Queens Of The Stoned Age: THEESatisfaction Interviewed

Seattle-based "Empresses of Time" THEESatisfaction have just followed up a string of remarkable self-released records with their debut for Sub Pop. The duo tell Stevie Chick about bonding over music and embracing their weirdness

They say a picture’s worth a thousand words. I’m unclear on how that

exchange rate adjusts for moving pictures accompanied by sound, but do

us both a favour and watch this Youtube.

Okay? Finished? By my estimations, roughly 87% of you should now have

fallen hard for THEESatisfaction, and the other 13% are in the process

of fighting their baser impulses and succumbing to THEESatisfaction

fandom. RESISTANCE IS FUTILE.

"We sound weird / In fact we are not from here / We come from there /

From outer spaces / Deep spaces / Those places"

THEESatisfaction, ‘We Sound Weird’

Let’s begin with the facts. THEESatisfaction number Stasia Irons and

Catherine Harris-White who, according to their Bandcamp page, are

"Empresses of Time" hailing from the "pre-Egyptian Dynasty". Nothing

I’ve heard by these self-confessed ‘queens of the stoned-age’

challenges these assertions, though when I recently spoke to the pair

via crackly transatlantic phone-line (their telepathic abilities were

on the fritz that evening), they spun me a fable about first meeting

while studying at college in Seattle in late 2005. Clearly, these

Empresses are worried their magical powers will frighten and confuse

the populace and so have concocted this more Earthbound and mortal

backstory in response. It’s a noble impulse, so let’s run with it.

"We went to different schools," says Cat. "I was studying vocal jazz,

Stas was studying English. But we’d go to all the same parties, we had

mutual friends."

"When we first met, we became friends based off of what we were

listening to," says Stas. "Jazz, old school hip-hop, neo soul – we

were listening to a lot of Bilal, Jill Scott, things like that. Our

friends weren’t really on that, you know? They were listening to Lil

Jon & The Eastside Boyz, and Lil Wayne, and 50 Cent. Which was cool!

But we were trying to find some deeper-sounding music at the time. We

connected on music first, and then developed a romance [laughs], and

then we just started doing music after we’d been dating for a couple

of years."

The pair were kindreds from the start. Both loved writing and both

loved music, growing up with parents who supported and encouraged

their creative inclinations, in musical housesholds, "in the sense

that there was always good music around," says Cat, "a lot of music

that gets you moving, and that became a part of us. Both my parents

are writers, and I’ve always liked to write, and hum songs, and sing.

Finally when someone was, like, ‘That doesn’t sound bad, Cat’, I

started really going with it."

Stas, meanwhile, was "doing spoken word poetry and trying to figure

out a way to make beats. I have no training in any musical instrument,

so I’d beat on a table or, if I found a drumset, I’d beat on that.

Then I discovered computers when I was at college."

"We just like to jam out, to get funky," laughs Cat. "When we first

met, we’d just be singing to each other, like, ‘Do you know this

song?’ And we’d sing it to the other one. I don’t know. It’s just fun.

We’ve always sung!"

Armed with rudimentary sampling, sequencing and recording gear, the

duo began work on a series of self-produced, self-released EPs, made

available through their Bandcamp page. That’s Weird began the sequence

in November 2008, followed by a slew of releases with titles like Why

We Celebrate Colonialism, Sandra Bollocks’ Black Baby and their

holiday EP Christmas On The Moon. Over DIY beats repurposing Stevie

Wonder and Anita Baker hooks and Malcolm X speeches into hypnotic

downtempo soundtracks, Cat and Stas sang, rapped and rhapsodised their

lives and perspectives, in songs that were by turns fiery, hilarious,

philosophical, vulnerable, erotic, subterranean and seductive.

"When we started out, we’d been around a lot of really bad energy,"

says Cat. "Like racism, a whole lot of racism. Growing up, learning

about life. At the time we were just looking for a way to heal, to

dance through our pain, kind of. The music was just for us."

And now?

"Now, it’s more…" She pauses. "It’s still healing."

"I’d say so," nods Stas. "But people enjoy hearing it, so I guess

they’re healing as well."

"We incorporate all the stuff that’s going on in our lives into our

music," Cat adds. "I mean, we’re not sad all the time [Laughs].We

crack jokes, and we party, we cry… There’s different aspects to it."

"All the haters can kiss my ass"

THEESatisfaction, ‘That’d Be Rude’

Stas says that there’s a lot of hip-hop in Seattle at the moment. "As

of right now, there’s way too much," she laughs. "Not in a bad way…

It’s all different, too. It’s a diverse scene, culturally, sexually…"

"But when we first started out and jumped into the scene, there

weren’t really any women there," says Cat. "So we were like the first

ones. And people saw two girls up onstage, rapping and singing, and

were like, ‘What the hell’s going on?’"

THEESatisfaction knew they didn’t fit in, and they internalized this

displacement, made a virtue of it. Their first EP includes what might

be their anthem, ‘Wee Sound Weird’, a very Boho slice of lo-fi

blissfulness that, over several looped bars of Bernard Wright’s

‘Spinnin’, traces their idiosyncratic rhyme schemes and offbeat timings

back to extra-terrestrial origins. But it’s a science fiction that

serves as a metaphor for a more everyday alienation, one ameliorated

by their creative efforts.

"We’ve embraced our weirdness," says Stas. "Growing up, we were both

queer black women. It was kind of difficult to, like, go through High

School having all those attributes Being weird, being called

‘weirdoes’ and ‘queerdoes’ and all kinds of things… It’s something we

embrace."

"Basically, that is who we are," agrees Cat. "And it will have to be

dealt with by the world! [laughs]. At the same time, there have been a

lot of women in hip-hop, who just aren’t highlighted. And there’s a

lot of women in hip-hop who aren’t ‘out’. It’s a personal choice,

whether you decide to tell people about your sexual orientation, and

you don’t have to offer that. I appreciate all the woman musicians and

woman rappers and singers and everyone who have come before us. And

there have always been queer black women doing music. There’s always

been queer black people doing music, always, always, and there always

will be. It’s just a matter of if they think you need to know who

they’re sleeping with."

"Without music I would be dead / so I use it and I spread revolution,"

raps Stas on ‘Wee Sound Weird’, as Cat croons with conviction, like the

Sun Ra Arkestra’s June Tyson, "I come from a land called outer space /

it’s such a distant, different place… We’re moving at a different pace

/ there’s so much wonder / I don’t think you’ll understand." That

different place they’re coming from, the different pace they set, is

all part of the reason their music is so unique, so essential: warm,

human, smudged thumbprints around the edges letting you know this is

art, not product.

"The project is like our baby, our oldest child," Cat says. "So

we’re, like, ‘Alright, this might be strange or funky or whatever, but

this is how we felt at the time.’ That’s the kind of funk we’re in: a

positive funk, but a funk nonetheless."

"THEESatisfaction don’t give a fuck about a fascist."

THEESatisfaction, ‘Earthseed’

It’s a funk that was felt by Ishmael Butler, aka Palaceer Lazaro of

fellow Seattle dream warriors Shabazz Palaces, aka (to the older among

us, at least) Butterfly of eminent Brooklyn jazz-hoppers Digable

Planets, who invited THEESatisfaction to guest on Shabazz Palaces’

subterranean and brilliant debut album, Black Up. "He’s from Seattle,"

says Stas. "We all grew up in Seattle, and our families know each

other, but we never really got introduced to each other until a couple

of years ago. We instantly connected."

THEESatisfaction are now labelmates with Shabazz Palaces, having

signed to local underground rock imprint Sub Pop last year. "They have

a great ear," says Cat. "They’re always on point, you trust their

name. They’re not into, like, making everything all poppy and

mainstream; they really appreciate the music for what it is."

Transitioning from their DIY roots to a major independent like Sub Pop

has meant some adjustments to their typically unfussy working

arrangements. "The biggest deal is having other people hear the record

before we put it out, and having to wait to release it," says Cat of

their just-released debut album, awE naturalE. "Usually it’s just Stas

and I, and we’re like, ‘You like that?’ ‘Yeah, I like that. Put it up

on Bandcamp’," she laughs.

"We’ve definitely had to wait a while longer to release the album," nods Stas. "But actually making the record took no time at all. We’ve

been dreaming about making this album all of our lives, we were just

waiting on the opportunity and resources to do it the way we wanted.

We were definitely ready for it."

"Now, everything’s amplified in such a big way," adds Cat. "It’s

exciting to have Sub Pop on our team, and have really good management

and booking agents, all these magical, majestic things we didn’t have

before. It’s like having a flying unicorn, or something!"

On awE naturalE the lo-fi fug of their earlier EPs has cleared, but

all their idiosyncrasies remain in place: their loping, offbeat loops,

their intertwining voices switching between singing and rapping with

an ease that blurs the divisions, finishing each other’s lines,

further realising each other’s ideas, two halves of a perfectly

imperfect whole. There’s not a wasted second, the duo gliding from

ruminations on tangled identity-politics, to haunted heart-broken

meditations, to polysyllabic battle rhymes, to sensual celebrations of

the-body-erotic, over the deepest, most satisfying half-hour 2012 has

served up yet, set to a consistently inspired soundscape of looped

murmurs, mantric drum-machine riddles, stomping sequencer music and

brooding, addictive patchworks of intemperate jazz and hedonic funk.

A work worthy of Empresses from the Pre-Egyptian Dynasty, perhaps, but

it’s that down-to-earth human quality that is their true magic, that

makes THEESatisfaction so special, so beguiling. You can keep your

flying unicorns, mate.

The Quietus Digest

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