Lost & Found
No man is an island, unless you happen to be RJD2
Next time you need to broach an awkward subject with someone, start off with some small talk about Lost. Every conversation ultimately ends in commiseration, because, c’mon—WTF? And if you happen to be talking to Ramble John “RJ” Krohn, the 31-year-old hip-hop producer known as RJD2 (and a devoted follower of ABC’s sci-fi serial), it’s not a bad way to preface a question that he’s probably really sick of hearing: What the heck was that last album all about?
It wasn’t a sucker punch like the kind that might be found in your average Lost storyline, but it did feel a bit sneaky, softening Krohn up with a friend’s concise assessment of the show—“a continuous ass-raping”—and listening attentively to his theories. The clock was ticking, though, so I finally just dropped the only question I’d even written down: “It’s been a year since The Third Hand came out. You’ve had some time to reflect. What do you think of it now?”
What followed was an organic, insightful conversation, and I recorded every minute of it. Then, when I went to transcribe, the file was nowhere to be found. Go ahead and roll your eyes at the irony. I interview a guy who relies on technology to make his music, and technology soundly defeats me. What a plot twist!
But all is not lost. I still remember very clearly the spirit of the conversation. I asked my question about The Third Hand as both a curious critic and a disappointed fan. By the end of our chat, I had a much better understanding of Krohn’s need to advance his creative process. The Third Hand will never be my favorite, but to paraphrase RJD2: If he makes a bunch of albums and I really like a couple of them, isn’t that still something?
Indeed.
Let me back it up a little and introduce you, Lost flashback-style, in case you don’t know who this hip-hop kid from Oregon is. RJD2’s debut album on Def Jux, 2002’s Deadringer, is an underground hip-hop classic and a mostly instrumental descendent of DJ Shadow’s Endtroducing.
Krohn sampled everything from Scooby-Doo to Elliott Smith and Brian Eno, painstakingly building gritty pastiches of sick riffs and beats from dusted-off blues, jazz, funk—you name it. He spent endless hours listening to old vinyl, mining for bits and pieces to transform with turntable and laptop-dork wizardry. It was like listening to analog and digital copulate.
It didn’t blow my mind quite like Endtroducing—that album was so epic and ahead of its time. But it came close.
Dead Ringer was a tour-de-force addition to the genre and RJD2 was heralded as the new white-boy wunderkind of hip-hop. He produced tracks for independent rappers like MF DOOM and Aceyalone, and his tracks were picked up for TV commercials, movies, video games—even as the theme song for a pro soccer team.
Two years later, RJD2 dropped Since We Last Spoke. Krohn moved away from the dark Shadow-esque soundscapes and let his inner indie-rocker come out to play with synths, guitars and his own vocals. It was a solid enough sophomore effort, but, like Shadow’s The Private Press, it paled in comparison to its predecessor. My five-word review: Dude, bring back those beats.
No such luck. The Third Hand, his latest, is an electronica-inflected pop album more than anything, which makes sense since RJD2 ditched Def Jux and signed a three-album contract with XL Recordings (home to bands like Vampire Weekend and Radiohead).
Krohn sings on most of the tracks, and the lyrics have a wussy indie-rock bent. When I first heard it, I couldn’t believe that it was RJD2. Neither could a lot of critics, apparently. He caught mad flak.
Krohn told me he never reads his reviews but that he’d heard from people—usually other interviewers like me—that he’d gotten some negative ones. I think he knows that he’s no longer the boy wonder du jour, though. There’s even a post on his MySpace page entreating visitors to nominate him for a MTV2 Subterranean award. “Help me win something,” he writes. “I haven’t won shit in years!”
But that, I realized, is funny. Krohn is funny. He’s got a sense of humor about his career, and he defends his explorations without getting defensive.
He went to a technical school for music, he tells me, so it’s really natural that he’d want to do more with live instruments. He says that once he’s finished an album, he’s done with it—doesn’t want to listen to it or think about it. He also points out that if he kept capitalizing on Deadringer—if his follow-ups were just variations on his initial success—he’d be a total sell-out.
Looking back on the title of Since We Last Spoke, I realize what Krohn was saying: “That’s who I was then; this is who I am now.” Same thing with The Third Hand. Maybe if I’d listened to either of those albums not knowing they were by the creator of Deadringer, I would’ve given them a fairer shake. And word is his live shows—now, with a full band—are doper than ever, which is more than I can say for almost any guy behind a pair of turntables.
At the beginning of our conversation, I’d told Krohn that I’d almost given up on Lost during the third season. It was so convoluted, I said, and seemed to be straying from whatever formula had made it so damn watchable. But then I just stopped thinking about it and, sure enough, I got sucked right back in.
The next time RJD2 comes up in my iPod queue, I’m gonna do the same thing.
RJD2 performs at 9 p.m. Tuesday, April 8, with Dalek and The Happy Chichester at The Casbah. 619-232-HELL. www.myspace.com/rjd2
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Published: 03/31/2008
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