Lyricist Mike Melinoe Takes His Soul to Therapy

Mike Melinoe (Courtesy of Gold Ain't Cheap)

A gripping, declarative opening line sets the tone for a song. "I don't trust a soul, shit not even my mo' …" intones the opening bar of Mike Melinoe's "Floss," the last word downtuned and truncated to make a subverted mind rhyme. It's presumably "momma," considering the subsequent ­couplet.

"Floss" is a fast-living, psyche-unloading, 100-second lifestyle treatise on Melinoe's MUR IDAW EP, released last fall. It recently became the basis for a visually superb short film by the same name, co-directed by Melinoe and Shelly Knicks. The production alternates between the Detroit-raised rapper luxuriating around a mansion in robes with his love interest, rhyming grimly in a ski mask, and partaking in a pensive lakeside therapy session with a psychiatrist portrayed by fellow Austin-based artist Ifé Neuro.

Austin Chronicle: Do you actually go to therapy?

Mike Melinoe: No, not at all – I probably should though. I think that was one of the things I was trying to experience for the first time with this, but it was more so me talking to myself because, obviously, I wrote the whole thing so I understood what I was saying. I wanted to include that imagery because I feel like it's very important for people in general, but most importantly, Black men, to go to therapy.

Personally, I'm that guy that a lot of people go to [to talk about issues] even though I've never been to therapy. And I know that with my homies, they gon' tell me the truth. So though I don't want to pay someone to not listen to me or say, "Yo, the session is up – let's go," after I've been spilling my heart out, there is something to the perspective of knowing the psychology, the science, and everything of the mind. So, yeah I should go to therapy.

AC: In one of those scenes, Ifé Neuro asks you how you're doing dealing with a friend's death and it creates this visibly tense moment. Is that a situation that's pulled from real life? How are you at coping with loss?

MM: Yes, it's definitely something I'm still dealing with. When I wrote that film, I think it was summer of last year, I'd lost my grandma, which is like a mom, you know? She was one of those people for me and my family and I felt that typical thing where your family changes. It was the most movie shit to experience – just literally losing one of the closest people to me. I didn't want to say "my grandma" because I don't want to be so personal, so I say "a friend," unknowing that, in December, my aunt would pass and then my best friend was shot and murdered in January. I ain't gonna lie, I'd never really dealt with it that close … So that's just me trying to ask myself the real questions, but also a question I know my friends are also dealing with.

AC: In "Floss," you ponder the existence of God and say that if there's not a God, then there's some kind of "perfect illusion." Did you grow up Christian?

MM: Yeah, I definitely grew up heavily into church, like to the point where my other grandma is a superintendent for her church. She's that woman. My uncle's a pastor and my family all played in the church and stuff like that. Christianity was something I was brought up in, but getting older I just started to find myself dabbling within different religions and just studying the Quran or studying the Israelites … different types of stuff to make me question what's really going on. I believe in that infinite power for sho' – I don't think that we're just all out here just floatin' around. I don't know if there's one thing, I don't know if there's multiple gods, but I just know, it's some hierarchy. That was just one of the questions that me and my friends have and I feel like, going along with that therapeutic experience, it was another topic that people think about 24/7, but don't have true knowledge – we just have a bunch of explanations that people tell you to believe or not. Instead of saying, "Yeah, I believe in God," I think "a perfect illusion" sounds more daring to the thought process.

AC: If you had to go get a tattoo today, what would it be?

MM: A smiley face. I don't know why, but I've always been a light to the people around me. I'm that guy to come to – that's my life – so having that quick reminder of a smiling face is important. That's been on my brain lately so that's probably gonna be the next thing.

AC: Your MUR IDAW EP came out a year ago. How much have you reevaluated your life since then and will that inform your next moves artistically?

MM: It's something that's always gonna be a process and I'm beyond aware of that. MUR IDAW was more like a stepping stool to me because I came here with $8 with this girl – that whole story – and then we ended up breaking up, I ended up homeless like a year after that, but I feel like my journey with this music stuff was heightened once I came to Austin. I was doing my thing back at [Detroit], but it was just a small-level thought. I was in a collective and I cared so dearly for the collective so it was rare that it was strictly Mike Melinoe. MUR IDAW was about me finding my peace for the first time. Now the next project is more me in that peace, but becoming this star child. I think of everything I'm trying to do now as building a storyline. In a couple of years when my son starts really paying attention to my music, it'll be like, "Oh dang, Daddy was dealing with this," and follow along these narratives and perspectives.

AC: You're a visual artist as well and it feels like there's three representations of Mike Melinoe in the "Floss" short: therapy Mike, ski-mask Mike, and sexy mansion Mike. Is there a trinity being represented in the film?

MM: With painting, that's the real therapy. When I started painting, I felt like so much stress lifted off my shoulders by being able to create with no true intent or direction of where I'm going. With this film, I tried to merge different feelings or personas into an experience. At the end of the day, it's just shades of us – you might get mad at some point or love somebody at a point, but it's the same person. It's just we have these different characters that make us up. The film was really supposed to look like I was isolated on a retreat-type thing. Having so much dialogue take place can feel irrelevant to me. I think people should be able to think whatever they come up with. If I'm graced with the opportunity to explain myself, I do that, but I like for people to just wander sometimes because there's so many different people dealing with different things. Somebody could be like, "Dang, forget therapy," or, "Hey, I relate to that. Why is that coming back up in my life? Man, let me go to church." Let them just pick up things instead of me saying Christianity's the greatest, or Islam is, and stating perspectives. So in the retreat, the therapist thing was never real – it was me and my brain having this conversation, analyzing everything.

AC: On his podcast this month, Danny Brown compared the summer in Austin to the winter in Detroit because it's too intense to go outside for three months either way. Which is worse?

MM: I accept it, but I think in Michigan, if you got a job that's outside in the winter, or if you have to travel and they ain't plowing the roads – that sucks. But I love the winter. I feel like everybody should go through that experience. I remember when I was a kid how I used to feel being in snow and then when you get older, working in it I was like, "Oh, this shit kinda sucks!" I'd rather be in the heat – I enjoy the heat. I was out at Pease Park yesterday with my son just running around in the water playing and really nobody was out there. You gotta enjoy that man, because sometimes I feel like being in the A/C is so programmed that I'm not supposed to have that. I gotta touch the sun and just feel it. I would love to move back to Michigan, but I just can't deal with the winter right now. I don't want to shovel.

AC: You mentioned on Twitter that you have an upcoming project with Kydd Jones. Complete this sentence: Kydd Jones is ____.

MM: Underrated. We really only worked on one record. He sent it one day and I sent it back the same day. Then I started listening to his other music and seeing his creative ideas and concepts with music and clothes – just brilliant. So I feel like he's an innovator. Yeah, "innovator." He's at the alpha level. When you've been through so much in life, you're able to shape yourself into so many different facets. The song that we have is ridiculous. I'm patiently chilling, whatever he wants to do with it, but the dude is talented as shit.

AC: How close are you to figuring out life?

MM: I feel like you will never be able to figure out life, I just think there's certain things within life that will make it easier to live. I been reading this book on just breathing and a very good book about the subconscious and the conscious and how the female is the subconscious and the male is the conscious and how you really do make up your life. I grew up with nightmares, like I'm talking heavy nightmares, which is why I use "Melinoe" [after the ancient Greek goddess] – the bringer and source of nightmares. And it was a woman, my mom, that was the person to bring me out of that. So I think by having so many nightmares, living and just being petrified and paranoid in Detroit where there's like so much shit that goes on you got to just live a certain way, I think it allowed me to have this imaginative, dreamy life where I want better for myself.

I didn't know that was a manifestation at that time. I was living my life and certain things were occurring. I've been drawing and painting and being creative forever, but it's a level when you start to take control of this shit. I do believe we're all gonna go at some time, but I believe that we will live forever and we have this existence of continuation in some form. I don't think with our soul being this powerful and our minds being this powerful that this is it. And the growth that we all deal with everyday feels very important. So I feel like I figured it out enough to survive and not be tripping about shit that doesn't matter.

Mike Melinoe performs Friday, July 22, at Flamingo Cantina on a bill with Sheridan Reed.