Feature: From Arular to AIM – the politics and activism of M.I.A.

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED BY DOUBLE J, APRIL 2019

When it comes to the artistry of M.I.A., politics and music have never not been intertwined.

Of course, popular music has often held a mirror up to the political and social climate of its time, but over the course of five studio albums, Mathangi Arulpragasam’s voice has been a critical one, a fiery one.

A voice that has not wavered in its strength since 2005’s Arular, and one that has continued to buck the expectations of major labels as a marketable artist in a pop realm.

Pull Up The Poor

M.I.A.’s debut album Arular, laid the groundwork early. The album’s title – the political code used by her father during involvement with Tamil militant groups – set an early theme.

As with the British punk wave of the 1970s, the music M.I.A. produced reflected observations of a community the spotlight often swung away from. London’s cultural melting pot, built on stories of refuge and rebuilding, was given its stage.

Couple this with lyrical narratives surrounding murder, political warfare, the refugee experience and a struggle for independence, and M.I.A.’s debut was one that painted her early as a pop provocateur, an inciter of mischief.

Little did the naysayers realise, M.I.A was only getting started.

Flight Of The Paper Planes

A move to incorporate a more global scope in her music came soon after the success of Arular, with M.I.A.’s second record Kala in 2007.

Named after her mother and inspired both by her struggles and M.I.A.’s own issues in accessing a United States work visa, Kala was made during travels through India, Japan, Trinidad and Tobago, Jamaica, Liberia, and even Australia.

The album stands as one of M.I.A’s most important, body of work speaking. Kala brought M.I.A her first Grammy nomination for ‘Paper Planes’ (Record of the Year), while collaborations with the likes of Timbaland, Switch and Diplo on production elevated Kala to further esteem and acclaim outside the UK.

The record expanded on themes set on Arular, with the focus pointing inward on the refugee experience, often in a hostile environment. In sing-song, playground rhyming cadence, M.I.A’s satirical tone also takes flight beautifully on Kala, as she continued to expose the flaws of a global system and, in doing so, also exposed the flaws of a music industry that ironically, the album was skyrocketing her upward within.

The release of ‘Paper Planes’ marked a cataclysmic change in pace for M.I.A on a global scale. A satirical look at the American perception of immigrants and foreigners, particularly post-9/11, ‘Paper Planes’ courted criticism and acclaim in droves.

Her supposed support of the Tamil Tigers, through the success of ‘Paper Planes’, led to M.I.A’s work being banned on radio and television throughout Sri Lanka.

“I can’t justify my success otherwise.” she told The Daily Beast in 2009.

“I can’t justify getting nominated for an Oscar or a Grammy, that to me wouldn’t mean anything if I don’t actually get to speak about this.”

Though ‘Paper Planes’ wasn’t the first time M.I.A provided pointed political commentary through music, the song provided her with her biggest stage at the time.

Nine months pregnant, she performed alongside Jay-Z, T.I., Lil Wayne and Kanye West at the 2009 Grammys - a performance that further solidified her status as a bona-fide hustler, making her name.

Born Free

In 2010, she released MAYA, a record that saw information politics and the digital age act as a prominent feature for M.I.A.’s creative output.

From the glitchy, industrial elements of the Sleigh Bells-sampled ‘MEDS AND FEDS’, through to the album’s artwork, the advance of the internet – and because of it, a slew of misconception and alternative truths – played a central role in M.I.A’s third release.

Perhaps more sonically aggressive than its predecessors, MAYA’s messaging was maturing and becoming more pointed.

The release of the short film accompanying ‘BORN FREE’ was a slice of guerilla-style action; conceptualised and filmed without the knowledge of M.I.A.’s record label, the video depicted a genocide against redheads. Violent and graphic, the video highlighted the absurdity of genocide itself and in doing so, showed graphic violence against people who did not fit the usual narrative.

‘I’ll throw this in ya face when I see ya, I got somethin’ to say,’ M.I.A taunts on the track. The brashness in her delivery indicated a continued unflinching, unwavering promise that violence on this scale was indeed very real.

If we felt confronted by the music video, we weren’t ready to digest the realities at the core of its inception.

Live Fast, Die Young

The release of Matangi in 2013 and M.I.A’s most recent – and apparently final – album AIM in 2016 displays the empowerment and drive of M.I.A’s artistry in different ways.

The former, which might be considered the least abrasive of M.I.A.’s discography, nevertheless remains unrelenting.

The music is almost exhausting to listen to, which may have been the point. Experimenting heavily with hip hop and bhangra, Matangi plunges itself into ideas of Eastern spiritualism more than it does political warfare and less-travelled edgy terrain.

Alleged input from WikiLeaks founder Julian Assange ties the album to the underground, guerilla approach of previous material, yet M.I.A. provides the listener with some of her most forward-thinking ideas yet.

‘If you only live once, why do we keep doing the same shit?’ she muses at the end of ‘Y.A.L.A’. ‘Back home where I come from, we keep being born again and again’.

Themes of karma, rejuvenation and female strength resound, while the music takes on a slicker tone.

Five albums in and it could be said that music listeners and the industry still don’t have the ultimate vision of Mathangi Arulpragasam that the artist is willing to deliver.

We see this urgency in full flight on AIM opener ‘Borders’, a look at the world’s current refugee crisis.

“The world I talked about ten years ago is still the same,” M.I.A. posted on Twitter. It comes as a sombre realisation; are things as bad as they ever were or have we, as a public, simply had our eyes opened more?

Urgency, charisma and self-awareness have always been at the core of M.I.A.’s work.

‘What haters say about me don’t worry me,’ she spits on AIM’s  ‘Finally’. ‘I keep it moving forward to what’s ahead of me.’

It’s a thread of confidence that has buoyed M.I.A’s work as much as each banging bhangra beat or electronic lash. From ‘Paper Planes’ to ‘Born Free’, M.I.A. refuses to be quietened.

Whether AIM is the final M.I.A. album remains to be seen. If it is, the artist has gone out with flair. She might not necessarily be shaking the industry down with vivid imagery backed by fist-pumping beats, but she’s cleverly interwoven a global narrative with music that has traversed genre and cultural boundary.

As a music fan and a fan of strong, empowered artists in an industry of steadfast gatekeepers, I love this.

Listen In: The Scenario - Kiss FM

PHOTO CREDIT: Chelsea King

Since late 2018, I’ve been on air weekly with one of Australia’s best photographers (certainly one of the leading music photographers in the country), Michelle Grace Hunder, hosting The Scenario on Kiss FM.

While traditionally a dance music station, The Scenario is Kiss FM’s flagship hip-hop and R&B show, programming everything from new and old schools, while also hosting special guests in studio. Both Michelle and myself are passionate about giving new artists the platform to share their stories and new music, and The Scenario has given us an opportunity to do so, while also connecting with the wider hip-hop community.

Recent guests have included Remi and Sensible J, Genesis Owusu, Lady Lash, Kwasi, Mai Sisters and Saint Lane, while the second half of 2019 is looking to be stacked too.

If you’d like to get on our radar, follow us on social media below - for artist and interview, email our producer Elle Sutherland (elle@hellomoonhouse.com).

Tune in Wednesday nights from 7pm at kissfm.com.au or on 86.7 and 86.88 FM if you’re cruising around through Melbourne and the inner north.

Facebook
Instagram

Interview: SABA

PHOTO CREDIT: Giulia Giannini McGauran
ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED BY LNWY, DECEMBER 2018

“TEENS in Chicago always feel silenced. They always feel the older people just want us to be something that we’re not.”

Rising hip-hop star SABA is sitting across from me in a Melbourne cafe, world’s away from Austin on Chicago’s west side where he grew up.

A city well known for its inner-city violence, Chicago hasn’t always been the most encouraging of environments for young people to chase a lifestyle that hasn’t already been marked out for them. But this was not to be SABA’s path.

An excellent student – “I went to school everyday,” he raps on ‘401K’ from his ComfortZone mixtape – SABA attended open mic nights and youth groups in Chicago’s Wicker Park neighbourhood. These proved to be a creative catalyst, giving him the ability to explore his own ideas and find his voice.

“I had been doing music for almost 10 years by the time I had even gone to an open mic,” the 24-year-old says, looking remarkably fresh for someone who had only step foot off an international flight a day before.

“I knew what I wanted to do, but the open mic [night] was a training ground.”

Like his Chicago peers Noname, Mick Jenkins and Chance The Rapper, SABA was mentored by Brother Mike, whose YouMedia Centre made a huge impact on the area’s emerging hip-hop scene.

“[He] just looked after everybody and he encouraged everybody,” he says of the poet and youth leader, who died in 2014. “The open mics were where we could go and be ourselves.

“For some people, they would become themselves there. I credit a lot of just finding my confidence – finding what I wanted my message to be and who I was as a person – to just going to those open mics and [building] some of those relationships there.”

"If your dad was a car mechanic or something and you grow up and take over the family business one day, that’s what it felt like I was doing."

This confidence and clarity in identity is a strong element of SABA’s music and performance style. The stage is where SABA is truly at home. A poet driven by beats and the vigour of a young artist with an important truth to be spoken, he thrives on the undeniable energy exchanged between himself and the crowd.

“Ridin’ through the city/I’m young, I’m black, I’m guilty,” he laments on ‘BUSY/SIRENS’, a choice cut from his 2018 album CARE FOR ME. “I know ones that want to kill me/They don’t know me, but they fear me.”

BORN Tahj Malik Chandler, SABA grew up surrounded by music and musicians including his father, R&B artist Chandlar, who appears on the outro of SABA’s ComfortZone mixtape.

While his dad lived New York – “He moved there when I was four” – his influence on SABA’s career was profound.

“My upbringing is almost 100 percent responsible for me doing music now,” he says. “A lot of my family did music and my dad still does music. If your dad was a car mechanic or something and you grow up and take over the family business one day, that’s what it felt like I was doing.”

CARE FOR ME paints a textured portrait of his upbringing, marked by humour, self-awareness and grief.

“We really wanted to treat it as if it were a masterpiece,” he says. “It wasn’t ready until it was ready. I didn’t really care if people were going to like it or not. I just wanted to like it myself. I thought that was going to be enough.”

•••

SABA’s emergence as a hip-hop identity to watch with a keen eye dates back to ‘Everybody’s Something’, his 2013 collaboration with Chance The Rapper. It was followed by another guest verse on ‘Angels’ from Chance’s 2016 mixtape Coloring Book. When the album was nominated for a Grammy it boosted his profile considerably. Chance returned the favour on ‘LOGOUT’ from CARE FOR ME, which further explores their seamless dynamic as they bounce off one another on the track.

2012 saw SABA release his debut mixtape in GETCOMFORTable, a fervent collection of music that showed early signs of his potential as one of Chicago’s premier young artists. He followed it up with 2014’s ComfortZone, another showcase of his quick wit and honesty.

SABA’s distinctive sound became part of a new musical tapestry being made in Chicago, threading together strong personal stories and a melting pot of influences beyond hip-hop such as spoken word, jazz, and soul.

Alongside Mick Jenkins, Noname, Smino and Jamila Woods, his music would become a game-changer for young people in the area.

“Back in 2011-2012, when I became close with Noname and Mick Jenkins, we had always seen ourselves as bigger than what a lot of the world had seen us. I think that’s how it has to be as an artist – even as a person in general. You have to see the success for yourself before anybody else can.”

SABA says he can see the ripples of change among the next class of Chicago artists currently making their way. But a lot has changed for him personally since those initial mixtapes and his teen years idolising hometown heroes including Kanye West and Lupe Fiasco.

“I’m not going out much, so I don’t know what the kids are into now,” he says, laughing. “I think I am a little removed back home. Now [Chicago’s] just moving like a machine. There’s always new artists coming up.”

While many areas of the city still battle crime, violence, poverty and oppression, SABA and his extended musical family of artists see themselves as examples of those who made it out and broke the mould.

“There wasn’t really a community in Chicago of artists for a long time so our class [of peers], I feel, made it out of nothing. We saw the importance of it and now, I think the teens now are looking up to us to see the importance of just being together and sticking together.

“There are more opportunities now in the city of Chicago for teens who want to do music or just want to pursue the arts in general,” he continues. “A lot has to do with our class and generation.”

•••

WHERE previous releases offered unfiltered insights into his life and upbringing, CARE FOR ME finds SABA at his candid best.

Threaded through the album are SABA’s thoughts and memories of his cousin, fellow rapper John Walt, who was murdered in 2017. The stories are equal parts bittersweet and harrowing, delivered with nuance and reflection.

“Jesus got killed for our sins/Walter got killed for a coat,” he details on ‘BUSY/SIRENS’. “I’m tryna cope, but it’s a part of me gone/And apparently I’m alone.”

Over the course of the album we learn about the tight bond between the pair; one that extends to SABA’s other family, Chicago collective Pivot Gang.

“Back in 2011-2012, when I became close with Noname and Mick Jenkins, we had always seen ourselves as bigger than what a lot of the world had seen us."

The group – comprising SABA, his brother Joseph Chilliams, childhood friend MFn Melo and fellow rappers Dam Dam, Frsh Waters, Daoud and daedaePIVOT – has been a driving force in Chicago’s independent hip-hop community since 2012.

Pivot is more than just a name, however, it’s a safe zone for SABA. His debut Australian show in Melbourne in December 2018 was a prime example of how Pivot has grown into a more global community, with sections of the audience chanting their name. That growth puts a smile on SABA’s face.

“I want [future records] to be completely different from what I did this year and the year before.” he enthuses. “I don’t want to be an artist who creates the same thing. We’re at the point now where we kind of have a ‘sound’, but I want to keep expanding on it and keep building it. Keep it different.”

Even though CARE FOR ME details heavy loss and heartbreak, SABA considers it a strong step forward for him as an artist and a cathartic one for him personally.

If anything, creating this work has given SABA the opportunity to heal, while simultaneously opening up new facets of his creative voice.

“Each album is like a chapter of my life,” he explains. “I view projects in general as an easy way to get a lot off of your chest.”

Feature: The Ever Changing Face of Australian Hip-Hop →

PHOTO CREDIT: Michelle Grace Hunder
ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED BY THE AUSTRALIAN MUSIC VAULT, APRIL 2019

A cultural movement derived from oppression. A musical genre that has illuminated struggle and identified a sense of belonging amongst the marginalised and in doing so, became an art form of empowerment. It became a unifying presence in communities seeking it. From its beginnings in the Bronx, hip hop has since developed into a dominating force in pop culture today. A simple glance at commercial pop music charts and its prominence is clear.

Internationally, each guise of the genre has represented the unique identity of the society from which it has been born. Links to its African-American origins have remained in varying degrees, however, the development of hip hop in other countries has become a powerful (and oftentimes very entertaining) soundtrack to the changing of many a societal identity.

Australian hip hop is a perfect example of this. From charged messages against racial injustice and discrimination in the 1980s and 1990s, through to the localisation of the music being embraced by the wider Australian music industry in the 2000s and now, with an ambitious new generation of artists picking up the mantle, there is no other sector of Australian music in as much flux as Australian hip hop.

“I’ll be the spanner in the works of your f*cked up plans…”
TZU, 'Recoil' 2005

Cultural and identity politics have been a steadfast foundation of Australian hip hop’s evolution, whether it be Munkimuk’s ‘Dreamtime’, The Herd’s ‘77%’ or more recently, A.B Original’s ‘January 26’, the representation of the financial, racial and governmental fractures within Australian communities has long been subject of artists’ bodies of work.

Though largely influenced by groups including Public Enemy, politically-charged Australian hip hop laid strong foundations for musicians at the head of today’s resurgence three decades ago. Emerging from a thriving creative underground, artists including Brothablack, Wire MC, Munkimuk and the South West Syndicate vocalised issues affecting Aboriginal communities and setting a powerful precedent for expression through rap with that the likes of Briggs, A.B Original and BIRDZ continue to champion today. 

As the culture of Australian hip hop became further embraced by the wider music industry through the 2000s, once more we saw a distinctive voice filter through the beats. There was a notable strive for an ‘Australian identity’ that was less reliant on a heavy borrowing from the US, more on highlighting the Australian lifestyle and the ups and downs that had come with it.

“We’re staying dedicated to perfection…”
Hilltop Hoods, ‘Still Standing’ 2009 

Music by Koolism, 1200 Techniques, Def Wish Cast, The Herd and the Hilltop Hoods became orchestral in the establishment of Australian hip hop’s new chapter.  As ARIA began to recognise the public’s growing interest in the genre, the industry became home to thriving voices including Illy, Drapht, Thundamentals and Horrorshow. A familiarity found in accent and cadence, humour and content matter, gave rise to Australian hip hop with a large demographic of music fans, yet it was not without its criticisms.

The ‘redneck rap’ label is one that Australian hip hop artists have been shirking as the climate for hip hop globally has also been changing. As hip hop merges more and more with pop, electronic and indie music, new influences have emerged. Collaboration with musicians outside the genre, from both Australia and abroad have brought international attention and acclaim to not just Multi-Platinum selling artists like the Hilltop Hoods, but also to trailblazing names like Tkay Maidza, Sampa The Great and L-FRESH The Lion. 

“Pour up the love, let the healing begin…”
Sampa The Great, ‘Energy ft. Nadeem Din-Gabisi’ 2018
 

In the music of a younger generation, Australian hip hop breathes a new and ferocious fire. Urgency comes from the pens of wordsmiths like Sampa The Great, Genesis Owusu, Tasman Keith and Remi. Rising up as a powerful voice for those marginalised communities still suffering, Australian hip hop is fast regaining a platform to affect, uplift and encourage change. The idea of looking back in moving forward, charges this new music with potency and musically, Australian hip hop is seeing a renaissance of classic and contemporary hip hop, R&B and soul carving out a dominating presence within the genre.

Australian hip hop is music that represents growth without ignoring the fact it still has quite a way to go in achieving an ideal balance that allows for new voices to shine brightly. Women, a largely underdeveloped sector of the culture in Australia, are now emerging as key players in taking Australian hip hop forward.

In the lyricism of Sampa The Great, Tkay Maidza, OKENYO, Coda Conduct, Kaylah Truth, Nardean and Jesswar, Australian hip hop has adopted a fierce, opinionated and wickedly charming new guise. Their stories and records stand toe to toe with their predecessors.

For each lover of 1200 Techniques’ Choose One, there’s a mutual love and respect for Sampa The Great’s Birds and The Bee9. Just as TZU’s Smiling At Strangers album entertained while injecting sharp edge into the songs, so too does OKENYO’s defining release, THE WAVE.

“We were fruits from the trees, now you watch us grow…”
Genesis Owusu, ‘Wit Da Team’ 2018
 

As the Aussie hip hop fan demographic continues to diversify, so does the music tastes of the wider audience of Australian music fan. The emergence of Baker Boy, Dallas Woods and Kaiit in the recent peripheries of not just the Australian hip hop industry, but fans too, marks an exciting counterpoint for the culture moving forward. Young, potent musical storytellers completely in charge of their artistic direction, contributing to strength in Australian hip hop’s new guard with musicianship rooted in individual style and delivery.

The history of Australian hip hop and its evolution is impossible to consolidate into a strict framework. What can be gleaned from the last three decades of releases, triumphs and cultural shifts is that Australian hip hop is a genre that continues to look inward at itself, at its history, as new generations of storytellers establish a new identity for the culture.

Artists today are unafraid to acknowledge the failures of the genres past, but also the achievements of those who have come before.

The future of Australian hip hop has never looked brighter.

Interview: Dallas Woods

PHOTO CREDIT: Ken Leanfore
ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED BY RED BULL, APRIL 2019

A connection to home, a connection to the ones who have come before, and a vision for what lay on the road ahead, has been at the centre of Dallas Woods’ musicianship. The Noongar man from the East Kimberley, who now calls Melbourne home, is part of a new wave of Australian hip-hop artists turning the genre on its head.

Touring with Baker Boy - an artist Woods took under his wing back in 2014 - has not only exposed fans to Woods’ electric stage presence, but further invited music fans to discover the rapper’s prowess on the mic and brash lyrical honesty. His music toys with the dark as well as light themes. A dynamic performer, Woods has incorporated his struggles, his evolution and the insatiable ambition he has an artist, into his music with exciting fervour.

What comes across so passionately with your 64 Bars, is a sense of nostalgia and reflection. How has growing up in a small town influenced your direction, making moves in your career?

I feel like, if you don’t know where you come from, how do you know where you’re going?

The person who I am today is a mixture of all these experiences that I’ve had as a kid growing up. When you grow up in a small town, there’s limitations to opportunities but when you’re young, you don’t see it like that. When you finally step out of from where you’re from you’re like, “Man, there are so many more opportunities,” but then you really do appreciate the little things that your town had, that the city doesn’t have. The freedom of a small town - you can really find yourself as a human there.

Have you found your views of home have changed now you’ve been gone for so long?

When I go back, I see a different place. You leave for a little bit and there’s a new generation who is going to take over. You see a difference in how my generation perceived and grew up with things, compared to this generation who would rather stay indoors and play games instead of being out on country and living how the old people used to leave. I didn’t even understand the extent of the place I was living in, the beauty of it.

You’re currently touring with Baker Boy, who is riding a whole wave of his own. What has it been like to see crowds respond to him, and by extension, the work your crew has been doing for some years now?

It’s crazy. I see it from two sides. Getting to travel around with Baker Boy, you get to see how Australia is loving this fresh air of hip-hop. Even an old hip-hop head will come up to me and say, "Lyrically, Australia needs someone like you," - those small little wins are what I do it for.

That’s the [overall] aim, to bring awareness with our artform that everyone listens to. At the end of the day, when I [first] heard Aussie hip hop, I wasn’t a big fan. But when I listen to the actual lyrics, I’m like, “These guys are doing their thing!” That really pushed me to go look at hip-hop in my country and obviously, their stories are a lot different to mine, but they’re stories nonetheless.

Who were you listening to, growing up?

When I was growing up I was listening to a lot of Tupac, 50 Cent’s Get Rich Or Die Tryin’ album was the one that got me. I was like, “Wow this is crazy.” As I got a little older, I started listening to a lot of Eminem and Nas; that quick storytelling style. My style of hip-hop was always [based] in the storytelling side of it. I like hearing and painting the picture you could only see in your head, or what you perceive the lyrics to be.

They’re a product of their environment and I love that they didn’t have to change who they were to make music that other people could actually relate to. Not everyone is going to be around places where there are guns popping off, but where the less fortunate and the forgotten about...that doesn’t see colour or culture.

What is it about music that keeps you going, and what is it about hip-hop in this country that is exciting you right now?

I’ve been on the road for the last ten years, really. I’ve gotten to see all of Australia, every state and territory, and I’ve been able to be amongst so many different circumstances and so much stuff that is alien to me in my own country! I didn’t have to travel the world to see those things.

With me, my biggest gift is my sense of awareness and ability to adapt to situations. Within that, I soak up all the energy I can; I watch and learn. You can’t be the voice for everyone, but I just want to be one of many.

Interview: Chris 'Daddy' Dave

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED BY BEAT MAGAZINE, JUNE 2018

His is a discography that extends back to the early ‘90s with Mint Condition, while the last decade has seen him work on records with little-known artists including Robert Glasper, Adele, D’Angelo, Anderson .Paak and Justin Bieber. He, of course, is drummer Chris ‘Daddy’ Dave – instrumentalist, composer, bandleader.

This week, Dave returns to Melbourne with his band The Drumhedz, for the Melbourne International Jazz Festival. A revered name across not only jazz, but hip hop and gospel music, Dave’s status within the contemporary music scene is unshakeable and undeniable.

The Drumhedz’s debut LP was only released in January, but for Dave the wheels hadn’t stopped turning since their fervent mixtape – Chris Dave Presents The Drumhedz Radio Show – was released last year.

“There’s been more work, definitely,” Dave says of last year’s schedule. “More work with new artists that I’ve gotten to meet, and I’ve been able to play with people I’ve never played with – I’m never complaining about it. I was able to reconnect with a few people [too] that I hadn’t had a chance to record with and write with.

“We’re getting to play more this year, so that’ll be fun. We’re already working on the next record too. We’ve got a lot of different projects that we did last year and earlier this year, that will be out later this year. There’s a lot of music coming out, finally. We’ll be able to get it out a little quicker. We won’t have to wait as long. Of course, I’m still writing and producing some surprises that I want to keep quiet.”

On their return to Melbourne, Dave expresses an interest in experiencing local music spots – meeting and connecting with like-minded people has always been a large part of what makes this music community (particularly on a global level) so energising. Especially when it comes to potentially forging new creative relationships.

“This will be our second time coming back,” Dave says. “We had so much fun the first time. We wanted to do it every year, but I guess there’s been some kind of stipulation that meant we couldn’t do it every year. They can’t have artists back to back, but it’s worked out that we were able to come back now, with the album having come out this year too.

“Each artist is different,” he says, detailing the diversifying roster of artists he works with. “I’m pretty cool with everybody, so I’m easy to work with. I already know the artist before I work with them, so it’s a little easier, when you’re working in different genres. I know personality-wise who they are and what they’re looking for in their music. My job is just to make sure that we get that across and that they’re happy. That’s the job at the end of the day. If you don’t make everyone happy, they’re definitely not going to call you back.”

As conversation turns to the way jazz has entered the mainstream, thanks to artists including Kamasi Washington, Thundercat, and even Pulitzer Prize-winning Kendrick Lamar, Dave remains unsurprised about the genre’s wider exposure.

“It’s interesting. For us, it’s been this way for the last five or six years; now, it’s getting more exposed to the world. It’s good that it’s gotten out and it’s a little more popular and more people appreciate it; appreciate all the other musicians from across the world doing it. We all knew about each other from a while back, so this isn’t necessarily new. It’s a progression of whatever sprouted back then.

“I met Kamasi many years ago, and I think the first time Thundercat went to Japan was with The Drumhedz,” Dave remembers. “We all connected way back. We are all fans and friends of each other, so we always try to make sure we support and help each other. We were able to write something together on Kamasi’s new album, I was excited about that.”

Music and its expression, its core evocative energy, is at the root of what drives Dave as a creative; even talking about it in the context of the Melbourne International Jazz Festival, there’s a feeling that while he’s happy to be conversing about his music and last few years on the road, he’s much more in his element when he’s creating and playing.

“I normally don’t even like doing it,” he says of technical masterclasses. “[But] I’m doing it for this festival. I usually just like to play and not explain anything; it gets too confusing. Your expression is in what you’re playing. When they’re like, ‘Give me that in words,’ I’m just here like, ‘I can’t give that to you in words, that’s why I play music.’

“We don’t label music in my circles,” he says, which makes collaboration all the more organic. “It all started with who you were playing for. That’s how people formed the opinion of how you played. It depended on how good you were at different genres, and then it expanded from that. It’s more about the experience, how you feel, that emotional energy.”