Katy B and Jacques Greene: "Danger" on SoundCloud.
If there’s a single dominant archetype in media and art right now, it’s the flailing, recession-era millennial. We live in a culture infatuated, to an absurd degree, with jobless college graduates postponing their adulthood by living at home with their parents or struggling to make ends meet on a barista’s salary. But what happens when the wayward 20-somethings manage to actually settle into grown-up lives, complete with satisfying careers, apartment leases, and health insurance? It’s a question that Katy B, the 23-year-old UK vocalist born Kathleen Anne Brien, is trying to answer for herself on her forthcoming second album, due out in late spring.
Since her excellent 2011 debut On a Mission, which cemented the singer as a talented negotiator between niche UK dance scenes and pop, Katy has burrowed into the rhythms of adulthood. She’s been living on her own for the first time, taking cooking classes, and partying much less in recent months; we agree that there’s a strange and jolting moment when hangovers suddenly become debilitating, when a couch becomes the most appealing weekend option. It seems a bit silly, certainly, to pine for youth at 23, but the transitions are making Katy more emotional than she’d expected. And if her excellent late-2012 Danger EP is any indication, she should be able to translate her quarter-life unease into a subtle and seductive sound that transcends the dance floor.
"When I was 18, I’d be out four nights a week-- I want to have that energy again but I’ve found I’m a bit old and ready for retirement."
Pitchfork: Both On a Mission and the Danger EP do a great job of evoking the image of a nightclub that can be very forlorn. What inspired the lyrics to your new record?
Katy B: On a Mission has a certain innocence to it, but the new album has a lot of songs that I cry to-- songs that run really deep. I’ve gone through a lot of changes in the last couple of years and had a lot of realizations that come through on the album, too. There’s a song called "Take Me Back" about my best friend-- she sings on it, and I get very emotional listening to it.
Pitchfork: What’s that song about?
KB: I have these memories of my ex-boyfriend’s house, where my friends and I used to stay up all night and chat rubbish and draw weird pictures and stick them on this wall. There were all these young musicians coming in and out of there, playing the drums or singing their little hearts out. Now, I walk past the house and we’re not in that kind of place anymore-- especially me and my best friend. Everyone I know is moving out of their parents’ house, and getting jobs and real-world responsibilities. Things are getting a bit heavier. When I was 18 or 19, I’d be out four nights a week. I want to have that energy again but I’ve found I’m a bit old and ready for retirement.
There’s another song on the album called "Crying for No Reason" that’s inspired by a friend who recently had a breakdown. She was in her car at a traffic light and she just broke down crying. She and I spoke about it, and she realized she was so upset because she’d just gone through a breakup where she hadn’t had much empathy for her ex. She felt guilty about it, and I used that experience to write about my own guilt about certain things in my life.
"Destiny’s Child literally taught me how to sing."
Pitchfork: Are there any big sonic shifts this time around?
KB: I wanted to put more emphasis on songs this time around, rather than it just being one beat. I’m working with Geeneus, who produced quite a lot of On a Mission, again and I’ve worked with Diplo, Al Shux, and Fraser T Smith, who did [Adele's] "Set Fire to the Rain". I'm hopefully doing some more work with Jacques Greene and Joker as well.
Pitchfork: There’s a resurgence of early-2000s pop stars now-- Justin Timberlake, Destiny’s Child. Was that era influential to you?
KB: Oh my god, yes. When I was about 13 Justin Timberlake was touring the Justified album-- I went to go see him in Wembley and liked it so much I wanted to go back to see him again, so I queued at five in the morning to get tickets. I was obsessed with Justin.
And Destiny’s Child literally taught me how to sing. At one of my first-ever studio sessions, the producers were like, "What do you want to record?" I said I wanted to do my own version of "Say My Name". And then I literally couldn’t keep up with the verse-- I remember thinking, "Oh god, I need to step my game up."
Katy B: "Got Paid" [ft. Zinc and Wiley] on SoundCloud.
Pitchfork: As someone with dubstep roots, is it funny to hear a drop in a song like Taylor Swift’s "I Knew You Were Trouble"?
KB: It’s not so weird for me because dubstep has been big in the UK for years. I quite like that song, and as long as it’s done well, I’m fine with hearing a dubstep drop in any song.
Pitchfork: By the same token, does the mainstream appropriation of those sounds make you want to move further away from them in your own music?
KB: It does. The reason I started doing music like that in the first place was because it felt fresh and different. Whenever I’m making something, the challenge is always to create something that’s interesting for me to listen to. So when I hear the same formula being used over and over, I get bored. Just as huge pop artists have taken inspiration from things that are happening at the moment, I do the same with my music. But I’ve never really compared myself to anyone who’s a big star -- I’m not trying to be a fashion icon or get famous.
Katy B: "Aaliyah" [ft. Jessie Ware] on SoundCloud.
Pitchfork: How did you come up with the concept for "Aaliyah", your recent collaboration with Jessie Ware on your Danger EP?
KB: When I got the beat, in my imagination I was catapulted into this club where all the boys and girls are looking hot and wearing amazing clothes, and there’s this girl dancing and looking better than me. My boyfriend, who’s a character in the song, is a DJ and he’s going to this club every week to play for her. He wants to watch her dance. I love writing songs where the name is the title-- I looked on my iTunes and Aaliyah was at the top and I thought, "That’s perfect."
This girl I want people to imagine looks like Aaliyah and moves like Aaliyah and has her kind of aura. And I knew I wanted to do an EP of collaborations and thought it would be sick to get Jessie on this tune, so I tweeted at her. She came down to the studio on her day off-- I think her boyfriend wanted to kill me. I felt so lucky. She’s such a great girl.
Pitchfork: Do you see yourself as a representative for women in typically male-dominated, insular music scenes?
KB: I hope so. If there was a girl who wanted to be involved with this music and was intimidated by it, I hope she would see me and realize she could do it. I’d love for that to be true. But then, in a sense, when you’re surrounded by people, the gender lines become less important-- you think of yourself as a person rather than just a female. I’m excited about representing my gender, but at the same time it doesn't matter. I wouldn’t say my gender has been a disadvantage.