K.o. & Eli craft summertime beats
The local hip-hop duo gets dancey and synthy
Will Bruner and Elijah Bell still crack up over the words, “Dammit, dude!”
With a history of friendly smack talk, the two musicians behind the local hip-hop/R&B duo K.o. & Eli met three years ago while working at Buckhorn Grill. This catchphrase brought them together. Bell, a server, would bring back dishes for Bruner (a.k.a. K.o.) to wash, and Bruner would always respond, in sitcom style, “Dammit, duuuuude!”
As the two class clowns of their restaurant, Bruner, now 25, and Bell, 24, decided to transfer their chemistry into music. They knew something had clicked during their first practice when they were in the zone for hours, forgetting about the outside world. That day, they wrote their first song, “Alcohol and Lipstick.” Now, it’s on their debut EP, Come Alive, set to be released on Thursday, June 23.
Before their collaboration, Bruner had been a member of the Sacramento punk band No Admission, while Bell had been in the local funk-and-blues-inspired indie trio the Bell Boys with his two brothers.
“We still have that vulnerability and that tenacity in our music but at the same time, we want to make people feel good,” Bell says.
The four songs, plus one intro track, sound like summertime distilled into dancey beats and sexy, synth-shimmering musical diaries. (When asked if the EP is autobiographical, Bell says, “Oh, he-e-ell yes!”) Bell’s wide vocal range soothes like lemonade on a triple-digit day. Meanwhile, Bruner raps with his trademark jolliness, as if he’s holding back the start of a laugh. Their emo roots show in lyrics that dish out love stories—the unrequited, annoying, confusing and fun. For example, “Alcohol and Lipstick” is about the temptress who makes you drink too much.
Inside this confessional cocktail, they blend unlikely influences, such as Dashboard Confessional, Taking Back Sunday, Logic, Death Cab for Cutie, Eminem and Incubus.
“With [Bruner], it’s a healthy balance between intellectual, very lyrical hip-hop and just kind of hype, substanceless hip-hop,” Bell says. “Rock ’n’ roll fits in somewhere in between. You can hear when he sings he has a very rock ’n’ roll voice.”
Bruner counters with his own musical description of Bell: “Brandon Boyd is like his boyfriend, basically, if he could have it that way.”
They collaborate on everything as 50-50 as possible. When one man turns down the other’s idea, he has to have a new, positive idea to replace it—bringing the improv concept of “Yes, and …” into music-making. “And then we won’t talk to each other for a day or two,” Bell jokes with a tinge of seriousness.
On the whole, they try to be there for each other. A year ago, Bruner was bummed about going to his gig as a waiter. Then, he called up Bell.
“[Bell] was like, ’You know what I do, man? I put my headphones in and listen to my own music to remind myself of what my first job is. Where I’m going, that’s just to pay bills, that’s not my main focus.’ That totally helped me,” Bruner says “Now whenever I’m walking to work, I’m listening to K.o. & Eli.”
“This is why we’re at our restaurants, busting our asses so we can put this $160 aside so we can book our next session,” Bruner continues. “It’s a very proud feeling because we’re financing everything.”
With this, he brushes the shoulders of his cutoff tank top.
“No one is doing the sound we’re trying to bring to Sac.”