Cheap & Trashy: An Interview with Babymorocco

babymorocco, Erika Kamano, y2k, man kneeling, bodybuilding

interview by Abe Chabon
photography by Iris Luz and Erika Kamano

Babymorocco loves beautiful women, cheap purple vodka, Gwen Stefani, and bodybuilding. He hates irony, uninspired people, and boring nights. The London-based recording artist has burst drunk, buff, and confidently into the music scene in the past two years with a distinct sound and an entirely original look. He sings about sex, partying, girls, and his ego over bubbling synths, Drum and Bass hi-hats, pounding 808s, and floating basslines. His subject matter is cheap, trashy, and vain, but it has an authenticity and humor that balance his narcissism with charm. ‘Rocco’ doesn't want you to take him too seriously; his aesthetic reflects that. Babymorocco looks like he belongs just as much on stage in a London warehouse as he does in a strongman porno mag. He makes it hard to tell the two apart. If you've seen Babymorocco live, you've probably seen him with his pants off. Sex appeal has always been important to male musicians, Jim Morrison had his long hair and bursting leather pants, Elvis wore unzipped bedazzled jumpsuits, Babymorocco has short shorts, tight T-shirts, and bulging biceps. He’s like a pitbull on a bender. He took a break from recording his upcoming project in the studio to talk. 

Abe Chabon: I'm a big fan. I loved your music as soon as I saw the music video for “Everyone.” You have that line, "They'll say I have narcissistic personality disorder, but when I smile, I don't have to pay for my coffee order." I love that. 

Babymorocco: Yeah, that shoot was a good time. I wasn't even meant to do that in New York. We were meant to do it in London, but they flew me out to do it.  It was really fun.  

Chabon: It looked like a good time. 

Babymorocco: Thank you. Genuinely. It was a peak moment for me because it was when things were getting serious, so to make a video about everyone wanting to look like me felt right. 

Chabon: Your whole look is so good, and I think, especially right now, having a look is so important. And I don't know anyone else who has the bodybuilder thing going on. 

Babymorocco: It works. I don't really test my strength, though. I don't utilize my strength. I just want to look like a pornstar. That's it. 

Chabon: Is that how you would describe Babymorocco? 

Babymorocco: Babymorocco is a part of my life, what I'm doing right now. That's how I describe it. It's my music, it's my art. It's a way to channel a side of me. It's totally me, but it's a way to channel a side of me without having to question it. I believe that as people, we have lots of parts to us, versions of ourselves. Babymorocco is a way that I can express myself the way I want; It's the swaggy, confident side of me.  

Chabon: Do you have to turn it on at a concert before you perform?  

Babymorocco: Oh yeah, totally. Yes. 

Chabon: What's the procedure before going on stage? 

Babymorocco: I do press-ups and get wasted. Usually, having sex before performing is really good for me because I look the most flustered; it makes me look sexier. It gets the adrenaline going. 

Chabon: You are surrounded by a lot of talented people. How did you form your community?

Babymorocco: I mean, I love beautiful women, and I love beautiful women who are on their shit. My friend, Echo Seireeni, is an amazing artist. Ikeda is under my label, Phat Boy; she's also an artist. Erika Kamano is a massive photographer. Iris Luz, a creative director and photographer. These are bad bitches, but bad bitches with a mission. My crew is called The Girlfriends. In truth, they make up Babymorocco. They rule my life; they rule my world. They can slap me, shout at me, scream at me, and I'll come back begging for more every time. That's it. 

Chabon: And you live in London?

Babymorocco: I grew up in Bournemouth, in the south of England. It's a little beach town. I live now in London in a swaggy little house. It's a good time. There are four people. There's a jewelry designer, a photographer, a footballer, and a pop star. And some cats. 

Chabon: Do you think your Moroccan identity shows in your music? Does it contribute to your identity as an artist? 

Babymorocco: My family is from Casablanca, but I am from the UK, so Baby is the English side, and Morocco is the Moroccan side. For a while, people thought that because I was Moroccan, I had to make a kind of sound attributed to that, or I had to speak on it all the time. I think I can just be Moroccan and make pop music without being an ode to Morocco. And I'm sure there will be a time when I do, especially when I go back, but not too much yet. But, in “Crazy Cheap,” my most recent song, there are aspects of Moroccan music, drums, and vocals. There's some essence of being Moroccan in it. That's part of my identity, part of who I am, but that's it.

Chabon: Your ethnicity can be important to you and part of who you are, but it doesn't need to be essential to how you express yourself.  

Babymorocco: I just want to be a Moroccan boy who makes it really big. I want to be on the Wikipedia page of notable pop stars from Morocco. I will be. 

Chabon: When did you start making music, and how did you discover your sound? 

Babymorocco: I properly started making music in 2022, but I only started making and releasing the music I wanted to in 2023. That's when I started working with the producers that I liked, people that I respected, I wanted to make proper real music. I need it to be those synths, that sound that I grew up with. I need it to be UK. I want to create that fun, good time, trashy music, almost to the point where it's kind of shit. My influence is lots of French Electro like Yelle. I also love all of the early Space Cowboy stuff produced for Lady Gaga. And, of course, Avicii. Reality Star music from the UK, like Joey Essex. Bass Hunter is one of my biggest inspirations. There are so many. I can just go on and on with inspirations. The most important thing with music, for me, is an artist that can produce music and it's relevant and popping and swag and emotional; it speaks for itself. It's not trying to be anything specific. I hate genre. Don't try to limit yourself to a sound. Don't box yourself in, let other people do that for you.

Chabon: If you could collaborate with any musician, who's the dream?  

Babymorocco: Who is the fucking dream? Gwen Stefani. But there's so many artists at the moment; who I would like to collaborate with? London feels exciting again. 

Chabon: COVID and quarantine put a freeze on things in art and music. It paused a new youth scene from starting and delayed the development of a culture. But stuff has started picking up again, and an identity is starting to be formed. 

Babymorocco: I feel like people just want to have fun again. And not in an ironic way. We want to have an actual good time. I want to turn up; I want to do trashy shit. There was this time when everything with music had to be ironic to be accepted. It had to be a meme and funny. That was lame to me; it was so overdone; it wasn't authentic; it didn't mean anything. People may think I'm doing that with my music because I mention stuff like sex and partying, but that's very authentic to me. I'm a British boy. I would go to Magaluf, and I would go to Ayia Napa. I've been to all those islands. I've been up since I was thirteen years old.

Chabon: Our generation took irony way too far. It was a way to experiment and do the weird things you wanted, but you could justify if they weren't received well by saying it's ironic.   

 Babymorocco: You can hear when you listen to some music that it's a joke. There is a difference between not being serious and being a joke.  I'm passionate about partying. I'm passionate about women. I'm passionate about the UK. I'm passionate about beautiful things. I love drinking and partying. That's it. That's me. 

Chabon: On a weekend night in London. Where can the people find Babymorocco?

Babymorocco: My friend Rain runs this night called Genesys, and that's a great time.  

Chabon: Talking about the contemporary scene, whether you're looking at Hyper Pop, or the Indie Sleaze revival, or the rave scene, I think that masculinity isn't really something that's embraced. There is an appreciation of the androgynous, experimenting with sexuality and identity, and breaking through gender roles and gender conformity. But you have a very masculine presence that stands out. Do you think about your masculinity? Is that something that you consider?  

Babymorocco: I'm just doing me. I'm not working out to be a man or be healthy. I want to look sexy, swaggy, like a pornstar. At the gym, I'm turning up because the gym and music go hand in hand. The pump of working out properly gets you in that zone to listen to music. 

Chabon: You have a new tape coming out; what does this project mean to you? 

Babymorocco: We're at the studio right now. I've been working with Dear Cupid, who's all about French Electro, and Frost Children are putting the final touches on it. It's going to be another character. It's going to be a spin-off of Babymorocco. He's called Jean-Paul. 

Chabon: Is it important to you to have a distinct identity with each tape?

Babymorocco: Yes, a thousand percent. In this one, Jean-Paul is a French boy. It's like Babymorocco if he was born in France and lost loads of weight. I'm trying to get to your weight because you've got the cheekbones and stuff; that's what I need to get back again. I have to get skinny. I've been cutting weight recently. It needs to be skinny muscle because Jean-Paul is more mysterious. Morocco was a French colony, so I'm reclaiming it. 

Chabon: Can you say when the project's coming out? 

Babymorocco: It's meant to come out in the summer. Coming soon.

Chabon: And with the record label Phat Boy, what's the idea behind that? Are you looking to sign artists? 

Babymorocco: I love music, and I want to keep going in it, and I want to sign beautiful people to beautiful pop beats. And marry those two together. We have a lot coming up. At the moment, It's more of a collective, but I do want to turn it into a proper label. 

Chabon: Have you ever thought about making it  multimedia?

Babymorocco: I would love to, especially with the live shows. I said the other day that I'm so bored of clubs. I want to perform on the beach, at art shows, and installations. I just want to make it crazy. The crazier, the better for me.

Chabon: If you have to get back to recording now, I can let you go. I'm looking forward to the new project.

Babymorocco: Alright, well, thank you a lot, Abe. I appreciate it. And you're going to like the new stuff; it's a massive step up. It's crazy.

A Momentary Surrender: An Interview Of Artist Zoe Chait On Her Solo Exhibition @ Ramiken In Brooklyn

Zoe Chait
projection reflected, 2017-2020
Projections on aluminum panels
9:18

text by Summer Bowie

Capturing Sophie, the late, hyperkinetic pop sensation whose tragic and untimely death shocked and saddened millions around the globe, is like photographing the flight of a butterfly. The prodigious and pioneering musician and producer of avant garde electronic music began her career anonymously making cosmic waves with singles like “Bigg” (2013) and “Lemonade” (2014), worked closely with a number of artists from the notorious PC Music label, and in 2017 came out as a trans woman. Developing an intimate connection with Sophie at such an inflection point was the genesis of Zoe Chait’s Noise, a solo exhibition of portraits that capture an individual who has just emerged from the cocoon with a new and fleeting lease on life. Here and gone in a flash, two artists forge a bond under painfully short exposure. A loving elegy, besotted with adoration. Chait bears witness to the weight of the sublime and the value of the present moment.

You have extensive documentation of Sophie working, creating, living life. When did you first meet Sophie and how did this show come about?

I first met Sophie at the Women's March in LA, right after Trump was sworn in, in January 2017. I remember, she was wearing this big, pink puffer jacket and glasses. She was quiet and her eyes had a curious gaze. We didn't speak much, but walked through the crowd together with another friend, silently processing.

We really came to know each other later that year, when we became neighbours. I rented a room in a very special compound where she lived and worked at the time. It was a wild and beautiful home in the hills. We became close and I began to photograph her. 

Mike [Egan], the founder of Ramiken, lived in the house as well while opening a gallery in LA. We shared a kitchen for many months and hiked the backroads of the canyon almost every morning. Over the years, we’d meet up when in the same city and reminisce about our times in that house. I would catch him up on my adventures living with different people and show him the photographs and films I was working on.  At the beginning of the pandemic he called to ask if I wanted to do a show and we eventually landed on a group of portraits of Sophie. 

What was it like collaborating with someone so intimately on a show like this?

With portraiture, no matter how close I am to the person in the photos or film, I’ve found it’s necessary for the subject to maintain distance from the final piece being created, especially during the edit.

No matter how real I want it to be or how honestly I want to portray the truth of a person, it ultimately becomes my experience of that person when I frame it.

Sophie was encouraging and understood the importance of letting go of the outcome. Her loyalty was to art, whatever it may be. I felt that from her in relation to this work. Even with the material so tied to her as a person, where naturally there could be self-consciousness and the instinct to edit, she supported what I wanted to do and appreciated the gravity of it. There was a lot of trust there, and I feel that how I saw her was one of the ways in which she wanted to be seen.

Can you talk about some of your inspirations?

Vulnerability is the most inspiring thing to me. Sometimes I feel we are living in a simulation of honesty and a performance of openness. When I’m able to witness a kind of raw truth in people and how they move through the world I want to follow that and learn from it. 

Can you talk about some of the mediums that you played around with for these images; is there any connection there to Sophie herself? 

Several of the images in the show are stills from video, for which the process of capturing the material is a different experience than the process of making the object. Sometimes the camera is very present in the interaction, and is a tool to go deeper, inviting the subject to share something that otherwise might remain interior. Other times watching through a frame requires a level of detachment with reality. I’m in an in-between state, physically there, but somewhat unnoticeable. I zoom into and meditate on micro vignettes playing out in a louder scene, searching for the intimacy I’d find in a private setting.

In the editing there is marinating and processing and translating the experience with materials that can come closer to representing the moment than a purely photographic documentation does. 

For example, Touch is made with a delicate, tissue-like organza stretched over a heavy iron frame, which sets its surface away from the wall, revealing its transparency. The feeling is of something I can never fully grasp: held by a strong, heavy support but in essence soft, fragile, fleeting, elusive.

I also printed on aluminum with dye sublimation, playing with the way different surfaces reflect or absorb light. All the choices are in connection to recreating the feeling of the given moment.

 
 

Do you remember Sophie’s coming out in 2018, because that was sort of a milestone moment?

In 2017, when “It’s Okay to Cry” came out we sat on her bed and cried, reading all the tweets of support, encouragement, virtual tears that had been looking for a release. I realized the impact of what she was making and how much the world needed it. 

What did you learn from Sophie over the years? 

She definitely taught me to push things to the edge and pursue what I believe in. Also, to constantly question the reality imposed by the structures outside, and instead listen deeply to what comes up inside; even if it’s soft and quiet, honor it, and live from there. Test the limits. 

In her passing, these lessons have become part of me and redirected me in some way.

Can you say what you learned about yourself?

In the process of grief I’ve felt overwhelmed by the concept of life itself. I’m reminded of how delicate and fragile it all is. It’s essential to honor the impulse we have to create, to be the way that makes us who we want to be, to live in love and to support in any way we can. 

Do you have a memory of Sophie that would describe her well?

I vividly remember a trip I took from my sister’s in Connecticut to visit Sophie at her Airbnb in New York for a few hours in 2018. We hardly spoke but everything was said. A momentary surrender. A new comfort in her body, nude beyond the skin. Breasts illuminated in soft afternoon light diffused by tall buildings. A lime green shirt with cherries on it, discarded on the floor along with a pack of Capri’s. A cigarette inside with Ben. Siblings holding hands. The case of the missing Juul, solved.

Noise is on view through July 24 @ Ramiken 154 Scott Avenue, Brooklyn

Not So Innocent Anymore: An Interview With Actress and Musician Rainey Qualley

Rainey Qualley is gunning for the big time.  It wouldn’t be a big surprise to see her selling out stadiums in only a few years. For now, though, you may know Qualley (who is the eldest daughter of actress Andie MacDowell), for her seductive scene on Mad Men wearing a long chinchilla coat with not much on underneath, coquettishly auditioning for Don Draper’s character during the show’s finale. Lately, Qualley is going in a different direction, for the moment, than her mom and focusing on music. For the past two years, Qualley made a splash in the country music world while living in Nashville – with repeat plays on the radio, opening for Willie Nelson and a set on the iconic Grand Ole Opry. However, pop music is Rainey’s passion and she has moved to Los Angeles with a set of demos and is ready to release a “debut” album of sorts. The pop music she is making is a distant departure from her country hits. Her voice has a tinge of late-90s Top 40 R&B, and when she crashes into her refrains you can hear shades of Sade’s angst and assured sexiness. There is also a Lynchian darkness to her music that blends kitsch and popular music sensibilities, a la Julee Cruise or Chris Isaak. Whatever the case is, her music has plenty of room in the contemporary zeitgeist. We got a chance to catch up with Qualley during her recent transition from recording in New York and moving to Los Angeles, to ask about her quiet upbringing in the country, her passion for pop music, opening for Willie Nelson and what it was like to act half-naked in a fur coat on Mad Men.

Autre: You grew up kind of under the radar, in Montana and then in North Carolina. What was it like growing up there?

Rainey Qualley: Spending my early years in Montana was very idyllic.  I remember playing outside catching salamanders in the streams and riding horses and building forts in the forest.  We moved when I was 9, and I am thankful for my southern roots having grown up primarily in North Carolina.  I think growing up in those areas kept me a little bit sheltered and innocent.  But I was always very eager to move away.

Autre: How did you know you wanted to get out of there, go to Nashville and LA to perform? What was that like?

Qualley: I started dancing when I was 2.  And I grew up in a creative household.  So I've always been drawn to the arts.  I kind of realized I could sing when I was a kid and always loved doing it behind closed doors - I used to be very shy.  My dad taught me to play guitar when I was a teenager.  I went to regular college for two years and hated it.  And then when I was 19 I moved to New York and crashed on a friend’s couch while I figured out what to do.  I didn't really have a plan I just knew I had to start trying.

Autre: You’re based in New York now, do you feel like that’s your new home or do you sometimes dream of going back to country living?

Qualley: I spent the last month in New York writing music.  But I’ve actually been based in Nashville for the past 2 years.  As I write this, however, I am on a plane moving back to LA.  And no, I don't see myself going back to the country.  My dream is to have a little place in LA with my sister where we can have some bunnies and chickens and whatever animals we want in the back yard but still have all the perks of living in the city,     

Listen to an exclusive clip of a track off Rainey's Qualley's upcoming album

Autre: Your sister is a dancer and your mother is an actress, did you ever want to rebel against that and do something completely different?

Qualley: No, I've always wanted to make music and act.  For me, it's really nice having family members who are in similar fields.  We all help each other out and inspire one and other.  Plus we are sympathetic to the difficulties that this kind of profession breeds.  

Autre: You debuted an album, “Turn Down the Lights,” back in June and you have a new album coming out. In the future, do you see acting or music as your primary focus?

Qualley: I think music and acting compliment each other.  I am the type of person who always has to be working on something or else I feel like I'm wasting time.  So having multiple creative outlets keeps me from going crazy.

Autre: “Turn Down the Lights,” is predominantly a country album. What attracts you to that genre and are you going in a different direction on your new album?

Qualley: I actually kind of fell into country music. I took a writing trip to Nashville two years ago and the very first song I wrote started playing on XM radio.  So I was like, "Ok, this seems like it's working out. I should try country music.”  I have had so many wonderful opportunities the past two years - I got to open for Willie Nelson at the Ryman, I played the Grand Ole Opry multiple times - things I only ever dreamed of.  But ultimately, pop music is what I'm passionate about.  The new project I'm working on is entirely different from anything I've released in the past.  And I am aching to share the new songs.  

Autre: What was it like opening for Willie Nelson? 

Qualley: I got to open for Willie two nights In a row at the Ryman auditorium, it was very surreal and humbling. It was also my first big show after signing with CAA so I felt a lot of pressure to impress the agents. And to give a performance worthy of the venue and the headliner. The whole experience was a thrill. The shows were really fun and the audience was incredibly warm. I only got to met him briefly after his show on the second night and he was so cool. Plus I fan-girled and got photos with "trigger" his guitar back stage.

Autre: You had this iconic role in the seventh season premiere of Mad Men. Everyone was talking about this “Mystery Girl.” What was your reaction to entering the spotlight like that?

Qualley: Being on Mad Men was dope.  I hadn't really watched the show before I got cast.  But once I started, I couldn't stop.  So it was cool to have been a part of, even though it was such a small role.  I was only in one scene, so I really didn't expect people to react they way they did.  But it's flattering that people liked the scene.  And no it wasn't my first role.

Autre: You’ve been involved with a few films now, including one with your mom. Can you tell us a little about those projects?

Qualley: I've worked on a few independent films, and they were great experiences.  I've been taking kind of a hiatus from acting to focus on music.  But I'm really excited to get back to LA and start up again.

Autre: What next for you?

Qualley: The big thing on my mind right now is my pop project.  I have about 13 demos recorded already that I am so so so psyched about.  The tough part now is deciding what I like the best.  But I'll be releasing new music soon. 

Autre: Favorite era for music, film culture?

Qualley: I don't really idealize any one era the most.  I love Motown/Soul music so the 60's were pretty great for that.  The 60's also saw some beautiful folk/singer-songwriter stuff come to life.  Sick pop music came out of the 80's and 90's, 2000's.  There's magic in every decade I think.  But, if I could travel back in time I'd like to spend a week or so in medieval civilization.  I'm pretty happy existing right now though.

Rainey Qualley's debut album will drop sometime this summer. In the meantime, follow her on Instagram. Text by Oliver Maxwell Kupper. Photographs by Kevin Hayeland. Follow Autre on Instagram: @AUTREMAGAZINE