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How Pop Smoke Shaped New York's Drill Rap Scene Well Into The Afterlife

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The late rapper carved a new lane in hip-hop, and the moves he made in just a short time will continue to breed new talent for years to come
Kathy Iandoli
GRAMMYs
Sep 26, 2020 - 7:02 am

The New York City street rap infrastructure was arguably locked in place for decades, but when the rapper known as Pop Smoke arrived, he shook the pavement. The artist born Bashar Barakah Jackson was raised in the Canarsie section of Brooklyn, New York, and cultivated the next iteration of city-wide street rap until his untimely death on February 19, 2020 at the age of 20. The scene he developed in New York City is known as Drill by many regions, though Pop’s take was arguably far different.

Drill started in Chicago, popularized in the early 2010's once the city earned the unfortunate title of the nation’s crime capital. Artists like Chief Keef hand-delivered that sound to the masses, and by its gritty design it was a clear reflection of what was happening within the Chicago streets. It was barely palpable, hard-hitting to the point where the sound was “drilled” into your brain. Full of pauses and stops, the style sounded more like secret messaging for a select few than something that would live on the radio for universal consumption. It migrated over to the U.K. around 2016, where it became a country cousin to the British Grime scene. Acts like 814 and Zone 2 had their own spin on what Chicago started. There was a similar pause effect, but what the Brits did was lean on their cadence and warbled grime production to really take the sound into another dimension. By the time Pop Smoke brought the sound back Stateside—and more specifically to New York City—he added his own necessary ingredients.

"Pop was born in 1999, so he grew up in an era of hip-hop that had a big impact on him. And he loved R&B—artists like Anita Baker helped shape him as an artist," says founder of Victor Victor Worldwide, Steven Victor, who signed Pop Smoke and added him to his roster through his joint venture with Republic Records/Universal Music Group. "For him, it was more about putting his community on the map: to lift up Canarsie, Brooklyn and give them a voice on a global stage. His vision was to make music that resonated with people all over the world."

In 2019, Pop Smoke’s name started buzzing. He collaborated with English producer 808Melo, known as a pioneer of the U.K. Drill scene. Together, they were a force. "We elevated and changed the game with my unique sounds and Pop Smoke’s deep voice,” 808Melo expresses, “alongside his flow on top of my beats.” Pop Smoke had a roar to his voice that hadn’t rumbled within hip-hop since the days of 50 Cent, Busta Rhymes and DMX. His voice was clearly distinctive, plus he fluidly adapted to the U.K.’s style of Drill, delivering ricocheting bars over slow-stuttering beats. The world’s first real introduction to Pop Smoke was on the song "Welcome To The Party" in April of 2019, where it quickly became the anthem for that New York Summer.

He followed with his debut mixtape Meet The Woo, armed with the buzz single “Dior.” The song “Dior” encapsulated the fierce movement that Pop Smoke was building. “'Dior' really put Drill on the map for New York, making it mainstream,” 808Melo recalls, “so we knew instantly this would become the new wave of music.” The sound was arguably reinventing the wheel for New York’s take on Drill Music. It had the gangster appeal of Chicago’s Drill—as New York City’s gang culture was thriving and returning further into hip-hop’s purview—mixed with the U.K. flair. The final ingredient was that Brooklyn swagger, the same swagger that made the Notorious B.I.G. and Jay-Z household names. The same swagger that shouted hunger and opulence with every line spit. The same swagger that commanded being decked in a designer wardrobe on project street corners. It was Pop Smoke’s birthright to embody all of that and more, and he was determined to make that combination the new voice of the streets. And while Brooklyn rap was slowly being seeped in gang culture, Pop was trying to be the antithesis of that, while still crafting hymns that hugged the streets. “He was never looking for a specific sound,” 808Melo explains, “but if it was fire, he would rock with it and go crazy bringing the vibes to the studio.” The world began to take notice.

“Dior” hit the Billboard Hot 100 at Number 22. In February of 2020, just two weeks before his death, he released Meet The Woo 2, which debuted at No. 7 on the Billboard 200. “Dior” was subsequently released as an official single a week after release, with a remix featuring Gunna added as a bonus track on the project. And then just as he was getting started, he was murdered in Los Angeles.

His debut studio album, Shoot For The Stars, Aim For The Moon was posthumously released on July 3, 2020, skyrocketing to the top of the Billboard 200, while simultaneously reaching the No. 1 spot on charts across the entire world. The song “Mood Swings” with Lil Tjay fanned the flames, as it became a TikTok darling and only elevated Pop Smoke’s reach. While some may attribute that to the law of attraction following a musician’s death, given Pop Smoke’s already established momentum, this success was a part of his destiny—whether on this planet or otherwise.  

In Pop Smoke’s absence, his presence is felt. The new crop of New York City rappers taking over have at one point or another read Pop Smoke’s playbook. Artists like Fivio Foreign and Bizzy Banks are carrying that torch, slowly moving up the ranks within hip-hop. What Pop Smoke did was carve a new lane, and the moves he made within a year’s time will continue to breed new talent for years to come. “He left a blueprint in the rap game, a whole new style, making new rappers or well-known stars jump on the wave," Melo says. Adds Victor: "He said, many times, that he made music for the kids—to inspire them to dream big and that their dreams could become reality no matter what their circumstance. He showed them what was possible; his legacy is his humanity."

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Hosts of NPR's "Louder Than A Riot": Rodney Carmichael (L) and Sidney Madden (R)

Hosts of NPR's "Louder Than A Riot": Rodney Carmichael (L) and Sidney Madden (R)

Photo: NPR's Christian Cody and Joshua Kissi

 
 
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Rhyme & Punishment: How NPR's "Louder Than A Riot" Podcast Traces The Interconnected Rise Of Hip-Hop And Mass Incarceration

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Co-hosts Rodney Carmichael and Sidney Madden break down how "Louder Than A Riot" explores the wide-spanning issue of mass incarceration through the lens of hip-hop music and culture, as told by the artists, journalists and executives who lived it
John Ochoa
GRAMMYs
Oct 11, 2020 - 12:51 pm

Here's a big theory: The dramatic surge in mass incarceration in the U.S. is intertwined with the explosive rise of hip-hop music and culture. 

Here's an even bigger theory, this one falling closer to the conspiracy sorts: Record labels, which allegedly have investments in the private prison system, purposely market criminal behavior via rap music to increase the prison population and, in turn, boost their profits.

The latter conspiracy theory has been circulating around hip-hop circles and the wider music industry for nearly a decade. In 2012, at the height of the hip-hop blog era, someone wrote an anonymous letter describing a "secret meeting" in which executives from the industrial prison complex and the music industry discussed the aforementioned symbiotic relationship. The letter exploded on the internet, sparking heated debates around the validity of the note itself as well as the underlying trigger warnings contained within it. 

Whether the letter is real or not and whether that "secret meeting" ever happened, the conspiracy theory revealed a lot about the fear and paranoia surrounding the many ways the U.S. criminal justice system disproportionately impacts Black Americans and people of color, NPR Music staff writer Rodney Carmichael explains in the debut episode of "Louder Than A Riot." 

"There was just a lot of online debates about whether the meeting that was described [in the letter] was real, whether the impact that it was laying out had manifested and registered," Carmichael tells GRAMMY.com in a recent interview. "Now, in terms of where I stand on it, I'd really rather leave that to the episode. We use the letter to reveal a lot of things … But I really want people to be able to check out the episode to get a better sense of where we stand on it, and not only us, but the culture [as well]."

Launched this week (Oct. 8), "Louder Than A Riot," the first narrative podcast series from NPR Music, explores the wide-spanning issue of mass incarceration through the lens of hip-hop music and culture, as told by the artists, journalists, legal experts, activists and music industry executives who've experienced the hyperincarceration phenomenon and were directly impacted by the criminal justice system. 

Each week, the limited-series podcast will dissect a different aspect of the criminal justice system—the probation and parole system in the U.S., the growing power of prosecutors and plea deals, the practice of RICO laws on street gangs—and its wider, often detrimental, effects on Black America and other communities of color. 

"Louder Than A Riot" continues a long-running conversation that the hip-hop community at large has been chronicling for decades, from the reality rap and social commentary within Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five's 1982 hood anthem "The Message" to The Source magazine's "Hip-Hop Behind Bars" 2004 cover story to Kendrick Lamar's eye-opening performance at the 2016 GRAMMYs.

"We just have to remember that hip-hop has been rapping about this stuff for 40 years," Carmichael says. "This is not a new conversation for the culture. This is not a new conversation within the genre. Hip-hop has been being dismissed by people in power for 40 years … To me, the answer to the question, 'What's louder than a riot?' It's actually hip-hop."

"Louder Than A Riot" co-host Sidney Madden, a reporter and editor for NPR Music, hopes the show will lead to real-life change.

"Our greatest impact would be to put something out that creates cultural conversations that can lead to cultural shifting, that can lead to societal shifting, that can be ... one of those things that's put into the world that wakes people up to things that they've had the luxury to be asleep on," she tells GRAMMY.com. "My biggest aspiration for creating this body of work and presenting it to listeners is that it's going to have people challenge themselves, complicate questions about their role in the whole thing, and start a lot more conversations that can lead to shifts in society."

GRAMMY.com spoke to "Louder Than A Riot" co-hosts Rodney Carmichael and Sidney Madden about the show's expansive look into the sociopolitical issues within hip-hop culture, rap's long-running and contentious relationship with the criminal justice system and the artists and rappers continuing the conversation today.

This interview has been edited for clarity and brevity.

"Louder Than A Riot" examines a very big idea: the interconnected rise of hip-hop and mass incarceration. That's a heavy theory that is perhaps not obvious to many everyday music listeners and hip-hop heads. Can you tell me about how you got to this theory in the first place?

Rodney Carmichael: Well, I think it's important first to recognize the fact that this is not the first time that this intersection has been explored. [The] Source magazine did a few classic annual issues back in the early 2000s ... Hip-Hop Behind Bars [in 2004] .. where they really explored what felt like was becoming a really big deal. Obviously, the criminal justice system disproportionately impacts Black America and other communities of color [like] Brown America. With hip-hop coming from those communities, it's just a reflection of that inequality. It's always been in the music. It's always been something that the culture, I think, has recognized in terms of the injustice built into the systems and the systemic inequality.

I don't necessarily think the connection is new. I think there hasn't been enough conversation about how, in some ways, there feels like there's this interrelated thing going on between the two of them at times. That was part of it ... kind of recognizing that this has always been something that's talked about. I think mass incarceration—we're not the first to say it—is really one of the biggest, most pressing civil rights issues of our time. It's gotten to a point now where it's a bipartisan issue: criminal justice reform. 

People on the right and the left, sometimes for different reasons, have coalesced around this issue and [are] realizing that a lot of the really tough-on-crime policies that were prevalent during the Drug War era and afterwards, through the '80s and '90s, got us to this point where we incarcerate more people [at] a higher percentage of our population than any other nation on the planet. It's a problem, and it's been impacting us the most, and hip-hop has been talking about it the most. So why not explore those two?

Sydney Madden: It's funny because now it's considered a bipartisan issue to be against mass incarceration without trying to take any responsibility as to how we got here. So many policies that were enacted in the '80s and '90s are really showing that boom in population, and the chickens are coming home to roost. But the whole time, way before there was any sociological study or political pundit trying to advocate for these things, hip-hop was pushing back. You can see it through the lineage of the lyrics. You see it through a lot of artists who talked about it, whether it'd be in interviews or artists that went through cases themselves, whether it be 2Pac or Shyne or Beanie Sigel, Lil Wayne, Lil' Kim, Gucci [Mane]. I mean, even now like JT from the City Girls, Bobby Shmurda, Tay-K.

It's so funny because I can rattle off all these names. They seem like different cases, but none of these cases happen in a vacuum. The topic does seem a little bit sprawling when you first hear about it, but that's the thing about the podcast that we're going to take you through. We're going to take you through the timeline of how these numbers in America and for the population surpassed a million and ballooned to even 2 million [prisoners] now and 4.5 million people living on parole. And then, how at the same time, hip-hop became the most dominant, most consumed, most commercialized and profitable genre while it was still pushing back at all of these things at its core. [The podcast is] really about the parallel rise between two American phenomenons, and then how they connect with each other.

We take you through that timeline in the show, and then we break down real-world cases for you throughout history to give you a real proof of concept the whole way through. So it does seem a little bit overwhelming, but then every subsequent episode of the podcast is going to become more and more clear that the [criminology] in hip-hop is really a microcosm of the criminalization of Black America as a whole.

Let's jump off that. The podcast traces a few key moments in American history that contributed to the rise in the prison population and also coincided with the rise of hip-hop. For example, the first episode dives into the War on Drugs during the Reagan era, which, as you report, affected incarceration rates. How far back and how current does the podcast travel? What are some other key moments or developments that the podcast examines?

Madden: The podcast really does start with a lot of the roots of sociopolitical critique that hip-hop has always been about. We start with "The Message" [from Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five] in '82 and Reagan's re-imagining of the War on Drugs. Then we go through the '90s. And then, when we start to deep-dive into cases is really at the turn of the century. Every case that we explore has a specific theme, but it also gives you the specific time marker of where hip-hop is at in the marketplace and where it's shifting and growing into its own ...

And then, we take you through a lot of cases every decade. We get really contemporary with it at the end. The final episodes, which are going to be airing after this [2020 presidential] election is over, it's going to be very contemporary in [terms of] talking about the fight for reforms right now and the fight for abolition right now. We try to do a lot of time traveling with you, but not too much that you get whiplash.

So it's not going to feel like a college course.

Madden: It is not. It's not "Hip-Hop 101." It's not "Crime and Punishment in America." It's history and context and contemporary cultural takes all in one. That's the secret sauce of it all.

Carmichael: We try to cover 30-40 years in [the first] episode. It's probably our least narrative episode, but almost all the other episodes are going to be narrative. We're going to be telling stories about a specific person who has been impacted by this interconnected rise, and who's been caught in the crosshairs of the criminal justice system. It's not going to feel academic at all. These are stories. We know that hip-hop loves stories. It's a genre full of storytellers. So we're trying to connect these big, broad issues and communicate them in a way that the culture eats.

Madden: Absolutely. Rooted in culture. Rooted in reality. Pretty much all the cases that we dive into, we have artists at the center of it; we have interviews with them. We have interviews with all the connected players, from people on the industry side, the people in their management camp, their marketing people, their friends growing up. A lot of rappers' parents make appearances in this show as well as people on the law enforcement side. So you can get a full picture of not retrying an artist for a specific case, but really the larger sociopolitical umbrella that all of these things happen under.

The podcast opens with a story about an anonymously written letter that describes an imagined scene in a supposed "secret meeting" in which executives from the industrial prison complex and the music industry meet to discuss how the marketing of rap music could promote criminal behavior and in turn increase the prison population, which would ultimately boost profits for the prison system and its record label investors. There's a whole conspiracy theory about this. When was the first time you heard about this conspiracy theory? And where does each of you stand in regard to the validity of this "secret meeting"?

Carmichael: I think I heard about it pretty much at the time that this anonymously written letter first hit the internet, which was 2012 … There was just a lot of online debates about whether the meeting that was described [in the letter] was real, whether the impact that it was laying out had manifested and registered. It was a really interesting debate that I think, in a lot of ways, captured a lot of the angst that certain generations of the culture were going through at the time. Hip-hop was evolving, and everybody didn't necessarily like the way it had changed from the golden era to where we were at that point.

Now, in terms of where I stand on it, I'd really rather leave that to the episode. We use the letter to reveal a lot of things. But this is also an age that we're currently in where there's a lot of weight put into and onto conspiracy theories … Us being journalists, we wanted to make sure that we treated this conspiracy theory in the most journalistically sound way; I think we ultimately do. But I really want people to be able to check out the episode to get a better sense of where we stand on it, and not only us, but the culture [as well].

Madden: I'll definitely echo what Rodney is saying. I want listeners to hear what our take is and the culture's take is in the episode. But in terms of actually learning about the letter itself ... I didn't learn about it immediately ...I want to say I found out about it a year or two after, but it's because somebody was having a debate about it …

It was a bit mind-blowing, but also like, "Hmmm, I could see that. That's right on the money." … This is the time of Kendrick [Lamar's] Section.80 and good kid, m.A.A.d city. This is the time of [Meek Mill's] Dreams and Nightmares or Big K.R.I.T.'s Live From the Underground. There were so many things already happening in the music and the lyrics that legitimized this connection.

Rodney, at the end of the debut episode, you borrow a part of a Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. quote in which you say, "If a riot 'is the language of the unheard' … then rap is the definitive soundtrack." What's the significance of the show's title, "Louder Than a Riot"?

Carmichael: We wanted to pick a name that spoke to this wake-up call that 2020 has become. But also, it really connected with [how], just historically, the fact that hip-hop has always been a voice for the voiceless. That quote just came to mind because it's interesting to see now how protests and things of this nature, which have always been politicized, but in this current age are continuing to be politicized in a way ...

I think the key is that as America seems, in a lot of ways, to have awakened to a lot of the inequality that was exposed this summer in terms of the George Floyd protests and the Breonna [Taylor] protests, we just have to remember that hip-hop has been rapping about this stuff for 40 years. This is not a new conversation for the culture. This is not a new conversation within the genre. Hip-hop has been being dismissed by people in power for 40 years. True, it makes a lot of money now, and it's evolved in terms of how much it's been accepted within mainstream America. But in terms of this politicization, it's always been something that has been disregarded and dismissed by those in power. To me, the answer to the question, "What's louder than a riot?" It's actually hip-hop.

Read: Want To Support Protesters And Black Lives Matter Groups? Here's How

Speaking of which, "Louder Than a Riot" drops during a very critical time in American politics and culture. You have nationwide protests advocating for racial justice and denouncing police brutality. You have the major label complex and the wider music industry reanalyzing its exploitative history and relationship with Black music and Black creators, specifically. What is the significance of "Louder Than a Riot" dropping amidst all of this turmoil and ongoing demands for change? What sort of impact do you think the podcast can make amidst or contribute to this wider cultural conversation?

Madden: We've thought about this a lot. I think one thing that people might not know right off the bat listening [to the podcast] is that this has been something that we've been developing as music journalists ... it's been years leading up to this. But in earnest, we've been developing and reporting and researching this topic for the last two years. The fact that the drop of this show was colliding with this moment in history, it just reinforces our thesis so much more, and it gives me a renewed sense of guidance and purpose ... A lot of what America is waking up to right now and is being forced to face and grapple with right now, hip-hop's been telling y'all.

There are so many moments, whether it's a rally cry, a protest chant or policy change—you're going to hear the seeds of that in hip-hop the farther back you go. That's what we're doing with people. We're showing you where the seeds of this whole movement came from, contextualizing it in a way that is urgent but also digestible and malleable. 

I often think about who we're making this podcast for, and so much of it is people who've been in tune with it, but also people who just had the luxury to enjoy hip-hop without ever feeling challenged by it. And it's like, no—hip-hop is challenging all the things that are not great in America for Black people. Hip-hop is rebelling against that, and hip-hop is showing resilience against that …

In terms of impact, I would say everyone has a different metric of success. But I would say, our greatest impact would be to put something out that creates cultural conversations that can lead to cultural shifting, that can lead to societal shifting, that can be ... one of those things that's put into the world that wakes people up to things that they've had the luxury to be asleep on ... My biggest aspiration for creating this body of work and presenting it to listeners is that it's going to have people challenge themselves, complicate questions about their role in the whole thing, and start a lot more conversations that can lead to shifts in society.

Ultimately, what does the podcast set out to do or what are the questions the podcast aims to answer?

Carmichael: If you're a hip-hop fan or especially if you come from the community that hip-hop originated in, we already understand that mass incarceration and the criminal justice system hit us harder than any other community in this country. That's one thing to just have that general knowledge or that general understanding. But to really get into the weeds of the system and understand how it works and how it goes about disproportionately impacting us is another thing.

With each story that we're telling, we get to focus on or highlight a different aspect of the criminal justice system that an artist is being impacted by, whether it's the probation and parole system in this country, whether it's the power of prosecutors and plea deals and getting into the nitty-gritty of why some 90-plus percent of criminal cases end in plea deals and don't go to trial and how that impacts the turnout of these cases, the sentencing, et cetera, et cetera … 

Each spot along the way, it's just a really revealing, eye-opening thing to really be able to allow people to have a better understanding of how the criminal justice system works, and usually not in our favor.

Who are some rappers and artists continuing this conversation and analyzing these issues in their music?

Madden: For me, I've been a Kendrick fan since day one ... He was like a prophet in some ways. And it's so great because he's getting inspired while he's alive because he's one of the best [artists] we got. Killer Mike is another one who's always been on time with it, whether he was speaking in an interview or dropping so much knowledge in a single verse that it kind of makes your head spin. 

From the younger generation, I think a lot of people don't give Vince Staples enough credit because maybe he's a bit snarky, but he gives you so much focus riddled with commentary, and he breaks it down for you in a way that never adds that, "I'm going to explain what I already said," type of thing. Noname out of Chicago. She's 'bout it, 'bout it a hundred percent in her lyrics and also in her intent and in her activation. Her starting the Noname Book Club as a force for learning … I think those type of actions and those types of motives are what's going to push us forward and propel this conversation way beyond the series' 10 episodes. Some of the people I named just now for you are actually featured in the series.

Read: Fight The Power: 11 Powerful Protest Songs Advocating For Racial Justice

Carmichael: I just want to say: All rap is political to me. It's interesting. You hear a lot of conversation today about the fact that hip-hop is not as political as it used to be. "Where are the Public Enemys?" and whatnot. But I'm from Atlanta, and trap, which really originated here, is one of the most political art forms that I think has emerged out of hip-hop and out of Black America. Hip-hop, I think, nowadays and rap in general and trap, to be more specific—its political point of view is more about giving you a version of reality that we as a country often are not willing to look at or not willing to deal with. It's very much a political point of view. 

When we think of a lot of the marginalization that is happening in this country—[for example], Atlanta, for many years running, has been the income inequality capital; the gap between the haves and the have-nots is wider here than anywhere else. That's reflected in music that is giving a voice that wouldn't otherwise have a voice. The irony is that Atlanta is also considered the Black Mecca, and it's considered to be a place where Black folks, especially, have more and better opportunity to succeed and achieve than anywhere else in the country.

And the truth is that both of those things are true. A lot of Black folk do not fit into that narrative here. A lot of Black folk have been historically overlooked here if they aren't in the middle class. What could be more political than them being able to have a platform to express their woes, their frustrations, their hopes, their dreams, and all of that? I think just because it doesn't meet the moral code that America professes to go by, it doesn't mean anything, especially if they've been left out of the moral concerns of America.

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Sonic Spotlight: Hip-Hop And R&B Hitmakers Highlight The Human Element To Hits

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The Recording Academy Producers & Engineers Wing's recent live discussion featured some of today's hottest studio pros on the making of top hip-hop and R&B hits
Keith Nelson Jr
GRAMMYs
Oct 8, 2020 - 5:34 pm

A great song is more an arrangement of human relationships than sounds. For the creators on the control room side of the glass, knowing your way around Pro Tools and an SSL mixing board is only part of what goes into making a hit – it comes down to people.

On Sept. 24, the Recording Academy's Producers & Engineers Wing hosted a live webinar with a group top engineers and producers who have helped shape some of the biggest recent hits across hip-hop and R&B. During the discussion, which was moderated by multi-talented producer, engineer and singer-songwriter Ebonie Smith, Hit-Boy (Travis Scott’s “SICKO MODE”), MixedByAli (Kendrick Lamar’s “HUMBLE”), Chris Dennis (Roddy Ricch’s “The Box”), DJ K.i.D. (DaBaby’s “INTRO”), and Marcella Araica (Timbaland’s “The Way I Are”) discussed the balance between human and technical requisite in making hits.

Before Araica was a seasoned music industry vet, she was an assistant at Miami’s Hit Factory Studio in 2002 surprisingly tasked one day with engineering a Missy Elliott session only two years removed from graduating from Full Sail University. Araica revealed in the discussion she was not experienced enough with Pro Tools to keep up with Missy’s speed of working and was subsequently kicked out of the session. From that moment on, Araica made sure she became more skilled at Pro Tools and ready for the next opportunity when it came. But the computer aside, there was a more human element she learned to hone from working with Missy and Timbaland.

“On the engineering side, just really learning how to use my ears. It wasn’t just about hitting the computer and hitting buttons, that was one aspect of it. Really understanding, ‘What was I trying to accomplish in sound,’” Araica said.

Araica’s prioritizing of serving the song and the session beyond just operating the equipment is a piece of advice every participant echoed. There are thousands of engineers and producers in the world, but these accomplished panelists agree the ones who can make the artist’s studio experience the easiest on a human level are the ones that end up sticking around. That may include cleaning up the studio before the artist gets there or getting the artist tea if their voice is raspy.  “It’s not only [about] being an engineer. It’s easy to record and hit command + space bar. It’s also about being there for them on a personal level making sure they’re taken care of; making sure the vibe is right; doing whatever you have to do to make sure they’re in their right mindset to make the best music possible,” Dennis said.

Behind The Board: Marcella Araica

Still, a producer’s primary way of standing out is their work. Unless fans read the credits or an artist is willing to keep the producer’s tag in the beat, the architects of the sound can get lost in the final project. Ali spoke on the importance of engineers and producers developing what he calls their “sonic thumbprint.” “You have to sit up and spend countless hours developing and curating the sound with them. At that point, you create the sonic thumbprint. I speak about the ‘sonic thumbprint’ because that’s how you separate yourself from the herd of people,” Ali said.

He advises engineers to stay an extra few hours in the studio after mixing a record for an artist to do an additional mix with all the tricks that show the unique creativity they can bring to the table. The extra time may be unpaid, but the connection with the artist could grow more inextricable. “Invest in an artist early. Invest in time of getting with them early and creating a sound together because when they blow up, they’re going to need that sound throughout their career,” Ali added.

DaBaby’s hit-making producer/engineer DJ K.i.D. is a testament to that advice. K.i.D. helped DaBaby get a Top 15 Billboard Hot 100 hit by transforming NSYNC's 1998 rendition of "O Holy Night" with booming 808 drums for the song “INTRO” from DaBaby’s KIRK album. He credits the extensive time spent working with DaBaby for understanding his sound enough to know how to expand it.  “I was the dude that loved pop music and wanted to put 808s on pop instead of just straight trap music. He helped me step into the trap lane," K.i.D said. "Then, on the road as his engineer, it was like, 'Ok, you need to speed stuff up.' So, working with such a great artist helped me turn into a better engineer.”

Sometimes as a producer or engineer, the most human approach to success in music is to listen to the people over your own ego. Hit-Boy burst onto the scene in 2011 producing the six-times platinum megahit “Ni**as In Paris” from Kanye West and Jay-Z. If he only trusted the depth of his technical talents and not the ears of others, he may not have recognized the hit on his hands.

“Once I caught my first big rap hit, which was ‘Ni**as In Paris,’ that was my most simple beat, I was dumbfounded. I’m doing beats with all these chord changes and y’all pick my simplest beat to be my biggest beat,” Hit-Boy said. “That really killed me for a second. That really taught me that it’s the way it hits the ear. It’s not always about piling everything on. It might be the simple thing that takes off."

Behind The Board: Hit-Boy 

During the panel, Ali spoke of his prolific time 2016-18 run where he worked on Kendrick Lamar’s DAMN, SZA’s CTRL, Mac Miller’s The Divine Feminine, Danny Brown’s Atrocity Exhibition, Vince Staples Primadonna, YG’s Still Brazy to name a few. While he was racking up GRAMMY Awards and platinum plaques with his work being played everywhere, he says he was depressed because he felt like a mixing robot who took no time for himself. The panelists all agreed, including DJ K.i.D. who revealed he can be so preoccupied with work he forgets to eat for more than 13 hours and stressed the importance of engineers and producers’ health in making hits.

“As much as we love the grind to be in the studio and going hard for what we love, taking a break for what yourself is super important because you never know what could come out at the end of that. You might take a seven-day break from the studio and make a hit,” DJ. K.i.D said.

While these sonic masters focused more on the human side of hitmaking, they still gave a peek into the gear behind the work they do. Araica expressed her appreciation of the handheld approach on the [Shure] SM-7 or SM-58. MixedByAli briefly touched on his mixing approach being a fusion of analog, explaining he mixes on the SSL G-Series mixing console gifted to him by Dr. Dre while using a sample peak program meter to gauge the loudness of his mixes before sending them off to mastering.

But, in the end, these professionals who reached what most would consider the apex of engineering and production made their hits by being more than service and nothing less than human.

“The relationship between the artist and the engineer is like [being] with your homeboy taking a road trip. Your homeboy knows where he wants to go, but the engineer is holding the map kinda taking him there,” MixedByAli said, as his peers nodded in a shared understanding.

Watch the full conversation here.

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Read More: Hit-Boy On Producing Big Sean's 'Detroit 2' And Nas' 'King's Disease,' Carving His Own Path As An Artist

Rico Nasty

Rico Nasty

Photo: Jason Carman

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Welcome To Rico Nasty's 'Nightmare Vacation'

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As she gears up to release her debut album, 'Nightmare Vacation,' this fall, the Maryland-born rapper tells GRAMMY.com about the evolution of her sound, the cultural connection between her music and fashion and the new era of women-led rap music
John Ochoa
GRAMMYs
Sep 29, 2020 - 10:19 pm

Rico Nasty knows how to stand out. In an era filled with gray days and dark skies, she is the rainbow-bright, spiky-haired, fashion-forward loudmouth with nothing to hide and everything to gain. 

Since first breaking out in 2016 with her underground hits "iCarly" and "Hey Arnold," the Maryland-born rapper has become one of the most exciting, singular voices in today's hip-hop scene. Her unique take on the genre—melodic vibes and hard-edged flows over bright, bass-rattling trap beats, a style she's trademarked as "Sugar Trap"—has helped mutate rap music into all sorts of weird shapes and sounds. Rap music is all the better for it.

On her forthcoming debut album, Nightmare Vacation, Rico bridges her raw style with mainstream ambitions. Just take "iPhone" for a ride. Produced by fellow pop weirdo Dylan Brady, one half of experimental electronic duo 100 gecs, the song is an adrenaline rush of distorted hyperpop paired with Rico's washed-out, razor-sharp rhymes. In the middle of the track, she floats into soft R&B coos that can still cut like rusty blades. 

"I definitely feel like this is just a whole new vibe," Rico Nasty tells GRAMMY.com about the vision behind Nightmare Vacation. "It's a whole bunch of that overcoming, that, 'Wow, I didn't think I could do this.' And then actually do it and it sounds amazing. I look forward to that."

As she gears up to release Nightmare Vacation this fall, Rico Nasty checks in with GRAMMY.com to talk about the evolution of her sound on her debut album, the cultural connection between her music and fashion, and the new era of women-led rap music.

You found the name for your new album, Nightmare Vacation, while you were on a trip to Mexico last year. What's the significance behind the album's title?

I feel like life is dated by what a person thinks they should be. They find themselves in a "nightmare vacation." They find themselves surrounded by a bunch of the stuff that they thought they would love once they got it, but they realized that that wasn't what they wanted—it was what somebody else wanted. I felt like I dealt with a lot of that during [my trip] in Cabo, [Mexico]—just a whole lot of minding myself and growing up and realizing that can't nobody makes choices for me. I like what I like, I don't like what I don't like. I want in life what I want out of life.

I was listening to some of your older music, specifically your 2018 mixtape, Nasty, which is raw, it's hard and it's, well, pretty nasty. Nightmare Vacation has that same energy, but then you also have tracks like "Come Over" and "Loser," which show a little bit of a softer side with some R&B melodies. How would you say your sound has changed or evolved over the last couple of years, or since your last couple of releases?

I feel like I've been in the studio more than I ever have in my entire life. I was doing 72-hour sessions, even just literally experimenting and, obviously, drawing inspiration from the people that I love. I love Rihanna. I feel like she makes the best music, she has the best beats and melodies ever. I just tried to pull from my inspirations, but still keep it me, keep everything true to myself and ... everything that's been going on with my life.

You're doing something really unique and interesting with the rollout of Nightmare Vacation. With each of your announcements, you're sharing these personal letters in a series that you're calling the Nightmare Vacation Journal. Tell me about the journal series and the decision behind all of these personal letters.

I feel like before I dropped a song, I would get real nervous and I'd have all these thoughts. I get all tumbled up and emotional ... I never deal with a lot of other things. I can't really compare it to anything. Every time I drop a song, it's a process of letting go. I feel like whatever emotions I'm feeling the night before I drop those songs, I share my feelings. Whether or not they're meaningful messages or like ... I don't really know. It's just whatever comes to my mind, I feel like that's part of it. Every day, I might look back on this sh*t and say, "Why did I say that? Why did I think that? Why did I feel like that?" But it's just important to share that stuff so [my fans] know what type vibe I'm on when I'm releasing it.

In the first letter for the album's debut single, "iPhone," which you sent out in August, you wrote that you felt anxious about the announcement of Nightmare Vacation. Now that we're getting closer to the album's release, do you still feel anxious?

Yeah, I'm always anxious. I'm always anxious or excited ... I don't know what the word is. I'm always high-strung and ready for whatever ... As a child, I would never think that I would make an album, like a real album. I've toured and I've seen the world and I actually have fans—it's a dream come true. I think anybody would get anxious for sharing that with the world.

That's interesting because when I listen to your music, I don't hear a nervous or an anxious person. Your album, for example, has a track called "Own It," which is basically a self-empowerment anthem. Do you consider yourself confident?

Some days I'm confident. Some days I'm not. I feel like I'm confident when I make music.

When I hear you rapping, I feel like you very much are confident and you love yourself for who you are. How did you go about gaining that confidence? How did you learn to love yourself?

It's one of those things that I feel like, when you're born ... You have to just have an early sense of self-worth. When you're a kid, it's just certain choices that you make ... This is something small, but in high school, I was on this health kick, and I was going to the gym and I was in sports. I was serious about it. I was serious about taking care of myself. The older I've gotten, I became more aware of what it took to take care of myself. I feel like, when you strive for self-love and not perfection or all that other sh*t that you strive for, you just strive to be the best you, whatever you like. You gotta finesse it. It just makes you feel better about everything.

But like I said, you don't feel that way every day. I feel like anybody who's feeling great every day is a lunatic. You're a crazy person. There's no way everybody feels good every single day. There's no way, not one person. Everybody feel like sh*t. Some days I feel ugly. Some days I feel like the baddest person in the room. Some days I feel misunderstood. Some days I feel like everybody can relate to me ... It's up and down.

Read: Rico Nasty On Being Fearless & The Importance Of Highlighting Black Women's Emotions

Going back to your letters and journal, it all feels very intimate. They reveal a little vulnerability, and they're written directly to your fans. What's your relationship like with your fans, the so-called Nasty Mob?

I always tell them that our relationship is one-of-a-kind because they've never given me a hard time. I've never had a situation with my fans where I'm out and they're just giving me a hard time. Everybody who I come in contact with is just respectful and polite, dressed cool as hell, and their hair is fire and their makeup is fire. They're just a really cool individual. I always say that I would probably be friends with my fans if I was just a regular person, like if I just seen them out, I'd be like, "OK. You can hang with me. Let's get lit." It's just one big gang, one big mob.

Whenever I'm in the city, I personally invite certain fans that have come out to other shows. I just feel like I watched them growing. We all met when they was like 17 and I'm, like 19. My first time away from home, they first time ever going to a show. Just that human interaction is so important, especially now with coronavirus. I've cried a couple of times about missing them, like literally missing them, their presence, the way how I can get on stage and say, "Guys, I feel terrible today. Today has been the worst day ever." And they just scream at me and throw flowers at me, throw gifts at me, get on each other's shoulders, they mosh for me. It's one-of-a-kind, the love that I have for them. They're the best fans ever, I don't care what anybody says.

Rico Nasty

Rico Nasty | Photo: Jason Carman

It sounds like your fans are really excited about Nightmare Vacation. What do you think they're going to think about the album?

I just imagine a brain that's gray, and I just imagine a colorful brain after they see the album. [They're going] to be stimulated and well-fed and well-behaved. They probably won't be as mad at me as they are now. I feel like they're going to have a lot of fun with this album ... Fun by themselves, fun going for a walk, fun in the shower, fun driving alone. You don't even need a person to listen to this album with. You don't need nobody to party with. It's the party. This is the party. Put this b*tch on and let go. This the party in your room. You don't need nobody.

Read: Princess Nokia Is Making Space For People Who "Don't Have A Voice Yet" In Music

Speaking of having fun, did you have fun making Nightmare Vacation?

Yeah, I had fun making every single song on his album. But you know what I didn't have fun doing? I didn't have fun learning a whole lot of stuff. Obviously, every artist, you learn so much. You learn the ins and outs, you learn the ups and downs, you learn the pauses, the, "This might not be cleared. This might get cleared." This video and these dates and features and people available. You learn so much sh*t. So it definitely takes away [from] the glory of, "Wow this is great, great studio session!"

But that is what it is. It's Nightmare Vacation, man, f**k that. Everything's good, everything's bad—it's life. But you love life, right? You don't want to die. You want to see tomorrow. You might f***ing hit the lottery tomorrow. If you died, you wouldn't see that. You wouldn't see anything.

On an artistic level, does Nightmare Vacation feel different from what you've done before?

I definitely feel like this is just a whole new vibe. I never would have thought I could make a song like "Own It." "Own It" is so smooth, it's just different. The video is so couture and so camp, and it's different. It's a whole bunch of that overcoming, that, "Wow, I didn't think I could do this." And then actually do it and it sounds amazing. I look forward to that.

As you said, your "Own It" video shows some very futuristic fashion. You've got some strong looks on there. You have your hands in fashion: You have your own unique, very colorful look and style. You're going to be appearing and walking in Rihanna's Savage X Fenty show this week. What's the connection between fashion and your music?

I feel like I would not be who I was if the music didn't match the way I dress. [Giggles.] I feel like the music has to match your style ... I don't know, it doesn't have to. Look at J. Cole. J. Cole doesn't really go deep into that fashion sh*t. But his music is crazy, and it's a great reflection of him. But for me, my fashion is out there with big-ass boots, crazy eyeliner, leather, spikes. You listen to my music and that's what will probably be in the room if you were laying in the bed with me. [Laughts.].

I think [fashion is] a mirror almost, and I've used it like that. I've used it like a real-life mirror of how I'm feeling. Because sometimes I dress super hardcore, and some days I dress in dresses and I just look like a girly-girl, a whole lot of pink. Fashion is just one of those things that, honestly, the first thing that made feel accepted in any industry ever. 'Cause music was a little hesitant. I remember music was like, "OK, we like her. It's cool." But fashion was really like, "Oh my God, hop out." I made a lot of friends in fashion and a lot of people that keep me inspired.

Read: Leikeli47 On Honest Storytelling, Performing With A Mask, 'Acrylic' & More | Up Close & Personal

You mentioned spikes and leather, which makes me think about punk rock fashion. You've been called a rock star, a punk rock princess, a pop-punk princess. There are mosh pits at your shows. What's your relationship with rock and punk?

I am a fan of rock and punk music, but I feel like I'm really a fan of rap music. I'm a rapper, and I've used those other references, like rock, to blend with rap music. I feel like people kinda ignore that a little bit, but I love rap music. I always tell my manager and my friends, whenever they say stuff like that—it's been so many different titles for me that they're going to have to come up with my own word at this point ... There's punk, there's rock, there's hardcore.

I don't think there's anything ... It's just getting inspired from things that I've heard growing up. I might make a song that sound like that ... It's the voice and the cadence, I get, could be the rock stuff. But also, there's a lot of rockers that have had that crazy-ass voice. Obviously, the beats draw them in and that's what sticks in their head, like, "OK, she raps on this hard." There's a lot of music that people have fallen in love with that don't have anything to do with rock.

Do you believe in genres? Do you see them as an inspiration or a barrier?

I feel like genres definitely are needed ... But I don't know. This new generation, of course, we are just so obsessed with everything being our own and we being the creators of everything. I call my music "Sugar Trap." That's what I've always called it.

What is Sugar Trap?

You have the soft, beautiful, flowy vibes, melodic, but then you also have trap music like Chicago drill music, Atlanta trap music, Memphis trap music, little bit of California trap music. I mix everything. If the sound catches my ear, I mix it. So when we talk about rock, I just remember, when I made that song, I was listening to a lot of rock. I felt very alone and very alienated, so I made music to reflect that. That's why we get songs like "Rage."

Talking about rock, you've mentioned Joan Jett as a major inspiration to your music and your career. In many ways, you are now on that opposite end where you're inspiring a younger generation of rappers, artists and fans. Do you feel the weight of responsibility as a role model to your fans?

Nah, because I feel more of a weight or responsibility to be a role model towards my son. Just as long as I'm a good person to him, that's what really matters to me. Fans going to like what they like. I know some songs they don't like from me; they're allowed to feel that way. I just feel like, where I think my son is different, because they they always grow with me.

As far as the younger generation looking up to me, too, however they're inspired by me, I just want them to understand that they're their own person and they're going to live their own life. And though there might be a lot of situations that resemble one another, there's a lot of choices they're going to have to make that I ain't had to make, and things they going have to do that I ain't have to do. And they just going to have to respect the hustle. It's hard to get where I am. It's gonna be hard to get wherever they get. That's still weird having people look up to me because I take my pants off one leg at a time, and I'm just a regular person.

Your dad, who was a rapper, introduced you to hip-hop. Are you doing the same for your son? Are you introducing him to your music or rap or any other genres?

He be in the studio with me. He go places with me. He knows, he watch my music videos. He listens to his own stuff, though. It's very important that he's his own person, too, 'cause he's one-of-a-kind just by watching him make his own decisions. He listens to Aminé and Post Malone. His music choice is kinda cute. Justin Timberlake, too; he likes Justin Timberlake a lot.

But you know, he don't really listen to my stuff. He's around, he sees it. He was there for some video shoots. He was there for the "Countin Up" video shoot in New York. He's there for a lot of stuff; he's just behind the scenes, though. I definitely try to incorporate him in my life, but I ain't going to force it. He doesn't have to like music.

We are having a major cultural moment in hip-hop: Women are dominating rap, a genre that's always been very male-driven. You have Cardi B and Megan Thee Stallion on top. Does it feel like we're in a new era where women are the new leaders in rap?

Yeah. It's kinda weird watching it become what it is become. This is what the next 10 years is going to look like. I feel like people like women's music more. [Laughs.] I don't know how to say that. A woman's voice, it is what it is. Whether it's rap or whatever it is, the confidence that women give other women, it's unmatched ... I feel like the world needs women's music to heal as well. The early 2000s had so much women's music and girls were so powerful, and the world just felt better. I'm praying for that.

There's a lot of momentum happening for women rappers right now. Where would you like it to go and what needs to happen to take it there?

Well, it's already in a great direction. Obviously, I would wish that people would stop being so judgemental. But it's one of those things where, just like everything else, if you just put it in their face enough, they'll get the point. They'll get it. They'll care. Just like there's a lot of male rappers who talk about certain things, and people just get their point. That's their life. That's what they do. Just give it, like I said, five years and it'll be what it is ... This is the new era of music: women rapping.

In order to make it happen, we just need ... I don't even know what to say. Women already supporting each other. We already cool. We already text each other when great sh*t happens for one another and we're like, "Oh my God, that's crazy!" We are all watching this unfold.

Even At The 'Top' Of The Rap Game, YoungBoy Never Broke Again Still Isn't Satisfied

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YoungBoy Never Broke Again

YoungBoy Never Broke Again

Photo: Tyler Shields

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Even At The 'Top' Of The Rap Game, YoungBoy Never Broke Again Still Isn't Satisfied

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After topping the U.S. charts three times in less than a year, the fast-rising Louisiana rapper tells GRAMMY.com about the breakout success of his new album, 'Top,' the inspiration he finds in his young kids and his close relationship with his fans
John Ochoa
GRAMMYs
Sep 28, 2020 - 3:51 pm

When it comes to interviews, YoungBoy Never Broke Again isn't much of a talker—unless he's chatting about his kids. 

Anyone who's been following the fast-rising rapper knows he shares a special bond with his five young children—he has one little girl on the way, he confirms to GRAMMY.com—who've made regular appearances in his music and videos. 

This past Father's Day (June 21), he released the video for "death enclaimed" in which he's seen spending time with his kids—dancing in the kitchen, combing their hair, playing together on the beach. The clip is interwoven with shots of YoungBoy brandishing racks of cash, guns and luxury cars as he roams his lavish home. 

In the song, he raps about connecting with his youngest son—"He too young to understand, but we still having our one-on-ones"—as well as his ongoing paranoia about being killed in his own home. 

In August, he followed up with "Kacey Talk," the second single off his newly released album, Top. The song features vocal contributions from YoungBoy's son, and the track's eponym, Kacey, who's also featured in the single's official music video. The visual sees a high-rolling YoungBoy making big bank at a casino, signing record deals and spattering neon-bright paint on empty walls with his two young children. 

Whether he's playing businessman or family man, YoungBoy is confidently beaming throughout the whole video. 

"I couldn't get him to stop crying so I had to hold him while I recorded," YoungBoy tells GRAMMY.com about the making of "Kacey Talk." "And it's pretty cool because he actually talked like right when ... I was thinking of him to speak, he did it. So yeah, he's amazing. That's Kacey."

Read: Lil Mosey On The Staying Power of "Blueberry Faygo," Life As A Teen Rap Sensation And Getting The Co-Sign From President Barack Obama

Despite a hectic and busy schedule of recording and releasing new music year after year, he cites his family as one of his main career drivers. 

"This what makes it, that's what creates everything about it," he says about balancing life as a full-time father and artist. "That's what makes it fun. That's what gives you the drive to get up and do more. I ain't never really satisfied. So that's why I am how I am."

That same sense of perennial ambition is what's helped the emerging artist skyrocket from a teenage rap sensation from Baton Rouge, La., to a platinum-selling hip-hop kingpin who's claimed the throne time and time again. Within less than a year, he's topped the all-genre Billboard 200 chart a total of three times via a pair of mixtapes—AI YoungBoy 2 last October and 38 Baby 2 in May—and his most recent album, Top. (Still Flexin, Still Steppin, his first of two mixtapes in 2020, also came close to topping the chart, bowing at No. 2 in March.)

While this "content-deluge strategy," as The New York Times writes, of frequently releasing new music and full-on projects has helped YoungBoy dominate the rap game, his relentless approach to creating is less about some marketing grand design and more of an emotional reaction to the moments he's living in now.  

"My brain ain't on standstill," YoungBoy explains. "My music is kind of my life, so you know the music ain't going to be at no standstill. I'll always feel like I got something to speak on or to say to get my point across. I'm always, like, in a moment with my music or with my thoughts or with my releases. That's kind of how I do that connection with my fans."

YoungBoy's rabid fan base is also key to his breakout success: After announcing the release of Top in August, the album topped the Apple Music charts based solely on preorders, according to Billboard. The impressive feat is a direct reflection of just how much his hungry fans follow his every step. 

But for YoungBoy, his direct relationship with his fans goes beyond streaming numbers and chart placements. 

"They mean everything," he says of his fans. "I always is true. I never hid nothing with them from the jump. So it's a reimbursement cycle going on with us, I guess. It's spiritual: I dish out pain, they dish out what they dish. But dish out the negative or positive, either way it go, I'm still noticed by them. I'm thankful for that—bet. They giving back and I'm giving back. It's a big cycle."

But as YoungBoy's star continues to rise in the public forum, so, too, does his personal life, which has become a constant source of legal issues, including multiple arrests and serious charges. Last August, he was placed on house arrest after violating his probation stemming from a 2016 shooting, according to Billboard. (He was allowed to record new music from his home and post it to YouTube while on house arrest, Baton Rouge, La., daily newspaper The Advocate reports.)

Much like YoungBoy keeps his struggles and intimate experiences at the fore in his music, he's used his legal battles and stints in jail as inspiration for his art. Last September, he released "House Arrest Tingz," a featured track on Top, whose video chronicles his experience on house arrest. 

"I really feel like it kind of trapped me because it was tough for me to make music in there," he says of his house arrest spell. "It really kind of trained me. I had a big writer's block. But I guess there's the whole thing of trying to get yourself together. I don't know, but it was a f***ed-up position they had me in."

While YoungBoy Never Broke Again remains one of the top rappers in the scene today—Top currently sits at No. 3 on the latest Billboard 200 chart, behind the late Pop Smoke, at the time of this writing—he "ain't satisfied" yet. 

"It's good. It's a big step forward," he says of his recent successes. 

And as for the reception of Top, he only asks fans and listeners for one thing.

"I don't want them to do sh*t but respect it. It's simple as that."

DaBaby Talks 'BLAME IT ON BABY (DELUXE),' Black Lives Matter Remix Of "ROCKSTAR" And Rap's Obsession With Deluxe Albums

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