Conversation With An Artist in Lockdown: Socalled

Interview by Hollie McGowan

Montreal based musician and artist, Joshua Dolgin, AKA, Socalled, known for his unique blend of klezmer, funk and hip hop is a staple within the Canadian art and music scene. Over the past twenty years, his work has expanded to include theater, film, and puppeteering with other artists and musicians both locally and internationally in addition to his already diverse live solo performance. A national treasure, his work is 100% one-of-a-kind.

Yet by mid-March, like so many other artists who were on a roll in 2020 busy with work while looking forward to what the remainder of the year had in store, COVID-19 caused it all to come to a grinding halt. Now temporarily relocated outside of his home base in Montreal to wait out the pandemic, Socalled has found himself having to reinvent himself as an artist for the time being.

To hear more about his experience, Citrus recently caught up with Socalled to chat about the trials of performing virtually, what the future may or may not hold for artists following a global lockdown, and general artist existential dread during the Coronavirus crisis. Throughout the conversation, laughter proved to be the best medicine. 

Citrus: So I want to start with your performance for #CANADAPERFORMS for the NAC. You comment on the fact that the experience of performing virtually was really uncomfortable and weird for you. You say things like, ‘Ya this isn’t weird at all!’ Tell me more of what was going through your mind at this time.

S: I think there are people in the world that have been developing a way to work on screens and online. Youtubers and Instagram people, Tik Tocking and stuff like that where it's part of their practice. They look into the screen and they say, ‘Hey! How are you doing?’ They are connecting to people and that’s normal, that’s how they operate. Or there’s lots of people that have made the sort of making of their art a part of the process. Like, you see people that are making beats, and they’ll post every day, ‘OK, here I am. Making my beats.’ You’ll see them sampling and working on their stuff in the studio. Their art is showcasing how they’re doing what they’re doing. 

But for me, making beats has always been a private thing that I do secretly, by myself and then I finish it and I put it out. I started out in this music business twenty years ago and it was totally different. What I started out doing was going to studios, making songs, and then when they were done, show them to somebody. Then you go around and you perform live. I’ve seen lots of people come up and are able to move with the times and move with the technology, and it's funny cause I started out as a technologically advanced dude in my world. Like even just using hip hop, and using sampling and all this stuff, I was high tech. I was cutting edge. But I kind of just stuck with what I did and what I do. That’s all to say that of course I also have a social media presence, and I’m also kind of online a bit, but it’s also not my mode. It’s not where I feel most comfortable. 

C: Well that would make sense because you have your own band and you collaborate with lots of other musicians. Your performance also has a lot of audience interaction too. To see you try and do that (virtually), to have that part of the act that you did for the NAC, yet to nobody. To a bunch of little toys on your desk, and telling us to dance! At one point I kind of thought, ‘How many people on the other side of their computer screens are dancing?’

S: Actually some were, which is even crazier. They’ve sent me clips. ‘Here’s the kids.’ And they’re actually dancing! When I did that show, ultimately there’s over ten thousand views of the damn thing. So many nice comments and so many people saying, ‘I love this song!’ It’s a reminder that all this effort I put into this shit maybe was worth it somehow. To have connected with people, to have given people art to enjoy, or made them cry or laugh or whatever. It’s nice to be reminded of that. But then the next day, you’re just kind of sitting here alone and there’s nowhere to go! I used to be isolated and busy working alone. And then I would go out into the world, and there was a nice balance of travelling and meeting people and also being inspired. But now there’s just no end in sight. 

C: It’s hard to say what’s going to happen in the future cause we don’t know. We’ve never lived through this experience before. But how do you imagine things slowly starting to move forward and unfold for you and the people that you work with? How is this effecting your scene in Montreal with theater/music/performance, and the rest of your community around the world? 

S: I have no idea. It’s going to move online for now. I’m trying to suck it up and pretend that it’s fun to do a show online. I did this other show for this thing called Urgent which wasn’t live, so I was able to have a bit more control over how shitty these things look and sound now (in virtual form). Everything is basically happening on your cell phone which has terrible sound and terrible camera. I mean, the camera is fine, but it’s not nice. It doesn’t look beautiful. Not that I’m so much of a narcissist that I must look beautiful. I don’t really care about that, but the sound is a bit of a problem. To be a hip hop guy and playing beats into a microphone the size of a pea, and you’re like pumping fat beats through the internet, live out of your laptop onto somebody’s phone. It’s depressing. But that depression will lead to an evolution and will lead to improvement. 

As for live shows? I just cannot see a concert happening in Montreal in the fall. I can’t imagine 300 people in a room. I can’t see getting on a plane and going to Germany for a festival. I’m not seeing that, maybe not even next year. So when this first happened it was like, ‘OK! Oh shit. My concert is cancelled.’ I was in Germany to sing Yiddish songs with a big band of 17 people. It’s like, ‘This is so fun! It’s the next step of my story and it's happening!’ It took a ton of work to get all that repertoire together and to get a festival to hire a big band. So there I am in Germany, ready to do it and on the day, it got cancelled. It was March 16th or whatever. So at the time it’s like, ‘Shit. My concert is cancelled. Damn. I had a six hour rehearsal and a 20 hours of travel to get to Germany to do the show and it’s cancelled.’ At the time that show was cancelled, there’s no perspective for me. And I was like, ‘Shit. That’s a pain.’ Then I’m like. That’s cancelled, well, the one in 3 weeks is cancelled. The one in four weeks is cancelled. The three week tour in Germany is cancelled. The theater show is cancelled. The other theater show that was going to be next year is cancelled.’

C: Everything is definitely put on pause, things are put on hold, and there’s still a lot of questions about the future. But personally, I’ve seen a lot of people commenting on the fact that art is vital. I think it's ridiculous how much talent we have in this country, yet Canadians as a whole within the mainstream are totally unaware. We’re still looking over at Berlin and down at L.A., and other parts of the U.S., Europe and other parts of the world without recognizing what we have here.

S: Well that’s a whole other rant we could go on about, the middle of the road Canadian music industry is, and how completely fucked up the system is and has been in fostering talent and in propping up these boomer dinosaurs and meanwhile chipping away at the infrastructure of a public broadcaster. Just chipping away at all the resources that it had to support art and build things as its population of builders that aged out of it that still hold on for dear life for control that haven’t even given it over to the next generation.

C: I agree! Do you think that possibly, and I’m a naive optimist, I’ll admit it, but do you think that this whole situation of being in a lockdown could help push us to say, ‘OK, if we start supporting our artists, this could benefit our economy during this recession?’ Or am I just a dreamer?

S: I think you are a dreamer, but it's worth being dreamer. I think that the new way with how things are happening virtually without necessarily all the gatekeepers that did sort of fuck up a free flow of talent and potential. I think people, and maybe through this, will break through internationally in spite of the Canadian media mafia. So there is an element of the democratization of the talent and music, hopefully. 

C: We’re kind of in the middle of the dark ages in terms of art and culture in Canada, and now more so with this pandemic. Virtual performances are not of the quality that artists want them to be. But do you see anything beneficial? Again in the performance you say, ‘I’d have a sound check. I’d have other musicians with me.’ But (in your show) there are moments of pure gold that would never happen otherwise. Like the moment where you walk downstairs and say hi to Mom and Dad. Or when you first walk into the room at the beginning and the camera is not positioned properly, and you walk in the room and all you see is a torso and legs say, ‘Hello!’. Or when Poopsie (your dog) comes and sings on camera with you. It’s actually those moments that bring the vulnerability and the realness and something we all can relate to.

S: I think there’s something to that for sure, and I don't mind that vulnerability as a performer. In fact, I kind of embrace it even in live shows, I like to cut through the bullshit and just try to be real. A lot of the frustration of the live performance thing is just my own personal frustration at wanting to do great. Like when I do a Kurt Weill song I don’t want to fuck it up. I want to play it perfectly and I want to sing it well. What’s great about professional performance is that the technical pitfalls of live performance are mitigated by technicians and preparation so you can be free to perform good music. You’ve also spent a year practicing that song. The preparation is the invisible part of performance.

What I love about performance is the transience of it, the fleetingness of it. You go out on stage and you create this energy. You jump around and you scream and you sweat, but then it's gone and it just exists in (the audiences) imagination and memory. It might suck, but the energy of it was great, and the lighting was fucked up, but it works. And then people leave. With (virtual performance), you record it and you do it live. You’re worried about everybody watching it and analyzing it, zooming in and pausing. And then it's up forever. So all the misgivings you’re having during the show, that’s all there forever.

C: So, you’re having to alter your whole process as an artist right now. 

S: Ya, even that show that I did upstairs in my parent’s house, that’s new. I just put that together this month. So now that is a totally new space of creation that isn’t natural and isn’t what I’m used to. It’s out of necessity because I need to keep active. And I want to! I’d love to make a great song and put it out. But it’s hard to just want, you’ve got to be inspired. It’s just got to happen like magic. It’s like trying to put magic in a bottle.

C: What are you learning about yourself as an artist in this experience? 

S: That I needed a system. I needed a structure. I need to know what I’m doing the next day. I like to have a schedule where it's like, ‘Ok, on Friday I’m going to do a show. It's Monday and in order to get to Friday I need to set up what I’m going to do all week.’ It lets you pace yourself and it lets you practice at the right rate. It lets you achieve mini goals to get you to the final goal. Right now I have no deadlines. So I have to make little goals for myself.

C: What I’m hearing from you too is that it’s not just the structure that you had in place that you had been used to for quite a while, but also the interaction with the rest of your band and the rest of the people that you work with.

S: Ya, or even just strangers or audiences. 

C: Right, the audience participation like the magic tricks and getting people to get up and dance. We saw that in your virtual show, but it’s also a part of your regular show. There’s a relationship that you build with your audiences. Comedy is a big element of your show and your act. There was still a lot of Socalled in that virtual show, aside from the obvious which is you performing your songs. It was great to see the adaptation of what you do but in virtual form. 

S: It’s like another layer of postmodern self-awareness.

C: Toward the end, you mention doing virtual magic shows for birthday parties. How would that work?

S: I used to be a busker when I was twelve years old. I knew one song on the accordion, the Godfather theme song, and I played that over and over again. I was a cute little kid so I would make money. I also did magic shows as a teenager, but I kind of hated it. I hated being a dancing monkey and I hated being a busker and I hated begging with my art. That’s why when I got into the music business it was so cool to have dignity and not be a busker. I respect buskers, that’s a crazy art doing that. But it wasn’t really my thing. I don’t love that and I feel this new (virtual) way is sort of that. It’s like, everybody is out walking and there’s all these entertainers at every corner, and can you get their attention? Can you get their loonie in your hat? 

Another thing I have been thinking about is how people who aren’t performers might not quite understand the sort of fitness that is required for performance. When I did that show (for the NAC), I hadn’t done a show for a month, and I tried to practice to get ready for it. But to get a repertoire together is a lot of work. You gotta get in shape for it like as if you were a jock. And so there’s some sort of idea like, ok, you can’t do that now, but will you be able to in a few months? You can’t just turn it on and off. It’s not a faucet. So great, in a year I’ll do a show. But that’s a year of not doing shows. And it's a year of not getting to play with other musicians and not getting out in front of crowds and not honing that skill. It’s like growing pains. It’s really disrupting this world. And the entertainment world in particular, this world that I’m in. It’s almost the most hard hit one. I think sports could be as hard hit.

C: Well when you use the words growing pains, I think that’s a good word to focus on. And admittedly, I am an optimist, but it’s important to be a realist too. If you look at Dr. Suess’ story ‘Oh The Places You’ll Go’, he basically says ‘You’re going to go through some shit. Like, you’re going to grow up and there is going to be some shitty moments, but you’re going to come out of it.’ So I think the word that you use, growing pains, is a really important thing to focus on.

S: Right on, but I don’t think Dr. Suess would have even thought about this shit. I feel a little guilty as a person with resources. Like, I have no excuse to, which is hard as an artist to feel like, well, I still have all my paints. Like I’ve got all the paints that I need and I’ve got blank paper so its like, ‘Shut the fuck up and paint! Make a great painting!’ Like, I’m sitting here in my room here and I’m like, ‘Well, I have all these keyboards.’ I have them plugged into my computer and there’s nothing keeping me from sitting down and making a song. But it's just like the existential angst keeps creeping back.

C: I think it's important to remember that there’s a lot of people right now talking about being super productive during the quarantine. Like, ‘I’m being so productive! Look at this bread that I baked!’ And then other people are like, ‘You know what? We’re collectively going through a trauma and it’s totally natural and a part of the process that a bunch of us, in fact most of us are going to shut down.’ So this idea that you’ve got to be productive, I think it’s more important to just let yourself go through these motions. And that’s why I thought what was coming out of your virtual performance for the NAC was real. All the existential questions that you asked (your audience) through the camera. That became a part of (the show) and a part of the artist process for you. 

S: It’s weird for me cause usually I’m a very productive person. Like through thick and thin, I just secretly am working on my shit. So it's a weird time to be that guy who's normally a very productive person especially in my artistic practice. I’m always working on my next record and writing. It’s hard to be in the prime of my life (during a pandemic) and wanting to be active and making my mark in the world. I guess I feel like someone during the war years. Like, ‘Sorry there’s been upheaval in the world and it's keeping you from realizing yourself.’ And then you talk to people who have survived the war and they go on to making something of themselves and participating in finding a path. So I guess I’ll see you on the other side. 

C: There’s more to come for sure! Are there any more Socalled shows that we can look forward to virtually?

S: You know what? It’s funny, as you were saying, there was this flurry (of virtual performances) and now there’s not. And also cause I haven’t set myself up for one. Some people are like, ‘Every Thursday I’m going to be singing a new tune!’ No, I’m not that guy. So for the time being, no. But I have secretly started filming myself doing magic tricks and so if nothing else comes along, I’m going to be doing that at some point. And I’m making the beats and I’m sending shit around the world to all my friends to collaborate and there’s going to send shit back. Shit’ll happen.

C: Shit’s happening! So there is collaboration, or potential for collaboration?

S: Ya, maybe even more than before in a way, and maybe even more being in touch with people than before. And having long heart to heart talks with old friends. That’s happening a lot which is awesome. All this regrouping and kind of just trying to make sense of it and cheering each other up and cheering each other on. And trying not to be too annoyed by all of the noise, and being part of the noise, and trying not to be too pissed off by your own noise.

C: That’s been one of the most beautiful things to witness throughout this whole thing is just the amount of support at least that the artists have with each other. It’s vital. I definitely thank artists such as yourself and so many others who have been doing the work that they’ve been doing during this time. 

S: And thank you for your interest and talking about this shit! It’s important too of course.