hip-hop music and culture || the fluoroscope of brooklyn hip hop: talib kweli in conversation

The Fluoroscope of Brooklyn Hip Hop: Talib Kweli in ConversationAuthor(s): James G. Spady and Talib KweliSource: Callaloo, Vol. 29, No. 3, Hip-Hop Music and Culture (Summer, 2006), pp. 993-1011Published by: The Johns Hopkins University PressStable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/4488384 .

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THE FLUOROSCOPE OF BROOKLYN HIP HOP Talib Kweli in Conversation

by James G. Spady

"I believe Hip Hop is theater ... The way we act. We create charac- ters. We tell stories. We direct. We write the script. We perform it. We do all that."

-Talib Kweli

Face to face, Talib Kweli is a theatric, philosophic Hip Hop being. If Flaubert is the

magician of language, and Larry Neal and Sonia Sanchez are word sorcerers, then Kweli is definitely the eternal reflector of Hip Hop Nation language. To state it more precisely, Talib Kweli is the fluoroscope that shows us why the Black Star hovers over Brooklyn. Green light in Park Slope. Yellow lights in Bed-Stuy. Black light flashing on and off in Flatbush. Narrow streets. Night voices turn corners as the street lights point to black- hearted black holes. Widow at midday. Bruknam at Midnight. Pagan Spain and Pastoral

Knights marching like Pastor Troy over some Brooklyn Bridge with a platoon of Universal

Souljahs of Truth. Night specter. Just when they'd given up hope, a follicle of Hip Hop foliage signals new life.

Talib: "I feel like I need to bring a balance to Hip Hop. I feel like that's what I'm gonna do, and anybody who's along those lines of thought, you're gonna hear their influences in

my work, whether it's a Marcus Garvey or a Malcolm X. I'm not trying to go back in the

past, but I'm living in the now. The future and the past is just an extension of the now!" In re-examining the brilliant artistry of the rapper, Talib Kweli, my mind rushes back once again to the Poet-Teacher-Seer, Dr. Kamau Brathwaite. He says, "In response to the entire Revolution and chiefly, perhaps, out of the need to explain to self and others what was taking place, there emerged the creative critics: Lewis, Wynter, Rohlehr, Maxwell, and Best, who are no longer concerned with colonial despair, with our having 'nothing,' our 'exile,' but with a total roots-directed (re)definition of ourselves an aesthetic: word, act, vision, value system." Is that not what Talib Kweli offers us in Quality, Black Star and Eternal Reflection?

On The Move From Park Slope to Flatbush

Talib Kweli is the son of college professors Dr. Perry Greene and Dr. Brenda H. Greene. Born in the upper-middle-class Park Slope section of Brooklyn, he early evinced an interest

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in his rich and diverse Pan African cultural heritage. He recalls, "I grew up near Prospect Park in Brooklyn, New York. Played a lot of baseball. That's what my childhood was about, baseball. I wasn't into music. First part of my childhood, I was in a neighborhood that was very integrated. Lots of Puerto Rican kids, Dominican kids, White kids, Black kids. It's called Park Slope in Brooklyn. Then when I was in junior high school, I moved to a West Indian neighborhood, Flatbush." Turning to a discussion of his parents, Kweli says, "I think all Black people in the country are Africanized to a certain extent. I think we still have things that stay with us from our heritage, certain values and ideas. I think my parents ... I definitely think they tapped into it, that's why they gave me my name."

After giving him his name (Talib = truth-seeker) and habitation (Brooklyn), it was left to this young, inquisitive Black man to learn how to navigate those mean, super-activated, and alluring streets of urban America. This is a new day for a new people. Gone is the world his mother and father grew up in. Just as his father was a Bopman (an initiate of Max Roach's, Dizzy Gillespie's, Charlie Parker's and Thelonius Monk's bebop world), Talib is a product of the Hip Hop Cultural Revolution.

The Narrative Power of Slick Rick

At the very moment Talib became more immersed in the social, political, and cultural world around him, his Hip Hop consciousness took shape. He describes it like this: "I started being interested in the social scene. Before that I was listening to the music my parents were listening to. Then I started being interested in hanging out and going to the parties. They were all listening to Hip Hop and coming up with dance routines and everything. I started being involved in all of that. That was my introduction as far as girls go. Al B. Sure was most popular. Popular groups at that time included: EPMD, Slick Rick, Eric B & Rakim, Public Enemy, De La Soul. That's not very old school right there. With Slick Rick, it was his narrative power that was so appealing."

Rapper AZ describes the Flatbush section of Brooklyn with these words: "That was when Jamaicans made they mark in the U.S. of A. They were putting their thing down. There was a lot of weed smoking. There was a whole lot of things in the air, man." H.

Samy Alim has Talib Kweli's rhyme partner, Mos Def describing the Brooklyn he and Kweli grew up in as thus:

"I grew up in everywhere. But I grew up in Bed-Stuy. And I grew up with just people loving where they came from, like 'Bed Stuyvesant'. Brooklyn was fanatical with it, to a degree. Like, you can go partying and they'll be like, 'Where Brooklyn at?'and it could be silent, but they would just sound like, 'What!?!!?!' Brooklyn just always had that reputation ... I love Brooklyn. I mean I just love my hometown. And not just because I'm from it, but I really love it. It's just home. There was a time in New York history when Brooklyn used to be farmland, you know. But it still has that spirit about it. Like small town neighborhoods. People know each other. People are very loyal to their neighborhood. You know, it's like there's history there. There' s a lot of love in Brooklyn."

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#7 on Musiq. Soulwyld. Talib Kweli still moving. Brooklyn to Philly. Like his Brooklyn confrere, Jay Z, Talib Kweli is feeling REEL / Realadelphia. Lovers of the real. That real love L.L. sings about on "Big Mama." Unconditional love. Salmon and grits love. Park

Slope and Flatbush. Nkiru Educational Center. Just Blaze. Brooklyn Bridge. Live 'Em Up on 1-95. They don't want that Philly Drama. 90 miles and 10 seconds from the Freeway. Reeladelphia. Talib's tour bus pulls up in front of the Theatre of the Living Arts on South Street. Memories. Motions. Motives. City of True Playas from the Himalayas. Brooklyn Boyz step off the bus with caution. Reminds me of Lee Morgan rolling up in The Blue Coronet Jazz Club at Fulton and Bedford Avenue in the 1960's or Beanie Sigel going to

Marcy Projects in the 1990s. State P to B.C. Grinding from 10 to 10 in a city where they snatch the dishes out of your kitchen, Mannnnnnnnnnnnn!!!

Indigenous Home/Field Work in the Streets of Philly

This little light of mine. Shyne. The Fluoroscope of Brooklyn Hip Hop discourse is about to arrive. We can see clearly now. It's a rainy Monday night. Talib gets off the bus and walks rapidly out of the rain into the theatre. He's on a mission. Inside the venue, the crowd stands, waiting for him to arrive. We are on historic South Street. Popular songs have been written about this celebrated Philadelphia street. When Al B. Sure, Marla Gibbs, James Avery, Angela Winbush, Todd Bridges, Ernest Harding, Jr., and others came to Philly to perform in the play "Forbidden Fruit," the first place they wanted to see was South Street. Philadelphia novelist William Gardner Smith's novel South Street was published decades ago. In more recent years, David Bradley penned a book bearing the name. We are in the old African American community where W.E.B. DuBois did his classic socio-

logical study, The Philadelphia Negro, over 100 years ago. Dizzy Gillespie used to live five blocks from where Talib is performing this Monday night. So near, yet so far away. This is a highly gentrified neighborhood. Black families were uprooted in order to "develop" this community and create a "safe place for whites who fled the city years ago in the white

flight." Twenty-first century, South Street reminds you of New York's Village/Soho area with its restaurants, clubs, record stores and art galleries.

KWELI: Me and Hi-Tek were a group from the time that I met him. Hi-Tek produced my first single for me. He produced 70% of the Black Star album. We were a group before Black Star. It's just that people were more interested in what me and Mos Def was doing, and we ran with that. That gave me and Hi-Tek a platform.

SPADY: Is that how it initially happened?

KWELI: I met Mos Def when I was fourteen and we just hung out. He was doing his

thing, and I was doing my thing. I met Hi-Tek and we started Reflection Eternal. We did a demo. I gave it to Mos Def. He heard it, liked it. I asked him to be on our first single "Fortified Live." And of course there is the still underground classic single on Lyricist

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Lounge, Volume 1, "Manifesto." We put that out with Rawkus. He put out his single with Rawkus. Hi-Tek's from Cincinnati. Mos and me lived in Brooklyn. So, we performed a lot together. The Black Star album came out of that. The plan was for me to do a Reflec- tion Eternal album with Hi-Tek and Mos Def would do his solo album. But we said, "You know what, let's do a Black Star album to generate interest in both of us, then go and do separate albums."

SPADY: So, "Reflection Eternal" was a title you had ...

KWELI: For years. I mean, songs like "Four Women" and "Africa Dreams" were already in my head. "Knowledge of Self" had already been recorded. That was already my demo.

SPADY: So this album was already in process?

KWELI: Yeah!

SPADY: What do you feel gives this album its staying power? It has already become a classic.

KWELI: The fact that he sounds different than a New York cat, the fact that his sound transcends genres or regions. It's just good music. He kept me grounded in a lot of ways. I'd do a song and he'd be like, "You killing 'em. You hitting them too hard. Make your verse shorter."

SPADY: What do you mean, the length of the verse?

KWELI: Length of verses, subject matter, everything.

SPADY: One normally thinks of the lyricist working in isolation prior to laying down the track in the studio.

KWELI: No, I mean it was tense with me and Hi-Tek. I mean, it was creative tension. There are songs on that album that he hates. I mean that song with G. Rap-as much as I respect Kool G. Rap-that was never really my favorite song. That was his favorite song. That's his favorite song on the album. "Africa Dreams," he couldn't stand that song. He didn't wanna have nothing to do with it. But that's what makes the album dope, that tension.

SPADY: How did "Africa Dreams" come about?

KWELI: I always wanted to do a song where I traced the path of black music. It went from how we started with just the drums and voice, to where the horn came in representing blues and jazz, to where the beat came in like funk, then I started rapping, and the DJ scratching at the end of the record. And that's what the record is supposed to be like.

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SPADY: Evolution!

KWELI: Yeah, of our music. So Hi-Tek had this beat with that guitar loop in it and I was like, "What you doing with that?" He says, "Nothing." And I'm like, "Will you let me

get that, on the real?" He says, "What you gonna do with it?" "I wanna make a song." So, he let me get it and I had Weldon Irvine-who just passed, God bless him, I just did his memorial-help me arrange it. I had him come in. He listened to it. I told him what I wanted to do. He's the one who got the horn player for me. Weldon played keys on it. We

got five drummers playing on it at the same time. Me and Weldon put it together and I

played it for Hi-Tek and he was like, "Ah, I'm not feeling it." That's not what he would've done with it, but that's why I had to do it.

SPADY: So, essentially, the creative tension worked very favorably. Was there a downside to it?

KWELI: Yeah, 'cause it's hard on the relationship.

SPADY: Why?

KWELI: Well when two people are different and they're put in a situation where they are living together and they are with each other every day ...

SPADY: You mean time-wise?

KWELI: Not even time-wise. I mean, before we got a record deal, Hi-Tek stayed at my house. When I went to work, he would watch my kids and I would take the Greyhound bus to Atlanta-not to mention that long bus ride to Cincinnati-and this and that. We would carry DAT [Digital Audio Tape] machines. We would carry turntables and beat machines. You know, after three or four years of that constantly, it wears down on the relationship. It's like being in a relationship with someone. It's like sometimes you need space in order to appreciate another person's contribution to the relationship.

SPADY: Was it different with Mos Def?

KWELI: Yeah, because me and Mos Def think exactly alike when it comes to music. So, it'd be like, "Hey, let's do that. Let's do it. Go!" Me and Hi-Tek be like, "I don't know. Maybe we should try..." You know?

SPADY: You initially met Mos Def when you were fourteen years old and later you hooked back up in college, right?

KWELI: Mos was going out with this girl who was a roommate of the girl who was man-

aging me. So, I used to be at the house. When he'd come over, I'd say, "Dante, what's up?

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How you doing?" It was an acquaintance sort of thing. That's how he came back into my life. I knew him already.

SPADY: What led you brothers to say, "Let's do this Black Star thang?"

KWELI: We were performing together a lot. We both had singles out on Rawkus around the same time.

SPADY: So the label brought you together.

KWELI: No, It wasn't the label that brought us together. It's just that we both had these

songs. Lyricist Lounge had a big part to do with it. It was Company Flow, Rah Digga, Natural Resources, Mos Def, and Talib Kweli. Me and Mos had a song together. Mos would

always go last and I would always go right before Mos. I'd do my set. I'd do "Fortified Live." He'd come on with me and do "Fortified Live" and then he'd do his set. That's how we did all the shows. So, people started enjoying the energy of us together. I started being like, if I had a show, "You coming?" He'd show up at all of my shows and I'd show up at all of his shows. Then it was like, "Yo, we should do a group together." Around the same time, I was talking to Jarrett at the label about how to promote the album. I was telling him how much I enjoyed working with Mos. We already had the name. We said, "Maybe we should call it 'Black Star'." He said, "You know what, you guys should do something together. We should put out an EP of you guys together." I said, "You know what, we should do a Black Star EP, me and Mos Def." He said, "Yeah!" They gave us $30,000 and we went to L.A. where Mos was working with "NYPD Blue." He flew me, Jay-Waltz, Hi-Tek, and my man Rick out to Los Angeles. We all stayed in his hotel room. We used

my friend Kenny's father's studio. He let us use it for like $20 an hour. We came up with "Brown Skin Lady," "Definition," "Re:Definition," "Knowledge of Self," and "Children's

Story" in a week. We came back to Rawkus and played it for them. They gave us more

money to do more songs.

SPADY: $30,000 wasn't going to allow you to do very much at all was it?

KWELI: It didn't do shit, to be honest with you.

SPADY: Why did you accept such a low amount?

KWELI: Because I didn't know any better. It was like, here I am working at a bookstore

making a thousand dollars a month and here are these white boys like, "We'll give you $30,000 to record an album." It sounded great. Fine. Give me the money! Let's go! It wasn't until I got a manager that I realized that was crazy. The Black Star budget went directly from Rawkus to my bank account. I wrote the contracts on my computer. I drafted all the contracts for Vidal, Common, everybody. I wrote contracts for the producers. I called the

producers and I booked the studio time.

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SPADY: Why did you do all of that? How did you learn the game?

KWELI: Because I thought that was what rappers did. It wasn't any "learning" to do. I mean, it wasn't even like that. It was a no-brainer. I mean, they gave me money. We need to go in the studio. Call Funk and Slice. How much? Give them the money. Keep the

receipts. That's what I did. I paid for the flights. We had to fly around. Everything. We recorded the whole album for $70,000.

SPADY: That's impossible, man.

KWELI: It's possible! I did it. I did it. And it shouldn't cost any more than that to record an album. It's just that the music industry is so inflated, so bloated.

SPADY: That's about 12% of what one normally would need to record an album, on

average.

KWELI: Of what I just spent recording my new album. This is why I had to check myself. 'Cause I'm like, "Yo, I recorded the Black Star album for $70,000 myself, with no help from the record label, with no A&R department, no nothing." Nobody was making any phone calls for me or nothing. I had a challenge. I was angry with myself. I said, "Damn, I spent $700,000 recording an album with a recording company that has a full staff." Everyone has their hand out and that's what it is. It's about everyone having their hands out. The record

company is imploding itself. But you don't need to spend that much. The same way I'm

saying you don't need to spend that $700,000 on the video. You don't need to do it.

SPADY: I want you to contrast your experiences working at two very distinct bookstores. Shakespeare is down in the Village and Nkiru over the bridge in Bruknam [Brooklyn].

KWELI: [laughs knowingly]

SPADY: Why are you laughing before I finish the question? How did you first get into Shakespeare of all places?

KWELI: I was going to the Tisch School for the Arts studying Experimental Theatre. Shake-

speare was right across the street and I needed a job. After class, I went across the street and I was like, "I need a job." The only job I would accept was working at a bookstore or at a music store. I don't want no other type of job. So, I went to Tower Books and I went to Shakespeare. Shakespeare hired me. It was shitty. They paid me $4.20 an hour. I worked from 5 to midnight everyday. And then from midnight to 5 in the morning I would be working with Funkmaster Flex and Jessica Rosenbaum at The Tunnel.

SPADY: What were you doing with Funkmaster Flex?

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KWELI: Handing out flyers. I had to go to the club and put up posters. Let's say Domino was performing tonight. I would put up the Domino poster. I had to carry Funkmaster Flex's records and Kid Capri's records.

SPADY: So that was a part-time job.

KWELI: Yeah, but that took over.

SPADY: Did you meet Leothyl?

KWELI: No, I never met Leothy. Ever.

SPADY: Oh, she had already passed by that time?

KWELI: Yeah.

SPADY: Who was running the store at the time you worked there?

KWELI: Her mother, Eileen. I grew up in that neighborhood so I knew about the store.

SPADY: You had gone there before?

KWELI: I'd gone there before. When I was in high school, my sophomore year, I went to an Ice Cube concert. There was a kid in the front row named James Sheffield who all last year worked for me at the bookstore. At that point, he was the first one at the Ice Cube concert. So, me and him started talking. I'm like, "Yeah, I go to school up here in Connecticut. I'm from Brooklyn." He said, "I'm from Brooklyn, too." I said, "What part?" He said, "Park

Slope." I said, "I'm from Park Slope, too." He said, "Yeah, I worked in Nkiru Bookstore." That was the first time I had ever heard of it. I ended up hiring him. That's crazy.

SPADY: Were there any rhymers on the street you grew up on in Brooklyn?

KWELI: No. No. No. No. Not in Park Slope. We left Park Slope. We left Park Slope when I was about ten. We moved to Flatbush.

SPADY: Where in Flatbush?

KWELI: Avenue K. There was a kid directly around the corner on 48th Street named Adrian Noel. His rhyme name was MC Pure Skillz.

SPADY: Did he have skills?

KWELI: No! He was serious about it, though.

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SPADY: What do you mean, serious about it?

KWELI: He wanted to be a rapper. I already was writing poetry and plays and stuff like that. I started writing rhymes and giving them to him. He liked it. He's like, "I'm gonna use it." So I thought, "I can do that myself."

SPADY: Why did you choose to make Experimental Theatre your focus?

KWELI: When I was in high school, my favorite thing to do was acting. I was writing plays and I eventually took over the dramatic program. By the time I was ready to go to college, my decision was unless I go to NYU, I'm not going to college.

SPADY: Why? You wanted to be in New York?

KWELI: I had to be in New York. I couldn't get into Yale. I knew I couldn't get into Ivy League. Couldn't get into Columbia and I wasn't going to a state university.

SPADY: Why?

KWELI: At that point, I just might as well get a job. Most state universities prepare you to get a job. I'm like, "Either I'm going to Columbia or NYU." I didn't think I was going to get into Columbia.

SPADY: Did you try?

KWELI: No, I just applied to NYU. Everybody was so mad at me. Everybody wanted me to apply to seven or eight schools-my parents, my guidance counselor. I was like, "I'm

applying to NYU and that's it. I ain't applying to no other schools." And I got in.

SPADY: NYU enabled you to be around all the clubs, too.

KWELI: I used to hang out in the village and NYU's in the village. It was a no-brainer. That's where I was going. I wasn't going no place else.

SPADY: Were there teachers who proved helpful to you?

KWELI: I don't know remember any. I was partying when I was at NYU.

SPADY: Were there other rappers there at the time?

KWELI: John Forte was my roommate. Cee Knowledge of Digable Planets used to be in our dorm all the time. He lives in Philly now.

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SPADY: Did you and John discuss lyrics?

KWELI: He produced my first demo. That's my first rap partner. We were very close, like very. We might as well have been a group. We never called ourselves a group.

SPADY: But you functioned that way.

KWELI: Before I was always with Mos, I was always with John Forte.

SPADY: So he was your first rhyming partner?

KWELI: No, he was not my first rhyming partner. There were those kids that I was in

high school with.

SPADY: Do you remember who they were?

KWELI: Yeah, my man Free from Bed-Stuy. They got a group called "Do or Live." They do very well independently. They are very well respected on the underground scene in New York. That was my first group, them dudes. And Free from "Do or Live" went to

Philippa Schuyler Junior High School with John Forte.

SPADY: Were there class differences between private-schooled/ prep-school rappers and those who didn't go to those schools?

KWELI: The private school thing doesn't come up until people ask me where I went to

high school. I learned a lot about white society by going to private school. I learned how to position myself. I learned how a black person could get into the system and be suc- cessful.

SPADY: What three steps are important to the process?

KWELI: Don't blame others for your problems. Don't ever look for the "Hook-up" 'cause it doesn't exist. Make sure that you acknowledge, at all times, your history, your ancestors, where you come from and what you are responsible for, what people have done, how people fought, struggled, and died to get you to where you are.

SPADY: What was the biggest adjustment for you going from Brooklyn Tech to Cheshire

Academy in Connecticut?

KWELI: The faces. I lived in a neighborhood in Brooklyn called Park Slope. It's a very mixed neighborhood, as you know-whites, blacks, latinos, everybody. I'd been around white people, but just to be around mostly white people with that kind of attitude-there was a different kind of attitude at Cheshire than the white kids in Brooklyn-that was the biggest change. And then just seeing how racism worked in different ways.

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SPADY: One-to-one or institutional?

KWELI: Institutional. I notice you have the XXL article. In the first paragraph, they talk about this meeting I had with the Headmaster when I got caught selling weed and ev-

erything. That was racism in play.

SPADY: Why is that racism?

KWELI: Because they kept me there. I watched other kids sell drugs there, white kids, and they got kicked out. That was strict policy. They didn't mess around with that. When I got caught selling drugs, they didn't kick me out. They didn't kick me out because I was black. Now that's racism. I won't say "reverse racism" because I believe that's a misnomer. I don't think that that's a real concept. I think it's rooted in a real feeling, but I think that's the wrong term for it. It wasn't reverse racism. It was racism that actually kept me in that school.

SPADY: Is it your sense that had you not been black you would have been thrown out for the first offense?

KWELI: I would have been thrown out. Yeah. Selling drugs, it was in the book. If you get caught selling drugs you were kicked out.

SPADY: Why did you risk doing it if you knew that was on the book?

KWELI: Ah! In my stupid teenage brain, it made sense. Selling weed, whatever. Everybody smoked weed, so...

SPADY: There was a demand and you became the supplier?

KWELI: To tell you the truth, now that I think back on it and I think about the fact that they could have kicked me out, I didn't even think about it as a possibility. Maybe it's because I knew in the back of my head they couldn't kick me out. Maybe I knew that.

SPADY: Talib, what does it mean to be a student of truth?

KWELI: That's a good name to live up to. I can't be no crackhead with this name. I think it is our nature to look for knowledge and to want to learn. I think it's beaten out of us when we go to school, especially in America. I can't speak for other countries. In the American school system, the love of learning is beat out of you.

SPADY: Why do you say it is beaten out of you?

KWELI: Because the focus of the American school system is to create people that will allow the society to go on the way it is going on so the rich will stay rich and the poor will stay

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poor. You can't have people with ideas. You can't have people thinking that society is to go on like that, especially in the public school system. It's different in the private school system, because they have more resources and sometimes can work a little bit harder. They keep the status quo the way it is. People can't have too much information. The school system is based on memorization. What we learn in school, from elementary through college, is how to get along in society. Not how to learn and do for self ... I went through my little rebellious stage when I was a teenager. When I was a teenager at Brooklyn Tech, drinking forties and cutting school, I was still on the train reading The Autobiography of Malcolm X. I never lost my love for my culture. That was never an issue.

SPADY: What are the three or four biggest challenges you face as a member of the Hip Hop Generation?

KWELI: How to be a part of the Hip Hop Generation and use the values that come with

being a part of this generation to elevate your life and make it relevant so you are not just like, "I live and die for Hip Hop," but you don't have a job. And Hip Hop is very powerful. It can motivate you to go and do something good for your community or it can keep you stuck in one place. It's dangerous and it's powerful.

SPADY: We talked at the Hip Hop Summit in New York in 2001.2 What is your sense of the value of that and other Hip Hop Summits? How do they impact the labels that you guys deal with?

KWELI: I don't think it will impact the labels. They don't care about anything but making money. They could care less.

SPADY: Can't artists have an impact on their own destiny with record labels?

KWELI: If the artists would organize and unite.

SPADY: As a trade union or a loose federation?

KWELI: I don't think we have to start a union. I mean, yes, I do think we have to start a union, but I don't think that's the only way that we can influence labels. What I've found in my experience is that fans get it, the artists get it, the industry don't get it. You know what I'm saying? I had to check myself. I was doing my thing and getting more popular. I'd run into other rappers that may be doing gangsta rap or not doing the same type of rhymes I'm doing and I just assumed they didn't know who I was. They come up to me like, "Yo, I like your shit."

SPADY: Why did you assume that they didn't know or like what you were doing?

KWELI: Because I allowed the industry ... I allowed the industry to define my perception of what an artist is. Like, they would say, "You are an underground artist. You don't make

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radio records. That is what gangsta rappers do. Gangsta is pop. This is a pop record. This is this type of Hip Hop artist. That is that type of artist."

SPADY: Do you have to listen to this, Talib?

KWELI: Well, you do when you're trying to make a record. You're in the studio and you have someone who is spending their money and they're in your ear and you realize that if your record doesn't get on the radio, you may not have a record next year. You think about all that and you get caught up.

SPADY: So you were touring with Hi-Tek from place to place and meeting a wide range of rappers, including so-called "gangsta rappers," "street conscious rappers," and "African- centered rappers." Was that helpful in crashing the rose-colored blinders?

KWELI: That definitely helped. I mean, I was anxious to go into the studio and work on another record. When I go into the studio, I wanna make a record that people are going to feel. I want to make a record that celebrates. The truest part and the best way to do that is to be honest with yourself. The moment that you make records for the radio, or you make records for even the fans, is when you fall off. Fans will tell you, "I want you to make a certain type of record." Nah, don't ever listen to that. You make a record for a fan, you've fell off. Fans appreciate you making a record for yourself and being honest with yourself. That's what they relate to. They don't relate to you trying to make records for them because

they can sniff it out. That just seems crazy. That's why when you hear somebody making a record that's obviously a radio record, you like, "Whatever." You feel more comfortable if they just make a record for themselves and they'd be feeling it more.

SPADY: What about the global market? You've performed in Japan, Africa, and elsewhere. Where did you perform in Africa?

KWELI: South Africa.

SPADY: How would you characterize that experience?

KWELI: They're deep into Hip Hop. I was in Durban, Johannesburg, and Capetown.

SPADY: Was that a special tour?

KWELI: It was a "Black August" tour. The South African experience was different from any others.

SPADY: How? Didn't you get on a Cuban tour?

KWELI: Yeah.

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SPADY: Contrast the two. How were they different and how were they similar?

KWELI: The similarity is that they are both dirt-poor.

SPADY: How did seeing and experiencing that affect you as an artist, as a brother?

KWELI: It was incredible!

SPADY: But you were paid your regular fee as an artist weren't you?

KWELI: No. Those were benefit concerts. I couldn't do that. In Europe, I'm trying to get paid. Cuba, we went to Cuba with the Malcolm X Grassroots Movement. They were a little bit more flexible.

SPADY: Were you mainly in Havana?

KWELI: Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. We didn't have any money. We did these benefit concerts. The kids knew our stuff and that did it. They knew our stuff and they were into "conscious rap" more than anything.

SPADY: Did they tell you this?

KWELI: Yeah, if you read articles on Cuba in these magazines and you see pictures, you still see kids with "Black Star" shirts on and Ecko shirts. We gave out a bunch of shirts. Cuba, because it is cut off from the rest of the world, had a very strong Hip Hop community that existed by itself. They almost didn't give us props when we performed. They were like, "Whatever. We do that, too." They were very proud of Hip Hop culturally. Cubans were very proud of themselves and loved Hip Hop.

SPADY: Were there any real good rhymers that you heard in Cuba?

KWELI: Yeah. It's based in traditional Cuban music. In South Africa, the kids didn't have shoes, but they had copies of my album, which made me feel kinda ambivalent. It made me feel more responsibility.

SPADY: What were they asking you when they met you?

KWELI: They were asking me how was my son, Imani-personal questions-how is Hi- Tek doing? What's up with Mos Def?

SPADY: That experience must have been an eye-opener for you.

KWELI: Yeah.

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SPADY: What aesthetic differences were there and what were your expectations before

visiting the continent?

KWELI: I didn't really hear too much South African Hip Hop. I heard Kwaito. I love it. Most of the South African Hip Hop I heard was an imitation of American Hip Hop. Cuba was different. There wasn't a lot of imitative Hip Hop. It was Cuban Hip Hop. South African MCs wanted to sound like Americans, unless they were Kwaito or something traditional. Paris, France has great French Hip Hop. London had a different problem. London, you had a lot MCs trying to imitate the United States.

SPADY: But you have done collaborations with artists in London.

KWELI: Yeah, I did The Creators album [The Weight]. I did two songs on that.

SPADY: How did that come about?

KWELI: It was before the Black Star album came out. I was on tour, opening for Company Flow. They came to the show and said they wanted us to be on this album. Me and Mos Def drove for an hour to Simon's attic, his mother's attic. We recorded two songs, but then four years later those songs came out.

SPADY: Did you feel they were dated?

KWELI: Yeah, I did. Definitely.

SPADY: Was it really four years before it came out?

KWELI: I did those songs in '97 and they came out in 2000.

SPADY: Three years.

KWELI: Yeah, three years.

SPADY: Do you intend to do other collaborations with international musicians?

KWELI: I mean, as long as the music is good, the vibe is right, and the money is right, I'll collaborate.

SPADY: Why the name "Black Star?" Why was that name chosen?

KWELI: Mos came up with that name. He was talking about a cosmic phenomena he read about, and he thought it would be a great name for the group. But when he said it to me, I'm like, "Yeah, yeah. Marcus Garvey." He was like, "Well yeah, that, too."

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SPADY: So he wasn't talking about Garvey at first?

KWELI: Nah, the Garvey part was more mine. Mos said, "Yeah, it could be Black Star Line, too." So, it became sort of multidimensional.

SPADY: What is the importance of Marcus Garvey to Brooklyn?

KWELI: To Brooklyn? We got a lot of Jamaicans in Brooklyn.

SPADY: Do you know about the history of the Universal Negro Improvement Association and African Communities League in Brooklyn?

KWELI: I don't know about the history of the U.N.I.A. in Brooklyn. I do know that Garvey went a bunch of places-Booklyn, Detroit, Alabama.

SPADY: Brooklyn was the second chapter established by the U.N.I.A., after Harlem.

KWELI: I do know that in New York, in general, he had a lot of support.

SPADY: You have knowledge of a lot of black history. How often do you get the oppor- tunity to go to high schools and share this knowledge with students?

KWELI: When I was working at home just recording the album, I did it all the time.

Somebody would ask, I'd do it. When I'm promoting the album, there is not a lot of time for that.

SPADY: When you are not on tour, but at home, what happens during a day in the life of Talib Kweli?

KWELI: I wake up. I go out for breakfast somewhere, plan out my day, do my day, and go to sleep. When I'm on tour, I spend a lot of time sleeping because I need to. I wake up, eat something and figure when I can get back to sleep.

SPADY: When do you rehearse?

KWELI: We rehearse for three weeks before the tour starts and then the show becomes the actual rehearsal.

SPADY: How important are sound checks for you?

KWELI: It's important. I mean, it's a priority. If it's something that can be done without me, okay. But if I can be here for it, I need to do it.

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SPADY: Looking back over all the songs you've done over the years, about how many compositions have you done?

KWELI: About 200.

SPADY: Are they all preserved in notepads in their original form? What format do they appear in-in a pad or on disk?

KWELI: Records.

SPADY: How about your compositions that have not been recorded?

KWELI: I don't really have it like that. I have rhyme books from before I started making records.

SPADY: And you didn't keep them after you began making records?

KWELI: Once I started making records I stopped using rhyme books, I guess.

SPADY: Explain how the rhyme book functioned for you. Was it like a practice work- book?

KWELI: Yeah. Before I had a record deal, I was trying to get a record deal. So, all my free time that I had was focused on what I'm going to do when I get in the industry. It was all focused on rap. Like today, I woke up in the morning and called the pressing plant to see if my records got pressed up. I called Rawkus to make sure that the tour bus is com-

ing here on time-this and that. My day is filled up. Before I had a record deal, my day wasn't filled up with any of that. So, I'd wake up in the morning and be like, "I need to write a rhyme."

SPADY: What time of day do you write rhymes?

KWELI: I mean, whenever. I don't have a set time or schedule. I write when I feel it. I had a lot of more time to think about it before I had a deal. If I had a beat, I'd feel something like this and I'd write a song. Now, I don't have time to think about that 'cause I'm actu-

ally doing it. So, it's much harder to keep a rhyme book. Like, I've bought rhyme books. I start a project. I buy a book. Actually, I just finished recording. I got most of them written in a book, but I don't even think about it like that.

SPADY: As a writer, I'm interested in the mechanics. I'm asking how you write these great songs. The creative process is an interesting phenomenon.

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KWELI: The MCs I like to put myself in a category with include anybody from Jay-Z to Mos Def, Black Thought to Common.

SPADY: Are you talking about lyrics or delivery?

KWELI: I'm talking about emceeing.

SPADY: Overall?

KWELI: Yeah.

SPADY: Let's start with Jay-Z and go to Common. Contrast them.

KWELI: Okay, we can do that. The only reason I even put them all in the same category, in the same box, is because they do something that is interesting. All of those MCs write in their heads. They write in their head. Mos. Jay-Z. Common don't even use paper any- more. They come up with it in their head. They write in they head and then they just go in the booth and spit it, which makes it come out more natural. I can do it, but in order for me to do it, I have to write it, record it to the beat, listen to it for a couple days, then go in and redo it. They're not doing that. They're writing it in their heads, not even dealing with the paper. So, they are skipping the part of paper.

SPADY: Let's contrast Black Thought, Common and Jay-Z with two criteria in mind:

lyrical content and delivery.

KWELI: As far as lyrical content and delivery, those people I've named are the best MCs, but the best MCs for different reasons. As far as the live show, as far as the actual art of mastering the ceremony, they don't get better than Tariq [aka Black Thought of The

ROOTS]-Tariq, Mos Def and Common, but Tariq, 'cause he's on the road more than

anybody. So, it don't get better than Tariq. As far as mastering the entire game of Hip Hop, it don't get better than Jay-Z. As far as lyrical content, I don't have issues with Jay- Z's lyrics. I think he's a responsible lyricist. I think the people who have issues with him

maybe have heard singles, but they don't listen to the albums. As far as taking it to a new level, branching out, and bringing things in, it don't get better than Mos. As far as being free and not really caring a fuck about what people think and doing what you feel, being introspective, it don't get better than Common. Common is the freest MC I know. He will

say and wear and do anything he wants. Andre 3000 and Cee-Lo, too. Those are like the free MCs. They really are going to do anything, regardless.

SPADY: When you wrote the lines for "The Truth," you exhibited considerable skill and

range as a lyricist. How did those lyrics come about?

KWELI: You mean "The Truth" with Pharoahe Monch?

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SPADY: Yes, how did it come about?

KWELI: I was in my house. Pharoahe's manager at the time, Rene, called me and said, "Pharoahe is on his last day recording his album. He's in the studio. He would like to do a song with you and Common. He got the beat already. Can you do it?" I said, "Okay." I took a cab over to the studio, listened to the beat, and wrote the lyrics for about an hour.

SPADY: In the studio?

KWELI: Yeah.

SPADY: What was the organizing motif for you in that verse?

KWELI: As an MC, it is easier when someone gives you a subject matter to be concise, direct, and on the point. Sometimes, I start to write a song, but I don't even know what I want to say. Do I want to prove how nice an MC I am? Do I want to write about girls? Do I want to write something about parties 'cause that is really what it is right now? That's what everybody is on right now. Pharoahe was like, "Listen, this song is called 'The Truth.' I want you to write about the truth." That is why I was able to write it so quick. He gave me all the setup. He gave me the whole context. So, I had to write what is the truth to me. And that is exactly what I wrote.

SPADY: Were all three of you in the studio at the same time? What was the nature of the

chemistry in the studio at that time?

KWELI: We were trying to get the song done before he ran out of studio time. It was pres- sure. That particular session was like, "Do you think we can knock out one more song for the album today? Let's go for it."

NOTES

1. Leothy Miller Owens was the owner of the Nkiru Bookstore. 2. Talib Kweli became the face of the New York Hip Hop Summit, in part, because of Def Jam's and

Phat Farm's Russell Simmons referral of media people to Talib throughout the three-day summit.

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hip-hop music and culture || the fluoroscope of brooklyn hip hop: talib kweli in conversation

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