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HIPPY MAFIA
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by
Patrick Finch
March 4 - 10, 2010 |
 “Manchester, Berlin, Beatles, break beats, 1986, Puma sweats, Yoko, Lauryn, Mos Def, Brooklyn, Trinidad, Man. U, Man. City, Marcus Garvey, chips and peas, Lake Superior, Gil Scott–Heron, The Boathouse, and BlackBerry Messenger,” explains the always poetic Michael Dainjah of his new group’s influences. The Hippy Mafia are that group, a band with strong beliefs, stronger material and, without hyperbole, an historical marriage of players. Dainjah, by happenstance and almost certainly fate, was plucked from his suburban Kitchener home (but should you ask him, his home is in Berlin) by a man named Gary Whelan. If you don’t know the name, you’re forgiven. If you pride yourself on your knowledge of Brit-pop, Baggy, or Factory Records, you know Whelan as Gaz, songwriter and percussion prodigy of the great drug-fueled Hacienda madmen, The Happy Mondays. Gaz, the Ryder brothers, et al. have been quiet for some time, with the Ryders’ reputation as unreliable hell–raisers doggedly preceding them. Gaz has tired of this rep and is eager to show the world that his talents extend beyond working to keep the Mondays’ rhythms tight and their melodies flowing.
“The Mondays had become shackles I couldn’t shake off,” Gaz tells me from the Manchester, U.K. studio where he and Dainjah are finishing up some tracks. “As a songwriter the Mondays was rewarding, both financially and creatively. But live, and with all the other nonsense, I was constantly pissing in the fuckin’ wind. It can close doors, as people expect me to be this kind of rock n’ roll animal who is unreliable and awkward, which couldn’t be further from the truth. I’ve been no fuckin’ angel, but I was the one who always had to be semi–coherent and hold everything together from the start. It taught me a lot business wise, but it became a burden.”
Tired of waiting for the Mondays to mobilize, Gaz set about writing tunes with a handful of cohorts (most notably Paul “Bonehead” Arthurs, formerly of Oasis. Yeah. Fucking Oasis). Not just some tunes either; some truly inspired songs. Deep, groin grooving beats, sensual melodies, Lennon–McCartney harmonies, roaring guitars, and attitude. Shitloads of brash, British attitude. When he came to Hamilton, Ontario to work on a few things at Dan Achen’s gorgeous Catherine North Studios, he suddenly found himself without a singer. After wondering aloud exactly where he was going to find someone, right this minute, with the chops to come in and deliver on rock, soul, hip hop, and funk tracks, Achen reportedly offered, “Uh, I know a guy.” Michael Dainjah, as fate would have it, had grown close to the producer after his late group (dance floor revolution rousers Jen Militia), recorded their lone effort in his cavernous converted church. When he got the call, he did not hesitate.
“Jen Militia and the Hippy Mafia have been climbing the same mountain from different sides for years,” Dainjah ruminates from the other side of the world. “Many Souljahs have fallen on this long quest to merge grace and gangsta. When the pure of heart reached the summit we discovered a miracle: the holy grail was us. Love is still the First Revolution.
“The gospel is all Beatles and break beats. What if John Lennon and Lauryn Hill got married and had a studio instead of babies? Harmonies to the heavens. The electronic noise of postmodern man. And the poet trapped by, and reveling in, the only thing worth knowing: that we know nothing.”
Such is the modus operandi of the Hippy Mafia; unlikely marriages birthing unheard–of beauty. The songs manage to be distinctly British (without the accent), urban, ecstatic and elastic. They contain tossed off – unintentional or not – homages to touchstones like “Screamadelica”, “Definitely Maybe”, “Maxinquaye”, and “Fool’s Gold”, but belong to none of them. It’s a work in progress, but it’s shaping up to be a life’s work. A masterpiece. A stroll through their many psychedelic brainsex YouTube videos is a good place to start getting yourself acquainted.
“The Hippy Mafia is the first 360 degree band, which means all the senses will be mobilized,” Dainjah says of the multi–media approach. “What you hear is just a sprinkling before the tide. New audio soundbombs are already engineered and being deployed at myspace.com/TheHippyMafia. No new wine in old bottles. We have begun la dolce stil nuovo. The new vintage. To drunk the ears of the faithful.”
At the moment, much of this new vintage must be distilled via laptops and BlackBerries, given the geographical unlikelihood of this lusty marriage, but Canadian Music Week is as good a chance as any for the group to physically galvanize. And really, if you’re playing Toronto, you might as well play around the GTA a bit. When Dainjah revisits former triumphant battle grounds like the Starlight and the Casbah this month, he intends to banish any legacy with the vitality of the new.
“Sonically and visually it will be biblical,” he says. “Sweeping soundscapes of energy matched with the projected subconscious of the 21st century. We intend to make a statement strong as death and sweet as love.”
“The Hippy Mafia isn’t a project,” Gaz says emphatically. “It’s our life now! The king is dead! Long live the king!”
HIPPY MAFIA
Friday, March 12, 2010
CASBAH
306 King Street West
qmyspace.com/thehippymafia
thehippymafia.com
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