Rex Orange County
Rex Orange County
C’est quoi, du rock ? du rap ? de la pop ? Comme avec King Krule, Declan McKenna ou Cosmo Pyke, on ne sait pas trop. Et ce n’est pas parce qu’il pose sa voix sur une chanson du dernier Tyler, The Creator que Rex Orange County choisit son camp pour autant. Sa musique, plutôt que de se définir en fonction des genres, choisit plutôt un camp ayant montré son potentiel de créativité ces dernières décennies : l’adolescence, les sentiments qui vont avec, les premiers amours, la découverte de la mélancolie, ce genre de choses universelles. Il n’en faut pas forcément plus pour faire une bonne chanson. @Gaité Lyrique
Aged 18, he grew up on the outskirts of London in Haslemere, Surrey. Today his hometown acts as a retreat for when life in the capital gets too overwhelming. But while growing up, he wasn’t exactly surrounded by cultural hotspots. “Thank god for the Internet,” he sums up. As he grew older, music gradually took over his life. He always knew he’d shun the academic route (“the moment education becomes optional, I’m gonna take that different path”) and he only liked the teachers “who allowed me to be myself.” Being in a picturesque but culturally void town didn’t stop him from admiring fellow do-it-yourself producers Thundercat and Toro Y Moi, or falling in love with Frank Ocean’s ‘Channel ORANGE’. “If I could do anything close to that musically, then that’s it,” he beams.
It hasn’t taken long for Rex to find like-minded spirits. Through uploading ‘bcos u will never b free’ came connections to producers like Two Inch Punch and BadBadNotGood who got in touch after stumbling across Rex’s Bandcamp page. And none so perfect a collaborator came to the table than Tyler, the Creator who sent “the most illiterate email” to help reach out. “I couldn’t tell if it was definitely him. Was someone fucking with me? I was just not convinced.” After giving all his work to the internet it seemed to be returning the favour.
Pendulum-swinging between loved-up verses and rap refrains, Rex’s music refuses to be pigeonholed. “You don’t have to be perfectionist about stuff,” he claims. “Nothing has to be perfect. Why take it so seriously when anyone in the fucking world can make music? Make it obvious you did it.” If there’s one thing that defines his early material, it’s a personal stamp O’Connor applies at every opportunity. This is his personality epitomised, spilled out in multicolour.