Waajeed & Platinum Pied Pipers

Sailing mad voyages of hip-hop piracy among a sea of less able producers, Waajeed and his group Platinum Pied Pipers are taking the hip-hop world like bandits. The pirate theme is well deserved: New York’s legendary Tiombe Lockhart has called Waajeed “Pirate King” and “the swashbuckler of funk.” The New York producer’s been plundering and pillaging hip-hop as we know it to arrive at pure, unprecedented treasure.

Waajeed is something of an ingénue in the hip-hop world. He only began producing in 2000, but his beats for Platinum Pied Pipers have the ring of classic producers such as Pete Rock. Hailed as an instant classic sound by Flavorpill, The Platinum Pied Pipers’ Triple P garnered instant fanfare—a rare feat for a fledgling release on Waajeed’s underground label, Bling 47. Waajeed’s history with music is long, though: he began DJing at just 14, mining his parent’s massive vinyl collection for new gold. He met Jay Dee (J. Dilla, RIP) in Detroit around the same time, and was privy to the burgeoning hip-hop scene of the ‘80s. He won a scholarship to art school for painting, but quit school to tour through Europe as a DJ for Slum Village. Upon his return to the United States, he decided to put down his brushes for another set of tools—production equipment.

Platinum Pied Pipers’ Triple P is Waajeed and Saadiq, and boasts cameo appearances by Jay Dee, MC Ta-Raach, UK-based Spacek and SA-RA Creative Partners. It’s pure buried treasure that’s been unearthed by the group’s new approach to soul. Waajeed and I caught up to discuss the radness of the raw, how a painting is like a track, and what really put the funky in Funkadelic.

Tell me about how you guys met. You’re both from Detroit, right?

Yeah, we met sixteen, maybe seventeen years ago. At the time, we had just entered high school, and I was getting into music. There was this kid in my art class who was like, “my brother’s a producer, and he’s really talented. You should come by and grab some beats from him.” The next day he brought me his cassette tape. We made some beats together… with only turntables, a little drum machine, and cassette tapes.

You had a pretty spare setup there. But sometimes that can be for the best. The less software and fancy equipment used, the better.

Absolutely.

So what about Detroit? You are originally from there, but now live in New York. You have a big following in New York, but in an interview I read with you, you were saying a Detroit record shop only ordered eight of your records, and you sold 125 copies at one show in New York. What’s up with Detroit?

I think it’s… I don’t know. I think the grass is always greener on the other side. Wherever you’re not from, that’s where motherfuckers get into you. Like if I was born in New York, people here wouldn’t give a fuck about me. Yeah, that Detroit thing… in interviews I’m always get asked, ‘explain your Detroit sound. You have a Detroit sound, Detroit this, Detroit that.’ It really pisses me off.

I think people equate you with Detroit because you have a raw sound. I don’t think you sound ‘Detroit’ in any way. I think people tend to pigeonhole, which sucks. It’s a really unchallenged way of looking at music.

It’s the easiest way. It sums it up. To name a sound for a city is silly. And if I had a ‘Detroit’ sound, maybe there’d be more records of mine for sale there… the ‘Detroit’ sound is just ghetto tech.

Your sound isn’t very booty bass. So let’s talk about your paintings… tell me more about that. Is there somewhere online where you sell your stuff?

Not really. I wish there was more time in the day.

I’m sure you’re busy, DJing, producing, owning a record label, getting married…

The DJ thing is crazy. I’ve been DJing more than I’ve been producing lately. There’s so much to do and so little time. I wish I had more time to paint, or even draw. I miss it, but making a track is, to some degree, the same thing. With painting, you lay a foundation, and build on it. Add a few things and take a few things away. It’s the same process.

Yeah, it’s just a layering of textures to arrive at overall meaning and balance. Production is all about balance, too.

I agree. That’s part of what’s wrong with popular music these days, especially hip-hop. Because it’s so keyboard-based and doesn’t have any texture to it… every piece of art has to have some sort of texture to it in order to gel. I was just in Dubai, and got back a couple days ago. The whole scene was fresh, but there was no texture to it. That’s part of why I don’t like lots of hip-hop. There’s no texture to it.

I’m always pissed that these silly rappers are so successful. I don’t understand that at all. Lots of mass-popular hip-hop doesn’t say anything, besides ‘booty is great.’

I know. It’s like, what is anyone going to take away from this situation, besides seeing lots of T and A all damn day.

So let’s talk about your history a little bit. Let me get this straight—you got a scholarship for art school, and then quit to go on tour. After your return, you dropped painting and started making beats. Right?

Yeah, I was so into the music, I had to devote my time. I had always been involved with music, and DJing…

How old were you when you started DJing?

I was about 14. I started with my parent’s record collection—they were really into music in the ‘70s, and big party freaks. They had tons and tons of vinyl.

What kind of music were they into?

My dad was into jazz, and heavily into funk… Funkadelic and all sorts of stuff. I really didn’t get Funkadelic until the last ten years…

It’s kind of an acquired taste.

Yeah. You really have to understand what the fuck they’re talking about to even care. So I inherited my parent’s record collection. I have so many… right now I’m trying to alphabetize them. It’s hard to keep track of all this music.

So I’ve read in articles before about how production came pretty easily to you, because it’s a form of expression, kind of like painting. You learn to operate whatever vehicle of expression, and the rest comes easily. Do you agree?

Absolutely. Music gives you another approach. I was hanging out with DJ Spinna a couple days ago, and he’s one of these record, record, record guys. Like he will know the name, producer, cover art…

The label, what year it came out, what pressing it is…

Yeah. Aw, man, he’s one of these record genius guys. He was explaining that your ear is so unique to you. Everyone hears a record differently… I hear a record in a completely different way than anyone else. That’s your benefit; you can approach it differently; chop it up, think about music in a nontraditional way because of being trained as an artist.

That’s the special thing about it… it’s a unique experience. Everyone hears music differently, and the way you create beats is only yours, because only you can hear music that way, and have that particular thing to say.

Yeah. Everyone who’s a great producer has preserved an experience… they’re bringing something unique.

Check Waajeed at Bling 47.

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Ohmega Watts

I call Ohmega Watts (Milton Campbell) in the late evening. There’s something in the immediacy of talking on the phone that you can’t bring about in email. Milton’s forthrightness is apparent from the outset. He talks to me as if we’re old friends, saying, “Hold on, I have to tell ‘em to hold this record while I talk to you.” A muffled conversation with the record shop worker ensues, and I ask him, “So what were you listening to?” meaning at the record shop, but he misunderstands my question as “What do you listen to” in general, and sounds a little baffled as he struggles to say, “You know… soul, hip-hop…” When I tell him I was only asking what record he had held, he reels off fine selects: he’s purchased the Morcheeba LP “Antidote” and put David Clayton-Thomas and an ATCO Beegees album on hold for later listening. During our conversation, I grow to understand that Milton truly understands rhythm without pretension. Despite the relative briefness of our talk, I come away with an idea of Milton’s absolute rarity.

Rare bird. He’s an affable hip-hop guru who doesn’t seem to be all-consumed in tits, ass, or vanity. He’s god-fearing. He’s got great taste in production equipment. He’s funny and without pretension. He’s a graphic designer who’s done work for Lollapalooza. He’s a producer and a photographer. He’s been MCing since 1993. He’s done work with fellow Portland heads and Quannum artists The Lifesavas. He’s both released albums on and designed for a label known for gourmet curation, Ubiquity.

Milton’s productions themselves are timeless. His records are reserved for the precious crates of longevity; those crates that include thick plastic slipcover-ed People Under the Stairs, Pete Rock, Rick James, the rare Cymande, and De La Soul. The crates reserved for records that withstand trends and dust.

Why do you think Shock G / Humpty-Hump wore those horn-rimmed glasses with the beak nose and furry moustache?

It was part of his guise. He appeared to be Humpty, this bugged-out cat, but was actually an alter-ego. Creative marketing... ha ha.

What do you make of people comparing you to Digital Underground?

I never thought about Digital Underground anywhere in the equation, but I guess it's cool and everyone's opinion is subjective to the individual a lot of the time. Some are good speculations, where others are way off target. I don't think this is way off… I just never thought of it, personally.

In some of your interviews I've read, you mention your strong spirituality. Can you comment about how this is pretty uncommon in hip-hop musicians?

Well, in the general market of hip-hop, there aren't many people honestly professing their faith and talking it out at the same time. There's a lot of contradiction in hip-hop, as people can be contradictory oftentimes as well. I personally came to a point of really getting my spiritual life on track, after trying so many other things and just living, but not having a solid direction. I prayed and sought out something concrete, but it ended up coming and finding me when I least expected it.

You've claimed that you don't really listen to much music that's popular today. Do you feel your beats are fresh because your musical palette isn't informed by other common trends? Do you find it trite that most interviewers ask musicians who their influences are?

Yes to the first answer. At the same time, I do listen to a good amount of new music, but stuff like Quantic, Breakestra, Morcheeba, Coldplay and Stereolab. And then my record collection of Brazillian, funk, soul, rock and jazz. I do find it kind of repetitive, concerning your second question, but for a newcomer it's good to get that out the way, I suppose.

What equipment and software do you use? Have you ever thought about producing live in front of an audience with your laptop and mic?

I use an Akai MPC 2000, Roland VS-840EX Digital 8-track Recorder (just for effects), a Motif 6 keyboard, and a MicroKorg analog synth. I use Pro-tools LE on my computer to do the final sequencing of my live editions of sounds and keys to the sequences of drums and samples I run out of my MPC. I have thought about something live, and actually implemented a little something into my set for when a DJ is with me. For now, it's just going to be me MCing and a little MPC vs. my DJ's table battle.

Let's say Atlantic wanted you to collaborate on a Pretty Ricky record called "T&A: Tubetops and ASSets." Would you do it?

Probably not, and no amount of money can change that. I never even heard Pretty Ricky before. I've heard the name, but I'm out of the loop.

Tell me about your first time MCing.

Well, I wrote a rap, and me and my boy would battle in the hallways in high school around 10th grade, I think it was. We would just write a quick rhyme in a class and come out, battle more and more, and then freestyle battle. It was fun but amateur... I kind of always had a style once I figured out how to rhyme to a beat. I never had much trouble staying on beat and I rapped my favorite MC's verses for a long time, so it was easy when I started writing.

What's the best thing you've designed?

Hmm... gotta think about that. I dig the idea I came up with for my crew Lightheaded's “Never Square” 12" cover. Other than that, I did a design for the Adidas-sponsored Lollapalooza this year and the graphics were used and printed in a whole slew of mediums.

Ohmega Watts Myspace
Ohmega Watts on Ubiquity Records

Jamie Lidell

Doug Fir, Portland: rocking immaculate white shoes and a dapper plastic tie, Jamie Lidell exercises immaculate larynx mastery as he vacillates between crooning and belting out “Multiply.” The massive throng of onlookers at the club sorta rhythmically pulsates as one uniform body; it’s as if all present are unable to stop swiveling their hips in time. Cut to Seattle’s Chop Suey the following evening, where Jamie’s performance has precisely the same effect on the sweaty, packed club. It’s a syndrome, apparently: Lidell-induced pulsation-cum-gyration. Because witnessing a true master performing his craft is intoxicating and heady. You lose yourself in the sound, just as Jamie does.

Jamie is something of an enigma. See, there’s the ‘90s Lidell: a glitch techno maven who performing in dim Berlin warehouses alongside his Super_Collider cohort, Cristian Vogel. Both Jamie and Super_Collider spawned a bevy of productions on Mosquito, Warp, Klang Elektronik and !K7. The laptop-loving technite drew a steady legion of fans that remain faithful to his earlier and less accessible releases to this day. Then there’s the crooning Jamie of 2006, a Casanova-looking fellow who shaves onstage from time to time. It’s as if Marvin Gaye were reborn into the body of a skinny white guy from rural England, and let me tell you: it’s perilously hot.

Jamie and I discussed his craft at his Jupiter Hotel digs prior to his Doug Fir performance. Regarding me levelly through thick Elvis Costello-ish glasses, he pontificated on industry expectations opposing his own musical desires, having lots of majors at university, his perfectionism, and an inability to feel pure satisfaction with anything he does. As my pinchy recording equipment went kaput, Jamie cheekily answered a few email questions you see in the Q & A below. He speaks in code throughout, but he’s got a motif: he’s healthy now. He’s ready for his much-awaited success, thanks in part to organic body products and regular colon cleanses. Yep, he’s got antics.

How do you feel that your new album is a departure from the older Super_Collider stuff? It seems your new style is less constrained than your older tech-y approach. What does that say about the headspace you were in when producing under each moniker?

In a nutshell I think it's obvious to the electronic community that I am healthier now AND that means 30% slimmer, thanks to a new diet and training regime change. I am now officially an optimist, and run on a fuel of non-filtered, post-organic, semi-skimmed almond milks and a plethora of natural skin and hair products. I shall soon be branching out into these businesses perhaps merely to prey and play in and on the pockets of the rich and slightly less than secure. I cannot, sadly, reveal my motives.

What's next for you? You're English, living in Berlin, dating someone in France, and touring around the world. Do you plan on staying in Germany?

That's personal. Did I say we could do personal? Is this a date? For the files, I am officially an eco-gypsy, darling.

You've talked before about how your drive is at once positive and negative. You're a perfectionist, and while this can propel you further with music production, you are never satisfied. Where does this come from?

I blame it on diet. Quite simply, an unnatural fetish with all things carb. I know, I know. Self control. The rice and bread was first to go, and I can tell you that since then I'm way more focused. I'd say it's up 40% or so. Then there's the saturated fat intake. SLASHED! No more compound butter in this body temple, I can tell you. Skin care products also get absorbed into the blood. Yes I know. It's terrible. Something nobody really ever talks about. Let me address that right now: choose the wrong deodorant and suffer mental instability. Is it really worth it just to smell good?

What do you think helps you arrive at the spontaneity to create a track like "A Little Bit More" in four hours? I know you're a perfectionist as a musician and have spent months on one single track. What do you think lets your genius loose enough to create a radical work with such little time input?

Actually, through a painful process of deduction, I have worked out the B vitamin intake required for a mental explosion of the sort you mention here. It leaves you a little drained, but it's really worth it. Don't be fooled by the cheap solutions, though. It has to come from organic or pre-organic matter.

What's the deal with the costumes?

50% off in the first quarter, which really hurt, but things are picking up. I didn't want to source material from non-secure government zones. Thank god I've found another way. Strive for the best people.

The general feeling of your new album is this sort of bollocks attitude, like, "I'm living now, 'gonna at least go under with a smile….' It's a departure from your former work, which was detailed and methodical. Why?

I feel you have me all wrong, my dear. How about Tuesday week?

You've labored for many years somewhat under the radar of popular culture, and it seems that there is a great fanfare around what you're doing following your recent tour. How do you remain so down to earth when you're surrounded by the ego of the music industry?

Obviously, there's the ego UV one must protect oneself from. I use an oil based zinc. Dangerous in high potency, but so effective. It's effectively a total block.

Your new record uses minimal electronics and remains mostly acoustic. Do you think your next projects will have a similar approach?

I am purer now. Leaner. I hope to trim the juice intake I currently imbibe to remove what are essentially "bad" habits that still linger. YES, I still crave sugar like a fool. YES, it even comes through my larynx. See, until the colon is cleansed, there really is no hope. Inner strength, people. SERIOUSLY now.

Can you talk about the constraints of the equipment you use? Do you feel that software limits your approach for production in a way that instruments don't?

The peach has a fleshy skin. Oh and how I enjoy sinking my teeth into and THROUGH that skin to the juicy flesh that lays in wait beneath. The skin alone is not a pleasure, BUT it is PART of the experience of eating the fruit. It both contains and adds to the joy of the juice.

What else?

I think that's quite enough.

See Jamielidell.com for more lunacy.

Greyboy: Museum Quality

The road wends and weaves through the Naples neighborhood of Long Beach, California as I approach Greyboy’s Edward Killingsworth- designed monument of a home. I pass the obligatory Lexus SUVs, Jaguars and expansively landscaped lawns of this somewhat yuppified, “cancel- the- Friday- afternoon- patient- appointments-‘cause-I-gotta-play-golf” neighborhood. I’m trying to reconcile the vague preconceptions I have of Greyboy / Andreas Stevens—a playboy of sorts, a sunshine blonde California good ole boy who probably calls his guy friends ‘braw’ instead of ‘bro’ and happens to make really slick beats between surfing sessions—with a new idea I have of a Greyboy who would live withdrawn from the sluts and the clubs in a relatively quiet California city.

As I find his address, I’m taken aback from the simple extravagance of my surroundings. A perfectly restored Dodge in that pukish ‘70s mustard color foregrounds the utter mid-century modern perfection of his house. A walkway of stone steps dotting a reflecting pool leads to a glass-walled entranceway. The adjacent patio’s furniture lines augment the smooth transitions and blocky yet airy style of the dwelling, which was not surprisingly the recipient of the Grand Prix Award in 1967 (the first award ever to be given for residential design by the American Institute of Architects).

Throughout our interview, my ability to reconcile the Andreas that is presented to me with the one I expected is thoroughly depleted. Which is a good thing—it’s not good to categorize people, or have certain expectations—you’re almost always wrong. But Andreas is an enigma. He’s got a museum quality house with every well-dusted period collectible presented in perfect display; it’s as if he’s house sitting for his grandparents. Then he’s got these rather boyish qualities—checkered navy old skool Vans, a fleet of sterling, pimped-out and rare BMX bikes. And then there’s his anti-babe-magnet qualities—his Myspace profile doesn’t boast the inevitable Cleavage Shot Girls peppering his page with comments like, “You are SO talented I LOVE your EYES you are SOooooooo hot. Cum meet me in LA tonight! XXX!!!!!!” So, he’s got the quiet settled atmosphere of a retired person, but the passion of youth. He’s got taste, right down to his diamond-studded DC Shoes pinky ring. He’s not the type to catalog Maxims and Playboys in his bathroom reading material stash. And he’s most certainly not your usual hip-hop impresario who’s been churning out good beats for nearly a decade and a half.

Andreas’s 1994 breakthrough, Freestylin’, was Ubiquity’s first release. 1994 was a ripe year for hip-hop’s renaissance: Pete Rock, Goodie Mob, Outkast, and even the Beastie Boys were moved. But if anyone had tried to marry hip-hop with avant acid jazz prior to Greyboy, they were nowhere near as successful. Many producers of that era were limited by their inability to see rhythm beyond simple categories—jazz, soul, hip-hop, pop. Greyboy, however, married all of them with polyamorous grace and ease. Freestylin’ remained a relic of that movement, later inspiring DJs like Mark Farina in his popular Mushroom Jazz series.

His next success in Greyboy Allstars drew crowds from all walks—Public Radio bespectacled types, hip-hop low-slung pants types, frat boys, and an overwhelming bevy of dreadlocked hippies. Andreas’s talent had come full circle—he had broken down the categorical pigeonholing of genres that usually drew separate crowds, and everyone from everywhere seemed to like it. From a marketing perspective (which is a wholly ironic viewpoint for hip-hop), this ability to appeal to a broad audience versus hip-hop’s usual “sector market appeal” did him well. Andreas went on to surf the first MTV-fueled hip-hop wave that tsunami-ed the remaining part of the century, doing music for everything from the movies Celtic Pride and Get Shorty to a Kelly Slater video game and Budweiser commercials. His next albums, Mastered the Art and Soul Mosaic, also met with raucous fanfare.

After my interview with Andreas, I debated what to say about him for a long while—I couldn’t reach any firm conclusions on him that would anchor a “slant” for an article. Any conclusions, that is, other than these: Greyboy is full of polarities, a truly rare breed, and he’s Mastered the Art. So I’ll let him speak for himself.

I can’t get over your house, and these furnishings. You’re pretty into design, right? Someone told me that you had a store selling furniture at some point?

I had an unofficial sort of business on the side where I dealt art and furniture from this specific period, museum-quality things to private collectors. I have a friend who owns [California Living] gallery in LA, and I sell things there and at some auction houses in the United States. It's a really cool gallery that only sells stuff specifically from mid-'50s to very early '60s, like '55 to '62. I furnish my house with everything from that span of time.

So what do you do to find this stuff... dumpster dive, go to thrift stores?

No. The stuff we're talking about here is really scarce, so usually you'd find stuff from an original estate or collector. It has to do with how long you've been in the game, and how many connections you have. All this stuff's on the expensive side, and you have to have enough money to buy it in the first place. It's just another interest, like architecture—it’s all sort of the same art. [Retrieves laboriously compiled thick black binder stuffed with page-protected photographs, certificates, and articles]. Here's some information about this house. These are articles and things beginning from when the house was finished in '57. That will give you an idea of the scope.... I bought it from this drunk woman who was the fourth owner. After I came back four times, she decided to sell the house to me.
I wanted to preserve the house exactly the way it was when it was finished, even down to the furnishings. In older pictures, you'll see that some of these furnishings were part of the original interior, but they weren't here when I got the house.

You've gone and searched out all the original house furnishings?

Yeah, that stovetop control set wasn't here [gesturing toward kitchen]. I did a lot of searching on eBay, sometimes Craigslist, sometimes other places. It took me 13 months of searching every day to find that stovetop set.

You're pretty devoted.

Totally. For me, if I was going to restore the house, it only made sense to really do it all the way.

Go for it, huh?

I guess it was sorta personal... you know, somewhat selfish, too. I wanted to live in this house I dreamed about.

Let's talk about music stuff. Soul Mosaic is pretty groovy, but it's a real departure from Mastered the Art, which is flow-y and melodic. Soul Mosaic is angry.

Yeah. My albums are sort of a product of where I'm at, at the time.

You been angry lately?

Yeah... you know, yeah. Totally [laughs]. I wasn't really angry when that record came out; I was more moody at the time. I was finishing that album while I was doing this, when I first moved to Long Beach and was neck-deep in restoring the house. It was a weird time. I do a lot of collaborating, so the albums are a product of who I collaborate with.

You collaborated with a lot of old jazz guys on Soul Mosaic...

Singers, rappers, musicians... it just depends. The only common thread with my records is that they're all going to have that hip-hop influenced sound. The beats are going to always be funky, and there will always be a lot of sampling involved. It will never be that overproduced. I'm working on my new album now, which will probably be released in fall. It's delayed because I just got out of the studio producing the new Greyboy Allstars album...

Your old band, right? I thought you guys broke up in '96.

Yeah. It was a really weird, big deal where the band decided to get back together to record another album. There was a lot of strife in the band... just people being stupid and thinking that they were the reason the band was cool, and having resentment towards me. The band dissolved and everyone went their separate ways, and then it came full circle, to the point that all the guys in the band were like, "We're sorry we messed everything up."

Sometimes success can mess with people's heads. I know Greyboy Allstars were successful.

Yeah. It's a really common thing that happens to bands when they get right on the verge of something really, really big happening. It just derails the whole program.

Didn't you guys have some sort of hippie following?

Yeah, hippies. It was unexplainable. They have a wide appreciation for music. The band is almost all instrumental, and hippies are into instrumental music. I used to do a lot of work doing movie soundtracks for snowboard companies and stuff, and so we'd go to the mountain towns to play these gigs, and a lot of 'em would be out in those areas. But if you like the music, I don't really care what you look like. Every once in a while, someone would make a smartass comment about having a hippie following, but to me, it's like, "Dude, I dare you to make a record that anyone wants to buy.” It's like a miracle. If anyone actually goes to the store to pay money for anything that I made, that's a huge deal. You just can't take that lightly.

Well, there's so much image in music. People who listen to drum 'n' bass dress a certain way and people who listen to hip-hop dress another way. Same goes for Phish lovers. Music that appeals to not only hippies, but also yuppies, is really rare.

Older people loved it. It wasn't some gimmick that was aimed at some specific generation or age group. There was nothing but good that came out of that. Except when the band broke up, and that sucked. But now we're doing it again, and everything is working out. And I'm loving being in Long Beach, because LA vanity bums me out. It stands for all the things I don't like in the music industry. Even if you're really smart, you can start to lose it if you live there. I get a bad energy from LA. I like nice things too, but that's all that counts there. I like living away from it all, and I have enough interests for a couple people, so I'm never bored. I usually don't ever want to leave, to be honest with you.

You used to play out more...?

Well, yeah, but I'm 36. I don't want to be on the road. I'm not as into being in a nightclub any more. When you're 26 you're all about it, and it's exciting and new.

Later, my friend and LA photographer savant, Marc Goldstein, snaps photos of Andreas on his spine-slatted stairwell as the Westward afternoon light streams in. Marc arbitrarily asks him, “Andreas, if you could live in anyone else’s body for six months, whose would it be?” To which he replies, after long deliberation, “Kinda like, just, me.” I laugh and mock in a self-satisfied tone, “Yeah, I’d just be myself.”

He says, “I have it pretty easy, so… I just like looking at people from the outside. I don’t really want to be anyone else.” I query, “Wouldn’t you want to be a girl? Like Pamela Anderson or something?” He laughs, “No… it’s scary. I have a twin sister…. No, maybe I would want to be a girl sometime, just to check it out.” I say, “Wouldn’t you want to know what it’s like having sex as a girl?” He laughs, “Nooooo… I like just knowing what I know.”

Check Greyboy's Myspace or the Ubiquity Records site for more on Greyboy.

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This article originally posted in TheBlacklistMag.com, which is sadly no longer in the cyber-realm.