by RAF KATIGBAK

If you were asked to draw a picture of Philly-based DJ Diplo (aka Wesley Pentz), there's a couple of ways you could do it. One way is to sketch a portrait of a skinny, almost scruffy, white dude with Southern-boy good looks and tired bedroom eyes that tell the tale of too much time spent in front of a computer screen. A simpler way would be to trace the tattoo on his arm: an outline of a diplodocus, the world's longest dinosaur. But perhaps the best way to draw Pentz involves a pencil, a ruler and a world map: if you trace the lineage of electro funk all the way from Dusseldorf, Germany (home of Kraftwerk) to New York City, Miami, Philly, Kingston, Detroit, Chicago, London, Baltimore, Houston, Tokyo and most recently Rio De Janeiro, that line is Diplo.

Diplo connects the dots between the disparate worlds of regional underground club music. Music that's made by, as he puts it, "people that don't give a fuck." In other words, music that is allowed to develop, free from the outside pressures of major labels and commercial success. Like Baltimore club music or baile funk (the hyperspace dance music created in Brazil's shantytown favelas), it's music that's often made at home on substandard equipment and is invariably energetic, raw and rump-shakingly good.

In 2003, as Hollertronix, Diplo and partner Low Budget recorded their musical manifesto Never Scared - a raucous party rumbling blend of '80s hits, dirty South hip hop, commercial bombs and unexpected surprises - which became the template mix for hipster DJs the world over while garnering loads of press and a spot on the New York Times 10 Best of 2003 list. Since then, Diplo has gone on to flip it from Texas to Tel Aviv, while dropping a downtempo album for Ninja Tune, touring with RJD2 and remixing Beck, Gwen Stefani and Le Tigre along the way. But perhaps his most influential collaboration is his current stint as a tour DJ and part-time producer for Sri Lankan/British MC M.I.A. (as evidenced by his bananas reception in Montreal last May). Diplo recently chatted with the Mirror between M.I.A. rehearsals about being the nexus of global underground club music, M.I.A. and how Missy's new album is sort of "meh."

Mirror: Tell me about the first time you heard baile funk.

Diplo: Well, I'm from Florida, and Miami bass is my bread and butter. DJing there is really serious, you had to be really good, you had to be on point. It's about the electro and what electro really is, which is just fucked up versions of Kraftwerk made in New York City. So I grew up with that in my blood, and when I first heard baile funk, I was like, "What the fuck is this!" I heard the weird conga samples and the drums and the little children screamin' on it and I was like, "This is what I'm about!" This is like the Miami bass shit, this is like the punk rock shit, it was the heaviest music I'd heard. So when I went down there to check it out, I flipped. There's no proper distribution system, just kids and bootlegs, and it's the same sounds being used over 10 years. It's just kids trading music and DJs playing it, and it goes from crowd to crowd.

M: I hear baile funk parties are insane, with kids doing huge rails and getting sexed up and shit. It's pretty dangerous down there too, right?

D: I've got a warped vision of Brazil 'cause I've only been going down to the favelas to go to the parties. Sao Paolo is one of the biggest cities in the world with one of the craziest music scenes but I've never even gone to a club there. I've just gone to favela joints. I feel I have a real sense of safety, but I shouldn't. I don't suggest anyone go out there.

Missy's not stupid

M: The rawness reminds me of other regional sounds you rinse out: Baltimore club and the Detroit ghetto tech and Chicago booty house.

D: Baltimore club was one of the foundations of the Hollertronix sound. Since it's only an hour and some change from Philly, we were bringing that up and doing our own re-edits. The Chicago and Detroit scenes are really just offshoots of Miami bass gone crazy. When Detroit started techno, it had a strong electro bass feel. It's hard for me because I didn't grow up with that sound, but all these regional scenes that create music that's so energetic, it's all about that beat, that "boom-tchak boom-boom-tchak."

M: Now that sound is coming back, like on Missy's new joint Lose Control.

D: Yeah, Missy's not stupid, she knows how to jump on trends, like way early and get her worth out of 'em. She's really smart, she's fuckin' got an ear for what's good to bring from the past and what's good to take out of the future.

M: But you're not always feelin' her flow...

D: I must say, on this new record in particular, she takes the hottest things out of everything that's happening in hip hop from Rich Harrison to Eightball and MJG, but it didn't sound like a Missy record. She sounded like she was just biting that style. It's a smart thing to do, marketing wise, but I didn't think it was a Missy thing, it wasn't outer space enough for me, man. I mean, the best song ever was "Get Ur Freak On," which changed everything, even Pass That Dutch, that wasn't such a good album, but it's one of the best club songs ever.

M: Too bad they got played out pretty fast.

D: Yeah. When the mash-up thing happened, it was an a cappella everybody flipped 1,000 times and I was like, ‘Uuuhhh... I don't know if I like this song anymore.' Hopefully M.I.A. can outlast this shit. She's like the new Missy as far as everybody flippin' an a cappella.

Weird and British and crazy

M: Let's talk about hooking up with M.I.A. I see you guys are comin' from the same headspace but in totally different worlds.

D: It is like that. We're both film students, both totally obsessed with music, both obsessed with Timbaland and world music and what's happening with kids, and we're both not afraid of anything. Musically, she came from a much more professional way of doing things and I was just a kid throwing out mix tapes, but together I gave her a bit of my style and she brought the best out of me, and now I'm lucky enough to be able to follow her around. She's doing warp speed and I'm glad everybody picked up on her even though she's weird and British and crazy.

M: You mentioned something about not being afraid. Do you think that's a problem with DJs nowadays?

D: Obviously DJs are just there to break new music, and it hasn't been like that. The world of DJs and clubs is full of biters and that's why I go to Baltimore to get my music and that's why I'm obsessed with these scenes 'cause they're just doing what they want from that place. They don't give a fuck. You have to be fearless to do that, to be able to say, "I want to make this sound and I want to push it because I love it, because it's hot." With M.I.A., we totally don't give a shit about making radio hits. It's a matter of really feeling what you feel, that's what a DJ is, someone who puts stuff in context and communicates it to people.

With Chromeo and kops crew at Bain Mathieu
on Friday, Aug. 12, 10 p.m., $15

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