FROM FEBRUARY/MARCH 2021 ISSUE OF WEST END PHOENIX

The West End rapper spent the lockdown on a wild musical ride, digging through virtual crates, fuelling inspiration and building community from home

The pandemic may have taken away our ability to gather in clubs that bring people from different walks together. But these days, Myst Milano, who lives by the motto “no genre, no gender, no rules,” is still finding ways to connect with their community through music.

Describing their sound as “fun, but also dark,” the rapper, producer and DJ, RUDE Collective co-founder and community activist is funnelling their diverse musical range into their forthcoming album, Sweet Systers, out on Halocline Trance in late spring.

“It’s about metamorphosis and transformation, change and adaptation, and the birth-death cycle we all go through. Every song is a different genre. I wanted to showcase my flexibility as a producer, as a rapper and as a singer, and showcase my different influences as well,” they say.

While some of Milano’s influences on the album are recognizable – Goldie, BbyMutha, Black Flag, Azealia Banks, MF DOOM, Animal Collective – they have also made discovering new music a regular part of their pandemic routine.

“Most of my teenage life was spent on the internet with long-distance friends, trading and sharing music and being pen pals. I spent a lot of time on forums finding music. Since I can’t go to the record store and crate dig now, I’m doing a virtual crate dig where I just get lost in a Bandcamp hole or a Soundcloud hole and go from artist to artist and look at their influences or artists similar to them,” they say. “It forces you to listen to things that you might not listen to.”

One recent find: Janko Nilović, a 79-year-old Turkish pianist and composer who makes “this really amazing, relaxing, kind of loungey music,” Milano says. (This isn’t the first time he’s inspired a rapper: Jay Z’s “D.O.A. (Death of Auto-Tune)” sampled Nilović’s 1968 jazz-funk song “In the Space.”)

“I think it’s easy to let an algorithm pick out the music you like, but it’s also super worth it to follow your instinct when looking for music, too.”

If you have ever discovered something or someone the rest of the world has yet to catch up with, you understand the ecstatic feeling Milano’s describing. And for queer artists, Milano included, the recent passing of electronic music trailblazer Sophie was a reminder of that.

“Oh God – I remember arguing with my friend in 2011 over who’s going to rap over ‘Hard.’ I remember the first time I heard ‘Dip.’ It was like the first time I heard Odd Future, like, ‘Oh, this is the future of music, and this is going to be very important.’ It’s that feeling of being so willing to ride on someone’s wave with them and trusting an artist to take you to a place that you wouldn’t have arrived at without them,” they say. “Pop music is so important to the queer world, and she created this place where pop music became punk, then it became subversive, then gritty, and it’s something that only she could do.”

With an album on the way and the vision of a post-pandemic world getting closer, Milano is excited about the future, but also aware of the work that still needs to be done – and that it needs to be a community effort that goes beyond just listening to new artists.

The lives of many have been turned upside down, they note, from small businesses to creatives to sex workers. Milano suggests donating to Maggie’s Toronto Sex Workers Action Project and Exposure Toronto, a Black-owned studio run by Vonny Lorde that works to support Black creatives. And, of course, to always remember that “white supremacy isn’t just people in white hoods. It’s not just a cross burning on the lawn. It’s also the things you choose to say or not say in life.”