Zach Hill is driving down the interstate, minding his own business. A policeman flashes his lights and pulls him over. This is the conversation that ensues:
Officer: Well hello there, son, mighty fine to see you. I suppose you’re wondering why I pulled you over. I just have one question: Do you know how fast … you’ve been releasing records?
Zach Hill: I… I guess not, officer. I thought I was releasing one or two a year but, especially if you include double-LPs and all of my collaborations, including my latest with Advantage guitarist Robby Moncrieff, there’s the chance I got up to, say, 3 to 4 mpy, something like that. Sorry, I didn’t realize I was going that fast! Oh, and “mpy,” that stands for Musics Per Year — It represents the number of releases, big and small, an artist releases onto the world at any given-
O: -I KNOW what it MEANS, smart assss, what I’m askin’ is, do you understand the laws we have here in the state of California are there to protect our citizens from ubiquitous, out-of-control drummers like yrself?
ZH: I don’t… I suppose I don’t know what y—
O: I SAID, DO YOU UNDERSTAND THE LAWS WE HAVE HERE IN THE STATE OF CALIFORNIA TO PROTECT OUR CITIZENS FROM UBIQUITOUS DRUMMERS LIKE YRSELF?
ZH: No, sir.
O: Well alloooow me to refresh you, hippy SCUm. We run a tight ship around here; releasing music is all well and good, but there are LIMits. If everyone started actin’ like yew, releasin’ records all nimbly-pimbly, there wouldn’t be any room to breathe. You’ve got to slow it down, Mr. Hill, or, with all due respect — and I do mean with all due respect — we will snuff you out like a Nicaraguan hit man. YOU GETTIN’ ME, SON?
ZH: Yes, yes sir. If you could just allow me to explain for a minute I think we could clear this whole thing up.
O: You tryin’ to bribe me son?
ZH: No sir, I’m simply attempting to explain the choices I’ve made thus far in my enviable career.
O: Enviable? That don’t even sound like something someone would normally say about themselves in day-to-day conversation.
ZH: You’re right, I don’t feel like myself today, it’s almost as if some skinny-fat douche bag were speaking for me from the comforts of his couch.
O: Son, I don’t know what that means at awl. But you’d better start makin’ sense er I’m gonna haul yew IN, wiseguy.
ZH: I’m not going to pretend I haven’t been indulgent at times — my records with/as The Smokers being a good example; my half of the Hella solo record, too, would fit in this category — but I’ve always ensured my vitality as a musician by making fluidity a priority. I hit the skins with new players constantly attempting to evolve my sound and, secretly, to figure out how to create a style of music that makes people SHIT their pants when they first hear it. I’m getting close.
O: So, you’re sayin’… wait, what’re you sayin’?
ZH: I could have taken the slow-food-movement route, releasing a record every few years and keeping things strict and simple, but it just didn’t feel natural. I’m a mover, a shaker. I made my name on drum patterns most people would equate with a free-jazz solo, and I haven’t stopped innovating, nor will I.
O: I understand that perfectly. You gotta keep movin’; I respect that. Problem is, we’ve been getting complaints about your album with Moncrieff. Some are sayin’ it’s just a retread of The Advantage with you on drums instead of, ironically, your Hella bandmate Spencer Seim. What do you have to say about that son?
ZH: My album with Moncrieff — credited to Moncrieff, mind you — is called Who Do You Think You Aren’t?, and it is far from a retread of any of the Advantage albums. Not to sound cocky, but my presence alone ensures that won’t happen. Like always, my poly-math drumming is what will grab your attention first, not the cheap synth trumpets or the toy instruments. And Moncrieff, over the course of WDYTYA?, proves to be an able bandmate for my purposes. He’s not as innovative as, say, the partners I teamed up with for the Bygones or Chll Pll albums, but he’s steady and, like I said, if you give him the chance to stretch out over all 11 tracks, you’ll realize he’s in possession of uncommon awareness as a composer.
O: We just don’t want to see you take the wrong path, Zach. A lot of people are counting on you.
ZH: That confuses me because you’re a highway patrolman on a random, unspecified roadway. That said, I see what you’re saying, and I appreciate it. Check out “I Saw Blood,” though. It’s a good example of Moncrieff’s scary post-Nintendo powers, like Castlevania II: Simon’s Quest found an out-sound jazz-loft drummer — me — and never emerged.
O: Oooh, I LOVE me some Simon’s Quest! I feel it gets short shrift in the Castlevania canon. [straightens self] Uhhhh what about tunes like “Let’s Take a Walk”? Word on the street is yr going through the motions on that one.
ZH: That’s tough but fair. Still, I urge you to go back and listen to “The Gist,” “Drips Slow as Sap,” and “Crooked Teeth.” I’m not going to contend that they will sound wholly unfamiliar if you are an aficionado in all things Hill-/Moncrieff-related, but I will say they’re solid examples of the form we’ve taken for this release, a genre I’d go as far as to call future-vid-skronk. It’s got the astray rhythms you’ve come to expect from me, buttressed by more layers of synth than most of my albums have ventured to have. I’m not even sure you could cram any more layers into this thing; hearing it is like being devoured alive by digital insects.
O: I think we’re done here. Your words are as well chosen as they are well spoken, my friend. I still am not convinced this album is among your best; that will not change. However, I will go back and give Who Do You Think You Aren’t? another listen, and you have yourself a nice day.
ZH: Wow, thanks so much for your understanding, officer. I realize you were invented for the purposes of this review, yet I feel very…CLOSE to you. Don’t know if that makes sense. Anyhoo, maybe we can make a record together someday. I’m about a quarter-way through the Sacramento phonebook, so you’re bound to turn up soon.
O: Alrighty!
More about: Robby Moncrieff
