Using computers and a boyish sense of mischief, Milo creates space age bachelor pad rap songs for kids who think Spock > Kirk. Or for the kids who even catch that reference. He’s been called the champion of Nerd Hop, consistent creator of auditory Art Rap, we’re not concerned with the genre, we just admire the work he’s putting out there. Art Nouveau recently caught up with the 20-year-old emcee for a riveting conversation that covered everything from Nas’ Illmatic, his admiration for Schopenhauer and his upcoming project Milo Takes Baths.

Art Nouveau Magazine: You’re currently based in Wisconsin, How’d you end up there? What’s the indie rap scene like there?

Milo: As a kid, my Pops moved around a lot– my parents are divorced, so I’ve lived in Illinois, Maine, New Hampshire, and finally Wisconsin. The indie rap scene here is nonexistent and of course when I go on record with that statement I will receive a barrage of dudes ready to impale me, but it’s the truth. The scene here is pretty static, and it seems like the same set of dudes have a monopoly on what goes on here. That being said, I don’t really participate much in it. As a student it’s infinitely more convenient for me to by-pass the local drudgery and politics and shoot songs online before I dip to my Asian Philosophy course.

“Nas’ Illmatic is the greatest rap album of all time. That’ll probably be my #1 lyrical inspiration. Nas is not my favorite rapper by any means, nor has he ever been. But Illmatic is a perfect album, flawless, his style on that album is beyond me still.”

AN: Your real name is Rory Ferreira, but you perform under the nom de plume, Milo. Where did the name come from?

Milo: Pulling out my government name! Okay, I can dig. Rap names are important. Without breaking into a really long treatise on language and how it maps the human reality, let me say that anyone who is trying to create realities should really think about names. Milo comes from The Phantom Tollbooth by Norton Juster which is a neat book that you read once every 8 years or so and have a nice introspective moment to. Milo is this sort of every-person character who finds all the things boring. He’s taken on this adventure of wicked tasty wordplay and comes back all the better for it. I feel like Milo.

AN: Tell me about your project I wish my brother Rob was here. What was the initial story behind it?

Milo: A friend of mine drowned in a public pool this past Summer. I was working on a tape prior to that, and when it happened I couldn’t really find anything substantial I could do to make my world feel better. So I scrapped the tape I was developing and started working on this one, which I sort of co-opted the name from Del’s debut cut. All the recording, mixing, and mastering was done by myself in my room at school… and it was pretty rushed. I found the beats online, mostly through forums, and they were ones that typically rap dudes had shimmy’d away from. Which made them instantly attractive. I tried my hardest to double and triple credit the producers I borrowed from or edited from, but it’s surprising how many people think I produced the mixtape. If I had it would have cost you the big bucks– like, General Tso’s Tofu money.

AN: Were you surprised with the initial support the project has received?

Milo: Overwhelmed would be the word I’d use. Especially when the emails started pouring in. Reading about cats the world over who had dealt with a lot of the same mental blocks I have, or social stigmas and how these people felt equally neglected by contemporary music. The blog stuff is cool, and obviously that’s how people find out about the tape. I’m eternally grateful to those taste-makers who gave my tape a chance and subsequently set pace for other blogs to catch up. But really, the most significant and surprising aspect of this project has been the individual interaction with other *nerdy* people.

“I think there is definitely a place for nerdcore, and I love a lot of the stuff coming out of that camp, but there also needs to be a place where we can genuinely express the frustration of always being at odds with the majority of the people around us without making appeals to cartoonish behaviors.”

AN: What’s your definition of NERD hop?

Milo: See, that was the first genre I was operating under. But now, I’d say it’s more like self help hop/computerized soul folk. Which are two titles a pal of mine sent me from an art exhibit in Chicago. Anyway, Nerd-Hop is similar to nerdcore but instead of making caricatures of nerdiness or awkwardness or intelligence I feel like nerd hop is a more genuine depiction. But I don’t mean to pick on my brothers operating under the nerdcore moniker, which is why I’ve since graduated into the aforementioned two. I think there is definitely a place for nerdcore, and I love a lot of the stuff coming out of that camp, but there also needs to be a place where we can genuinely express the frustration of always being at odds with the majority of the people around us without making appeals to cartoonish behaviors. Pardon me if that in anyway comes off as egotistical. I’m not saying I’ve perfected what I’m talking about, but I am aware of what I want to do and am trying to achieve that. No shade on anyone else’s marmalade.

AN: You are a DIY advocate with a strong focus on computer driven work, how do you juggle wearing multiple hats and taking care of your craft?

Milo: To me they are all part of the same craft which is this quest to find Truth. I’m from a heavily video game influenced generation, obviously, and especially within MMORPGs such as Ultima Online, the quest never ended. It was indefinite. I think that the DIY aspect comes out of that because it gives me an opportunity to be more honest. When I’ve been in studios with other people, I feel myself conforming and that’s not at all what I want for Milo projects. Eventually I’d like to get to the point where a Milo tape is completely done in-house by myself, but I need to hone my beatsmithy before that point. To recap: I’m not convinced that there are multiple hats and crafts, it all sort of falls under this umbrella of trying to find genuine, honest expression that doesn’t sell itself short. Now I’m going to pull my head out of my own fancy-aesthetic arsehole, so to speak.

AN: Who are some of your lyrical inspirations?

Milo: Great writing. I read a lot of philosophy and I tend to be long winded because of that. Schopenhauer is a tremendous lyrical inspiration. He’s prone to really wicked and wild analogies. David Foster Wallace’s eye for seemingly mundane detail, that’s a major inspiration. Nas’ Illmatic is the greatest rap album of all time. That’ll probably be my #1 lyrical inspiration. Nas is not my favorite rapper by any means, nor has he ever been. But Illmatic is a perfect album, flawless, his style on that album is beyond me still.

AN: What’s next for you?

Milo: Finishing up my next mixtape, Milo takes Baths. Which is me rapping over only Baths instrumentals that I pilfered off the Internet. I’m hoping it makes me more friends than enemies. After that? I’m not too sure. I’d like to get more heavy into production, but it’s difficult because in Northern Wisconsin there are no notable beatsmiths to learn from. So I’m watching a lot of YouTube tutorials and whatnot, making slow but steady headway. This is all still pretty new to me. Trying to open dialogue with some label folks, and balance a decent GPA, basically.

AN: Is there anything else you’d like to mention?

Milo: As banal as it is everytime I read this when some other person says it: support weirdo creations. Keep it funky at all times.

It’s that critical moment that every music journalist ventures into. It happens when we get an artist worth digging. We slide our hand underneath the desk to whip out that hideous facial mask of a straight-faced, grade school teacher with red ink in hand ready to carve our music reviews into someone’s membrane. Taking the time to ride the Voyeur voyage was a pleasant treat as it suited perfectly with the rain Gods deciding to pour down some cleansing wash on good music and his Texas land, of course. The music produced by Childish Major with the vocals to match under Rome Fortune’s belt creates an upcoming groove that falls closely to acts like DJ Shadow and Danny Breaks rave crave. The electric boogie definitely comes to light with the duo along with a hint of Atlanta’s rap recipe, but the two are truly doing something astray from other artists emerging in the mix.

This electric left-field relationship between the two young men is definitely worth listening to. It’s a total different scenario from the usual southern, Atlanta rap crews. Childish Major brings his eclectic style of intelligently mixing electric, future 2042 sounds with straight head-nodding, dirty beats of hip hop. It’s a bit of cinnamon and a bit of spice, literally. Major is like a mini Kanye who loves to exert different electric drums and then switch it up with live percussion and snare. As a listener who goes straight for the killer critique of a descent beat (I like my beat super hard by the way), kudos and much respect to the brains behind the production. The engineer can never catch enough credit for quality-earned beats.  The producer has a few good words for his brother-like figure too. “Rome has definitely schooled me on lots of things. I respect him as an artist and a person.  He is without a doubt, a game changer.  I really believe in the moves he chooses to make,” says Childish Major.

The first track of the Voyeur EP, “Drugs to School Children,” automatically catches heat because it’s simply the introduction and sets the tone for the rest of the tracks. The drums set the smooth, laid-back vibe style which is often heard throughout the rest of the album. In this song, “drugs” could easily relate to the heartbreaker mentality of girls or the result a break-up from that one girl. Either way, Rome Fortune speaks some truth by suggesting not rushing into something with a hoochie, and his pride won’t up the ground along with his feelings.

“Other” and “Filter” seem to find themselves on repeat with iTunes as I genuinely dig instrumentals of nothing but pure sounds and noises. A mellowed out blend with blusters of fixed arrangements of music sounds pretty damn good, like waking up to birds on the most beautiful day outside. “Other” is a definite space voyage that could make Gnarls Barkley’s Pandora station or Madlib’s. “Filter” suggests more of a sensual blend between Prince and the Dream’s first album, and something for the ladies to unwind to. That’s a hint, my men. “Wanted” and “Jesus, Gouda” are your ride-out in the city of east Decatur songs. That slight Atlanta rap peaks out and the beat is laid down.

Voyeur’s EP is scheduled to dropped January 30 and with much anticipation, we support the movement. “I want the audience to experience something unusual, accept it, and relate. Be inspired if nothing else,” says Major. The producer goes on to joke that the “Voyeur EP is mysterious and sexy, like a one night stand with a stranger.”

voyeurEP(demo) by RomeFortuneSmallWorld

The lights are flashing, and if you are what you say you are, or if you’re just out here trying to survive, you’ll understand Spree Wilson’s new track “King Sh*t” featuring singer/songwriter Novel. Skittering drums and cinema. Orchestras and epicness. “My train of thought is like a modern Michelangelo,” Spree raps with a delivery exact as a matter of fact.

“King Shit (The Answer)” is the first offering for Spree’s upcoming debut project The Spark. Below is one of the best lyric videos we have ever seen done on just an I-Phone. This clip was directed by Hectah.

Nicki Minaj is the pre-eminent female MC of Generation Now. She’s a massive attack on the senses; scorching eardrums with fire-breathing vocals, and blinding corneas with neon-shine vestments – and it’s all at once. She’s so pink you can taste it – a Blow Pop, scattered, chopped, and cooked up by a local street vendor on the Brooklyn block: pank; young culture’s saccharin-infused quarter water: Pank pop. Hype, hair, and hyperimmediacy with hood-pass in hand – she is the pop face of urban misses.

Her style is a snapshot; an urban blender mixing and matching gutter gear with cosmopolitan couture – pose, a harder Harajuku girl posted on the corner of Tokyo-chic and Harlem-beast – pose, a cracked mirror brightly reflecting what’s left of iconic Barbie’s shattered remains – pose, the Young Money queenpin reigning supreme beneath a neon crown – pose, an amazonian commander-in-chief sitting shotgun rocking steady in pink – pose.

Her sound bites eardrums, breaks vinyl, and borders on schizophonia. One minute she’s a soprano-pitched Valley Girl with a bubblegum Swiss Army tongue, and the next she’s laying down lines colder than Weezy’s grill, with the bassment boss swelter of Biggie Smalls. In any given moment, she’ll switch gears like a Maserati, as she blesses every track with her manic John Hancock signature flow. Her records are deviant dialogues between a milieu of manic personalities; line-by-line she throws ventriloquist vocals across a cerebral sonicscape – from Roman Zolansky to Onika, Nicki stands somewhere in between.

Her status stands as the modern matriarch of hip-hop; the princess at the pulse. Vibrant histories of female supremacy in the midst of a male-dominated world set the backdrop of Little Miss Minaj; yet it is that that very well of cultural ancestry which drowns her own independence. When we see Nicki, we see the elements that came before her: Kim, Missy, Foxy, MC Lyte, Queen Latifah, Eve… These females MCs reigned supreme by creating new standards for the urban female identity. We, however, are blessed with the curse of having seen it all before; and Nicki Minaj is the first female MC to come to fruition in the midst of modernity – those very pillars of the past, are the same shackles barring her from the big breakthrough. Here we see Neo-Nefertiti and Contempo-Cleopatra, Barbie and Harajuku Girls – but where is Nicki? It’s not enough to be the new version of a classic; it’s about being the classic version of something new. Minaj’s sarcophagus, that of shadows past, is what holds her back; she has yet to break past the hyperzeitgeist status of Don-Diva-du-jour. Du jour is of the fashion, du jour is here today and gone tomorrow, and for an artist the challenge is to make du jour last forever.

"Nicki 2," Mixed Media Collage, 2010 by GreatEclectic

There’s something about Minaj that just doesn’t sink in, though; she’s so Hood-Pop – she is so vocally hip-hop and street, but so visibly bubblegum pink Pop. More so than past female MCs, Minaj veers towards the artifice; but more so than current, and past, pop acts, she verges towards the hard – but in that void she finds an interesting niche. Her biggest flaw, and arguably biggest deterrent to the big breakthrough, is her lack of definition. She’s not GaGa or Ke$ha because she’s too urban, she’s not Missy or Eve because she’s too pop produced; but (shout to @pmablog) griping about a pop’s overproduction, is like complaining that rap is too misogynistic, or that experimental is too weird – we get it, that’s the point, and Minaj is a fusion of the three. Moreover though, she’s too much of everything/everyone, and not enough of anything.

Once she breaks through the blur, unleashes the monster behind the mirage, and cements her own bonafide aesthetic – then the kings can watch the queen conquer. Therein lies the battle ahead: between the one who performs in living color, and the character who is living color: #nickibewhoyouwannabe

Growing up in New York City’s emerging uptown neighborhood of Washington Heights to Dominican immigrant parents, M. Tony Peralta was seemingly born a child of the hip-hop generation. As a teenager, his eye shifted to graffiti and the work of New York downtown artist Keith Haring. At age 17, Peralta transferred his own artwork onto t-shirts, which he sold in his neighborhood. Years later, the 35-year-old artist/graphic designer is still pushing t-shirts but to a broader audience.

You may not know it, but you’ve seen Peralta’s t-shirts and prints in television shows like How to Make it in America and blockbuster films like The Hangover 2. More recently the artist saw his latest exhibition Complejo open to a crowd of 200+ in Miami during this year’s Art Basel. Using clever typography and graphic choices the exhibition was an exploration into what it means to be “latino and black.” Take a closer look at more images from the opening below.

I’ve been bumping Kosha Dillz‘s “Sweatpants Song” since he sent it to us a month ago. The Shuko and Fonty produced track is off his EP, Gina and The Garage Sale now on iTunes. Directed by Robbie Barclay, the video finds Kosha celebrating every lazy person’s favorite garment. This is fresher than a piece of paper bearing his name.

Watch This Space:

After our chat, I got it. Def Sound isn’t just a rapper, he’s a rapper that thinks like a painter. His approach, his output, demeanor and sound are all influenced by some of the same Art and Aesthetic aces we write about daily on Art Nouveau. A Rapper, excuse me, artist like that isn’t going to be your typical run of the mill.
“I was obsessed with Dali at the time,” Def Sound confesses. This heavy influence of visual art on his rhymes also has a deeper meaning and purpose. Def Sound frequents visual inspiration sites like FFFFound.com and Butdoesitfloat.com during the day. Part adoration, and part fascination, to him visual artists are respected more than rappers. “I want to make music that is so good it could be hung up in a gallery…I can’t draw, but I can draw lyrics,” he says before a quick laugh.
It’s no wonder Def Sound has found himself in good artistic company with the likes of Nikko Gray, Afta-1 and LA indie darlings J*DaVeY. Admittedly a huge fan of J*DaVeY, Def Sound met the duo a year and half ago through a mutual friend.
“A friend suggested, you and Brook should link up,” he says. Initially he was “nervous” meeting a band he’d obsessed over musically for a while. After sending music to Brook, with no response, chances of the connection seemed dim. Now a year later he’s working alongside the duo on multiple projects and has been afforded the opportunity to tour the country with them.

Like J*DaVeY, Def Sound is an artist that marches to the beat of his own drum machine. Anything that slightly bends the mold garners some resistance. He recalls a recent encounter at an unnamed Atlanta studio where listeners didn’t “get it.”
“They were hearing, but not hearing it,” he says with a sigh. “Everyone wants to label you, you might as well label yourself.” This prompted Def Sound to give a title to his sound, he dubbed it Trillwave. It’s a sound that Def Sound has pegged as his own, according to him, the main ingredients are that “it’s real, and it feels good.” We talk more of quirky song structures he’s attempting in newer works and nights spent in the studio recording from midnight until 5 a.m.
“When you’re been afforded the opportunity to solely create for a living, I don’t ever want to take that for granted,” Def elaborates on his mad-man like approach to productivity.

Looking forward Def Sound is ready to drop his upcoming project. The cliche for an artist is to say this is the best thing they’ve ever done. And Def Sound is aware of this, and puts out the disclaimer before telling me, this is “The best thing I’ve ever made.” Listening to his recently released mixtape “oooooH!thee.bitchtape” I can’t help but agree.

This Story appears in Issue #6: Kind of Blue available now via Magcloud.