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Jul 02, 2013 By Laura Studarus Kid Koala

Eric San (better known as Kid Koala) lives above a home studio that is crammed with tools of the trade. Numerous keyboards sit side-by-side with drum machines, costumes, and sets from his forever in progress live-action comic book about a clarinet-playing mosquito. It’s a bit like stepping inside the musical equivalent of Wonka’s factory. Though he is in his late thirties, San himself hasn’t quite reached the status of the titular eccentric. Instead he reacts to his room of equipment and sprawling career with the grateful incredulity of a kid who can’t quite believe this is his playground.

San grabs a keyboard from a corner where over a dozen sit, eager to show off his impressive array of instruments.

“The invoice on this one came from Stephen King,” he says, peppering the statement with one of his hearty and frequent laughs. “It’s a Mellotron that does really creepy choir sounds. I just have this image of him taking a break from his typewriter to go play some spooky chords.”

He points to another synth.

“Are you old enough to remember Ferris Bueller’s Day Off?” he asks, “This is what he used to record the coughs, the keyboards.” I was like, ‘Wow! That machine saves coughs and samples!’ It’s really cool to actually see it in the studio now.”

San is the child of two parents who pushed him to take piano early to improve his math skills. (“I almost went into physics,” he reveals). It’s fun to imagine their pride that their unilateral decision for their young son’s life would so directly impact his future career. Proud, yes. But San admits bemused would also be another appropriate adjective.

“They’re like, ‘Why do you need so many different keyboards?’ he says, sheepishly. “I don’t. I just like them! They each have a different story.”

San counts his parent’s influence, coupled with an early teenage rebellion as his entry point into turntablism, where he quickly gained a reputation as a DJ with a flair for manipulating classic soul and R&B samples. His childhood viewing habits however, are where he found his presentation style.

“In turntables, we can do whatever we want in terms of telling this weird funny story,” he says. “But I think that’s informed by Monty Python episodes. To me, that was one of those things where they could jump around within one episode and it would still make sense.”

Possessing a gift for the absurd (he apologizes when his phone—featuring a cartoon spring ring tone—interrupts a train of thought), San adopts an announcer’s voice before continuing.

“And now for something completely different!” he declares, quoting the Monty Python slogan. “And then this foot squashes everything. Or in The Muppet Show it would be ‘Pigs in Space’ and the Swedish chef. And then frogs singing a ballad. A bear telling jokes. Kung Fu pig. That’s awesome; I want to work there! All my universes start colliding. It did come from somewhere. I didn’t just sit in Canada by myself.”

Having recently finished about a half a dozen projects, and currently at work on almost as many more, San ticks them off with the pleasure of someone recounting a brush with celebrity. There’s The Great Gatsby soundtrack, which San was asked to contribute to after Baz Luhrmann attended one of his shows in Los Angeles (“Next thing you know, you’re at Lincoln center for the premiere, sitting behind Jay-Z, watching a movie!”), scoring a runway show at Paris Fashion week, a soundtrack for his Mosquito story, a collaborative album with Los Angeles-based producer Nosaj Thing, a solo tour of Russia, an album a forthcoming album under the name of Deltron 3030 with Del the Funky Homosapien and Dan the Automator. It’s a resume, the lengths of which most artists don’t even begin to tackle.

“I’m a hack at everything!” San laughs. “I don’t really differentiate or compartmentalize. It’s all happening simultaneously. There’s an excitement. It’s like a first date. You stay on your toes. There’s a shot of adrenaline. Oh this actually works! For me, if you keep doing one thing, or one type of tour, or one type of album over and over again, you kind of go into autopilot. Something gets lost there.”

(www.facebook.com/KidKoala)