Photo by Jeff Broadway
Dâm-Funk & Snoopzilla: "Faden Away" on SoundCloud.
If you’re truly blessed, you might one day love a piece of music as purely as Snoop Dogg loves “Hit the Pavement”, the first song he recorded with multi-instrumentalist/producer/walking Holy Mothership Dâmon Riddick, aka Dâm-Funk. As a dozen or so people file into L.A.'s Conway Studios for an impromptu listening party for the duo's self-titled EP as 7 Days of Funk—due out December 10 on Stones Throw—the track is playing at a punishing volume. In fact, it's not even the whole song, just the hook. Across 10 minutes, it repeats at least 100 times without a single protest, or even an acknowledgment that this endless rewind might be abnormal. Snoop’s pantomiming every one of his lyrics like it’s a video shoot, even though it’s just for a handful of associates with iPhones.
Granted, the hip-hop legend—who's going by Snoopzilla for this project—is a professional and knows there’s a performative aspect to even the most casual event, but this is clearly a passion project for both parties. No matter how many joints get passed during 7 Days of Funk's half-hour runtime, the strongest shit couldn’t convince these two that an independently-released EP is going to make them rich or get them moreradio play than, say, "Drop It Like It's Hot". Especially when, as Dâm points out, “It's a funk record. We'll say it's hip-hop, too, but we made a funk record.”
Make no mistake, this was a listening party befitting a funk record—West Coast O.G. producer Battlecat mans the mixing console, and about 15 minutes in, four very tall (and barely dressed) women drop by to give Snoop a hug and promptly head to the recording room on other side of the glass. (Very few people seem to know who they are, exactly.) Studio interns and crew members alike help themselves to fried catfish and shrimp while getting a glimpse at platinum plaques—Billy Idol's Charmed Life, Guns N' Roses' The Spaghetti Incident?—that remind you of the since-fizzled artists who would typically frequent this studio when Snoop was getting his start in the music industry in the early 1990s. (The napkin dispenser is also emblazoned with the front of GN'R's regrettable covers album.)
The complimentary coconut vodka and rosé is served in styrofoam cups with Snoop’s face on them, and Dâm can't help but acknowledge that he’s working with a superstarwho just so happened to be born in the same year as him, 1971. “He really made an impact on me and the circle of people who I grew up with,” explains Dâm. “We finally heard somebody who was like us—not like LL, not like Eric B. & Rakim—someone who had the same speech, the same walk, the same style.”
While Dâm hasn’t slowed down one bit, having emptied his archives on 2010's Adolescent Funk and teamed up with respected funk figure Steve Arrington on this year’s Higher, his 2009 opus Toeachizown still hasn’t gotten a proper follow-up. 7 Days of Funk was prioritized over his upcoming LP, but he says it'll drop next year, and that he’ll once again be working with Ariel Pink after guesting on the weirdo-pop guru's 2012 album Mature Themes. "People can ride to it, they can bang to it, they can roll down the street to it," says Dâm, talking about an upcoming Pink collaboration, "but it's still atmospheric, and Ariel fell right in.”
With 7 Days of Funk finally mastered, Snoop and Dâm aligned their schedules last Friday afternoon to talk about their uncanny musical connection, what hip-hop owes to funk, and the deeper meaning behind Snoop's latest moniker.
"I don't give a fuck about radio, never have. We focus on the emotion. It ain't about selling, it's about a feeling." — Snoop Dogg
Pitchfork: Snoop, you're credited on this album as Snoopzilla rather than Snoop Dogg, does that indicate a different creative approach?
Snoop Dogg: When I'm recording as Snoopzilla, I'm basically an offspring of Bootsy [Collins]. We're keeping that spirit alive with that tone, that delivery, that R&B/funk singing, like Rick James and Steve Arrington. And on this EP, I was on some relationship shit: being tired of the one that I'm with and trying to be with the one that I'm with—shit where I'm questioning the one that I love. I'm not even talking about nobody personally. Is it music? Is it my wife? I'm questioning something! I don't even know what the fuck it is. As time goes by, I get a clearer vision on why I'm saying what I said, because some of these songs are really affecting me right now emotionally. They were just songs I did out of the spirit of having fun, but when I write shit, it comes to motherfucking life.
Dâm-Funk: It's the force. We plugged into it. He wrote what I was going through. I didn't even have to tell him! Even my lady was like, "Man, does he know you're the same type of cat?" I was like, "Yeah, I think he knows."
Pitchfork: Do you feel like the funk influences on this record no longer have a place in contemporary hip-hop?
SD: Hip-hop draws a lot from funk, but it never gives credit to funk, so a lot of these youngsters don't understand it because it's never been broken down for them. It's our duty to make some shit like this and let them know that's where they get their shit from.
Pitchfork: Do either of you have kids?
DF: I don't.
SD: Yeah, I got kids: 19, 16, and 14.
Pitchfork: What are they listening to right now?
SD: My daughter is listening to all that white shit like—what's her name?—Taylor Swift, and all that other bullshit. My oldest son is a hippie, so he's listening to Bob Marley and Peter Tosh. He's real deep into this music. He's cut from another cloth. My young son is into that rap shit, that hip “right now” shit.
Pitchfork: Do you ever try to educate them on funk?
SD: They've been hearing that shit their whole life. They've heard R&B, slow music. I don't play hip-hop because I make hip-hop, so to me it's boring to play it. I play it when I'm DJing or trying to get ready for a show, but for the most part, my stereo session has always been funk and R&B, because that's basically who I am.
DF: The G's that we knew—everybody that was before us—were the hardest ones and the most respected, but they listened to the kind of music we listen to. They wasn't really listening to a lot of hip-hop. I'm being careful not to discredit anything about hip-hop because we both grew up to Eric B. & Rakim and all that—bumpin' it in the Suzuki Samurais, the Nissan trucks. We was there. But the music template that existed with G's has always been stuff like the Isley Brothers, Blue Magic, and Stylistics, where it's lyrics and live musicians. There’s nothing weak or not-hard about that kind of music. It's about emotion and the way that the chorus makes you feel inside. That's what me and Snoop have a lot in common on.
Pitchfork: There’s elements of pop-funk in recent hits like “Blurred Lines” or “Get Lucky”—do you think 7 Days of Funk is more timely for radio right now?
DF: It wasn't a consideration with me.
SD: Yeah, I don't give a fuck about radio, never have. My radio is the streets. If niggas are driving down the street playing it and it's banging in the club, that beats the radio for me because the radio is so fraudulent. It follows what's going on as opposed to leading. Back when we came on, the radio used to break records and be the first one to play shit. Now, they listen to what's hot in Atlanta and then they make it hot wherever they at. That's a known fact. They go national with that shit. That is what it is and that's why we don't focus on radio. We focus on the emotion. It ain't about selling, it's about a feeling.
Photo by Eric Coleman
Pitchfork: Snoop, what about Dâm's beats stands out to you compared to other West Coast producers you’ve worked with like Battlecat or even Dr. Dre?
SD: Dâm's music gives me more of a R&B connection to work off of. His music made me feel like I could come up front and let me do a real R&B lead vocal thing.
Pitchfork: And Dâm, how do you tailor your beats for Snoop?
DF: I just think of the artist I'm with: I pay attention to their movements and how they are. I never try to conjure up anything on purpose. The vibe is there.
SD: That's real shit though. He made the beats in his house—in his room—and I recorded in my apartment, in a muthafuckin' closet right next to a bathroom. I could pee from the mic.
Pitchfork: How long did it take for you guys to put a song together?
DF: The energy was so explosive with “Hit The Pavement”—he came to the pad at 10 p.m. and we were done at midnight. He killed it. His work ethic is stupid, man. I've never seen anything like it. I was New York, in A1 [Record Shop] just listening to some records, and Snoop calls, like, "Hey man, you need to check this out, check your email." Four hours later I’m at the club, and he's like, "Hey man, check these out, two more done." He was just smashing them. When you're inspired by something, that's how you do it.
Pitchfork: When the two of you are working on an atypical project like this, whose opinion do you rely on to know if you’re going in the right direction?
SD: I test this shit when I'm DJing to get a real honest opinion. When they come on, people ain't gonna lie. If that shit jam, they gonna come to the booth and be like, "What the fuck is that?" That's the best natural reaction.
DF: When Battlecat rose up and turned around and said "I get it now!” that meant a lot.
Pitchfork: Were there any disagreements with people during the recording?
SD: The only time we had an issue was when it got to how we wanted this record to sound: We didn't want it to sound too clean. We didn't mind going back in and mixing it, but we didn't want too many additives and preservatives, because the shit was naturally smoky from the get-go. Me and Dâm cooked our shit. We got enough seasoning between the two of us.
Pitchfork: A huge part of the P-Funk experience was the live show, so do you see 7 Days of Funk as a touring act?
SD: Definitely. I already got a band in mind to get down with Dâm and go hard out there. Dâm was always a one-man band, and now we'll surround him with some bad motherfuckers who can get his back. It'll allow him to be able to do keytar and talkbox and turntables without juggling; when I see him, I'm like, "How does this nigga do all this by himself."
DF: It's definitely humbling for people to want to be involved. Even Tyler, the Creator wanted to get down on [the EP], but we just ran out of time.