DLT interview (2000)

DLT: Doin' It For the Kids

by Jennifer Scott, NZ Musician, April/May 2000, vol8 no 8

ALTRUISM: 1. the principle or practice of unselfish concern for the welfare of others. 2. the philosophical doctrine that right action is that which produces the greatest effect to others. - Collins English Dictionary.

When talking to Daryl Thomson, aka DLT, it is clear that he views the world in terms that are distinctly black and white: there's good and there's evil; there's right and there's wrong; there's Altruism - the title of his new album - and there's egoism.

When it comes to music, if it's not formed from a basis of goodness, honesty, and yes, altruism, then for Daryl it's just not relevant.

It is these strong convictions which are the driving force behind DLT's work, and as the 1996 single Chains and his debut solo album ‘The True School' proved, hip hop can be all of these things - and popular too.

It's a pity John Dix's book on New Zealand music, ‘Stranded in Paradise' ends in 1988. It narrowly misses the genesis of a new wave of New Zealand music when a group of young Maori boys from Wellington took a traditionally American form of music, injected it with passion, spirituality and something uniquely Aotearoa. It would be interesting in ensuing chapters to trace the progress of these boys - Upper Hutt Posse - on the music scene in New Zealand as they kicked and clawed their way into an industry which was, and still is, predominantly rock and pop - and white.

In the years since UHP, Daryl has found a way to work within the local music industry - with his eyes wide open and his bullshit detector turned to 11.

"I'm here because I don't sleep on reality. I'm here because I don't sleep at all! It's a 24 hour a day struggle to just goddamn survive in this country."

But survive he has. Following Joint Force, a collaboration with MC OJ and Rhythm Slave, and working with the Stylee Crew/37 Degrees collective, Daryl was signed to BMG NZ as a solo artist. He is one of the only local acts to remain signed to the label which recently dropped Che Fu and has a publishing deal with BMG International. Being signed to a major label doesn't mean a major budget and Daryl is proud that ‘Altruism' - international contributors and all - came out of a house in suburban Auckland. So how does a track made in Grey Lynn get to New York?

"My publisher basically said I could have a look at the catalogue of artists that his company has and they would be more contactable than the dream list that I had. I had a list of 10 of my favourite artists, and the list of artists that are on the album - they're not the same list! But as I got on into it I realised that whether it was my 10 faves or 10 people that weren't my faves, it doesn't matter. I kinda like to prove to the non-believers that we can do a lot of different things, and I want to tell the young people who live here that it can be done from a bedroom in Grey Lynn. It's not just Chris Knox over there, there's other bedrooms in Grey Lynn that rock all around the world, like we've done. 

"We've done demos in that bedroom, burnt instrumentals onto CD, sent it overseas, got those CDs back into the bedroom from overseas, put it onto an ADAT, played it back into a computer, mixed and mastered it ready to go on the radio - all out of that room. The set up we use, I don't know what it's worth but it's probably under 50 grand - people's cars are worth more than that studio!"

The ‘bedroom' studio (actually just a room in a house - there's no bed!) belongs to engineer Nick Roughan. Daryl and Nick first worked together on UHP's debut single E Tu in Wellington in 1988. While Nick's background is in rock (he was a member of experimental/industrial Flying Nun band The Skeptics) and Daryl was a hip hopper, the two found they shared a disregard for musical rules.

"I started working with digital stuff and samplers in the mid-'80s doing freaky stuff with rock music with The Skeptics, which was a band that did not take convention seriously. While we come from different musical backgrounds we always knew we had a lot in common," says Nick.

On ‘Altruism' they have finally had the opportunity to explore that common ground with help on some tracks by Kevin Rangihunga. As producer, Daryl's main role is to drive the songs, shape them and bring the right ‘feel' into the studio.

"All I use is my ears, records and my ideas. My main tool is lying on the couch smoking! It's my creative ability - that's what I take to the studio. I'm not a tech-head, I hate samplers and stuff. Still, I have to know what the studio is capable of so I can tell the engineer what to do. I drive the process.

"It starts with a feeling I guess. I will draw back into a memory bank and remember the good feelings and the good sounds. I remember great moments through meditation and being poor and hungry and not able to move, not able to think in the modern world - you have to start from really humble places sometimes. That's my best draw, trying to remember discos when I was young and ‘What was that song I used to love? It had a cowbell in it'."

Nick says songs have grown from the two of them sitting down for half a day and listening to records. From that they might pick up a drum loop they like, mull it over and songs stem from that. "Sometimes we might use the loop, sometimes we replace it. It might get the juices flowing and then we might do a rough mix, chew it over for a wee while and at that stage it is sent overseas for the vocalist to add their vocals."
The vocalists used on ‘Altruism' range from New Yorkers Gravity on I'm Your MC, African Shabam Sahdeeq on Worldwide to local voices such as Kendall from Losttribe on Commonwealth Daryl says they all share his vision, giving the album a cohesive sound.

"I let them know what the kaupapa of the album is about, that is, where I'm heading mentally. It's got nothing to do with their songwriting, it's about the kaupapa of the whole thing, not just about the melodic arrangements or the words used. I basically gave them a brief background about myself and what I like and that's it. It's left open to interpretation."

So considering that he was working with people from other continents, was it easy to get songs back that fit this vision?

"It's kind of simple, you just take what you're given! We can't afford to pay the $30,000 a track to get Puffy on the album, you know what I mean. It's a different ballgame. I'd like to get one song back that worked so to get nine, 10, 11 back - that's a bonus."

The collaborations also mean that if Daryl ventures overseas, he is likely to find more doors open to him, but doesn't expect to become an international superstar.

"I'd like it to sell overseas, and there is definitely a work reason for these people being from these different territories and different languages and stuff, and that is to help it overseas. Basically if you help the kaupapa then the kaupapa will help you.

"The only thing I want to take overseas is my bank account and my babies. I want to live! It's not ‘I want to party, rock'n' roll man', it's none of that shit. I just want to be able to go to different countries and meet people with the same ideology."

Daryl says the key to creating a track that works is not just trying to please the ear but also the heart.
"It's really simple to add spirituality to the material world, it's a very simple process but it only works on faith. So the thing you do, you convince their heart, by the EQs you use, the sounds, the placement, the rhythms, everything. It allows you to go beyond the bounds of their material brick walls of young pretty girls and slick little angelic boys and stuff like that."

While a look at the top 20 and the "young pretty girls" and "slick angelic boys" who dominate it can be disheartening, it is not beyond reach he believes.

"Look, Chains had no titty shots, Chains had no making love to cameras, nothing false. The music got people's hearts. That's the power."

Daryl aims to lead by example. He is well aware of his role model status for young Maori and says he has maintained a musical career through sheer discipline and a drive to make the world a better place for his children. (He has a nine-year-old son Reegan and seven-year-old daughter Arnia.)

"It's my trying to be a good father that controls my music. I was making dad music before I was a dad!"
Hip hop in New Zealand is always bubbling under the surface and although some inroads have been made in recent years, it remains apart from the mainstream. While Che Fu's album went platinum (15,000 plus copies sold), rock albums by Stellar and The Feelers have sold four times as many copies, due in part to their slotting more easily into commercial radio formats. King Kapisi's Silver Scroll win could have been a sign of hip hop being more accepted into the mainstream, but Daryl says it does not even scratch the surface.

"Look, I won three awards in one year and got not one cover of a shitty magazine after that, no endorsement, nothing! The industry is run by a bunch of rats.

"All hip hoppers in this country are killing each other to grab the crumbs that the redneck paedophiles leave on the table. There's no major budget for King Kapisi, he's signed to Festival. I know 11, 12 maybe more good hip hop acts around the country who deserve half a chance but they will never get a chance because they're not 14-year-old white females."

While Daryl can let the vitriol fly, he is keen to emphasise that his anger at the industry is not something that keeps him awake nights.

"I don't carry it with me. The reality is if you are going to be creative and spread healing through art then little devils just can't stop you. They might control the country and the industry but they can't control your ability to create."

And as for the accusation often levelled that hip hop isn't ‘real' music: "I still can't read a note of music. The other day I was on Waiheke Island with one of my mates who was tuning his guitar and he goes ‘Bro, bro give me an E on the piano" and I'm like ‘What? Is that a black one or a white one?'. The rules of making music in hip hop is there are no rules. I've been dissed like that, ‘Oh, he's singing in C major with a bass line in C minor, oh what an idiot.'. All I can say is ‘poor dudes'."

Poor dudes indeed. As the catchline of The Altruist says: ‘Wake up!'