Interviews

Rhymefest

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Interviewed by Kyle Ryan
July 26th, 2006

Although hype for Rhymefest's major-label debut, Blue Collar, officially got going last fall with the single "Brand New," anticipation (and expectations) for the Chicago rapper's ascent to the big time began growing long before he stepped into the studio. A longtime staple of Chicago's underground hip-hop scene, Rhymefest (born Che Smith) famously defeated Eminem at the 1997 Scribble Jam. Around that time, he also became friends with Kanye West. Rhymefest owes much of his current status to that relationship, but he's carefully avoiding West's coattails. After all, he helped create West's success; he co-wrote "Jesus Walks," from West's The College Dropout, and both of them took home Grammys when it won Best Rap Song in 2004. Two years later, Rhymefest has finally struck out on his own, and Blue Collar was worth the wait. Although the album seems rife with contradiction—it's light-hearted and witty, but serious and insightful, and lascivious yet conscientious—Rhymefest would argue that's just how life is. Before Blue Collar's release, he spoke to The A.V. Club about Kanye, dumbing down hip-hop, and his love of crack babies.

The A.V. Club: Your relationship with Kanye gets a lot of attention. How do you find a balance between letting that help you, and exploiting it?

Rhymefest: Well, number one, I'm not signed to Good Music [West's label], and that's obvious—because we're friends and I didn't want to exploit my friendship. Number two, it's not like I met Kanye once he blew. I was part of the machine that made Kanye West. I say to everyone: There's a Kanye around you right now. You find them, and you make something happen. I hang around talented people; passionate, talented people are drawn to one another. Now, I see new people coming up, and I'm hanging with them, building with them. Kanye is grateful to me, so Kanye calls me and says as a brother and a friend, "What do you need? How can I help you?" And there's been a lot of times when I've been like "Nah, it's cool. It's something I have to do." There's been times when he insists, "No, I have to be. Do you know I'm Kanye?" It's funny, the other week we were talking, and I was like, "When did you realize you were famous?" He gave me a classic Kanye answer. I thought he was going to say, "Man, I came off stage, and I looked at the crowd, and it was amidst the smoke, and God's grace coming down." I thought he was going to say that, and he was like, "Kindergarten." [Laughs.] I was like "Dude, you still you." [Laughs.] So with a guy like that, I don't want to ask him for too much, because obviously he already feels as though the show revolves around him. [Laughs.]

AVC: You've said that when people found out Kanye was going to be on this album, producers gouged you for beats.

RF: Have you heard that song where I dissed all the producers? This song is called "My Beat," where I made my own beat. I was like, "I'm tired of producers trying to charge me a whole bunch of money for tracks, so I made my own beat, and I'm going to rap over it."

AVC: That isn't on the record, is it?

RF: Nah, this is something I did. The beat's kinda wack, 'cause I made it. "All lot of people trying to gouge me on beats and tracks and features / you know who you are / we started with open budget / and they thought it was open season on Rhymefest / So I'm going to tell you exactly who it is that you shouldn't fuck with / I made my own track, man, check it out…" And then I go on to be like, "Yeah, Dr. Dre, you wanna to do beats for me now, fuck that, it's too late, the album's done. And ?uestlove, you wanna play drums while Rahzel play the guitar? Nah, fuck y'all, my album done, y'all never charge me."

Number one, I'm tired of producers running up on me with CDs with beats. That ain't how you make music. Quincy Jones didn't run up on Michael Jackson and be like, "Yeah, I got this beat for this song called 'Thriller'!" They sat in the studio, and he was like "Hmm hmm, girl," and Quincy was like, "Oh, hold on, I'll clear this shit." That's how you make music. That is how I made my album, with producers in the studio with ideas. I got Cool & Dre, Kanye West, No I.D. basically produced it, Mark Ronson, all making music. This is not a compilation record or a mix-tape. This is an album. Why should people buy Blue Collar? Because it's balanced, it's refreshing, it's music, it's entertainment, and it's a message of substance. I feel like producers sometimes get over easy. But the reason I made my own beat is because I knew it wouldn't be that great, and it showed that artists need producers too. It's kind of cynical on me. Joke's on me at the end—it ain't a hit record. It's kind of like I'm also saying even though I'm talking all this shit, at the end of the day, Nas needed Premier, Q-Tip, and all those people that helped do Illmatic. Jay-Z needed Kanye to help him do The Blueprint. You need producers—but I'm also saying, don't give me a CD with a track on it, and I rap over it, and they be like "That'll be $50,000."

AVC: How does Chicago affect how you write?

RF: I think Chicago is not a sound. Everyone asks about "the Chicago sound," but no one can really describe it. Because there is no sound. This is not like Atlanta, where you got crunk music. This is not the Bay Area, where you got hype music. This is Chicago, where it's a soulful sensibility. That's what music is like. This is the home of the blues. This is the house of house music… When you ask "Where does the writing style come from?", you have so much to choose from in Chicago. You have neighborhoods—Chicago is one of the most segregated cities in the world, and I have been around the world, so I can say this from experience. You go to Indianapolis, Indiana, where the Klan formed, and you go through neighborhoods, and you see black people, white people, and everyone is living together. You come to Chicago, and here I am, I have a Grammy, and I walk across the street and I hear [car] doors lock… This is that place, where there's hate and love and everything in between. This is the middle, so you get everything here.

AVC: Is that why Chicago has become a center of socially conscious rap, like Common, Kanye, Diverse, and Psalm One?

RF: I do feel as though Chicago is not just conscious. You're leaving out Twista, Crucial Conflict, Do Or Die. Like I said, it's a sensibility. Even Da Brat is from Chicago. I feel as though everyone doesn't have to be that. But what Chicago is doing is, it has a flag in the ground for hip-hop. You have to have a certain standard to even break out from here, and even the ones you say "That ain't my kind of music," you can't say they're wack. They rap good. So Chicago, in my opinion, the artists, we are the last stand of hip-hop in the world, and I been around the world, so I can say that. You gotta talk about something. It has to have some type of substance, and that's what we stuck to. Chicago rap was no lie. Some Chicago rappers, that's their downfall. They concentrate too hard on their pain and their struggle, and not on the triumph that comes out of it. But that's what we are: We're soulful people.

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