Interview: Teebs

Teebs is a crystal clear pool reflecting pure creativity. His enthusiasm comes to life through positive energy. When unleashed – whether via the skateboard deck, paintbrush or Roland SP 404 pads – this energy blossoms into richly textured expressions. Teebs, an alumnus of the 2008 Academy in Barcelona, has in just a few short years formed a unique voice, fostering fans the world over. This acclaim shines equally on his music and art output, and as Mark ‘Frosty’ McNeill discovers in the following interview, he’s also a skateboarding chef. As a co-founder of the Southern California based arts collective My Hollow Drum, a member of the already legendary Brainfeeder family and a resident DJ at LA’s dublab.com, he puts heartfelt energy into his every move.

What was the gateway for you with music?

I started with M-83, some odd stuff like that. Dabrye One/Three. Any kind of music, weird music you know? Sun Ra. When I was getting into making music, Broadcast was a big influence. I didn’t know who they were yet and I was working at a skateboarding warehouse and this dude was all into Broadcast. It killed me. Every time I walked up to him and asked, “What are you playing?” it would be Broadcast. Eventually he ended up burning me a couple CDs.

The important ones are the ones that stick.  Were you already a music head? 

No, I skated and I worked in the warehouse and I went to culinary arts school. Not a full blown culinary arts school but it was a school that had a really strong culinary arts programme, one of the best in Southern California. And so I didn’t really know what I wanted to do when I graduated from high school. And since I skated I had issues focusing on school.

Why, were you always thinking about skating?

I just had a hard time with people telling me how to do things and I just felt like school was so boring. I wasn’t engaged. I was never engaged or had interest in any of the things I was learning. I never wanted to memorise or figure out anything. I got it, but I just didn’t want to do it. So, after high school I went straight into culinary school for a year. I did that for a while because I like to cook, but then with college it was like, “You need to pick a major.” And I didn’t want to study math, or English. I didn’t just want a generic title or do any of that for a living, but I knew how to skate, and you know, that’s fun so I went on working in the warehouse.

What was your general musical vibe during that time in your life?

A lot of rap music and one-off songs. All kinds of music. I had friends in a lot of different bands, and I had co-workers who were also in bands and would run little parties. We’d hang out in the warehouse with a mini-ramp and a BBQ. Punk bands would come through and play, so I had that going on. My cousin listened to a lot of rap so I grew up on that, and then a lot of weird instrumental stuff brought me to where I am right now. 

So, skating has an energy like hip hop or punk. But then you listened to Broadcast which has a totally different energy. What do you think you were sonically absorbing there?

I don’t really know. When I listened to Broadcast it was very captivating. Everything else felt like it kind of pounded you in the face, like it fit you into the groove and locked you there, whereas with Broadcast it was more like they were looking for something. That was cool. It was like a journey. I remember freaking out and looking on YouTube and searching for live footage to understand it more. That changed me and I thought, “Music is real trippy.”

Did that make you want to create music or run away from it?

I thought it was amazing but I never thought I could be that guy that could write music. I told the dude in the warehouse who was always playing music and showed me Broadcast that I thought they were amazing. He was excited that I liked it and he told me to try making some music. My brother made music, really weird hip hop, like really crazy stuff. I guess unconsciously my brother pulled me into it, too. He had these programs on the computer that I kinda knew how to use, so whenever he wasn’t around I’d make music. 

How did you meet all those guys from your crew, My Hollow Drum?

Well I met some of them through my older brother. They’re all about the same age as him, about two years older than me. SWAS was already DJing and had everything you needed: the cables, Technics SL-1200s, etc. So, we went by one day, me and this dude Arti, and we were like, “Whoah, cool!” I was rooming with Yuk and he mixed a Broadcast track with Dabrye and I was like, “Damn, we’re on the same shit.” We all liked the same shit. We already knew each other and the music. You know like I’d be more into one thing and he’d be more into another thing. We spent a whole summer DJing in a garage, and then Chad (Yuk) was like, “Yo, lets start this crew. I’ve got cousins, I’ve got people that are all really amazing and we should link. Do you know anybody?” I said, “Yeah, I know Bahwee, and I just met this guy Co Fee, and maybe they’d be down.” So, we all linked up and were into it.  That became My Hollow Drum.

Was everybody living in Chino?

Mainly Orange Country and Chino but Marcus Tully was in LA. I was throwing art shows, and I thought that it’d be dope for all of us to DJ this music at an art show together. We did it a few times and it went off. It was local small town stuff. I remember Free The Robots – Chris heard about it and came through – and he saw one of the shows we did and really loved it. He said he was starting this place called The Crosby. That was My Hollow Drum’s first endeavour, when we started doing the Crosby nights. We’ve been doing that for a couple years now, and that’s been really dope. From there I started making more music.

At that point I was making music in its entirety but not a lot, I just remember getting more and more into it, and then I was getting more and more feedback. People were like “Yeah, you have good tunes, you should really do more tunes.” Then Co Fee was the one that said, “You should try this Red Bull thing out.” That’s when I got more confidence with things, I applied to that and I got in, and I was like, “Oh shit, people like this music!” It’s kinda crazy. I felt pretty comfortable with it after that. 

Many of you were making visual artwork too. Did you first connect on a music wavelength and then realise you were also visual artists or did it surface at the same time?

It was music first. We really got to know each other through DJing and realised we weren’t doing anything collectively with aesthetics. It was like, “You paint? You’re a designer? That’s dope. We can be this whole collective not just based on music, but on anything creative.” So, at that point we just tried to pull everything together. It was really cool, man. It became bigger than just a music thing.

As all this stuff was brewing, were you painting at home on the side?

Yeah, I remember really pushing the painting stuff at that point. The music was starting to happen a bit because I’d play shows or whatever, but I really wanted to paint. 

Were you always making artwork?

Yeah, art was always there, that was the first thing after skating, in a sense. I skated, that’s all I knew, and then I found art as a thing that could make me feel the same way, feel good. I could talk to people in a way, you know? So, I started making art and then I started doing music and was like, “Whoa, it feels the same way.” I was pretty happy when it all came together. Art has always been there, then music came and was a faster language, more direct you know? You feel it, and it’s really direct. My music is more in the forefront to most people, but art has always been my thing, painting. I’ve always felt that.

When My Hollow Drum started, I was putting these shows together, and I would pitch to people, “Yeah, I paint, and don’t worry about the music because we can supply all of that.” That’s how we ran things for a while. Book an art show with music. We’d have a group show where some of us would paint or make installations and let the other guys in the crew manage the music. It was really great.

When did the record cover painting series come about?

After the Red Bull Music Academy. I had met Flying Lotus, and he basically invited me to live with him in Northridge and I was like, “Ok! I’m broke, but sure.” So, I had a challenge, because I had no money or a job at that point, but I figured it would be cool – because if I wanted to be doing this art thing full time, I gotta be able to live off it, to eat by it. So, if I’m going to fuck up, I’d rather fuck up now than later. So, I moved in, so broke. 

Then you got me into that “100” art show of square foot works. I used to only paint on bigger formats, and I thought this would be good for me because I can try to working in smaller formats but I was like, “Wait, I don’t know how to get anything that’s 12”x12”… I can’t make anything. I’m such a bare-bones kid.” I was living in this place where it was like I was squatting, and I had no idea what to do, but then I realised, records sleeves! Duh, it was so easy. I realised I loved the format. I figured I could make drawings because they’re smaller. I don’t have to do large brushstrokes. So, I was just drawing and that swirl pattern came out, and that’s kind of when it all began and just clicked. That’s the best way to describe it.

Poobah was around the corner, they have free records outside. I came by and just asked “Hey can I take all of these?” They were like, “Yes please!” So I must have taken home four crates of records and put them next to my mattress (laughs).

Were you actually living in Flying Lotus’s spot?

Steve [FlyLo] had his own apartment: one person, one bedroom. Next door was Samiyam in a rotating three bedroom one bathroom spot. People moved in and out, but you just paid rent for the bedroom. Sam was living there by himself at that moment, and then I moved in. So, it was just me and Sam living next door to Steve. My room had records all over the floor, and then one of the My Hollow Drum guys gave me a mini fridge, because there wasn’t a fridge in the whole house and Sam gave me an ugly table that I would use as a condiments table. [laughs] It was terrible. I remember telling people, “No, don’t come by.”

How long did you live there?

About seven to eight months. It was really weird, I had no internet, I had nothing, really. Basically, what I did was make the record sleeve art like crazy, every day. Lotus had a huge music collection, he was like my Blockbuster, and I’d go over to him, grab things from him daily. And so my world was around my house. It was like a triangle: there was me, a liquor store and a community college. I’d skate to the college to use the library and the internet, and I’d be that asshole on MySpace or AOL, just like checking emails. People would be waiting for computers to prep for tests and stuff, and I was that dude on Facebook or something, but it was my job. There were people out there that needed to talk to me. It was so bad. [laughs]

So, I’d do that for a while and go down to the liquor store to get a bottle of wine or something, whatever I could afford. I made the paintings on the record sleeves, and they were coming out well. I had this whole project where I planned to do 125 in each series. I hit up P Lo of My Hollow Drum to work together. He made me a website. We dropped 25 at a time. The first series was all me, and the second one had guests. Samiyam drew on a few, he’s a really talented illustrator. Music kids went nuts for those. So, that went down, then I kept approaching more people. It fit in so well with the music community considering the format was based around records. It felt perfect.

It started getting out there, and that was a big step in people checking out my stuff. It was weird, I had emails flowing in to a community college computer I shouldn’t have been at. [laughs] So, I’d be trying to reply to as many of these emails as I could, while watching to see if there was a line forming for my computer. I was doing that for a while, paying my rent by skipping meals and using this stupid school computer.

And then you started selling them off one by one?

Yeah, first come, first served. I’d sell them one by one. $20 a pop. I had calculated my budget: rent costs this much, food is this much, and gas so I could visit my mom or go to a show or something.

Did you make your album Ardour there?

No and yes, I made it between my mom’s house and Northridge, with all those records I had.

You had the record cover series, you had the album Ardour, then there was the art show at Space 15 Twenty. That was really cool because there were elements of all your past work and then new work. The show had a stylised theme formed from a lot of cool, interesting bits like coils in a rope or something. There were all these intricate, elemental organisms building to bigger works of bold minimalism. It was exciting because you were doing amazing things musically and I saw your wheels turning as an artist as well. Did you feel things come together at that show?

Thank you, I really appreciate it, you made me cry a bit. [laughs and wipes away a tear] It was definitely a first. I’d never had a show, well, I’d only had internet shows, basically. It’s crazy, because I always wanted art to be my thing, and I felt so in love with the idea of painting. So yeah, that was a first. The music took off, so I felt like the art took a bit of a backseat because I had to take care of the music thing, but it was the first move towards really figuring out what I’m trying to say. It was a big day, and it was a one day show, so it was really crazy. 

When you’re home these days what’s the gravitation? Is it music, is it art? Different things on different days? 

Different things on different days. It used to be music and art. There was no difference. I couldn’t differentiate. I was literally going back and forth all day, for like 12 hours every single day. Now, there’s so much more happening, and I can’t just leave one thing alone after four hours of working with it. I gotta kind of stay with it all day, possibly even longer. So, now I try to break my head into months, so I’ll say, “I wanna do these things June and July, so I should build them up now.” Like, this is what I’m about this year. So, I’m gonna focus on that idea and reach the goal. That’s how it is now. This is more of a music-based year, so I’m gonna expand this or that.

Everything breaks down so much with music. It’s like, what’s music about? A dope performance? So, what’s a live show about, then? What are you gonna do for a live show, or for creating music? What style of equipment? Are you gonna put mixes out? How are you gonna do the mixes? You gonna spin them or do them on the computer? There’s so many things that I freak over the details of. I think of it in years…this year I’m working on this. So, if someone comes at me with some other shit, I’m like, “No, I’m sorry, but this year is not the year for that.” So, that’s how I work. 

This year, I look at like a music year, but not just a music year, more of a hometown year. I went through three, four months of being out on tour and running around, but now I’m not. I wanna be doing my thing at home, in Los Angeles, with my crew, building things like I built in the beginning. That’s it, and making a lot of music. And some painting, but this is more of a music year in my head. I wanna figure out a live set – I’ve been running around with the idea in my head for awhile, and I wanna try and push that up now.

There are more people coming out to shows and expecting things, and I feel like I really wanna give them something different. I see people at shows, and they’re like, “I’ve seen you three times,” and I get like, “Oh no, you must hate me at this point! Three times? You’re probably so bored of these shows.” I’ve only given one side of myself through my performances. I’m like, “There’s no way you can still enjoy it.”

Feeling a bit behind can keep pushing you forward.

Yeah, I feel like I’m spinning plates, you know? I’m trying to do my thing, obviously I’m the only one that can do my thing, ’cause it’s my thing. Yeah, it’s dope, but man, give me some time and I can give you way better! All I know is that at the end of the day, I’m very excited because I feel like I understand what I wanna do, and now it’s just about doing it. That’s the easy part. Understanding what you wanna do is the hard part. Now, I feel like I’m more comfortable than I’ve ever been in my entire life, and it’s pretty crazy.

I feel extremely lost at the same time, like I’m screwed, but at the same time I really feel like, even though I’m screwed, I really know what I wanna do. So, no matter what happens, even if things go downhill, I still know what I wanna do. And that’s always gonna keep me going up. Everything else doesn’t matter, nothing matters unless you know what you wanna do. I want to make myself happy, even though I know I’ll be physically harmed probably, but everything else will be amazing.

You’re a skater. You’re willing to take those risks and bruise your arms up a bit.

Yeah, nothing else matters ’til I get to where I want to be.