HEADS KNOW TAPE 009: DJ Haram
An interview and DJ mix from the Brooklyn-based anti-format multidisciplinary propagandist.
Photo: Sultana G.
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DJ Haram is sitting in a black hoodie, smoking a blunt when I call her on Zoom on this random Tuesday afternoon. She's getting ready to head to the Azores on the Portuguese island of São Miguel. Tremor Festival is happening the next day, and she’s set to perform. "I feel like my life is a series of going places and settling in places," she tells me.
Being comfortable with flux comes naturally for the self-proclaimed "anti-format multidisciplinary propagandist." After all, the only reason she ended up in Philadelphia was because squatting in Brooklyn became impossible. It even rings true to her artistry—being a community organizer while making zines and throwing parties led to her DJing, and she was collaborating with Moor Mother as a live beatmaker before officially becoming a producer. Things falling into place is par for the course for DJ Haram, which is seemingly why she's not afraid of what might happen next. "Allah or some other demonic force put me on this earth with $0 and ill leave that way if i have to," she once tweeted.
Her fearless and relentless composition is what draws people to her. She's not afraid to speak her mind just as much as she's not afraid to clear the dancefloor. As someone who's often seen as unhinged, DJ Haram has been a reminder that we don't need to succumb to the forces that try to censor or restrict us, and we're grateful that—even though she doesn't like mixes—she blessed us with a 30-minute tape that spans the spectrum of music and sound. Check it out and read our interview below.
Content warning: The tape includes graphic audio of Aaron Bushnell's act of self-immolation.
I just listened to your mix before this call and it was so great. What was the idea behind it and what can people expect from it?
I feel like people are really struggling right now with their sad little playlists and even the track selection and the presentation of music are really lacking. There's a lot of cool perspective, understanding and connection you can have with music and how it's presented. So I wanted to do the mix to contextualize and share my work with a variety of influences that I think people who really enjoy any of my work could enjoy those other things.
I don't do mixes very much, so I had to conceptually link it to other mixes I've done. I kind of see this as a follow-up to this mix I did called "Overdrive" that I put out a couple of years ago. It's on Apple Music, which is annoying because you have to have that DSP to listen to it. It's noise, rap, dance and a little bit of hardware live elements in a DJ set, which I feel is one of my signature styles. It's kind of everything in one place.
I think some DJs would call their work open format, but I think I would go with "anti-format." I feel like when people listen to my stuff, you kind of have to fuck with me, my taste, production and what influences me. Sometimes I can DJ in a way that's for the dancefloor, and other times I DJ in a way where it's like you don't have to listen to it if you don't like it, which is anti-format. I just decided that right now.
Did you just come up with that term?
I did. Just for you.
Would you consider yourself a journalist or what would you say your role was with Bros Fall Back?
I was a zine-maker. I don't think I've ever done anything I would consider journalism. I took a journalism class in high school and I thought I was so cool. When I dropped out of school, my journalism teacher—who gave me an A—said that I was very civilized for dropping out and I was like, "Bitch what the fuck does that mean?"
No really. What did she mean by that?
I have no idea. I was like, "You should have told me 'Don't drop out, girl.'" I guess it was maybe because I didn't drop out because I was pregnant or going to juvie. I was dropping out for a "civilized" reason outside of emergency.
Anyway, I was more of a zine-maker propagandist. That's my new bio. Multidisciplinary propogandist.
Anti-format multidisciplinary propagandist. I like that.
See, the books are going to remember because I'm telling you.
Exactly. I was wondering if you considered yourself a journalist because I feel like you fuck with journalists. I mean, you had Dylan Green and I both on your Lot Radio show.
Well, y'all are cool. Who else is a journalist that I fuck with? Not many of them. billy woods used to be a journalist. *Laughs* I feel like it's hella hard out here for journalists to actually be working in the capacity that [you and Dylan] do, which is maybe why I can't think of anyone to compare y'all to. I don't know, but I just fuck with people who have critical opinions on culture—underground culture or even pop culture. I even love stuff like Wendy Williams' "Hot Topics." But if y'all are studying and engaging music in the scene so much that it's evident to me as a DJ doing the same thing, in my own way, I'm like then you probably have a really valid playlist. It's not that deep.
Do you agree with the quote that DJs are music journalists?
Isn't that your quote?
No, I stole it from someone.
Maybe not all DJs are journalists or archivists because there are real parts that are necessary for it to last and be useful to society. As you know, there's a lot of technical admin work as a journalist and presenting information to people and that kind of thing. So to certain degrees, yes, [DJs can be journalists], but more for some than others. We're telling stories, even unintentionally, as DJs. Even DJs that play shitty pop music—that's essentially capitalist propaganda—are telling the same story that's really shitty. It's all data.
So good DJs can be good journalists and shitty DJs can be shitty journalists.
Yeah, pretty much.
I'm trying to get this timeline straight: Zine-maker, event promoter, DJ, producer.
I was more of an anarchist activist organizer at the beginning of this timeline, but I found that I connected with, and my time was best being used, doing cultural things as an organizer. So shows and brings the element of music into protests. When you do so-called community organizing, you need people involved that are like your people. I felt like the music people and art people were my community. So I moved from there to organizing shows, because they're a great place for mutual aid, culture, and spreading ideas through zines—so throwing shows and making zines all combine.
For a couple of years when I was curating events, I was always very into improv and noise stuff, accessibility and experimentalism. You didn't have to be formally trained, so I was always trying to make music when I could—just fucking around—but I was more comfortable being a host at shows. Then, I started playing some club music between the bands because the gays wanted to dance. I was just like, "Let me just actually learn how to DJ." I was living with DJs in Philly who would have house parties and rent parties. I think doing DJ stuff was actually able to generate more money. And playing songs that people already made was easier than making my own songs and making my own set.
The music I make has never sounded much like the music I DJ anyway. But then, I started making remixes and my first continuing collaboration with Moor Mother pushed me into being a producer. I'll always credit her because I really feel like she was someone who told me to make beats when I didn't even want to make beats. We were both fucking with horrorcore and Three 6 Mafia and she said, "Make me some shit like that," so I tried.
So 700 Bliss was formed before you actually started making beats.
I kind of started making beats and making edits for our sets, which is more similar to the tradition of MC and DJ. I'd play club music and she would chant and do almost a hook-style thing—tell people to shake their ass and host the set. Sometimes I'd DJ for her and play her backing tracks and she would request that I find the instrumental for her and mix it with something, so I slowly went to making edits, going from just DJing with a host to having some of our own beats. So yes, technically we were collaborating and doing stuff before I was making beats.
What was the moment that made you realize music was going to be a big part of your life?
That's such a cute question. I feel like I connected to music in a very special way my whole life, but I don't think it was until I was an adult that I realized that I wanted to make music and that music was something that was really for me and what I was about. I was telling you earlier about how I started out by throwing shows and had this utilitarian role of hosting, getting together resources and introducing people, and that felt really good to me, but I think just the way I was raised—I was raised in a more conservative way—it felt unrealistic. Being an artist felt like it was only for privileged people. But I do feel I always connected to music in a very special way. From getting CDs to Limewrie or iPods to having my own tape deck. I feel like I've always been obsessed with music and sound.
The first thing that came to mind was just being a kid and going to weddings. That was such a rare and joyful thing for me, and I think it's unique to my culture and my experience because of, like I was saying, I felt like music didn't belong to me. In Middle Eastern cultures, weddings are the place where we can party. Especially for Muslims, we don't be clubbing and a lot of things are gender-segregated. Weddings are the functions where you meet bae—that's where you go for everything. That's where the coolest music gets played. I just remember my uncle would play the darbuka and the accordion, people would just be doing dabke live, these really cool dances, and just being involved. I think live music always really spoke to me and that's why when I was in high school, I was always lying and sneaking out to go to DIY shows. I was really into shit being loud and in the room with me.
If the dancefloor clears, what song do you use to bring everyone back?
If the dancefloor clears, I'm like "fuck yes!" It means I'm playing the shit that I want to play and some shit that I think goes hard as fuck. You know how many times a 700 Bliss track has cleared the floor? I'm just like, "Y'all are refusing fine art right now." And that's all part of the lore.
… Or if I'm in a good mood and I love the people that are there and I want them to dance, I'll probably play Mike Gip or Megan Thee Stallion.
If the music, people and sound system make a party good, what makes a party great?
If it's at someone's house and the cops don't show up.
Is there anything I haven't asked about that you want to talk about or anything you'd like to promote?
I want people to know I'm touring in May and for the first time, I'm doing live solo shows. I'm still rolling out the dates.
This interview has been edited for clarity and length.
Follow DJ Haram on Instagram, Twitter, TikTok, SoundCloud and Bandcamp. See when she’ll be in your city next via Resident Advisor.
TRACKLIST
DJ Haram - Fuck Around And Find Out
DJ Haram - Bushnell Meditation
Moor Mother - Death by Longitude
Dis Fig and The Body - To Walk a Higher Path
Heavee - Whiplash
serpentwithfeet – Hummin'
Megan Thee Stallion – God's Favorite
DJ Haram - Get It (feat Orion Sun)
700 Bliss - ID
Nemahsis – i wanna be your right hand
Armand Hammer – Which Way Is Up (Noise Edit)
MONEYNICCA - Kiss of Death
Falyakon - Yarghou
