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.
Played Out
Jonwayne Lyrics
Jump to: Overall Meaning ↴ Line by Line Meaning ↴
Just to think what, why, when, who and how
And sometimes these nouns get chewed in vows
I make to only break 'em, for God's sake take 'em
They're kinda useless, like old guys on that new shit
I'm through kid, this rap shit's getting booted
Name the last talented vandalist, looted the damages
Be outweighing candid kicks he gets
But then he throws the guns in to get the guns running
Then the car, so he can speed faster than their running
And he's still doing what he's wanting, right?
Nah, I live too many lives
Living ska, punk rock, copping top ramen nights
With a dollar in my pocket and nothing to my name
And in debt to my father when my past got lame
Doesn't matter 'bout the flames
That be coming out the mouth with the toothpaste
Cause real rap's fallen off like a toupe
Ever since a heat seeker took Jam Master Jay
Ok, there, look, I said it no credit
You're embedded with the notion that commotion's been settling
Down, look all around you, how are you confounded
I found that the noise was never loud?
Played out, played out, played out, played out
Yuck, look at yourself you fucking mess
And in a couple months they're calling you a fucking pest
Ducking messages, owing several bucks to your nemesis
In this lifestyle no telling who the winner is
Not that thinner kid, he died in 96 when I was six
When monkey bars held me by my wrist
Eating Kix, the golden age of rap, boom brrap
Making scrap of the spitters that were slapping on the tracks
Staying paid, living dangerous ways
Back when shit never leaked you had to wait for the date
Copping CDs, Run DMC to the Bee-Gees
The end of an era giving emcees the night terrors
A rapper's work is his body and mind
Now these kids size it up like it's nothing but a paper cut
But it's nothing, man, I never had to pay for stuff
I'll just take the bus, eat scraps and don paper cuffs
In Jonwayne's song "Played Out", he showcases his unique style of rap with striking lyricism coupled with a muffed-up, old-school beat. In the first verse, Jonwayne talked about his four minds in his brain, which are in constant overdrive to think about what, why, when, who, and how. He goes on to describe how these thoughts can become menacing, like old guys on new trends. Jonwayne seems to be frustrated with the state of the rap game and feels that the real rap has fallen off like a toupe, emphasizing the lack of real talent in the contemporary music scene.
In the second verse of the song, Jonwayne refers to the golden age of rap and states that it was the end of an era that gave MC's night terrors. He emphasizes how back then, spitters used to chop lyrics and make scrap over tight beats, living dangerous ways, and staying paid. In the third verse, he says that he never had to pay for stuff, implying that he has lived an uncomplicated life and that money never controlled his artistic expression.
Line by Line Meaning
I got four minds in my brain right now
I'm constantly analyzing with my inquisitive mind using the psychological lenses of what, why, when, who, and how.
And sometimes these nouns get chewed in vows
I ponder and swear on these intellectual concepts that I eventually break, rendering them useless.
I make to only break 'em, for God's sake take 'em
I only swear on these nouns to then break them and hope that God will take them away from my mental space.
They're kinda useless, like old guys on that new shit
These concepts are as pointless as elderly people trying to understand and adapt to the newest trends.
I'm through kid, this rap shit's getting booted
I'm done with this genre, it is time to move on and find something new.
Name the last talented vandalist, looted the damages
Point out the recent great prominent artist who left a shocking impact and raided the streets.
Be outweighing candid kicks he gets
Their brilliant accomplishments overshadow the honest praise they receive.
When he spits what he wants to, fire by the Bunsen
When this artist raps what he desires, it is as hot as burning flames under the Bunsen burner.
But then he throws the guns in to get the guns running
This artist gives up his pure intentions and instead on creating great music, he aims to create conflict.
Then the car, so he can speed faster than their running
He then uses transportation to run away from the destruction while being faster than his opponents.
And he's still doing what he's wanting, right?
Despite taking harmful steps, the artist continues to do what he wants to do.
Nah, I live too many lives
I've lived numerous different lifestyles and experiences that have shaped me into who I am today.
Living ska, punk rock, copping top ramen nights
I've lived through and enjoyed a variety of different genres and experiences, including ska and punk music as well as nights eating cheap ramen noodles.
With a dollar in my pocket and nothing to my name
At times, I've had only a single dollar in my possession and nothing physically to show for the life I've lived.
And in debt to my father when my past got lame
At my lowest point, I was in debt to my father due to my mistakes and failings in my past.
Doesn't matter 'bout the flames
Despite the criticism and insults I receive, I'm not affected because I've learned to ignore it all.
That be coming out the mouth with the toothpaste
The words of others about me are like toothpaste in their mouths, something to be spit out and forgotten.
Cause real rap's fallen off like a toupe
Authentic rap music has lost its charm and has been revealed to be a fake, just like a toupe.
Ever since a heat seeker took Jam Master Jay
The death of Jam Master Jay was the turning point for the decline of real rap music.
Ok, there, look, I said it, no credit
I acknowledged the issue of the decline of rap music, even though I won't receive recognition or credit for doing so.
You're embedded with the notion that commotion's been settling
You believe that the noise and chaos surrounding daily life has subsided and settled down, but it's not the truth.
Down, look all around you, how are you confounded
Everything around you is still chaotic and unpredictable, and you are confused by it.
I found that the noise was never loud?
I discovered that the chaos and noise were never as intense or loud as I originally thought.
Yuck, look at yourself you fucking mess
You are a disgusting and unorganized individual.
And in a couple months they're calling you a fucking pest
Before long, people will be referring to you as a bothersome nuisance.
Ducking messages, owing several bucks to your nemesis
You avoid addressing messages and owe numerous debts to a person who is your personal rival.
In this lifestyle no telling who the winner is
In this line of work or way of life, it's impossible to identify who is ultimately successful or victorious.
Not that thinner kid, he died in 96 when I was six
The previously mentioned person was not successful, evidenced by their death in 1996, when I was only six years old.
When monkey bars held me by my wrist
During my childhood years, I would play on the monkey bars and hold on tightly.
Eating Kix, the golden age of rap, boom brrap
As a child, I enjoyed eating Kix cereal while listening to rap music from its heyday.
Making scrap of the spitters that were slapping on the tracks
Back then, I would easily dismiss and ridicule rappers whose performances seemed weak and lacking.
Staying paid, living dangerous ways
During my prime, I kept making money and living through unnecessary risks.
Back when shit never leaked you had to wait for the date
Back in the day, people had to anticipate new music releases and there were never any leaks beforehand.
Copping CDs, Run DMC to the Bee-Gees
I would purchase CDs, ranging all the way from classic rap artists like Run DMC to pop acts like the Bee-Gees.
The end of an era giving emcees the night terrors
The decline of real rap music ended an era and left emcees feeling worried and anxious.
A rapper's work is his body and mind
A rapper's success is determined by their intellect and physical abilities.
Now these kids size it up like it's nothing but a paper cut
Current young people belittle rapping, treating it as something as simple as a paper cut when in reality it is much more complex.
But it's nothing, man, I never had to pay for stuff
Despite the complexity of rapping, I've never had to pay to enjoy and appreciate it; the love for it comes freely.
I'll just take the bus, eat scraps and don paper cuffs
I'm fine with taking public transportation, eating humble and unappetizing food, and wearing cheap clothing.
Contributed by Caroline E. Suggest a correction in the comments below.