Ander Other at his instrument [photo by Zoe Prinds-Flash]
The last decade or so has brought the music world a lot of things it didn’t have before, but for Ander Other the most notable thing the new millennium brought was probably the ability for a teenager to, as he puts it, “bug the shit out of” his favorite musicians on the internet. In the mid-00s this is how a 17-year-old tech whiz from California caught the attention of Doomtree’s P.O.S., Sims, and Mike Mictlan. Cyber-persistence pretty much forced the emcees to know who Ander was by the time they got to his fair golden state and because his aim seemed honest and true, “the friendships started building from there and they sort of slowly realized how into it I was,” he describes, and before you knew it, the guy packed his bags for Minnesota. Since then he has become the group’s official “Intern/Merchant/Graphic Designer/Webmaster/Video Editor/Social Media Agent/Librarian,” as he points out his email signature reads. As if that weren’t enough, he adds completely seriously, “I hope more is expected of me though.”
But even though he only became a Twin Cities resident circa 2009, it seems like the setting has been in his bones for a while. “One of my older sisters Alexis was a huge Prince fan and I remember my mom mentioning it when I started actively listening to music around like 6 or 8,” he recalls, and he transitions without skipping a beat from talking about this to remembering even more fondly the first time he heard tracks from Rhymesayers collective members such as Musab and Eyedea via, you guessed it, the internet. So it was merely a matter of time until Ander saw Stefon Alexander aka P.O.S. open for Blueprint and Atmosphere in 2005. “I saw them in LA and that was the first real rap show I’d seen that wasn’t a corporate radio production with a bunch of acts that obviously hadn’t performed well…or often,” he talks up the singular and impressionable experience. From there he immediately became a Doomtree fan for life. “The music caught my ear because it was the most honest music,” he thinks back. “There was less posturing, less obligation to attempt to imitate people or fit in with what people were doing.” He points out that being an adolescent and hearing this kind of candid and individualistic lyricism was basically something he had yet to find in music, and any music obsessive can agree that when you find something that engaging and relatable, it’s hard to let it pass you by like just another song on the playlist.
“There weren’t as many songs commenting on rap life as there were rap songs about actual life and living,” he sums up the Doomtree ethic in one cathartic response. It should be no surprise then that when Ander saw the opportunity to transform into a full-time Minneapolitan and Doomtree institution. He was so sure of this new chapter in his life that as he reflects on his duties for the group, he reflects: “I feel like a résumé would be paralyzing so I never made one after I quit my last job.” He has instead decided to put approximately 1500% of himself into being Doomtree’s eyes, ears, and several other involuntary functions. “I aim to do a lot without prompt and think of tight shit I’d be into as a fan – because I am very much still a fan – or things that need fixing or taking care of or re-doing.” And while it seems like everything that he’s doing is more reflexive than anything else, he makes sure to set his goal clearly and in favor of the men and woman behind the Doomtree name. “My goal right now is to make sure they don’t get overwhelmed with business stuff because I just want them to be comfortable paying for life through making music,” he says without a hint of lip service, proving himself to be the ultimate player without an instrument (besides his computer).
![Ander [photo by Ben LaFond]](http://www.mpls.tv/wp-content/uploads/2011/12/ander-200x300.jpg "Ander [photo by Ben LaFond]")
And while he might be typing away more than Cecil Otter is spitting into a mic or Paper Tiger buzzing bass lines through the First Avenue mainroom speakers, that doesn’t mean the man has a quieter voice. “They don’t confine themselves as artists to what’s happening locally, or within hip hop, “indie” or otherwise,” he replies without hesitation when I attempt some bullshit categorization query about Doomtree’s place in the zeitgeist of music. As evidence that this isn’t just him talking for the group, he proudly quotes Dessa’s take on how Doomtree basically sits outside of the spectrum of beats and rhymes: “”I hold a lot of grudges against hip-hop, and Doomtree didn’t indulge in any of those. Their aesthetic and emotional overtone is exactly the kind of hip-hop I was looking for, which is that they are angry, but they’re angry in a constructive way. They’re not hateful. They’re angry for change. And I remember thinking, ‘I want to be part of something like that.’” And if that’s not bold enough of statement, Ander has his own incendiary way of defending Doomtree’s mission, which he says he has taken to become his own. He concludes, “I have zero fucks to give about the microcosm of the music industry and somehow preserving that order.” Instead, he affirms, “I want this music to help make another, hopefully better, world for everybody.”
So how does being a web guru help Ander move toward making that mission a reality for more and more people? I ask him to look at social media as an example (I’ve heard it’s the rage these days, you see). He reacts fiercely and yet pragmatically with, “There are global pop superstars with a million followers that don’t tweet as often as members of Doomtree do, but fortunately Doomtree does not waste your attention with shit that isn’t real.” He breaks it down more for all the musicians wondering how much this internet ephemera really helps a band’s exposure by stating, “If you don’t use Twitter or Facebook in your day to day as an actual component for your life, as a person, I don’t expect you to get down with those websites believing they’ll help you make good music or play better shows for people to go to.” As the engineer for Doomtree’s promotions, he manages to both think everything out to a T and make as natural and straightforward as possible. “Most of the updates are regarding things that are happening soon or pro-tips for things or troubleshooting and answering questions and helping people out if they’re looking for something, creating a dialog when somebody says something funny or smart, or ‘Hey, check out this one song’ – usually because I’m listening to it and am like ‘Hell yeah, somebody’s gotta hear this right now, too.’” Whodathunk; actually engaging with the fans but not in any kind of fake or just schlocky advertisement-oriented way seems to be the way to be true and social online as an artist.
Of course there’s so much more to Ander’s persona and life behind the Doomtree collective, regardless of how much it already pops out of your screen from these quotes and knowledge drops. With the blowout shows going down this week on the corner of 7th and 1st, he’s been keeping himself busier than busy, and not just on the sidelines. He recaps the events thus far: “Sunday was an honor to play in Astronautalis’ band and DJ for heads; get nods of approval from some of the DJs I look up to [like] Paper [Tiger] and the Get Cryphy dudes.” He’s very clearly glowing and I’m only reading these words via email. Then he rattles off the fun stuff he gets to witness that he’s helped coordinate, like comedian/Saturday Night Live writer Hannibal Buress, local powerhouse Marijuana Deathsquads, Plain Ole Bill, Polica, and more. But what he seems most psyched about is that this whole week is coinciding with the group’s sophomore studio album, No Kings. “I’ve been to every Blowout since the third in 2007 and they’ve all been special to me, but I think the record release aspect of this week is something I’ve been waiting for,” he realizes. He wraps things up by talking about how people will be singing along to old stuff and new stuff, how he hopes the extravagance and excitement of all catches on in the crowd like wildfire. And if you’re going, you might be going crazy from all the energy exploding around you, and part of it’s coming straight from Ander like a comet. “I’ma be at the merch table going fucking crazier,” he reminds.
Players Without Instruments is a profile of local figures who, in addition to their musical ability (or lack thereof), work some of the more thankless yet equally vital jobs around town to help keep the Twin Cities music scene thriving.
