No Gravity

Talk to anyone who uses, say, a Palm Pilot, and they’ll marvel at how they ever did without. The same can be said of producers. “I always swore I’d never go digital, but ProTools [recording and editing software] allows you to do so much — taking care of all the grunt work like lining stuff up and tracing, which remembers everything you do so you don’t have to search for it later. Before, it was like five people had to work together on one track, and there was always one person who’d fuck up and not remember how they did that one cool effect or whatever.”

Think we’re dropping names in an advertorial way? Frankly, The Angel does get a pittance here and there for her endorsements, but from none of the above, so there. (“Yamaha doesn’t give me anything — they’re Yamaha, they don’t need to.”) And her advice to aspiring producers fording a wilderness of Rolands, Technics and Korgs? Stay lost. “The only way to learn all this stuff is to dive right in. There have been times when I would have to be patient and pull out the manual, which was the worst. I think the people who write those things have only a vague understanding of the technology — they aren’t the people who designed the equipment, and they damn sure aren’t musicians.”

Like all machine-dependent composers, The Angel is as opinionated on sampling as when Flavor Flav declared, “Y’all can’t copyright no beats.” When is it adornment, and when is it plagiarism? The Angel isn’t taking any chances. If a sound isn’t from a legally clear CD sample glossary, she’ll snag a single note from a session musician — the cursory thwack of a snare, the plink of a piano key, perhaps — and use that as the base for a loop to be stretched and manipulated endlessly. “[Sampling] is just a super-useful technique — it’s also great because you have an instant hit. I mean, because your source was a hit, how could yours not be one?” she says, laughing. “In a lot of ways, it’s really a retro way of making music, all those old funk and soul records. And if you do go that route, you’re gonna have to worry about clearing, and if you’re gonna do that, you’re talking serious money.”

Squirreled away in the studio is where The Angel is happiest, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t occasionally feel the need to flex her chops live. “I don’t have anything special planned, like spinning on my head,” she says of her upcoming performance at Sugar. “Hopefully I can get some of the people who play on No Gravityto help out, but it’s just a question of who’s around — they all have their own projects.” All the better to rock it spontaneous, you might say. Plus, you never know what tastemakers might be in the audience, right? Like she cares. The Angel has neatly sidestepped the mainstream music biz with her New Line Records distribution deal, which gets her product on the retail shelves, but more importantly furnishes her with a direct pipeline to filmmakers in need of a fresh score. Keeping clubbers swaying and the popcorn eaters tripping — now there’s a crossover audience.

The Angel’s outlook on the game is an unusual mix of steely resolve and clear-eyed realism. She’s not cocky, but there’s no question she knows exactly who she is. “The odds of making it in this business are incredibly slim. That’s why the only viable way for most people is to go independent. Unless you’re going for the gold, there’s no point in trying to write what you think people want to hear.”