Julian Casablancas Embraces The Voidz
Much like whoever tweeted the viral, “I was a Julian Casablancas fan before the Brat remix,” t-shirt design, I too have always been a massive Strokes fan. So the magnitude of sitting across from Casablancas, upstairs at a Lower East Side hotel in September, was significant. We were there to talk about The Voidz — the Casablancas-led band with Jeff Kite (keys) Alex Carapetis (drums), Amir Yaghmai (guitar), Jake Bercovici (bass) and Jeramy “Beardo” Gritter (guitar) — and their album Like All Before You. A brisk 10-track jaunt between genres and immersive sound, the band’s third studio album could only have been created with an imaginative lyricist and ocular polymath like Casablancas slouched in-studio.
The Voidz debut Tyranny was released a decade ago to mixed reviews and cult success, with many critics comparing it to The Strokes discography (its sonic rebellion and melodic chaos made it hard to reference anything else). Watching it live, however, first in 2018 at a tiny Atlanta festival called Shaky Knees and then last Halloween during the band’s Murmrr residency, it became easier to feel in on a stellar secret. Tracks such as “Human Sadness” stimulate the senses like a slow building high. It may be difficult to articulate what you’re experiencing, but it’s a positive one, nonetheless.
The New York band’s second album, 2018’s Virtue, was just as astounding as their first, with sharp lyrics: like “Just because something’s popular, doesn’t mean it’s good” in “Permanent High School” or “I want out of this world” in “Pink Ocean”— and a more symphonic bend. So where The Voidz would head for their third album was anybody’s guess. However, from the album’s instrumental opener “Overture,” which dramatically plays as if suggesting a ceremony is about to begin, you can hear they’ve landed in the right place.
At the time of our interview, it was unknown that Casablancas’ vocals would be featured on the Charli XCX Brat remix album. “Mean girls featuring julian casablancas” has since stirred up online discourse, from fans of the New York rocker who are thrilled about his contribution to listeners dissecting the meaning of his line, “Fucked in a fun way we get/ Kept it vague so you could guess.” Four years have also passed since The Strokes released their album, The New Abnormal, with plenty of press and fanfare in the time between, so we kept our focus to Like All Before You, out everywhere now.
Ahead of the band’s two sold-out shows at Los Angeles’ The Orpheum and New York City’s Apollo, PAPER spoke to Julian Casablancas about The Voidz, AI and working hard to make it all seem effortless.
Thanks for taking the time to chat.
No problem.
I’m really excited about the album.
Thank you.
Typically, I listen to an album once before an interview, but this is definitely a playlist-worthy album. It’s been a while since Tyranny was released in 2014, a decade. So for The Voidz, how has the approach to making music in general or putting together an album changed?
It was our first record, so we were figuring each other out and now we know each other really well. I think… [gets distracted by music playing in the background] Is it better to have quiet for an interview?
Honestly, I’m down for both. It was kind of nice.
I’ll just play it on my phone.
Love that you have your own bar up here. Also that we can see right into people’s windows.
That’s New York. Are you from here?
I’m from South Carolina. I moved here in 2018.
Charlottesville?
No that’s Virginia. Charlotte is in North Carolina though.
Oh wait. Myrtle Beach.
The fact that you know where that is… scary. What do you know about Myrtle Beach?
Biker week. Black Biker Week.
Yes, and weird amusement parks. We used to vacation there at these trashy resorts that I thought were really nice until I got older. We would try to get into the bars.
Sounds fun. I’ve never been, but I have a friend.
You’ve got to bring The Voidz tour to Myrtle Beach.
Sounds… cool?
So we were talking about 2014.
The process of recording is probably my least favorite topic. The process is good, but the topic… it’s like putting a puzzle together. “I put the corners first.” It’s just not fun to talk about making a puzzle. It’s like, “You put the greens there and the yellows there.” Is there one that you prefer? Sorry.
I get that. It’s hard for people who aren’t making albums to understand how you come up with a finished project without being like, “Okay, how exactly did it happen?” But I get what you’re saying.
Well, how do you write an article?
Oh God, that’s a hard one. I do the research, obviously. Sometimes, I start from the end or an excerpt I like and then write around it. But it’s different every time. Sometimes it just happens.
Okay, well, what is the question that you would like to be asked if you were interviewed?
If I was asked about my writing process–
It doesn’t have to be about your writing process. It can be about anything.
I guess what I enjoy about any certain topic? What’s the reason I keep doing it? Why do I keep writing? Or, why do I live in New York as opposed to somewhere else? The driving source of the decision to do something?
So, what’s the question exactly?
What’s the driving reason to create? What personally makes you want to make music?
What personally makes me want to make music? What makes you personally want to write?
Honestly, I love to do it. It feels good to do it. I’ve always done it. Even if no one read it, I would still be doing it like when I was a kid. I do enjoy putting it out there and having people interact with it. But even if people weren’t interacting with it, I would still be doing something with writing.
Cool, I don’t know if I have that same passion.
Yeah?
Probably more for politics or for wrangling people with talents that I think can do cool things together.
Is that how you feel The Voidz were initiated? Just getting cool people together?
I was starting over in some ways, so it’s been a long process. But maybe.
People hone in on lines all the time and the ones that are special to me are usually not the ones people focus in on.
What was it that drew you all back into the studio to do Like All Before You? Why go ahead and release a body of work, as opposed to singles or as opposed to doing just shows?
The same question? Why do we do things that we do?
Specifically to release music, though.
Someone gave us a contract. [Laughs] If we didn’t have a contract, we’d probably just put the songs out anyway. Try to figure out how to not waste things you put out, in terms of what’s lucrative. If you can put out 10 songs and make $10, or put out 10 songs and get $0, you try to do it the $10 way. So it’s a mixture of just putting music out and trying to do it in a way that is popular or successful, so that you can eventually make money or tour.
Speaking of touring, I got to check out last year’s Halloween residency, which was very immersive. What was the ideation behind that? Why did you want to do something that felt more a party, as opposed to a typical show?
So why do we do things? [Laughs] I’m kidding. I guess we wanted to play a concert.
But I got a tarot reading, I went to an arcade.
It was a Halloween show I’ve always wanted to do. We did it for the video, like a ’80s Halloween costume party. The coolest haunted houses I’ve ever been to are the shittiest, so we didn’t do a haunted house vibe. I originally wanted to do that, a full labyrinth where people come out and scare you, but having old-time jazz afterward and that after party vibe was really my favorite part. But it happened to fall on Halloween, so we tried to make it special. This old synagogue had all these extra rooms. These arcade people offered us their arcade games. A lot of things fell into place and we tried to make it a fun evening.
You have a show coming up at the Orpheum in LA and at the Apollo in Harlem. Those are thoughtful choices. Why those venues?
They were kind of the perfect size for what we were looking for. It was actually hard to find a venue in New York because Radio City is almost too big, and then Irving Plaza is kind of too small. And I just want to make it special. The Knockdown Center was offered it to us. You have your dream places and then you have the reality of the situation you have to deal with. So sometimes you’re stuck with what you got. And if you have options or cool things come up, then that’s lucky and fun. If we could have an after party at the Cotton Club, that would be the cherry on top.
You worked with Ivan Wayman, Justin Raisen and SADPONY [Jeremiah Raisen] on the album, and it feels like The Voidz collaborate really well with each other. Is it hard to find producers that don’t conflict with the process you have as a band? How do you seek out people that you know will add to the sound, as opposed to fuck with it?
It’s trial and error, I guess. We were going for a bigger sound and maybe what they did was different, or what Justin did, I should say, was different. So we worked backwards from that a little bit, and Ivan is someone that we worked with for a long time and who we get in the trenches and do stuff with together, very collaboratively. So I would say the Raisen brothers were more of the big production stuff at a big studio, and we used a lot of that, but then afterward, with Ivan, we went through everything and made it all Voidzy.
How do you make it Voidzy?
It’s a new way of capturing all the lighting in bottles, but also capturing the effortlessness and spontaneity and first-take magic. It’s this constant exercise of working hard to make it seem effortless. I guess that’s what creates, hopefully, mind-blowing energy, which is like, “Wow, they just stumbled in.” I’ve been trying to do that since the beginning.
I have to ask about “Prophecy of the Dragon.” The thrashing guitar part is so great. I’m curious, lyrically, what were you trying–
Cool tattoo.
Thanks, which one? The Playboy one?
The Playboy one and the star.
Yeah, I have a lot of star situations. Stars orbiting people’s heads.
What’s that one?
A girl that’s a planet.
Cool, with a braid.
Yeah. Are the lyrics in “Prophecy of the Dragon” about interpersonal change? That line, “I used to be a lounge lizard/ Now look at me, I’m a wizard.” Am I being too deep about it?
Playing with lyrics… all art. I’m sure for your writing too, it’s pieces of things that you’ve read or liked, or trying to recreate the vibe of everything you’re putting out. I don’t know, why do I do the things I do? I’m just kidding.
I asked him the same question 15 times. That’s the subtitle.
That specific line, the “lounge lizard” thing and “now look at me, a wizard” is probably a later rhyming construction. It felt like a cheesy biographical rock song. Also, we played in a small venue when we were fucking around and working on the song. But that’s not how I have always thought of myself. I mean, it’s the truth, I guess. We used to play in small places, and now we do all kinds of videos and things that create these illusions that make us seem better than we are in some ways. I guess that’s all I meant. People hone in on lines all the time and the ones that are special to me are usually not the ones people focus in on. I was thinking of a random song the other day, and I was thinking of the line that I love about it and the lines that people always talk about.
What was the song?
Was it “When Will the Time of These Bastards End”? Was it that song? Shit, it’ll come later.
How do these lyrics come to you? Do they just pop in your head when you’re watching TV, or are you writing them down when you’re in the middle–
It was “7 Horses.” For me, it’s more about the chorus and the “save it for the battle” line. I like the song, but then I feel people might take the line [“But if I could beg you maybe stop punishing me”] the random emotional line that I think is filler. People might be like, “This is him being raw and sad,” and it’s like no.
That’s the scariest thing: someone reading their album review and being like, what is she talking about?
Oh I don’t, it’s fine.
Was there a moment in the studio when you felt like everything was coming together?
It’s a good question, actually, but I’m bad at summoning these things. The truth is, it comes together way after it’s done in my mind. I’m so in the trenches and I can barely understand what I’m working on by the end. It was really fucking powerful for me and cool to hear the record recently because every part, every chorus, you’re getting to the end of it and there’s a moment where you’re like, “That’s cool, that feels powerful.” And you keep it, and you move on. It’s like a mosaic of all these things. You listen to it a few days later, and you’re like, “Oh, this line sounded cheesy or weird,” but really you have no idea. So I listened to it the other day for the first time and it’s probably because it has personal meaning, not because it’s good or anything, but I definitely listened to the whole record and almost teared. Seeing it with a bird’s eye view, it’s like, “Oh my God. It’s all come together.” Even the album name and the song at the beginning, at the end.
Yeah, I like “Overture.” It feels like a ceremony starting.
It’s a concept you don’t think about, but when you hear it objectively that’s when it all comes together. There were moments where I was saying, “Yeah that’s cool,” but in terms of knowing it was working, probably three days ago.
I want people to be tearfully inspired to better themselves in the world in a positive, light-hearted, not too serious, happy way.
Is that common for you?
Very common. Sometimes I don’t even understand what lyrics mean until 10 years later. I’ll listen and be like, “Oh shit.” It’s like, “That’s what it means and it’s so much cooler than I consciously remembered.” But at the time you know something is good because you know it’s working on two or four levels.
The album doesn’t sound like anything else. It takes your brain in one direction and you don’t know what’s gonna happen next. Have you always been able to do that as a band? Go in all of those different directions seamlessly?
We’ve naturally been able to, but to do it on a record is trickier because there’s the editing process. It’s like movie editing. That’s what really makes or breaks a movie, and there are a billion choices to be made or that could be made. From the beginning of The Voidz to now, there has been a little bit of an arch for me in terms of how I view albums.
And I think there are two ways: I don’t listen to albums, I just listen to different songs. I listen to a jazz song, an African song, a heavy metal song, an old-timey country song. I go all over the place. I wanted albums to sound like mixtapes a little bit. Virtues, specifically, almost felt like a mixtape. Tyranny, I wanted to do that, but Shawn Everett had his own Godspeed You! Black Emperor vision of aggressive dark distortion vibes that follows through the whole thing.
Ironically I’ve gotten into listening to albums from YouTube, because I used to not listen to albums. So I do like the cohesiveness of albums, but I also like the genre-bending thing. And we do naturally have that when we jam: we do a jazz thing, and then play a hip-hop thing, so the carousel within a cohesive, I guess, is the indirect goal, but both are in mind. I don’t know if I answered that?
You did, it’s the carousel and cohesion.
Carousel of cohesion. I should of just said that.
I also wanted to ask about “Square Wave.” It starts off the album right after “Overture” in a really strong way. You talked about not necessarily listening to full albums, but were you very specific about the track order?
Yes, we had different track orders that I thought were good, then I’d listen and there were always issues. It’s kind of hard to know what those issues are. Could be anything between similar or clashing vibes, or too many happy songs, too many dark songs, or too many slow songs. It’s spacing out the more aggressive songs for this one, making it feel new, because some people knew some of the songs. So you don’t want to make it front-heavy with the old songs. This one felt like it did everything and worked and moved powerfully and gave you what you were ready for at each turn.
The album doesn’t insult your ability to follow along. Speaking of people listening to the album or how they’ll hear it–
How will people dance to this? The most undanceable songs of all time.
People interpretive dancing to “Overture.”
Movies used to have these. I had just seen Gone With the Wind for the first time and it starts with an overture. Classical pieces or ballets or whatever the hell. It literally means, “Opening,” get to your seat. I think people are listening to it like a song. It was originally a guitar solo idea, anyway.
It gets you ready for what’s about to happen. How are people are receiving it, specifically fan comments around the AI cover art. You had this hilarious response, “The original art we wanted to use artists wanted to charge $150,000; what is this, 1988?” I wanted to get your thoughts on this in general. This idea that people seem to be really passionate about.
I really stepped into it. I had no idea I had been loving AI art. It just seemed cool, I was enjoying my little hobby and the irony was that it wasn’t even like, “Take that artists.” It wasn’t thought out in any way, shape or form. I had no idea that there was even a resistance to it, because I my feed is probably half real and half AI art. I really love what it’s done to design, because I feel like design was so stagnant. The deeper conversation of the integrity and all that, fine. It’s worthy of a deeper thing that I wasn’t trying to get into. I’m not making a statement. My first instinct is, always prioritize. There are so many basic things we need to be getting together first.
Speaking of AI, I asked ChatGPT what questions to ask Julian Casablancas and it said to ask you, “Why do people make things?” I’m kidding. But the question was, “When people hear your music, how do you want them to feel?”
That’s ironic that AI is asking about feelings. I want people to be tearfully inspired to better themselves in the world in a positive, light-hearted, not too serious, happy way.
Photography: Ryan King
Much like whoever tweeted the viral, “I was a Julian Casablancas fan before the Brat remix,” t-shirt design, I too have always been a massive Strokes fan. So the magnitude of sitting across from Casablancas, upstairs at a Lower East Side hotel in September, was significant. We were there to talk about The Voidz —…