INTERVIEW : DAR-K
Interview by : Sébastien Jobart
Pictures by : DR
on Monday, November 14th 2011 - 8 287 views
There are two Dar-Ks: the one from the sound system school, and the one we have seen emerging since the second album "Crescendo" in 2010, more chanson and soul. With the label Arkaya Music, they do things "little by little": "We're not well known, but we already have a discography, we've built foundations."
This year's winner of the European Reggae Contest France, he won the interview promised to the winner, as well as a place in the European final in Barcelona. If he doesn't win, he will be given the Special Jury Prize, which sends him to Rototom for the second time. Backed by Le Cargo (the contemporary music venue in Caen), he will play a free concert at La Boule Noire in Paris on 17 November. Interview.
Reggaefrance / How did your musical education come about?
Dar-K / I grew up in urban music culture. Around 12, I wrote my first lyrics while listening at full blast to NTM or Assassin, Wu-Tang. In the sort of youth centre, with the older kids and the neighbourhood youth workers... Like everyone of my generation, I got hit hard by Raggasonic's first album and I spent hours and hours with the booklet in front of me, singing and trying to go as fast as Daddy Mory... I was really ragga-hip-hop at the time, I rode fast-style, it was my trademark. But I also wanted to say things, to get deeper messages across. Fast style is for the show. Hence the two sides. But since the beginning, I've done fast-style, singing, lovers stuff too. For me reggae is the perfect music for writing love songs. I try to cultivate these three areas, much like what I listen to at different times of the day: heavy Vybz Kartel, Anthony Hamilton or Gentleman.
Did you know the sound system world?
No, not at all. When I started recording myself on a little piece of software on my PC, it was mostly over hip-hop instrumentals. And in fact, at 14, I didn't know the word "riddim". I recorded tracks like that and played them around at school. One day, a guy told me about a specialist shop, the one run by Killa Bee of 220 Sound. We met, and he invited me to come to the parties they organised and to take the mic. That's where I discovered sound system parties, pull ups, I lost my mind. Néko, formerly the selecta of 220, took me everywhere back then. So I was affiliated with 220, since I was always hanging around with them. With the Original Fyah Crew, we created the sound of the same name, of which I'm the singer.
And in 2003, you released your first mixtape, "Maximum".
From hanging around the 220 sound parties, I was able to identify which of my tracks worked best. I recorded them on this mixtape, in the 220 studio, with local artists: I was super happy to have Khalifa, from Positive Radical Sound, and there were also the mates from the neighbourhood. With that spirit of a young guy who's hungry and makes riddims... The mixtape sold well, I was happy. One track went beyond the sound system scene, Il te faut ta pedo. We were surprised by the success. We made a video on a shoestring, and people still talk to me about it. The track reached the hip-hop scene as well as the ravers. I was able to see that in prison, where concerts are organised and where I take part in writing workshops with inmates.
Afterwards I released two other really local projects, a collection of dubplates for my sound, and another, slightly crunk release, that was my thing... Then I got tired of voicing riddims, I wanted to work with compositions and bring my own thing. All with the idea of being able to live from this passion for music... I met a backing band from Caen, Burning Blend. We clicked straight away and decided to work together on an album. It was mostly with David, the band's keyboardist and sound engineer. I'd turn up with my guitar, him with his keyboard, and that let us sketch out the tracks.
 Je n'arrive pas à trouver mes textes crédibles quand ils sont joyeux 
Is that how the first album came about?
We weren't at all thinking of putting together an album, we just wanted to write tracks for me to lay my lyrics on. Little by little, the compositions got refined. Meanwhile, we played a few dates, and we were spotted opening for Alborosie by Le Cargo, the contemporary music venue in Caen. It was a support scheme, and that's what allowed us to be professionals today.
You've developed a more chanson, more melancholy side.
Actually, I find it hard to write happy stuff. I think that's where it comes from: I can't find my lyrics credible when they're happy. Except for love songs. So I try to make more "entertaining" songs, because an album of nothing but street is a bit boring, but I don't feel at ease with it. In fact, the themes I want to talk about are hard things... I'm happy in life, mind you, everything's fine! But it's true that my lyrics aren't very cheerful.
In Ma Génération, you sing "We have no war, no revolution". Does today's youth lack battles to fight?
No, there's no lack of battles. But I feel like we put up with more than our elders, that we keep our mouths shut. We're a well-brought-up generation, we've really absorbed the fact that there are powerful people and that we have no choice, that we shut up and everyone goes their own way. I feel like before there was more of the idea of "They represent us and if we disagree, they'll hear from us". Today, we put up with it, and me first: I don't pick up my placards to go and protest, I stay in my corner grumbling and writing songs.
Once again, it's a disillusioned observation.
Yes, absolutely, over a rather childlike melody, as if it were coming out of a music box. But trying to have thoughtful, conscious lyrics.
Another text, Petit bout de métal, and again a serious subject, arms trafficking.
All the damage we do to ourselves... I like metaphors, I find it much more beautiful to say things that way. For example, I have a song called Petite fille that is about paedophilia. I have no desire at all to say "Paedophiles, fyah bun"; others have done that before me. Even though this theme shocks me, I prefer to talk about it by telling a story that will seem gentle on first listen. But if you look a little closer, you realise it's hardcore. Petit bout de métal is exactly that: saying "little piece of metal" rather than "bullet"... and talking about it as if I were the piece of metal...
Releasing a new mixtape, "Maximum 2", is that a way of going back to your first loves?
Exactly, that way I can allow myself to write lighter lyrics, even if, as we said, I find it hard to do. Like that piece of fun about Calvados, which is my region. Tripping on how Busta Rhymes represents cognac, or Booba, Jack Daniels... Me, I represent calva! It was also a chance to work with mates from my region, just to let off steam before tackling the next album, which will perhaps be sadder.
With Arkaya Music, is the idea to do everything on your own?
Today, it's complicated for a reggae artist to sign to a major. We're not here waving the flag of independence, we're open to any partnership, but for the moment we couldn't be more independent: we have no subsidies, nothing... We make do.
So you do things the way you feel them...
If I had to go to a major and was told to do a duet with some artist I don't like, I think I'd rather go back to my independence, because I've always had that freedom. Even if we live modestly, we still manage to live from our music and that's already wonderful in itself. It will last as long as it lasts, but for the moment we're enjoying it: we make music, we travel, we meet people...
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