Minneapolis mainstay AKKO stopped by the studio and gave us a taste of his latest inspirations. We chatted with AKKO about his style and intentions for his mix. Read a transcript of the interview, edited for length and clarity, below:

I'm Andrew Koalska and I go by AKKO. I'm a music producer, DJ, studio owner, promoter… I wear a lot of hats.

How would you describe your DJ philosophy?

I think it's about sharing your passion for music. If you're actively discovering new music and sharing it with people, to some extent, you're doing the work of a DJ. I just tend to do it in a club and have grown some skills to mix it tastefully, but I think it's an art form that's accessible for everyone to get into. After 10 years of gigging, it’s still exciting to me.

How would you describe the electronic music scene here right now for somebody that's not from here?

You might be surprised that there's a ton of different levels to the electronic music scene. You have your more surface level EDM stuff that happens at the Armory or Skyway Theatre. There's also an amazing underground DJ scene here, from hip-hop to techno, and other sorts of left-field genres. A lot of that is supported by an amazing sound system culture. I wish we had more venues here, but that's another topic.

What are some of your favorite events that you've played lately?

], which takes up most of my year. In the past year, I've gotten to play 

 hosted by Intellephunk. Those are two of my all time favorite parties.

What are we going to hear from you today?

I think today will be a mix of sort of left-field club sounds, probably leaning toward New York than anywhere else, and hardgroove techno, which is what I've really been into lately.

Stay tuned for new mixes on Carbon Sound every other Wednesday. If you’re a DJ and want to be considered for the series, email a mix of yours to jgreen@mpr.org.

Minneapolis DJ and producer AKKO blends left-field club music and hardgroove in his mix for Carbon Sound.

AKKO (5/29/24)

Julian Green built and manages the music library for Carbon Sound and oversees content creation.  


Julian Green

Hardgroove and left-field club from Minneapolis’ AKKO.


Music. Sports. Two nouns that don’t really form sentences on their own, but walk with me here, I’m making a point.  

Though the two are disparate on the surface, with long histories of scrawny band kids being shoved in lockers by their more athletic peers in our cultural consciousness, music and sports are intrinsically linked. Just as a rhythmic heartbeat drives the players on the court, music can drive their audience and the players themselves to new heights.  

Music shows up in athletic environments through bands on the field, licensed soundtracks in video games that shape the music taste of generations, and DJs in stadiums and arenas. Anthony Kasper, a DJ and producer with deep roots in Minneapolis and an unwavering love for Minnesota sports, lends his talents to teams like the Minnesota Twins, Lynx, and the Timberwolves, who are having a bit of a moment right now if you haven’t noticed. I spoke with Kasper about his work as a DJ in stadiums and clubs, his interactions with players like Naz Reid, and what songs he’d want to hear as a player. Although the team is in a tough spot right now, it’s not over until it’s done, and we still have a lot to be proud of this season. Read our conversation, edited for length and clarity, below: 

Let’s start with an easy one. Who are you? 

I'm Anthony Kasper, a DJ and producer in the Twin Cities for the past 16 years, but I've been doing it full-time for the past eight. One half of my career is drum and bass side where I produce liquid funk and DJ liquid funk. I’ve had the opportunity to land on some pretty awesome record labels from over in Europe and travel doing that. On the local side, for the job side of DJing, I'm an open format DJ and resident at The Living Room in the W Hotel in downtown Minneapolis. I also work with Generation Now Entertainment, which is the official DJ company of the Minnesota Timberwolves and Lynx. We also do some stuff with other sports in town, including Minnesota United and the Twins. 

It came about in two different ways simultaneously. I was doing homework one day and was looking for music to listen to back when iTunes had radio stations. I was clicking through the electronica tab and came across 

. It was drum and bass, and it was awesome. I had no idea what it was at the time, but I was like, “Oh, I could do homework to this.” You know, it's a little bit like some audio Adderall for me. I kind of fell in love with it.   

At that same time, my best friend's older brothers had a pair of turntables. We weren't allowed to touch them. So, of course, we did. In their record crates were some drum and bass records. I quickly fell in love with drum and bass, but also turntablism and scratching and watching these DMC competitions. From there, I ended up buying that pair of turntables from my friend’s older brother and taught myself to DJ from their records and watching YouTube. I fell in love with being an absolute nerd about the craft. 

How did you get involved with Generation Now?

I was the Thursday night DJ at Tiffany’s Sports Lounge in St. Paul when I was in college. One night, I ran into 

. He came into the booth one night and started messing with me. We ended up chatting a bit. He told me that he used to DJ there and we figured out that we're both from Bloomington and we're both Eagle Scouts. Then we found out that my friend's older brothers bought that pair of turntables I mentioned earlier because they used to watch Nick [DJ Mad Mardigan] DJ. So, in this weird, roundabout way, I'm standing DJing in this bar because of this guy right here that I've never met that I'm now meeting.  

From there, I needed some internship hours. This was when Gen Now was young. I tagged along with them. Since then, I’ve worked behind the scenes helping us grow, managing all our gigs, team members, and all the little stuff. I think the title on LinkedIn that I made up is “Director of Administration.”  

Tim Miller is another big part of Generation Now. Tim was the music director with the Timberwolves, that's the guy who sits up above on a computer running a program called Click Effects that triggers a lot of the in-game audio. The music director works in tandem with the DJ to throw it back and forth for different segments. Nick and Tim were working with the Timberwolves at the time and decided to try to bring actual DJing to more events. At that time in the mid-to-late 2000s, you'd go to a Midwest wedding or a private event or something, and the DJ was just miserable. Our whole thing there was, let's bring these dope DJs we know from around the cities to these private events. 

From there, we realized we had a unique understanding of sports, stadium music, and how that's to be presented successfully. DJing in a stadium is so different. You have 2 minutes and 30 seconds. You try to play into it a bit, keep the players in mind, and keep the fans hype. Management and ownership don't like certain songs. So, there's this super narrow path that you want to try to hit. And then, I want to flex my mixing and my scratching, my turntablism. In that sense, it's unlike anything else. Tip of the hat to Mad Mardigan, he is phenomenal at it. I don't think he gets enough credit for it.  He is just so good at playing, finding that lane to make everybody happy, and hitting it with flair. I've learned a lot from him and try to channel that whenever I do my sets in arenas like that. 

What is your approach to arena DJing? How is it different than in a club setting?

I’m not the main DJ in the arena with the Timberwolves, but I've had a chance to do it a few times this year. My approach is to match the vibe of the game and where we're at. I think sometimes people forget the context. You might go too big and it's too early or play too mellow in a hype scenario. You have to match the context of the game because the music and the DJ are always secondary. People are there for the game.  

Now in my head, I might be thinking, “Oh my god, this is the most important thing ever, let's go.” But, in reality, it's like alright, just match where we're at. I always try to represent music that I love, whether it be underground artists, or maybe like a nod to a jungle tune or a remix like that. And then also threading that needle to make sure that it translates to the broadest possible audience there, keeping management happy too. Turntablism and scratching are important, too.  

If it's a blowout fourth quarter and there's a quick timeout, then I’ll try to keep it happy. We're not playing anything with over-the-top energy, though. I'm probably going to play something familiar... I try to stick in that 120 to 130 [BPM] range for a situation like that because oftentimes, the dancers will still come out in the court and dance, and they like that tempo. It's about keeping people optimistic without being patronizing. Maybe if there's a glimmer of hope and we could possibly take the game back right before the timeout is over, then I’ll switch to something like the new Future and Metro [Boomin]. Something to throw the players specifically to be like, “Alright guys, we got this.” Keeping that positivity is key. 

Are there any songs you know the players love? Does anyone on the Timberwolves ever make requests?

Usually at the start of the season we'll get their playlists and what they're listening to. Obviously, that changes with time. But I will say that basically all the players wanted to hear the new Future when that hit. 

I remember I was talking to Naz Reid briefly one night during warmups, and he came up to chat with me. I know he likes Gunna and asked if he wanted to hear tracks from him. He's like, “No, just that new Future.” So, I went in played three or four tracks from it in a row. That was the game he got ejected from. I was like, “Oh, maybe I got a little too high.” Of course, it's not anything to do with me, but your brain goes there. 

What have some of your favorite moments been from this Timberwolves season?

In the last couple of weeks, I've had the opportunity to DJ in the Lexus Club area, that's probably my primary spot with the Timberwolves. It’s a high-end ticket holder spot. In there, I’m essentially setting a vibe. Last game, there was a bunch of the Vikings players and some other people that had people crowding around then. I'm sure they're famous, but I didn't recognize them. At that point, it's just fun to me pick a person out and like, “Alright, let's see if we can get their head nodding.”  The crowd there was definitely super receptive, more than they are in most games. So, I'm feeling like the energy is great in the arena right now.  

The other spot I DJ’d at during the end of the last series with Denver was the upper-level area, near the 200 level. Those people are just looking to party, man. You can throw all the bangers out there. So, we got a little dance party going and some of my friends that work with Wrecktangle Pizza came through. I know they like the song "Sittin’ Sidewayz,” so I put that on, and this huge dance party erupted with probably like 30 people. I was like, “Yes! This is the energy, man.” It's so fun. 

Time to enter hypothetical land. It's game seven. You're a player. There are five seconds left and you’re two points down. It's your possession. What song do you want to hear in the arena to get that three pointer?

Right now, I would probably pick “Not Like Us” by Kendrick Lamar.  I've really been enjoying playing that one out and seeing how across everywhere this massive diss track is a bop and people are dancing to it. It gets me jacked. I love that track right now. 

Minnesota sports teams seem to be cursed, historically speaking. Is the energy around the team different this time around?

Once you hit this level, everybody's watching. The more casual fans have come out. My mother is now watching basketball games. I'm happy those people are here, the more the merrier. But, when they switch to the negative, my ears are off. I just pay no mind. I love all the teams we work with. You have to only see the positive and the fun, the good things you're doing. Because if you dwell on it, it's just going to be a miserable workplace. Even if we don’t win, I still love this team. 

DJ Anthony Kasper tells us how to make the players and fans move in stadium and arena settings.


A-Trak (Canada) - DMC World Champion 1997 -- Winning Set

Paul Wall - Sittin' Sidewayz ft. Big Pokey (Official Video)

Not Like Us

Provided

Interview: DJ Anthony Kasper on working with the Timberwolves, Twins, and more

Georgia Fort, host of the Midwest Emmy award-winning TV news program “Here’s the Truth,” sat down with Carbon Sound’s host Sanni and talked about the need to tell stories that represent an authentic Black experience, unresolved tension of Black and Brown people being accepted in media spaces, and a whole lot more.

The Message - Georgia Fort

I have a very special guest in the studio today. This person gave me my first foot in the door in radio, and so this is very, very special for me, okay. We have a two-time Midwest Emmy award-winning journalist — independent journalist at that — founder of 

, host and — I love this — executive producer of the weekly TV news program 

 and you only got a couple episodes left in the 

 so we want to make sure we tune in. And her work exposes injustice and amplifies community voices. And I remember talking to her about this project, about who she's become, and I just have chills, ladies and gentlemen, welcome the 

Thank you, Sanni. Thank you so much. Oh my god, I'm so proud of you. This is beautiful. Look at you.

Thank you. Thank you. I'm tryna be like you girl! No, it's cool because we met in radio. I remember when you left, and I was like "oh my god Georgia gone" (crying voice). And you left and you went towards — you did a little bit of radio, but then you went towards TV. How did you get into media in the first place?

Well, I stumbled into being on the radio by way of wanting to own my own radio station. And so I went to college for business, I wrote my very first business plan directed toward owning an 

urban focused radio station in this market

 and quickly realized, as you know, a 19, 20-year-old single mom at the time, that it wasn't a smart business plan, that transmitters and boards and all of these things were going to be extremely expensive, and that with Sirius XM, and podcasting on the incline, it was gonna be a huge challenge to try to recoup all of those expenses, you know? And so I was like, this isn't a good business plan. But in the pursuit of learning about what it would take, I stumbled upon having community conversations on air. And I just fell in love with being able to amplify stories and amplify voices. And at that time, when we worked at 

, I mean, you're sitting in a room essentially listening to music talk stuff all day. And you get paid to do it. And so for a young person in college, it was just extremely fun. And the organization that I worked for to begin with was one that really embraced where I was at in terms of being a young parent, and I had the flexibility to bring my child to work with me when I needed. And so all things considered, it was just, you know, where I needed to be in that moment. And that's really how I got into it, but it was by way of wanting to own my own station.

Power 104.7 FM - New Home for Hip Hop and R&B

I think for me, that's why I saw so much of myself in you, you know? And I'm so proud of what you've accomplished and knowing we came from similar backgrounds and had to overcome similar obstacles. And here we are, you know? But really, it boils down to the power and the effectiveness of just giving someone a chance, and believing in them, creating space for them to be able to gain that experience — because once you do the thing over and over and you fail 1,000 times, you learn and grow, and that's how you're able to evolve and continue pursuing, you know, more opportunities. But a lot of times, especially in this market, I feel like people who look like us, women who look like us, single moms, Black single moms, don't necessarily always get that chance.

Right, right. I want to talk about what you said in the interview when you called me in, and I was trying to intern. I remember you were like, how's it — (laughs) I remember you was like, "so how's it been job searching?"  Just so softly (laughs). And I was like, "oh, well, I mean, it's going." And then you were like, "what are the radio stations saying to you?" And I remember, I remember saying, "well, I'm Black. And I'm a woman, and they're looking for white males." And I remember you saying, "yeah, that's kind of been my experience." And I remember having other conversations about that. And so I guess my next question is, when did you start putting that into your work? When did it shift from I'm pursuing a career to now I want to put all this stuff into — all of these experiences of being given a chance, being a single mom that doesn't have a voice, being a Black woman that doesn't — when did it shift? When did you go from I want to do this to I really want to do 

? To where it was more heavy and more content —?

I think after George Floyd, if I'm being honest. But it's interesting hearing your perspective of that time period and our exchanges because — why? Why did my dream get deferred? Right? Why wasn't it a reality for me to own my own radio station at that time? Well, I mean, let's look at the statistics: Black women in terms of having access to venture capital, is less than 1%. So when I think about who I was and who I wanted to be at that period in my life — yeah, I had dreams. But those dreams continuously got dumbed down and dwindled down, to be modified to what was actually possible in this market. What was actually possible for me, given my economic status. What was possible for me in terms of the access I had to capital, right? And so when I think about who I was, yeah, I went in there with every intent to want to own my own radio station, but I didn't see that as a viable pathway forward. But when you think about, like you said it, in your experience, "well, they're giving those jobs to white men." Well, yeah, they're also giving the venture capital to white men in Silicon Valley. So, it's interesting to be at this stage where, wow, we've come so far. And it's incredible, we've achieved so much, and we've made a huge impact — yet and still if we're being honest about the young women we were and what we truly wanted, a lot of those dreams were deferred or modified based on the constraints of the society we live in. It's a Minnesota thing, it's also an America thing, but we saw that bubble over, after George Floyd was murdered. And I think for me, that's why that was the turning point, in terms of molding all of those experiences into a mission and a purpose and a direction to actually change this ecosystem.

I remember seeing you around George Floyd, I remember looking at your work, I remember checking out your website, and you being there — but I'm really interested in your shift. Because I felt like you were the entertainment person.

Oh yeah, I surely was. So that shift changed when I transitioned from radio to news. And so I think as a young person, I was really enamored by celebrity, and gossip, and entertainment, and Wendy Williams, and, you know, was really highly influenced, by those things. And as I got older, and matured, and my daughter got older, and matured, I really wanted to make sure I was setting an example for her that I could truly be proud of. And, you know, it's fun and games to sit and talk about celebrities, and it's juicy, but I mean when you think about the reality that you are bashing someone — a real person.

That you never even met, and you're getting this information second and third hand — it just got real for me. And I'm like, "I don't want to do that anymore. I don't want to be that person." And so looking at what was happening now at that time, I was working in Columbus, Georgia, and then doing some work in Atlanta, and then doing some modeling and stuff like that nationally. But making the transition for my day job, from full time radio to full time news, was really fueled by wanting to continue to facilitate conversations, but conversations that had more substance.

Were you scared? To shift into something that was lighthearted — you know, you can go anywhere on the surface in here — to wow, you're talking about stuff that's happening right around you. It's connected to people that you grew up with. Was there an element of fear or were you like "nah, this is it"?

I think for me, talking about harder issues came natural for me just because of my proximity to pain and struggle. Having 

 at the age of 19, having grown up with little access to resources, having a 

 who's serving a life sentence, my proximity to heavy issues — like I have proximity to so many real-life experiences, that it actually made it easier for me to connect with people and make them feel comfortable and make them not feel judged. And to be able to offer empathy from a very authentic place, right? But in terms of was I scared, you know, I wasn't scared of the content and substance of the conversations, but I didn't go to school to study that trade. And so I was self-taught, I had been working in broadcasting at that point, almost seven years. I had also been working part time at a public access TV station — a lot of people didn't know that. They saw me on the radio and didn't know I was doing a second shift as soon as I got done.

And so what made me nervous was, "can I actually do this? Can I actually make this transition from hip-hop radio to news?" It was an absolute faith walk. Like, God humbled me for 30 days leading in, I didn't have housing, I didn't have transportation — I actually had a car but I lost the key to my car. But that's how I knew it was a time of transition. Sometimes we have to look up and see the signs, right? Like my lease was up, my daughter's school year was ending, she was coming back to Minnesota for the summer. And so I knew I was done with radio; I was convicted. I could not talk on the mic anymore. But I was like, "before I move back home, I'm going to try to transition to news." And so I moved all my stuff in storage, brought her back here, came back, I said "I'm here for two weeks, if I can find a job, I'll stay. If somebody will give me a job in news, I'll stay." But I had been building those relationships, I had been volunteering, doing a segment on the news every Friday, showing up killing it, going above and beyond. I had a column in the newspaper, I had that part-time job at the public access TV station. So I was doing all of these things to try to prepare for that transition, but then when it happens, it was a transition. It was a transitional period in my life that humbled me and really made me get clear about my why. And my why was never about the vanity of being on the five o'clock news. It was clear to me, how come I was always the person who ended up stumbling across the stories of moms who had just lost their child? Right? And it's like, this ain't about a interview or the news, this is about actually being able to speak to a woman, as a woman who's lost a child. To just try to encourage them that while you may not see any glimpse of getting on the other side of this grief, there is hope, and to hold on. And so for me, it was just really humbling, you know? And I just felt like I went from a place of being convicted and not being in my purpose to being exactly where God called me to be.

Wow I love your story. You are independent media, you are not connected to any big news media, and it's working. You're winning awards. The people are saying it — it's not just you sat up there, no one — I don't get like, you're a plant. I can tell by the response that the community needs this. Like, what do you say about that? That everything is just — it seems like it just works?

Honestly it's a faith walk, Sanni. You know, when you really look — and like when I talk about that 30 day transition period, and having everything stripped away, and it just being really humbling, right? Then let's fast forward a little bit. Let's talk about what happened when I came home. I'm from here, I grew up in St. Paul. I've lived in every single neighborhood because my family didn't own a home, like many Black people in this state, you know? And to come home, and to not have my gift affirmed, was the most heartbreaking experience. And because I've had to hustle, and because I've had to overcome and push forward and be resilient — sure, like I just want to Duluth. I found a job, went to Duluth, got married, had a baby — like this, this should be my happily ever after, right? And then to not get maternity leave — legally, I was not eligible for maternity leave. Now, employers and cities and states can offer a higher floor, meaning a city can mandate that after six months an employer has to give you leave or an employer can say "hey, this is a benefit that we offer. And it's better than FMLA." But the federal floor for medical, for maternity leave is that you have to work for a company for 12 months, and I gave birth 11 months and two weeks into my contract. But also the timing was very ironic. So two weeks before I was terminated, my last big story that aired was a sit down with the chief of police. I was interviewing him in context of the Philando Castile incident that happened, the Jeronimo Yanez verdict had just come out. And so localizing that for the Duluth community and speaking to the chief of police about what his priority was for building better relationships with the Black community in Duluth — to come to find out that he's a direct descendant of 

, the woman who incited the triple lynching back in 1920.

And so for the very first time, he actually sat down on camera, and he talks about his family's proximity to this lynching.  

Georgia Fort - Police Chief Connected to Lynchings

. But not for doing the story, because I'm not eligible for maternity leave. Which is like — to try to process that as a pregnant woman, in real time, and so now you think I've moved to a city for a job, now I don't have a job, I'm nine months pregnant. How am I gonna move out this apartment? Who's gonna hire me after just having a baby? Why am I being fired in the first place? Like I was engaging in these conversations that everybody’s just like, "well, what do you want?" I'm like, "I just want maternity leave. I just want to go, have my baby, take a couple of weeks off, and come back to work." You know? And so it was like, fine. And again, we have to pay attention to the different signs, right? And so for me, I had had all of these experiences of what it means to walk by faith. And so I tapped into this confidence, this optimism — "it's gonna be fine. It's gonna work out. It's cool. I didn't really want to be in Duluth anyway, I'm just going to take this as a sign. Let me fast track to come back home. I'm gonna come down here, I'm gonna find me a job." And I had been networking, I had been serving on boards, I had been meeting a lot of people who worked in local newsrooms, and by this point, I'm 10 years in my broadcasting career. And I had two Emmy nominations. I had one from coverage I did in Georgia, and then I got one for the 10, 11 months I had worked in Duluth. So I'm like, at this point, somebody's got to give me a job, doing the thing I love, doing the thing that I'm great at. No. I interviewed at every station —

And so I went and I worked all these odd jobs, and I was miserable. I would literally cry on my way to work. And I found a job with a Black-owned company that was...okay. It was like, okay, at least I'm kind of doing things making a difference, and it's a Black-owned company, and so I can be myself at least — and I still I have a great relationship with that woman who gave me a job because that helped me, it was a stepping stone, you know? And then I worked for a media startup, which was a white-led company, and this was right before George Floyd. And so then when George Floyd happens, I'm working for a white-led new media company that did not want to tell George Floyd's story. And I kind of lost it. Our office is less than a mile away from an international story, and we can't think of a way to cover it? That's true to who we are? What kind of media company are we? And so then it when it when it actually blew up — meaning like, after the precinct was set on fire, then it was like, "oh, my God, we have to do this." And it's like, hold up, but you didn't even know his 

 two days ago. There is still this unresolved tension in this market, around Black and Brown people being accepted in media spaces, and our brilliance and what we bring to the table being seen as valuable, being seen as an asset, because we could have been ahead of it. We could have been the ones to break the story. That could have really transformed that company. What is that company doing today? You know? And so there was this continuous weeks of tension around how to tell that story, and I ended up getting fired. And that's when I started my company — in August, so two months after George Floyd. I had no business plan, I had no clients. I just said, "I'm committed to doing three stories a week." Because I knew — like you got to think when I worked in news, my job was multimedia journalist — fancy word for a reporter with their own camera. So every single day, I had to go out, schedule my interview, bring the camera, film it, go to the next one, get all the B roll, try to come up with the script in my head while I'm driving, because I only got three hours left before we go to air, go to the station, get my script approved, while they're approving the script let me try to get a bite to eat real quick, editing my story, all the video all the audio, tracking it once it's approved, then after all of that, then I got to upload it in the system, make sure all the lower thirds are correct, pack up my live gear, drive to wherever my live shot is, try to do my makeup in 60 seconds, light my shot, frame it up, call into the producer make sure I have good audio and that I'm in focus and then be live precisely at five because if it's 5:01 you will be fired. 

Georgia Fort - Officer Involved Shooting Footage

So when I got terminated from my position here after George Floyd, I was like "oh I could do three stories easy." But it wasn't even about the money. My husband owns his own business, I said babe, "I'm gonna tap into your business, bring some extra revenue through your business, and not even worry about how to make money on telling these stories and just tell them." And then before I knew it, through a subscription model,  through one time contributions, through grants, we were able to actually build a media company that could thrive independently. But it really just started from seeing the need to tell the stories from a journalistic lens that represents an authentic Black experience.

Anybody that's interested in TV and radio, and you're a young person, I really encourage you to really — I studied Georgia, because I was an intern and she inspired me — but you study her because you are getting — when you study Georgia, you're getting like, and I won't say the full picture, but you're at least getting I feel like a well, visual picture of who you said you were going to be all those years ago. And if you're a young person that has an idea, you got some dream, and you're really passionate about it, and you're like, how am I — because it looks like it's this big mountain. It just like it's this big mountain when you first start out. And if you want some inspiration, you have a local, independent media company, and a local independent media journalist, that can give you inspiration of how you can get this thing done and the pivot has — I'm hearing in your story — the pivot was really big for you.

No thank you, Sanni. I'm so proud of you.

And thank you for seeing and valuing the work that we're doing, and for the platform that you're creating here for artists. And to have conversations like this that we're not having in other places.

Alright, y'all I ain't got no show left today, because that's the whole show (both laugh). So y'all want to check out this interview be sure to visit carbonsound.fm. One more time, thank you, Georgia.

This is The Message, Carbon Sound Music for Life.

Georgia Fort, host of the Midwest Emmy award-winning TV news program “Here’s the Truth,” sat down with Carbon Sound’s host Sanni and talked about the need to tell stories that represent an authentic Black experience, unresolved tension of Black and Brown people being accepted in media spaces, and a whole lot more.


Georgia Fort and Sanni Brown posing for a photo 2

John Kueppers

Season 3 Finale of Here's the Truth

ICYMI: Chauvin Sentencing Recap

Interview: Georgia Fort on The Message

Each week, we add new music, older tracks, which are known as “Gold adds”, and tracks that might not fit our general format, but still deserve a place in rotation because they serve our mission of showing the depth, breadth, and influence of Black musical expression - These are known as “Variety adds.”

. If you make music and want it considered for rotation, 

 If you want to give feedback directly, reach out to me at jgreen@mpr.org.

Tune in to hear our host Sanni B. live on The Message from 10 AM to 1 PM Monday through Thursday!

Keep all these tracks in one place with the 

 Spotify playlist. This playlist is updated weekly with all the new adds. When that playlist is cycled with new tracks, the tracks live forever on the 

 playlist. That playlist contains all of the music that we've added since the week of July 11, 2022 in chronological order of when it was added. All of the tracks available on Spotify, at least.

All of the tracks added to rotation on Carbon Sound the week of May 20, 2024.


Image for New on Carbon Sound Spotify playlist

Natalia Toledo

New on Carbon Sound

Old on Carbon Sound

New Music on Carbon Sound - Week of May 20, 2024

It’s been just about two weeks since Drake released “The Heart Part 6,” the most recent in the series of diss tracks between him and Kendrick Lamar. In a feud whose rapid escalation is only matched by its prolific output, the rap world sees these two titans at something of a standstill. “The Heart Part 6” was released around 24 hours after Kendrick Lamar’s “Not Like Us,” an infectiously danceable and indisputably devastating diss that’s quickly becoming the song of the summer. “Not Like Us” not only sits at the #1 spot on the Billboard Hot 100 this week, but is producer DJ Mustard’s first #1 ever, as well as only the fourth #1 released this decade to have been written by a single person.  

That last part, Drake ghostwriting allegations aside, really emphasizes how truly one-on-one rap battles tend to be. It’s where competitive sports, art and entertainment seem to collide with devoted fans cheering on their favorites while those with a sheer love of the game sit back and appreciate the entire fandango. But rap battles aren’t solely for the coastal elites in Los Angeles and Toronto. While the beef may not be as heated here, it’s just as seasoned as Minnesota’s battle rap scene has a history of potent talent. From Eyedea becoming a national champion at the turn of the millennium to the unforgettable must-see battles at the Loring Pasta Bar, there’s no shortage of ever-evolving local battle rap action. 

One of the local leagues making the most noise is No Coast Raps, which celebrates its 15th anniversary this summer and also has sister leagues in Chicago, St Louis and New England. It also boasts a championship that’s been both defended and held by some of the top rap battle talent in the world. With talented artists catering to a fanbase and targeting an audience that absolutely lives for rap battle, we figured speaking to three of their all-time greats on what *they* would do next if they were coaching Drake or Kendrick in their current feud would make for the best perspective possible. 

Here’s how the No Coast All Stars would advise Kendrick and Drake’s next steps. 

Human (the Chicago-born Current No Coast Champion) 

 should either leave the ball where it's at and accept the L or prove he has a bombshell bigger than some Instagram interactions. 

 should drop a completely unrelated album in the near future as a show of how much cleaner he came out of the exchange. 

 is in a position where he almost has to respond. With the reports about streaming numbers (Kendrick rising fast, Drake dropping) surfacing over the last couple of days I think he will feel the pressure and respond with his best track yet. Despite doing well in the battle, there is a consensus that he lost and that is going to bother him. 

 should feel great about his position and the way the culture is viewing him at this moment. He has the most momentum he will ever have, and I believe that (instead of another diss track) this would be the time to drop new music and capitalize on the current virality of anything he does. 

, I'd tell him to take a vacation and in a few months when this has died down, release a hit new song to hopefully make everyone forget how roasted you got. 

, I'd advise him to drop an album or mixtape immediately to capitalize on the publicity. It might be the only chance he has in his career to get numbers even close to Drake's. 

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Chaz Kangas

The Current’s Chaz Kangas checked in with three Minnesota battle rappers to see how they’d approach this historic battle.


XQZ VS Human - NoCoastRaps | #VDM10 | NoCoast Title Match #11

Micky Worthless (ENG) vs The Vesh (USA) - No Coast Raps | Snow Coast 2 (Hosted by Lush One)

Marcelo Hernandez/Getty Images; Greg Noire

Kendrick vs. Drake - WWYD? MN Battle Rappers Answer

Diane, host of The Current’s Local Show, stopped by to talk to Carbon Sound’s Host Sanni about the Minnesota Music Month Carbon Sound Showcase that she helped curate, as well as her journey through music as a listener, performer, and radio host.


The Message - Diane

Nur-D and DJ Hayes chat with Diane at The Current

TLC - No Scrubs (Official HD Video)

Sister Act 2 (Finale) Lauryn Hill - Joyful Joyful With Lyrics (Ft. Whoopi Goldberg)

Prairie Musicians: D Mills & The Thrills

Interview: Diane on The Message

DJ JEN-E stopped by the studio to lay down a set full of energetic techno, sure to get you moving wherever you listen. We chatted with DJ JEN-E about her style and intentions for her mix. Read a transcript of the interview below:

My name is DJ JEN-E. I'm a local DJ in Minneapolis and I spin house and techno.

I got into DJing from a friend. I’m entirely self-taught. Ever since then, I just fell in love with music and learned more about the world of electronic music. 

What are some of your favorite events to go to in the Twin Cities?

My favorite events to go to are always the ones that are underground. A lot of different types of music, different artists that come from different cities, and just a wide plethora of genres that I can learn from and absorb.

What's your favorite gig that you played recently?

Last year I got to play House Proud and that was one of my favorite gigs. The audience, the sound production... Jeff is an amazing person and he's really talented. So, I was super honored to be able to get to spin there.

I will be doing a driving techno set. Kind of dubby near the end, a little hypnotic. So, a mixture.

Editor’s note: DJ JEN-E will also be playing at Communion’s opening party on Sunday, June 2 at Pourhouse in Minneapolis.)

Energetic techno from Minneapolis’ DJ JEN-E.


Minneapolis' DJ JEN-E laid down a set of energetic techno for Carbon Sound

DJ JEN-E (5/15/24)

In late April, Senator Thom Tillis (R-North Carolina) began his testimony before a Senate subcommittee hearing by doing something unusual for a stuffy institution like Congress: He played a new song from the rapper Drake.

But it wasn't Drake's rap verse that Tillis felt was important for Congress to hear. Rather it was a verse in the song featuring the voice of the legendary — and long dead — rapper Tupac Shakur. 

In a kind of uniquely modern sorcery, the song uses artificial intelligence to resurrect Tupac from the dead and manufacture a completely new — and synthetic — verse delivered in the late rapper's voice. The song, titled "Taylor Made Freestyle," is one in a barrage of brutal diss tracks exchanged between Drake and Kendrick Lamar in 

. Kendrick is from California, where Tupac is like a god among rap fans, so weaponizing the West Coast rap legend's voice in the feud had some strategic value for Drake, who is from Toronto.

Drake, apparently, thought it'd be okay to use Tupac's synthetic voice in his song without asking permission from the late rapper's estate. But, soon after the song's release, Tupac's estate 

 demanding that Drake take the song down, which he did. However — given the murky legal landscape regulating AI creations — it's unclear whether Tupac's estate actually has the law on their side. 

And so the beef between Drake and Kendrick Lamar has become not only one of the most brilliant — and most vicious — battles in the history of rap. It's also become a historic flashpoint for the issues posed by what you might call AI necromancy — resurrecting traits of the dead using AI technology. 

We've entered a new world where anyone can conjure the voice or visual likeness of a dead celebrity — or really anyone, dead or alive — with a few clicks using AI software. And this has opened up a bunch of new legal questions about the rights of people and their heirs to control digital replicas of themselves. 

"So we've got work to do and legislation addressing the misuse of digital replicas will have a multi-billion dollar implication," said Senator Tillis after playing the new Drake song featuring AI Tupac in Congress. "We've got to get it under control." 

For Tupac, this is just the latest chapter in one of the most productive careers that any artist has had after death. Even before the explosion of artificial intelligence, there was enormous commercial and artistic demand for reviving the late rapper. And there were questions over whether his legacy was being tarnished by his estate cashing in on that demand. 

Tupac, who is widely recognized as one of the greatest and most charismatic rappers of all time, was murdered back in 1996, in a drive-by shooting on the streets of Las Vegas. Given the incredible mark he left on the world, it's hard to believe he was only 25 years old when he passed.

Tupac, who was known to go into the studio and churn out songs like a conveyor belt, left behind a massive supply of unreleased songs. And, under the direction of Tupac's estate, music labels released seven posthumous studio albums of these songs — more than the number of albums Tupac released while he was alive. That doesn't even include the slew of greatest hits albums, live albums, and compilation albums released after he died.

By the early 2000s, the constant deluge of new Tupac songs began to strike many people as strange. Was he still alive? Maybe! In 2006, Dave Chapelle released 

 that poked fun at this idea. He and a group of clubgoers can be seen dancing to a new Tupac song, which has reference after reference to events that happened well after he died. The crowd is mesmerized — and perplexed — by the song's eerily contemporary lyrics. The sketch was called "Tupac is still alive." 

While some of the Tupac songs released after he died were actually quite good, most were ones that the artist himself would have probably not released. In this humble Tupac fan's opinion, repeated themes and phrases in these songs became clichés. His flows were often very similar and got a little boring. By 2006, when Tupac's heirs released his final studio album, it felt like they were scraping the bottom of the barrel for a quick buck. 

Last year, the estate controversially partnered with the company Nixon to launch an entire line of watches inspired by the late rapper. "Through photos, writings, and, of course, his music, we visually designed Tupac's story through the medium of watches," said a Nixon spokesperson in a press release. 

, many of Tupac's fans were not pleased with this partnership.

At the heart of the battle over regulating AI-generated digital replicas of dead people is whether their estates should have powers to authorize usage. The idea is that such power will safeguard the artist's legacy and financially benefit their families. But Tupac's story reveals that this is by no means a foolproof solution. 

Tupac's sister, Sekyiwa Shakur, has alleged her brother's estate has been improperly managed by its executor, Tom Whalley. Whalley was appointed to that job by Afeni Shakur, Tupac's mother, in her will. She died in 2016. Tupac's sister, in 

 of embezzling money and requested an official audit of the estate. Whalley vigorously denies any wrongdoing. The lawsuit is still pending. 

While Tupac's story, likeness, and mortal music catalog would clearly continue to be a valuable commodity, by the 2010s, it started to feel like the finality of death had finally caught up with Tupac and stopped the flow of new musical performances. There's only so much someone can do when they've been dead for decades, right? 

Then, however, came 2012. That's when Dr. Dre and Snoop Dogg, performing live at Coachella, famously resurrected Tupac with a "hologram" for a performance. To a roaring crowd, Tupac, artificially generated using CGI and projected onto the stage, rose up from out of the ground like a ghost. Ghost Tupac began by performing his bone-chilling posthumously released song, "Hail Mary." The crowd loved every second of it.

Funny enough, even Drake's archenemy Kendrick Lamar reanimated Tupac for his own artistic purposes. The last track on Kendrick's 2015 album "To Pimp A Butterfly" is a song titled "Mortal Man." The song ends with Kendrick interviewing Tupac. Kendrick 

 from a rarely heard Q&A that Tupac did back in 1994 with a Swedish radio show. But, unlike Drake, Kendrick got 

Is It Legal To Use AI Tupac In Your Song?

With the explosion of AI, Tupac — or at least a fake, digitally rendered version of him — is seeing another resurgence. It's not just Drake. YouTube is now filled with songs featuring AI Tupac. Some of these songs already have 

The question is whether any of this is even legal when the creators lack authorization from Tupac's estate. To get an answer to this, we spoke to Mark Bartholomew, a law professor at The University at Buffalo School of Law. He has a forthcoming law review article titled "

," which dives deep into the legal issues posed by AI necromancy. 

Currently, there are few or no federal laws that explicitly prohibit people from using AI to generate and distribute replicas of you without your consent. Instead, Bartholomew says, there's a confusing patchwork of laws that vary state by state. Some states protect your visual likeness, but not your voice. Others protect you when you're living but not when you're dead. Tennessee, the epicenter of country music, recently became 

 protecting musicians from unauthorized AI replicas, safeguarding an artist's likeness and voice, both when they're living and dead. 

How do we know which state's laws govern? Bartholomew points to a famous case involving the unauthorized use of Marilyn Monroe's persona. The late actress's estate 

 that Monroe, at the time of her death, was domiciled in California, which hands generous rights to artists to control commercial use of their personas, including after they're dead. Because of her California ties, Monroe's estate argued, they had rights to authorize — and profit from — the use of her image. However, using evidence 

 and past arguments by Monroe's own estate, the court ruled that Monroe's main home was actually in New York, where these rights were not granted posthumously (

. (For more on the economic and legal issues posed by commercial use of dead celebrities, listen to this 2015 

Even though he was born in New York, Tupac famously declared California as his home during the latter years of his life. After all, one of his biggest hits is "California Love." And so Bartholomew says it's pretty clear that Drake violated the law when he published a song featuring synthetic Tupac. "Because the rights holders [Tupac's estate] are in California and California has a pretty vigorous right to your identity in various forms that extends years after death," Bartholomew says. "If we were talking about a celebrity who is from a different state, we'd have a different analysis."

Bartholomew suggests that Tupac's estate may also have a case under federal copyright law if Drake and his team fed copyrighted Tupac material into AI software to generate his synthetic voice. However, he says, the facts of the case are uncertain and the law is still murky in this area. 

Which brings us back to that U.S. Senate hearing in late April, where Senator Tillis played that Drake song featuring AI Tupac. Tillis, 

together with Senators Coons, Blackburn, and Klobuchar

, is a co-sponsor of draft legislation known as "The No Fakes Act."

 a federal "digital replication right" to Americans, giving us the power to authorize the use of our image, voice, or visual likeness in a digital replica. It would hold those — like, say, a rapper named Drake — liable if they use a digital replica of someone without authorization.

This digital replication right is currently modeled after existing copyright law, so it includes "fair use" exceptions for free speech and grants this digital replication right not only to a living individual, 

 "the executors, heirs, assigns, or devisees of the applicable individual for a period of 70 years after the death of the individual."

At the hearing, there was a lot of debate over this 70-year postmortem provision. A representative of the Motion Picture Industry, Ben Sheffner, argued that it made sense to grant a digital replication right to living performers because an AI fake of them "impacts their ability to earn a living." However, he said, after a performer dies, "that job preservation justification goes away." The movie industry obviously has an interest in being able to use AI or CGI versions of dead actors freely. In fact, this was 

 that actors had when they went on strike last year. Many performers fear they will lose jobs if studios can freely reanimate and use dead actors, or generate new synthetic actors, on the cheap.

Duncan Crabtree-Ireland, a representative of the SAG-AFTRA union, which represents actors (and, full disclosure, reporters at NPR like me), expressed shock at the idea that a performer's designated heirs would not get control over their digital replicas after they died. "This is about a person's legacy," Crabtree-Ireland said. "This is about a person's right to give this to their family and let their family take advantage of the economic benefits they worked their whole life to achieve." Crabtree-Ireland argued there "shouldn't be a 70-year limitation at all. This right should be perpetual."

We asked Bartholomew, the expert on law and technology, for his perspective on the 70-year postmortem provision. He thinks we need to strike a balance between the interests of artists and their families to control and profit from their legacies on the one hand, and, on the other hand, the interests of creators and the general public to have free expression, including the freedom to use AI and reanimate celebrities for that expression in commercial works.

"We really don't want people exercising dead hand control over what people can do with their likenesses or their voices 70 years after they die," Bartholomew argues. As is the case with lengthy copyrights, he argues. handing what essentially amounts to a monopoly over a dead artist or celebrity's digital doppelgänger for such a long period of time is not in the public interest. He stresses that oftentimes the estates of dead celebrities aren't even held by their families. The rights are often sold off to big companies, which have a greater interest in making money than safeguarding the legacy and reputations of the dead artist or giving up-and-coming creators the chance to make new art using the artist's voice or likeness.

Bartholomew argues a more sensible regulation would strike some sort of middle ground, and give the heirs of dead artists around 20 years to control their digital replicas. That rule, by the way, would have granted Drake the freedom to use AI Tupac in his song without the need for authorization (Tupac has been dead for almost 30 years). The existing draft legislation would not.

While it's unclear where all this heading, it is clear that, thanks to AI, we've entered a strange new world where age-old concepts like "rest in peace" are being upended.

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AI can conjure the voice or likeness of a dead celebrity with just a few clicks. This opens a host of legal questions about the rights of the deceased and their heirs to control their digital replicas


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