Transcript: Tangerine’s Marika Justad on navigating the messiness of being in your 20s
This story was originally published in the November 2nd, 2018 issue of The Slant. Want more Asian American stories like this one? Subscribe to the newsletter for free.
This is the full transcript of our feature on Tangerine’s Marika Justad.
I read your press release for White Dove and the thing that grabbed me was the last sentence, that your music is full of “the messiness of finding yourself in your 20s.” Could you speak to that as a driving force?
We actually wrote that line! (laughs) That was something we wanted to put out there. I think it’s, you know, your 20s is such an interesting time. It encompasses different phases, of course — early 20s can feel really different from late 20s — but I think you’re just wrestling with the fact that you’re still young enough to be dreaming and trying to build your career, trying to figure out who you’re going to be.
But you start to feel this, kind of, sense of — I don’t know if it’s dread or if it’s just pressure. But the walls are closing in a little bit. Like we have this line in “Local Mall,” “the dogs are closing in at the local mall.” Because you are aware that time is moving quickly and it starts to move faster the older you get. So it kind of puts this edge on all those adventures or dreams that you’re having.
That reminds me — you moved to L.A. from Seattle just last year for what you told the Seattle Times was for a “creative change.” So how has being older, moving to L.A. treated you there?
You know, L.A. to me has been really great. Really inspiring for all of us. I mean, we love Seattle. Maybe we’ll live there again. But we were all born and raised there, completely, so I think it’s just important for creative people or everyone to step out of your comfort zone. Because we know so many people in Seattle, we’re so comfortable there. I feel being uncomfortable is a really good experience to have.
I went to school briefly back east at Sarah Lawrence College, years ago. And I ended up coming back home. And I always wanted to recreate that experience of feeling uncomfortable, but also feeling really, really alive and excited. That’s important when you’re trying to create something like an album or an EP.
Has L.A. been everything you expected?
(laughs) I mean, with L.A., you get so many warnings. Like, people saying, “don’t move there! It sucks!” So we were like, okay. It’s gonna be ugly. Traffic is gonna suck. I don’t know, like people will be crazy or whatever. So you kind of come in with these lowered expectations. But honestly, it’s not like those things aren’t true, but there’s something compelling about it at the same time. So we’ve been enjoying it.
And there are some elements, like it’s a lot more diverse here, which is something we’ve been looking for a little bit, so that’s been nice.
What is it about the crowd being more diverse that’s interesting to you?
It’s funny you said crowd, because I wasn’t even thinking about that, but that is true, we did notice that. We did notice that, actually, when we were touring with SALES a year or two ago. The L.A. crowd was super diverse and that was really fun. I mean, all these places have been really awesome.
Miro and I, our mom was born in South Korea. And my dad was born in the midwest and he’s Caucasian. But we always grew up in a pretty all-white environment in Seattle. I mean, Seattle’s an awesome place, and we grew up in a place that really fostered the arts and was really encouraging. But at the same time it can be a little stifling. It’s nice to break out into a bigger world, where people from different communities, different backgrounds contribute to the music scene.
Has audience reaction changed at all since you’ve been in L.A.?
I mean, we’d played L.A. while living in Seattle. When we were on tour with SALES we were actually based in Seattle, and when we were touring with Bleachers we had just moved here. It didn’t feel like we lived here — we’d been here for a month.
I guess it’s been nice because I don’t feel — I guess my perspective is limited to where I grew up, which is in the Pacific Northwest. I just didn’t always feel that kids from other backgrounds, and specifically maybe other Asian kids — they didn’t always feel very comfortable taking the spotlight necessarily. And it’s just been really nice to see Asian American fans at our show participating in the indie world, because we didn’t see a lot of that.
Actually, the more that I think about it, I have noticed that we have probably have a higher percentages of Asian people in our audience than maybe other bands do, although that’s not an official study. (laughs) But I think the fact that — like when I was a kid, I was a big fan of the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, because I loved their music, but also because it was nice to see that [Sarah O, who is of Korean and Polish descent] came from a background that was similar to mine. She was able to be out there, people let her be out there, you know?
Yeah, and of course a bunch of other artists of mixed race, like Mitski and Japanese Breakfast, have made waves over the years too. I know people might ask this a little too much, but do you think being of mixed race has impacted your songwriting?
For sure, like 100%. I think it’s because the mixed race experience — though it’s the only experience I know — it’s very specific. It’s not the same. I didn’t grow up in a big Asian community that I felt accepted in, and I didn’t grow up in a white community I’d felt accepted in either. I always felt that — and my sister probably feels the same way — that I was walking this line.
And generally speaking — we had a good childhood, but there was this feeling of everywhere you go, there’s this insecurity that someone could say something to remind you that I don’t belong here. This feeling that you’re never totally in your space. You’re always in somebody else’s space. And I’m sure that that’s influenced a lot of my lyrics, for sure.
And now you’re in L.A, where there are hopefully more mixed race folks?
There definitely are. Like for me, I don’t speak Korean. I never did — my mom was encouraged to forget it when she moved here, unfortunately. It would be really awesome if I could speak it now. So I’ve always felt kind of an insecurity connecting with the Asian community, too. Because eventually, I’m like “oh, I can’t relate to some of these experiences that you’ve had,” because I was so removed from my mother’s background. And she was kind of forcibly removed from her background.
And so in some ways, I guess I’ve always felt this kind of insecurity about both sides of my heritage. Like, can I claim it? Can I go into the room and say, “Hey guys! I’m Irish!” But of course nobody’s gonna think that I am. (laughs) Everyone will be like, “you’re Korean.” But then I also can’t contribute, like “oh, I’ve never been to Korea.” So there’s that, sort of. I guess it’s a little lonely. It is what it is, it’s totally fine, but that’s been my experience. (laughs)
That’s really interesting, because often when we speak to Asian American artists, we hear a lot that they feel pigeonholed, or that they feel responsible for somehow representing their community, or their people.
That’s the crazy thing about being mixed race. Like I often didn’t know how I was perceived until people told me. To be honest, we’ve been really fortunate. We’re an indie band, and a lot of the people who have written about us, whether the publication has been smaller or larger, have just been really respectful and interested in a positive way in how it relates to our identity. But I haven’t felt that they’d been laying it on too thick or that it was the only thing they cared about. We’ve been fortunate enough to have thoughtful reviews.
If anything, it’s been the gender thing that’s been more pervasive. We’ve almost felt pigeonholed from that. Because I think there’s been this tendency to almost make women who make music almost its own genre. And I’ve run into a lot of that, like female vocals, girl drummer, all that stuff. Which I think people want to support, because in the past it’s been rare. But sometimes I kind of wish that it wasn’t the only thing that people talk about.
In light of that, I’m hoping it’s not overbearing that an Asian American newsletter is talking to you about being mixed race in music.
Oh, no, it’s a pleasure to talk about it in the foreground of what it means to be talking about it. It’s an important conversation to have, to be conscious about it.
Some Asian American artists, like Awkwafina, try to directly grapple with their Asian American identity, directly bringing up their heritage in their lyrics. Was it a deliberate decision by Tangerine not to interrogate being mixed-race in your songs?
I know in the lyrics we don’t really discuss that. I think it comes through in little ways, and it goes back to what I was saying earlier about this awkwardness that I felt about what I can claim when I feel so removed from my Korean culture. Like we grew up eating Korean food, but I didn’t have any Korean friends or family. And we didn’t speak the language.
And I’d always felt like — as a little kid, I didn’t even understand I was Korean. And I remember going to school and people saying, “oh, you’re Asian,” and me saying, “oh, I guess I am. Cool.” (laughs) It just happens like that. It is what it is.
Maybe there’s a little bit of — not something so specific as that, but these songs are about grappling with who you are, and who you wanna be. I kind of see it like, no matter what this song is about — I don’t know if it’s conscious — I kind of inject this uneasiness, is the word I want to say, into these lyrics. I think it’s the product of that feeling, that you’re sallying the line between two worlds and not belonging to either necessarily.
There’s a line in “Sly Moon,” a song we released last fall. “You were the golden child, the all-American boy in their eye.” And that’s sort of me reflecting on the way I was in a school with pretty much all white kids. And that was me talking about — well, that was about a guy. (laughs) But it is kind of about how some people can be perceived as these golden children, and starting to realize they’re not really perceived in that way.
What might people be surprised about by your music?
Well, chatting with you, maybe they might be surprised that I’m not being more specific about being Asian. (laughs) I think often people are surprised, after listening to our music and looking at a photo, that [my sister and I are Asian].
I think my sister and I, what Tangerine is, we’ve always kind of been between genres. I don’t even know if we’re — it’s probably a fault in the world of playlisting, because I feel like we’re maybe indie rock, but we’re also pop, but we don’t get perfectly listed for that, and I think that’s a product of who we are. And it’s probably something that will come through when people listen to the music.
Do you like that it’s not that easy to place?
I think it’s true to who we are and what we do. We make the music that we want to listen to, with a lot of different influences. And for better or for worse, the music we make, you can be conscious about it, but it’s a part of who you are. You can’t really help that or change that. If you’re being honest.
I read a short quote that you said when you were in Seattle that people often described your sound as “Californian,” even when your lyrics were about driving in your car in Seattle. I had to ask — did you ever resent being called Californian despite being a Seattle band?
(laughs) Sometimes, we were like, does that mean we sound happy and without substance? ‘cos like, what does that mean? But I think that we didn’t necessarily fit the Seattle sound. And so people weren’t sure what to call it. And I guess that’s what they landed on.
What have you been listening to?
What goes into our music is we have such a crazy variety of music. Like lately I’ve been getting into Bruce Springsteen a lot. And of course we really like Kate Bush, and like 90’s Madonna, and all those things are really different but they all somehow end up in our music.
What’s one of your favorite backstories to a song?
I mean, I would say “Local Mall,” but I think I’ve already talked about it too much. I’ll have to do a different one. Maybe “Cherry Red.” I feel like we’ve been getting people saying “oh my god, it’s so nostalgic,” and we’re like yes, it is, it’s what it’s supposed to be about. (laughs)
It’s like a tribute to different friendships I had growing up, like female friendships specifically. I think Miro can relate to this, too. We just kind of ran a little wild in our girl pasts. Got into trouble, had a little too much fun sometimes. And it’s about capturing that feeling of complete fearlessness. Like at the time, you really do believe that nothing bad could ever happen to you. You’re like, “bad things happen to other people.” And it’s ridiculous but it’s also super intoxicating. And the song is about that. It’s a tribute to those times.
Sisters Marika and Miro Justad and Tobias Kuhn have been making music together since childhood. In 2017, Tangerine moved from Seattle to Los Angeles to pursue music full-time. After recording the singles “Fever Dream” and “Sly Moon,” produced by Michael Shuman (Queens of the Stone Age, Mini Mansions) and Zach Dawes (Mini Mansions), and touring the U.S. with Bleachers, they created White Dove. It’s an 80’s guitar-laced pop EP about yearning, nostalgia, female friendship, and the messiness of finding yourself in your 20s. Produced by Sanj & Luca Buccellati (Tei Shi). White Dove is sad enough to dance alone to, bumps hard enough for your next crazy night out.
Find Tangerine at their website and listen to “Cherry Red” on Spotify.
