The Skaters are new in town, having recently relocated here from San Diego. But they won't be awarded a gold record for their ecstatically manifested ritualistic-psychedelia, and the cost of living here is way higher than there. So, asking the Skaters — James Ferraro and Spencer Clark — how they plan to retain roofs over their heads and keep sustenance in their guts sounded perfect. What I soon learned was that these two have little need to talk about life's necessities; they prefer sincerely rapping about art and mysticism to their day jobs (or lack thereof), which doesn't mean they are down-'n'-willfully-out Henry Miller types. Quite the opposite: They are overwhelmingly positive and open dudes. It just seems as if they live solely to create this huge, fluid sound that evokes images of two lustful felines gloriously, cathartically wailing their sinewy love-howls at ear-shattering levels.
I mean, here are the facts. Clark is white, young, tall, disheveled, sardonic, but stridently idealistic. He appears to be independently wealthy and hates all forms of management. When asked what was his worst job ever, he replied, “Having to rush a trick when he acts out.” In contrast, Ferraro is black, even younger, massive, equally disheveled, hilarious, but definitely spiritual. He grew up poor but is exploding with this contagious sense of possibility. When asked if he ever thought about supporting himself financially with his music, he said, “I am feeling less like I could as I become more disconnected with Earth and more connected with outer space.”
So, as you can plainly read, asking these two if they have secure 401(k) plans is akin to asking a couple of Bedouins about their financial portfolios, and that is a refreshing discovery.