by RUPERT BOTTENBERG

Who in their right mind would make underground hip hop inspired by sunny, flower-powered psych-pop from the late '60s? Nobody, that's who - meaning the anonymously monikered L.A. DJ/producer Elvin Estela. Nobody's first disc Soulmates, more a proper rap record, dug into the darker side of psychedelia and leftfield jazz. However, his recent follow-up Pacific Drift: Western Water Music Vol. 1 traded shadow for sunshine and MCs for singers, offering Stereolab-ish instrumentals, a Monkees cover and a stubborn sense of sweetness rarely heard in rap.

Mirror: Tell me a bit about She Comes in Colours, your weekly radio show on L.A.'s KXLU.

Nobody: It focuses strictly on psychedelic '60s music, lots from England. I go under the name Minister Alvin X, derived from my old psych guru's constant mispronunciation of my name and Richard Pryor's character in Wild in the Streets. I am a preacher of the psychedelic gospel according to that guy. My partner in crime is my buddy Jeff, who goes by Doctor Frederic Phases. We party and play records - it's fun.

M: A lot of psychedelic pop from the '60s is dismissed as empty fluff. Some of it, however, is more complex and substantial than it's given credit for.

N: Man, people who wrote the Monkees off as a boy band cannot believe their ears when they find out "Porpoise Song" is theirs. I think it was a magical time, the span of four years between "I Wanna Hold Your Hand" and "Strawberry Fields Forever." The last Strokes record took the same amount of time to come together and it sounds like their first one. The '60s had hyper-progression since there was so much fresh shit going on. It was the first time when drugs smashed into music and let the population know that the young people were loaded and felt good. Dang, that sounds goofy, but oh well, I'm fascinated by that era.

Happy's hard as hell

M: You've remarked that it's harder to create music that's pretty and happy than dark and confrontational.

N: I'm usually a happy person, but back during the Soulmates days I was digging into darker stuff. I don't know why exactly, it was just tough to make this beachy, happy, soulful and hopeful music, like Brian Wilson or something but out of samples. It was hard as hell, but I made sure that the outstanding thing in the music was the emotion of it. Honestly, with a few exceptions, joy, happiness, mourning, peacefulness and other emotions that reflect warmth seems to be missing from underground hip hop these days. That's why I changed directions. I have to challenge myself first before thinking of anyone else, be it a record label or kids that may be bummed out that I didn't do Soulmates over again.

M: I understand you do some design work as well. Do you pay much attention to psychedelic posters and graphic art from the late '60s?

N: I started out drawing before I did music so I still dabble - I designed my last three T-shirts, basically '60s-style rip-offs from the Move, Poppy Family and the Flower Pot Men. Man, if you knew how much money I have blown on records because of their covers. At the same time, there are some records with crap sleeves that rule. Los Pekenikes is a South American band with the worst cover, bad moustaches and suits, but Jesus, are the two psych songs sick!

With Savath & Savalas and Juana Molina at la Sala Rossa on Monday, April 19, 8pm, $13

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