Jonwayne is an incredibly prolific up-and-coming producer and emcee from La… Read Full Bio ↴Jonwayne is an incredibly prolific up-and-coming producer and emcee from La Habra, California associated with the Low End Theory, the Wedidit Collective and Stones Throw Records.

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.

You Can Love Me When I'm Dead
Jonwayne Lyrics

Jump to: Overall Meaning ↴ Line by Line Meaning ↴

Welcome to the Metropolis
Where we don't even sweat an apocalypse
El aliens
Verses with the substance of common bits
Killing the beat like a marauder
Singing and now I'm a martyr
Maury Povich
Because you know the style has no father

Leaving 'em blind
Even Steven I don't even bother
It makes me Wonder
Why I just kill it like a grizzly monster
And when I kick it
Angry birds are just thirsty for water
Perched upon my arm
When I flex the feathers rip to shreds
Getting head like a highlander
With bystanders
This is rap shit
Recite banter without standards
Cold-blooded art
Like a salamander on fine canvas
Painted inch thick
With the pistol whip grip
UGH
I speak in doubles like a Siamese script
And I'll be famous
When they catch up with this time machine shit
But by then you'll have to dig me up
Vinyl over a skeleton
Set the record straight
Bones to crates, time's irrelevant

You can love me when I'm dead
You can love me
You can love me when I'm dead
You can love me when I'm dead
You-you-you can you can you can
Love me when I'm dead
You can love me when I'm dead
You-you-you can you can you can
Love me when I'm dead
You-you-you-you
Can love me when I'm dead

You can love me when I'm dead
You can love me
You can love me when I'm dead
You can love me when I'm dead
You-you-you can you can you can
Love me when I'm dead
You can love me when I'm dead
You-you-you can you can you can
Love me when I'm dead
You-you-you-you
Can love me when I'm dead

Now every time I grab the mic
I rock it just like that
Now every time I grab the mic
I rock it just like that
Now every time I grab the mic
I rock it just like that

You can love me when I'm dead
You can love me
You can love me when I'm dead
You can love me when I'm dead
You-you-you can you can you can
Love me when I'm dead
You can love me when I'm dead
You-you-you can you can you can
Love me when I'm dead

You-you-you-you
Can love me when I'm dead

Overall Meaning

The song "You Can Love Me When I'm Dead" by Jonwayne is a rap track that essentially serves as an ode to the artist's own skills as a rapper. The opening lines of the song welcome the listener to the "Metropolis," which can be interpreted as the world of rap or hip-hop, where even an apocalypse doesn’t rattle the artists. The next line, "El aliens," is a reference to himself and his rap crew, who are outsiders in a sense but bring a unique perspective to the game. The verses that follow are about his ability to spit verses that are both smart and catchy, essentially "killing" the beat with ease. He talks about his unique style, which has no father, meaning it is not influenced by anyone else. He describes himself as leaving his competition ("even Steven") blind and not even bothering with them. He wonders why he can kill the mic like a "grizzly monster" and says his rhymes make angry birds thirsty for water. He shifts to a metaphor of a powerful bird perched on his arm, flexing his biceps with such force that he rips its feathers to shreds.

Towards the end of the verse, Jonwayne speaks about his own mortality. He raps about his future fame, when they catch up with his "time machine shit," and how he will be remembered long after he is dead. He says that he will be immortalized in vinyl and that his legacy will carry on even when his bones have turned into dust. The song then transitions into the chorus, where Jonwayne repeats the line "You can love me when I'm dead" multiple times. This repetition emphasizes the point that he is making in the verse, that his skills as a rapper will be remembered long after he is gone.

In essence, the song is about Jonwayne's confidence in himself and his skills as a rapper. He speaks about his ability to create rhymes that are both entertaining and smart, while also acknowledging his own mortality and the lasting impact of his art even after he is gone.

Line by Line Meaning

Welcome to the Metropolis
This is a place where there is no fear of any disasters.

Where we don't even sweat an apocalypse
It's a safe place where even the apocalypse cannot cause state of sweat.

El aliens
Referring to some aliens in a spanish-sounding way.

Verses with the substance of common bits
Lyrics that are relatable and easy to understand.

Killing the beat like a marauder
Rapping with an aggressive style and dominating the rhythm.

Singing and now I'm a martyr
Expressing the pain of singing in a passionate and emotional way.

Maury Povich
Referring to the Maury Povich Show and its dramatic style of revealing the truth about relationships.

Because you know the style has no father
The unique style of music has no clear origin or influence.

Leaving 'em blind
People are unable to comprehend the style of music.

Even Steven I don't even bother
It's effortless to create great music, even when under pressure.

It makes me Wonder
It's surprising and unexpected that the music is so powerful.

Why I just kill it like a grizzly monster
Why the music is so aggressive and powerful, like a grizzly bear.

And when I kick it
When he starts rapping or performing.

Angry birds are just thirsty for water
People are really excited and thirsty for the music he's making, like birds searching for water.

Perched upon my arm
The birds are resting on his arm, enjoying the music.

When I flex the feathers rip to shreds
When he performs with so much energy, feathers fall off the birds.

Getting head like a highlander
People are really excited and enjoying the music like the movie Highlander where the main character gets excited about beheadings.

With bystanders
People around him are excited and enjoying the music as well.

This is rap shit
He is speaking about the art of rapping.

Recite banter without standards
He is rapping without having to follow any rules or standards.

Cold-blooded art
The art of rapping is emotionless.

Like a salamander on fine canvas
He is rapping with precision and delicacy, like an artist painting a fine canvas.

Painted inch thick
He is rapping with great depth and meaning.

With the pistol whip grip
He has full control over his rapping style, much like someone with a firm grip on a pistol.

UGH
An expression of frustration or disgust.

I speak in doubles like a Siamese script
He is rapping with rhymes and repetition, like a Siamese script.

And I'll be famous
He will be known and recognized for his music.

When they catch up with this time machine shit
He is creating music that is innovative and futuristic, like time travel.

But by then you'll have to dig me up
He will become famous after he has passed away.