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.
The Come Up Part 2
Jonwayne Lyrics
Jump to: Overall Meaning ↴ Line by Line Meaning ↴
Scoop DeVille
Jonwayne
Digital Diamonds business
Blat
I was in high school
Playing the game
Teachers looking at me like
I thought I couldn't give a fuck
What they didn't know
Is that I didn't show them
My potential, it was frozen
'til I sliced 'em like a shogun
Ugh
This is the art
Words on point like a blowdart
If you've never heard of this bastard
Then you don't know bars
Passed out the diss
Like I handed out the dick
Mix the beats so hard
That they were damaging your whip
I went to college for a year and a half
With no credits
I just went to rehearse the verses
And bare edits
I was working at Gamestop
And drove up to LA
To get a five spot
After closing up shop
These hipsters calling me hipster
It's getting old, makes me sick
Man you couldn't get more punk
With extra holes in your dick
I don't give a fuck about you
Or the rules of your clique
I'd be willing to bet and lose
At the drop of this shit
It's a long time coming
If you don't recognize
The hustle and the wish and dream
Then pay no attention
If you can't see me musically
Then pay no attention
If you can't understand the movement
Then pay no attention
It's a long time coming
If you don't recognize
The hustle and the wish and dream
Then pay no attention
If you can't see me musically
Then pay no attention
If you can't understand the movement
Then pay no attention
It's a long time coming
If you don't recognize
The hustle and the wish and dream
Then pay no attention
If you can't see me musically
Then pay no attention
If you can't understand the movement
Then pay no attention
In "The Come Up Pt. 2," Jonwayne reflects on his past struggles and experiences as a musician, highlighting his journey as a high school student and college dropout with potential hidden beneath the surface. The opening lines set the tone for the rest of the song as he describes playing a game of cards in high school, all the while hiding the fact that he was a talented artist who had yet to find his voice. As he explains, his potential was "frozen" until he could finally break free and "slice them like a shogun."
Through this song, Jonwayne also alludes to the challenges he faced as an up-and-coming musician, such as being labeled as a "hipster" by others, even though he didn't conform to the usual hipster norms. Despite these struggles, he remains true to himself and his art, uninterested in the opinions of others. In the end, he reinforces the message that success comes from hard work and staying true to oneself, not by conforming to societal standards.
Overall, "The Come Up Pt. 2" serves as a powerful reminder of the daily grind and quiet perseverance required to achieve one's dreams, both in music and beyond.
Line by Line Meaning
I was in high school
During my high school days, I was striving to make progress.
Playing the game
I was playing my life like a game with an end goal in mind.
These cards were business ones
The choices I made during high school will have an impact on my future business endeavors.
Teachers looking at me like
My teachers were looking at me with judgmental eyes.
I thought I couldn't give a fuck
I did not care about what my teachers thought of me.
What they didn't know
My teachers did not know about my potential.
Is that I didn't show them
I was not able to express my potential to my teachers.
My potential, it was frozen
My potential was unrealized and dormant.
'til I sliced 'em like a shogun
I was able to show them my potential and reveal what I was capable of doing.
This is the art
The art of music defines what I am capable of doing as an artist.
Words on point like a blowdart
My lyrics are sharp and on-point, hitting the target and making a statement.
If you've never heard of this bastard
If you are not familiar with my artistry or me as a person.
Then you don't know bars
You are missing out on significant musical experiences and lyrical content that I bring to the table.
Passed out the diss
Delivering a disrespecting content with my sound.
Like I handed out the dick
Giving out a lot of lyrics that would make an impact on the listeners.
Mix the beats so hard
The production of the music is of high quality, just as the lyrics are.
That they were damaging your whip
The music was so good that they put your sound system at risk, causing damage.
I went to college for a year and a half
I spent a year and a half attending college.
With no credits
I did not earn any credits during my time in college.
I just went to rehearse the verses
My primary focus was perfecting my musical artistry, rather than pursuing formal education.
And bare edits
I worked hard on perfecting my craft and making my art as raw and honest as possible.
I was working at Gamestop
I was employed at Gamestop as a worker.
And drove up to LA
I used to travel to LA frequently.
To get a five spot
I went to LA to earn five dollars.
After closing up shop
I would head to LA after finishing my shift at work.
These hipsters calling me hipster
The term hipster is being used against me by certain people identified as hipsters.
It's getting old, makes me sick
This continuous trend of referring to me as a hipster has become very tedious and tiresome.
Man you couldn't get more punk
No amount of rebelliousness you have could get more than what I have.
With extra holes in your dick
You couldn't try any harder than you are currently doing to get to me.
I don't give a fuck about you
I don't care about you or your opinions of me.
Or the rules of your clique
I do not follow any set of societal standards or ideologies.
I'd be willing to bet and lose
I am willing to take risks and face the consequences of my actions.
At the drop of this shit
I am always ready to defend myself or speak out for what I believe in.
It's a long time coming
I have been working and striving for success for a very long period.
If you don't recognize
If you are not aware of the hard work and dedication I have put into my craft.
The hustle and the wish and dream
The hard work, determination, and dream that has inspired me throughout my musical career.
Then pay no attention
If you do not acknowledge my art, there's no need for me to seek your attention.
If you can't see me musically
If you don't recognize my skills as a musician and an artist.
Then pay no attention
If you don't see me evolving and creating meaningful works of art, then I do not seek your attention.
If you can't understand the movement
If you are not able to comprehend the message and impact that my music has in the world.
Then pay no attention
If you cannot recognize and appreciate the significance of my movement, then your attention is not needed.
Lyrics © O/B/O APRA AMCOS
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind