That was when he resolved to bring others into his world. He hadn't planned on working with live musicians, but he wanted something more expansive that would connect directly with his bloodline. Those elements — the harp, the bass, the strings, live drums, Ravi's sax — make Cosmogramma what it is.
And still, it is unmistakably a Flying Lotus album. Buried within the hyperactive strains of drum and bass, four-on-the-floor thump, glitchy sound effects and freewheeling experimentalism, there are intimate intricacies, like the sounds of Tammy Ellison's hospital machines, folded into several songs, tucked away in places that only Ellison knows.
PHOTO BY STAR FOREMAN
The Cosmogrammarian: Steven Ellison, aka Flying Lotus
PHOTO BY STAR FOREMAN
Flying Lotus "is like Hendrix — he's completely torn up the rule book in electronic music," says BBC DJ Mary Anne Hobbs.
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More abstractly, the warmth of the California sun comes through in the crackly texture, the rumblings of L.A.'s unstable earth are heard in the ominous bass, and the entire thing is imbued with a searching psychedelia — an interest in astral traveling common to Ellison's dual lineage, kith and kin, and fueled by his own frequent lucid dreams.
"I get those once a week," says Ellison. "Sleep paralysis too, especially now that I'm hardly ever in my own time zone. I'll be trying to go to sleep and I'll just feel the weight of the darkness. You feel yourself sinking, then see the dream space materialize from your thoughts. For a second there, at the very beginning, if you're in control then you're creating all the imagery."
Ultimately, even Thom Yorke, who sings on "And the World Laughs With You," is just a guest passing through Ellison's cosmic soup. Ellison hopes people feel all of it — the highs, the lows, the questioning, the reaching for higher ground. As for the results, let the jury tell it:
Mary Anne Hobbs, "First Lady of Bass," Radio 1 DJ: "Cosmogramma speaks in a completely new sonic language. Lotus is like Hendrix — he's completely torn up the rule book in electronic music and it's so liberating. I hear his sound echoing in every corner of the planet right now."
The Gaslamp Killer, producer, Low End Theory resident: "Remember when Fatboy Slim and Moby were on MTV? That's going to happen with Steve except he's actually the truth, and he has an insane crew of crazy-talented dudes that he rolls with."
Ravi Coltrane, world-renowned saxophonist, cousin: "I hear him speaking, you know? He played the whole thing for me last fall when I was at his crib. We listened to it top to bottom and when it was over, I just stood up and hugged him. I felt like he did it."
It's late in the basement. We've been speaking for well over two hours. We've accumulated well over two inches more ash. We've eaten two servings of cannabis-infused goldfish crackers. And we've been talking about the future.
Ellison wants to score a video game, plans to return to film somehow and admits he'd produce a track for Lil Wayne with the caveat of no murder talk. He's excited about using Brainfeeder to nurture the talented kids who have moved to L.A. to get closer to the scene, closer to him.
He's been taking calls from Erykah Badu lately — she's trying to convince him to stop being so nice to everyone, to just "do your thing" already. But he seems to get this idea on his own.
"For this record to actually come out on Tuesday, it's like a weight off my shoulders, man," says Ellison just days before Cosmogramma's release. "It sums up a chapter of my life. I feel like I can start over at this point, do whatever I want." He laughs. "I can be a doctor if I want to."
It's true — he probably could.
