Theo Croker is a ‘Catalyst for Action’

News, From the Magazine, Theo Croker, Kassa Overall

By Gary Fukushima I Jun. 13, 2019

The development of *Star People Nation*—the first album in which Theo Croker has sole producer credit—involved an 18-month journey to both U.S. coasts and multiple recording studios, where he played auxiliary keyboards and synths, crafted electronic and acoustic beats, incorporated samples and wrote lyrics to be sung by himself and special guests.
(Photo: Steve Sussman)

Was there a musical reason to relocate to L.A., too?

Eventually, yeah. When I got here, first of all, I realized there were a lot of cats living in L.A. who I thought were still living in New York. Chris Dave is my neighbor. Gerald Clayton lives out here. I don’t want to put people on blast who don’t announce it ... but all of a sudden, we’re like, “You live in L.A.?” We needed a Rolodex of cats in L.A. who were living in New York.

it’s almost like a little bubble of New York that’s here now.

Exactly. It’s tricky, ’cause once you get embedded in the jazz scene in New York, there’s very few places on that level, for jazz. So, I didn’t come to L.A. to be like, “Yeah, I’m going to play in the jazz scene.” I need something different. I’m interested in visual arts, in performance art. There’s just a lot more going on out here.

What’s your overall take on the scene here?

Technically, I live here, and I’ve started to perform here. I’m not on the scene, in the sense that I’m not out here hustling for gigs. If something dope comes about, I’ll do it. [L.A. has] got a vibe. It really started when I met Chris [Dave] in China in 2017. His band was playing at the same festival as me, so we were both there for a week, in the same hotel. [Later, in L.A.] I just ran into him at a show. He was like, “You came into town and didn’t call me!” I was like, “I’m in L.A.; I live here!” He was like, “I live here, too.” Find out we’re neighbors. He calls me all the time: “Yo, we’re goin’ to so-and-so’s studio.” He really showed me the studio scene. A lot of the hang started with people outside of jazz.

So, Chris Dave kind of got you into some other circles here?

Yeah. I remember I had a conversation with him once: I was like, “Man, I don’t know if I’m feelin’ L.A. I’m kinda bored.” He was like, “Oh, no, we’re changing that!. The next day he called me at 8:30 or 9 in the morning: “Yo, meet me at this time. We’re going to the studio. Pino Palladino’s working on the record, and it’s being produced by Blake Mills.” I ended up playing on a song, just cause I’m there. Those kinds of things started happening. You know, walking into the studio at 3 in the morning, there’s ... Om’Mas Keith, Anderson .Paak. It’s like, “Whoa, Chris is pulling me into a whole ’nother [scene].” Then, some of those people started calling me. That made me stay in L.A.

Where did the title for Star People Nation come from?

Star People is the legend of—I believe this stuff, but some people call it a myth or whatever—the sentient beings that come from the Sirius Galaxy, that taught the Dogons the stars, the knowledge that spread through all of Africa, throughout North American indigenous people, the Aztecs, Mayans, all these ancient civilizations, where they learned about the stars. And they all reference Star People.

So, that’s the spiritual aspect, the historical aspect. But really, it’s meant to be a nation [of artists]. Justin Emeka [a professor of theater and Africana Studies at Oberlin] wrote poetry to the album. Bob Power, who is one of the sonic architects of hip-hop, mixed and mastered the album. The photographer, Donna Ferrato, shot the cover and all the photographs involved in the album. She’s a friend. Jack Harper did all the graphic design, and he works for a company called A-Cold-Wall. It’s a huge brand, a fashion-forward brand.

And then, of course, all the musicians involved. My normal band—Mike King, Eric Wheeler, Kassa Overall, Irwin Hall—were the core musicians who worked on the album. And that’s the band I assembled to tour with Dee Dee for years. And then I started pulling in guest artists who were impactful for me. People like Anthony Ware, featured on some stuff, tenor sax player. [Drummer] Eric Harland is featured on a track. I played him “Alkebulan,” which at that time was only kalimba. He was like, “How about me and Kassa do a duo over this with you and a bass player?” I was like, “Sounds great.” Of course, that took months to find a date where Eric was available. I brought in Eric Lewis, ELEW, to play on “The Messenger,” ’cause I was like, “Man, this song’s really about Elvin Jones.” [In the 1990s, ELEW performed with Jones.]

Was the first layer of stuff that you did the live stuff?

Yeah, usually what happens is ... I don’t want to give away too much of my process, but, yeah, it’s mostly live tracking. And then there’s layers added later. And then I usually go to another studio that I work out of a lot, and I block it out for a week, and I start to choose what to use. I’ll literally have a band do a take, do another take on top, do another. Then, I’ll go in and sit down and turn it up and listen to it, and either use it or take it out. Whereas most people add a lot of things, I get as much as possible [first] and take things out to get the clarity.

In a press release for the new album, you say, “I’m embracing my own multicultural-ness within my blackness.” Can you talk about some of the issues you’ve dealt with regarding your cultural identity?

Growing up—being a musician, and being a nerd, having parents who were educated, both with master’s degrees, in social work and psychology—I had advantages, which made me fit into being more than just being black. My grandfather was a world-traveling musician who came out of a black-Native American family, so of course we were exposed to all sorts of things. Some of the difficulties are being too nerdy. That’s not cool in the black community. Reading books ain’t cool, which is a fallacy. That’s part of a systematic deterioration of a culture.

Having a father, as a young black man, who was present, who raised me, along with a mother. Having an older brother who was taught to protect and nurture me as a younger brother, not be put against me. In other words ... being too white for the black kids and too black for the white kids. Having my light-skinned, very Native American-looking mother pick me up from school, and having my black father drop me off. You’d get those kinds of looks.

So, when I made this album, I wasn’t going to shy away from anything thematically. The inspiration is [from] a lot of the themes I dealt with myself. “Portrait Of William” is a tribute to my father, but also to my parents in general. “Have You Come to Stay” is me exploring spirituality. I’m speaking to my higher self: We’re going to rock from here on out as my higher self, not my lower self. “Wide Open” is about love and romance. “Subconscious Flirtations And Titillations” is about sex. Dealing with sex in jazz. When did jazz become this thing that’s not sexual? Jazz used to be so punk. Jazz used to be so revolutionary. Now, it’s very safe, watered down. No judgment, just saying that’s kind of been removed from it. I’m like, “Nah, man, this is dirty music.” DB