[photos by Coley Brown]
By Ric Leichtung
Prince Rama is a band that’s widely respected in the underground for their high energy performances and inimitable sound. But even after being in the band for more than five years, songwriter and keys player Taraka Larson still feels that “people […] often misunderstand us.” One respected but in this case hilariously off-base critic called them the harbingers of “the real witch house sound” on the grounds that they actually sounded like witches (rly?). Taking a look at their artwork and press photos, you’ll notice a few reoccurring motifs that would make a blog troll’s mouth water: occult imagery, clearly staged photos, and maybe my personal least favorite thing ever, glitter (editor’s tangent: have you ever hosted a glitter orgy and had to clean it up? Shit’s impossible get rid of). There are tons of lol-worthy videos that’ve inspired legions of Tumblrs dedicated to making fun of things with similar imagery. Take that strong aesthetic and add lyrics delivered in an abstract, self-created language, and then pile it even higher with a self-made, epistemological philosophy called “now age.” There’s a lot of room for ridicule here; their idiosyncrasies walk a fine line between radically insightful and completely detached from reality. But trust me when I say that this band should not be overlooked. The key to understanding Prince Rama is faith; they will not enlighten the close-minded.
AZ: Your music has a lot of Eastern elements in it– is this a conscious choice, or more an intuitive one?
Taraka: I feel like it’s more like inner landscapes. To me, music is a very visual thing, and I visualize landscapes and environments for sounds to live in, and I feel that the regions that come out through the music are places that I have internalized in some way. The Eastern music even, it’s like “Yes, I can see how that can be seen as like, Eastern music,” but for me, it was the music I grew up with.
Nimai: Growing up, our parents loved a lot of super-psychedelic stuff. We listened to a bunch of Hare Krishna music. But in Texas, we were living in such a conservative, Christian town that it wasn’t conducive to psychedelic, ’60s rock at all. And so my parents– they used to be hardcore hippies– would play that kind of stuff in the car for us and we would just think it was normal music. Eventually, we were in junior high and we decided to love Hanson, Backstreet Boys, and whatever was popular at the time.
Taraka: It’s weird looking back on it now; it was like these two extremes that I totally embrace now. It’s like extreme Eastern/spiritual/psychedelic music and extreme pop on the other end of the spectrum and neither one discounted the other. I was really into both.
Nimai: But even the pop that we were listening to still had a higher message… “MMMBop” is like a way of measuring time. In an “MMMBop,” you’re gone; in an “MMMBop,” you’re not there.
Taraka: That’s so mystical!! [snickers]
AZ: [Laughs] Pop’s always found a way like that. With 2012 around the corner, I’ve noticed how many pop songs revolve around the idea of the last chance, which sort of alludes to an apocalypse approaching. Britney Spears’ “’Til The World Ends,” Usher’s “DJ Got Us Falling In Love Again”…
Taraka: It’s always been there… I’m really into apocalypses. I looked up eleven different ends-of-the-world within the past 50 years, and the number-one hit songs that corresponded with each of those– they’re strangely connected. This was almost too good to be true: the number-one hit for this last one, May 21st, 2011 [the date of Harold Camping’s predicted Judgement Day], was ”Til The World Ends.” And some have these weird survival messages; on Y2K, the number-one was Faith Hill’s “Just Breathe.” Pop is a dispenser of mass consciousness.