In a post-genre world, Standing on the Corner sound post-post-genre—everything all at once. Released as a single, hour-long, uninterrupted piece, their recent album Red Burns blends elements of jazz, indie rock, soul, funk, and hip-hop, tossing in poetry, mock radio broadcasts, a lot of samples, and plenty of distortion. But for all of their brash newness, Standing on the Corner have a serious reverence for and understanding of the past. Their music is always rooted in something—a melody, a phrase, an old loop—that allows them to explore strange ideas while retaining a warm, homespun sense of familiarity.

The project is the creation of Brooklyn native Gio Escobar, who serves as its primary vocalist and songwriter. The 22-year-old is a recent graduate of the NYC’s New School, where he studied journalism and jazz, building up an analytical and technical foundation. Standing on the Corner started in earnest when Escobar brought some demos he was working on to producer Jasper Marsalis, who helped bring them to fruition, resulting in their delirious self-titled debut from 2016.

The two friends have lived together for the last few years, and we meet in their Crown Heights, Brooklyn apartment. Escobar is the more talkative of the two, but only slightly so. They listen when the other speaks and never interrupt each other. Marsalis is wearing white socks and sandals, while Escobar sports Timberlands. Sitting on folding camping chairs in their living room, they are at ease, cracking jokes, shooting the shit.

Marsalis says they first met at a party. “I remember disliking him,” he nudges.

“I don’t remember that,” Escobar responds, smiling.

Marsalis can’t help but egg him on. “I remember looking at you and being upset.”

“Damn.”

Loving insults aside, Marsalis describes their immediate bond as “uncanny,” and the two quickly grew close through common interests in books, movies, and music. Their living room is covered in images: There are Puerto Rican flags, a picture of the Virgin Mary, and old Mets paraphernalia from the 1980s. But the centerpiece is a poster for Melvin Van Peebles’ 1971 blaxploitation film Sweet Sweetback’s Baadasssss Song. “This movie is the essence of our friendship,” Escobar says. They’ve seen it about 20 times between the two of them, and its meaning is always mutating. They’ve made it a vital part of their vision, eagerly alluding to it in their work.