Meet Jonwayne, a baby-faced white kid from the LA suburb of La Habra, who's been a fixture at Low End Theory long before he was old enough to drink. The 28 year-old rapper/producer got his start early, writing his first raps and recording his first beats while still in high school. Back then, he was a football-playing poetry-writing theater geek. The football part made sense; both his older brothers were varsity players, and their coaches knew him since he was a kid. But by the end of his sophomore year, the allure of jockstraps and pushups had waned, and Jonwayne (then still known as Jon Wayne) removed himself from the roster.
Fearful that they had a slacker son on their hands, his parents presented Jon with two options: find a job, or get some kind of productive hobby. The choice was easy—he got involved with the theater program at his school and attended the Young Artists Workshop, where he discovered a love of spoken word performance. Around the same time, he found his poetic muse; a girl he had a crush on was into poetry, and he wanted to impress her. "I was having all kinds of frustrating problems with raging hormones and trying to express myself. I was a mess," he says. "So [writing poetry] was really helpful. It wasn't necessarily a ruse—it just started as this half-assed thing and then it turned into something that I did really heavily for the next few years."
Writing turned to rapping at the age of 17, when a crew from West Covina at the Young Artists Workshop made an impression on him. Every day they'd bring over a workstation to make beats and Wayne would listen to them rap. "I was kinda tagging along, being the token white kid of the group, because, you know they needed one of those guys in there," he says, recalling how they'd encourage him to start rapping. "I started developing a style, but I wasn't comfortable recording it because they all had a certain aesthetic, and they pushed a certain vibe on everyone." After saving up enough cash to buy a cheap microphone, he left the group and started recording on his own. "I was kinda feeling like I was going somewhere else."
That somewhere else turned out to be Low End Theory, where he found a community of more like-minded artists such as dublab and Low End Theory-affiliated Kutmah. Wayne remembers the night they met very clearly: it was in early 2009, and the night's guests were Dibiase, Devonwho and Mono/Poly—a lineup that can easily draw a line stretching around the block in 2012, but which still allowed for some elbow room on the dance floor at the time. Dibia$e, Wayne's friend and mentor, encouraged him to bring a stack of CDs of his beats and hand them out to select tastemakers in the crowd—including Kutmah.
"Dibiase was like, 'You need to give him something.' So I did, even though I didn't know who he was at the time. He said he wanted to give me something too. He gave me this Sacred Geometry Mix and that was it! He was the first person to ever put me on." Kutmah was working at Poo-Bah Records at the time, and he started playing Wayne's CD there. DJ Nobody—Low End curator and fellow Poo-Bah employee—took notice and asked him for some more beats. After passing along his latest work, Nobody started playing them out during his sets. Soon after, Wayne booked his first Low End gig, becoming one of the youngest artists to grace its tiny stage.
"Elvin [DJ Nobody] had heard my music before, but it wasn't until he heard me rap for Dibia$e that he was like, 'Oh, OK—let's do this,'" he recalls. He invited Wayne over to his house to put together a set. Wayne brought over five CDs worth of material, and after spending a day sorting through the tracks, 30 beats made it onto his 404. "Elvin helped create it. He knew what would work there, so he picked out my set for me … you gotta be inducted into the family, and they took me in."
On the night of his Low End debut, it was pouring rain outside, and it was the first and last time he can remember ever being nervous before a show. "I had envisioned that night for a long time—it'll be packed, I'll subject these people to my shit for half-an-hour and it'll be dope. And then it started raining, and I was like, 'Ah, fuck. This is my one chance and it's not gonna go like I expected.' I didn't want to fuck up. Two hours before go time, I told Elvin, 'I don't think I can do this shit.' I thought it would be awful."
The rain had thinned out the crowd from its normal sweat-soaked, sardine-packed population of beat obsessives. But Wayne found himself rising to the challenge, transformed, swept away with his audience like the water guzzling through the venue's outside patio. "I can safely say it changed the course of my life. I think it was one of Elvin and Kevin's first experiences seeing the next generation—kids taking what they were doing and absorbing their aesthetic and building on it."
Wayne's second big break came shortly thereafter. Early one morning in May 2010, Kutmah woke up to the sound of police knocking at his door. He immediately knew what was going on; born and raised in Brighton, England and brought to Los Angeles at age 12, Kutmah lacked legal-residency status, and it was only a matter of time before someone noticed. Within minutes, he was handcuffed and detained by Department of Homeland Security authorities for failing to honor a voluntary deportation notice that he had signed over a decade earlier.
While he was locked up in a high security prison in New Mexico awaiting deportation, a furious local effort amassed to raise money for his mounting legal fees and raise awareness about the case. About two months in, as deportation loomed, Kutmah asked Wayne to host a benefit show produced by screen-printing collective Hit+Run. He had never performed at a Hit+Run event before—they didn't even really know who he was at the time—but they added him to the night's stacked lineup, which featured Stones Throw's giants like resident funkmaster Dam-Funk, smooth soul crooner Mayer Hawthorne and founding father Peanut Butter Wolf.
"For him to ask me to host, that was a big thing. For me to have the opportunity to share the stage with all these people that I admired and wanted to work with, that was great. I secretly think he knew that would be a great situation for me to be in."
During Dam-Funk's set, Wayne finally caught up with Stones Throw Records label head Wolf, a man he'd been chasing since the days of MySpace. "When I first started making music, the Stones Throw library—the funky, soulful aesthetic—was a very loud template for me," Wayne says. "My music was very derivative at first but then I started to find my voice and ended up going away from them and, in the process, attracted Stones Throw to me." He inked a three-album deal with the label this past January, shortly after his 21st birthday.
Before joining the Stones Throw family, Wayne already had a recording system nailed down: he used to drag a synthesizer, his 404 and some turntables into the bathroom and set up shop: the "synthesizer sits on top of pulled-out drawers, 404 goes on one side of the sink and a turntable goes on the other side." Any extra gear ended up on stacks of books. Wayne would sit in the bathroom composing tracks and beats, his eight-track resting on a trash can beside him, escaping to his bedroom when he needed inspiration for his rap lyrics. It was in the bathroom that he produced what later became his Alpha Pup debut, Bowser, a collection of sample-free beats blending the Warp Records' distinct brand of IDM with video game-influenced melodies. Deeper, darker instrumentals followed with his sophomore album The Death of Andrew, released on Alpha Pup late last year, along with several essential, self-released mixtapes.
The success of Bowser allowed Wayne to graduate from his commode. He now works out of the Stones Throw headquarters in Highland Park, in a studio he helped build with Peanut Butter Wolf and close friend/collaborator Jonti, a fellow Stones Throw signee. At last, Jonwayne finally ended up where he was always meant to be: right next to the ever-elusive, always-brilliant producer Madlib, on the roster of one of the most innovative hip-hop labels in the world.
"I had dreamed for years about coming here and meeting these people and seeing where it all started, [but] as a visitor... rather than a welcomed guest! It goes to show that if you want to grab someone's attention, you literally have to take them by the collar and be like, 'You're fucking listening to me now.' There's no other way."
Releases:
Jonwayne released his debut instrumental album Bowser on Alpha Pup Records on April 19, 2011, the mixtape How Stella Got Her Groove Back in July 2011, the compilation mixtape Thanks, Bro in August 2011, and the mixtape I Don't Care through Wedidit in September 2011. Jonwayne released his second proper album, The Death of Andrew, on October 25, 2011 on Alpha Pup Records. Shortly afterwards he signed to Stones Throw Records, on which he released the beat tape Oodles of Doodles in March 2012. Later that same month, he self-released a mixtape titled This Is False. He released a mixtape titled Jonwayne Fucks Disney on May 29, 2012. Most recently he released Casette (a limited edition 24-minute rap tape available only on casette) through Stones Throw on July 31, 2012.
Black Magic
Jonwayne Lyrics
Jump to: Overall Meaning ↴ Line by Line Meaning ↴
Brushed off his shoulders like he didn't even see me
Everything is green and black
The internet is real and my eyes are not intact
I'm realizing that I shouldn't be surprised in that
In fact my whole brain is filled with cannibals
Diplomats
The only difference is I'm much faster than the sisters
Kissing babies and shaking hands on forsaken land
This is America, the product of an empty plan
And I'm American, so I guess I'm an empty man
Sitting in the studio with few friends and many fans
My job consists of peeling layers off like minivan
Scrape them in a track so I could sell them for a big advance
My mouth piece is a legend like Bagger Vance
I put a few syllables together and into a trance
No hooks still making them dance with certified funk
That these fakes could never have
Life's a bitch and I'm living it 'till the last
Put my past in the past, like getting in the fucking bag
I'm like a bandit up-standing
On my own train, abandoned my own name
So I could live out the fame
Jon Wayne, remember it for an alibi
You're innocent, you saw me taking out a passer-by
Now you know, that's a lie
These heads feel the verse
Like they were chewing on a pacifier
I'm not concerned with what my fans are consuming
I've been sober for three years
And trippier than a eunuch
So sue me
(I've been drinking though
I've been drinking, I'm not going to lie)
I feel like God isn't even trying to let me breath
But I'm back from the dead to keep rappers deceased
Back from the shed with emphatic disease
Keeping fans on the feet, like grass grabbing the cleats
Therapists lie down and tell me stories
Hypnotizing 'em for secrets and leave 'em for the morning
Serve bitches like divorce papers
I'm king of the minor circuit and I force majors
Diminished wages made for dominant behavior
This goon constructed cord in outer space and cut a razor
It's too soon to tell if I'm infinity
But there is nothing so imminent to kill my energy
No enemy dare step to the sea anemone
I'm chillin with my poisonous touch to brush with everything
In the song Black Magic, Jonwayne describes a disillusionment with the state of society, with references to the newscaster brushing him off as if he's not there and the realization that his brain is "filled with cannibals." He laments the emptiness of America's plan and his own identity as an "empty man," sitting in the studio with few friends and many fans. Despite this, he asserts his own power and talent as a rapper, with his mouthpiece being a "legend like Bagger Vance" and his ability to create certified funk. He talks about his experience with sobriety and the trippiness that comes with it, and he describes himself as being back from the dead to keep other rappers deceased.
The overall theme of the song seems to be a sense of dissatisfaction with the world, combined with an assertion of individual power and talent. Jonwayne sees the world as a flawed and empty place, and he's unwilling to be a part of that emptiness. Instead, he asserts his own worth and value, using his art to make a difference and to bring people together.
Line by Line Meaning
The news reporter he walked out of the TV
The news reporter on the TV seemed so real that it appeared as if he walked right out of it.
Brushed off his shoulders like he didn't even see me
The reporter ignored me and acted as if I didn't exist, which made me feel insignificant.
Everything is green and black
The world appears to be surreal, as if I'm living in a dream where everything is green and black.
The internet is real and my eyes are not intact
The online world seems more real than the real world, and I feel like I'm losing touch with reality.
I'm realizing that I shouldn't be surprised in that
It's not surprising anymore that the world seems unreal and that I feel disconnected from it.
In fact my whole brain is filled with cannibals
My mind is filled with negative and self-destructive thoughts, like cannibals eating away at my sanity.
I'm spinning out of control like the solar system
I feel like I'm losing control, like the solar system spinning out of its orbit.
The only difference is I'm much faster than the sisters
I'm moving so fast that even the planets in the solar system seem slow in comparison.
Kissing babies and shaking hands on forsaken land
Politicians visit troubled areas to gain popularity by meeting the people caught in the midst of the chaos.
This is America, the product of an empty plan
America was built on empty promises and unfulfilled dreams.
And I'm American, so I guess I'm an empty man
As an American, I'm part of a society that was built on empty promises, which makes me feel hollow.
Sitting in the studio with few friends and many fans
As a musician, I'm alone in my studio with only a few friends, but with many fans who appreciate my work.
My job consists of peeling layers off like minivan
In my profession, I have to dig deep to peel layers of emotions, experiences, and stories like peeling the layers of a minivan.
Scrape them in a track so I could sell them for a big advance
I use my experiences and stories to create music that could be sold in exchange for financial gain.
My mouth piece is a legend like Bagger Vance
My art of storytelling through music is so good that it is legendary, like the character Bagger Vance from the movie 'The Legend of Bagger Vance.'
I put a few syllables together and into a trance
With a few simple words and rhymes, I have the power to captivate the audience and take them into a trance-like state.
No hooks still making them dance with certified funk
Even without the usual catchy hooks, my music still makes the listeners dance and groove with the certified funk it carries.
That these fakes could never have
The artificial and fake musicians in the industry can never replicate the authenticity and soulfulness of my music.
Life's a bitch and I'm living it 'till the last
Life can be tough, but I'll live it to the fullest until the end.
Put my past in the past, like getting in the fucking bag
I don't dwell on my past mistakes, but rather leave them behind like putting them in a bag and forgetting about them.
I'm like a bandit up-standing
I'm rebellious and unconventional, but still have my principles that I stand by.
On my own train, abandoned my own name
I have embraced my own unique style and way of doing things, shedding my old name and identity to create something new.
So I could live out the fame
My new identity and style have propelled me to fame, which I'm determined to enjoy and live out to the fullest.
Jon Wayne, remember it for an alibi
I use my stage name Jon Wayne as an alibi to escape from my past and create something new and different.
You're innocent, you saw me taking out a passer-by
If someone accuses me of a crime, I can use Jon Wayne as an alibi to prove my innocence.
Now you know, that's a lie
I'm not really a criminal, so the idea that someone saw me taking out a passer-by is a lie.
These heads feel the verse
The listeners can feel the emotions and experiences I put into my music.
Like they were chewing on a pacifier
The listeners are so engrossed in the music that it's like they're pacified and under a spell, like a child chewing on a pacifier.
I'm not concerned with what my fans are consuming
I don't really care about what people think of me or my music, as long as I'm being authentic to myself.
I've been sober for three years
I haven't been taking drugs or alcohol for three years.
And trippier than a eunuch
Even without the influence of drugs, my mind is still creative and profound, like a eunuch who doesn't have any desires to distract him.
So sue me
I don't care if some people dislike or criticize me, they can try to sue me if they want.
I feel like God isn't even trying to let me breathe
I feel so overwhelmed and stifled that it's like even God is conspiring against me to prevent me from finding peace.
But I'm back from the dead to keep rappers deceased
Despite feeling like I'm struggling to survive, I'll never give up and will keep competing with other rappers even if it's draining.
Back from the shed with emphatic disease
I'm back with new music that carries an infectious energy and passion.
Keeping fans on the feet, like grass grabbing the cleats
My music keeps the fans moving and energized, like grass grabbing onto cleats in sport.
Therapists lie down and tell me stories
Even trained therapists need to lie down and tell me stories because I can't help but seize the spotlight in conversations.
Hypnotizing 'em for secrets and leave 'em for the morning
I have a way of captivating people and getting them to reveal their secrets and vulnerabilities, but I will leave them behind and move on in the morning.
Serve bitches like divorce papers
I'm ruthless and unforgiving when it comes to my music, and will serve anyone who stands in my way with the same ruthlessness as filing divorce papers.
I'm king of the minor circuit and I force majors
Although I may not be as mainstream as other artists, I have a dedicated following in the minor leagues, and I even force mainstream artists to pay attention to me.
Diminished wages made for dominant behavior
Although I may not make as much money as other artists, it motivates me to work harder and be more dominant in my craft.
This goon constructed cord in outer space and cut a razor
I'm an enigma and an outsider in the music industry, but I've still managed to create something unique and powerful, like constructing a cord in outer space and cutting it like a razor.
It's too soon to tell if I'm infinity
There's still a lot of time to tell if I'll be remembered forever or just fade away into obscurity.
But there is nothing so imminent to kill my energy
Regardless of my uncertain future, nothing could extinguish my passion and enthusiasm for music.
No enemy dare step to the sea anemone
I'm so fierce and dangerous that no enemy would dare to challenge me, like not touching a sea anemone because of its stinging tentacles.
I'm chillin with my poisonous touch to brush with everything
I'm calmly and confidently brushing up against everyone, infecting them with my unique brand of music that carries a deadly sting.
Contributed by Jason I. Suggest a correction in the comments below.