Cazwell...All Over Our Faces

Hip-hop artist Cazwell may have had his fill of the East Coast. As the fall temperatures begin laying claim to the summer warmth and cooler breezes settle into the canyons of Manhattan, the West Coast is looking better and better for the singer-songwriter with a penchant for Creamsicles and scantily clad backup dancers. "It's just not good for my wardrobe," Cazwell insists. "I don't have anything to wear during winter here - ever!" So even if Cazwell finds true love in New York, he'll do whatever it takes to make a move out west.

Making moves is something Cazwell knows all too much about. The Massachusetts native moved to New York City in the early 2000s in pursuit of musical stardom and inserted himself seamlessly into Gotham's thriving nightlife scene. Running around with the likes of celebutante Amanda Lepore, the openly gay rapper rode the crest of a new little-explored medium known as the "World Wide Web."

Fast-forward a decade later, and his video for the infectious track "Ice Cream Truck" had become one of the most widely watched music videos on Vevo - no small feat for an artist on the fringe. Spinning the hip-hop video concept on its ear, the luminously lush, eye-popping confection that is "Ice Cream Truck" is two minutes of ass-dropping action in heaven. In 2015, five years after its initial launch, the video, which garnered more than 4.5 million views on YouTube, serves as inspiration for designer Geoffrey Mac's new line of men's underwear.

On his 2014 full-length album "Hard 2 B Fresh", Cazwell delivers his signature brash bits of prose. But this time around, the beats are more energized, with heavy-duty electronica and bass-thumping drives whole-heartedly dedicated to the dance floor. "I have so many mood swings that it's very difficult for me to just stick to one sound," he says.

Mic Check! 1-2

In the world of hip-hop, artists are often and easily compartmentalized and categorized. Regardless of how some perceive them, rappers are today's pop-culture historians, and Cazwell is one of the few out acts evolving the LGBT experience with lyrics for mass consumption. But the words are only half of the game. And in today's music industry, studio time with the right team is a precious commodity.

"I have a fantasy of going into the studio - even if it's only for just three weeks - and coming up with an EP with a solid sound," says the musician. "This thing that just blends together and just sounds like a human body. The thing about it, everyone is so busy to actually sit somebody down for a couple of months." So Cazwell is making changes in his act, and especially in how he works to get his tracks out to his audiences.

"I go to different producers for different things," he explains. He worked with music producer Richie Beretta on a lot of the tracks for "Hard 2 B Fresh," including the collaboration "Helen Keller," featuring "RuPaul's Drag Race" superstar Manila Luzon and Roxy. "If I want something with real guitars or drums -a more organic sound - I'll work with Chris Bracco [co-producer on "Ice Cream Truck"], but it all has to do with timing."

"These are the guys that I've developed a relationship with, that I can actually go into the studio with."

Scheduling time to get to the business of making music is just part of the process, and why releasing single tracks have worked so well for Cazwell and his record label. "It's all about juggling time, but you have to have a sense of humor about it."

"There are times when you just get the beat and have to turn something around in two weeks," Cazwell describes, elaborating on his creative process. "In those cases the track is 'beat-driven' because I have to work around the beats, and then there are times when you just have an idea in your head."

Absolutely No Selfie Control

One such idea was inspired by Oxford Dictionaries' Word of 2013: selfie.

Brutally indulgent, "No Selfie Control" may be the most melodic hit of his career thus far. The smooth-playing groove evokes a Nile Rodgers coolness with a dash of Daft Punk that would be the envy of hit makers Pharrell Williams, all while tauntingly honest in its revealing truth about the artist's near-Kardashian obsession with the selfie. "I just kinda had the idea in my head." He knew he wanted the track to have a disco sound.

Following the established dictum of disco's 120 beats per minute, Cazwell recorded the lyrics over the click track, and then his label, Peace Bisquit (the creative think tank of music impresario Bill Coleman), laid the rest of the music over the melody. "Sometimes it happens just like that, but other times it's a whole concept," he says, which for Cazwell includes the visuals and narrative of his video concepts. "I have to be ready in all ways."

The most important thing, he insists, is that he is always writing. "It's what keeps me growing. You can get wrapped up [so easily] in selling T-shirts, or 'Ice-Cream Truck' underwear, or a club flyer - those things don't really matter as much as my artistic growth."

But marketing the music as well as the "Cazwell" brand isn't something that the artist takes lightly either. "If I don't, people will always ask, 'Have you dropped anything since 'Ice Cream Truck?' "

The videos that have nabbed him most of his Internet attention are a particularly decisive aspect of Cazwell's artistry, and he surrounds himself with the right creative team to give rise to his colorful concepts. "Some directors are better at some things than others," he said, noting his cardinal rule: "If you want to make a 'young-looking video,' get young people to make it."

"I've worked with people who have done like 30 videos," Cazwell says, but on one of his more recent projects, budget constraints forced him to keep things a more modestly scaled. "I'd worked with this 19-year-old" - Bob Bottle, director of his "Downtown" music video - "and he was so excited, you could pick up on that! You can pick up on this innocence that is so exciting. It's a beautiful thing to work with young people."

Still In the Game

It doesn't escape Cazwell that to an entire generation as a gay hip-hop artist, he has emerged as a role model. "I appreciate that some people recognize that," he says, warmly acknowledging the respect that comes with embracing that role. "And I think I'm really supportive of the kids - there aren't so many of us. We have to all be cool about it. I get 'gay respect' wherever I go."

And while he feels the respect and adoration of his fans, like most controversial artists Cazwell has more than his share of naysayers who see the hyper-sexed-up gangsta go-go boys and innuendo in his music and videos as a stereotypical step back in the LGBT community. "I don't really know where some people are coming from sometimes," Cazwell admits. "I feel just as entitled to talk about sex today, as much as I did before. Sometimes I think it's not enough."

He insists that the objectifying and sexualization of beautiful men and women in videos may have changed, but it's still very much prevalent in the music culture. "I didn't invent the idea of guys shaking their asses," he says, noting that straight rappers have saturated MTV with the female equivalent for decades. "You just have to find a new way of doing things."

For an act that uses social media to maximize exposure, Cazwell could teach a course of relevancy, especially in today's music market. With huge numbers of followers on his Twitter and Instagram feeds, Cazwell has kept his personality and music up to the moment, getting fans to slop up his new tunes like a selfish indulgence.

"I think that it's all about consistency, and you have to stay interactive with your fans - that's an amazing thing." In an age where music critics are as instant as a "like" or a comment on social networking, for Cazwell it's generously gratifying that his music is being heard. "It's a great thing knowing you can reach out to people. The game has changed, but it still works."

Cazwell's lack of selfie control has kept him fresh.