Who knows? Maybe she goes on crime fighting sprees at night. Being a musical producer entails a bit more than just working with sound, as is having a some degree of social media presence, building a public persona for yourself and stitching visuals to the audio. Leikeli47 is an artist who knows how to exploit these languages in the periphery of music.
The prima facie impression we get from her is that we can’t really see her face. She ‘hides’ behind masks and balaclavas, framing the most public part of her public persona a different treatment than most. Now, she has never admitted to being a deconstructionist but the gesture suggests “Don’t just stare at me, hear me out!”. She encourages us to adopt her fashion statement, in hopes that we’ll be able to really see each other. Says, for her, the mask is her face. Her voice is her face.
Rebelling against what everyone does and de-emphasizing what we never fail to put forth is a constant in her work, running out of the close-up shot to chill in the background and explore horizons. Her leitmotif appears to be an enthralling, fuzzy mix of spontaneity and enthusiasm, and if we look at her bio, these come from a place which could be characterized by the opposite. Coming from a humble background, Leikeli47 is an independent producer and she’s managed to build an important part of her sound by circumventing the lack of certain musical resources: using samples and found audio bits as instruments, or crafting sounds from unusual sources – for example, emulating the bouncy 808 kick by tapping on a microphone pop filter. She describes herself as a shy, not very social person with a bit of the weirdness. From that fragile and elusive little frame of a person comes forth a sound as gutsy as Arular or maybe Decent Work for Decent Pay.
Coincidentally, she happens to be a big fan of Diplo (and it goes both ways). In her first works, like Miss America we’ll find a great affinity with the latter’s production style: A totally saturated synth is joined by a drum machine – maybe its emulation – to chant out a beat that boasts ghetto edge. Continuing her deconstructionist stance, the chorus goes “I dress like a boy, walk like a girl”.
In the rest of her work we’ll keep seeing this penchant for bouncy and distorted kick drums. Sometimes she’ll lay off snares for clacking fingers. We’ll also find huge choruses, ditching every possible genre conventionality as in Girl Gang and unexpected twists in tone, as the sudden drop to Soul in Two Times a Charm.
Leikeli47 doesn’t worry much about being very sonically distinct and sophisticated. For her, music is the wrapping paper for a conversation and rhythm. Instead of thinking of nebulous musical ideals, she sells to the moment, calling us to part-ay.It’s this nonchalant, brave and quipster demeanor what has earned the producer a little room in our hearts.