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Just For Mom

The Mother's Day GRAMMY playlist

GRAMMYs/Dec 3, 2014 - 05:06 am

The Intruders probably recorded the ultimate audio Mother's Day card with their 1973 hit "I'll Always Love My Mama," in which they celebrated the woman who sacrifices everything for her child.

Meanwhile, in maybe the most psychologically wrenching song about moms, John Lennon simultaneously dismisses and longs for his on the harrowing "Mother," a tune likely influenced by the Primal Therapy he was exploring at the time.

Over the years, moms have figured into many songs, as a voice of conscience, as an advisor, as a shoulder to lean on, and as someone who tried but, in most country songs, failed to protect us, usually from ourselves.

So on this Mother's Day, we've rounded up GRAMMY-winning songs and GRAMMY Hall Of Fame recordings that for better, and sometimes worse, talk about the woman — outside of our wives, girlfriends, sisters, co-workers, and BFFs — we're most conflicted about, but surely love.


"Pistol Packin' Mama" (iTunes>)
Al Dexter, GRAMMY Hall Of Fame, 2000

Not really about mothers at all, more about an angry woman done wrong, but who can resist the idea of a pistol packin' Mother's Day?


…And His Mother Called Him Bill
(iTunes>)
Duke Ellington, Best Instrumental Jazz Performance — Large Group Or Soloist With Large Group, 1968

OK, this one isn't about mothers specifically, it's more about brothers, namely Ellington's musical partner Billy Strayhorn, who died of cancer in 1967 and to whom this album is a tribute. Still, it's telling that at an emotional time as this must have been, Ellington would see a tragic death through a mother's eyes.


"What's Going On" (iTunes>)
Marvin Gaye, GRAMMY Hall Of Fame, 1998

Gaye's classic ode to the troubled nature of the world begins with a testament to the devastating effects of war when young sons don't return home from the battlefield: "Mother mother, there's too many of you crying," Gaye sings in the opening lines. Just make sure your mother isn't crying this Mother's Day.


"Mama Tried" (iTunes>)
Merle Haggard, GRAMMY Hall Of Fame, 1999

Yes, this is the country song in which the mother tries to protect the son from himself, but, as we might have guessed, he ends up in prison for life. As Haggard plainly sings, "She tried to raise me right, but I refused."


"Parents Just Don't Understand" (iTunes>)
DJ Jazzy Jeff & The Fresh Prince, Best Rap Performance, 1988

The title may seem equal opportunity, but the first half of this GRAMMY-winning rap by Will "the Fresh Prince" Smith and partner DJ Jazzy Jeff is all about every suburban kid's teen nightmare: a trip with mom to the mall for school clothes. Lennon may reconsider missing his mother.


"Mamas Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up To Be Cowboys" (iTunes>)
Waylon Jennings & Willie Nelson, Best Country Vocal Performance By A Duo Or Group, 1978

Usually, it's the moms giving advice, but in the case of this outlaw classic, it's the sons who grew up to be lonely, ornery cowboys who are teaching moms to steer their sons into more respectable professions. Oh, say, "doctors and lawyers and such."


"Mama He's Crazy" (iTunes>)
The Judds, Best Country Performance By A Duo Or Group With Vocals, 1984

With her mom Naomi by her side, Wynnona Judd sings about mom's advice leading her to the man of her dreams. Yes, he may be crazy, but he's crazy for her. And the fans were crazy for this song as it topped Billboard's Country Singles chart.


"The House That Built Me" (iTunes>)
Miranda Lambert, Best Female Country Vocal Performance, 2010

Written as an ode to something everyone can relate to — the house they grew up in — this song depicts a house that was a mother's dream. "Mama cut out pictures of houses for years/From Better Homes And Gardens magazine," sings Lambert. The song also garnered nods for Best Country Song and Song Of The Year at the 53rd GRAMMY Awards in February.


"Mama Said Knock You Out" (iTunes>)
LL Cool J, Best Rap Solo Performance, 1991

Maybe not tops on the list of motherly advice, LL Cool J nevertheless cites mom as the authoritarian voice that approves of this seemingly thuggish boast. In reality, mom probably would approve of a song that's really about staking your claim in the world. She'd also be proud of LL Cool J for cracking the Billboard Hot 100 Top 20 with this song.


"Hello Muddah, Hello Faddah" (iTunes>)
Allan Sherman, Best Comedy Performance, 1963

Every child has had that moment when they leave the security of his/her mother's side for a first-time foray to summer camp, and Sherman's classic novelty song about a child's letter to his parents on the travails of camp ("Now I don't want this should scare ya/But my bunkmate has malaria") has a sweet nostalgia, even though kids today are likely tweeting the same pained messages.


"Mrs. Robinson" (iTunes>)
Simon & Garfunkel, GRAMMY Hall Of Fame, 1999

This is sort of the other side of motherhood. In the 1967 film The Graduate, from which this song is taken, Anne Bancroft's Mrs. Robinson is a kind of anti-hero mother. An unsatisfied middle-aged woman living at the shift from post-war '50s to the counterculture revolution, she ultimately turns to a self-serving depression, has an affair with her daughter's eventual partner, and then tries to stand in the way of their happiness. A real mother of a bummer — or a bummer of a mother.


"Waterfalls" (iTunes>)
TLC, Record Of The Year nominee, 1995

Arguably TLC's finest record, this slightly retro R&B gem tells the tale of a mother troubled by her son's addictions and criminal life. The tune also garnered a nod for Best Pop Performance By A Duo Or Group With Vocal and topped the Billboard Hot 100.


What song will you dedicate to the woman you look up to this Mother's Day? Drop us a comment and let us know.

 

10 Ways TLC Shaped The Future Of R&B
TLC in 1999.

Photo: Ron Davis/Getty Images

feature

10 Ways TLC Shaped The Future Of R&B

As the trailblazing trio's blockbuster albums 'CrazySexyCool' and 'FanMail' celebrate milestone anniversaries, dig into how TLC's fearlessness changed R&B — and music as a whole.

GRAMMYs/Feb 22, 2024 - 03:12 pm

From the moment TLC burst onto the scene in 1991, they've tested the limits of what R&B is and can be. Formed as a tomboyish alternative to Bell Biv DeVoe, the Atlanta trio soon ended up eclipsing the New Jack Swing pioneers — and pretty much every other R&B act of the 1990s — with a sound and style that perfectly straddled the gritty and the smooth, the playful and the poetic, and the old and the new.  

Furthermore, each member of TLC brought something distinctive to the table. Tionne 'T-Boz' Watkins had the kind of huskiness that could make the phone book appear seductive; Rozonda 'Chilli' Thomas offered a poppier register tailor-made for radio; and the late Lisa 'Left Eye' Lopes possessed a lyrical flow that flitted between the mischievous and socially conscious. They simply sounded like no other girl group who had come before. 

Of course, the four-time GRAMMY winners subsequently spawned their fair share of emulators — most notably Left Eye protégés Blaque — and inspired a younger generation to channel their winning brand of crazy, sexy, and cool: BLACKPINK, Little Mix, and Fifth Harmony are just a few of the more contemporary girl groups who have publicly acknowledged their influence.

In the same year TLC celebrate both the 30th anniversary of their diamond-selling blockbuster, CrazySexyCool, and the 25th anniversary of its chart-topping follow-up FanMail, here's a welcome reminder of why the three-piece were such a game-changer.

They Empowered Their Audience

Like their arguably most obvious predecessors Salt-N-Pepa, TLC weren't afraid to talk about sex. "Red Light Special" and "Let's Take Our Time," in particular, were steamy enough to leave your speakers dripping; the X-rated "I'm Good at Being Bad" almost makes Megan Thee Stallion and Cardi B's "WAP" sound chaste. This was an admirably bold move in an era where male R&B performers were celebrated for being insatiable horndogs, and women were castigated for showing the merest sign of lust.

It wasn't just in the bedroom where TLC rallied against such double standards, though. Inspired by a blatant display of toxic masculinity on an episode of"Ricki Lake," "Unpretty" fought back against the ridiculous expectations imposed on women, ultimately setting a benchmark for every female self-empowerment anthem that followed.

They Delivered A Bold Message

The trio also opened up conversations on sex outside the pleasure principle. The video for debut single "Ain't 2 Proud 2 Beg" saw all three members attach condoms to their bright, baggy outfits, with Left Eye famously sporting one on the body part that inspired her nickname to further promote the issue of safe sex. 

Their second No. 1, "Waterfalls," highlighted the need for such protection with a subtle reference to HIV ("Three letters took him to his final resting place," T-Boz warns in the second verse). And the remix of their first chart-topper, "Creep," saw Left Eye spell out more explicitly the dangers of messing around on the downlow. For those who grew up in the early '90s, TLC were arguably more effective than any sexual health initiative.  

They Gave R&B The Blockbuster Treatment

Ah, the '90s, a time when music executives thought nothing of giving artists music video budgets akin to a small country's GDP. Luckily for Arista Records, TLC always delivered plenty of bang for their million-plus bucks.

Interspersing gritty depictions of both the drug and AIDS epidemics with groundbreaking performance footage of the trio in liquified form, "Waterfalls" picked up four wins at the annual VMAs, including Video of the Year. The GRAMMY-nominated visual for "Unpretty" tackled the issue of body image, racism, and gang violence in another highly dramatic mini masterpiece, while "No Scrubs" saw Hype Williams work his usual cyber-futuristic magic on the world's coolest space station. As a result, TLC became the defining R&B act of MTV's second generation.

They Merged The Worlds Of R&B And Hip-Hop 

While Mary J. Blige is often dubbed the Queen of Hip-Hop Soul, it could be argued that the title should be shared amongst TLC. The trio were plausibly the first major outfit to blend the beats and rhymes of rap music with the melodic sensibilities of R&B without any outside assistance. They scored almost as many No. 1s on Billboard's R&B/Hip-Hop Songs chart as they did on the Hot 100 as proof.

Left Eye, a firecracker of an MC whose lyrical flow was every bit as flamboyant as her fashion sense, was undoubtedly the group's secret weapon, allowing them to bounce between slow jams and party anthems with ease. An inspired choice of producers — ranging from established hitmaker Babyface to fellow Atlantans Organized Noize — also helped them to reflect both the sounds of commercial radio and the sounds of the streets.

They're The Queens Of Survival 

While there have been plenty of resilient pop stars, TLC repeatedly proved that they were experts in bouncing back. After all, the trio were forced to deal with near-insurmountable hardships in between nearly every album campaign. Following 1991's Ooooooohhh... On the TLC Tip, T-Boz became severely ill with sickle cell anemia, a condition she'd previously kept under wraps. On the other hand, Left Eye gave the tabloids a field day thanks to a turbulent relationship with Andre Rison, which involved numerous physical altercations and, most famously, the rapper burning the NFL star's house down.

Despite selling 23 million copies of 1994's CrazySexyCool, the group found themselves filing for bankruptcy after discovering they'd been the victim of an exploitative record contract. And then most tragically of all, 2002's 3D had to be completed as a duo when Left Eye lost her life in a car crash. After years of studio inactivity, T-Boz and Chilli once again proved their indomitable spirit with 2017's eponymous LP, particularly on opener "No Introduction" and the Boney M-sampling "It's Sunny" ("Don't be trippin' all over your fears/'Cause the good comes after bad/First you cry and then you laugh/As we head into another year").

They Pushed R&B Into The 21st Century 

After incorporating everything from classic Philly soul to '80s Prince on the retro-leaning CrazySexyCool, TLC decided to push things forward on follow-up FanMail, a thrillingly futuristic record which essentially reshaped the R&B scene for the 21st century. Skillfully interweaving all kinds of Y2K sounds (most notably, the dial-up modem), the opening title track and "Silly Ho" perfectly reflect the album's cyber artwork. Way ahead of their time, meanwhile, several spoken word interludes are attributed to a talking android named Vic-E.

If all this sounds a little gimmicky, then FanMail also had substance to its technological style, with the disconnect between the online and real worlds a recurring theme. "No Scrubs," meanwhile, essentially set a new feminist agenda, spearheading a wave of useless man-dragging anthems from the likes of Destiny's Child ("Bills, Bills, Bills"),Pink ("There You Go"), andToni Braxton ("He Wasn't Man Enough").

They Were Great At Harnessing New Talent 

One thing TLC don't get enough credit for is how they recognized and utilized talent that had only just started their path to world dominance. Take André 3000, for example. Having just released their fabulously titled debut Southernplayalisticadillacmuzik, Outkast were still largely unknowns when the flautist unleashed his laid-back drawl on CrazySexyCool closer "Sumthin' Wicked This Way Comes." Within a year, the duo were runners-up on the Billboard 200.

TLC were also the first major label outfit to draw upon the production skills of Jermaine Dupri ("Bad By Myself"), the So So Def founder responsible for 10 Hot 100 chart-toppers, and Kevin 'She'kspere' Briggs ("No Scrubs"), the hitmaker whose partnership with former Xscape vocalist Kandi Burruss set the blueprint for turn-of-the-century R&B.

They Broke Down Barriers 

There are plenty of stats to back up TLC's game-changing status, too. In 1995, they achieved a feat that had remarkably eluded Michael Jackson, Janet Jackson, and Prince: the first act of color ever to win Video of the Year at the MTV VMAs.

In 2000, they became the first female act to win GRAMMYs for Best R&B Song, Best R&B Performance by a Duo or Group with Vocals, and Best R&B Album in the same year. And having shifted an astonishing 65 million records worldwide, they're second only to the legendarySupremes when it comes to America's best-selling girl group. If that wasn't enough, CrazySexyCool's 10 million domestic album sales means they joinDixie Chicks as one of only two all-women outfits to receive an RIAA Diamond award.

They Were Able To Evolve Their Style 

TLC could never be accused of playing it safe. After gatecrashing the New Jack Swing scene with their playful 1991 debut, the trio transformed into soulful seductresses on the timeless CrazySexyCool before capturing the sound of the millennium on the innovative FanMail.

And while their 21st century releases haven't been quite as game-changing, 2002's 3D and their 2017 self-titled LP still highlighted TLC's ability to move with the times (see the Pharrell and Timbaland productions on 3D and social media clapback "Haters" on TLC).

They've been equally adaptable when it comes to their sense of style, from the Day-Glo overalls of their early years, to the slinky pajamas and sleek crop tops of their mid-'90s phase, to the striking space-age fashions of Y2K. And their sartorial vision has continued to make waves, with Vogue magazine declaring in 2017 that labels including Gypsy Sport, Valentino, and Balenciaga had all borrowed from the group's 'glam-leisure' look in recent years.

They've Continued To Pervade Pop Culture 

Although their recording output has been relatively slim over the last 20 years, TLC have still remained a part of the pop culture landscape. One of the 21st century's most streamed hits, Ed Sheeran's "Shape of You," was deemed so similar to "No Scrubs" that the Brit was forced to acknowledge its influence in the songwriting credits.

Drake, Zendaya, and Kaytranada are just a few of the contemporary names who've either sampled or covered the trio, while rapper J. Cole managed to persuade T-Boz and Chilli themselves to join him in the studio on 2013's "Crooked Smile." A 2023 Lifetime documentary special and appearances on various nostalgia tours have further kept the TLC name in the spotlight.

And could we soon be seeing their eventful story played out on Broadway? At the 2023 '90s Con, the duo revealed they'd been working on a new stage musical with the team behind award-winning phenomenon Hamilton.

7 Artists From R&B's New Class: Coco Jones, Kiana Ledé, Phabo & More

Billy Strings On His Three GRAMMY Nominations, Working With Dierks Bentley & Willie Nelson
Billy Strings

Photo: Christopher Morley

interview

Billy Strings On His Three GRAMMY Nominations, Working With Dierks Bentley & Willie Nelson

When Willie Nelson asked Billy Strings for instructions in the studio, he thought, 'I'm nobody, dude; you're Willie Nelson. You're asking me?' But Strings is certainly somebody: he's up for three golden gramophones at the 2024 GRAMMYs.

GRAMMYs/Jan 18, 2024 - 04:44 pm

Is it possible to write someone else's song for them? Which isn't the same as being an outside writer: it's writing something that spiritually belongs to your influence. That's the sensation that came over guitar and banjo picker Billy Strings, when he wrote "California Sober."

"California Sober" had the lilt and thematic ring of something like Willie Nelson and Merle Haggard's 1983 hit "Reasons to Quit"; in fact, it felt like it emanated from Nelson entirely. Which makes sense, given that Strings had just hit the road with the country patriarch.

"I don't think I would've recorded the song if Willie wouldn't have wanted to do it with me," Strings tells GRAMMY.com. "It's like, I'm not even going to cut this unless Willie wants to do it. It would just be like ripping off Willie's sound."

Exhilaratingly, the Red-Headed Stranger accepted — and their resultant duet of "California Sober" is nominated for Best American Roots Song at the 2024 GRAMMYs. And that's just the beginning of his prospects at Music's Biggest Night, coming up on Feb. 4.

At the 2024 GRAMMYs, Strings also picked up a nomination for Best Bluegrass Album for Me/And/Dad — his album with his bluegrass old-timer father, Terry Barber. And Dierks Bentley's "High Note," featuring Strings, is up for Best Country Duo/Group Performance.

Read on for an interview with Strings about how these albums and songs came to be, and what he learns from Nelson, Bentley, and Béla Fleck, and much more.

This interview has been edited for clarity.

Tell me about your relationship with the Recording Academy, and the GRAMMYs.

Well, the last few years, let's see: we were nominated for Best Bluegrass Album for Home, and we won that [in 2021]. And the next year we were nominated for two different things. Can't really remember, but we didn't win anything. [Editor's note: Strings received nominations for Best Bluegrass Album (Renewal) and Best American Roots Performance ("Love And Regret").]

That was when I went out there and checked it out, and had a great time being on the red carpet and seeing all the crazy outfits and stuff. And it's kind of crazy because although we didn't win, my friend Béla Fleck won.

I played on [his] record [2021's My Bluegrass Heart]. I was so honored to play with Béla Fleck and all those amazing musicians on that record, and it's been like 20 years since Bela made a bluegrass record — it's like, man, he deserves it.

And that was a big moment in my life — being in the studio with those guys, making that record. I still look back and I'm grateful to Béla for giving me the opportunity to do that because it gave me so much more confidence in myself. I still get almost emotional when I think about Béla actually asking me to be on his record because it just means so much to me. It's just always been kind of crazy. I'm just completely flabbergasted and honored because I never thought I'd be nominated for a GRAMMY or anything — let alone we won one already.

[Me/And/Dad] is probably the most important record I'll ever make because it's with my dad. And I think it's an important record for bluegrass too, just because of the songs and kind of the way we played those songs. And there's an old style that, as time goes on, the guys who sing and play like that are kind of dying off.

My dad's one of that older guard, and he just has this beautiful voice and amazing guitar playing, and he taught me everything I know about bluegrass music and it's deep in my heart and soul. It was so cool to be able to call my dad and say, hey man, guess what? Our record got nominated for a GRAMMY," and he's like, "Holy s—."

Can you drill deeper into why it's the most important thing you'll ever make?

Because everything I know about music, and bluegrass, I learned from my dad.

He started me off really young in my childhood; it was so based around the music. All the sweet memories that I have from when I was a boy were based around bluegrass music, and it seeps into your heart and soul and gets under your skin in a way that I guess only bluegrassers could really know.

It's music that can make me cry and make me laugh, and it gives me déjà vu, and it's almost a portal directly to my childhood back before I knew anything dirty about the earth. It was back, simpler times, just hanging around the campfire, picking music, and with my family and just beautiful times. 

And whenever I get together with my dad and play, it brings me back to just being a little boy.

And can you speak more to the importance of Béla Fleck? I interviewed him at Newport Folk, and he couldn't have been kinder nor gentler, with a fraction of the ego he could rightfully have.

He's the best man. He's become a good friend of mine. Obviously, he was my hero first. And so that's always good when you meet your heroes and they're really cool people. It means a lot.

And he's just like any of us; he's constantly just playing and trying to write and get better. He said to me one time, "We're all just trying to keep our heads above water," 'cause maybe I was feeling down about my playing or whatever, he's like, man, we're all doing the same thing.

What he's done for new acoustic music is incredible. The things that he's done with the five string banjo, and not only him, but his bands like the Flecktones and New Grass Revival with Sam Bush and John Cowan and those guys just, that's a big inspiration to us up and comers that are playing bluegrass music but like a little bit more progressive side.

I listen to everything from heavy metal to hip-hop and jazz and everything, so it's kind of sweet when you can take bluegrass instruments and play any kind of fusion music. And Béla is a huge innovator in that world.

One thing he told me was, "There is no best." I'm sure that resonates with you in some way.

Yeah, absolutely. Everybody's kind of the best at what they do. I'll never be as good as Tony Rice, ever — not if I practice eight hours a day for the rest of my life. I'll never touch him. But if I just kind of focus on what I'm doing and try to invent my own voice, maybe I'll be the best one at that.

How would you characterize that voice you've developed?

Well, I was raised playing bluegrass music — pretty traditional bluegrass. And then in my teenage years, I veered off and played heavy metal and got into more writing songs and just lots of different music other than bluegrass.

But when I came back to bluegrass, some of those things kind of stuck, particularly the stage performance thing. A lot of bluegrass bands, I feel like just stand there and play, 'cause they don't really have to do anything else. I can't help but move around and jump around and bang my head and stuff like I used to in a heavy metal band, 'cause that's how I learned to perform.

I've seen people be like, man, this is not headbanging music. And I'm like, "Well, hell yeah, it is."

Can you talk about Dierks Bentley, and "High Note," and the road to the nomination for Best Country Duo/Group Performance?

Dierks is a good buddy. He's just a real dude. I met him a few years ago. I was walking down the street, I was going to lunch with [flatpicker] Bryan Sutton and this white pickup truck pulled up, and Brian's like, "Oh, hey, what's up, man?"

We started talking. I didn't even know who it was. And the inside of his pickup truck was a mess. It was just like, s— everywhere, tapes and old, just like my car. So I'm like, okay, well, who's this guy? And then I realized he's a big country star, and I liked that he was a big country star and drove around with a messy truck.

Are you a messy truck guy too?

I try to keep it pretty nice nowadays, but yeah, usually my s— gets trashed. There's like fishing lures and just bulls— everywhere.

So I don't know, that made an impression on me for some reason — the inside of the cab of his truck. But after that, we became buddies and we had picked a couple times. He's a good buddy of [mandolinist] Sam Bush as well and so that's kind of a mutual friend of ours.

And there had been a couple times on stage where me and Sam were playing with Dierks, and he can play some bluegrass, man. He knows a lot of bluegrass songs and stuff.

So when he hit me up to do this song with him, I was like, of course, but especially when I heard it on a high note, he knows I like to smoke a lot of weed and stuff, so it was kind of like the perfect song for me. And it had that bluegrass flavor so I could jump on guitar and sing the tenors and stuff, sing the harmonies and stuff.

How popular is weed in the bluegrass community?

Well, I mean, in our scene it's pretty popular, but there's also folks that don't like to see me up there smoking or anything… maybe the more old-school kind of conservative types. But I just do my thing, man. I'm not trying to hurt nobody.

Speaking of, we have "California Sober" with Willie Nelson.

Man, so, Willie Nelson, holy f—.

Yeah, dude.

Wow, I love him so much. My grandpa loved him a lot, and my mom. When I grew up, my dad would, he'd be singing "Blue Eyes Crying In The Rain" and all them songs, and a lot of songs off Red Headed Stranger, I heard growing up — my dad singing those, and my grandpa playing the records, and stuff.

Willie was a big deal, especially to my grandpa, and he's been dead since 2001. So I always think about my grandpa when I think of Willie too, 'cause he loved him so much. If my grandpa was around to hear this song, he would just lose it.

And the way that it came about was, I went on tour with Willie on his road show, The Outlaw Tour, and we were one of the bands on there. And during that tour, Willie invited me up on his bus, and we hung out for a little while and just shot the s— and told jokes, and he told me how he got Trigger and everything, and talked about Django Reinhardt and Doc Watson.

I just had a great time. It was like hanging out with my grandpa or something, and I had a great time on the tour. And when I got home from that tour, I was sitting out by my burn pile and I ripped off this piece of cardboard, and I just had this tune going in my head, "I'm California sober, as they say / Lately, I can't find no other way."

I just wrote it down on this piece of cardboard. And then I went inside and kind of started writing a song — and I realized that I was writing a Willie Nelson song. I was so inspired by being on the road with Willie that I came home and I wrote this song — it's like I wrote it, but it was such a Willie song.

So what happened next?

I had my manager reach out to his manager, or whatever, and say, "Hey, here's this song that I wrote. Would you want to do it with me? And the answer was a resounding, 'Hell yes.'"

We made the track here in Nashville with me and the band, and then I went down to Luck, to his studio down there at his home in Texas, and Willie came in and we just hung out for a while, man. He sat down in front of the mic and he said, "Well, what do you want me to do?" And I was like, What the hell? I'm nobody, dude; you're Willie Nelson. You're asking me?

But he was like, "Well, do you want me to sing a verse?" I was like, "Tell, try to sing harmonies on the chorus and then take a crack at that second verse." So he put the harmonies on the chorus just fine. And when he got to this verse, it seemed like he was kind of just still learning the words a little bit, and I don't know if something [happened] like, he got frustrated on one take or something.

The next time, he just nailed it, and it was like this young Willie voice came out and he just sang so beautifully, and I had goosebumps, and it was just incredible, man.

And then right after that, he finished his part, he said, "We got it?" And I said, "Man, I think we got it. He said, "OK, let's go play cards."

So we went out back to his little spot there, where he's been playing cards for 50 years with everyone, Johnny Cash and Kris Kristofferson. His old buddy, Steve, [was there]; we were sitting there playing poker, and… I'm sitting there playing cards with two old buddies who have been playing cards together for 50 years, man. Hearing those two talk s— to each other, man.

They took a thousand dollars of my money real quick, and I would've paid another thousand just to sit there at that table and hear them bulls— each other.

What will your call with Willie be like if "California Sober" wins?

I'm going to say, "Hey, man, I'm coming to get my thousand dollars back."

Béla Fleck Has Always Been Told He's The Best. But To Him, There Is No Best.

How DJ Jazzy Jeff & The Fresh Prince Created The Ultimate Prototype For The Producer/Rapper Duo
DJ Jazzy Jeff and The Fresh Prince performing at "A GRAMMY Salute To 50 Years Of Hip-Hop."

Photo: Sonja Flemming/CBS via Getty Images

news

How DJ Jazzy Jeff & The Fresh Prince Created The Ultimate Prototype For The Producer/Rapper Duo

Ahead of their much-anticipated reunion on the CBS special "A GRAMMY Salute to 50 Years of Hip-Hop," take a look at the groundbreaking ways DJ Jazzy Jeff & The Fresh Prince bolstered the power of the hip-hop duo.

GRAMMYs/Dec 8, 2023 - 05:12 pm

There were plenty of rapper/DJ duos before DJ Jazzy Jeff & the Fresh Prince. Most notably, T La Rock & Jazzy Jay released the influential 1984 single "It's Yours," Def Jam's first release as a rap label run by Rick Rubin and Russell Simmons. There was Mantronix, consisting of MC Tee and producer Kurtis Mantronik, who had their first hit with "Fresh Is the Word" a year later. Well before that, '70s hip-hop pioneer Kool Herc was a DJ known for getting the party started with rhymer Coke La Rock.

But the Philadelphia duo of Jeffrey Townes and Will Smith went beyond their predecessors in several important ways, and set up a prototype of the rapper/DJ — or, as music-making techniques changed, rapper/producer — combination that would explode in the years following their success.

By the time Jeff and Will (and their third member, beatboxer Ready Rock C) released their first single in 1986, duos were a thing in pop music: Soft Cell, Erasure, Eurythmics. The prominence of musical pairs would continue to grow over the next few years, largely because of technology. 

As a 1987 Philadelphia Inquirer article headlined "Pop’s New Dynamic Duos" pointed out, "The electronic age has yielded not only a new kind of music, via synthesizers, sequencers, drum machines, digital audio computers, hardware and software, but it has also spawned a new kind of group: duos in which one [person] sings and the other pushes buttons."

This division of labor — one person on music and one on lyrics — worked perfectly in hip-hop, a genre that came out of parties where a DJ spun records and someone on a mic hyped up the crowd. But when it came to DJ Jazzy Jeff & the Fresh Prince, unlike some of their predecessors, it was clear they were a team: Not only were they co-billed, but the DJ's name came first. 

That's largely because Jeff was the virtuoso. While Will had the movie-star chemistry and funny stories, Jeff was the music obsessive and the innovative record-spinner who implemented new techniques — most notably, the robotic-sounding "transformer" scratch, which Will takes credit for naming in his 2021 memoir. 

And Jeff was the one who proved his hip-hop bona fides by defeating all comers and being crowned the best DJ in the land at the 1986 New Music Seminar. It's a scene that rightfully opens up the very first episode of Smith's new podcast, a good indication of exactly how important that battle was to Will, Jeff and the entire hip-hop world at the time. (You can listen to Jeff's winning routines here).

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Putting Jeff's name first in the pairing made sense in a number of ways: not only was he unimpeachably credentialed and respected, but the order itself was also a nod to the DJ's primacy in the origins of hip-hop, and in the group's home city of Philly. Whether all of those ideas were consciously considered in how they named themselves or not, they were all there in how the duo was considered.

The equality of members was emphasized from the very beginning in their music, too. Sure, their first single was the wacky, I Dream of Jeannie theme-quoting story-song "Girls Ain't Nothing But Trouble." But their second was a tribute to "The Magnificent Jazzy Jeff."

They kept that balance throughout their early career as a group. Their second album, He's the DJ, I'm the Rapper, had it throughout — in its title, and especially in its songs.

The record marked another pivotal moment for rap, as it was the genre's first double album. The first two sides had plenty of Will's stories ("Parents Just Don't Understand"; "A Nightmare on My Street"), but sides C and D — billed as a "Bonus Scratch Album" — belonged almost entirely to Jeff.

Whether it was Will and Jeff's success, the overall prominence of duos across genres, or just something in the water, within a few years of DJ Jazzy Jeff & the Fresh Prince getting their start, co-billed DJ/emcee duos were pretty much everywhere. There was Eric B & Rakim, whose first single came out the same year as Will and Jeff's, and Cash Money & Marvelous, who released their first single one year later. 

We also can't forget L.A.'s entry into the sweepstakes, Rodney-O & Joe Cooley, whose 1987 single "Everlasting Bass" was the city's pre-gangsta rap anthem. X-Clan compatriots Unique & Dashan came out in 1989 and, like Rodney-O and Cooley, billed the rapper first. DJ Chuck Chillout & Kool Chip had limited releases as a team — one single and one album to follow it up — but they made an impact regardless. By the dawn of the 1990s, the equally billed DJ/rapper duo was a hip-hop trope. 

It was a format that would morph over the years. First, into groups like Gang Starr, which consisted of a rapper and a DJ/producer subsumed under a single entity name. Later, into MF DOOM's album-length producer collaborations like Madvillainy (Madlib) and The Mouse and the Mask (Danger Mouse). And even today, into rapper/producer pairings like Drake and Noah "40" Shebib, 21 Savage and Metro Boomin, or The Alchemist and essentially everybody in the world

Without DJ Jazzy Jeff & the Fresh Prince, the world might not have paid so much attention to all of these efforts. If there's one thing that Jeff and Will showed us, it's that in rap music or anywhere else, there's real power in teamwork.

DJ Jazzy Jeff & the Fresh Prince will reunite as part of "A GRAMMY Salute To 50 Years Of Hip-Hop," which will air Sunday, Dec. 10, from 8:30 to 10:30 p.m. ET and 8 to 10 p.m. PT. Tune in on the CBS Television Network, and stream live and on demand on Paramount+.

For Questlove, "A GRAMMY Salute To 50 Years Of Hip-Hop" Is Crucial For Rap's Legacy
Questlove

Photo: Leon Bennett/Getty Images for Netflix

interview

For Questlove, "A GRAMMY Salute To 50 Years Of Hip-Hop" Is Crucial For Rap's Legacy

When Questlove worked on the Hip-Hop 50 revue at the 2023 GRAMMYs, the experience was so stressful that he lost two teeth. But he didn't balk at the opportunity to co-produce a two-hour special; the task was too important.

GRAMMYs/Dec 7, 2023 - 05:45 pm

Today, Public Enemy's 1988 album It Takes a Nation of Millions to Hold Us Back is correctly viewed as a watershed not just for hip-hop, but all of music. But when Questlove's father overheard him playing it, it didn't even sound like music to him.

"He happened to pass my room while 'Night of the Living Baseheads' came on and he had a look of disgust and dismay, like he caught me watching porn," the artist born Ahmir Thompson tells GRAMMY.com. "He literally was like, 'Dude, when you were three, I was playing you Charlie Parker records, and I was playing you real singers and real arrangers, and this is what you call music? All those years I wasted on private school and jazz classes. This is what you like?'

"I couldn't explain to him: 'Dad, you don't understand. Your entire boring-ass record collection downstairs is now being redefined in this very album. Everything you've ever played is in this record,'" he says. "If my dad — who was relatively cool and hip, but just getting older — couldn't understand it, then I know there's a world of people out there that are really just like, whatever."

That nagging reality has powered him ever since — whether he's co-leading three-time GRAMMY winners the Roots, authoring books and liner notes, or directing Oscar-winning films.

And that path led straight to Questlove's role as a executive producer for "A GRAMMY Salute To 50 Years Of Hip-Hop," which will air Sunday, Dec. 10, from 8:30 to 10:30 p.m. ET and 8:00 to 10:00 p.m. PT on the CBS Television Network, and stream live and on demand on Paramount+.

Questlove makes no bones about it: working on that 12-minute Hip-Hop 50 revue at the 2023 GRAMMYs was taxing. So taxing, in fact, that he lost two teeth due to the psychological pressure. But he soldiered on, and the result is an inspiring rush of a two-hour special.

"The thing that really motivated me — Look, man, roll up your sleeves and run through this mud — was like, if there ever was going to be a hip-hop time capsule, a lot of the participants in this show are somewhere between the ages of 20 and 60, and everybody's still kind of in their prime," he says.

"So that way,” Questlove continues, “in 2030, 2040, 2050, when our great, great, great, great grandkids are born and they want to look up someone, this'll probably be one of the top five things they look up. And I wanted to be a part of that."

Read on for a rangey interview with Questlove about his role in "A GRAMMY Salute To 50 Years of Hip-Hop," in all its dimensions.

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This interview has been edited for clarity.

What can you tell me about your involvement in "A GRAMMY Salute To 50 Years Of Hip-Hop"?

I could be the guy that complains and complains and complains and complains: Man, I wish somebody would dah, dah, dah. Man, somebody needs to dah, dah, dah. And then the universe the whole time is poking you in the stomach like a dog. You think you're going to be drumming for life — like, that's your job.

So I went through this period where I just hated the lay of the land. And now people are like, "Well, the door is open if you want to come and see if you could change it." And for me, it was just important to.

And at first, I was really skeptical about this because even when I was an artist, my peers all the time would — I say in air quotes jokingly, but it's like, man, I know they're serious — they would just call me a suit. Whenever someone's called a suit in a sitcom or it is like, that's always the bad guy. Or especially for me that's known for all this artistry.

But for me, it's like, I can either just sit on the sidelines and watch this thing slowly kind of go in a direction that I don't want it to go. And often with the history of Black music in America, we're innovating this stuff, but we're really not behind the scenes in power positions to control it or to decide what direction it is. And it's a lot of heartbreaking and hard work.

After the success of the thing that we did in March — that 12-minute revue thing — I'll be honest with you. For 12 minutes that was like going through damn near, and I'm not even using hyperbolic statements by saying, coming out within an inch of my life.

When that moment was literally over and I was on the airplane landing back in New York, two of my teeth fell out. That's the level of stress I was [under]. Imagine landing in JFK and I got to rush to "The Tonight Show," but then it's like, Oh, wait, what's happening? Oh God, no! My teeth are falling out! And going to emergency surgery. My whole takeaway was like: Never again.

So of course when they hit me in July, "Hey, remember that 12 minute thing you did? You want to do the two-hour version of it?" I was like, "Hell no." And of course I hell noed for three weeks and it's like, "All right, I'll do it, but I'll just be a name on it. I ain't doing nothing." And then it went from that to like, "All right, what do you need me to do?"

What I will say is it's a two-hour show in which you got to figure out how to tell [the story of] hip-hop's 50-year totality — its origins, its peak period, its first moments of breaking new ground, the moment it went global around the world. You got to figure out a way to tell this story in two-hour interstitials and be all-inclusive. 

It was just as stressful, even up until four hours ago. I'll just basically say that my teeth didn't fall out, thank God. And it was worth everything, because it's really a beautiful moment.

Sorry for that 12-hour answer, but that's just how my life rolls.

It was a great answer. What was your specific role behind the scenes?

Oh, I'm a producer. Jesse Collins called a group of us in to help facilitate: me, LL [Cool J], Fatima Robinson, Dionne Harmon, Brittany Brazil. There's a group of nine of us who were producers.

So, [part of] my actual division of labor thing was finding people to help facilitate music. This is a genre in which maybe the first six years of the art form, there was no such thing as an instrumental. "Or, "Hey, J.Period, can you recreate 'Check Out My Melody' by Eric B. & Rakim with no vocals in it?"

Finding the right people to do the music, sometimes I'd have to do it myself. And a lot of people in hip-hop have been super burnt. Super burnt. And I mean, that's putting it lightly.

And so you're giving these impassioned, Jerry Maguire, help-me-help-you speeches. The amount of times I was like, "Look, I really want you to reconsider your answer. This is our legacy we're talking about."

I'm using terms that a lot of these people, frankly, are hearing for the first time, Because like I've said in past interviews, hip-hop started as outlaw music. No one thought it was going to be a thing. So there's a whole generation that had to lay out the red carpet, just so that the next generation could benefit from it while we disposed of them.

But then that next generation gets disposed of, and then here comes my generation. And then the next thing, you wake up and it's like, "Oh, we're not relevant anymore," and dah, dah, dah.

And I'm trying to convince people, "Wait, you don't understand. Now we have a seat at the table. Now we get to control. All that we talked about, we need to control our destiny, and this is our culture." And there was a lot of that. And some people [were like], "All right, I'll do it for you." [To which I said,] "No, no, don't do it for me. Do it for the culture."

But then there were also people like, "Man, never again. F— all that." And there was also, "Hey, why wasn't I asked?" and all that stuff.  So in these two hours, you're going to see eight to nine segments in which we try to wisely cover every base.

This is the "Lyricist" section, and this is the "Down South" section. And ["Ladies First"] is all about the ladies. And this is for those that passed away. And this is for the club bangers. And this is for music outside of America. And this is for the left-of-center alternative hip-hop.

Yes, we wanted to include everybody, but this is network television. And at that, you only get eight to 12 minutes at a time. So that's even hard. "Hey, why can't I do my chorus and my verse?" "Look, man, you got 32 seconds." If you've ever seen those "Tom and Jerry" cartoons where they're juggling plates in a kitchen — like 30 at a time — I don't recommend that to anybody.

But we got through it. I want everyone to feel proud of where hip-hop has come, because to be nine years old and to get on punishment for hip-hop — you know what I mean? I come from that generation. You've got to pay a price to live this culture.

And now it's established. So that's why I got involved. So there was a lot I had to do. A lot of calls, a lot of begging, a lot of arrangements, a lot of talking to people about clearing their samples, to call up publishing companies: "Look, it's just a four-second segment. It's just one drum roll. Can you please overlook it just for the sake of it?"

The amount of times I had to give those speeches. So yeah, that's what I had to do.

Jesus.

And that's just me. It's nine of us. So there's lighting directions, and choreography, and wardrobe, and dealing with clearance — like FCC, and, "They can't say that." And, "All right, which one of us is going to try to call Snoop to ask him that sort of thing?"

And the amount of Zooms that we were on at five in the morning in the Maldives or halfway around the world.

There must be some component of this process where you recognize that there could never be a perfect two-hour special. There could never be a perfect 200-hour special. There must be something freeing about realizing that nothing can be comprehensive when you're dealing with a cultural ocean like this.

[At one point], I had to take a hip-hop break. And the first thing that I did a week later, after recuperating, was I went on YouTube and I just watched every award show I remember watching — like prime Soul Train Awards back in '87, '88, '89, the years that Michael Jackson was killing the GRAMMYs.

Award shows were so magical to me, when I was a kid. There was a period just between five to maybe 15 or 16 in which I religiously watched that stuff, and you just take it for granted.

When Herbie Hancock did Rockit back in 1983 with all those mechanical break dancers, I wonder the work and the headaches that it took to make that happen. The drummer from Guns N' Roses [was] missing while they had to do "Patience" at the American Music Awards — and Don Henley, of all people, was just on the sidelines like, "Does anyone know how to drum?"

I was in the audience during the whole Chris Brown-Rihanna controversy of [2009]. I was literally at the GRAMMYs. There were like 40 minutes left, and I watched the producer run up the aisles.

Because the thing was, that was the year they decided, "You know what? This is going to be the first year in which we're going to ask artists to double down on stuff. So we're going to have Rihanna sing three songs, and we're going to have Chris do two songs. We're going to have Justin Timberlake. And then, suddenly, their absence now means that there's five major gaps open.

And they had 40 minutes left before they went to go live and I'm watching the producer make an announcement: "Ladies and gentlemen, something just happened. We can't get into it."

The level of viralness now on Instagram or Twitter is expected, but back then it was like, Oh, I wonder what happened? And they're just running up the aisles to Stevie Wonder, "Yo, can you [mimics rapid-fire, inaudible chatter]?"

And I'm looking at him, pondering: What the hell are they asking him? And then Stevie's getting up and doing it, and then, "Jonas Brothers, can you duh, duh, duh? Boyz II Men. Where's Al Green? Is Al Green here?" So literally, I'm watching them solve a headache in real time. And with 20 minutes left, backstage rehearsing, and we were really none the wiser.

I've seen that a few times. My very first GRAMMYs was when Luciano Pavarotti got sick and someone just randomly asked, "Hey, does anyone out there know the lyrics to 'Ave Maria'?" Aretha Franklin raised her hand, and we were all like, 'Wait, we mean the Italian version, like that 'Ave Maria.'" And she's like, "I do know the version."

We underestimated if Aretha Franklin from Detroit, Michigan knew how to sing something in Italian. And within a half hour she was on that stage and she killed that s—.

So it made me literally recapitulate every award show I ever watched.Now I'm watching with the analytical eye: I wonder what headaches it took to put that together? So, it changed me as a spectator and a participant.

I have a friend who's been a dedicated hip-hop fan his entire life. We were talking about the 50th anniversary of hip-hop. He questioned the entire enterprise, arguing that it's an arbitrary number that doesn't mean much to true rap fans. What does the 50th anniversary of hip-hop mean to you, personally?

Well, to me, it's important. There's an interlude that I put on the Things Fall Apart record. The album starts with an argument from [the 1990 film] Mo' Better Blues in which Denzel Washington and Wesley Snipes' jazz musician characters are arguing about just the disposability of the art form.

And it ends with a quote from Harry Allen saying that the thing about hip-hop is that most people think that it's disposable: Let me get what I can out this thing, and I'll throw them out the window. And on top of that, people don't even see it as art. And that really hit me in the gut, because I see the beauty of it.

This is kind of why I got into the game of: first it was with liner notes, and then with social media doing these mammoth history posts. And then it's like, Alright, well, let me write some books, because I'm afraid that no one's doing this level of critical thinking about this particular thing.

I know that the disdain and the dismissiveness that I got from some of hip-hop's participants does sort of stem from a place of ego being bruised. And it's righteous. It's righteous anger. But I also knew that if I sat on the sidelines, then it's like when I have grandkids and they Google this, and if it was a half-assed job, then that's my fault. And I definitely don't want to be the guy that talks, talks, complains, complains, without being a part of it.

So yeah, for the amount of people that prematurely died before the age of 30, and for the startling volume of people that have recently passed away in the last three years because of health issues, cardiac arrest, strokes, a lot of us are dying… You and I are talking right now, right when Norman Lear has passed away at the age of 101.

I just read that in The New York Times.

Dude, can you imagine "Tupac Shakur Dead at 103"? Can you imagine that for hip-hop?

It's a survival tool, because for a lot of us, that was the way out of poverty. It was vital for me. I couldn't just sit back and not watch one person behind the wheel. I have to be the designated driver. So, that's why it's important to celebrate that number.

And a big part of my convincing them was like when they were going to pass, like, "Nah, dog, I'm cool. I got a gig that night," I was like, "Dude, we're not going to do this for the 51st or the 52nd. And frankly, will we be here?" I will be 92 years old if it makes it to the 75th. You know what I mean?

The only person that got in my face was Latifah like, "Excuse me, I will be here for the 75th and I will be for the 100th. You don't know when I'm leaving." So I was like, "More power to you, Dana. All right, good. Queen Latifah will be here for the 100th."

What I'm gathering from what you're saying is that no matter what, it's important to have an organization of this prestige canonize this cultural force.

Oh, absolutely. And I know that oftentimes we play the game of public appearances for the gaze of the establishment. I don't want to get into that thing either: making performative celebrations just so that the mainstream can celebrate us.

I have to say that when you watch it, it really doesn't come off as compromised. This thing really looks good. That was the one thing that we laughed at in the group chat, like, "Man, we just went through Apocalypse Now, and are we all saying it was worth it?"

There are at least three people in my production thread that were sort of like, "Uh-huh, never again. I will never again subject myself." And one of them is dead serious. One of them started doing something the opposite, like, "Nah, I'm just doing classical music from now on. There's no stress there." But it was worth it. It was worth it to me.

Questlove

*Questlove in 2023. Photo: Jamie McCarthy/Getty Images*

It looks to be a classy, expansive special. I'm excited for it to air.

The best part about it? So if you remember, to me, the star of the 12-minute version that we did at the GRAMMYs in March, was Jay-Z.

It was one of the things where it's like, "Hey, do we even ask Jay-Z?" And that's the one guy we decided ourselves, "Well, let's pass on him because number one, he's already performing with DJ Khaled, so we'll pass on him."

Jay-Z actually wound up being the star of that because he was a fan mouthing it in the audience, which to me was almost like better than us just doing a song with Jay-Z on stage. But the audience is the absolute star.

To see Chuck D smile — I've never seen Chuck D smile. As all these acts are coming out and Chuck D's like, singing [Sly and the Family Stone's] "Everyday People," like Boston fans sing "Sweet Caroline" at Red Sox games. Who knew that Chuck D was so jovial about things? But that's with everyone in the audience watching, supporting each other.

So that to me is also an important thing because as audience members on stage, they're ripping it, but as audience members, they're supporting each other. And that, I think is the most important part, because a lot of my take was like, "Wow, I didn't know that dah, dah, dah was so supportive." Or, "Man, Nelly actually knows every Public Enemy lyric. Who knew?" There are a lot of "Who knew?" moments that will shock people for this show.

I'm so glad you brought that up. That was one of my favorite moments during the Hip-Hop 50 performance at the 2022 GRAMMYs. Jay-Z is a billionaire twice over and a global cultural figure, but we see him in the audience, grinning ear-to-ear like a little boy, doing finger guns in the air.

He's getting his life back. And it's important. Especially now, I'm all about joy. And it's not even just like this particular hip-hop figure celebrating his music.

When Chance the Rapper comes out, again, I'm like, "Wow, [Cee] Knowledge from Digable Planets knows Chance?" And then I was like, "Well, they got kids, so of course I'm sure their kids play around the house." I'm doing all this analytical things like, "Wait, how do they know this song? And this is past their age range."

And that to me is the most telling part of this whole thing, to watch generational people get out of their actual zone and to find out that they're fans of — when GloRilla comes out, to watch [Digable Planets' Ladybug] Mecca mouth the lyrics. I was just like, "Oh, wow, OK."

That kind of puts to bed that stereotype that we only listen to the music in our realm. So, yeah, man — to me, that was the magic part of it all.

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