+ (614) LOVECHILD OF EXCELLENCE WITH STEVAN

Issue 02Music

4 Nov

Written By Francesca Nwokeocha

TALENT Stevan

PHOTOGRAPHY Yasmin Suteja

STYLIST Marisa Suen

ART DIRECTION Francesca Nwokeocha

ART DIRECTION ASSISTANT Indira Chamakuri

WORDS Rhea Thomas

DESIGNER Francesca Nwokeocha

PALOMA WOOL Top, SUNNEI jeans, KIKO KOSTADINOV X ASICS shoes

The idea of being young and a successful artist holds a lot of weight these days. The mere feat of finding time to produce music amid the waves of school, friendships and personal revelations feels more like the insane product of hustle culture than anything else. But, for artist Stevan, music presented an earnest opportunity to unravel and process the emotions and changes related to growing up; a necessary ritual and effort that cannot be missed.

VNITAGE COMME DES GARCONS HOMME PLUS courtesy of Vertigo Salvage jumper, KIKO KOSTADINOV X ASICS shoes, Stylist’s own pants

When it comes to discussing the talents of young artists – not only musicians but multi-instrumentalists and producers – it is ignorant not to talk about the context of the Internet, social media and production software. Practising, recording and producing all of his music in his bedroom, Stevan’s DIY approach is a common one in the indie scene: “I remember with the first few songs that I put up on SoundCloud, I recorded everything with Apple earphones and the little microphone...super, super dodgy.” Though in listening to Stevan’s earlier demos and debut mixtape Just Kids, the production method takes a backseat and rather refocuses on a foreground of lush harmony and dizzying synthesisers.

Stevan grew up in the coastal city of Wollongong, a few hours south of Sydney. “It’s still a bit of a weird place – you say it to well-known people and they’re like ‘Who?’” Stevan laughed. When talking to him, I was reminded of a more familiar narrative of growing up a bit outside of the city – one where jobs within the creative industry are hard to pursue and harder to encourage. “10 years ago...as far as I knew, I thought I was just gonna grow up and do what my dad does...go into a trade or become a mechanic.”

In preparation for our meeting in early September, I spent an hour or two trawling through the depths of Stevan’s Twitter (@stevanjpeg) and Instagram; a pocket of his interaction with friends and fans alike. He laughed when I brought it up: “I used to be kind of crazy with social media when I was a little bit younger than now. I’m still pretty active, but it’s nowhere near the insanity that was when I was younger.”

One particular tweet from 2017 sums up Stevan’s direction and sound quite concisely: a project to create a “lovechild of excellence,” drawing from a multitude of notable hip-hop and RnB artists including Steve Lacy, Frank Ocean and Tyler the Creator, to name a few. Stevan’s music oozes an undeniable sense of youthfulness that comes from a certain looseness and willingness to have a good time. The 2019 single, Timee can easily be seen as a career-defining moment and notably one of the many examples of Stevan’s developed indie sound and intimate writing style; a track defined by its hallucinatory vocals and stripped back beat.

When Stevan started releasing demos on Soundcloud, he adopted a necessary savviness – sliding into the DMs of artists he admired and vice versa. But for anyone watching from the outside, Stevan’s social presence played a crucial part in how he has grown and networked across cities and even countries. Two mixtapes deep, he has gone on to tour with international artists including Omar Apollo and collaborated with local artists including Cosmo’s Midnight, LUCIANBLOMKAMP, Winston Surfshirt and Taka Perry.

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MANKIND STUDIOS Hat, MARSHALL COLUMBIA jumper, MARQUES ALMEIDA jeans, KIKO KOSTADINOV X ASICS shoes

614. How did you go about producing music when you were younger and still in school?

[laughs] It’s not a cheap thing to do, but I was so DIY. When I first started making beats, we used to go to this high school where they had school computers that had GarageBand on them and that’s where I learned how to do a lot. Even the way that I got my first proper recording software – Logic Pro – I got that from a friend at school. He was just like, “Hey Stevan, are you doing beats? You know, you’re using this really bad version of GarageBand... do you want this?” So I found a way to make it work. I try not to make too many excuses. A lot of the songs I made – even Timee – were made in such a dodgy way. I didn’t have a keyboard so I played everything on the computer keys. It was super, super low key.

614. What was it like for your family when you first started producing music?

My parents have a love-hate relationship with it. I mean, my sisters always loved it. But I come from an ethnic household. And you know, parents want you to find occupations that are streamlined and reliable, possibly get into fields of work that, because of circumstances, they couldn’t. But now I think my parents love the fact that I’m creative and they think I’m very talented and smart. But you know, there’s that part of them that also wants me to be a doctor or something. They see me doing my music thing, and they’re like, you know, you’re talented, you’re smart, but like, you could apply that same energy to like, a degree [laughs].

614. Your music touches on themes of growing up, meeting people and handling insecurity. What moments in your life have you drawn on in your writing?

I kind of draw on moments in my life that contrast very strongly. For instance, Just Kids is talking about growing up and going through high school. Every single day you’d hang out with your friends at the same spots, and you think that’s gonna be life forever. I was inspired because I knew that that time was coming to an end and then we’re going to start working, moving and living in different states. And that’s a huge contrast to what life was like before...an experience I think everyone can relate to. When it comes to talking about insecurities – I just do it... and just try to get over it. I’m inspired by the fact that I feel a certain way and I’m like, “How do I work this out? How do I move past this feeling to be a more complete person?”.

I write songs and it allows me to have a body of work or a piece of art that I can listen to and be like, “I felt like this. This is why I felt like this. I can move on.” It’s like a closure type thing. I feel like it came at a perfect time... I probably would have been in a whole different place if I couldn’t find that way. Music was my way of expressing myself and telling the world “Hey, I’m here.” I didn’t have to think about it – this was my time, this was my space.

PALOMA WOOL Top, HEAVEN Vest, SUNNEI jeans

[left] MANKIND STUDIOS Hat, MARSHALL COLUMBIA jumper, MARQUES ALMEIDA jeans, KIKO KOSTADINOV X ASICS shoes | [right] PALOMA WOOL Top, HEAVEN Vest, SUNNEI jeans, KIKO KOSTADINOV X ASICS shoes

614. What did your friends think about your music?

Yo, I’m gonna be real – people shat on me so hard. There was a lot of shit-talking – not in a bad way but in a good way. I think people were just honest because it wasn’t good when I first started. I’ve never really had a problem with criticism because I never made music for other people. It was always for me. If I liked it, it didn’t matter. I’d love hearing what other people thought of it though because it’s another opinion. And my friends are so supportive, and they love what I do, and they love me. I remember my first ever show, they pulled up and they screamed and yelled the hardest – they went hard for me. And then afterwards, they came up to me with a list of stuff – they’re like, “Look, Steve, we love the show, but man, you can have like a little more energy here, you can interact with the crowd” – and that helped me – it keeps me level-headed and humble.

614. How did you move past the imposter syndrome of being a young person in music and realise that this could be a full-time gig?

I think it hit me a few months after Timee. When Timee first came out, it felt like a fluke – I had a bit of imposter syndrome. The whole time after I made that song, I was like “This is weird, I don’t know why people are liking this,” because it’s always been personal for me. But I started releasing more music, and people received that well, then the consistency was there. It wasn’t like, “Oh, he did it once”-type thing. I was like, “Yeah, I’m cool. I’m tight. I know what I’m doing.”

With music or anything in the creative arts, it’s hard to separate yourself from what you do or what you create because you’re so involved and part of you wants to take it personally. But art is subjective. It’s all based on perspective and culture. If someone doesn’t share your lived experience, they’re probably not going to be able to resonate with something that you create. The way that I got over the imposter syndrome was just realising that, “Bruh, everybody has an opinion. It doesn’t matter.” That’s the only way you can really cope in this sort of industry because you’ve got to keep moving forward, and the bigger you are, the more voices and opinions start to pop up. Eventually, you can’t care.

614. Do you think being on social media has helped you expand your network?

Yeah, yo, that’s so true. It did get me opportunities. On SoundCloud, I used to just message everybody, and a lot of the people hit me back. I feel that as an artist you’ve got to put yourself in a position to meet more people. Especially living in Australia, you can be limited to your access to bigger artists. It’s cool to have social media because it bridges the gap. So many people that I’ve worked with and who’ve built my stardom... I’ve contributed to stuff that they’ve done solely based on me being crazy with the antics on social media. The coolest example of this was Omar Apollo, before he was famous or had the clout he does now. He was just making demos, and then he sent me this message – “Send me your number”– and I was like a kid. All these dudes were around my age now. So at 15-16, I was like, “What the hell’s an Omar Apollo?”

[left] MANKIND STUDIOS Hat, MARSHALL COLUMBIA jumper, MARQUES ALMEIDA jeans, KIKO KOSTADINOV X ASICS shoes | [right] VNITAGE COMME DES GARCONS HOMME PLUS courtesy of Vertigo Salvage jumper, KIKO KOSTADINOV X ASICS shoes, Stylist’s own pants

“I let my personality come out and let people connect with that.”

— Stevan

614. How has time being in solitude been for you?

It’s been such a big learning experience. Lockdown’s given me perspective and allowed me to realise, “Okay, what am I about, what effect do I want to have in personal relationships?” And just trying to develop this sense of comfort from yourself. That’s a hard thing because I’m a very social person. But now, I can comfort myself and my support is the only support I need. It’s been hard, but actually getting to this place now is really relieving and liberating. I’m still kind of crazy with the music. I make a lot. For me, it’s almost like I don’t know what to do. People like eating food...I treat music in a similar way. [laughs] You don’t miss a meal, right? I think lockdown has improved making music...and the part of me that wants to become the best producer, songwriter, artist I can be...you can’t take this stuff for granted. When you’re living a normal life, you want to avoid doing any real work to better yourself. I’ve been avoiding doing these things that I need to do to get where I want to be. So I’ve been doubling down and I’ve gotten so much better at production and better at writing songs.

614. How has collaborating been changing your approach to making music?

I think the tough thing about it was letting go of this idea that I have to do it all by myself. And then once I let go of that, I learnt to experience it in a holistic way. Being able to collaborate, throw ideas back-and-forth and just having the comfort of sharing that creative process with somebody else is really cool. I think it’s just inspired me and made me better. Even on the tour with Omar, I learnt so much about performing and being more present. When he’s on stage, he has this gravity to him; it feels like you’re watching a real artist. I’ve seen a million shows, but I hadn’t seen that before. And now it’s like, every time I go on stage, I let my personality come out and let people connect with that, which was something I used to be afraid of doing. I would have never learnt to overcome that without seeing him do his thing.

614. Having grown up in Wollongong, where do you see yourself in the next ten years?

10 years down the line...I want to do some stuff for Wollongong for sure. What’s happening is as I’m growing as an artist, friends and family who also are passionate about similar things are building their own names and they’re all based in Wollongong. And the thing is, we’re literally family. I’ve known these people since I was a kid; we went to similar high schools. My plan is for us to connect and to do something for Wollongong and have Sydney artists come down and everything. I just want Wollongong to have a scene because right now, I know what we’re known for...and it’s way bigger than that. There are so many dope acts coming out of Wollongong – like BoomChild – who are all doing some sick shit. We’re not just surf-rock anymore and it’s going to be exciting to see what happens.

614. Do you feel like growing up in Wollongong has shaped your output and musical identity?

Yeah, definitely. I used to make music before in Wollongong and didn’t really understand how it was different or unique, but then when I was starting to collaborate with artists who are from Sydney, I realised that a lot of the stuff that I did, or I had a taste for was based off of the place I grew up. When I was younger, I thought I had to be associated with all these people in order to have some type of clout – the whole ‘you have to be in the city to make it’ thing. There was the cool RnB-soul movement happening in the Newtown area, or the cool hip-hop thing happening in Western Sydney. And growing up, there used to be a big insecurity ‘cause I’m this Black kid from Wollongong and a lot of my cultural references aren’t these people’s cultural references. But what’s dope is dope. My biggest fans are people who I never thought would fuck with what I do. This is how we’re bridging that gap.