Features
Page: 27
Over the course of Ab-Soul’s sprawling 12-year career, the California rapper has examined numerous theologies in his quest for what he calls “the truth, if there is such.” The “Black Lipped Pastor,” as his devout followers call him, has long served as a beacon of hope for those unfulfilled with mainstream America, and it all started with his sophomore album, 2012’s Control System.
Explore
See latest videos, charts and news
See latest videos, charts and news
With its intriguing mix of bravado and philosophical parables, the album has remained so beloved among alternative rap fans that at this point it’s practically scripture for Soul’s supporters. Control System took on an identity of its own; so did Ab-Soul, who leaned further into the murky waters of conspiracy with his subsequent releases, 2014’s These Days… and 2016’s Do What Thou Wilt. The latter being so bogged down in far-flung teachings that it was hard to pinpoint where one thought ended and another began.
Then, Soulo seemed to vanish. One year off turned into six, as he disappeared down what he called a conspiracy theory “rabbit hole” that ultimately separated him from his family and friends. The immense popularity of Control System was partially to blame.
“I’ve been trying to beat Control System, and I think that’s a big part of the reason why the [new] album is called Herbert – it’s about getting back to self,” the rapper born Herbert Anthony Stevens IV tells Billboard as he chews on a Starburst inside his New York hotel room. “I was riding with one of the big homies once and he said, ‘Man you’re always playing this character like you’re Batman or something. You’re from the hood bro. Why can’t you just talk about some of that sh-t?’”
Herbert, which released on Friday (Dec. 16), is by far the most personal project Soul has ever made. Throughout the album’s 18 tracks, Soul ruminates on his family, a past suicide attempt, as well as the state of rap and his place in it. As a rapper known for having answers, he spends the majority of Herbert asking a lot of questions – on “Moonstruck,” he plainly raps, “I don’t know what to think.”
As his search for a definitive truth morphed into an addiction, Soul says that he had to come to a place of acceptance surrounding the unknown. To do this, he offered himself up as more of “an instrument” for others. DJ Premier, Sounwave, James Blake, DJ Dahi, Hit-Boy and Boi-1da all flooded him with beats, and he asked his close friends and family for help in constructing the record. He allowed the people he loved to be the foundation for what Herbert would ultimately become.
“I was asking my guys, ‘What do you want to hear me on?’ I was challenging myself in that regard,” Soul says. The process not only birthed some of Soul’s best music in a decade, it helped him let go of the steering wheel, and not get so caught up in the “absolute truth” idea.
“Look, I’m in God’s hands now. God is good all the time,” Soul says. “I’ m just keeping it like that. I’m keeping the faith.”
When I was listening back to Do What Thou Wilt versus Herbert, the first thing that struck me was how transparent and clear your songwriting has become. How did your approach to songwriting change with this album?
For me, it’s more difficult to be simple than it is to be complex. It was challenging to simplify, and I wanted it to be an easy listen, because my last album in particular was very dense and very dark also. I almost even confused myself with that one. That wasn’t an album that was an algorithm. So this time around I just wanted it to feel good first, and I just wanted to be an instrument versus have it be about what I’m saying.
At what point did Herbert and those ideas really start to come together?
So I took a year and a half off from my last album, and I went in saying, “I’m not gonna have a concept this time, I’m just gonna be pure, be open and just try to speak from within.” It was fuzzy at first, to be vulnerable, organic, but I tell everybody that once I made “Fallacy,” I felt like I was on the verge of something and that I had a direction.
“Moonshooter” also feels like a pivotal moment on the album, because you seem to come clean and say “I don’t know what to think.” This unease feels like uncharted territory for Ab-Soul. When did that start to creep in, and have you been able to come to a place of acceptance around it?
I honestly feel like it’s liberating. “A wise man knows he knows nothing.” But anyways, I found myself becoming a critic of the new artists coming in. So I kind of came to this place of, “I ain’t got no gavel, who am I to judge?” Plus just being older now, we got a lot of new young artists that are amazingly talented and skilled and are bringing new flavor to the table. It’s inspirational. I really love Kembe X, and Doechii, Reason, to name a few. Those are my guys.
Was there a moment in particular where you caught yourself being a critic?
There was literally a moment with Lil Uzi Vert early, early on. He said something about passing on a Preemo beat. I think Preemo wanted to work with him or something, and I felt a need to speak up. I obviously cleared the air with him, but that was a moment where I was like: “Hold on. He has his own sound. Who am I to speak up on any young man out there trying to make something of himself?”
Jackson Pollack was just throwing paint and he was f–king Jackson Pollack. Some thought that was ridiculous. Others thought it was genius. Like, who am I? Let me just focus and make sure I’m creating the best product I can create.
Interestingly enough, you ended up working with Preemo on “Gotta Rap.”
That was a dream come true. I always wanted that and he made me work for it. I had to do it about five or six times before he felt the frequency. I respect his craft and what he’s brought to the culture. It was an honor. Even before Ab-Soul was my name I wanted a Preemo beat. It was a milestone.
On that note, we have to talk about “Do Better.” What do you hope that record will do for the legacy of Ab-Soul?
That’s one of the most organic songs I’ve ever made. Sounwave brought me the record and I immediately was drawn to it. Like I said I was just taking production, and I wanted it to motivate. I want us to try to be better at all things. To be your best self, and that was me talking to myself. I was trying to motivate me to be better. It was a conversation with myself.
Another record that stuck out to me in that regard was “Be Like That.” The song feels like you’re experiencing rock bottom, but also seeing the light simultaneously.
Absolutely. “When it feels like hell, heaven’s around the corner.” That was the hardest record to make, and it’s so important because that’s probably the most simplified [I’ve been]. I was like, “I don’t want no metaphors in this. I don’t want no punchline. Not one simile, I just want to speak,” and that was so hard for me to do. I don’t believe in forcing anything either, so I had to get into the spirit of it.
You’ve been working extensively with Jhené Aiko for years now. Tell me about the creative dynamic you two share and what you feel she brings to your music.
I saw one time somebody asked her if she was a rapper who she’d be and she said Ab-Soul. Jhené was with us in the trenches, in the beginning. She was with us early. A beautiful voice, beautiful writer, beautiful spirit and we just clicked. Also, you know she’s a Pisces, and we have that Pisces thing. Our collaborations are so effortless.
What your relationship is to the “Black-Lipped Pastor” nickname at this point in your career?
I’m still the Pastor! I feel like it’s more suitable now and that it’s tailor-made for me. It was a little baggier back then, but I feel like I’ve grown into it now. At the time I got that nickname I was heavy into theology and getting into the root of things, and it came from asking questions and trying to get to the truth, if there is such.
Tell me more about how being labeled the “third eye guy” impacted you.
Like I said I’m trying to climb out of the rabbit hole man. Let’s stay here. Let’s stay in this realm. Let’s stay on the ground. I was focusing on the unknown and the conspiracy and listen: Learn all you can while you’re here. Knowledge is power, but stay on the ground. Stay here. I felt myself becoming disconnected from my close friends and family in a sense. My way of thinking started to become extra terrestrial. The big homies are just trying to party.
Do you still consider yourself the “Third Eye Guy?”
I’ll always be the third eye guy, and I still believe those things but now it’s a faith. You heard my thoughts on them. I’m not trying to shove these theories down your throat. Once I felt the disconnect between the people that mattered to me most, the people that I trust the most, when I started feeling a disconnect between that and my relationships, I realized something is obviously wrong with me.
You gotta keep your foundation, man. I’m big on family and love and those things. I just started to feel like I was isolating myself. I didn’t wanna hang out as much because I wasn’t interested in what was going on. They’re like, “Yo bro, where you at? Pop out!” And I was, you know, staying inside.
How has Herbert helped your process of climbing out from that rabbit hole?
Oh, I’m back outside, baby! Listen man, I live in the now. I’m living right now. I’m in the now heavy.
As a professor, Method Man isn’t calling attendance, he doesn’t care who shows up late, and he damn sure isn’t going through bullet points on a syllabus. Wearing glasses, a baby blue Versace t-shirt and a navy baseball cap with the rim to the back, Meth is sitting down, carefully but effortlessly rolling a blunt as he prepares to address the student body.
Explore
See latest videos, charts and news
See latest videos, charts and news
No, this isn’t some scene from How High. This is real life, and Method Man is the instructor tonight on a class held via Zoom called “Rhymecology.”
“The anxiety in the studio bruh, because Doc is incredible,” Meth says, giving props to his How High co-star and longtime friend Redman, when questioned by a student about collaborating. “I give credit where credit is due. That dude, he is music… The reason I said ‘anxiety’ is because you want to be at your best…. This n—a is going in the booth spitting straight ether every f—in’ day. And you gotta keep up, son. Even outside the studio, onstage. He helped my creative process so much. Big bruh molded me into the MC I am today.”
Throughout the night, Meth shares revelations, advice, tutelage and insights on everything from the genius of rap battle MCs (“The most brilliant rappers in the world — these muthaf—-s is driving the culture right now”), to being “miserable” for eight straight years making music, to constructing hooks, to his goal for his legendary hip-hop family, Wu-Tang Clan. And that is the Wu making it into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.
“I want that for my crew,” Meth declares. “We have a very strong stake in that.”
Rhymecology, dedicated to the mental health aspect in hip-hop, is just one of the courses laid out as part of the curriculum at the virtual school, Pendulum Ink Academy. At Pen Ink, one of the prime goals is “nurturing creativity through lyricism.”
Pendulum was conceived, developed and co-cultivated by Bronx wordsmith Mickey Factz, who ascended in rap during the rise of the blog era in the mid 2000s. He quickly became adept at multimedia marketing skills (Mickey’s marketing firm and indie label GFC New York had Nipsey Hussle on their roster of clients looking for help with branding), and showcased his wordplay through his freestyles, mixtapes and song collaborations, which helped him landed on the cover of XXL’s coveted Freshman Issue in 2009.
Along with his cover stars Wale, Kid Cudi, and Curren$y, Mickey was tapped to be a leader of the new school. Fast forward to 2019: Mickey was 10 years removed from being up next, and contemplating what was going to be next in his life.
“It was an epiphany moment,” Factz, sitting in his Atlanta high rise office, recalls. After a decade in the game, he felt he has reached his ceiling. “I was like, ‘I kind of feel like this a dead-end job for me right now. I’m working album to album. This doesn’t make sense to me. What am I gonna do when it’s time to retire?’ I started thinking about retirement a lot. So I was like, ‘You know what? I need to retire into teaching.’”
Mickey began researching how he could actually teach without a degree, and came to the conclusion that, sans the credentials, it was almost impossible. The rapper (born Mark Williams) had attended NYU and was a paralegal at a law firm before dropping out of school and quitting his job to focus solely on his rap career in 2007. Even if he had graduated NYU and became a lawyer like he was tracking to do, Mickey says there weren’t too many schools willing to make hip-hop an actual course in 2019 anyway.
Then the pandemic hit, and while so many of us were sequestered at home, Mickey locked his focus on MasterClass. Hip-hop icons such as Nas and Timbaland were lecturing virtually for a fee. Factz felt he found his pathway to rap retirement.
“I DMed them, ‘Yo, I would love to work with you guys,’” Factz recalls. “They hit me back a couple hours later like, ‘Yo man, don’t call us. We’ll call you.’ That was January 2021.
“I’m from the Bronx, man,” Mickey continues with a light chuckle, before revealing his found extra motivation in the wake of MasterClass’ rejection. “I said, ‘Aight. I’m gonna make my own MasterClass.’”
On Dec. 1, 2021, Mickey lectured an online class of 10 people — he was hired for $250 to speak for an hour. Factz realized that not only could he teach students, but he knew his dream could grow. “You can’t do a MasterClass of hip-hop in one class,” he explained. “It’s impossible in terms of writing.”
Factz reached out to his friend, battle rapper Chilla Jones, for help. Jones began to contact some of his associates, and soon a five-man team was formed. Together they came up with an eight-month curriculum, and Pendulum Ink Academy was created.
Along with the core brain trust of the Academy (all of whom teach classes), Pendulum boasts certified college professors on their staff, and courses like Rap Theory, where the students learn cadence and how to rhyme on beat. Rap Theory is taught by jazz musician Comikbook Cam. Meanwhile, Chilla teaches Advanced Technique: Pendulum Ink has 35 rap techniques copyrighted, and put names to skills that MCs have been displaying their entire careers.
“Some of these courses were rejected at universities,” Factz says. “Criminology in Hip-Hop was rejected by three universities. So I said to our professor Ahmariah Jackson, ’Listen, come here. I’ll pay you. Teach it once a month.’”
Pendum Ink launched last February, and Factz recalls not knowing exactly what to expect. “February 24th, we had our first person sign up,” he says. “They paid the full tuition, $2,000. Then every day after the 24th, for about 45 days, people were paying. I was like, ‘Alright, we got something here.’ And mind you, this is the beta [stage], just six courses: Rap Theory, Advanced Rap Techniques, Rhymecology, Mickey Money Class, Battle Rap, Content Creation Class.”
Soon after, Mickey signed up some of his close friends and peers to be guest teachers for these classes. “I told them I had a school and then I walked them through it, and then I asked them if they want to teach or give a lecture,” he remembers. “They said ‘Yes.’ I said, ‘Good, because I pay.’ I find it easier for them to do this than to do a record.”
Phonte from Little Brother, Masta Ace and Cory Gunz were all among his first phone calls. Fittingly, Inspectah Deck was Pendulum’s very first guest lecturer: Wu-Tang Clan’s Enter The Wu-Tang (36 Chambers) was the first album Mickey bought with his own money as a kid. “Its essential to bring back the art form, and Pendulum Ink does that,” Deck says.
“It’s a gift to receive instruction from a living legend,” says Pendulum student, Al Billups. He signed up and participated in the recent Rhymecology class with Method Man. “The opportunity to peel back the layers of a composition with the actual creator is a treat for any fan of the culture. Participating in a Pendulum Ink session exposed me to an incredible instructional ecosystem that is designed to help MC’s gain a better understanding around the nuances of lyricism.”
Pendulum Ink’s graduation is set for February 26, 2023; Bun B is confirmed as commencement speaker. Veteran hip-hop journalist Sway has also been tapped to participate in the ceremony along with Big K.R.I.T., Stalley and Skyzoo.
Pendulum Ink also just started a nonprofit organization called Pen Pals, where kids from 7 to 17 can learn how to MC. Pen Pals will also serve as space for known MCs to learn how to teach. Factz says his hope is that some of those MCs could be professors at universities one day.
“I want them to have a crash course in our lexicon,” he notes. “You can do it your own way, but structure is very important.”
One of Pen Ink’s students has been hired at Fredrick Pilot Middle School in Boston, and is teaching some of the Academy’s programs to kids ranging from 11 to 14 years old. Meanwhile, Factz himself has accepted an offer to teach at the University of Hawaii, and will teach one month at a time for the whole of March, July and November.
Pendulum Ink has also delved into the actual ink game with their very own textbook coming next year, featuring a foreword written by Big Daddy Kane. The roster of new professors coming to teach in year two of the academy is shaping up to be impressive: Big Boi, Pharoahe Monch, Rah Digga, K.R.I.T., Lord Finesse, AZ and DMC are all locked in to give lectures, while Black Thought has agreed to be the 2024 commencement speaker at the graduation.
“Ten years from now, I’ll be 50,” says Factz, “and God willing, I’ll have three [physical] schools across the country. I’ll have one in the Bronx by 2027, then one here in Atlanta and one in L.A.” The former Freshman still performs shows and puts out his music independently, but says, “I want to have schools for hip-hop and lyricism. I want to be able to create jobs and opportunities for younger students and older people to be able to make money from. It’s important that the culture remains within with us. Because let me tell you something, if I didn’t do this, somebody else not of the culture would’ve done it.”
When two of the most singular voices in music history first came together 15 years ago, it’s not surprising that alchemized harmonies and pure, uncut vibe came as a result. Upon melding their vocals on the 2007 collaborative album Raising Sand, Robert Plant and Alison Krauss translated traditional Americana into mainstream consciousness by force of personality, expanding on Krauss’ extensive repertoire within the genre and furthering the work in the sound for Plant, whose own predilection for Americana had been a benchmark of popular music since he first lamented, “I can’t quit you baby,” 53 years ago on Led Zeppelin‘s cover of Willie Dixon’s Delta blues scorcher.
Explore
See latest videos, charts and news
See latest videos, charts and news
But in a testament to Krauss and Plant’s respective popularity, as well as the delicate yet tantalizing sound they’d created, Raising Sand transcended well beyond fans of folk, bluegrass and blues, becoming a sort of blazing anomoly across popular music at large. The LP hit No. 2 on the Billboard 200 (where it spent 72 weeks), secured the pair a headlining spot at Bonnaroo, and earned them the 2009 Grammy for album of the year. “In the old days, we would have called this selling out,” Plant said in his acceptance speech, “but it’s a good way to spend a Sunday.”
Then the project went dark, disappearing in a puff of smoke as quickly as it had arrived, as Krauss returned to her longtime band Union Station and Plant worked in the studio and on the road as a solo act and with his own outfits, Band Of Joy and Sensational Shapeshifters. But just like the many listeners who considered Raising Sand a new classic, Krauss and Planet were aware the project was special, with considerations of a reunion occupying their minds during the long hiatus.
“I really wanted to get back to it. I love it,” Plant, 74, tells Billboard, calling from the United Kingdom, where he can be heard puttering around his house during what is there late afternoon.
“Harmony singing is my favorite thing to do,” Krauss, 51, dialing in from mid-morning Nashville, adds of what she and Plant do so especially well together.
So get back to it they did, with the stars realigning last year year for Raise The Roof, another collection of covers by acts as disparate as Calexico, Allen Toussaint and The Everly Brothers, all rendered in a twangy, incandescent style built around the union of Krauss and Plant’s voices. The album — which, like its predecessor, was produced by T Bone Burnett — debuted at No. 1 on the Top Rock Albums, Americana/Folk Albums and Bluegrass Albums charts, and at No. 7 on the Billboard 200. This past summer, an attendant tour included a main stage show at Glastonbury and a performance in London’s Hyde Park (“Basically we were just passing time until the Eagles came on stage,” Plant says of that opening gig), along with three dozen other dates in the U.S. and Europe.
And now, as a surprise to precisely no one, Raise The Roof has garnered some Grammy nominations — three total, for best country duo/group performance (for “Going Where The Lonely Go”), best American roots song (for “High And Lonesome”) and best Americana album. The nods add to Krauss’ mythology as the second-most-awarded woman in Grammys history (after Beyoncé) with 27 wins and 45 nominations. Meanwhile, Plant has eight wins and 18 nominations, the first of which came in 1969 when Zeppelin was up for best new artist. (They lost to Crosby, Stills and Nash.)
“The very fact that it’s has been recognized that we’ve had a good time,” Plant says of this latest round of nominations, “is more than I could imagine.”
Plant: Hello. Good afternoon.
Krauss : Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa!
Plant: Hello Alison! How are ya?
Krauss: Hey, I’m fine! How are you doing?
Plant: Okay, I think we may actually be getting into a place now here on the Welsh borders where it’s starting to get chilly. We had the longest, longest, longest beginning of an autumn, but it’s beautiful. The weather’s good. Things are good. I’m looking forward to going to have a look at this little puppy dog next week, and I’m actually living a normal life, finally.
Krauss: Wow.
Plant: I hate it.
I’m curious about this puppy!
Plant: Well, you know, when I was a kid, my mom was allergic to dog hair and stuff. We never had a fluffy pet or anything like that. So over the last so many years, I’ve always prized these beautiful running dogs. They’re a combination of Greyhound and a terrier.
And the traveling folk, the gypsies and the travelers — you always see them with them; they’re just really beautiful — they’re this kind of dog you see on all those medieval paintings and stuff. There’s always somebody standing behind the blinds with a beautiful animal.
I lost my best dog after 14 years about two or three months ago, and I said I would never have another dog, but life without a dog is difficult for me. But it’s got nothing to do with “Stairway To Heaven,” thank god!
I mean, if you don’t see a connection, there isn’t one.
Plant: No, there isn’t one there. I just had to stop talking about dogs.
Okay, let’s talk about your album then. November 19 marked the year anniversary of the release of Raise The Roof. I’m curious if your relationship to the music changed in any way over the last year, particularly as you’ve been touring it.
Plant: I think that Alison and I became — I mean, we’re partners in every sense, professionally. And we’ve shared every single element and every single part of the creation of the record from the get-go, from the song selections to creating the atmosphere, and we take it into the studio together; we use it when we’re coming up with artwork. I think we’ve just grown a lot tighter and a lot closer, and we share a lot of lighthearted humor, but at the same time I think we’re pretty, professional about how good we want it to be. Would you say so, Alison?
Krauss: I don’t think that there’s a different relationship to it. I mean, you’re always looking for things that speak to you in a truthful way, whether you’re telling someone else’s story, or you’re relaying a message or telling your own story. I don’t think that that’s changed. The fun thing was to pick this up again — like, to have something be so fun and be a total surprise, then get to come back and and get to do it again. To me, when we went back in the studio together, it was like no time had gone by, especially with T Bone. It was a lot of fun. We had some new faces in there, but the energy was very generous, which it always was. So I don’t know if there’s a different relationship to it, just happy to revisit.
Plant: We had no idea how it was going to pan out, and going back together after such a long time was, well — there was a lot riding on it. Were we still able and amenable to exchanging ideas? With material and song choices, a lot runs on how we can perform within these old songs. So yeah, it was interesting to get the ball rolling again and to blow away the cobwebs. But as I said, in that kind of oblique answer, we grew closer, if you like. We were able to take the actual songs and embellish them and develop them for a live show, which made them, I think, quite tantalizing, and there was another energy to them as well.
I saw you guys in Chicago this past June, and it seemed like the vibe onstage was often mellow, and sometimes almost contemplative. What does it feel like to perform these songs live? What mood are you in?
Plant: Well, contemplative, I don’t think so — I think it’s just the nature of the song. You weave in and out of the original form of the music as you heard it, even before you recorded it. The songs have a personality. I just think that we’re very adaptable — we just go into character and we just sing the best that we can within those character settings.
Krauss: I also think this wouldn’t be appealing to us if it wasn’t natural. So I don’t feel like there’s any headspace we have to get into. It just kind of fell into place. It was a natural friendship, and it just translated — we both have a love of history and traditional music, and all the people in the band are the same kind of historians. So it was a natural thing. It didn’t feel like we had to pump ourselves up for it, if that makes sense.
Plant: No, exactly. And I think there’s a kind of melding, a kind of a great coming together on stage, especially with the way the musicians have developed the songs with us. It’s quite a liberation. We’ve been through quite a bit in the last 12 months, with working through the United States and then into Europe. We became real rolling musicians. It was something to behold, because the group personality got more and more, I suppose, charming. And also there was sort of a little bit of a warrior feel, going from country to country to country, through Scandinavia and down into Western Europe and across even into Poland. I do believe we grew more and more into the gig.
Were you able to do things at the end of the tour that weren’t happening in the beginning?
Plant: Sure, yeah. You find a groove that works, and it’s genuine.
How do you maintain the stamina required for such a massive and far-flung tour?
Plant: I think it’s just the will, isn’t it? To want to do it.
Krauss: It helps to be fun!
Plant: Yeah. We do laugh a lot. I mean, it’s not a competitive thing. It’s just such a magnificent and unexpected surprise, to be able to be from such different worlds initially and find that we have our own world. We’ve got our own place.
I read a relatively recent article that described you two as an “odd couple,” and didn’t feel like that description was entirely accurate. How do you feel like you two fit together at this point, after this long collaboration?
Plant: I just think that we’re really, really firm friends. And we confer and listen to each other when we have options. It’s really good, because we don’t tangle. Obviously life off the road is — we’re so far away from each other that these moments of hanging out or telephone conversations, or we’ll be coming back to Nashville in April — all those sort of things is all stuff to look forward to. So we’re never around each other long enough to get tired of anything. It’s just a growing condition, really.
Krauss: Yeah, I mean, it’s a really nice cast of characters in that band, and we enjoy them, and it’s a pleasure. We were happy to get to do it and happy to be going back. It’s something we talked about putting back together for years. It was a really nice idea, and sometimes those things are just a nice idea, but this one [did some back together]. I just feel really grateful. It was a surprise, from start to finish.
Why was last year the right time to come back to the project, after releasing your first album together in 2007?
Plant: I’m not in control of my own time, I just find the momentum in a project and go with it. There’s only a particular lifespan from record to record. In the old days, that was how it worked — if you’re really buying into this as a life, which we are — then as it used to be that there was a cycle of events where you would write or create a record, and you’d follow it through with the usual rigmarole of touring and stuff like that. It always used to be something like a three-and-a-half or four-year thing, from start to finish.
So when we left Raising Sand and said a tearful farewell, we went on to do other projects. And if I’d finish something and I was really looking forward to doing something fresh, maybe Alison was in the middle of one of her projects, and that’s how it was. It was no negotiation except for with the calendar and with time. I also had been on the road a lot with with my friends Sensational Spaceshifters, and this [project with Alison] was just promising to be — offering to be — a totally different experience, or a different feel. I really wanted to get back to it. I love it.
And every night when we sing, two or three of the songs where Alison takes the lead, I always find it such an adventure to join and contribute to her personality as a lead singer. I love that. I didn’t have that for several years. So once the opportunity arose, and we were both free and ready — and free to fail actually, I think would be the term — it’s quite tenuous really to go back in after such a long time, but it worked. These are different days as far as the music biz is concerned, but they’re not different days for us. We’ve got it down, and we know what we’re doing, and we like it.
Krauss: Harmony singing is my favorite thing to do. And he is a…
Plant: Steady. Be careful.
Krauss: [laughs] He always changes in those tunes, night to night, and it keeps me on my toes. I was listening to a show we did in Red Rocks, and the differences and changes in the tunes night to night — the show sounds so good, Robert. It’s just fun, because they really evolve, and it’s a much different environment than what I grew up doing, which is very regimented harmony singing where the whole gig is perfecting it. Like, you don’t go to prom because you’re working on your harmony. This is just a totally different animal, and I just love the way the tunes have changed, even throughout this past summer.
Plant: And all I did was go to prom. I still am! Life could be a dream sh-boom! That’s what happened to me. When I used to open the show for people, you know, stars in the early and mid-60s, I used to go, “Wow, this is so exotic. It’s just amazing.” When those big old stage lights came on in the proscenium arch theater, my whole heart leapt. I couldn’t wait to get to the next place to see somebody else do the same thing. And so I didn’t study anything, except for trying to be as good as Terry Reid, or Steve Marriott, or Steve Winwood, or so many people who are extraordinary singers.
Krauss: One big prom! [laughs]
Plant: But I think that’s part of the really big thing about you and I, Alison, is that we’ve leapt into each other, and it’s given me a great departure from finding myself typecast and in being challenged, which, despite its changes from time to time within the shows, just makes for a really good ride, I think.
Krauss: It’s never dull. [laughs]
Plant: I could be sort of far too serious about myself and sit in my dressing room with a star on the door, but that’s not why I do this. I do this because I only work with people who’ve got a big heart, and this is it. So it’s never dull. But if it’s dull, I’m not sticking around anyway.
You both have many previous Grammy wins and nominations. Do these awards matter to you? Does getting nominated enhance the project itself or make it more meaningful in any way?
Plant: I’ll leave that to you, Alison.
Krauss: I just think it’s always unexpected. You don’t figure it’s going to happen, that you get nominated. Like I always say, every record you make is like the only one you’re going to.
Plant: Yeah.
Krauss: And so it’s really nice to get that acknowledgement that people have heard it and like it. It’s always a relief.
Plant: And also the idea of us being considered to be a country duet is fascinating. The thing is, a nomination is a nomination — the very fact that it’s been recognized that we’ve had a good time is more than I could imagine. I didn’t get many Grammys… so to be nominated as a country duet is out of my normal radar. It’s great. I love it, and I also know that we did a pretty good job. I learned a lot, and continue to learn, which is what I want to do. I do think that’s pretty cool.
In 2009, Raising Sand won the Grammy for album of the year. Nominated in that category this year are artists like Lizzo, Beyoncé, Coldplay. Do you feel connected to those kinds of acts, or are you more at home in the country category? What’s your relationship to mainstream pop stars?
Plant: Not a lot. [laughs] It’s different worlds, isn’t it? That’s all it is. It’s just like, do you like this, or do you only appreciate stuff that come out of the Mississippi Delta or New Orleans? We’re all musicians; we all do what we do. You have to appreciate everything from where it stands in its own world.
Is there any chance of a third album from you two?
Plant: I can’t see any reason why not. I suppose if we wait another 14 years it could be a bit dicey for me, to be honest. I might find it a little bit difficult hitting a top C. But we can say it really works well, and we enjoy each other and that’s a great thing — so it seems like a great idea.
In a fun game of “What’s Floating Inside?” Tampa rapper, Doechii’s skills and knowledge are put to the test to answer as many random questions about fashion, music and all in between in under :60 seconds. Watch it here, brought to you by Billboard and Honda.
Related Images:
When Jaylah Hickmon cultivated the moniker “Doechii,” it was formed as a way to protect her from adolescent bullying. Doechii would represent a fearless, bold, and all-around unapologetic version of the explorative sixth grader. It wasn’t like Jayla didn’t exist anymore, nor would Doechii be an alter ego, the artist clarified. Over time, the two simply became one. So, when Hickmon started middle school after the summer break, everyone was to call her Doechii – and it stuck ever since.
Explore
Explore
See latest videos, charts and news
See latest videos, charts and news
Tapping into her creativity and entrepreneurial spirit, Doechii’s self-made empire started before she found success in rap. In 2016, the passionate visionary launched her clothing line: “Stay Woke, Stay Black.” The brand, described as “a movement promoting racial equity and implementing societal enlightenment,” was a labor of love for the budding activist, who used it as a platform to marry her passion for expressiveness with a social cause important to her. In a YouTube video announcing the release of the collection, a young Doechii lights up with joy describing the threads and their homage to the diverse black community that lay at the heart of the brand. Although her time as a fashion designer wasn’t long, through the trials and tribulations of a small black-owned business, the soon-to-be wordsmith learned the importance of market research, quality control, and product improvement. These hard skills seamlessly translated into her current rising musical career.
“I can’t remember when I decided [to pursue music], but I just knew that I was supposed to be doing this and performing,” she explains. “And when that [the hoodie business] failed, and I had no money, I was like, ‘well, I’m going to make music, and that’s going to be what it is.’”
Before the world got to know Doechii’s artistry, Hickmon was figuring out who she was. Her three integral anchors were her mother, Celesia, Howard W. Blake High School, and her home city of Tampa, Florida.
Growing up in a single-parent household had its pitfalls. Money was tight. Still, Doechii’s mother wouldn’t let financial struggles stop her from fostering her daughter’s creativity. “She spent her last dime on anything I wanted to do and try. She would support me, and I saw her watch me quit so many different things and still support me,” the rapper reflects, knowing now the seeds of her mother’s love would become fruitful.
Fast-forward to 2021, Hickmon was fortunate enough to help relocate her mother from Tampa to Los Angeles, bringing her closer to the magic. And even though her mother spent years being Doechii’s cheerleader on the sidelines, she did not grasp the full complexity of her daughter’s stardom. “Now that she’s moved here, she gets it, and she comes on set and is like, ‘Girl, this is a lot!’”
For Doechii, Howard W. Blake High School was a fortress of imagination, unlocking a world of endless creativity. The rising artist beams when proudly boasting about her alma mater and the various electives and majors the school offered, from nail design to hair and stage production. Doechii always gravitated towards being on stage–taking jazz, musical theater, and vocal training classes to fill her academic schedule. Through this period of her life she developed artistic skills through friendly competition with classmates.
“Everything I know, I learned from Blake,” she explains, “[Blake] was my first exposure to real art and art ethics and what it means to be an artist.” Her fondness for the school is palpable, and she hasn’t been back to visit since graduating. When she speaks about her hypothetical return to the halls, she gleams, “I would probably cry if I went back, but it would be a good cry…I hope I make them proud.”
Undoubtedly, Tampa has left a mark on the emcee. There, she fueled her creativity by competing in talent shows, nurtured her experiences into vulnerable, relatable songwriting, produced her original songs, and even dabbled as a fashion entrepreneur. Over time, Doechii realized that she had ambitions beyond hometown success and left Tampa at 21-years-old to foster her music craft. “In my city in Tampa, there’s this mindset that holds many people back. I read that Florida is four to six years behind in fashion and music and everything because we’re at the bottom of the country.” Eager to learn the music industry and how to put on a show live – skills she found lacking back home, the young artist headed to New York with no solid plan but to be a student of the music game.
After touching down in the concrete jungle, her first order of business was a songwriter’s audition for The Voice – where she didn’t make the cut. Unable to pay for her flight back home, Doechii extends her New York adventure. This fateful turn of events would lead her to her introduction to the city’s underground music scene and ultimately down the road to success.
“I can’t remember his name, but I see his face when I close my eyes,” she recalls of her first East Coast supporter. “It’s this guy and his sister, and he introduced me to a lot of kids in the scene…and also Arty [Furtado].” Through these connections, she booked gigs and built up a budding fan base around her self-released single, “Spooky Coochie.”
Money was low and Doechii was juggling odd jobs and making music, so she couch surfed and, at times, leaned on her unemployment checks to pay for her craft. She was focused on music and refused to prepare a plan B. It was like eat or die, she jokes. “It had to work, and I was going to work. So, I wasn’t worried about it. ‘Oh I need to save for a rainy day. Like, no, it’s raining. You’re already hungry; you’re already poor. So you might as well invest in you and your music.” Her sacrifices and determination would prove to be worth it, and in the next few months, her dedication came to fruition.
Exploring and experimenting with her flow from a young age, Doechii would borrow beats from Youtube to create her first songs before connecting with producers and engineers. Of course, she jokes that this was before she realized it was unethical. Today, she considers her niche alternative hip-hop, pulling influences from Tampa’s trap/hip-hop/club music scene. Ridding herself from the stereotypical arches that define the genre, Doechii convicts, “if hip-hop is going right, I want to go left.”
In 2020, Doechii released All the Places You’ll Go EP. The five-track compilation is a medley of hip-hop, rap, pop, and R&B, and “Yucky Blucky Fruitcake” would become the most popular track. The raw and relatable lyrics about childhood identity exploration: fashion, sexuality, and finance, to name a few, quickly gained buzz on TikTok amongst the Gen Z demographic, who used the audio as a soundtrack for their physical transformation videos. Subsequently, Doechii’s cyber popularity spilled into the halls of record labels, and quickly after, the MC was on the industry’s radars.
After a series of uneventful meetings with labels that didn’t fit her mold, Doechii flew to Los Angeles to meet with Top Dawg Entertainment. “I didn’t want to sign with anybody but was praying for an all-black team in a black-owned business,” she explains. “So it was perfect. Many labels had reached out, but it was TDE for me.”
When thinking of the legacy brand and the immense pressure of being their latest big bet, she reflects, “I have to rap my ass off, and the goal is to do everything to make it easier for the next person. Like Dot, SZA, and Q, whether they know it or not, they made it easier for me. I want to do that same thing, push the limits of creativity even more, and continue to carry the legacy of TDE.”
Since her signing, the rapper has had a tremendous year.
Her TDE induction came with a feature on Isaiah Rashad’s “Wut U Sed,” later appearing alongside her labelmate during his Coachella set. Subsequently, she released “Crazy,” her superhero anthem, and “Persuasive,” a punchy club banger, both of which she performed on The Tonight Show with Jimmy Fallon in May.
“Persuasive” landed on former President Obama’s Summer 2021 Playlist. “I can’t imagine Obama just jamming my song,” she jokes. “I just don’t believe it, but if he really does – that’s crazy.”
Under her new home, she released her sophomore EP, She / Her/ Black B—h, in August 2022 – with labelmate SZA lending a melodic verse on to the remix of the already punchy “Persuasive.” When talking about the EP’s titular pronouns Doechii explains, “Some days it means something deep, and sometimes it’s just a joke – it’s funny to me. It was just a way of using humor to cope with the past slurs people used against me.”
“Stressed,” her latest buzzworthy release is a push-and-pull relationship with keeping her anxiety and vices at bay, backed by jazz notes and a myriad of percussive patterns. “[The song] is basically me divorcing all my bad habits,” says Doechii, “like alcohol abuse, drug abuse, and just like poor negative behaviors that I recently have quit, which is great.”
With a bright future ahead, Doechii is working hard on her debut studio album. While her audience is growing, the rising star hopes to continue honing in on the vulnerability of her songwriting. “I just feel like I’m making music for like one person, and I’m just meant to be myself so they can feel like it’s easier to be themselves.”
Related Images:
“Yeah hoe!” It’s the infamous tagline from 90s rap star Gangsta Boo (born Lola Mitchell), member of the Oscar award-winning group, Three 6 Mafia. Gangsta Boo joined when she was just 15 years old in 1994 and that same year, recorded her first solo record with the group, “Cheefa Da Reefa.” The track set the tone for the Memphis femcee, who later unveiled the her most well-known hit, “Where Dem Dollas At?,” in 1998.
Explore
Explore
See latest videos, charts and news
See latest videos, charts and news
Boo has gone through a number of transformations since then, renaming herself Lady Boo in 2001 and embraced Christianity, according to MTV. In 2013, Gangsta Boo joined Da Mafia 6ix before the passing of band member Lord Infamous in December of that year. In 2014, she and Da Mafia 6ix’s other femcee La Chat, recorded Witch together.
Fast forward to the present day, and you can hear Gangsta Boo on the adlibs and hook on Memphis rising star GloRilla and Atlanta’s very own Latto’s collaboration “F– The Club Up,” a play-off of Three 6 Mafia’s “Tear Da Club Up.”
The song helped Gangsta Boo become a hot topic yet again on social media, and Billboard caught up with her to discuss how she got on “FTCU,” her return to the music scene, participating in the Verzuz battle with Three 6 Mafia and Bone Thugs-N-Harmony, Lord Infamous’ impact on her, female rap and more.
Let’s start with the present day. How did you end up collaborating with Latto and GloRilla?
Well, Latto has been showing me support for a while. I always see her mentioning my name when they ask her who were some of her inspirations, and when she talked about her dad, she told me that her dad used to support a lot of female rappers and I was one of them.
So, that’s kind of how it came about. We just started following each other on the Internet and supporting each other and s—. And yeah, she hit me up last minute. She was like, “Man, I smoked a blunt and had a genius idea.”
She’s like, “The song already done, we already did the video and s— but I want you to be on the outro, the intro or some sort of adlibs.” I was like, “Of course, Latto. I got you, man.” It was simple just like that. Of course, I would’ve wanted to spit and kill on that mother — but just anytime I can contribute and support any female rapper that I like, that like me back, I’m always down for it.
What are your thoughts on GloRilla Grammy nod seeing that she’s from the same stomping grounds?
She pretty much came out the gate kind of running. They use the quote a lot. They say, “Gangsta Boo walked so a lot of people can run.” If this is a moment to say that particular quote, I would f— say it because that b—- took off full speed. And she is pretty talented. I like the way she puts her bars and s—. She’s bumping. I’ve been watching GloRilla and listening to her for a couple of years now.
There’s so much going on nowadays, I want to know, do you think female rappers can coexist with each other?
You know what I think? Okay, for example. I like what Latto is doing. I thought that was dope how she is bridging the gap. She was like, “You know what? The song is already done but f— that. I still won’t Gangsta Boo on this motherf–er.” So, it’s like not only do I have fans, she does too.
Some of her fans probably don’t listen to me or know who I am and vice versa. I think bridging the gap is pretty much all we got to do, and there is a lot of female unity that supports each other and stuff. Everybody doesn’t have to sing “Kumbaya” at the dinner table. But as long as you just show respect and keep supporting each other, whether it’s from afar or up close, I think it’ll be cool. It’s only a handful that acts petty and s—.
Like when Nas and 21 Savage got together to do “One Mic, One Gun,” that was brilliant to me because it’s like, it’s okay to work with motherf—er that came out before you that still doing their s— and that’s still popping and that that’s not on the washed up looking s—.
I think that right there, that’s where we need to normalize it and not make it so awkward. But as far as female hip-hop and rap, I think it’s in a good space. I would like to see more MCs have different types of context, and subject matter to talk about other than the sexy stuff, which I love. Because I talk my sexy s— too. But I definitely would love to see more.
What other femcees would you like to work with?
I f– with Missy Elliot. I f– with Cardi. Rapsody, I vibe with her. But I would say out of all of them, Missy would be numero uno. If I had the opportunity to be in the studio with her and to see how she creates and to vibe off her energy and have her vibe off mine, I think it’d be dope. Because she was one of my influences, using my voice as an instrument.
Sometimes if I don’t use a DJ to scratch, I’ll just make up a sound scratching. And I got that from Missy and Timbaland and s—. So, I would just love to see where she would take me. I would let her produce some s— for me.
Since we were on the topic, where do you see the new sound of Memphis headed and where would you like it to be?
Man, I love where it is. I think the Memphis sound just needs to keep growing and we just keep it as Memphis as possible. I don’t want nobody coming out of my city that sounds like they’re from New York or that sound like they’re from L.A. or it sounds like they’re from Washington or sound like they’re from Houston.
I want Memphis to stay Memphis as f—. We got a slogan that says “Memphis as f—,” and I just think that Memphis should say Memphis as f— because Memphis is the home of a lot of great musicians from Al Green to 8 Ball & MJG. I think as long as we keep Memphis the way it is, I feel like s—, it’s only room for growth and opportunities.
Because right now, we never took off like Houston did or like Atlanta did or like L.A. did or even like New York or even in Miami because we are this small place. But out of that small place comes some big motherf—ing sound, some big noise, and some big music. That’s why we call it Big Memphis.
You know Atlanta got crunk and trap, and Texas is known for the chopped and screwed-sound. What is Memphis’ unique place in hip-hop?
Memphis is the originator of crunk. That’s obvious. Shout out to my boy Lil Jon, that’s my brother. But he knows that as well. Memphis is the originator of crunk. So, Memphis sound is crunk, get buck. The Memphis sound is 8 Ball & MJG. The Memphis sound is Young Dolph. Memphis sound is Three 6 Mafia. It’s laid back, it’s player, it’s rowdy, it’s pimpish, it’s smooth, it’s jazz, it’s rhythm, it’s blues. Memphis is the home of the blues. And it comes across in our music too with the dark baseline, with the heavy baselines, the high hats. Keeping this s— Memphis.
“Cheefa Da Reefa” was the first solo song you recorded with Three 6 Mafia. But, what was the defining moment for you that said, “I made it?”
Well, right now, just still getting my recognition and my newfound accolades and when other ladies pop out, it’s always like, “Wow, this person sound like Gangsta Boo,” or, “Why is Boo’s name not mentioned enough?”
But at the same time, I still have so much work to do. I haven’t had that yet other than that like, “Damn, I’m dope as f–. People are still talking about me.”
And I haven’t even dropped a lot of music and back-to-back or a lot of content. But people still, the fans, when I search my name on Twitter, every time somebody comes out, I always see them compared to me. And that’s a form of, in my mind like, “Damn, b–. You that b–, like the blueprint, so you did make it.” But at the same time, I still feel like it’s so much opportunity for me. I’m excited about that, to be honest.
You coined the adlib, “Yeah Hoe.” Legendary. How would you describe your legacy or impact on female rap and hip-hop in general?
I would honestly say that I have to admit, respectfully and humbly, that I am the blueprint. I hear my cadence in a lot of men and female rappers. It’s hard to f– lie to myself and says, “Oh wow, she’s from New York but she raps like she’s from Memphis. Oh wow, this person is from f– wherever, but they rap like they are from Memphis.” Because I’m not talking about anybody in particular, but my sound is a Memphis sound. It’s a Gangsta Boo sound, it’s a Three 6 Mafia sound. So, I am the blueprint and I wear that badge proudly as f–.
I used to run away from it. I used to didn’t want to even give myself flowers because I’ve been so low-key and humble, but I’m on some f– that s—. It’s time to claim what’s mine. I’m one of the main b–. And it feels fun to still be able to look good and be relevant in a place where I don’t have this million-dollar machine behind me and I have all my natural body parts, no shade to the ones that don’t. But it just feels great to stand in yourself and look in the mirror and be like, “Wow, you did that.” And not sell your soul and go to bed at night with a smile on your face. Because I don’t have any pressure.
Let’s talk about your late group member, Lord Infamous. What kind of impact did Lord Infamous have on you before his passing in 2013?
S—. Lord was my brother, man. Lord, he was one of the originators of Three 6 Mafia. If I’m not mistaken, he came up with the name Three 6 Mafia with Paul. You see, Paul is Lord Infamous’ uncle. He was a big influence on how I wrote my raps and my lyrics and s—. How he put his words and how intelligent he was, the books that he read, the things that he spoke about, it’s still influential to me because he wasn’t just rapping about simple s—.
You had to be knowledgeable to even pay attention to follow what he was saying. It’s kind of hard for me to even rap simple because I don’t even know how to do it. Lord wasn’t a simple rapper. And to me, that’s what kind of motivated me to not be a simple rapper and to just go hard with my pen.
What’s your fondest memory of him?
He was very short and soft-spoken but was a big old beast and he did not take no s—. I remember I used to rap on his answering machine, and his house phone when I was younger to get him to tell Paul how good I was.
So if it wasn’t for him, I probably would not even have been able to be in the group. And for two, he also was the one that helped put the group back together when we were able to tour as the Mafia 6. When Juicy wasn’t around, it was the Mafia 6. It was me, Paul, Lord Infamous, Koopsta Knicca, Crunchy Black, and Lord Infamous who made that happen. So that’s my fondest memory of him, being able to complete a Mafia 6 project with him on it and being able to shoot a couple of videos with him in it before his passing.
Three 6 Mafia repped Memphis so well on VERZUZ. How was your VERZUZ experience overall? How did the city react?
Man, we turned the city up. They were so proud of us because that was our first time on the stage altogether, minus the ones that we lost, which were Lord Infamous and Koopsta. And Bone Thugs a group that we used to have issues with back in the day, are legendary. So, when I walked out on that f– stage and I couldn’t turn my ass around, I was like, “Oh s—, I’m on the stage and Paul and Juicy.” And I was the only girl out there until they brought out La Chat.
So, in hindsight 2020, it was surreal as f–… I just feel so blessed and just so grateful to still be making moves like that and relevant like that because you can’t be irrelevant to be paid, for one. So I’m just really, really honored that our sound is still so relevant to the point that it makes people still intrigued at what we have to say.
What is the hardest lesson you had to learn about the music industry that other young ladies who want to follow in your footsteps should know?
Man, take your time, be different, and be original. Don’t burn yourself out and don’t let people play you. I’d say don’t get lost in the sauce. Money ain’t going to have me doing something that I can’t look in the mirror and be proud of. And you don’t have to be a porn star either. Be an MC. I like that different s—. Everybody doesn’t have to have a viral moment or be trendy. Because when that trend goes away when that viral moment goes away, then what?
I heard you got a new project in the works. What’s next for Gangsta Boo?
Right now I’m just working on a project, it’s called The BooPrint and hopefully, I’m dropping that first quarter next year I’m just happy to be dropping content now. I got a song called “Sucker Free” that’s available on all platforms produced by Drumma Boy. I got a song called “I’m Fresh,” that’s available.And to be honest, girl, I’m just excited to be working with the Lattos and I’m happy to see women like GloRilla represent Memphis, so just excited…that’s motivating me to want to keep doing my music.
What a difference a year makes. In 2021, Jelly Roll played a sold-out show to just over 2,300 fans at Nashville’s revered Ryman Auditorium. This Friday (Dec. 9), the Stoney Creek Records/BMG artist is headlining the nearly 19,000-capacity Bridgestone Arena.
The moment will prove a triumphant homecoming for an artist (real name: Jason DeFord) who has gone from selling mixtapes out of his car in his hometown of Nashville suburb Antioch, and releasing over a dozen independent albums, to becoming a genre-fluid hitmaker with a No. 1 on Billboard’s Mainstream Rock Airplay chart (“Dead Man Walking”) and a Top 10 (and rising) on the Country Airplay chart (“Son of a Sinner”). While the venue’s seats will be filled with fans, backstage will be just as packed with friends and family that have supported the 37-year-old singer-songwriter for years.
“It’s so bad,” he tells Billboard with a laugh, acknowledging it’s a great problem to have. “I went to Bridgestone today with the relations manager that deals with backstage stuff, hospitality, just to look at all the dressing rooms and everywhere we can possibly put people… just to f–king figure it out how we’re gonna do this. But it’s incredible. You couldn’t write a Cinderella story cooler than this, saying that I’ll have a headlining show at Bridgestone while I have a top 10 at country radio. I look at it like it’s my introduction party to Nashville, even though I was born here.”
He promises some high-profile special guests and several surprises in the set list.
“We’ve got something for everyone. If you’re a Nashville guy who remembers when I was putting out mix tapes, I have something that will blow your mind. If you’ve just heard ‘Son of a Sinner,’ it’s gonna be great,” he says.
Jelly Roll has logged 16 weeks atop Billboard’s Emerging Artists chart — where he still sits — marking the second-longest reign on the chart, behind only NLE Choppa’s 24-week streak at the pinnacle. He hopes his success, like his music, serves as inspiration to those who are struggling.
“I think what I think I represent is just a beacon of hope,” he says. “I don’t look like the guy that you would’ve assumed would’ve made it [in the music industry]. Sam Hunt’s a really dear friend of mine, and Sam is just a big striking, handsome guy. When you see him, you’re like, ‘Oh, I get it.’ When you see me, you don’t get it initially — then you meet me, and hear the story and hear the music. I just feel like I represent the guy who looks at himself in the mirror every day and goes, ‘Yeah, guys like me don’t make it.’”
Not only will the show be his largest headlining show to date, but it will aid a good cause — one that is intensely personal for the former addict and drug dealer. Proceeds from the show will benefit the local non-profit Impact Youth Outreach, which serves at-risk, disadvantaged youth in the Nashville area. He is also donating $250,000 to Impact Youth Outreach, and plans to build a recording studio and music programs at the Davidson County Juvenile Detention Center. With Impact Youth Outreach, he is also funding Hometown Heroes Scholarships for Metro Nashville Public School seniors.
Prior to launching his music career, Jelly Roll had been in and out of the juvenile detention center since age 14. (“I spent 14-24 in trouble,” he notes.) He spoke with Billboard just before returning to the center to speak with youth in the same pod he had once been housed in.
“[It’s] where I spent the worst 18 months of my life, but it was a turning point,” he says, noting it was where he began rapping and where he had his first rap battle. “I found my real love for rapping here. I loved all music as a listener, but I didn’t think I could sing, but there was something about rhythmic rapping and poetry that I understood… there was a lot of hip-hop, but we didn’t get radios or nothing. A lot of what we heard was just rapping to each other, and that got me involved in the art form, because it was our only source of entertainment. Adult jails at least get headphones.”
“I’m passionate about this,” he says of helping people overcome their issues. “It’s not even scratching the surface of the 10-year plan we have for at-risk youth and people dealing with drug addictions in this town. I came up here on Thanksgiving Day and fed a bunch of kids. I sat with them and listened to their stories. There were kids who had been here 18 months, 20 months already. How critical an amount of time that is when you’re 15.”
He’s working with Impact Youth Outreach president Robert C. Sherill, whom Jelly Roll met over two decades ago, and who followed a parallel path to Jelly Roll’s own journey. Sherill previously spent time at a federal penitentiary before becoming a successful Nashville entrepreneur, launching a commercial cleaning company Imperial Cleaning Systems.
“This town used to be tiny. The big drug dealer in North Nashville knew the big drug dealer in South Nashville. I was in my late teens before I met a successful adult that didn’t sell drugs,” Jelly Roll says. “[Sherrill and I] met when we were kind of on our s–t, and we got through our s–t around the same time — I chased the creative arts and he traced entrepreneurship, and wanted to give back to the youth. It’s a beautiful connection — and we look cool together. It’s a skinny, really fit Black dude that hardly drinks and an overweight, fat white guy that drinks a lot. We’re kind of a TV show.”
When he takes the stage Friday at Bridgestone, Jelly Roll will perform his newest release, “She,” another unflinching look at an aspect of addiction — this time from the viewpoint of someone watching as a loved one struggles.
“I think we all know a ‘She.’ And for me, just being honest, ‘She’ was my child’s mother. And ‘She’ was my mother. I just hope someone hears this, or someone’s family member sends them this song and we can help create some change. I meet fans that tell me a lot of stories — my music helped them through addiction, or to decide not to commit suicide. I want to keep making music that helps people. That makes it worth it.”
Malibu Babie’s path to becoming a sought-after producer started when she was just five years old. Growing up in Olympia, Washington as the daughter of construction workers, the producer would record herself playing the piano and later hand the CDs out to her friends.
Explore
See latest videos, charts and news
See latest videos, charts and news
It wasn’t until her senior year of college, though, while studying political science at Vanderbilt University with the thought of going on to law school, that she decided to pursue music professionally. “I was standing in my apartment and I remember being like, ‘Man, every time I think about law school my stomach sinks,’ and all of a sudden I heard a voice in my head go, ‘Well, that’s because you’re not supposed to be a lawyer,’” recalls Malibu Babie. “You’re supposed to be a musician. You’re supposed to write songs and sing them.”
She quickly added an elective songwriting class to her schedule, for which she wrote and played an original song to the class on piano. Her professor took notice, and suggested she work as a studio intern for a company called ZMG on Music Row, in the heart of Nashville’s music and entertainment industry.
Malibu Babie — whose moniker was inspired by her blonde hair and slim physique, and who signs off emails as “Beat Barbie” — spent the next six years mastering her craft and trying to make her mark on the industry. This year, she finally did, producing two Hot 100 hits, one of which topped the chart.
And while success came fast, Malibu Babie affirms it hasn’t been easy. “Whether you’re new or whether because of your gender or whatever, people underestimate you for sure,” she says. “But I realized quickly, if I did the work and if I came into the studio and knocked the socks off of whoever was in the room…they would give me the respect of their business people.”
Nicki Minaj, “Super Freaky Girl”
Malibu Babie’s persistence and hard work led to her producing a Hot 100 hit for Nicki Minaj this year with “Super Freaky Girl,” which samples Rick James’ 1981 smash hit, “Super Freak.”
“This is a [title] I had in my manifestation journal for years,” says Malibu Babie. “I was just doing a beat day with two of my favorite-ever collaborators, and when we landed on that sample we were like, ‘Okay, this is a big sample. Like, if we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it right,’” she recalls. After several hours spent fine-tuning the beat, it ended up in the hands of LunchMoney Lewis, a close friend and collaborator. “The idea came together and gets played for Nicki, and within 24 hours, she writes the whole song.” What came next was even more surprising: Malibu Babie received a phone call of the rapper laying down a verse in real time. “I was like, ‘Holy fuck, is that Nicki’s voice?’ And then it all happened so fast.”
The No. 1 hit helped Malibu Babie become the first and only woman to debut at No. 1 on Billboard‘s Hot R&B/Hip-Hop Songs as a producer this century. And though she and Nicki have yet to meet in person, Malibu Babie says, “I’m so grateful to her.”
Megan Thee Stallion, “Her”
Nicki Minaj isn’t the only megastar for whom Malibu Babie helped score a Hot 100 hit. Also this year, the producer cooked up the beat for “Her” off Grammy award-winning Megan Thee Stallion‘s second studio album, Traumazine.
“This was the last idea of a 6-8 hour session — I usually like to call them Hail Mary ideas,” says Malibu Babie. “They’re always the best work because all the pressure’s off.” She says in this instance, she didn’t even mean to play the bassline now heard at the start of the song. “I just started adding pieces, like hi hats to get the hip-hop thing and a little house, and just kind of playing with the balance of the two and adding the slot machine for fun,” she continues.
Though she and her collaborators wrote over the beat, once it landed in Meg’s hands (they sent the demo to her team) the Houston native rewrote the whole song — while on tour. “I honestly was not sure if it would fit her vibe at all, because it was pretty different,” admits Malibu Babie, “so for that one to get placed and be successful too was like, ‘Wow, it pays to take chances.’”
Malibu SZN Vol 1 Mixtape
Now, Malibu Babie is taking a chance on herself. In November, she released her Malibu Babie SZN Vol 1 mixtape, with the viral Instagram and TikTok breakout, “Barbiegurl.” She’s teasing its upcoming music video, saying she hopes it sparks “confidence and joy. That’s all I want, to make people happy.”
She says that kind of attitude is key to her work as a producer, and she encourages all women wanting to explore and enter the field to just jump in. “Be confident in your abilities and to literally tune out all the noise,” she offers. “I’m hoping that [my own music] will inspire women to know they can be any type of way. You can be feminine, you can be masculine, you can identify however you want, dress however you want, look however you want. As long as you have the talent, that’s all that matters.”