There’s a song that my middle school music teacher (s/o Mr. Travis) used to have us sing all the time:
🎵 Make new friends, but keep the old.
One is silver, and the other gold. 🎵
I’ve theorized about friendships in the past. I’ve enjoyed writing with and about friends before, too (see me pressuring Dave to put out music, or waxing about anime with Bediako). But I would find it hard to express just how honored I am to continue that practice here and now.
Over the years, I’ve made occasional references here and there to the otherworldly entity known to some as Spacebug. Given my frequent use of myth, I wouldn’t fault you for thinking that was some fictional character. Lucky for us all, that’s not the case. Spacebug is a moniker that belongs to my dear childhood friend Tia, now better known as low iron: DJ and tastemaker extraordinaire. I can say with unbridled confidence and pride that no one spinning in our City of Brotherly Love and Sisterly Affection is more curious, more generous, or more soulful than Tia.
The following interview was completely impromptu. We were just catching up over some Thai food at a picnic table in Hunting Park. A nearby bike life gang was taking advantage of a warm November day. Tia was wearing a jade hoodie over a white tee and some medium-wash denim jeans. Her acrylic nails were painted bright blue. Her hair was laid. Her lashes were popping, complimenting the hazel eyes I’d seen into thousands of times.
Our conversation has been condensed and edited for clarity.
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...Like techno, house music all that stuff. It’s, like, a Black thing but a lot of people don’t know that. Even with this revival of like, uh, you know, mainstream people tryna do the electronic dance kinda thing. People still regard certain things as white people music, you know what I mean? And that’s fine, you know, that’s totally fine, I understand. Because some of it is white people music. I mean, specifically the lower quality music [LAUGHTER]. Excuse me. No, but seriously though.
Wait, hold up. [LAUGHTER] This is too good, do you mind if I record this?
No, go ahead.
Okay, what were you saying?
There’s so many white artists coming out now that are tryna make this tech, house, whatever kinda stuff. And they’re very much inspired by the OG’s, you know, like the ghetto house artist pioneers. But you can tell the difference. It’s interesting like, white people use a vocal sample in the weirdest way. Cuz they don’t really understand the lingo. So when they use a sample, they use it weird. Whereas a Black artist, when they use the sample, it’s like, okay, "This person is talking about this in this little soundbite." So [they] can use it properly or more effectively to really like, say something or do something or punctuate a sound. You know, white people, because they’re not familiar with the slang, they think you talking bout this when you talking bout that.
[LAUGHTER] Do you think they’re, like, willfully ignorant?
Good question. And that brings me to [LAUGHTER]. This past Sunday, and much love to all the people involved and everything, but it was at this place called [REDACTED] on [REDACTED]. But you can tell the person who put it on had a lot of resources, cuz his setup was crazy. And he’s like a young guy, wer’e probably the same age you know what I mean? And he just has access to all this stuff, all these gadgets and things like that, to make the show awesome. And I was very grateful to be there and all, but I was like "Damn!"
It's a pretty small venue, right?
Yeah but it’s a good spot for a lil shindig, it was a Sunday. It was really an awesome show. He had the whole nine yards. Meanwhile I had my gig, my one-year anniversary of bass down low maybe a few weeks before, and I had to scrounge up all my little resources to try to make that special. And in the end, we didn’t even have any candy!!! So the difference in resources is blatant. But you know, that doesn’t make me feel like I’m gonna stop or anything. If anything, it makes me wanna be like: "It’s cool. It’s cool. I’ll be coming around the mountain!" [LAUGHTER]
[LAUGHTER]
So anyway, that’s just some backgorund about the event. But the thing is, right before my set, it was these two young white people playing shit like "Hands Up Thumbs Down" and all that Baltimore club stuff I used to hear growing up at block parties or at somebody’s birthday or whatever. And I just found that strange because I was the only Black person in the space and I’m thinking to myself like: "You don’t even know! You don’t even know! You don’t even KNOW!" I wanted to ask them, "How do you know about that?" And I mean, it was technically sound, you know. But therein lies the difference really. because white people, the way they approach it, they can put together a technically sound mix and - I mean I could do that too, I could make it clean too - but I think our goals are kind of different in how we paint the picture. I'm okay with it sounding a little textured and a little messy and inviting the conversation of like "This person is about to switch it up." Or like, I’m giving you that tease. I feel like that’s a normal way of interacting that I had witnessed from DJs growing up. Like, that's the way this music was intended to be used.
So you're saying that they usually value being precise-
Yes.
-or having a more clinical sound?
Yes, yes, yes, absolutely. And if you look closely, I feel like you can see that. They’re very averse to, like, the crowd hearing those textures. It’s much more flat. It’s much more like, a continuous untz, untz, untz. I feel like that’s their goal. But I mean, DJs like me, we came in and kinda was like "No, we’re gonna introduce you to something a little bit different." But that’s something that I was exposed to growing up. And the music they’re playing, I feel connected to it because of where I heard it and my personal history. But it's also, like, literally the people who are making the music and how they’re making it, like, ya’ll can’t relate! I’m sorry, y’all can’t relate!
[LAUGHTER]
Even me, going to different places and being on different bills and playing alongside different people. I’ve kinda seen it change over time.
Change how? What do you mean?
Yeah so that thing that I was talking about, people wanting to be more smooth and clinical. When I first started DJing, people were saying to me, "You’re kinda all over the place, but that’s why people love you. Cuz you’re not giving us the same untz, untz, untz." It didn’t seem that way to me cuz all these [sounds] are connected, so I’m not really all over the place.
So do they mean this as a compliment when they say it? Or is it meant as like, constructive feedback?
Oh no yeah, it’s a compliment. I think for some people, [my sound] is not what they’re used to, but in the end they receive it well. And a lot of others are like "Finally!", and that’s for many reasons: I tend to play things that are familiar but are just outside what you might have listened to recently or what you’re used to hearing [in a party setting]. And the other reason is that they’re not used to seeing someone who looks like me up there doing that. Wait like, Zuff, oh my Goood I played at a function at [REDACTED] recently and the guy requested like, “Drake, Travis Scott, house kinda vibes”.
[LAUGHTER]
So I’m like, "Okay whatever." I came with my little bit of Drake, Travis, this and that. But I’m like, I know what’s gonna reach you, even if you don’t know that yet. And I’m playing, playing a couple songs, and the guy comes over to me and says: “Don’t be afraid to get a little ratchet.”
Ayo c'mon!!!
No, you feel me right?!!! I mean this was a Black person saying this, but sometimes it be your own people profiling you! There’s this idea about what a Black DJ, or even a Black girl DJ is gonna play. But actually, no! I’m gonna take you back. Way back. Actually show you something different that’s beyond this current reintroduction of what “house” or whatever actually is. And it’s still Black.
I’m fascinated by all this cuz, as you know, I’m much more of a morning lark, I don’t really get out at night that much. There’s this book that I’ve been meaning to read, a book on film criticism called Artists in the Audience. I guess I’m thinking of it now because I think DJs, like film critics, don’t get their just due as seriously knowledgeable artists in their own right. Like, you in particular are a crate-digging ass person, you really know the music! And it sounds like you’re not given that credit sometimes. You get pigeonholed, is that fair to say? Cuz you be deep in the bowels of the record store [LAUGHTER].
Yes! I know the inner bowels of the music! The loins of the music [LAUGHTER].
[LAUGHTER] Yeah, exactly! You’re an artist tryna exist at the bleeding edge of what’s popular, and then bread-crumbing the audience somewhere they don’t usually go.
Yeah, and that’s the thing. I’ve been thinking about this since I started. When you tell people you’re a DJ, people automatically are like, "Oh, will you do my cousin’s baby shower? Will you do my son’s birthday party?" and stuff like that and I’m like "…I could? But I don’t want to." You know? [LAUGHTER]. People think of it as just a job, and that anybody can do it. And that it’s one size fits all. Right now, we’re in a moment where that’s starting to get broken down. So since early on I’ve been dealing with that fork in the road: do I want to treat it as a job or really pursue it as an art form? And ultimately, I can’t be the one to just come in and just, press play.
And you're saying that's changing? Is that particularly in Philly?
Yeah, it’s changing everywhere but especially in Philly. Audiences are hungrier and smarter and want you to do your homework. For instance with bass down low, we’re playing a lot of Miami bass and juke, and people haven’t been used to listening to that for a while. And it’s been so fun! People have been having fun partying to it. It’s fun to reintroduce these sounds to people.
That leads me to something that I’ve been wanting to ask you about. I haven’t had my finger on the pulse, but before I stopped using socials I was starting to feel like everything was starting to blend together, and that there was no such thing as distinct regional cultures anymore. Like, it was all just one big Internet blob of slang and dances and music. do you still think there’s a such thing as "regional music"?
There’s definitely still regional music going on, but something that I’ve noticed as an issue with that is, particularly in Philly, there’s a lack of reporting going on and music journalism that helps clarify what the boundaries are of the culture that’s being made here. I was recently talking to someone from the Inquirer who was putting together a playlist. And we got to talking about the new wave of dance music that the youth in Philly are making, and how without people documenting it, it’ll easily get swept into the mainstream Internet culture without giving those Philly youth the credit. And it’s hard to do, since things move so fast, but there’s a lack of stenographers to record these things.
I see.
For instance, a friend who I work with on bass down low recently reached out asking me if I know when Club 923 closed. And 923 was a big part of club culture and party music here.
Where was it?
Near Broad and Girard. There’s another club at that location now, Warehouse on Watts, which is way different. They have like, punk shows and goth night and stuff like that there now. And when he asked me about when it closed - and 923 was a bit before my time, so I didn’t know off top - I went to search for it, and there’s literally no trace of Club 923 closing down online. Which is wild to me, how something so important could be lost to history like that. I’d have to track down someone who used to party there to find out. And it wasn’t even that long ago, like damn. It’s become on of those if you know, you know kinda things.
Wow. And as far as the Philly youth thing, you mean like the youngbuls who invented Shake That Shit and Getting Stiff? And the general Jersey club vibe that’s been making a comeback?
Yup, that's right.
And have the white TikTok girls started doing those dances or is it still low key?
Yeah they do!
NO WAY!!!
They do, and they do it better than me! [LAUGHTER] FUCK!!!
[LAUGHTER] BIG FUCK [LAUGHTER]!!!
DAMMIT!!!! [LAUGHTER]
––– THE NEARBY BIKE-LIFERS REV THEIR ENGINES –––
I think I know the answer to this, but what's the difference between the culture around borrowing and sampling music that's very much the bedrock of hip hop, and the way people borrow sounds today?
I mean first off there's a clear racial and class divide. There's a difference between sharing and co-optation. [The process of co-opting] has even become formulaic at this point: pick a cool name that's obscure and Black-sounding - and of course, cool is black - and the names really do sound cool. Like, how did you even get that name, a hip hop name generator? There's this one artist, he's real, but [let's call him] Brickboy Murda. And he's white! And once I found that out, it all clicked because the sounds were, like we talked about earlier, technically proficient to the point of being clinical. Clearly the type of dude who went to engineering school and got his certificate type shit. So it sounds kinda robotic, like you took it and distilled it from its original context. Still, it sounds good sometimes. But the point is, this is the next step in the formula, once you use the cool name [and hide being rich and/or white], after you get passed that threshold of whatever level of success, you change. Then it's "formerly known as Brickboy Murda, I actually go by Daniel now."
[LAUGHTER] Wow. So they ride the wave until it doesn't serve them anymore.
Seriously, you see this so much. The rebranding is blatant. Like, he really shouldn't have been Brickboy Murda in the first place!
This kinda reminds me of the whole "Hands Up Thumbs Down' experience you had, too. Between the two of us, we've probably been to like, 10,000 cookouts in our lives. And so we discover music that way sometimes, in addition to doing deep dives online or in record shops. But for people like them, how are they even able to contextualize the music?
Good question. This reminds me of an experience I had the other day. I was riding the train, and this lady was with her kids, and she had a speaker playing music real loud.
Aw man.
No, no, I wasn't even mad though! Any time somebody new got on the El, within the sphere of the music, she would encourage them to dance. And all different kinda people was coming up and breaking that shit down [LAUGHTER]. And I was like "Wow, that's so cool." And so to answer your question, I'm not sure if those other DJs are contextualizing the music.
I see.
So for me, there's a clear line there between those people who want to be good at music for the sake of being technically good at music, and those of us who want to be good at music for the sake of togetherness.
Damn, you're so right!!! And was it that togetherness that first drew you to wanting to DJ? Can you remember what that first memory was, or what those early experiences were like?
I just remember going to a lot of different events, where the sounds people were playing were making me wanna move. And then me moving made other people wanna move, and I thought that was so cool. But then also, I was listening a lot, and felt like I was discovering these hidden messages in songs, a lot of uplifting and encouraging messages. There are so many songs that sound like God is speaking to you, like "Here you go, I'm right on time." You know? "Keep going, you can get through this." There are so many beautiful songs I can think of that have a message like that, and that helped me in a time of need. And given the circumstances of my life, I've needed those kinds of messages. And not to make everything "Us vs. Them" as far as rich white DJs, but many of them don't need those kinds of messages, so the messages in the music stay hidden to them. Which is something that Black people have done forever, leaving each other clues in music, like a secret code. And so when I'm putting these songs together, it literally becomes a conversation between these different messages. and I'm filling the room with these sound waves, and the people can feel it.
Damn, so it sounds to me almost like you're solving a spiritual puzzle in the room, and if you can get the order of the sounds just right, you can unlock that *THING* for people.
Yes, exactly!!!
Wow, yeah, I gotta come see you play ASAP. I've just been listening to your mixes on my own but there's clearly more going on live. Can you tell me more about bass down low?
Yeah, so I was basically thinking about what was missing on the scene. And I was wanting to understand [the legacy] I was a part of so I could add to it. I didn't just wanna hop on and be a DJ and start making money cuz it's popping or whatever. That’s empty. I wanted to take it seriously, cuz I know this is a very important thing, a very sacred thing like… Controlling the vibe for however long? That’s important. So I was thinking about what I could add, and this particular venue, The Dolphin, approached me and was like "Hey, if you can come up with a , then you can have this night." And I was like “Okay, cool!” It was a very nice thing. And it was a full-circle thing cuz the person that did that for me was a DJ that I used to go and see before I started DJing and I was like "You’re so good!" And I kept up with them. and to have that person be the one to offer me this felt so good!
Do you mind sharing who?
It was Gina! And yeah so I was very much into Miami bass at the time, and I was looking into things that were just beyond our recent memory. Things like Uncle Luke's "I Wanna Rock ", 2 Live Crew - I was like, “This could definitely get people dancing.” And those songs are still getting played, "I Wanna Rock" is getting played, and it’s bringing out all kinds of people! So I figured maybe that’s what’s missing: regional music. That’s how we can fill this space, that’s what I can add - introducing Black music into The Dolphin where they have things like Abba Night and Lady Gaga Night, but there wasn't much like this. So bringing regional club music into the perspective, it even made me better at geography [LAUGHTER]. I had to look at a map! And I can mix regions together too, I don’t just have to play all Chicago house or Detroit techno or Miami bass, [I can] celebrate all these different Black musical movements all at once. Instead of that usual untz, untz, untz that can happen a lot in certain venues. So yeah, that was the idea behind bass down low. I was tryna capture people’s imagination and do something a little different from all the other parties people might go to.
And how long has it been going on?
It’s been a year now. We just had our last one at The Dolphin on Halloween. Hold up, let me show you my penguin costume.
*PULLS UP PENGUIN COSTUME PHOTO*
[LAUGHTER] You snapped!!!
And yeah the people that I collaborate with on bass down low, I work with nail salon and phreakwency, I love our collaboration. And I think all our names are special and cool. Never put the DJ in front [LAUGHTER]. And of course you know why I picked the name "low iron".
You gotta let the people know, this is my claim to fame! [LAUGHTER]
I mean when we were young, like in high school, you and me were gonna start a band called Low Iron!
You heard it here first, folks!!! [LAUGHTER]. That’s a rare fact right there. We were bonding over our poor circulation and realized we both had low iron. I remember designing that logo for us and everything!
[LAUGHTER] And the band could still happen honestly, never say never!
I would love that. Speaking of which, I wanted to ask you: if you could learn to play any instrument, which would you choose?
Ummm… Whenever Muriel used to pull out the sitar in Courage the Cowardly Dog that shit would crack my melon!!! So imma have to go sitar. [LAUGHTER]
[LAUGHTER] Incredible.
–––
A few months later, Tia, Sia, Cass, and I all hopped into my precious 9Runner and rode together to Two Robbers in Fishtown for Tia’s set at FROG RADIO. I couldn’t contain my excitement, I’d finally get to see the artist at work, better yet the friend at play. I braced myself to stay up well past my usual bedtime, and it was well worth it. Her charisma and finesse at the 1s and 2s was a spectacle in itself. My sweat ran, my limbs popped, my spirit sang in a chorus with a hundred strangers.
After Tia’s set, not long into a set by gum.mp3, I crushed some french fries and got ready to drop Tia off at her next gig, at an event called Ordinary World at The 700. It’s not unusual for her to be booked back to back like this, I discovered. She told me, “In this next set, I’ll get to experiment more with the sounds I use. The crowd is a bit more eclectic, so I can let loose.”
And she wasn’t kidding. What I witnessed next was akin to Rock Lee dropping his weights against Gaara . I couldn’t describe to you what I was hearing, but I was suddenly levitating despite my heavy eyelids.
As I sit here now, transcribing our conversation from a cafe in the Little Tokyo neighborhood of Mexico City (at my absolute coolest, really 🇲🇽😎🇯🇵), I’m reminded of something else Tia said to me that night. I had been ranting and raving and singing her praises after her first set. I felt like, despite being a homebody, I finally got it. With a knowing smile, Tia looked at me and said “Zuff, that’s just the tip of the iceberg.”
