office had the chance to sit down and talk with Naples about making Orbs and the steps that led up to the making of the album, read below for the full interview.
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Anthony Naples Expands His Scope
You essentially have three titles: Producer, DJ, and label head. Does one take priority over the others? How do you manage to do all of them?
I definitely have a priority in that producing is the number one thing for me. That’s what I’ve wanted to do forever, That’s where my focus is for the most part — in terms of how I allot my time. It’s hard to put a spin on where 2 and 3 would be. I love DJing, and as much as I love sharing music I also love it as a way to be part of the music world. Not to be too hippie-dippy about it, but there’s a common bond around the world through music and it’s really special to be able to go around and share that with people. So that’s very important to me, but it’s less important for me to be the center of attention, which is something I really hate about DJing. So I have a love hate relationship with it, because it’s a way to interact with the world but it also puts me in this uncomfortable position, I’ve never found it easy to be the focal point. And then the label stuff, before I ever made music or was a DJ, I ran a little tape label in South Florida with friends. Sort of in the style of Not Not Fun. It was inspired by that era of music. I’ve always wanted to run a record label, DJing too, and making music as well. So I don’t necessarily see a hierarchy to it, but my primary passion is making music, so I think of myself as producer first.
Totally. But in hearing you talk, it sounds like they all pretty much inform one another, which is probably why you can balance them and let them coexist. It also sounds like the communal aspect is very important to you, in terms of music on a more general scale and how your specific pursuits help foster community.
Definitely. With the label that I run with my wife Jenny, most of the artists that we’re working with live within a few mile radius of where we’re at. Like James K is a few blocks down the street, Python is two blocks away, at one point Huerco S. was a few blocks away. So it’s always been a function of being apart of a community and trying to highlight that community. And the same goes for doing the parties and stuff like that. It’s always been about being apart of this bubble that I’m in. But it’s a big bubble, it’s not a small niche thing anymore, all of these people are touring around the world and stuff, so it’s cool to expand what we’re doing from Ridgewood to all over the place.
It’s super impressive. Other than the communal aspect, how does DJing inform your creative practice when producing music?
I’m always being exposed to new music. I think if I wasn’t DJing, it’s not that my listening taste would be different, but because I always have to look for new and fresh music, it sort of keeps me on my toes. Especially when you’re going out to clubs, you’re always hearing cutting edge music, so to me it’s very important to be out so I can be exposed to new music. I’m a streaming user and record buyer as well, but you’re always being directed towards things in these realms. But with clubs you’re really just being presented music by someone else’s taste and then it’s up to you to take to it or not. So I feel like it does inadvertently impact my creative practice because I’m always out listening to music, it’s always bleeding into what I’m doing. Producing-wise, if I go out and someone plays an amazing set, I’ll want to get home and make tracks. But, obviously, the more I stay out of clubs, the more I can make an album like this, which is not club-informed really.
This new project isn’t really grounded in any sort of fundamental structure, so what was driving the process? Was there some conceptual influence? Or was it all intuitive? How did the project come about?
I was in India in December and got back right after New Years and realized I hadn’t made music in seven months or something. My wife Jenny and I had been in Europe for a while doing a five year label anniversary DJ tour all over the place, and then we went to India. When we got back I was like I haven’t made music in so long, I almost forgot how the process worked. I didn’t come to the project with a narrative idea. I think often that’s kind of the focus on music projects these days, like “what is the story behind the record.” I’m not anti-story for other people, but with my own music, I have to admit that I’m just making music from a place of pure exploration. Unfortunately I don’t have a crazy angle for the record, which would probably be beneficial, but all of my records are a way for me to explain my feelings, I don’t really know how to describe that intuition. I remember reading this David Lynch interview where he’s talking about how ideas come to him — like people throwing puzzle pieces under a door, and you have to assemble the pieces and make it into something whole. He says it better than me, but I think it’s a good analogy, it feels fitting. I kind of just make things and don’t know where it’s going to go, maybe it’ll become this or that. I feel like that’s what I’m doing every time, until all of the sudden there’s a whole record there.
Personally, I don’t think it’s unfortunate that there isn’t some sort of conceptual angle. One of the many things I liked about the project was that it doesn’t feel over indulgent or pretentious, it feels very exploratory and genuine. If anything it’s refreshing, I think often times in music and in fine art, there’s this extreme pressure to substantiate the material work itself with some crazy conceptual narrative, so it’s refreshing and bold to hear you straight up say “no” to all of that.
For me the music is the thing, I don’t want to say that’s the story because it’s not a story, but that’s all there is to say about it. It’s hard when making instrumental music to try and imbue it with a distinguishing feature like a voice. Because I think with music that’s led by lyrics, it’s easier to be like “I don’t need to explain myself, just listen to the lyrics.” So when there are no words, I understand that people are looking for an insight into the process, but the process I guess is the same, you’re just leaving out the part which would explain itself more.
Were there specific artists or sounds that influenced Orbs?
When I did my record Take Me With You a couple years ago, I had very obvious influences, and when I did Fog FM, I hadn’t done a dance music album yet, and there were obvious references for that, but for Orbs, it’s hard for me to say that there were any explicit references when I was making it. If I told you what I was listening to at the time, I don’t think it would really reflect what the record sounds like at all. I was listening a lot to “Beware of the Monkey” by MIKE and “Foam” by Ulla. All sorts of stuff that I don’t think ever came into the equation of my own music.
That must have been kind of liberating, to not feel tied down to a very specific sound influenced by another artist.
Yeah, I guess that maybe just comes with time. I definitely was way more obvious about ripping off things that I liked when I started making music, which I think is pretty normal. These days I don’t sit down and try to make a track inspired by another artist. I guess it just comes with time, you get more interested in sounding more like yourself.
You said you took a break from making music for seven months, how was it reintegrating back into that process?
I feel like every time I sit down to make music I have to start over completely. I'll have an idea and almost get surprised by the fact that I made it. But a few hours in it’s like riding a bike and feels natural again. Taking a break made the process feel like it did when I first started making music, you come at it with this naive tendency that you can’t ever fully get back. But maybe you can get a bit of that initial excitement. I think some people make music like it's a job. Like “I work on music every day of the week.” Because the idea is that if you’re always in the chair making music that's when the idea comes and you’ll be ready at all times for it.
I feel like every time I sit down to make music I have to start over completely. I'll have an idea and almost get surprised by the fact that I made it. But a few hours in it’s like riding a bike and feels natural again.
"Five beats a day for three summers."
Yeah, exactly. And I think that there's a lot of validity to that idea, but I also think that there's validity to stepping away from something and doing something completely different for a long time, and then coming back to it and being like kind of exposed and not sure of what you're gonna do.
That definitely resonates. I also think that in the creative process, when you’re working a lot, there are unproductive cycles that you can fall into, where you're sort of making the same thing over and over again, and it’s really hard to break out of that. So I think taking time away is one route to combat that. There’s nothing wrong with taking time away to see the work with fresh eyes.
Exactly, you gotta live your life.
Totally, so you have things to make music about, even if it's not conceptual, just new sonics in your head, all of that.
I have to be out in the world. talking to people, hearing new things, and reading things — so taking breaks is a big part of the process for sure. And going back to what you asked initially about the label and DJing, those things really help with that too. So that when I don't have musical ideas, I can focus on putting someone else's music out. And they trust me to do a good job, so if I’m sidetracked by trying to create a magnum opus or whatever, I'm going to be doing them a disservice.
Why did you initially decide to start Incienso?
I was running this other record label called Proibito, a terrible name which I took from the front of a Dean Blunt record. I was 21, and had a friend named will who started Sleeping Bag Records with Arthur Russell. I had been working with him at a record label and he found out I made music and he owned a pressing plant and said I should start a label and he’d press the records. It was too good of an offer to pass up at the time, so I started that label, very unsure of what I was doing. That had gone on and ran its course, I wasn’t getting demos at a certain point. So Jenny and I decided to essentially start the label over again under a new name. Doing it with her has been so much better, it had no direction before and I was just fumbling around. I lived in New York and then moved to LA and then to Berlin, and it was a very messy time, a very fun time, but a very sporadic time. So I came back to New York, we met, and that’s when I started the label, it just felt like a new era.
What do you want people to take away from the new album?
I feel like at this point I’ve gone pretty far down the line to figure out what my sound is, and I arranged this 43 minute piece of music very particularly — it’s an album in the sense that it's set up to listen to from beginning to end, and I think there’s a lot of beauty in the format of an album. But I think that every time I make an album, I'm trying to chisel out to the same place. I’ll never fully get there, but I hope that when people listen to it they’ll be inspired to think outside of only making two minute songs. Maybe it’s a little on the nose to call it Orbs, because in my mind it’s trying to be a sound world, but I hope that people can step into that for a second. I just want to be heard, in the same way that I hear other people out.
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Your single, "HTKAM (How to Kill a Man)," was described as equal parts sadistic and seductive. Can you tell us about the inspiration behind the song and the emotions you aimed to convey?
Although I was not coming from a seductive point of view, the song is more of a humorous way to express my disdain for misogyny.
In your music, you seamlessly blend Afro-pop and psychedelia while infusing aspects of your West African heritage. How do you navigate between different genres and cultural influences to create your unique sound?
It’s just simply what I grew up on. In high school, I listened to a lot of music and that influences what I make today.
Your latest single, "I Don't Like You," has been gaining momentum. Can you share the story or message behind the song, and what makes it resonate with your audience?
People tend to be diplomatic in their life. However, I’ve made myself a mascot that they can vicariously live through.
How did you approach crafting this body of work, and what themes or emotions were you exploring throughout the project?
For me, it always starts with the message. And from there, I go into figuring out how I am going to produce it. When I am making the beat, I’m pretty much telling the second part of the story.
Ever since I heard “Mad Apology,” I haven’t stopped playing it. It’s honestly such a vibe. What’s the meaning behind the title?
It comes from the phrase, “Mad O” in Nigeria. It’s a sarcastic way to say, “Interesting.”
The music video for "I Don't Like You" is so sick. What was the creative process like in bringing the song to life visually, and how does it enhance the overall message of the track?
I pretty much went with Santi’s creative direction. He is such a wonderful director. And it was a very fun overall experience.
As a singer-songwriter and producer, you have a multifaceted approach to your music. How does your background as a producer influence your creative process as an artist, and how does it contribute to the unique sonic experience you create?
I don’t think my music will exist in a way that it does without my production. I have a specific sonic that resonates with me, and everything is part of my overall identity.
Your collaboration with Rema on the Black Panther: Wakanda Forever Soundtrack, "Wake Up," now has more than 3 million plays on Spotify. How did this collaboration come about, and what was it like working on a project with such cultural significance?
It was just a fun experience overall. I learned a lot and I was really grateful. ANGER MANAGEMENT has such a strong, powerful energy.
What do you hope listeners take away from the EP, both in terms of the music itself and the emotions or experiences it evokes?
I hope people are able to learn from my experience. And if they can relate, it helps them gain more clarity as well.
How do you see yourself evolving as an artist in the future?
I just want to grow as a person. You can’t grow as an artist without growing as a person. And I hope the growth reflects in my music.
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RAHILL wears SACAI blazer and shirt onesie.
Throughout Flowers At Your Feet, field recordings, snippets from home movies, references to film and poetry and allusions to sports legends give us a glimpse at who Rahill really is. From that, to the cover, which is a hazy photograph of her as an infant wearing a gold necklace passed down from her grandmother, it's clear that while she welcomes evolution, she revisits moments in her life like flipping through chapters in a favorite book. "I Smile for E," the lead single and first song on the album features her late aunt singing in Farsi, an acknowledgment of her heritage and a bridge between generations. Ultimately, Rahill calls us to pause, to consider what we spend our time on, and to focus more energy on the people that surround us.
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So your album is coming out soon. I’d love to learn more about the journey that led up to Flowers at Your Feet — I hear a story in there of self-acceptance.
Well I’ve always sought different practices to communicate through. Art has always been a practice of communication for me. Being able to tell my story as a child of immigrants. Our generation is really defining that, but it wasn’t always easy to know one’s history with all the diasporas that occurred in the two previous generations. I chose music to connect that together for me and to find that place of being able to understand and appreciate what that means to me.
I’ve been very vocal about being Iranian and celebrating my culture, which is clear in my music – you can tell it has deep roots. I did it when it wasn’t cool. I was the weird kid at school. I was like, 'Fuck ya’ll,' you know? With Flowers at Your Feet, I finally let go of that anchor that holds us back from our truest selves. The album is a testament to that. I don’t give a fuck what’s cool, this just means a lot to me.
Do your childhood and familial experiences influence your musical approach?
Definitely, my dad was really into music and it made a huge impact on me. Music and poetry were always around so I grew to care about the art of storytelling. A lot of indigenous cultures have a kind of storytelling that is lost here in the West. Elders are like fucking encyclopedias, like my grandma. That’s really shaped my way of writing. It’s deeply rooted in our culture, and I think in a lot of indigenous cultures. Visiting Iran, and talking to my dad, I was always interested in old folk songs, but I can’t really seek that out with contemporary music.
Were there any specific musicians or poets your father would read/listen to that still inspire your sound?
There are a few. I love Hafiz and Saadi. They were regarded by western philosophers like Voltaire. Hafiz was the greatest, ancient — in the same realm as Rumi and both him and Saadi are from my dad's city. I used to go to Hafiz’s tomb. It's a beautiful place — so many Sufis visit.
His poetry is very dense — someone has to interpret it for you, but I feel this close connection to it. My grandfather knew all his poems by heart. There’s this contemporary woman I like, she died in the 60s or 70s. Her name was Forough Farrokhzad. She was a pro-woman activist, headstrong, and didn’t care about how she was viewed. Her poetry is beautiful, raw, and almost uncomfortably true.
Do you seek that in your own music? Beauty and truth.
I do believe that it’s shaped my music. I’m very direct with what I think about. I love music that is all over the place and has a mystique to it, but with mine, I make it clear what I’m talking about. I have to be honest and vulnerable. I don’t know any other way to communicate.
I love music that is all over the place and has a mystique to it, but with mine, I make it clear what I’m talking about. I have to be honest and vulnerable. I don’t know any other way to communicate.
RAHILL wears vintage DIEGO MARADONA t-shirt from CLUB SHOP NY and SANDY LIANG skirt.
How do you balance being a multidisciplinary artist with your role as a musician? Does it come naturally?
Yeah, it totally comes naturally. My art practices inform each other. Sometimes I look forward to the exhaustion of singing. But I also love to focus on drawing a series. Recently I’ve been making visuals for the music on the album and that's been so fun. Oh my god, I have so much respect for videographers and directors now.
For sure. What was it like collaborating with Beck and Jasper Marsalis on the album?
Well, Jasper is a good friend. We actually met in the studio. My producer Alex Epton had worked with him and knew that we would get along so he brought him in. When I met him, I didn't know who he was, but I knew that he was particular. He left an effect, and we got along really well. We just bounced in the studio so I was very grateful that he wanted to work on these songs together. He’s truly such an incredible, and talented musician. I’ll send him a vocal melody and from the tone in my voice he can play guitar and evoke the same emotion I’m trying to convey.
And then I met Beck at a show in LA. And I was like, “What?” It was super surreal. He’s very kind. We were just talking about music and then we exchanged numbers. We stayed in touch, texted back and forth, and eventually, we bonded over cool music stuff. I realized he was a nerd like me so we had a lot to talk about. I started sending him some of the songs on the album and he was really encouraging. It was a huge affirmation because he’s a big inspiration. I didn’t hesitate, I told him that I would love to collaborate on the last track. It was very cool and kind of like Kismet that we met, like once and then we just like, kind of bonded and I went to LA and I met up with him at his studio, and out of it came “Fables”.
Almost like a full-circle moment.
Yeah, yeah, totally.
You worked on this album mostly through lockdown, right?
Yeah, like the second half was written down. Or maybe the majority actually — yeah a good majority of it. It started before lockdown, then we couldn’t do anything for a while, then it was a bit laxer and would test for COVID and head into the studio, then send files back and forth.
How did you refine the album? Did you cut any songs?
Well, it’s funny — the song with Beck, for a while I was just not down for it. It was the last song that we recorded and I was like, “Man, I really feel like I'm trying to make it fit.” It's the fifth song on the album, so it felt so far away from the first few, but Beck actually tied it back into the realm of the album. The song is about family and fleeting emotions. The song after, “hesitations,” gets kinda hot. I knew that the listener would appreciate that one random song. So the album has fourteen songs, which is a lot. My producer and I were ready for the label to say no, but they were like, “Wow, amazing.”
The industry standard is 10 so for them to keep all 14, they must’ve really liked them...
For sure. I was like, “Are you sure?” I think every song blends really well into the next.
You were also part of the Brooklyn garage rock mainstays Habibi. How did that influence your solo work now?
Um, Habibi started when I was really young — over 10 years ago. And it was my first project so it's weird that I only ever did one other thing, although I did have some side projects. It was the beginning stages – we were DIY – so I didn’t really understand the music industry. It’s cool that we accrued a cult following and people really listen to those songs. While that was the start, it’s also super important for me to grow and evolve as a person. When you’re in a band you all bounce ideas off of each other which is great, but sometimes I want to lean into different genres. Habibi is like a sisterhood now, everybody’s really close.
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Once the album drops, what are you looking forward to? What can we expect from your upcoming performances?
I am always nervous about playing shows. That’s the scariest part for me as a performer. I think some performers are like, “It’s the show, it’s all about the show,” but I like to write and I like to record. However, I'm really excited about what feels like a fresh start. I have an incredible band to play with and I’m really looking forward to seeing how the audience interacts.
What do you hope is your audience's biggest takeaway?
The nicest thing I’ve heard — from friends and others I’ve shared the record with — is that the album made them think of someone they’re close with. My hope is always to connect people back to others and themselves.
It’s crazy that you say that because when I listened to it for the first time, the tracks immediately made me reflect on myself.
I love that. That’s really what I aimed to do. It’s wild to be really vulnerable, but that headspace also centers you. You may get caught up, but you have yourself there to act as a guide through the madness. It’s about that personal connection, and the music facilitates that.
Totally. I can see that. It’s funny reading the title now with this context. Flowers at Your Feet. You’re telling the listener to look down and chill out for a second.
There are so many levels to that title. It’s exactly what you’re saying – me giving this to you, you giving it to somebody else. Flowers are also such a ceremonial thing for us in life. When you arrive at an airport you’re handed flowers. When you go to a grave site you leave flowers. At competitions, graduations, etc. there are flowers. It’s such a symbol of love and adoration. The title acts as the gate of the album that leads into a place of honor — all you have to do is leave all that other stuff at the door.
