CARBIKE
Sitting down with the LA artist shortly after the release of his long-awaited sophomore record.
It takes courage to walk without a plan. To go forth without heed for a destination, and instead trust that you'll know when to stop. No doubt the venture is riskier, but it's also more romantic, and the places it leads more their own. Vessel, the sophomore album from LA artist CARBIKE, is the product of such an approach. It's a refreshingly open and tender pop record that reaches for so much (trap-level swag, butter smooth electro-soul, ripping house beats) and comes away with plenty in hand.
I've known CARBIKE since I moved to LA, and he's been working on this album for most of that time. I can track living here through our texts about it: what demos were on what versions, what tracks were getting mixed, and what videos were being shot. 5 years is a long time to spend on something (as we'll get into in this interview), but I always knew he'd see it through. When the final product arrived this past May, it was the culmination of years of effort, many gut decisions, and an uncompromising commitment to getting things right.
Thematically, Vessel moves through a melange of early adult woes: time is moving fast, my life is changing quickly, who am I? These feelings are accurate but can be cloying when made big and turned into song. CARBIKE, however, meditates on them with a quiet casualness that adds weight without sacrificing perspective. He's always looking at the bigger picture, the moment in the context of the journey. On single and album highlight "Loosie," he fixates on the past in the face of stagnation in the present, while earlier, on "Buggin," he describes a state of mild paranoia as he bounces between thoughts of a higher power and mortal fear. The album shines best when he's in this mode of reflection, taking stock of what was and becoming comfortable with what is now.
Vessel's amalgamation of so many influences into what’s essentially pop music reminds me of Mildew, the 2019 debut by Chicago musician Jack Larsen. I enjoyed that album for its boldness and purity of spirit, having often returned to it as a means of remembering those years of my life. If an album should do anything, it should encapsulate the feelings associated with the time it was made during. This is precisely what Vessel excels at. It captures my twenties, which, I imagine, are a lot of other people's twenties too.
A few weeks ago, I had the pleasure of sitting down with the man behind the album and talking to him about his long-awaited follow-up.
This interview has been edited for clarity and length.
Nick DeMasi: It was five years between Siberian and Vessel. What took so long?
CARBIKE: So first and foremost, I released Siberian under the name JOON. I was about to turn 24 when that one came out, and I was being really annoying to myself and everyone around me, because I didn’t want to be JOON. It’s my middle name, and I wanted to separate myself and the music more. I also felt like a bajillion JOONs were popping up at the time. What really got under my skin was this one time someone reached out showing love, but he was talking about a different JOON the whole time.
[laughter from both]
So that was the catalyst. CARBIKE was a name I always had in my back pocket. I was goofing around with friends one time, and I went on a tangent where I imagined myself as some dude named CARBIKE, and it made everyone laugh. It felt good, it felt free, and that was refreshing. The first single, “Press Me,” came out in 2023. “Press Me” was a weird first single because it felt like an interlude, which it eventually became on the album, but at the time, I was just so ready to roll out the name change and plant my flag as CARBIKE. I just had to get it out there. Vessel really started in 2023, so it’s been like 3 years.
When you put out “Press Me,” did you have an idea of what Vessel was gonna be? Or did it come after the fact? And how did the album change between what you thought you were gonna make and what ultimately came out earlier this year?
When “Press Me” came out, I was gonna make a dance project. “Press Me” and what ended up being “timesup!” were on there, but it was just a baby idea. eldia was up, gum[.mp3] was up, dance music was big. Then I was struck by how forced it all felt. I was trying to carve out my identity as an artist, but was being heavily influenced by what was around me to a point I could tell was disingenuous. Dance is a big part of my musical DNA, but I wasn’t trying to make a straight dance album. I’m glad I waited because I think I would have just gotten lost in the sea of people shoving drum and bass loops into songs that didn’t need them. After the boom, you could tell who was actually good at making dance music and who was just bandwagoning. So I scrapped the whole project, but kept bits and pieces I liked.
How long after “Press Me” did you have that revelation?
It was when we put out “MGS” in April 2023, a month after “Press Me.” Making that song opened up my mind and ears. It felt super refreshing and weird, but still me. That’s when I became open to exploring a bit more.
Gotcha. You made the whole project while living in LA. Has the city influenced your music?
Totally, man. We’re very fortunate to be here. I love LA because it’s got a good balance of nature and city, which allows me to take my time and not get burnt out. It’s also the hub. I love when people come here and are like, “Hey, want to work?” It’s truly a blessed city. The Bay, where I grew up, is cool, but there are more scenes down here. I want to make all kinds of music when I’m in LA; there’s so much variety.
That also tracks with you not wanting to pigeonhole yourself by doing the dance project. The city inspired you to branch out further.
And all those eldia guys and dance homies are in New York. That’s also why I felt disingenuous, because it’s their energy. I had to open my eyes and look around LA, I had to see everything that’s happening here. And I’m a California boy, all in all.
You start the album off with the lyric “Way I see it, I’m in a maze.” What inspired you to write that?
I remember exactly where I was when I locked that in. Going back to your first question, part of why making Vessel took so long was because of my creative process. On the one hand, it’s a very instinctual album, but it’s also so calculated. I was boiling down hundreds of ideas; I was at war with myself the whole time. It’s a paradox because I know my best moments are reflexive and come from pure instinct, but my default is overthinking. I’m a perfectionist, and I have a bunch of trains of thought going at the same time. That lyric started as a mumbled lyric for a reference track that Jun and I made in 2022 or 2023. Around the time of my show with gum at El Cid in 2025, I felt like Vessel was coming together, and that was my chance to break out the new stuff after being quiet for a minute. I was so set on “Nothing Wrong” being the intro for the album and the show. Before then, I was having trouble opening sets, but I knew for the Vessel cycle I wanted to start with “Nothing Wrong.” The day before, or maybe hours before, I remember forcing words on paper, and that’s what came out. It proved to me that I can just sit and grind something out as long as I still capture the feeling and sound. Those words stuck with me because the process of making Vessel made me feel like I was in a maze! It felt like I was stuck in a loop, like my heart and mind were battling. I was running in circles for a lot of my mid-20s.
Do you feel relieved from that now that the album is out? Or is it just how you’re wired, for better or worse?
No. I feel a sense of accomplishment, but I don’t feel satiated. I’m really glad that Siberian isn’t the last album I released. The goal for Vessel was to set the new ground zero for me as CARBIKE. I’m sure every artist feels this about at least one of their projects, but I can’t really go back and listen to Siberian because it’s so old now. “Hologram” is the only song that still sticks around. The process I used to make that song is what I carried over to Vessel. It’s been a month since I released it, so I get the squirmies a bit. Some days, I don’t want to hear it at all; some days, I want to hear it all day. But no matter what, I can confidently say I won’t ever want to delete Vessel. I’ll never be ashamed of it.
It is quite a leap from Siberian. It definitely feels like amateur vs. professional. But there’s still a lot of charm to that album.
I’ll never delete Siberian either. I’m cool with it being up because Vessel is such a huge leap forward, but it’s not a huge switch-up.
No, definitely not. Siberian‘s just way more rap. Which, to your point, if you had done a straight dance record, that may have felt like switching up. But Vessel feels like you made the world bigger. The core is still there, but there’s so much more around it.
Music for me has always been like a block of marble, where you know what the sculpture you want out of it is, but it’s not gonna look like that right away. You gotta chip away at it over time. Vessel is what I knew I was gonna make back as a teenager, I just didn’t know how I was gonna get there. I think 18-year-old me would be juiced that I made Vessel. Siberian was rougher, but there were hints of where I was gonna get. And I cared deeply about both projects when I made them. I never felt like I was just making music for no reason. I really was putting my heart into them.
My favorite lyric on Vessel is “Every song is a gift” off of “Guess So.” It’s such a nice sentiment. Where do songs come from?
My subconscious for sure. When I was a kid, I wasn’t allowed to make music; my parents weren’t trying to hear that, so I was on some backpack shit. I’d write hella songs, but I never knew how to actualize them. I didn’t have a mic or a DAW or anything; it was just me and the pen and pad. But over time, that changed to where now I just get on the mic, listen to the beat, and mumble or hum out the song. I don’t know what it’ll be about per se, but I know the emotion I want to deliver. I know the type of song it’s gonna be. Putting words to those really raw gut sounds and feelings is where the battle happens, which is ironic because I used to be such a wordy guy.
Is that when you’re chipping away at the marble? After you lay down the raw vocals and have to find the phrase that was in there all along.
Totally. When it’s a raw idea, the potential is limitless in terms of what it could be about, but when I put words to it, it’s like writing it in ink. And of course, you’re supposed to make bad first drafts, but I don’t want to bog down the feeling if I write something mid. When it’s a mumbled lyric, it feels like it lives in the air.
So you feel like you lose something when you have to write lyrics?
Yeah, but it’s a double-edged sword because when I really get the lyrics right, then it feels like the idea is locked in.
There are a number of references on the project to a higher power. On “Loosie,” for example, you have the line: “God sending me to different lands.” Are you a spiritual person?
I’m not really. I grew up in a Christian household, but I couldn’t tell you the last time I went to church. I don’t meditate, but I need to, and I’m not a “chakras” guy either; I’m not rubbing amethyst on myself. So I don’t practice any spiritual stuff, but I do believe there are things beyond me. A lot of my life has worked out like that. I trust my gut for so much. Even moving to LA with no plan right before COVID. There’s a lyric on “Shadow” that goes “Invisible forces, autopilot, taught to me by no one.” I feel that heavily because there was never anyone egging me on to do music. My parents were actively against it. But it came from somewhere. Some days I’ll wake up and be like “Oh damn, I got here,” you know, and I just feel like that’s something beyond me.
Does the title, Vessel, come from that belief?
I was trying so hard to come up with a different name than Vessel, and I’m glad I didn’t because it would’ve been forced. I was in Korea in 2024, and we were travelling across a bridge in Busan that was surrounded by all of these bodies of water; the name just struck me in that moment. It encompassed a lot of what I’d been feeling in the span of the project. I had no strict vision or idea when I started making Vessel. I was really just trying to roll with it the whole time. Siberian was so focused, I knew what it was gonna be called, what it was gonna be about, what the cover art was gonna look like. It was so calculated and structured. This time I wanted to do the opposite. I just wanted to make a record that felt like me. A vessel for my sound. Later, when I was on my notes app thinking about what I meant by “vessel,” I realized I felt like one. I was out in the ocean, floating along for the ride. I wanted this album to be like a fine pressed juice. Like, if you took my sound and put it in a juicer, Vessel would be what came out, so that even 40 years later, you could go back to it and be like, “Okay, this is what he was about.”
Time is also a very big theme on this project. Why is it so top of mind?
Maybe because I’m getting up there. I’m approaching 30 sooner rather than later. Not that that’s bad. Things are just moving fast. Life is giving me such big adult responsibilities that I never could have foreseen. And yet, I still feel so childlike. Time is something I fear, but also respect, because Vessel couldn’t have been made without time.
Do you have a favorite song on the project?
It switches every now and then. Lately, I’m feeling “Buggin” because I always wanted to pull off that vibe for a song, where I’m just meandering through it and voicing my thoughts. It’s like a soliloquy. I wasn’t really able to execute that until “Buggin.”
The album came out on Gum Studio, which is gum.mp3’s label. Can you talk about y’all’s relationship? What has he meant to you over the course of your career?
Music stuff aside, that’s just the homie. I’ve known him since college; he’s easily one of my best friends ever. He would come over to my dingy little rat-infested spot in New York and be like “Yo, I wrote a comic. Do you want to do an audiobook for it?” And I’d be like fuck it. One time, we made a jazz track. It felt like some Phineas and Ferb shit. It was the purest form of creativity. Now he’s known for his dance music and for being a real culture head. He really found his thing and ran all the way with it. I’ve got nothing but respect and love for him, especially because that’s still my bestie. It meant the world to me that he wanted to champion Vessel and put it out on Gum Studio. I wasn’t even looking for that to happen. I just sent him the album and asked what he thought. He’s always respected me as an artist, but he’s really particular about what he likes. If he doesn’t like something, he’s gonna say it, and if he loves something, he’s not gonna stop talking about it. He stands ten toes on his opinions, so for him to hear Vessel and recognize it as a defining moment? I was like fuck man. Because if anybody’s seen it from the ground up, he has. He saw the first inklings of my sound, and he saw the vision. It just took a long time to get there.
That’s really sweet. What are you most proud of, looking back on the process of making Vessel?
I’m really proud that I got to perform so much of the album before it came out. When Kaz Moon took me on tour in 2024, I thought it was gonna be scary, but because the audiences didn’t know me, I could just try shit out. I was performing a song called “The City” while I was doing those shows; that was my opener. I thought it was gonna be the intro to the project, but I decided against it. I got to literally build the album brick by brick and watch it take on a life of its own. I’m also just really proud that I finished it. There’s an alternate timeline where this shit never got done, where I’m in my late 30s, and somebody goes, “Hey, remember when you were working on that album?”
[laughter from both]
That would have been embarrassing.
That would have fucking sucked. But I still feel the hunger because the fight isn’t over, I want to keep making music.
Why do you make music? Why didn’t you quit? Five years is a long time to spend making something.
I feel like I don’t have a choice. Sometimes I wonder what my life would look like if I stopped making music, and I just couldn’t tell you. It doesn’t sit right with me. I don’t think there’ll ever be a time when I don’t want to make music. Do I get distracted? Sure. Do I get lazy? Oh yeah. But there’s never been an instance where I’m like, “It’s over.” And that goes back to your spirituality question. There’s just something pushing me. I think the better question is why can’t I stop making it? And I don’t know. I really don’t know. I don’t think I could live with myself if I stopped; it feels core to my DNA.
So what’s next? What’s coming up? What are you excited about moving forward?
I’m trying to get some shows lined up, ideally starting with one in LA. I’m working on two videos right now: one for “Nothing Wrong” and one for two other songs on the album. I also have an EP for the end of the summer. I’m trying to flood it this year. I’m trying to be annoying as fuck this year.
What’s the vibe of the EP? Can you say?
I’m going for loud, and I’m going for direct. I’m trying to push myself. There’s also a lot of Vessel leftovers that I want to put out, so I’m trying to figure out what to do with those. I got a lot of cool people that I’m collaborating with, too. So yeah, just more music man. That’s it. So much music.