Thundercat talks about Sam Rivers, Limp Bizkit and the bass lines that shook a generation

After the death of Sam Riversfounding bassist of Limp Bizkiton October 18th at the age of 48, Thundercat says talking about it in an interview seems “necessary.” rivers was just 19 years old when the band’s debut album, Three Dollar Bill, Y’allwas released in 1997, and was with the group during their most memorable — and controversial — moments, including the enormous success of their following albums, Significant Other and Chocolate Starfish and the Hot Dog Flavored Water.

Considering the three albums, Thundercat says there are no disposable bands. “Every one of them he played on — every song he played on — those songs, to me, were special,” says the bassist, born Stephen Bruner. The work itself Thundercat spans hip hop, R&B, electronic, jazz and more. After starting as a musician in Suicidal Tendencieshe went on to collaborate with names such as Kendrick Lamar, Flying Lotus, Erykah Badu and others. But before It Is What It Is, Thundercat says he was just a teenager in high school, hearing for the first time the thundering bass line of rivers in “Nookie”.

“Limp Bizkit it was revolutionary, and I didn’t need proof of that,” he tells Rolling Stone. “You saw it in people’s reactions, and Sam He was one of the mechanics from our childhood.”

Speaking on the phone with Rolling Stone, Thundercat reflect on how rivers and the fearless approach of Limp Bizkit by crossing genres he shaped his own sound, on the impressive ability to rivers of extracting the most intense emotions from his guitar playing, and about how the band’s work inspired a generation to exist on their own terms.

When you said this interview seemed necessary, what exactly were you thinking?
“The work [de Rivers] Limp Bizkit is something that has defined generations, and for me personally, I’m a kid who grew up listening to Limp Bizkit. I loved the first album. I loved the second one. Between him and [o baterista da banda] John Otto, it was a feeling to be sought after as a musician. His music also defined my early growth as a musician — from ‘Re-Arranged’ to ‘My Generation’.”

How would you define this ‘feeling’ you were looking for?
I think the line between pop music and rock — rock when I was growing up here in Los Angeles, especially — didn’t have a lot of live music representation that was accepted in pop culture, other than rock itself. There were moments, of course, but being able to hear live music as I grew as an instrumentalist, those moments stuck with me. And it was always rock. Bands we all loved — Rage Against the Machine, Korn, Slipknot — defined musicianship and skill for us from an early age. Even Linkin Park, Blink-182. That was the era we grew up in. [Pessoas como] Sam showed us examples of how to play.

Limp Bizkit was an innovative group. [Eles tinham] your own sound, your own identity. When it came to rapping, singing, screaming — doing all that — no one else was doing it. No matter what anyone says, Limp Bizkit was amazing. Within the ups and downs of pop culture, where you try to fit everything into a box — they were outside the box for everyone.

It’s true that they helped popularize the “nu metal” era. But after what you said, I even hesitate to use that term.
There it is. This is the box.

Even ‘pop-rock’ sounds weird.
It’s strange that it exists this way, but it happens. It’s a sign of success, to be honest. It’s the bittersweet reality that comes with pop culture, music and the commercialization of it. But like I said, Limp Bizkit was revolutionary, and it didn’t need proof. You saw it in people’s reactions [à música]and Sam was one of our childhood mechanics, to say the least. My experience in high school and high school was listening to Limp Bizkit, for sure.

Do you remember when you first heard Sam’s work?
I feel like everyone heard Sam at the same time. It was with “Nookie”. We’ve all heard that bass line. That was a combination of him and Wes. It was everyone’s first listen to Sam and Wes, and it had that Mear One album cover. It was a statement. It was hip-hop, rock, rap — all together.

Did that evoke anything in you?
It reminded me of “Sly” by Herbie Hancock. [Imita os instrumentos da faixa.] For me, that’s when it made sense. And I’m sure if you asked Wes, and if you asked Sam… they probably loved Herbie Hancock. The sonic connections for me… there are gaps in sound and time that, when they appear, make you think ‘damn, this reminds me of that’, but when Limp Bizkit came along, nothing sounded like Limp Bizkit. So, there’s a special place in my heart for Sam.

As someone who mixes genres and sounds, do you see any parallels between Sam’s work and yours?
Without a shadow of a doubt, he influenced my music, for sure.

Limp Bizkit often received mixed responses, but the band’s impact is undeniably remarkable. What do you think their work says about 1990s music — and where it is today?
It felt like someone cared about the music. Sometimes this was buried inside the rock, and they hid the “nutrition” well, so to speak. Their contribution to music and culture said about us — and about me at the time — that everyone wanted to hear something different and new. That’s what Limp Bizkit stood for — and so did Sam. You can’t have one without the other. Their influence. Sam’s influence. This was unquestionable.

From time to time, each generation has its artists that, when you get too old, you just don’t understand. This happens to everyone. At one point it was jazz — everyone thought jazz was the devil’s music. Then it was rap; They said that rap was the devil’s music. Every generation has its artists that people look down on or try to downplay their hard work. And I think Limp Bizkit also showed what hard work was.

After Sam died, Limp Bizkit called him “the heart” of the band. How do you interpret this idea of ​​the bassist being the foundation of a group’s identity?
The roles of bassist and drummer are very locomotive within the music. If you think in terms of engines, you can have a V12 engine and cover a lot of ground quickly with such an engine. The better the engine runs, the better the car. That’s what it represents. And again, Sam kept everything running. This is proof that you couldn’t deny his contribution to music, because he played the role of bassist in a very musical way. It was like water—formless, then colliding, then forming mountains. It takes a different kind of musician to do that, no matter what anyone says.

You can’t discount that. You can’t ignore that. And his death is a reminder of how great he was. It’s a shame that sometimes we only realize it like this. But what if we didn’t have Limp Bizkit? The world was better with him here. My best friends and I just shout Limp Bizkit lyrics at each other, ironically and non-ironically. This represents my childhood, our childhood, my generation.

Can you name an ironic and a non-ironic sentence?
The first line of Chocolate Starfish and the Hot Dog Flavored Water — when things get a little weird, you scream “CHOCOLATE STARFISH!” Then “Take ’em to the Matthews Bridge!” [de “My Generation”] — it’s like, something is about to change, for better or for worse.”

So is this ironic or non-ironic?
See what I mean? It oscillates. It could be the best thing in the world or the worst.

When a band or artist becomes part of the story of a friendship, that’s resonance.
Music is there for all of us. The world is big. At the end of the day, you can transform whatever you want, and I think that’s what Limp Bizkit represented for a lot of people. Wes Borland was there, kicking ass. He was like Sonic the Hedgehog. And Sam, he handled everything, he was just a legend. It had a distinct sound. You knew who he was. I feel so blessed to have experienced Sam’s music and creativity while he was here.

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