gum.mp3 & Swami Sound are Declaring a State of Emergency
Nathan Evans' UK garage and club music column covers the latest songs, remixes, bootlegs, mixes and albums that capture his attention. This edition is a fascinating interview with eldiaNYC crew members gum.mp3 and Swami Sound.
Subscribe to the KEYMAG Substack to receive email notifications on new editions of NUKG Monthly.
As two-thirds of the New York collective eldiaNYC, North Carolina-born gum.mp3 and Bronx native Swami Sound have created a thriving community in New York’s Mi Sabor Cafe, built upon both US and UK club sounds. Alongside Canarsie producer Dazegxd, gum and Swami’s clash of jungle, garage, deep house, techno and R&B has become one of the most celebrated post-pandemic parties in the city - so much so that it has even ventured to Tokyo - and produced music that Resident Advisor and Pitchfork have acclaimed. All three of the trio’s music presents an admiring relationship to technology in their own way, all anchored by strong political and musical axioms - the direct influence of Black dance music forefathers, the diligent archival of information, and so on.
Swami rose to prominence as a purveyor of what was dubbed “NYC garage”, a label he’s distanced himself from in order to properly pay respect to the original sound while still pushing forward a sound of his own, and for New York. Swami Sound and NUKG Monthly go way back: his 2023 album Back In The Day was reviewed in one of its earliest columns. At the time, I said the project, “slot-machines through R&B, garage, atmospheric drum & bass and CD-era electronica, his subdued and reflective songwriting congealing it all.”
If Swami is the Thomas Bangalter of the operation - the production wizard with folders crammed with ideas - then gum is Guy-Man. Both are strong philosophers, but working together for the first time on a full-length project, gum instils a firm stance on what their output should be, making sure that all conversations surrounding it take a small step in finding what the pair are looking for. Thoughts leading to feelings.
The result is their first collaborative album, State of Emergency. Its urgent title is a reflection of their view of culture in 2025 - grown stale thanks to the internet they once adored turning into an algorithmic hellscape - with them feeling the need to course-correct. It can be heard in the way they concoct a number of patient builds that often swerve into unpredictable left-turns, like the tearing dubstep that all-of-a-sudden rips through noxious breakbeat garage on the opening track. “BLKHISTORY” disrupts a breaksy, over-the-limit freakout by turning down the lights to focus on the sort of late-night sophisti-soul that Romanthony dreamt of crooning on. Swami’s progressive synthwork etches its way in, while gum’s bluesy tendencies manifest in the cycling vocal performances from Kamaal, m.e.r. and Fifi Zhang. Back In The Day certainly had a nostalgic streak, but State of Emergency searches for some way out of the present by striving towards something new.
In many ways, State of Emergency mirrors Introspekt’s Moving the Centre, a record that similarly responds to the growing staleness of UK garage by turning towards the more cerebral and deep Afrocentric sounds of early dubstep and garage crossover - of Benny Ill, Mala, Benga and Horsepower Productions. Where Introspekt charted course for that specific sound along with the concept, gum and Swami started with the discussion, spelunked for an audio representation of it, and found themselves somewhere close to that same era.
Amidst a week where gum is at home doing chores and clerical work, and Swami is out on the road in Detroit between shows in Seattle and Washington D.C., the duo sat down for a compelling interview about the happenings in dance music that led to this album’s creation. The conversation made me feel as though some part of the future is in good hands.
gum, what was life like growing up in North Carolina?
Very insular and remote. I’m basically from the middle of nowhere, which is kind of awesome because I went to school with a bunch of black people. I played a bunch of sports, was on the internet unsupervised for way too much, played a bunch of video games, played competitive Call of Duty for a bit. It’s interesting looking back now because my world is so much bigger and my sense of global culture and politics is so much bigger. My life up until the age of 18 was so small.
Conversely, Swami, what was life like growing up in the Bronx?
Swami: The Bronx was a little rough here and there. My biggest takeaway from growing up in the Bronx was being in so much culture but also on the negative side, wealth disparity. Growing up in New York in general, you see both sides of the coin. Taking the train to school everyday, you see how New York transforms as you move towards the centre of it. Also, seeing gentrification happen in real time. It’s marvellous but also sad but you learn more and more how much control you can have over your life if you’re open to this place. The more I travel and see the world, the more I realise that growing up here is one of the best thing that’s ever happened to me.
The more I think about growing up, it wasn’t entirely super sweet, either. Being racially profiled super young puts things in perspective. But being able to experience the small privileges of life as well, it shaped me to become a well-rounded individual. It’s taught me cultural humility, patience, anticipation and drive. I still learn so much from staying here.
Often producers copy a particular song which leads to their production chops, what song did you try to copy in your early production days?
gum: I would say async by Ryuichi Sakamoto. This is before I figured out I wanted to make dance music, I was making weird ambient, pseudo-neo-classical stuff. I can’t even read music, so I don’t really know what I thought I was doing [laughs].
Swami: The song that really influenced how I use Ableton now is “Since I Left You” by the Avalanches. That song taught me about micro-sampling, knowing what the sample is, drum breaks and using acapellas. It taught me everything about sampling, how they used Lamont Dozier’s “Take Off Your Make Up” break and recognising them in other songs. That’s the crux of making breaks bass music is knowing how to chop up breaks, but also recognising them and shaking them to do specific things so they mould themselves into clear indications of genre.
With that Avalanches album, it’s disco but it doesn’t even scream electronic. It just feel like listening to a DJ, just through production.
Swami, you got noticed really quickly when you started making garage, being labelled as “the father of NYC Garage”. You kind of had to learn on the job. How do you think that influenced your outlook on the music over time?
Swami: I’m glad you brought it up because there are some regrets I have with the way I engaged with garage initially. Learning on the job is such a good way to put it, because I had to do a lot of research over time. My biggest takeaway from it now is shutting the fuck up was the most essential part. I care so much about this stuff, but I think the most important thing is to soak it all in before I start spewing a bunch of stuff I don’t know about. And also accept that I was a lot younger, more impressionable and excited by this new exciting age of dance music over the internet. Being a poster child, I wasn’t aware that the more I stood on this soapbox, the more I boxed myself in. As soon as I realised I was boxing myself in, I did some research and let the music speak for itself. I’m grateful for discovering the music so fast, but I took it upon myself to responsibly hone into my craft a little deeper, rather than the surface. At the end of the day, I like to produce good music, and now I’m privileged to be at this point where people are paying attention can understand that I’m contributing a higher sense of detail. I’m approaching it with even more care than I had in the first place. I can approach my music but also the legacy of the genre and the diaspora of electronic music with a level of humility and with an understanding that I’m not original. And that’s actually the most comforting thing.
On the flip side, coming into it without that knowledge meant that you could produce with less rules and it allowed you to show more local identity through the music, like how the hi-hats were inspired by Brooklyn drill.
Swami: That’s kind of the sneaky thing about it. It’s not like I went back to the drawing board to figure out how to do it right - I just shut up. I did it secretly, so you hear a signature rather than me explaining what it is just so people can say buzzwords. I don’t even want to talk about it anymore [laughs]. I recently tweeted “growth is ignoring any discourse about any musical genre ever”.
Swami, in an interview you once said, “in music there's no such thing as an emergency.” State of Emergency is a very loaded title, sounds very urgent.
Swami: That quote, I was responding to me working on Back to the Day deluxe CD and I literally submitted the wrong bounce, so by the time the CD’s came, it had the wrong bounce on it. I hit up the person I was working with, and there was like “you’re good”. My distributor said, “it’s good, there’s no emergency, just reupload the right bounce and the right CDs will come”.
Gum: My perspective on it is that… I’m trying to say it without being condescending. I feel like we’ve got into a certain cultural crisis. Part of it is algorithmic culture is stifled social interactions and cultural criticism that isn’t earnest enough and deep enough. It’s not like this one album isn’t gonna solve that either, more so, it’s indicative of a certain stance. A certain commitment to detail and rigour and sensibility to cultural influence and cross-pollination. That’s what music is all about. How can share that with people in a socially responsible way? How can we embrace nightlife and dance music in a way that’s both progressive and protective of its original qualities? How can we prevent its degradation due to commercialism and algorithmic culture?
Anything to add, Swami?
Swami: Catchy title.
[All laughs]
Swami: I completely love what gum said about it. It’s a deep honour to share a project with him because his practice is something that I’m very much inspired by. Him being my best friend, it’s important I listen to him in this moment while we both deliver our responsibilities whether it’s philosophically or musically. That’s the sense of responsibility that we bring to the table when it comes to this emergency that we feel music is encountering. But also, socially, politically.
Course correction.
Swami: Exactly. As well, I just wanted to bring up the speed garage epidemic. I feel like that’s also the emergency, lowkey. This record is him and I responding to that. There are no 4x4 tracks, and that was on purpose.
What sounds were you trying to evoke on this project?
Swami: There is loads of dubstep in it. And initially what informed that sound was me listening to Calibre’s early 2020s albums. I was like, ‘wow, this is awesome, spacious transformative, I’m in this. Let me see what I can bring to the table after listening to it’.
gum: I don’t have much to add, mainly because that’s not how I think about making music. I remember when we first talked about “Strip Game”, the original of it was a drill garage mix, and now it sounds totally different. My contributions to the album was less concerned with putting together the actual instruments. Of course, I had a hand in writing songs, recording demos, recording vocals and stuff, but where I was more concerned was trying to tie the album together with an ethos. Trying to figure out how our decisions in arrangement, in vocalists, in instrumentals, could reflect in the visual aesthetics. And how we think and talk about the album.
I feel like the average American struggles to talk about instrumental dance music in a way that’s articulate and doesn’t rely on buzzwords. It’s not like the album is fully instrumental, but part of what helped the album coalesce into this signature sound is figuring out how to talk about the album amongst ourselves and in press releases. Developing that type of language helped the rest of the album solidify itself.
Words definitely have a certain psychological power, and it’s better for us as artists to get ahead of that. Even with Black Life, Red Planet figuring out a lexicon around that before other people start talking about it was important to me. Even if no-one talks about this project, the way we talked about it, hope was imbued into the project and it will affect how it’s received by others.
Swami: Coming off of Back in the Day and thinking more critically about how I talked about that project, the way I engaged with gum on this project was like an assignment to talk about the project at least a little bit every time we saw each other. To be able to pre-emptively have a good understanding of how we’re going to engage with and interrogate this album, that’s important. To be prepared on what to say. It’s all like we media-trained ourselves behind the project, but it’s not as contrived as that. We’re like, ‘how can we have a proper, healthy discourse around this music in a way that we can feel comfortable with everything that we said about it as the future goes on?’. We’re both articulate people, and it’s important that our learnedness can be apparent through this project.
I love how you guys play with structure on State of Emergency. Like a track like “Strip Game”, despite being six minutes long, it only has one drop, and that makes it so much more earned. How did you guys go about learning tobe patient with song structure?
gum: Swami is the goat. That’s all I have to say on that. I always felt like arrangement was his strong suit, ever since I began to know about his music. Which is something that is not my strong suit at all. A lot of the way I approach dance tracks in particular is really modular, especially sample-based stuff. Not that one way is better than another. I’m just okay with a minimal and repetitive arrangement and within that, a certain amount of detail and imagery and eclecticness. But I feel like Swami’s approach to music is so dynamic and so rich. I wish people could hear what these songs sounded like before and after, because it felt I would do a little demo, like, ‘this is what I got’. And I would get his first draft back and I would be like, ‘oh! Okay fire!’ [laughs]. It’ll be like an actual song. [Like Call of Duty Zombies,] I put something into the mystery box and then I’m like, ‘pack-a-punch, please!’ [rubbing hands together].
Swami: That’s a perfect way to say. A lot of songs here are me interacting with gum’s ideas. “BLKHISTORY” literally started as a 10-second break loop. I was like, ‘let me turn it into an entire song that has an R&B gospel breakdown with vocals in it.’ It’s my imagination working very interestingly and the best part is that it’s an exchange, in a way. That’s the beauty of the project, you hear the response and the faith that gum put in this idea.
For example, “Strip Game”, I was familiar with it in its earlier versions, and it was a big responsibility of mine to get rid of everything about this and turn it into something completely different. It was pretty ballsy, honestly. The drop in general, that was informed by years of DJing. Being a dynamic DJ, being a dynamic performer, it all plays into it. A 2 minute-long break? Sometimes you need it just for the crowd to go bonkers.
I love the atmospheres on this album. It reminds me of MJ Cole in that it’s atmospheric without it necessarily being dark, like dubstep dark. I think that’s what is missing from modern-day garage, is garage that leans back and takes in an atmosphere, without it necessarily being dark garage.
gum: I feel like I always have a space-oriented vibe in my music, especially after Black Life, Red Planet. That was really a holdover from Time Traveller, space is really my jam. I’m kind of obsessed with it. Before I even thought of myself as an Afrofuturist - which, I don’t even know if I consider myself one anymore - it definitely has shaped the signature of how I approach music. I feel like the ripples of Black Life Red Planet will continue to show up in my music going forward because that’s also a very atmospheric album. But I don’t think I do anything in particular consciously, it’s more like I get on Ableton and am like, ‘yep, this sounds like I’m on Mars! Cool!’ I’m always on Analogue Lab looking for the spacey pads like, ‘yeah, this scratches that itch’.
Swami: It’s another instance of us responding to each other. I respond really well to atmosphere, it’s one of my favourite parts of making a song. To the MJ Cole influence, my most listened-to album is the classical crossover album he did, Madrugada. When you think about mixing, atmosphere being part of the low and high midrange is what contributes heavily to the loudness of a song. When you get the sound design to feel good, that is a big influence. Between my last project and this project, I’ve learned how to get the mixes right - shoutout to our mixing engineer Jason Park, who contributed kind of like Chad Hugo while we were mixing, like, ‘let’s take this out, let’s put this in’. It meshed well and it made me realise that if you get involved into the composition and mixing of everything, you can always get a good atmosphere.
I don’t think people talk about that MJ Cole record. That’s one of my favourite records, I have it on vinyl, I literally listen to it all the time. I was listening to it heavily around three years ago, and it helped me deal with a lot of grief and has aged spiritually with me. I even used the string for “Jodi Flip” that he did later on on the Ice Spice remix. That album always shows up in a symbolic way.
Gum, you’re a strong Afrofuturist, and maybe that side of your work has become less immediately obvious in your work as time has gone on. Would you say this work expresses an Afrofuturist narrative, and if so, how does it?
gum: My personal definition of Afrofuturism is a little bit more broad than a lot of contemporary interpretations of the term, and definitely broader than the 70s and 80s conceptions of Afrofuturism before the term was coined in the 90s. Being a Black futurist - which is aside from being an Afrofuturist - entails being concerned with the proliferation of Black culture in a way that is not limited to technology but is also inclusive of everything that goes into life. In being concerned with the future of Black life, I feel like a Black futurist. I think the idea of being a futurist leans heavily on technology and technological relations, but I would personally like to expand that to labour relations and questions of solidarity across races and nations. That, to me, is the core of what being a Black futurist is.
So, with this project, on one hand I want to say yes, because we’re concerned with the current state and future of Black dance music. But on the other hand, I don’t want to pigeonhole the album into something overtly political when I don’t think it is, either. I don’t want to needlessly politicise the album just because both of its makers are deeply political people. Is there a lineage of concern and inquiry? Absolutely. Is that the core function of the album? I don’t think so.
On a similar note, because the Afrofuturist label was tossed around for this record, but did you listen to the latest Introspekt album, Moving the Centre?
gum: I did, yeah, Introspekt’s cool.
Swami: Incredible record.
What are your thoughts when hearing that one?
gum: I’ve only listened to it twice, so I don’t want to speak about the album when I have underformed opinions. I thought it was awesome, though. Me and Introspekt DJ’d together in D.C. a couple months ago. I’m glad to see my peers putting out excellent music.
Swami: I feel like State of Emergency, having tinges of dubstep, definitely follows in the footsteps that are led by Introspekt. One, as an American dance musician, but also having been part of the conversation surrounding the resurgence of UKG, but now championing this new era of dubstep in a clear and concise way. I’m very much influenced by everything that she’s doing. That’s another exchange happening. It’s an honour to be in the conversation.
That’s opened up my brain. I don’t how familiar you guys are with the history of dubstep and broken beat, but it all splintered because UK garage became so commercial, so formulaic. I feel like history is repeating itself.
gum: Many such cases. There’s a lot about the last 15 years of house and UKG that are definitely encountering the same problems, as further amplified by algorithmic culture and formulaic-ness being encouraged by certain technological relationships - i.e., TikTok. But also, facing the same kind of industry pressures such as venues and zoning laws and it being expensive to own a building, the industry being reliant on alcohol sales, but also people being too broke to go to shows, but also the shows being full of white people and nobody booking Black people… That is balanced with people trying to use nightlife for philanthropic efforts and solidarity with Palestine. The dynamics feel very similar to what people faced in early nightlife in the 70s and 80s. The same issues, but amplified in different ways. So it’s not surprising to see certain sonic discourses happening.
Swami: The commercialisation of UKG in the mid-2020s has affected me, which is the big reason why I pulled back a bit from championing it in my way. Seeing it focus itself on a specific sound and specific profile of musician, but also who it serves and who is really present for it, it definitely rubbed me the wrong way.
Let’s go into specific tracks. “Image of You”, I feel like that’s reaching into the rhythms of Benny Ill in the latter half…
Swami: The tail end of “Images of You” leans towards kind-of an Afrobeat step. The groove that I sampled - not directly, but was inspired by - was “Emotions” by Benga, and spacing it in a way that makes it kind of Carribean.
gum: It’s so wavy! [laughs]
Swami: I was in my bag. [laughs]
gum: That’s one of my favourite ones. The demo vocals that I recorded for this one, I was like, ‘please, this has to make it into a final version’. I was so excited, I hadn’t written a good song in so long. Megan [m.e.h.]’s vocals sound great on it, that all worked out the way it was supposed to.
I’m glad you said Benga, I had him written down in my notes. Also on the project, I heard dubbed-out halftime snare crashes that reminded me of Mala on “Youth Man”.
Swami: That’s my favourite joint on the album. “Youth Man” originally started out as a reggae sample, and when it was given to me, I tried really hard to achieve gum’s vision of something playful and dancehall-inspired. In my heart, I know I can’t do that [laughs]. You hear a lot of personal culture in “Youth Man”, and I could never have confidently stood behind a dancehall anything I could have done, so that’s why I ended up that way. I had to be authentically a Black American for this one. This might lean into Massive Attack, Del the Funky Homosapien or Gorillaz a little bit, but I can’t make it a dancehall track.
You both appreciate the convergence of rap and dance music, so the LIFEOFTHOM feature on “Youth Man” is sick. It feels very cross-continental, like the sort of track where someone like Flowdan or Killa P would hop on, but instead you invited an American rapper on.
“Youth Man” was the second-to-last track to get to where we needed it to be, and I think this is a big part on us creating a dialogue around the project is that it’s important for us to be Black American musicians and the involvement of LIFEOFTHOM wraps this philosophy that this is an American project, but not in a patriotic way. It pushes its own envelope, because it pulls so much from the UK stuff already, so how can we make this worthy of this conversation, not just not another trans-continental joint? Any involvement of a Carribean-British rapper would have given you what you asked for, but that’s not necessarily what we’re trying to do here. We’re trying to push our own envelopes but also make something that is homegrown and tells the language that we speak.
Black British music pulls from American production but also tells the music of Black British musicians. This is Black American music, and it’s here to stay.
Kamaal’s vocals on the two back-to-back tracks on this project fit in that The Weeknd/Brent Faiyaz pocket, and it fits so nicely.
gum: We needed him, badly. Because I can’t sing - there’s only so much I can do with autotune. What he did on “BLKHISTORY”, it adds such a presence to the album. It really helps us get the R&B feel to the songs he’s present on. It’s something I’ve wanted to have on a track for so long, so for it to happen on two great songs on a great project is a dream come true for me personally.
Swami: Both of those songs were recorded in New York with our engineer Jason. I’m really proud of Kamaal for bringing that vulnerability and willingness to shine, but also giving me freedom to course-correct. We really wanted that for gum as well, to have a really well-wrapped song, it felt like we were wrapping a gift for him. It required a lot of downtime, hanging out with Kamaal, we were taking the time to get to know each other and have poignant conversations about culture, art, the New York scene, what we think about projects. We had a long conversation about FKA twigs’ Eusexua, and it caused Kamaal to have a breakthrough to think about their own artistry. You hear that on wax, there’s a lot of heart. You can often hear whether or not it’s just a for-hire thing, but those two tracks have a lot of heart involved and connection with the music itself.
gum: Kamaal really brought a performance on the track. Something I’ve been noticing about my favourite artists, like Future, even listening back to old Clipse albums. One thing about Pusha T and Malice, is that they’re gonna put the ‘P’ in performance. Whether it be stylised delivery, adlibs, they got it. Same with Future - chains clinking on the tracks, ice in the cup, a full performance. It’s something that’s difficult to tap into when you’re bedroom-recording artists. I think psychologically, when you’re recording in your apartment, it’s difficult to give a performance, because you’re at home and you can’t get in your performance bag! That’s a skill in itself.
Who would be on your UK garage mount rushmore?
gum: Tuff Jam, Todd Edwards, TJ Cases and Artful Dodger.
Swami: Steve Gurley, MJ Cole, Gemi, and Yaw Evans. Gemi, if considering who’s formative to my progression, he was the first NUKG artist I heard. And Yaw Evans, [because] the hardware aspect of making this music is definitely something I need to see more and want to be a part of when it comes to the conversation.
That’s a good point about hardware, because I think that adds to the formulaity we find ourselves in. You’re big on buying instruments and synths, I feel like that’s what separates what you make from a lot of club producers. There’s not enough people moving past being lasered-in on the DAW and plug-ins. There’s a physicality there, a lack of screen that I think helps communicate something more true.
Swami: A lot of the production on State of Emergency was made on drum machine, analogue synthesizers. A lot of Serum, but that’s complimented by a lot of analogue synthesis.
If you were Pokemon, which would you be and why?
Swami: Kyogre.
gum: I’ll be Suicune, the dog legendary from Blue. But when you asked the question, my mind went to Yu-Gi-Oh, and if I had to alter the question, I think I’d rather be Slifer the Sky Dragon.
Swami: Yeah, and I’d be Obelisk the Tormentor. Daze [aka Dazegxd] would be the Winged Dragon of Ra!
gum, you once said that your film experience has definitely impacted the way that you approach my music and try to conceptualise your albums. Has there been any films that have been particularly inspiring?
gum: *checks Letterboxd* I’ve been big into East Asian cinema, like Taiwanese new wave stuff and Chinese Wu Xia films. I’ve been rewatching all the Mission Impossible films. Tom Cruise is the CEO of movies, come on!
Movies that have impacted me recently are Saturday Fiction, it’s a noir film by Lou Ye. Drive My Car is awesome because it’s a 3-hour Saab commercial. Even though people think their movies are boring, the beauty of Japanese cinema is that it’s really nuanced and subtle. You have to pay attention, and I’m okay with that. A long, possibly boring experience can still be emotionally riveting. I don’t think a lot of Americans are prepared to deal with that. I also saw Edward Yang’s Mahjong for the first time, I’ve been trying to find it for five years. That was big for me, I love Edward Yang’s movies in general, he’s able to illustrate relationships in a delicate and nuanced ways, even when there’s drama and tension.
I’ll offer the question to Swami, any films you’ve seen recently?
Swami: I didn’t like Sinners. This movie is a dud. I couldn’t tell you a real movie right now, but that’s one of them.
To bring it back to music, I feel like some of the songs on State of Emergency lend themselves to being scenes in a movie.
gum: I think that’s due to Swami’s sense of atmosphere. Whenever you have a strong, articulated atmosphere, I think that’s what people mean when they say a song feels like a movie. I think that’s why people say certain photos like an album cover, it comes down to composition and sense of being in the right place to connote a certain mood or geographic or socio-cultural context. Same thing for a song, where certain elements remind you of a specific psychosomatic or cinematic experience, in that they easily generate imagery.
Swami: I used to have a very vivid imagination growing up as a kid, to the point where I would jump around in my living room responding to nothing. I lost that but it turned into a musical sensibility. When I’m making music, I’m certainly not thinking of wanting to make it sound like a race or a basketball game, but that’s the best part: my ability to digitise it and turn it into a physical thing. When we worked with the cover artist, when he heard “BLKHISTORY”, he said he’s thinking of a basketball game, then I go ahead and direct a short video of gum playing basketball. Even the “Strip Game” scenario of me driving, that’s a response I actualise. I’ve turned into a fabricator of these images.