Rob Roy is a rapper and a conceptualist. He took some time off music-making to pick up the nightshift at Ace Hotel DTLA, where he sees a lot of people and occasionally takes pictures in the photobooth (see above). We’re grateful for his help, and also that he’s making music again, because it’s really good. We had the pleasure to talk to Rob about the things and people he loves and the existential philosophies behind his work. Come by and tell him you like his style.
Hi Rob. You've been making music for a while. You took a break and now you’re back. How has the process changed for you?
I'm less wordy. I'd rather get a few strong parts and repeat those things through out. My vocal delivery is more confident. I've also been pitching my voice lower or higher to more accurately convey an emotion. Sometimes singing is not enough.
Who do you count amongst your influences?
DJ Screw is a staple. Same with Björk. As far as specific records, I'd credit Jodeci's Diary of a Mad Band as having the most significant impact on my work.
What’s inspiring you right now?
Books: House of Leaves by Mark Z. Danielewski; The Sense of an Ending by Julian Barnes, The Denial of Death by Ernest Becker.
Songs: "I Serve the Base" by Future, "Dead Dog" by Religious Girls, "SKRT" - Kodak Black, "Fading Out" - J Fernandez, "There's Nothing I Can Do About It" - Mike and The Censations.
Films: Powers of Ten, Under The Skin, Jiro Dreams of Sushi, Pumping Iron, Pi.
Other: Sleep. We undervalue its importance, but it improves brain functionality and cleans out toxic waste proteins.
Your new album’s called JOHNNY. Tell us about him. Is he an alter ego or a muse?
JOHNNY is an archetype, like Marlon Brando's "Johnny" in The Wild One. I'm into the cliché of that word. Deep down, you know you're him. Whereas Kanye or Drake will play with messianic ideas, I'm more interested in constraints. There's a freedom in knowing you're just an animal.
Can you say more about that? The idea of constraints, and what effect recognizing your human and animal nature has had on your songwriting. Is Johnny an everyman?
Johnny could be any man, so yes, he's an everyman. He's not a hero, he doesn't transcend mortality. As far as limits, we're governed by our reptilian brain. Every decision we make is based on emotion. We justify later with logic.
In a world where our attention can be easily manipulated by word choice, full autonomy is an illusion. Reality is primal. The Oscar Wilde quote comes to mind, "Everything in the world is about sex except sex. Sex is about power."
These are the constraints that inform my work.
I see it as knowing a recipe has to incorporate certain key ingredients, like a Top Chef challenge—whether taking into account your own limits or that of natural law. That gives you a base, a set of design elements to play with. From there, you can get really creative. Spiritual even. A reverence for the ordinary can lead us to insights that are extraordinary.
What's the best piece of advice you've gotten?
"Don't take the ride."
Has your job influenced your songwriting in any way?
Ace has given me a community. I'm inclined to isolate myself. Innovation comes from being connected to the world around you, and not just to creatives or the intelligentsia. The best ideas are usually in plain view and from an unlikely source.
Margarita Kallas-Lee is the Pastry Chef at Scratch Bar & Kitchen in Los Angeles. At just 26, she is making her mark on California cuisine with her experimental approach to pastry. She and her husband, Scratch Bar’s Chef Phillip Frankland Lee, recently prepared dinner for a handful of guests at Ace Hotel DTLA. Kallas-Lee filled us in on her grandmother’s influence on her cooking.
When did you know you wanted to be a pastry chef?
I feel that has always been a part of who I was since I was little. My grandfather from my father’s side was a very successful chef in Ukraine and he and my grandmother lived on a beautiful farm growing vegetables, raising chickens and foraging in the forest. Being a part of that really influenced me into creating recipes since I was 13.
What's your favorite sense-memory from time spent in kitchens?
When I'm making dulce de leche, it brings me back to the time my grandmother made me one of her signature desserts, a Ukrainian waffle cake. And that flavor is probably one of my favorite flavors, because of the memories I treasure with time spent with my grandmother.
A favorite recipe?
My favorite recipe right now is our sourdough recipe; it takes about 24 hours to prepare to bake and that entire process is all instinct. You work with dough and you really have to have a sense of the texture, the smell, the way it rises; that's my favorite part – growing a relationship with your technique.
What inspires you in your work?
What inspires me is my husband and my team. I love teaching people something new or sharing with our customers food that I created through my experiences and memories. Having people appreciate that is magical.
We’re not really the sort to toss around terms like “polymath,” but we may need to make an exception for our friend Mel Shimkovitz. Truth is, Mel’s kind of a low-key genius; an LA-based actor/writer/visual artist/jack-of-all-trades perhaps most recognizable for her recent work on the sea-change series Transparent, Mel’s that disarmingly unpretentious friend of yours who’s always quietly simmering on some sibylline brilliance or another—works so varied that they're sometimes a little difficult to put a bow around. We put faith in all of it. So much faith, in fact, that we’ve handed her the keys to this year’s New Years Eve party at Ace DTLA — a retro-futuristic barnburner she’s calling Pluto’s First Party.
For those of you who can't make it to the rooftop tonight, Mel was kind enough to program a progressive, conflict-adverse playlist of sex jams for your night out tonight.
MACHO MEL'S COOL RAUNCH HIT LIST (Queer version)
I’m really quite the queer.
And I’m (predictably) political about it!
I'm also deeply devoted to The Party as both an activity and a philosophy. It's a whole thing with me, The Party; that rare shared experience that bonds a community, a forum for unself-conscious foolishness, an efficacious ritual where casual burnouts actualize their highest selves. I’ve meticulously planned and thrown highly conceptual bacchanals my whole life — from the bizarre bat mitzvah luncheon my parents misguidedly allowed me to plan, to Pluto’s First Party this New Year’s Eve Upstairs this year at the Ace Hotel Downtown LA. What I’m trying to say is: I Live Party.
For me, the prime era of The Party was Brooklyn bootie basement parties in the fall of 2006. When I moved to LA a few years back I didn’t know anyone so I started calling myself a “DJ” and asking people if I could play their parties. Figured that was the best way to get invited to parties. Got invited to parties!
At the clübb (“clübb” being any old dive bar, a vehicle with a good bass booster, getting ready in front of a bedroom mirror with your friends and dancing so long you end up not leaving the house, etc.) I almost exclusively play what I refer to as Cool Raunch: music that encourages sex on the dance floor. But this brings up some political conflicts for a guyl like me; as much I strongly believe in keeping politics out of The Party, I no longer play Chris Brown, R. Kelly or even (sorry/not sorry) Michael Jackson. And I cringe a bit every time I play a track with “the word” responsible for the waves of Huckleberry Finn embargoes.
But how can one have a Cool Raunch party without 2 Live Crew, Nicki Minaj, Ying Yang Twins, Lil Kim, Lil B or even Lil Wayne? I mean, these are the nobility of nasty and they all use “the word” liberally. It’s a major dilemma.
Personally, I haven’t figured this one out. I’m still asking the question. But for now I just play the party, surfing it’s vibe. I play the music like a museum shows the art. Here it is folks: you’re free to form your own opinion! Vote with your feet! I love any music that inspires a good ol’ fashioned consensual groin grind. But given the context this music is being played in and by whom, it could be controversial. It probably should be controversial!
Which brings me back to being queer: occasionally when I’m feeling conflict-averse, I’ll keep my raunch roll to the queerest corner of the genre. Cause I look so damned queer, no one can complain about me co-opting anything! Though I’m certain someone will anyway! Thank goddess, I can barely hear them over the bass blast.
Kids in the Hall Live at the Theatre at Ace Hotel 6/2! on Art Nerd Los Angeles http://art-nerd.com/losangeles/kids-in-the-hall-live-at-the-theatre-at-ace-hotel-62/
Grand Park's being commandeered by the Renegade Craft Fair this weekend — the nomadic national bazaar that jumbles up a frankly hedonistic number of makers and doers for a swap meet of epic proportions. They're gonna bleed you dry and you're gonna thank them for it.
