Daniel Menche’s Crushing Drone and Noise Sometimes Features His Dog

Daniel Menche

Daniel Menche has one simple, specific criteria by which he judges his music: it has to keep him awake.

“Whenever I’m mixing a record, I test it out right here,” the 47-year-old experimental artist says, pointing to the small couch that sits across from the rather imposing-looking stereo in his humble Portland, Oregon home. “I play it on my stereo and crank it up real loud and I sit there and listen. And usually what happens is, after a little while, I’ll fall asleep. Once I wake up, then I’ll know, ‘Well, gotta keep working on this.’”

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A Visit to Chicago’s South Side Influenced Arms and Sleepers’ Ambitious New Record

Arms & Sleepers

Over the past 10 years, Arms and Sleepers have amassed roughly 25 releases—an impressive feat by any stretch. Now, on the group’s sixth official album, LIFE IS EVERYWHERE, producers Max Lewis and Mirza Ramic shift the mood, moving from the trippy, cinematic blends that defined their earlier work to ’90s-influenced instrumental hip-hop. Where the group’s previous efforts tended not to include guest vocalists, on EVERYWHERE, Lewis and Ramic have opened their creative bubble. Airøspace and Serengeti contribute to five songs to the new LP, and guest producer Sun Glitters offers a few crisp and intricate compositions as well. As a result, LIFE IS EVERYWHERE might be the group’s most ambitious project to date. We spoke with Ramic about the new album, and the personal and professional setbacks that inspired it.

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Topeka’s Stik Figa on ‘Rap Flyover Country’ 

stik-figa-600

What happens in rap’s flyover country? Hip-hop, both mainstream and underground, typically takes place in the streets of New York City or Los Angeles, or in parts of the South, or Midwestern cities like Chicago and Detroit. But the rapper Stik Figa hails from Topeka, Kansas, a city known more for the Supreme Court’s Brown v. Board of Education ruling, which led to desegregation, than any hip-hop icons. But Stik Figa is no also-ran. The rapper, born John Westbrook, Jr., has collaborated with two of Mello Music Group’s biggest names: an EP with Oddisee, called From The Top in 2010, and the critically-acclaimed The City Under The City with producer L’Orange in 2013. On his latest solo album, Central Standard Time, he introduces listeners to his hometown, a place where rappers like The Jacka and C-bo hold more weight than 2Pac, where shows are hard to come by, and racism is an everyday experience.

Was one of your goals for this record to put Topeka, Kansas on the hip-hop map?

I wanted to let people know where I’m from, because maybe it would bring eyes over here. I wanted to find ways to tell my story, while telling everybody else’s story that’s from here. It’s a population of like 120,000, but we don’t have [rap on the] radio. We’re 20 miles outside of Kan City so we share everything: Chiefs fans, Royals fans, they’ve got the Speedway out there. None of it is Topeka. So when it came time to start making music, it was kind of important that I said I was from Topeka, so no one got it mixed up.

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Brandon Can’t Dance Relates to Jack Torrance

Brandon Can't Dance

When Brandon Ayres was 13 years old, the future Brandon Can’t Dance frontman felt torn between three part-time pursuits: skateboarding, drawing, and music. Typical adolescent stuff, really. And while the first two eventually fell by the wayside, as teen dreams often do, Ayres couldn’t stop trying to awkwardly top indie rock auteurs like Silver Jews and Beck.

The only problem was his limited means: a worthless computer mic and primitive Microsoft program. Aryes persevered, though; a growing obsession with recording resulted in the avant-pop architect trying to learn everything he could about cutting tracks, whether that meant playing “(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction” over a karaoke tape deck, or melding his own two-chord melodies with absurd lyrics on a newly acquired 4-track.

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Album of the Day: Pollen RX, “Sunbelt Emptiness”

On their 2015 EP Buyers, Austin’s Pollen RX (then a trio) skewered heavy topics like supply-side economics, marketing tactics, and institutional racism over upbeat garage pop. They’re no less political on Sunbelt Emptiness, their first full-length, but in the time since Buyers they’ve both added a member and become more sophisticated in tone. It was a wise move; while Buyers’ ‘shouty-dancey’ approach plays well with the converted, a pointed message packs greater punch when delivered in a way that invites close listening. Sunbelt Emptiness is dense and meticulous, balancing melodic hooks with slinkier passages so skillfully that it’s easy to get lost in the music before realizing you’re grooving to a song about AK-47s.

The album telegraphs some of its intentions in its cover art, a neon pastiche of a solitary eye peering out over an endless stretch of oil wells and telephone lines. It’s like a Lisa Frank illustration of Fitzgerald’s Valley of Ashes in The Great Gatsby. In Pollen RX’s songs, the world is baked by the sun, frozen by air conditioning, patrolled by authorities, populated by pre-fab housing and, on opening track “Billboard Promises,” full of ads offering relief in the form of lotto winnings and sleeping pills. Sunbelt Emptiness is about what happens when a country exhausts its resources (“Sand in the Well.”) “Sunbelt emptiness/ American design,” Maud Morgan sings on the title track; according to PollenRX, this national vacuum is no accident. To put it another way: it’s not a bug, it’s a feature.

However dystopian the lyrics, the music remains bright, bouncy, and catchy. Propulsive pop number  “Again” is about the 2010 Deepwater Horizon explosion; on the aforementioned title track, co-vocalists Morgan and Ben Hirsch alternate between high-register yelping and gravelly growls while darkly juxtaposing the plasticity of reality TV with flickering images of environmental disasters. Consumerism, both its temptations and its disappointments, is another prime target: “Packaging” (which first appeared on Buyers) is a whip-smart critique of brand-as-narrative that bares its fangs in the chorus: “Here’s a story/ See if you can sell it/ Truth is nothing /packaging is everything.”

Despite their dissatisfaction with the world around them, Pollen RX is still able to find light in the cracks. “Paper plates on the kitchen floor/ but I adore you,” sings Morgan sweetly on “Apartment,” a song that’s heartbreaking in its elucidation of how small dreams can shrink, but still have meaning. By the time the album winds down with the dream-like “Control,” the band has found a kind of peace in their environment: “The sand and the sun and you all alone.”

For all their vitriol, Pollen RX have no illusions about their own complicity in the evils they attack. On Sunbelt Emptiness, they indict themselves in the sad and often violent processes that make the modern way of life possible as often as they do the listener. For a record about nothingness, Sunbelt Emptiness packs a punch.

Mariana Timony