mindset from more fun and playful to intentional?

When I realized that I could work from home and still make a living, and a single mom to a boy that only has me, that I'm the only one that takes care of him. People were interested in booking me for shows and I realized that I could make money from that, I said, "Well, I don't want to feel like I'm cheating people. I want to do really good work," because I'm an artist and I did it. So, Miss Colombia was the summoning of all of my powers but doing them in a very intentional, serious way, giving a character, a purpose whether the character was me or whoever sees themselves in me coming up a beginning, a middle, and an end.

What's next for you? What else are you working on?

A TV show, like real segments and skits for my YouTube channel which I'm titling Lido TV, which is going to be really fun. Also, I'm writing an album for an artist, Julie and I'm singing a bunch of songs for other people in North America. Just another day in the life.

Do you have anything else to share about the next album? What the inspirations and sound might be?

People are going to say that I'm the Caribbean Enya.

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Arca 

Photo: Hart Lëshkina

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Meet The First-Time GRAMMY Nominee: Arca Is Expanding Latin Music On Her Terms With Electronic Album ‘KiCK i’

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Electronic artist Arca's poppiest album yet, 'KiCK i,' expands Latin music outside its traditional boundaries—and now she has a GRAMMY nomination for it
Jennifer Velez
GRAMMYs
Feb 17, 2021 - 2:34 pm

Last year saw the demise and birth of many worlds. But despite the upheaval, Alejandra Ghersi, the avant-garde electronic music artist known as Arca, streamlined her approach and delivered her most palatable album yet, KiCK i.

Fans of the singer/songwriter and producer know her for her boundless, experimental approach to music-making. Her textured sound design includes instrumentals, futuristic effects and haunting, ceremonial vocals. KiCK i, released June of 2020, is an out-of-this-world bilingual sonic experience that marries the two sounds that raised her: electronic music and reggaeton.

To the Barcelona-based, Venezuelan-born artist, reggaeton and electronic music are one and the same. Reggaeton relies "on the loop of electronic instrumentation," she explains via Zoom. With this album, Arca is taking Latin music’s biggest sound to new dimensions outside of the traditional Latin music world.

The intent is GRAMMY-worthy. KiCK i is nominated for Best Dance/Electronic Album at the 2021 GRAMMY Awards. And it has a place on the dancefloor—hip-shaking tracks like "KLK" with Spanish sensation Rosalía and Venezuela’s Cardopusher are pop songs at their core even as Arca maintains her experimental vision. 

The album's 12 songs mix reggaeton’s infectious rhythms with heavy, emotive synth sounds and robotic vocals. And the complex themes of identity in tracks like "Nonbinary" and "Machote" are as relevant and cutting-edge as the sound itself. She’s known for her contradictory nature—when asked about the songs, she responds, "There are times where it feels pleasurable and right to indulge in the binary, and there are times where it feels pleasurable and right to indulge in not having to put everything into one of those two boxes."

Recently, Arca spoke with GRAMMY.com about how her transition influenced the expansion of her sound on KiCK i, working with the late singer/producer Sophie on the album and creating reggaeton with Rosalía.

This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.

What about the creative process or the creating process gets you excited?

It tends to be the part of making a song or being on set where I'm not in control of what the outcome will be. My favorite part of making something is not necessarily the part that entails having a vision and figuring out how to execute it, but rather the element of surprise that emerges when there's maybe a beautiful mistake or an accidental discovery.

So you don't mind not being in control?

Oh, I crave that. I think in my day-to-day, I want to be in control of my feelings or my practice. 

What drew you to electronic music?

I have a brother seven years older, and I would often borrow his music—sometimes without permission. I think his musical tastes left a big influence on me. He had a lot of Aphex Twin, Squarepusher. He had a few Björk records that were very formative in my musical heritage [and] instruction. 

Also, I loved electronic music on the radio. Pretty much all the musical genres that I gravitated to when I was a kid were electronic in some way—even if it was like future-leaning R&B. There was [also always] reggaeton on the radio in Venezuela. I considered reggaeton electronic music.

That’s interesting. Tell me more.

It really does rely on the loop of electronic instrumentation.

Before I come back to that thought, I want to get into your music. Your last album, Arca, was experimental. KiCK i is a bit more pop. How did that shift happen?
I can't answer that without mentioning the beginning of my transition. I think the self-titled record was more of like a swan song, as if I was letting go or mourning. When I wrote that record, I was walking in a cemetery every day by my house. It was pretty goth. Beyond emo. After that, I came to terms with a few things and decided to share them with the world.

The immediate result was something more celebrational. I didn't really want to preach to the choir, so to speak. There was a focused intention to try to reach people that might not share the same views as me—but to entice them or invite them by making something beautiful enough or entertaining enough that would compel people to think about the fact that we're each kind of mutants in our own way.

At the same time, we're all brought together in being unique. I don't know how to explain it. I think it's something that's more a result of living and finding a queer family after I left Venezuela when I was 17 years old. The values and the ways of making a new family or finding yourself to be part of a community that you didn't realize existed, it all ties into the reasons why the record sounds so different.

You mentioned people who have different values than you, and then you cited queerness. Is that what you mean by people who have different views?

Definitely, but only because I think everyone is queer. You can self-identify as queer or not, but I think we're all on a spectrum.I don't think it should be something exclusive. It should be something inclusive. I think also each individual has multiple souls. That's something that I talked about a lot on Kick I—that we all have more than one state. 

I want to make space for each of those to be able to coexist in the same space, not just tolerate each other, but in a harmonious way. I think queerness isn't something that should make anyone feel like an outsider. If anything, it should make everyone feel like part of the same thing.

You have a song called "Nonbinary," but you also have a song called "Machote," which means "man" in Spanish. Why did you decide to name the songs that?

I didn't want to force people into thinking that by being non-binary, you're renouncing the heritage and tradition of these charges between masculinity and femininity. If anything, I wanted each woman to recognize the man inside them and each man to recognize the woman inside them. The words "woman" [and] "man" mean different things to each person.

My idea was that you can know who you are without needing to only choose one side of you. It's like the sun and the moon. I want it to have the pleasure and the joy and the sparks that can fly off of the tension between hyper-masculinity and hyper-femininity in the case of "Machote."

At the same time, there are instances where thinking in terms of masculinity and femininity as a binary might not be useful. I was trying to have my cake and eat it too. There are times where it feels pleasurable and right to indulge in the binary, and there are times where it feels pleasurable and right to indulge in not having to put everything into one of those two boxes.

It was a very nuanced message and a layered one that I understood was contradictory upon the moment of sharing it. That was kind of the point.

How did reggaeton and trap make it into the album?

Part of the lifeblood that has nurtured me was music that I heard on the radio. Music that reached me, through not just academic and performance, in more of a popular sense. One of the contradictions I like to relish in is to not think of my practice as academic, but also not to think of it as just entertainment.

Did you plan on making the track of the Rosalía reggaeton since the beginning?

No. Actually, that's not the first song that we've made together. It just happened to be the first song we've been able to share. I'm glad that ["KLK" is] the first one because I'm really proud of it. I hope the other ones make it too, but at the same time, I don't think that our sound has to be shared with an audience for it to be real or for it to mean something.

I'm happy that we've made songs. Whether or not they see the light of day and are shared with audiences is secondary, almost, but I love her so much.

What about the song makes you proud of it?

I want to mention Cardopusher. It was between the three of us that the song came to be. So, I want to do more than a shout-out. I think the lifeblood of that song, the melody that is very hypnotic and has given the song so much of its energy was Cardopusher’s musicality. It's not just Rosalía. It's Rosalía, Cardopusher and I.

It's very important because the collaboration feels like a triangle. I've known him since I was, like, 14 years old. He was and is a local hero in the scene of Caracas. So, I'm proud for, I guess, being a bridge too, between Cardopusher and Rosalía. I'm proud to be a part of that song.

I'm proud because those are the rhythms that Luis and I grew up with, and I know Rosalía really appreciates them too. I love the song because I think it's infectious, but not 100 percent digestible in a pleasant way.

I have noticed that about your music. Some things about it are more poppy and accessible than others. Are you ever concerned about it not being palatable enough for broader audiences?
All the time. It's my nightmare to think that I might make something that means much more to me than it could mean to an audience. I always want to make it possible for people to have their own reading of things without making it sound too abstract. That's something I find myself never figuring out.

Your music is at the intersection of so many things. You're creating a new space for Latinx music outside its traditional boundaries. Do you think so too?

That's the goal. I don't know if I can answer that. I think that's for other Latinx musicians to answer, but that is honestly the goal.
And I think that your music is necessary for that—to push those audiences.

Bless you, for saying so. Thank you.

On the album, you worked with Sophie as well. What did working with Sophie mean to you?

It meant a lot. It's an emotional subject because it's very recent that she passed, and I find myself still processing the emotional side of that. What I can say right now, honestly, that I feel nothing short of an honor to have been able to make music with her and have that connection and be a part of my life for many years.

We met each other before either of us transitioned, so there was this very profound parallel and also similarities and also contrasts. I think Sophie is a genius. Period. She will forever remain someone that inspires me. We had so many plans. We were making so many plans to tour together. 

The track with Sophie, "La Chiqui," is more experimental than some of the others. What do you enjoy about playing with sounds?
I like the idea of combining things that haven’t been combined: languages, good print, times, different eras, different materials, even fantasy worlds, like science fiction versus fantasy. Maybe even interpreting traditional things with more contemporary leanings, or interpreting more contemporary ideas through traditional classical beauty.

I try to find combinations that surprise me and hopefully can produce a sense of wonder. Or, at least, inspiration.

This album is nominated for a GRAMMY. How do you feel about that?
I’m still pinching myself. I can't say that I've taken it all in. Interviews like this one are what help it feel more real because I didn't even know that was possible.

When the label mentioned that it was nominated, I wasn't even told that it was a possible candidate. It's a great honor because I've studied not just music, but the history of recorded music. The GRAMMYs are very much about albums, which is a format that I'll always believe in. And then to have the recognition and the honor of it being nominated for me is already more than enough. It just gives me a lot of fuel to keep doing what I'm doing as best as I can.

Outside of your music, what do you want to be known for?
That’s a big question. I want to be known for not ever fully being known. I'd like to remain something of a mystery. I'd like to make it so that if you study my tracks, or the gestures, or the decisions that I took throughout the course of my career as a musician or as an artist working in more than one medium, it would be to make it hard for people to reverse-engineer and figure out who I was without hiding from people.

To find this place where people can feel like they don't have to know exactly who I was in order for my work to mean something to them—that would make me happy.

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