Max Frost

t began as an experiment.

Music had always been the focus of my short, 17­year­old, guitar­playing life in Austin, Texas. I was obsessed with The Beatles, Hendrix, Sinatra, and Sam Cooke. The Blues were my foundation. I hung with a crowd of young musicians who shared my love of the classics. We listened to vinyl. We played in bands.

My safe, little vintage­rock world was turned on its head when underground hip­hop came knocking at my door. Rappers wanted me to sing hooks on their songs. I never in a million years thought what I did made sense in hip­hop. Eminem and Outkast had blown my mind as a kid, but it was still an alien world to me.

As uncomfortable as it was, I jumped in. At first, my bluesy singing made the hooks come across as a sort of “blue-eyed soul” thing. I didn’t identify with that. The hooks I loved most had been sampled from old records. They contrasted the beat in a cool way. They felt distorted and fuzzy and their juxtaposition with modern music had an accidental magic.