Zine #04: Starring Koji Kali
Singer, songwriter and producer Koji Kali released her album, Rolling Mary, in April just before the world went to shit. The co-founder of Lost Goddess Records takes me inside her mind as we talk her creative process, how current events have affected her relationship with music and the importance of authentically being herself in the industry.
A small arm stretching towards the sun, waiting to be picked up and plopped down on grandpas lap. Each key of the organ hits deep, reverberating through every growing bone. Acoustics change as mom roams around the house rehearsing her vocals; the same voice that soothed in the womb. Koji Kali has been surrounded by music from the dawn of her existence. By age six, the piano was her diary. And at 13, when no one else matched her passion, she started producing music. “I remember listening to records and picking out each instrument and just studying their roles. Studying how they were used and how they added more color to the record. And because I had already had singing in my nature, I would always look at a record as a whole. I know a lot of producers that just make beats and don’t really hear melodies when it comes to vocal stuff.”
Her inspirations span the spectrum from rock bands like The Sonics, The Police, Death, AC/DC to Neo soul/R&B artists like Jill Scott, Erykah Badu, India Arie, and Lauryn Hill. Hill and Amy Winehouse were huge inspirations. “It’s something about the way their music gives you a sense of familiarity. It’s like a warm hug to my ears every time I turn their records on,” Koji explains before going on. “Producer-wise, I’ve always loved Quincy Jones’ work ethic, Timbaland, Missy Elliot, Rick Rubin, Max Martin, Benny Blanco, and as of recently, Kaytranada. I love the way these peoples records have made me feel and the little nuances that were thought out when constructing these masterpieces. The commonality throughball of these producers is that their records have moved people emotionally, as well as made them dance.”
Slightly informed by her ADHD, Koji’s process is a little bit of this, a little bit of that. Except unlike me, who just ends up with a dozen unfinished projects and ten barely colored in watercolors, Koji’s knits her bits and pieces together with the instinctual ability of Arachne. “It helps me connect to my music more through that process of doing a little of each different bit because typically, when I create an instrumental, at some point I hit a wall. And once I hit that wall when trying to figure out more instrumentation, I somehow am lead to creating a melody with my vocals. When I have my melody then that inspires me to add more instruments because maybe I will be doing something with my voice that I can emulate with an instrument or vice versa. Or even sometimes when I am in the process of making the instrumental then I also get melody ideas for verses and choruses, which can sometimes take me off track from my initial idea with the instrumental. But then it turns into something else when I add the melodies. Trust me my brain is like a ball of tangled string lol.”
And the unique connection she holds pays off not just for her but for the listener. Her sonic style is seamless. Literally seamless. Her vocals and production are in a whirlwind romance. The couple that lays in bed all day Sunday, smoking a joint as every limb intertwines and sweat droplets combine and fall like petals. Her harmonies turn to her instrumentals and whisper tenderly, I don’t know where I end and you begin.
While we would be quick to deem her music as soul and r&b because the vibe and it being by a Black womxn (something she addresses later), her music pulls from a multitude of genres and decades. It’s a nuanced renovation of soul/r&b/pop for the genre melding generation. “I would describe my music style as a mix of things. Typically within my records I always have a heavy bass and drum because I believe that together as one they work as a beating heart. And I want my heart to beat as loud as possible.” The balance of playful whimsy with heartfelt sensitivity bleeds through the whole album. It’s the kind you put on while traipsing around or driving, and end up listening to four times over before even realizing the repeat button was pressed.
Her April 2020 release was a labor of love, but even more so, Rolling Mary was an act of self-love. It was a chance to look at her growth and honor it. As a result, it’s an incredibly authentic body of work and there’s an overall sense of release. “Rolling Mary took me 6 months. Between maintaining that balance with work and then dedicating time after my shift to working and finishing this album, it was wild. At some point, I didn’t think that I would ever release a project personally... one thing that I find about being a musician is, as you grow your music also grows. So there was a time when I would create things and then a few weeks would go by and I’d listen to it again and I feel like there was something missing. I did not realize that I was growing. I had to step away and grow more into who I was as a person in order for me to approach my music the way that I truly wanted to.”
Amidst all the chaos in the world, this album is a nice respite of tender emotion lapping at the shores of entrancement. My personal favorites are ‘Magic’ and ‘Smokin’’ but the whole album is chefs kiss ✨gold✨
Below are some moments from our conversation. My messages are in italics, Koji’s responses are screenshot and in the graphic.
(In response to Koji saying “my brain as of currently is in survival mode.”)
Survival mode right now especially, I can’t even imagine what that feels like. Between the pandemic, being Black during the revolution and police violence, and just the normal issues of money and access, I’m sure sensory overload is a heavy understatement for the anxiety, anger and fear that must cause. How’re you navigating your life right now? And how has it affected what music means to you?
Yeah, white indie boy’s are always the first to say the worst pain makes the best music. But we see art as a remedy to heartbreak, and loss and love are what we associate as being said pain. And obviously right now far exceeds those. I think a lot of white and non Black artists right now don’t grasp that this systemic racism and violence goes far beyond inspirational heartbreak and can really put you at odds with the creative part of yourself. Outside of the current moment, how was music helped you celebrate the parts of yourself society deems unwanted?
You’ve honestly given me such introspective and meaningful answers and it really was inspiring. I really appreciate it and you taking the time and energy to share your experience with me. I just have one last little question. Even though pride is over, it’s always a good time to celebrate queer love. So to end on a happy note, and it’s a little bit of an abstract/relies on your way with words, what do you feel when you kiss/embrace your girlfriend?
