DJ Haram Makes Her Voice (And Her Message) Heard

DJ Haram is not one to shy away from difficult topics. A self-described "multi-disciplinary propagandist," the New Jersey-raised and Brooklyn-based artist projects her messages against authoritarianism, genocide, and injustice via platforms both virtual and material, be that on social media or in the club.

"At this point in time, the politicized aspects of my work is the only important one," she says. "Otherwise, it's just a job."

For Beside Myself, her multifaceted solo full-length debut as a producer that encompasses everything from abstracted hip-hop and Jersey club to electro-acoustic sound design and pummeling power electronics, Haram explored yet another medium for broadcasting her activist point of view: her own recorded voice. "There's a certain level of skill I've been able to get to that now creating can be really fun and can be really free," she says of this aspect of her songcraft. "The more fluent you become, the more you can express and do less than you've memorized."

Released on London's esteemed electronic imprint Hyperdub, the album also features rapper guests such as Armand Hammer and BBymutha alongside the avant-garde likes of composer Abdul Hakim Bilal, improvisational trumpeter Aquiles Navarro, and, as should be expected, her 700 Bliss cohort Moor Mother. With a creative community like that supporting her work, she can continue to operate with the courage of her convictions, even when faced with industry pressures or the temptations of escapism.

"A lot of people make music that's very like, this is an outlet to make you feel better because shit's so crazy right now," she says. "Who needs that? There's already plenty of that! Who cares?"

CABBAGES: As a DJ/producer, what brought you to this point where you wanted your own words and voice to be a key part of how you represented yourself and your art on Beside Myself?

DJ Haram: Here's what I've told people before. I've told them I started doing vocals because Moor Mother asked me to. Something I can really appreciate about her creative flow is that she can be kind of a utilitarian about it. I go out of my way to call myself a propagandist and do all this engaging of intentional media manipulation with a stated purpose and role in society, and I can be kind of flowery about it. She can be like, no, just do the work–period–about it. And that's how she was about doing vocals. So that really sold it for me. I love that analysis and perspective, and she said she wanted me to do it to support her. She was like, don't make me do all this work of doing all the vocals and writing. Come on, put yourself into it.

But actually the truth is, when I first started DJing and making music back in the day, I put my voice on tracks. Because as I was starting to DJ, I was also engaging and doing improv sound stuff. I really didn't know how to do music; I was playing around with people's instruments and been to a lot of shows where people did improv and noise. So I was just messing around and, ultimately, went more towards DJing at that time. I felt like I needed to study more and familiarize myself with what I may even want to do with my music. So I had always had an idea and had attempted since then to try to put my voice in music just as another instrument, another layer.

That's not to say that it was just fate. There is an intention where I've just been in the music industry in some capacity for over 10 years now, closer to 13, 14. I have just learned that the best way to get a message across is to say it. I feel like people decide what they want to do and then make the ideology of why that's a good strategy around it, sometimes, because they don't want to use their voice. They don't want to sit down and try to think of the words. They don't want the responsibility of saying something that's edgy or subversive or embarrassing. No, actually, the best way to fucking reach people is to talk to them. I said these words. You cannot get this twisted. I said, fuck these allies.

You've obviously worked with a lot of rappers, singers, spoken word artists–and that continues on this project. What is it like to have your own voice share space with so many of these on your own project?

It feels like higher stakes. When you're around rappers, they are better than all the other artists because they're generally more funny. Of course, you'll come across somebody like me who's a producer and DJ and I have jokes. But rappers, they need a skillset of humor. They're always making fun of how certain people will try to rap when they're actually just a producer. I've heard people be clowned so many times for using their vocals, so I'd be nervous.

But it feels really good. I love working with Camae–Moor Mother. I think that our voices just sound cool together. She answers to nobody and addresses everybody. She's just so dope, and she is more experimental and expansive as far as format. So it's much more approachable to make music with her than say, put my voice on a track with Armand Hammer. Furthermore, I would say that my song "Remaining" with Dakn is probably one of my favorite songs I've ever made. I'm very flattered that, when he was trying to pick a song to play, I showed him that one. And he said he was inspired by the spoken word vibe, which is why he did a spoken word vibe too. And that was really cool.

It's especially notable, seeing that you're working alongside high-caliber writers like billy woods and ELUCID. You've produced for their projects as well. What is it that keeps you creating with them? What do you enjoy about that dynamic?

It's more rare than one would realize to find collaborators at similar intersections as me, including all of the dimensions: space, time, money, need and focus of work. I moved back to New York in 2020 and I met them–I met ELUCID a while ago–but I started hanging out with them more in 2022. And it's been like I'm in community with a lot of people from Backwoodz. It's more than just, they're cool. They're cool, and I like making music with them, but they're a big part of my connection to a lot of the hip-hop scene that I'm now part of in New York, which before it was just much more DJ and electronic and this kind of global thing for me.

Community obviously is clearly very important in terms of the way that you create and the people who you surround yourself with. And as strong as your vocal collaborators here are, I'm also very curious about some of the other producers and instrumentalists you linked with for the album. August Fanon's name immediately stands out for me as a rap critic. So how does a song like "Fishnets" come together for your as a composer and producer?

I think it was before we ever met in person. Fanon makes a lot of music and just sends it out to folks all the time. I just asked him if he wanted to collab on something and sent options. There's the intro part of the track ["Fishnets"] with BBmutha before she really hops into her verse. So basically I had an entire demo that was like that, with the dissonant drums and the violin. He just took that and made the second half; the Legendary Lady J sample and the drums are him.

He sent me that back and then I was like, I actually want to include some of my weird, in-my-Blue-Note-Jazz-bag drums over here. So it would keep it more me. I love what he did, and still I think it actually stands more powerfully with the intro. But I'm just a sound design girl and I always want more than a loop. So I ultimately did the final arrangement. As far as production-wise, it's pretty 50/50 there. SHA RAY rapped on it first, and then I sent a couple options to BBymutha. She was like, this girl is hard. I want to do that one. So everybody kind of just went with their heart on that one.

Another one I want to call out on here is "Do U Love Me" with Kay Drizz. What was it like merging their Jersey DJ/producer sensibilities with your own?

I mean, that was not much of a back and forth. I actually gave her almost nothing. I gave her some synths and some drums. I did include hand drums in the end, but I started off with just some bare vibes. I was kind of going for a trance reference with the SAWs. I was inspired by her. She's a bit of a muse of the track, because she has some of those cuts that feel very quintessentially Jersey to me, where it's a combination of club. But it's also that trance, euro, euphoria stuff that we loved too in New Jersey. She built out the whole track. I had to make a little bit more room for myself in it after that.

I'd be remiss if I didn't ask about your placement on Philly rapper Ghais Guevara's recent album Goyard Ibn Said. "Bystander Effect" is such a fantastic track. How did that one manifest?

He came to my studio. He was dripped down in clothes he got off his record deal. And he made sure to let me know. I was like, just come so I can see what your vibe is. I knew he was a younger cat from Philly, but he was on some Marxist shit. So I was like, let's actually go there. We were talking and the prompt for this one was representing anxiety, in a certain amount. That's something he wanted to do, which was cool. It's one of the tracks on the B-side, his sincere effort. I was happy to do that, and that's kind of my thing. I feel like I make music that sounds pretty stressed. Anxiety is part of it, so it's like, I got you. No problem.

Three new tracks to snack on...

FOHDH Matthew x Wino Willy, "Matthew's Highway Motor Is Not Turning Over"

Eddie Valero, "Clark Kent"

pulp Cruz, "active"