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sinceileftyoublog · 2 years ago

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FaltyDL Interview: A Conversation With Myself

BY JORDAN MAINZER

At a time when playing club music was untenable, Drew Lustman was halfway out the door anyway. The New York-based producer and electronic musician, known as FaltyDL, had been making great house and garage-inspired electronic music for over a decade, including his 2016 career best Heaven Is for Quitters. Increasingly, even as his audience grew, he grew out of the dance music world, his creative expressions more introspective as he wished to connect with people as individuals rather than crowds as collectives. Stints writing with Mykki Blanco helped Lustman step outside of his comfort zone and find his voice as an auteur, and watching Blanco collaborate with other artists helped subside a lot of Lustman’s fears of reaching out to musicians he admired. Ultimately, when clubs closed, it was the final straw rather than the instigator: Lustman was ready to start again, from almost quitting music to reinventing himself. The result is A Nurse to My Patience, released earlier last month on his imprint Blueberry Records.

While A Nurse to My Patience is notable in the music world in general for being chock full of some of the finest experimental and rock musicians of the past twenty years, it’s even more notable within FaltyDL’s catalog itself. That is, it’s the first time Lustman has written lyrics and sung on record. He therapeutically reflects on his club-centered anxiety on “Berlin”, describing the false highs (“In my mind I feel like a king”) and the comedowns (“Now I’m feeling nothing / Stretched out like a starfish on a bed”). The video of first single “Four Horses” shows Lustman at different stages of his career, reflecting on his own mortality, singing gently around sinewy guitar lines. Julianna Barwick provides elegiac background vocals, as if an omniscient narrator to Lustman’s life. “A Vow” sees all of his insecurities rise to the surface, while “One Way Or Another” is warm collaboration with Blanco, this time on a FaltyDL record. Add in Medicine’s Brad Laner on the squealing electric guitar noise jam “XTOC”, Interpol’s Paul Banks on the sprechgesang techno of “Come See Us”, Gang Gang Dance’s Brian DeGraw on the wincing “Doves Fears”, and Hot Chip’s Joe Goddard on new wave anthem “God Light”, and you’ve got one of the most varied records of the year, let alone in FaltyDL’s already deep catalog.

Earlier this year, I spoke with Lustman over the phone from his home studio in Bed-Stuy in Brooklyn, the very place where he made A Nurse to My Patience. Though he’s immensely proud of the record, he always sports a sense of perspective, which at worst can come in the form of admitted navel-gazing self-doubt but at best contemplation on the impact his music has. “I’m constantly having a conversation with myself about the art I’m making, whether it’s good, and why I’m making it,” Lustman said.

Read the rest of our conversation below, edited for length and clarity.

Since I Left You: The pandemic catalyzed your exit from the club world, but what about the dance scene was grinding your gears?

Drew Lustman: That’s a good way to put it. It’s a huge question I don’t have definitive answers to because I don’t want to close the door on club music in my life. I want to make more of it and get inspired by it from time to time. But I wasn’t having fun touring and traveling, and I stopped listening to club music quickly in succession with that, and then I stopped making it as much. I’m of two minds about being in clubs, unless I really want to be there. I feel kind of awkward being there--it’s just sort of a job. I also didn’t like the way DJing was going in general, with all of the focus on the DJ, everyone on the dance floor just sort of staring at the DJ, and I’m just playing songs back to back. It felt like it was stroking my ego in a way I didn’t want or feared in the end. I have a lot of friends who are very successful DJs, and I find myself looking at them and thinking, “Oh, that would be dope if I got back into touring and built it up like they did.” But it feels weird.

It’s carried into even this [material.] I don’t plan on performing this album at all. Sometimes, I finish a performance and DJ set and feel so good, but I ultimately crash the next day. I’m totally sober when I’m DJing and the next day, but I don’t feel fulfilled by it. It takes a certain time in your life or set of circumstances to really be down with that type of experience. I haven’t outgrown it, because I don’t think I’m above it, but I think I’ve sidestepped it. It doesn’t tickle me in the same way.

SILY: Around the 2010s, there was definitely a major shift from the DJ as a provider of experience to “star” DJs where it was less about dancing in a club around other people and more about watching the person playing the music.

DL: Yeah. I don’t want to speak for anyone else and say it doesn’t have its place. Clearly, it works. It’s so popular and has such a huge ecosystem that seems to only be growing. It’s kind of one of the last self-sustaining musical models. Even bigger bands can’t make a living touring anymore. There are so many people involved, that at the end of the day, the take-home is very small, plus travel, and all that. The DJs you see that are very successful are also like unicorns: There’s not many you see on that level. I remember doing a lot of tours when I first started that looked great and were super fun, and I’d come home and would be at a loss. My cellphone bill would clear me out. I hope it’s there when I want to return to it in a positive way, but it’s not doing it for me right now.

SILY: So would you say A Nurse to My Patience is a headphones record?

DL: Yeah, for sure. In one way, because it won’t be performed live, but if I can extend “headphones” to any sort of home listening, then yes. I did make it on really big monitors and bump it loud when I play it in the car. I think my music was always this solo trip, to be enjoyed by yourself in a way, not excluding any sort of communal club experience. I do hope that people put it on and form some sort of personal relationship with it and it helps them in some way that can only really be done on your own.

SILY: At what point did you decide to try your hand at writing lyrics and recording yourself singing?

DL: Working with Mykki was really encouraging. This figure entered my life, and we started recording music together. Before we even knew each other well, there was this level of comfort that was set in the studio where Mykki would take on these various characters and sing in various ways. It was very freeing to feel like I could be different versions of myself, too, at various moments. By the time I decided to try singing on one of the tracks--I was thinking, if I could do every other aspect of the song, from writing and creating to mixing and producing--it would be cool if I could sing on it, too. These lyrics poured out of me. I developed my own techniques to try to get my voice to sound good, because I’m not really a trained singer, either.

SILY: Had you ever written lyrics or sung before, independent of whether it was recorded?

DL: Not so much, but I was helping Mykki write some of the hooks and a few lyrics and suggesting things. Just seeing that process firsthand demystified a bit of it for me. Also, they make it look so easy because they’re very good at it and have been writing poetry and singing for such a long time. What it takes for me to try anything is to see someone do it in a way it doesn’t seem like a struggle.

SILY: At what point did you decide to involve Mykki and all of these collaborators in your songs?

DL: There’s a good story for each one. Mykki was easy--we had already made upwards of 30 songs together, so I just texted them. The way Mykki was rapping on my track, we were in New York, wrapping things up, making a radio edit of one of the songs from last year’s record. I started getting really tired, and Mykki was like, “Drew, I’m only here for one more hour, what do you want to do?” So I played a song from the album, and Mykki was like, “That’s it!” They wrote the lyrics right there and rapped it, and it was done in an hour.

Brad Laner was someone I’ve been listening to for a very long time. He’s released music on Planet Mu under a couple different names, and so did I. That label has an ecosystem where you can reach out to others that have had a similar experience and talk about what it’s like being there. It was very easy to reach out to Brad--we started collaborating over the pandemic. I’d send stems over, and Brad would send back a whole bunch of guitar and synth parts. We have a whole lot more we’re working on--hopefully there’s a whole project between the two of us.

Julianna Barwick, I just cold-emailed her. She got back really enthusiastic and recorded a bunch on two tracks. I couldn’t decide which one I liked more, so I included both of them on the album.

Paul Banks, I reached out to through management, and he was the first big feature to come in. I’ve been sitting on "Come See Us” for a good two years, now. His vocals were in my inbox two weeks after we reached out. I think the stars aligned: Paul was probably home during the pandemic, between recording stuff for Interpol and Muzz, that the timing was right. I thought, “I’ve got Paul Banks on the album, I’m doing something right.”

Joe Goddard, I also reached out to through management, and he responded really positively. We’ve had a few correspondences in the past here and there, having remixed similar artists and shared sides of a 12". I’ve been a fan of Hot Chip and Joe’s solo stuff. A couple things he’s done have really resonated with me over the years. The label Joe was helping run, Greco-Roman, they were a fan of mine, so my name was rolling around the office there. They had my records up on the wall.

These songs took their time, but it was cool because nobody was going anywhere, and after a couple months, I had all these parts. I sang the bridge on Joe’s track, “God Light”. It was like a little duet with Joe.

Brian DeGraw is another New York musician with notoriety, from Gang Gang Dance to his own beautiful solo work and painting. A truly multi-disciplinary artist. Bryan remixed me years ago on my Hardcourage album. He’s also helped me with some video work over the years. I just hit him up! We were both home and able to send stems back and forth quickly. Because he’s in New York, I’d love to do a lot more work with him.

So it was a mix of cold-calling people and contact people through management. There were folks I reached out to that said no or didn’t respond. I’m no stranger to hearing no or getting no response, so I thought, “Let’s just go out another circle. Who else is available?”

SILY: I can’t imagine “Come See Us” without Paul’s voice. It’s so unmistakable and fits the music very well. Same with “God Light” and Joe. That sort of drum machine-laden, new wave/post-punk with the bass and guitar and his British accent, it sounds like a song from the 80s. Did you have these collaborators in mind for those specific tracks, or did you want to work with them no matter what?

DL: I sent a few tracks at a time and let them pick the ones they liked the most. When I was making the tracks and thought, “This could use a vocal,” then the names started floating around. The only way I’ve been able to make music, whether for myself or someone else, is to start the song as if it’s just for me. It’s kind of selfish, but it’s the only way I can stay focused and give it my all and not cut corners. I’m making it as closed, for myself, following some sort of compass. As it shakes out, I think, “Could I involve someone else or invite someone else on?” That’s kind of new, to be honest. My music was always a solo thing.

SILY: A song like “A Vow” has just you on it. Is that a more personal song?

DL: The songs “A Vow” or “Berlin” both have very straightforward meanings. “Berlin” is about going on tour, becoming someone else, feeling anxious, and being in Berlin and how that’s always made me kind of anxious for various reasons. “A Vow” is about how I feel about myself at my worst. I’m really beating myself up in that song: “I received a letter / Everyone thinks I’m a loser / It’s clear now / My place is in the rear now.” That’s the aging musician thinking they’ve had a really good run and that they can still make music but they have to take a new form. It’s not bad, it’s just how it goes. I was talking to someone the other day, and they said, “If you can get 10 years in music, that’s incredible.” Here I am, pushing my way through half of my second 10 years, and I agree with it, but you can keep going as long as you want. What you want out of it and what you can get out of it sort of changes.

SILY: The beat on “One Hitter” reminds me a lot of LCD Soundsystem’s “Losing My Edge”, whose themes are basically what you just said.

DL: Yeah. That was an influence. So was a Caribou track. I thought I always liked LCD a lot, maybe it was a little...

SILY: Too on the nose?

DL: Well, at the time it came out, I was into harder things like jungle and drum and bass, so I found most pop and rock a little too clean. But the energy is sort of similar, and the rhythm is definitely a “Losing My Edge” rhythm.

SILY: What about touring made you dislike it so much?

DL: I didn’t like it for a very long time. I toured my ass off from 2009-2015. I did about 150 gigs, went to Europe 10 times a year, went to Asia, South America, really got all over the place. As I settled in, got a bit older, got into a relationship, and had a kid on the way, life changed in various ways where I didn’t want to be away. I did start to develop some separation anxiety where it got harder. I was playing bigger rooms to more people and bigger fees, but I was getting more and more anxious traveling and leaving. It’s like I have a little PTS from touring, but there was no singular traumatic event. Over the years, I started feeling, “This isn’t what I want to do, but I’m going to keep doing it because it is what I do.” I built the skillset, but staying and doing something I didn’t want to do caused it to become this grating thing. I’m having to figure out other ways to make a living, which is fine because I want to grow as a person and acquire new skills.

SILY: Who sings on “Zoo Jarre”?

DL: I’m singing the vocals, but all of the [mimics laughter] is my girlfriend. I recorded her having a conversation and pitched it up and changed the decay and the sustain so it’s all chopped up and percussive. I put a phaser on it and stereo expander, all this stuff to make it sound that way. It’s a nod to Jean-Michel Jarre’s Zoolook where he does some really awesome vocal manipulation.

SILY: On “Play A Little Rough With Me”, you’re basically rapping. Is that something you learned from working with Mykki?

DL: [laughs] It’s funny, I listened to my cadence at some point and thought it definitely sounded like I was rapping. I don’t want to say that it’s rapping. It’s more like talk-singing in a Frank Zappa way. But it’s fair to say I’m rapping. I do not view myself as a rapper. I had written a lot of songs where I wrote a verse and repeated one hook, and I thought, “Let me write two long verses.” They’re mirror images of each other; one is a mirror image of the other verse. That track almost didn’t make it. My girlfriend was saying, “It’s gotta go on!” It’s the one I feel the most self-conscious about.

SILY: Are you self-conscious about it for its themes or how it sounds? It’s a very intimate song.

DL: That’s funny. I feel like I’m being goofy there. I feel goofy singing, “Let’s grow old together and get a home” and then saying, “Come play a little rough with me and let’s not live together.” That’s sort of the two vibes. It’s totally fine--it’s not even about my relationship. But the vocal delivery makes me feel a little cringe. It all does. I can’t listen to this anymore.

SILY: Really?

DL: A little bit! I’ve been working on it for so long. I keep putting it on, 5 seconds of a track, and asking myself, “This is still good, right?” I then realize, “Yeah, it’s good, it’s good, it’s okay, it’s fine.” I’d rather get to work on the next thing.

SILY: Was this album something you just needed to get out of your system in order to make another pivot? Or is it the start of something new for you?

DL: I think it’s the start of something new. I have the outline of what could be a follow-up record next year, with a couple remixes of these tracks and some new stuff in a similar frame. I’m moving towards a King Crimson-esque, heavier rock sound at the moment. I was just looking at violins on Craigslist. I want to get a violin, prepare it, and play it. I’m paring back my music more and more to the point where my next album could be ambient. Once I got out of the club circuit, I became okay with the fact that if I don’t release club music, I won’t get DJ gigs. Now that I’m becoming okay with that, I have less ego involved and can do whatever I want musically. In the club world, you’re only as good as the last record you’ve released. You can release a bangin’ 12" and tour on it forever, but if you then release something that’s not as good, it might affect your bookings. I assume that’s the same way with everything. But if you don’t care about bookings, you’re so free. You can do whatever you want. If you’re constantly reintroducing yourself, it can be hard for the press to connect the dots. That’s the gamble. But my favorite artists are always taking different turns here and there.

SILY: What’s the meaning behind the record title?

DL: Two things. It’s a line from a Fanny Howe poem. She’s listing a whole bunch of things, and it’s one of the things she lists. I read it during the pandemic and really connected with it. One of the reasons this album took so long is I started taking a little advice from folks that I should wait for the Mykki music to come out, and then my music afterwards, and it was very music industry, business-oriented advice. It was the antithesis of my artistic inclinations, which is to make stuff and release it so I can make more stuff and release that. I needed this thing to keep me busy, and the album became a nurse to my patience. It was this thing I would dive into. If I wasn’t going to see Mykki for a month or two, I needed something else to get my mind off that.

SILY: What’s the story behind the cover art?

DL: I did a photo session with James Hartley for some photos for the Studio Barnhus EP. We got along so well, I wanted to work together again. I thought if I was making a rock record, I’ve always loved classic rock albums that have the artist on the cover. You don’t see it as much in electronic music. I really wanted to be on the cover with a guitar in some way. We did this whole photoshoot and did these double exposures. When the cover photo was taken, when the guitar slides left and right around my head, we saw it quickly and knew it right away. As it was, it was a little throwback and needed more, so I took it to my friend Scot Bendall from the design house La Boca, who has done a bunch of my covers in the past. I asked for some type around it, and they came back quickly with this cut-out idea of the photo with lettering on top. They’ll always show me 10 options, and each is incredible and really hard to choose from, and each one is improved upon a week later, and it keeps going until one stands out.

SILY: How long have you been playing the various instruments you play on this record?

DL: There’s been one or two samples of me playing instruments on songs in the past that I treat as more like found sound. This is more deliberate playing. Bass and guitar, I started when I was around 11 or 12. Piano, here and there. During the pandemic, I went back to my dad’s house and raided his basement where I have a bunch of my instruments. Once I built this studio, I wanted to get stuff I had in storage in his house. I brought back three basses, and electric guitar, and a full speaker stack. I had my piano already that I’ve been paying on installments. I just started playing these instruments every single day. My callouses came back. Muscle memory is incredible--I hadn’t played guitar in years but I was fine doing all these scales and things I was doing back when I was playing as a kid. The callouses are subcutaneous again, and I feel legit. I feel more comfortable on a bass than on a synthesizer at this point.

SILY: Anything you’ve been listening to, reading, or watching that’s caught your attention?

DL: I just watched The Bear on Hulu and Nope, which is incredible. My favorite Jordan Peele film so far. Fantastic movie making. The soundtrack is almost this classic Western, Indiana Jones-esque sound, but updated.

I’m not listening to a whole lot of stuff because I’m trying to make a lot of music right now.

SILY: Do you not want to be steered a certain way by outside listening when you’re actively making music?

DL: I’m becoming a bad artist in that I’m loosening my grip in the time I spend creating and becoming more of a consumer. I give this advice to young artists all the time. Turn your phone off, don’t look at Twitter when you’re making music. Only have your software open. I’m not listening to that advice anymore, maybe because I’m in this moment where I’m releasing this record and have to switch my brain from creative mode to explaining mode. I hope to get back on track in a good rhythm; if I don’t make a song in a while, I start to feel crummy. It starts to affect every aspect of my life. It’s like a steam release valve. I have to prove to myself I can do it. It’s perverse, because clearly, I’ve done it many times, but it doesn’t matter how many times, because if I can’t do it again, I’ve lost it. It’s a little bit like torturing myself.

SILY: Were you always planning on releasing this record on your own label, or did you pitch it to other labels?

DL: I did pitch it to a few and got very far with a couple labels. But if I’m unwilling to tour and do some of the things other labels want you to do--and we didn’t even get that far--I thought I’d upset the folks who’d spend a bunch of money and time and see me only promote it in ways I feel comfortable with. I hope it would be successful on its own, and maybe I was shooting myself in the foot before discovering whether they’d liked it. There’s always a part of me that fantasizes about being signed again to a label. I’ve had good experiences on labels. It’s amazing having a huge team doing a worldwide press push like on my Ninja Tune albums. But I’ve got a great distributor, a good publisher, a friend that helps who is a paid intern, and revolving artists I work with. It’s basically a team. I could use one or two more dedicated people, but I’d have to pay them a salary, and I don’t have that money.

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