Custom

Custom is a difficult person to summarize in “25 words or less.” He’s an unusual dichotomy – at first glance, he’s a low-key, twenty-something, 6-foot-8 skater replete with the pants hanging at half mast. Yet on closer inspection, especially when delving into the lyrics of his record “Fast,” one finds a complex, crazy, multitalented artist.

Custom finds much of his inspiration in the streets, clubs, people and general chaos of New York city. He lives in an industrial loft in lower Manhattan sandwiched between fish markets and sweat-shops. The loft, dubbed 120, is a Factory-like haven for a tight-knit collective of friends including artists of all kinds, musicians, writers, photographers, general wastoids and models. 120 is a hub of activity around the clock, especially in the studio which Custom built himself.

If Custom has to leave the house he does so on one of his three favored means of transport: a long board, a KTM or a Cop Car. The cop car, known as Liberty, or Libby for short, is a retired NYPD Caprice – still with search light, antennaes and aircooled wheels. In that it is a cop car, it gets full cop treatment: you can run lights, do burnouts, drifts, as if in pursuit, and park anywhere without getting ticketed. The KTM is a 640cc Austrian motorcross bike on which Custom pretends that New York City is just one big motorcross track. This often leads to real pursuits with real cop cars, although he has yet to be caught.

Custom’s very wry and quirky sense of humor, along with his uncanny ability to weave words together in unexpected ways leads one on an adventure down the rabbit hole when listening to his debut album “Fast.” ARTISTdirect will release the album, which was written, produced and primarily performed by Custom, in early 2002.