Drake
It wouldn’t be entirely out of character for Drake to show up to Sun God in a wheelchair; after all, the world was first introduced to Aubrey Drake Graham as the paralyzed ex-b-baller Jimmy on “Degrassi: The Next Generation.” Since then, the Canadian has graduated the teen-soap gig for songwriting sessions with Lil Wayne, rumored romantic exploits with Rihanna and a Grammy nomination — not a bad upgrade.
You might think the kid is hip-hop royalty already, but he hasn’t actually released a proper album: Major-label debut Thank Me Later doesn’t drop until June 15. All Drake has to prove that he’s worthy of Jay-Z and Eminem’s love is hit single “Best I Ever Had,” his spot on “Forever” and a few forgettable (if promising) mixtapes.
Last year’s So Far Gone is one such promise: Though Drake’s lyrics are often ridiculous —“I really can’t complain, everything’s kosher/ Two thumbs up, Ebert and Roeper” — they’re never boring, and his beats are always made by the best.
Drake has quickly become the model for a new school of popular hip-hop — championed by the melodramatic Kanye West, who has chosen Drake as one of his prodigies — in which danceable pacing is chucked for sincerity, synths are the new samples and hooks take precedence over rhymes. Let’s call it post-rap.
Tracks leaked from his new album only amp the promise. Single “Over” — an unabashed throwdown consumed by string and horn arrangements — is utterly triumphant, while the Kanye-produced “Find Your Love” sounds a lot like, well, Kanye.
In the vein of “Degrassi,” Drake takes more from sweet indie-rock than R&B when it comes to singing and sampling. Mixtape highlights “Let’s Call It Off” and “Little Bit” feature Peter Bjorn and John and Lykke Li, respectively. (And with Lil Wayne on his side, Drake can pretty much do whatever he wants.)
Unfortunately, all that prettiness probably won’t shine through his bumbling live show. Drake is a studio technician, not a performer, and his reliance on more successful artists won’t get him anywhere, seeing as Weezy can’t exactly fly the coop for a night of science-nerd debauchery. Plus, it’s hard to take Drake’s swag seriously when all we’re asking ourselves is, “Since when was Jimmy cool?”
—Arielle Sallai
Associate Hiatus Editor
Michelle Branch
Amid the brash hip-hop artists and mashup deejays set to storm RIMAC Field tomorrow will be a familiar female voice taking you back to a bygone era. No matter how dramatically your taste in music has evolved since singer-songwriter Michelle Branch clogged radio waves half a lifetime ago, she’s the irrefutable soundtrack to your middle-school memories. Try as you may, you can’t not sing along.
Of course, her modern-day irrelevance has raised speculation as to why an artist best known for a single released 10 years ago is headlining the biggest event of the year. Turns out, she’s still touring, and — after a seven-year hiatus due mostly to pregnancy — released new album Everything Comes and Goes. It’s her third solo effort, her second attempt at exploring the country genre and a tragically far cry from our nostalgic kick.
Branch first rode into the spotlight on a wave of alt-rock females that shunned the party-pop image forged by Britney and Christina in favor of sensitive guitars and diary-style songwriting.
Still, breakout single “Everywhere” put Branch on top of the charts with the blondes, riding a simple power-pop riff and relatedly ambiguous lyrics (people frequently asked her if the song was about god). Three years later, she released Hotel Paper, a low-key sophomore effort that garnered moderate success with “Since U Been Gone” foreshadower “Are You Happy Now.”
From there, the trail grows cold. Following Paper, Branch dropped into relative obscurity, marrying her bass player and giving birth to a baby girl in 2006.
Now, on Everything, Branch seems determined to prove that her career still has legs.
The new stuff is not entirely terrible, in Country Music Television context — it’s just not what we want. Though Branch retains the same straightforward honesty, guitar-driven melodies and lovelorn lyrics from previous albums on lead single “Sooner Or Later,” it’s too plucky and twangy to picture it blasting from Mom’s 4-Runner, like in the good old days.
Still, “This Way” finds Branch channeling the Delta Spirit with throaty vocals that slide up and down a sparse steel. The whimsical number features a hypnotic chorus on which Branch does what she does best, alternating emphasis on every other word and hanging on the line “Too many times I have told you.” Like all her hits, it reverberates in our minds long after the last string has ceased to echo.
Now that the pop charts have wisened to artier spectacles like Lady Gaga, Branch’s strategic move away from the desolate girl-rock trend and toward the more specialized niche of popular country (with an easier-to-please fan base) is a smart commercial move. But here’s to hoping that, come tomorrow, she won’t spend her whole set vetting her new album and swag — instead rocking the ripped jeans to revisit some old favorites. To us, her appeal isn’t necessarily as a composer, or even a singer. Branch’s true value lies in the memory of what we were doing when we first heard her, in an age when every MySpace Top-Eight demote was worthy of a good, hard cry, and a smile from that blond boy in third period was enough to make any day our birthday.
—Angela Chen
News Editor
DJ Z-Trip
The godfather of the mashup might just be old enough — after 42 years and half a lifetime behind the tables — for Sun God-goers to write him off as stale sliced bread from yesterday’s toaster. Especially when compared to last year’s Dance Tent headliner: electro-age people’s hero Girl Talk.
As Zach Sciacca — better known as DJ Z-Trip — put it, “I might be on ‘mix’ on the blender, and he’s on ‘chop.’” Girl Talk morphs Top-40 hits into space-age eight-legged beasts, stimulating enough to placate the new generation of digital multitaskers. (After all, if you can’t have us dancing within five seconds, we’ll move on to the next guy.)
So Girl Talk took Z-Trip’s concept and ran with it — an admirable evolution. But there’s something to be said for the more careful weave of the veteran, who usually sticks to two tracks at a time and delivers vocal and melody lines uninjured (but for some expert flourishes). His respect for the originals usually trumps any itch in his quick fingers.
“[Girl Talk says] ‘Yeah, I’m not a deejay.’ Well, kind of you are, man,” Sciacca said. “Anyone who plays other people’s music, to a degree, is a deejay. … That’s where my whole culture’s from. What am I, going to shit on everyone before me? Be like, ‘I’m not one of them.’ You’re an extension of that. Accept it.”
Z-Trip is a natural crate digger, making for a repertoire that requires heavy listening — best enjoyed on a subtle high and a pair of good headphones. And this element of the unfamiliar (laced into the old favorite, of course; no one can resist the Beatles) is what keeps him competitive among “NOW!” samplers like Girl Talk — especially since his Motown and B-boy gems are always ones we wish we’d found ourselves.
Live, though, Z-Trip’s obscure samples and awkward pacing can form a thick smoothie for a pleasure-seeking mob to swallow. For this reason, Sciacca said his best crowds come with an open mind.
“It’s up and down,” he said. “Ebb and flow, like a sin wave. There’s moments where people are crazy. There’s moments where it’s more cerebral. There’s moments to focus on a technical thing — me scratching — or on a political statement … versus, OK, now we’re just going to smash our heads against the wall: Here’s some Metallica.”
That’s not to say Z-Trip can’t make you dance.
“I do think that’s one good thing Girl Talk does: totally incorporate the crowd,” he said. “There’s other things I don’t necessarily care for, but he can get people up there and dancing, and that’s the whole fucking point of it anyway. … It’s about coming out and shaking your ass and getting down. That’s a huge part of why the fuck I do this.”
Over a decade after Uneasy Listening, his debut with DJ P, blew him (independently) global, the album remains an opus in the history of the mashup, a groundbreaking calm still earning its keep among flashy updates to the sound.
Z-Trip spent the next half-decade evading copyright law, honing his live show and posting all his work online for free, years before the Radiohead publicity stunt (www.djztrip.com/downloads. html). Even the self-built beats on 2005’s Shifting Gears are tailored mostly to the zippy indie raps on top.
Indeed, after 20 years on the scene, Z-Trip remains the most trustworthy of matchmakers, whether finding a bed of bass for Barry Manilow or the right groove for whoever is staring up at him. He may not bring Girl Talk’s balloons and toilet paper, but Z-Trip’s half-improv live mix proves that nothing can make our chests swell like a long-forgotten hook from left field. At Coachella, he overlaid a rollicking dubstep with John Lennon’s “Taxman” vocals, sending the crowd into a hissy fit of low-end nostalgia. (“I got raped on my taxes this year,” he said. “So I was like ‘Fuck it, I’m pissed.’”)
The exploding dubstep movement — particularly in LA, where he lives — exemplifies the tsunami of bedroom deejays Z-Trip is up against.
“It’s just the quantity — the sheer amount — is building, and I’m noticing that the really good stuff is getting harder to find within all of it,” he said. “You have a lot kids who are just jumping on the bandwagon, which slows things down a little bit.”
As for this Friday, Z-Trip said his setlist will have everything to do with the vibe he gets from the crowd.
“At this point, I don’t really have anything really planned, but that could change,” he said. “I’m a big fan of the impromptu. If there’s somebody there at the festival I haven’t seen in a while, I don’t know, maybe we could collaborate on some shit. … There’s always that wild card that I’d like to keep open. I can jam with anybody. I love that.”
—Simone Wilson
Editor in Chief
B.o.B.
If T.I. actually wants to assume the “swagger of a college kid,” he should take a tip or two from new labelmate Bobby Ray Simmons — aka B.o.B., latest and greatest in the 21st-century parade of cute skater boys in purple hoodies, rapping about Legos instead of bullet holes and puppy love instead of banging the bartender.
His dexterous ability to flit between pop-rock, R&B and hip-hop — along with the classical smarts to attract the finest collaborators from each — sets him apart from the rest of the Kanyes- and Pharrells-in-training. Plus, he may have recruited the golden-voiced Bruno Mars to do the swoony hook on current single “Beautiful Girls,” but B.o.B. can actually hit a few notes himself — as on “Lovelier Than You” and late-2008 single “I’ll Be in the Sky.” (Which is more than can be said of a certain headliner. Starts with a “D” and ends with a “rake.”)
In fact, if this were Sun God 2012, B.o.B. would probably be billed at the top of the lineup in place of the aforementioned one-trick pony. He’s got a bounce in his step, a voice big enough to fill the San Diego sky and a full band to put the funk into the finale fireworks. The only thing currently holding the boom-bappin’ youngster back from the bigtime, aside from his new-kid nametag, is his struggle to choose one persona and stick with it. One moment he’s a puddle of lovestruck putty; the next, he’s trying to lean as hard as his ATL street idols.
But with hooks for days and a goofball versatility that gives Andre 3000 a run for his money, every one of B.o.B’s faces is impossible not to love. Take a break from the afternoon tequila binge to catch him while he’s hot.
—Simone Wilson
Editor in Chief
The Parson Red Heads
The Parson Red Heads are clean, formulaic, tightly packaged and ridiculously content with their own brand of chill.
That’s not to say that this troupe of steel-stringed, indie-bearded Oregonians make for a bad listen. In fact, they’re likely to throw down the most overtly pleasant set of the day — one that radiates happy times and the kind of hip nostalgia you’d find in a discarded Polaroid. You’ll approach the stage asking who the hell these guys are, and leave feeling like you just swallowed a rainbow.
At times, the Red Heads revel a little too long in faded choral arrangements, sparsely placed slide guitar and airy vocal harmonies that channel the peace-and-love communion of a Vietnam-era folk-rock supergroup — resulting in something like a Disney version of Fleet Foxes. Then, with little notice, they switch gears from vintage hippie rock to upbeat summertime alt-pop, leaving behind harmony in favor of shrill synthesizers and a rapid, clean down stroke. Frequent breakdowns complete this perfect picture, while the band claps in unison for the sheer joy of being alive.
Their music might fade unnoticed into the wasted Sun God soundscape, but think twice before passing the Red Heads by. They’ll be waiting with open arms, positive thoughts and at least 30 minutes of instant (if forgettable, like the rest of the day) gratification.
—Reza Farazmand
Managing Editor
Thrice
For all those hardcore alt-rock heads out there (including Associate Vice President of Concerts and Events Alex Bramwell, the festival’s coordinator), Thrice’s performance at Sun God will be the beacon of a long day filled with hip-hop, girl-pop and under-the-radar indie acts. But there’s cause for skepticism when it comes the head-banging potential of the festival’s only big-name rock performance: Though their latest LP has all the angst of Thrice past, it’s missing the catchy, subversive optimism that made cuts like “Stare at the Sun” so appealing.
With lyrics like “Darkness brings terrible things/ The sun is gone,” new single “All the World Is Mad” is a case for outlawing overdramatic emo-rock in the 21st century — or at least at Sun God.
As far as Thrice’s live performance goes, what you see is what you get. There aren’t a whole lot of theatrics involved, but — thankfully — there’s also not a huge disconnect between the band’s work in the recording studio and what they do onstage. And in the end, every feel-good, carefree day of festivities has room for an angry mosh-pit sesh to force our hair down.
It’s not saying much, but at least Thrice will provide a punky contrast to Michelle Branch’s newfound country influence and Relient K’s more happy-go-lucky Christian rock. The rest of us can hide out in the —Hayley Bisceglia-Martin
News Editor
Crash Kings
Like a sandwich without bread, Crash Kings is a rock band without guitars. A sharper, heavier version of the Fray with a beefed-up bass section and some weird contraption called a clavinet, the band generates enough noise for us to forget the key ingredient is nowhere to be heard.
While the clavi-what plus toe-tapping keyboard make up their trademark sound, it’s Tony Beliveau’s well-trained pipes that steal the show, channeling hits like “Mountain Man” with an assertive, folksy swag reminiscent of Cage the Elephant’s “Ain’t No Rest for the Wicked.”
Granted, only the most musically attuned (and sober) of Sun God’s masses will appreciate the band’s avant-garde rejection of rock ‘n’ roll’s bottlenecked centerpiece. The rest will slur their way through the Kings’ crystal-clear lyrics while waiting for the heavyweights to take the stage, wondering why the guitar is missing two strings.
—Imran Manji
Staff Writer
Relient K
Catering to the traditional rock-band backstory, Relient K was founded by a pack of 15-year-olds screwing around in their mother’s garage. Though they began as a niche Christian-rock band, the group eventually broke into the mainstream, soon peaking at No. 6 on the Billboard Top 200. The Guardian spoke with lead singer Matt Thiessen about bad breakups, playing Warped Tour and hitting the beach before Sun God.
G: Why a Christian rock band?
Matt Thiessen: When we were 15 to 16 years old, Matt Hoop — the other guitar player — and I grew up in the church, and we went to youth group. There’s a bunch of punk-rock groups in the smaller scene in that youth-group culture that we really admire. We wanted to start opening for them, and the songs were about positive things — and that was really appealing to us as well. And we knew that we weren’t going to bum out our parents by having lyrics they didn’t approve of. Matt’s mom wouldn’t have let him in the band otherwise.
G: Was it difficult to break into the mainstream music industry?
MT: When you start out as a Christian band and other people don’t share your beliefs, you can kind of get stuck being perceived as that. Fortunately, we’ve been able to talk about things in a way that’s not preachy. We’ve never been in people’s faces about things. If you don’t share our beliefs, just listen to our songs and take what you want from them. And that’s kind of the beauty of music. We decided that we really wanted to start to try opening for bands that weren’t only associated with Christian music, and that led to another thing and another thing, and eventually we’re on Warped Tour, touring with bands like Good Charlotte.
G: How have your fans reacted to your new album?
MT: You know, it’s been really great, because if we put out an album that people expected, I definitely don’t think we’d be on tour with Paramore right now; I don’t think that Jive would have picked up the record. Changing our sound and making a record we’re proud of was a big part of keeping this band around, and I’m really glad that we did it. I feel like our fans are really growing with us, and do really like the new record. We’ve been playing mostly new stuff live, and the reaction’s been great.
G: How do you feel about your new album being marketed as a breakup album?
MT: There are songs from our earlier record that were really brutally honest … but [our fans] just don’t know. But this time around, it’s on the Internet: Matt broke up with his girl. Everyone kinda knows that that’s what this record is about. It’s a little bit embarrassing being so honest and forthcoming with your feelings … but I think if I can go through something and put into songs how I deal with it … maybe some people can learn to get over things and learn from what I’ve gone through.
G: How excited are you for Sun God?
MT: We’re really excited for Thrice. We just played with Drake at Bamboozle. I’m supposed to write songs with [Michelle Branch], and I look forward to hanging out with her.
G: Can we expect to see you guys at the beach this weekend?
MT: Surfing is on my short list of things to do; I don’t know if I’ll get out there the day of the show, but I’ll definitely try sometime that weekend.
—Cheryl Hori
Associate Opinion Editor
Diversion Sound
The Tuesday before Diversion Sound won the April 3 Battle of the Bands at the Loft — earning a slot on the Sun God Festival’s Main Stage — the trio did something they’d never done before: They played their first show together.
Well, sort of. To be fair, it wasn’t the first time nonstudent Andrew Charlton and Marshall College seniors Derek Lau and Kellen Steffen had jammed together. Hailing from Silicon Valley myself, I’ve known all three band members since middle school, and have witnessed many a Diversion Sound performance — minus Steffen, plus a bunch of other kids — in Charlton’s garage.
Back then, drummer Lau and bassist-turned-singer Charlton were two Incubus fanboys who loved epic instrumental interludes and were admittedly clueless as to how to mesh meaningful vocals with their desire to wig out.
“I wouldn’t sing,” Charlton said. “I’d just turn up the music.”
Since then, the group has undergone a few changes, both in sound and membership. They ran through a couple of fringe guitarist and lead singers and tried their hand at local venues — then broke up when it came time for Lau to leave for college.
After Charlton — who had battled addictions with drugs and alcohol throughout high school — was released from rehab, he decided to move down to San Diego for a DS reunion. That’s when he and Lau asked their friend Steffen to fill the role of bassist.
DS kept their ambitions modest at first, performing at churches and boba shops, always with eager tagalongs on other instruments. Soon enough, though, they recognized a need to make their four-minute riffs more audience-friendly — and, after some coaxing from Lau, Charlton signed up for singing lessons.
Just in time for their university’s biggest gig, DS finished recording their first EP and whittled down their membership to the core three. Charlton shaped his voice into a Creed-esque blanket that flows over the grand drum/bass marathon of Steffen and Lau — caught in a perpetual near-tears serenade about how life is bad but always gets better.
“If I Don’t Mind,” a meditative piece sprinkled with handclaps and driven by a catchy chorus, is the groove to listen for come Sun God. Their other tracks stray into long clouds of atmospheric jam, topped with vocal cheese courtesy of Charlton (he’s also the author of a Christian children’s book). Still, even the most jaded literature major will find it refreshing to hear Charlton belt, “If you believe in what you’re doing/ It shouldn’t matter what they say” — and know he actually lives by it.
Though the band is “nervous as hell” for this Friday, Lau said they’re not expecting much of a turnout.
“I honestly don’t think there’s going to be that many people there,” Lau said. “Maybe 150.”
“Including workers,” Charlton said.
“And Michelle Branch and Drake,” Steffen added.
Whatever the size of the audience, the trio plans to throw it down.
“We have this motto, right?” Charlton said. “It’s like: ‘Play every show like it’s the most important show’ — because most of the time it is the most important show.”
—Alyssa Bereznak
Managing Editor
Robbed by Robots
Rising out of the Long Beach electronic scene, Robbed By Robots is a nu-disco deejay who spins house and radio pop into a cotton-candy lather. Most importantly: It’s danceable enough to get us moving, even before the ecstasy kicks in.
This club guru will keep the crowd hopping with hands in the air, throwing down a hyperactive setlist of original production and upbeat remixes of ’90s pop favorites. For those of us who see Sun God as another excuse to break out the outrageous rave attire and bathe ourselves in lasers, Robbed By Robots is the perfect Dance Tent escape from the weak beats of this year’s mainstream pop-rock and hip-hop.
—Gretchen Wegrich
Staff Writer
Shark Attack
Be prepared for an oscillating wave of build-ups, breakdowns and midday sway in the Dance Tent on Friday, courtesy of local deejay duo Shark Attack. Coronado duo Patrick Heaney and Mike Delgado got their start with residency at the Beauty Bar in San Diego, every time Shark Attack Tuesday cam around. (The name stuck.)
Working their way up the club ladder, the pair soon began to spin alongside giants like Steve Aoki, LA Riots and the Bloody Beetroots — in addition to driving massive, sweaty crowds into hysteria all on their own at venues like Voyeur and our very own Loft.
Heaney and Delgado will likely be performing stuff from 2009 EP “Shooting Judas,” a lightning set packed with diverse beats that mimic ambulance sirens and car alarms. Most tracks are fast and danceable, but beware of buzz-killing slow moments: They will either come as welcome breathers or simply piss you off.
Shark Attack is a heavy and throbbing pick for a sunlit 2 p.m. canopy slot, but your Cap Mo-spiked brain cells probably won’t know the difference anyway.
—Amanda Martinek
Staff Writer
Designer Drugs
Michael Vincent Patrick, one half of electronic duo Designer Drugs, spends a lot of time flying coast to coast. After performing in San Diego last Thursday, Patrick flew home to New York prior to his slated appearance at Sun God. Back on his native coast, Patrick spoke with the Guardian about the future of DD, his friendship with bandmate Theodore Paul Nelson and his thoughts on West Coast living.
The Guardian: Do you like the West Coast?
Patrick: Yeah.
G: Have you had In-N-Out yet?
MP: [Laughs] I have, yeah. I’m not a huge fan. Though it is pretty good — the first time I had it I loved it.
G: When did you start making music?
MP: When I was like 13 years old, I started toying around. I wanted to be in a punk-rock band.
G: What made you decide to move away from that genre of music?
MP: I started getting into the stuff that was coming out at the time — a lot of new electronic music that was surfacing, like stuff that was getting mainstream. That’s how I got exposed to it, once stuff started getting popular on TV.
G: When did you and Theodore meet?
MP: When we were like 15 or 16. We both had [an] interest in similar music, so we both sort of messed around, trying to make music. But between then and now, we’ve done a lot of stuff. We’ve gone our separate ways several times. But we’ve always stayed in touch. Once we decided to do the Designer Drugs project, we were both stoked on it, and both put forth the effort.
G: Is he still in medical school right now?
MP: He has to take some big exams this summer, and I think he’s studying for … uh … some big test or something. I don’t know. I kind of don’t pay attention. So I don’t know how much touring he’s going to d,o or how much studio work he’s going to do.
G: Would you like to collaborate with other artists in the future?
MP: I think what I would really like to do is write music — you know, pop songs for like, Britney Spears — just because it seems like it would be really fun to do. We just don’t have the time right now; but that would be cool. But right now, I’m not too interested in collaborating — I’d like to just work on our own originals. We just wrote an album; it’s going to come out in September. The first one was such a learning experience that I’m even more excited to do the second one, because I think we have a better idea of what we need to do.
G: Is the new album you’re coming out with mostly original tracks or remixes?
MP: It’s going to be all original songs — like 12 songs, 13 songs. Maybe a few remixes for our fans.
G: Do you enjoy making remixes more, or original tracks?
MP: I think originals, yeah. You have more of a blank canvas with originals.
G: What’s your favorite Designer Drugs song?
MP: That’s a tough one. ‘Drop Down’ is probably my favorite original.
G: Any pre-show rituals?
MP: Not really. I just normally do shots, and that’s about it. Sometimes I’ll take a nap or watch “Full Metal Jacket” or something — get pumped up.
G: What’s your alcohol of choice?
MP: We used to drink Jameson. Now we drink Patron or some sort of tequila before the show. I switched just recently from whiskey to tequila, just to stay out of trouble. [Laughs.]
G: Pretty fitting for where we are.
MP: Yeah, definitely. It’ll be good after my San Diego tacos.
—Neda Salamat
Associate Focus Editor
Skeet Skeet
He may have a flash-in-the-pan stage name and a style he brushes off as “electro indie party shit,” but killer deejay Skeet Skeet keeps the drunks swaying and the trippers tripping to a timeless groove.
His mixes are delicate little webs spun from a generous sampling of songs — from Nirvana, Queen, Jay-Z, Whitney Houston — and treated with dirty beats and out-of-nowhere manipulations. The dance-pop chorus of Katy Perry’s “Hot ‘N’ Cold” evolves into a psychedelic trip-hop experience before melding into a Janet Jackson track. Hell, he even makes Ke$ha’s “Tik Tok” listenable.
His samples mix, mash and collide, but they never lose their bounce or sense of humor — mostly because Skeet himself radiates likeability, winning over his audience just as effortlessly as the artists he samples.
Though Skeet is one of the lesser-known names on the bill, he’s sure to rack up some reccommendations from those of us coherent enough to make our way to Rimac Field before the sun sets.
—Bryan Kim
Staff Writer
