During the darkest parts of lockdown, I (like everyone) was in the pits of depression and existential panic. I lost interest in everything. Somewhere in the midst of that, after a marathon of staring at the ceiling, music came back to me, HARD. And suddenly it seemed different: in the light of the precarity of life as I'd known it, I knew I had to make music with all of my focus. Not that I hadn't been giving an insane amount of my energy to it before, but extraneous things fell away, and I didn't want to watch movies anymore because it was better to make music. I couldn't read silly books—gotta make music.
This started a quest of bad money decisions as I tried to figure out how to craft my studio so that I could manifest all of my ideas perfectly. Some purchases were amazing (the crazy Russian industrial drum machine), and some were ill-guided (the modular sampling unit that honestly can't freak sounds harder than I can with my hands).
I became obsessed with the idea that after Covid I would start a band with my friends, and we'd perform music more organized than anything we'd done before, and tour the world. I bought a guitar, convinced it would be easier to tour with than a turntable, and played it so much that I developed a crippling hand problem that made it impossible for me to do ANYTHING for two months. It was a huge disappointment and I felt cursed to be trapped in my studio, making things on my own forever, totally missing on the communal aspect of creativity.
Then, a couple of weeks ago, I got an SP404 so that I could make tracks in the living room while my sweetheart draws. The whole point was that it's a simple, small machine, and I could treat it like a digital cigar box guitar that I play in the corner. It's a red 404 and I named it Hellcat and covered it with images of demon cat women. The 404 is a notoriously unintuitive machine, its workflow contrary to most ways that people compose electronically now... but I've been sampling the "wrong" way on electronic equipment for about 15 years, and I IMMEDIATELY understood the 404 and was flying on it.
Hellcat is the answer to my question of how I can compose with other people, once it's safe to be around them. Fuck the guitar, fuck every complicated thing I was trying to do, Hellcat made me confront a truth: I'm good at sampling. It's what I bring to the table and it's where I'm happiest. My overall process is more diverse and integrates other elements, but sampling is the core. When Covid is over, Hellcat and I are going to be playing shows DJing all the stuff I've recorded this year. We're going to be in garages next to drummers, chopping the world up.
So, to ring in the new year, I took a 5-day weekend and spent 3 days of it sitting on the floor of my living room from dawn 'til dusk, pumping out tunes to consecrate this new relationship. The result is the first volume of the "Hellcat Honors" series, Hellcat Honors the Internet. Everything was made 100% of samples, 100% in the SP404 with NO editing on a computer afterwards. This is a pure celebration of my longest-running artistic love affair (scavenging). Not like an "album album" or whatever, but this is good stuff to vibe to so I'm not going to keep it to myself.
I could listen to this every day. The most gentle, emotionally refreshing post-rock ever crafted. It sounds like kisses and the halo around the moon. The Weirdo From Another Planet
Claudia's left-field, chaotic take on sampling is utterly beautiful to me. This album sounds like 3 people falling asleep during 3 different parades and having the same melancholic nightmare. The Weirdo From Another Planet
This is time travel singing to make you understand the essence of sound, and how people have adapted their minds and bodies around the beautiful patterns which form the invisible backbone of music. The Weirdo From Another Planet