Flying Lotus is being out-styled by his grandmother, Marilyn McLeod. The two are sitting next to each other at the Steinway piano in his Los Angeles home, recalling memories of the experimental electronic artist’s childhood. FlyLo, born Steven Ellison, looks effortlessly cool in a motorcycle jacket, but it’s the 80-year-old McLeod’s black-and-white blouse with a high-neck collar that has everyone—including photographers and Ellison’s friends— commenting. McLeod’s accolades far, far precede today’s look, though.
In the 1970s, she became part of the musical legacy of her hometown of Detroit as a Motown hitmaker, composing disco reconstructions like Diana Ross’ 1976 chart topper “Love Hangover,” and Freda Payne’s “I Get High (On Your Memory),” which New York rapper Styles P memorably sampled on his 2002 smokers’ anthem, “Good Times.” McLeod also co-wrote Marvin Gaye’s “The World Is Rated X,” a funk track about drugs, violence, and the neglected conditions of the impoverished with lyrics like “Dirty water we can’t drink/Dirty air, it’s so unfair” that are still relevant today.
Ellison’s living room walls are painted dark, and the space looks like a creative nerd’s paradise. There’s an internet-enabled arcade console that can host a ton of retro gaming system emulators; Afrofuturist art; a vintage rocking chair which he says reminds him of one that “Auntie used to have”—Auntie being McLeod’s sister, jazz and spiritual music legend Alice Coltrane—and other sundry oddities, from books on David Lynch and Alejandro Jodorowsky to Aphex Twin merch and a replica Chucky doll.
Ellison and McLeod’s rapport goes beyond grandmother and grandson; the pair share a palpable musical camaraderie. In between stories about McLeod’s career or Ellison’s precocious interest in music, he noodles on his piano while she comments on his playing, as well as her own declining abilities. In 2011, McLeod suffered a stroke and she has since lived with some physical limitations. Throughout the interview, Ellison, whose sixth studio album, Flamagra, is out this week, goads her to touch the keys. It’s not evidence of any erstwhile brattiness but a glimpse at the devoted relationship they’ve built since he was a little boy, growing up in McLeod’s home in L.A.’s San Fernando Valley with his mom Tammy. He toiled over a lot of music there, including his debut album, 1983. At one point, Ellison turns on some old family videos digitized from VHS cassettes in his studio. “They were having crazy parties before I was born,” he says. “Every home movie is just them dancing at the house. It seemed so cool.”
At one point in the afternoon, Ellison pulls out his phone to play a recording of a song called “Lucky Baby,” which McLeod wrote only to play for him when he was a baby. It’s a fluttering pop-R&B track that renders the two beamingly nostalgic, singing along to the lyrics and sharing family secrets. When it’s over, Ellison tries to get McLeod to play the piano again. He has pulled her right arm onto the keys. “Smack it,” he says. McLeod plays a few notes.
“You gotta give me your powers now. You’ve had the powers way too long. Give them to me. Put them in my hands,” he says, half-joking, extending his hands to his grandmother. McLeod puts her hands in his. “You got it, baby.”
Steve Ellison: She had synthesizers and a lot of drum machines: 808, 606, 303. She was always making music when I was a little kid. A couple times she would try to get me to sing on stuff but I was all shy and ran away.
Marilyn McLeod: You always wanted to be in the mix when we were trying to make songs, though.
Ellison: I always wanted to be around but I didn’t want to be on the songs—same as now. When I look back on that time, it totally makes sense. But it’s such a weird thing. When I tell people about that, they can’t believe you had drum machines at the house.
McLeod: It was special to have those.
Ellison: When I look back, I realize how it was so rare.
McLeod: He was always right there. [To Steve]: You remember that video you showed me?
Ellison: There’s a video of me trying to take a microphone, fighting with my little cousin over it, and then a Stevie Wonder song came on the radio and I just stopped everything and went over to the radio [in a trance].
McLeod: We had a house full of music because my sister made music. I just wanted to do what my sister did. I wanted to be like her because she was a really outstanding pianist.
Ellison: How old were you when you started playing?
McLeod: 10, maybe.
Ellison: Were you reading music then?
McLeod: I was trying to really do it and play the music. Now, I can’t. I’m mad about it.
Ellison: I would be mad, too! She had a stroke and now her left side doesn’t work too well.
McLeod: It really hurts me emotionally. When I try and go to the piano and do something, it’s not there. But I gotta keep going. I get really angry about it because I want to do it. I’m a pianist. I still am. I try to do it sometimes and it’s not coming right, but I gotta get out of my head. I like that roll-up piano you gave me because I can play it in bed. When did you start playing piano, Steve?
Ellison: A year ago. I’ve been messing with it for a long time but I’ve only been taking it seriously for a year. Reading music has opened up me up so much. I’ve been experimenting for so long and trying to make sense of things just from my ears. It takes forever. Now I can get where I want much quicker. YouTube has been really helpful. There are apps that teach you piano and ear training.
McLeod: I can’t even remember, I was so young. We lived close to Motown and I just started getting to know some of the people there. I met Berry Gordy, he was the man. Then I met Janey Bradford.
Ellison: She became her writing partner. I think they were rivals, lowkey. But who was writing the keys and who was writing the words?
McLeod: Both of us. And that’s what makes the whole tune.
Ellison: What was it about her that made you want to work with her?
McLeod: I was good and she was good. Seriously. They wanted us to do things one way but we always tried it our way.
Ellison: I remember you guys demoing stuff at the house, but she wasn’t who you wrote your bigger songs with.
McLeod: That was Pam Sawyer. Me and Pam really got it together. We were really stars. She and I just hit it off. It’s really hard to find another writer like that. We did a lot of songs and we had hit records. That was the best part of the whole thing.
Ellison: How did you even get to work with Marvin Gaye?
McLeod: I liked Marvin Gaye a lot. He liked me, too. Every time we would go in the studio, he’d be like, “You’re getting better.” It would make me really angry, play angry.
McLeod: I loved it!
Ellison: Don’t lie. Remember when I was 16? That’s when I first started making beats. And you would be like, “Why does it sound like somebody kicking down garbage cans?”
McLeod: But I was surprised and loved it when I found out he was making it. He’s always been that kind of person who is gonna try and he’s gonna get it done. His music is different. Everybody likes it. Everywhere we’d go together, everybody was talking about it. I was surprised that he was going that far. He was usually so reserved.
Ellison: I was shy back then. I was just playing video games and being an introvert with my Ninja Turtles. When I got into music, that was another way to be by myself.
