An Interview With Nourished by Time

Image via Lauren Davis

Show your love of the game by subscribing to Passion of the Weiss on Patreon so that we can keep churning out interviews with legendary producers, feature the best emerging rap talent in the game, and gift you the only worthwhile playlists left in this streaming hellscape.

Reed Jackson once got called J Balvin outside a Publix in Miami.

In the back of the Lodge Room, something — or someone — is causing a ruckus.

Singer Laetitia Tamko, aka Vagabon, is on-stage at this historic former Masonic temple in Los Angeles’ Highland Park neighborhood. She’s vibrant, but the performance is an understated, acoustic version of her usual set, which isn’t helping. Her vocals drown in a smattering of laughs, chatter and what I think was a dog bark?

Vagabon politely tells the crowd to shut the hell up. I turn my head to see her tour opener, Baltimore’s Nourished By Time, at the center of the din. He’s flanked by three fluffy golden retrievers.

“Yeah, I got in trouble for that,” he says, laughing a few months later, phoning from New York. “I blame the guy with the dog. The fucking dog was… I’ve never seen a dog on tour.”

The singer, also known as Marcus Brown, admits he wasn’t exactly being a model audience member, either. After his performance, he had met up with some old friends in the crowd and was celebrating (not that loudly, he adds) the fact he’d just wrapped one of his biggest tours yet.

It can perhaps be concluded then that both Brown and the dogs were simply buzzing with excitement. (It should also be noted that Brown is quick to shout out Vagabon while we talk.)

After all, it wasn’t that long ago that Brown was a barber’s apprentice. And a videographer. And a Whole Foods employee. He’d been trying to make it as a musician for nine years, by his count, before finally breaking through with last year’s Erotic Probiotic 2, a record he mostly recorded in his parents’ Baltimore basement during the pandemic.

The project started as a “performance art thing,” he tells me, that was supposed to be more visually based. But Probiotic 2’s homemade style of warped ‘80s R&B, anchored by Brown’s husky voice and Roland synthesizer, struck a chord with listeners and made him a critical darling. Within a year he signed to XL Recordings and released an equally acclaimed follow-up EP, Catching Chickens.

The opener to Chickens, “Hell of a Ride,” is one of the year’s best songs – a euphoric breakup anthem you sing-a-long to at the club with your friends. Its soaring bridge and thrumming keyline sound like something drawn up by an English new wave band 40 years ago, not one dude on a home studio setup.

[embedded content]

“I’m just not trying to fuck everything up,” he says about his recent success. “I’m trying not to, like, mess up the career stuff. It’s a whole thing. My brain has a lot of blocks for no reason.”

Brown has always dealt with an “overactive brain,” he tells me, and his sudden immersion into minor stardom has led to some serious overstimulation, he says. (This and smartphones, which we both agree are the devil).

But I’d argue that Brown’s artistry is a direct reflection of his fast-moving mind, which seems to glow with earnestness and wit as we quickly cover a swath of topics, from the misconceptions of liberalism (“there’s mad rich leftists”) to meditation being a little overrated (“it’s like a healthy cigarette”) to his so-so time spent at the Berklee School of Music (“everyone was trying to oppress each other”).

Even his stance on the Kendrick vs. Drake beef, which hits a fever pitch around the time we speak (with Kendrick dropping the snappy finisher, “Not Like Us,” a few days prior), goes deeper than which song has the cruelest jibe or hardest beat. Instead he’s thinking about the shadowy industry figures who are really benefiting from the battle.

Despite having a deep awareness of the world’s flaws, injustices and darkness, Brown seems to maintain an inherent appreciation for his existence. Each recognition of the harsh realities of life usually comes with a shrug of his shoulders and a crack of his smile. Most people would probably describe Brown as a deep dude but also maybe a silly one.

“I don’t like when people are content with how the world is because it’s trash — you shouldn’t be content. But also I don’t like just the doom and gloom.”

Before heading out back on the road, this time as the headliner backed by a proper band (he was solo on stage when I saw him at the Lodge Room), Brown takes a moment to reflect on how far he’s come in the past year and where he wants to go next.