I believe in Bonjay.
Not only are they some of the most fiercely creative, humble, genuine and ridiculously talented artists reorganizing the borders and boundaries of dancehall today, but their forthcoming fall 2010 EP “Broughtupsy” is set to turn heads. As in, a lot of heads (think “global takeover” status). I got a chance to talk to Alanna and Pho from Bonjay about versatility, fake patois, making post-exorcism music, and dreams of a posthumous Arthur Russell collaboration. Also, if you haven’t already heard Broughtupsy’s fantastic kinetic spooky stomper “Stumble”, you should absolutely download it here.
Interview by Brendan Arnott (my text in bold).
How was life breathed into the idea of Bonjay? Talk a bit about your roots.
Pho: I grew up really into hip hop and that eventually led me to all the original weird soul and funk samples, dancehall, and bass music out of the UK. There used to be a show on TV here called “Xtendamix” that would play hip hop, R&B and dancehall videos. It was hosted by a guy called Master T who completely took the screwface out of those scenes – he was friendly on-camera, his co-host was a synthesizer, and he would sometimes host the show dressed as “his Scottish cousin McT” (he was black). Watching him inspired me to start deejaying because here was a laidback, intelligent guy who could joke around with all the biggest names in hip hop and dancehall and R&B. I figured if he could be himself and get deeply involved in music then I could too.
Alanna: I definitely picked up the same Xtendamix influence as Pho. Everyone in our generation of Canada did. When we were little, music wasn’t so Internet-based and Muchmusic was still the main outlet to expose kids to cool new music. So every Saturday we all watched Master T play low-budget dancehall videos alongside Kardinal and Monica.
But my singing and music roots originally come from the church. I started singing gospel music when I was eight. Looking back, I was lucky to have the training that I did – church is like boot camp for musicians. During competition season I would sometimes spend 30 hours a week rehearsing. We had poor equipment and weren’t always that refined, but our teachers experimented a lot with our sound and we always tried new things with harmonies and arrangements. I remember singing in the large ensemble at one teen competition. We were an anglo West Indian gospel group, but we sang in French too and we added the vocal riff from the Fugees version of ‘Killing Me Softly’ to the end of our tune.
I spent part of my childhood in Ottawa, which is a mix of French and English. And my Mum ran a short-stay foster home growing up, so we had kids pass through who were everything from Portugese to African to Inuit. It didn’t necessarily inform my musical influences, but it definitely planted the seed for trying new things
If I understand correctly, Bonjay formed at the Jokers of the Scene-curated Ottawa *Disorganised* parties. Has the shift to Toronto affected or changed your music? If so, how?
Pho: I started Disorganised together with Chris and Linus at an Italian restaurant in Chinatown. They went on to become Jokers of the Scene and we moved to Toronto to go to school. Since we moved here I think we’ve become less influenced by what we read, and a lot more by what we hear around us and the people we meet. I don’t think we’d have ended up making this dancehall meets leftfield indie soul record if we weren’t living in the west end of Toronto, playing everything from indie beer fests to sweet 16 soca parties in Brampton.
Alanna: Yes, Diso is where I met Pho. I stumbled on the party by accident. I didn’t want to go because most of the parties in Ottawa at the time were tailored to the hockey/Nickelback crowd. I used to sing the national anthem for the Ottawa U hockey team’s games. So I’d end up going clubbing with that crowd. I was craving something new, something good.
Around the same time, I started working at CHUO, Ottawa U’s campus-community station. So, I was hearing all this new and innovative music on the radio, but I hadn’t linked with that community at any parties. If I did encounter them it was a stand up show at a dive bar, home by midnight.
So, when I went to Disorganised I lost my mind! I hadn’t heard most of the songs they were playing. Plus, all the hardcore and indie boys I saw at the shows I was going to were moshing to NWA there. That’s what ‘Stumble’ is about. It’s an ode to Disorganised and other parties from that mid-2000s era. And that moment when I stepped in.
I always say that until I was 20 I could only dance to dancehall. Wining to the ground or on my head? No problem. Been doing that at Caribana since I was about 4 or 5. But, I never danced to anything else until I went to Disorganised! You could pretty much do whatever you wanted. It was the perfect platform to start singing tunes live and trying out whatever we wanted.
Though, it could have gone another way if I’d introduced myself to Chris or Linus first. Thank God – already I’ve seen Linus half naked at 3am too many times!
I’ve heard Alanna talk about a love of dancehall music for its versatility; what makes and keeps dancehall versatile?
Alanna: Well, Jamaica’s motto is “Out of many, one people”, which speaks to the diversity of its population. I think that lays the foundation for dancehall’s versatility. The British brought Irish over as indentured servants, Chinese miners got “stuck” on the island on their way to California. East Indians and Germans were brought over. And they worked together – willingly or not – to build the country. Can you imagine all the accidental music they made in that place? Plus, there’s an inherent confidence to Jamaicans. I don’t know what it is, but I haven’t met a sheepish Jamaican yet. Ha ha ha!
In past interviews, people have struggled with the proper categorization for Bonjay. I’ve heard comparisons to r&b, dancehall, neo-soul, and one confused MTV journalist referencing baile funk repeatedly. Where do you stand on how you classify yourselves?
Pho: I don’t know – hopefully a really thoughtful music journalist will do that for us. When I’m sketching out rough tracks I usually draw on dancehall for inspiration. But I think over time with Alanna wanting to sing more, that will become a bit less of the focus. Lately I’ve been building some tunes with from a vision of what ESG or Shuggie Otis would do if they’d come out of 80s dancehall or UK bass music in the 90s. Or Toronto in 2010 I guess.
I remember at one point you were culling together a collection of fake patois accents from television shows and movies. What was the impetus behind that project?
Alanna: Well, we have this tune Frawdulent on the CD/digital version of the album. And that’s actually what it’s about. For reasons that are beyond me, most American movies and TV shows enlist actors with the worst accents to play Jamaicans. Just ask anyone West Indian and they’ll tell you how bad it is! Not to mention the fact that the Jamaicans are always gangsters or musicians. It’s something that resonates with a lot of quote-unquote ethnic people. Because people keep coming up to tell us “I know what you mean, they do that to us too!”
When you came down to Guelph and absolutely destroyed, I remember playing Ace of Base as one of the last songs of the night and feeling a bit embarrassed until one of you came over and said something like ‘this is my jam’ – where do you stand on calling something authentic or lacking authenticity?
Pho: Lan, you can field this one. No comment on Ace of Base from me.
Alanna: I love Ace of Base. They had the gall to write a pop song about a prostitute when it was still risqué to do so. Plus, I don’t think Ace of Base is so far off from other stuff I like. “All That She Wants” could have been a 90’s dancehall tune if Nadine Sutherland was singing it. Or a b-side to Carly Simon’s ‘Why’.
Once when you noticed my Vybz Kartel t-shirt, we had a discussion about the way that some dancehall styles would fit right in at Pride for their outlandish colors. One of the hopes that I have about dancehall is that it can find other things to talk about than its opinion of queer folks. What are your hopes for dancehall?
Pho: I hope musicians visit producers at their studios more often. Some of our favourite music comes out of the period when people would go down to collaborate on records. Like Talking Heads at Compass Point in the Bahamas, or Ian Dury and Serge Gainsboug working with Sly & Robbie. People go down to Jamaica now but I feel like they just want vocals about the same old topics instead of aiming to make something fresh and new. I would love to do same one day, have people visit us here and infuse a little bit of Toronto into their music.
Any fears about the future?
Alanna: Having to use truck stop washrooms while on tour.
To Drake, success is defined as *the money/, money and the cars/, cars and the clothes/ I suppose/ I just want to be successful*. What is success for Bonjay?
Pho: Making music that makes people feel a certain way.
Alanna: Doing me despite the risks involved.
You’ve just finished recording new material, what can you tell us about it? If Alanna’s fast part on your last ‘Gimmee Gimmee‘ single was something like the sound of an exorcism, what does the new material sound like?
Alanna: Post-exorcism. There’s a lot more singing and a lot more nuance. These are full-on songs rather than tracks. I think we’ll continue to straddle different scenes but this will probably be slotted by a lot of people into “indie” more than the club. It’s another step toward really building a sound of our own and I’m really proud of it.
I was listening to the masters and realized that Broughtupsy has so many different vocal stylings and ‘vibes’ to the production, but it flows really well. The commonality between all of them is the dancehall influence. It always hints at it, even when go really deep.
Bonjay have been gifted the supernatural power to resurrect one person from the dead and spend a night doing anything with them – who would you choose, and what would you do?
Pho: Most of the people I’d be most amped to hang out with are still alive. But from those who’ve passed I’d pick two: James Brown and Curtis Mayfield. Both are phenomenally gifted, they innovated in ways that had never been done before and changed music, took control of their careers by handling their business. They both had insane work ethics. We’d write some songs together.
Alanna: I would kill to record with Arthur Russell. That man did whatever pleased him. His music didn’t always make sense or it wasn’t always understood, but you can’t help, but feel it.
If I could bring back two, I would love to bring back Aaliyah and sit in a session with her, Missy and Timbaland circa 1997. That would be a beautiful thing.
I’ve hazily pieced together twitter rumors about a round of the Risk boardgame involving Bill Murray at SXSW. Can you confirm or deny this?
Pho: We never comment on strategy game related rumours. Aziz Ansari showed up at a show we played with Holy Fuck last week. I felt bad for him, it was like Kevin Durant showing up at a Y – he might not turn heads walking down the street but at a bar in Parkdale in 2010 he is pretty much the biggest celebrity you could name and everybody wanted to wife or fight him.
Alanna: Yeah that was a bit embarrassing.
Now that you have our attention, anything else you’ve been meaning to say?
Alanna: We’re about to pull the trigger.
