Photos courtesy of Alexander Richter http://www.alexanderrichterphoto.com
New York City is a Chimera, an ever-shifting beast that repeatedly defies conventional wisdom. It was only twenty-five years ago that Central Park was considered dangerous and rents on the Upper West Side, reasonable. In the early 90’s, Alphabet City was known for tenacious squatters and a thriving heroin trade, now it’s a slightly cheaper extension of the tony East Village. I still remember when white friends who came to visit me in Harlem were assured of being stopped by police, questioned and inevitably warned against violating the unspoken Apartheid. Nowadays, if you throw a stone in Harlem, you will hit a brand-new condo and the last time I got off the train at 125th street, there were more white people exiting the cars than black. New York is ever changing, except for Brownsville, Brooklyn.
Brownsville has been a slum, it seems, since time immemorial. The cast of
characters has changed, after all it was as a Jewish neighborhood that Brownville acquired its reputation as a poverty-stricken haven for crime. But it’s a reputation that, unfortunately, has stuck with this lonely square mile on the outskirts of Brooklyn regardless of the inhabitants’ ethnicity. Brownsville’s physical isolation is perhaps the key factor in its marginalization. Marooned far from the city center and resulting economic opportunities, the neighborhood is home to the highest concentration of New York City housing projects in the entire city. Out of sight, out of mind.
Steel sharpens steel. Mash Out Posse. The Gza. Sean Price. Masta Ace. Killah
Priest. Buckshot. Thirstin Howl III. The Rza. Smif N Wessun. Brownsville might be better known as a breeding ground for great boxers (Mike Tyson, Riddick Bowe, Zab Judah) but it has also nurtured the talents of some legendary rappers. In the wake of his tightly wound sophomore album, Grief Pedigree, you can add KA to that list. His monotone delivery might welcome comparisons to the Gza, but KA’s strength lies not in storytelling but in his penchant for subtlety. From the homemade black-and-white music videos that preceded Grief Pedigree’s release, to the album’s spartan production, KA’s aesthetic is an exercise in minimalism. His lyrics seem simple; short, declarative sentences, unadorned expressions that recall the taciturn
pen of Cormac McCarthy, but echo through the subconscious for days, weeks even.
From doing all the beats, to the fact that you shot your own videos and then to top it all off, sold all the music directly, it’s pretty obvious that Grief Pedigree was very much a DIY thing. Was there a particular reason for that?
Yeah. I wanted it to be all me. It’s a very personal [album] and I wanted to do it the way I wanted to do it. I know my sound aint really the sound that’s on the radio, so as far as distribution, if I don’t distribute it, nobody is gonna get it, y’know?
Yeah, but still, you could have probably gone the route of a guy like Roc Marciano; he did Marcberg on Fat Beats. There are other examples of indie distribution successes with projects that are definitely not tailored for the radio. Unless you are saying you don’t think you could get into those types of places either.
Yeah, I wasn’t making the kind of noise that a lot of those artists get. Nowadays the question is, “how much did you sell of the last one?” I didn’t sell Iron Works. I gave it away. I did Iron Works just to give it to my friends because I was quitting. All those years I was telling them, I’m going to the studio, going to the studio. Then all of a sudden I quit and they was like, what happened to all them years you was going to the studio and you got nothing to show. So I did I just to have something to give to my peoples. I had no past record of sales.
With this one, I don’t know if you know the whole story; one of my friends gave Iron Works to the Gza and Gza let me rock on his track, and that kinda propelled what I’m doing now. I was getting a good response but there were also people shitting on “Firehouse” [his track on Gza’s Pro Tools], kids were calling me all types of trash [laughs]. I started building with Roc Marc, I was really inspired by the Marcberg album, he put me on there as the only feature. I felt good about that. It was really an honor. I liked that sound, that New York sound he captured [with Marcberg] and I wanted Grief Pedigree to be my contribution.
So you were going to quit when you put out Iron Works. Why?
Well, there were many reasons. It took a lot of support from my family and friends, who said, don’t let something you love be judged by your age. This rapping shit is kinda the only genre where your age is actually [an obstacle], in jazz you could do it till you’re dead. So, I was like yo, let me go pursue my life, this is a dream I had for a long time, I been rapping since I was twelve years old. I had opportunities that never panned out, maybe I wasn’t that good when I was younger, y’know? I did it, I got it out of my system, I put this album out and now I’m gonna go pursue my life and try to be a good man.
That’s ironic because one of our writers recently did a piece about how many “new” rap artists are 30-plus and making extremely forward thinking, relevant music right now. Obviously, he isn’t talking about cats like Nas and Jay, who have already been fixtures on the scene for a long time. More along the lines of Danny Brown, Open Mike Eagle, have you heard of Shabazz Palaces?
Yeah but he been out already. That’s Butterfly…
No, I know, but still, someone could say the same thing about you. You were down with Natural Elements, who at one time were a pretty well known collective, but when that was a long time ago. I think his point still stands in the sense that, it’s new to hip-hop that someone who was in a group that was popular fifteen years ago, gets a second or third act in their career. When I was coming up, when cats like D-Nice, Special Ed, Tim Dog or MC Lyte faded off the scene, they were gone for good, basically.
Yo, I love the stuff I hear from these young rappers. I love that shit but it aint me and I don’t want to hear that all day long. I want to hear the perspective of an older man. So as far as me being an older cat, I don’t need you telling me what to do, I don’t need you controlling me. Nah, I’m not doing that shit, I don’t need a hook on that song [laughs]. And I’m comfortable in what I’m doing, where I’ve got a job, I don’t have to eat off this art. I don’t have those pressures.
It’s also interesting because although people talk about it being a “real New York” rap album, what you are doing is still really different from what we came up on. I mean, the vibe is there but it’s not like those beats sound like what was hot in ’95 either.
Thank you. Look, I love ’95, if I want to listen to ’95, I’ll pop in some ’95 shit [laughs]. Although I am from that time and lived through it to where I can speak on those tales, but in ’95 there were younger guys doing it. The Mobb Deep’s, Nas’, those guys were in their twenties, at most. This, this is an older dude’s perspective. Talk to a twenty-year old and talk to a forty-year old, it’s a whole different conversation, y’know? I’m gonna give it to you from my years of experience. I couldn’t do that; I didn’t want to do that. ’95 was already done and done to the fullest as far as I’m concerned.
So, would I be correct in surmising that what prevented you from quitting, was the Gza hitting you up to do “Firehouse”?
I would say that that was the spark, you know? Gza is one of the greatest lyricists ever to put pen to paper, so that was a big honor for me.
So, if “Firehouse” was the spark, what got the fire roaring?
What happened after that was I liked how “Firehouse” sounded, so I asked who did the beat and they told me Roc Marcy. I was like, these are the type of beats I need to be rhyming over and I found a way to get in touch with somebody who got in touch with him and it started clicking. I knew who he was from that U.N. album, I remembered that album and thinking “one of these dudes is special” and he was the special one…
How much of Metal Clergy [Ka’s collaborative album with Roc Marciano] is done?
Seventy percent. Roc says about seventy percent; I would say eighty [laughs].
Can you tell me anything else about the record?
It’s supposed to be a display of our chemistry. I don’t want to give too much away…it’s two MC’s that love the art, that have been doing it for a while, who felt like we could get together and do something really monumental. I don’t really like talking about records though; I like them to speak for themselves.
What’s your favorite line on Grief Pedigree?
Aw man, that’s like asking me which of my children is my favorite. All of them, they all mean so much to me! Let me put it this way, whatever line you responded to the most, that’s my favorite one.
Well, how about this then; are there any things you wrote where you felt as though you weren’t sure anyone would get it but you?
See, I hide so much shit in my writing. I hide a lot of shit because I don’t want you to get it on the first listen. I want you to get it one day when you cleaning the house and then say “Wait, what the fuck did he just say”? Certain shit I cover up, I hide it. I aint gonna lie to you, there are certain…even though it’s eleven songs on the album, twelve on the vinyl, there were certain songs dealing with something where when I wrote it, I was giggling like oh, my god [laughs]. Not even just feeling myself, but as a listener, because I was a listener the first time I heard it come out my own mouth. How old are you?
I’m 35
Thirty-five? Okay, see, your ear is sophisticated because you came from a time of lyrics. Not to diss a twenty-five year old, but he didn’t come from a time of lyrics so his ear is not honed to pick up slick shit. Now, I’m thirty-nine, about to be forty. I know when I wrote something that’s fucking cold, I know! And people don’t [hear it], I know because I’m seeing it. I’m on twitter and nobody’s picked that line yet or people are hitting me up and they are picking up on surface lines [laughs]
So, what are some of the differences, in your opinion, between Iron Works and Grief Pedigree? Are there any ways in which you think the former is better than the latter, or just significantly different?
Well, it’s like picking favorites between your kids…
Not necessarily a “favorite” though, more so that you might say well this kid is rambunctious, he always gets into things and this kid is quiet but once you get to know him, he’s smart.
I love Iron Works because that was my first solo project and it was supposed to be my last solo project. That was supposed to be the end all, so…I spilled pints on that shit. I really love it. I know people weren’t feeling some of the production but to me, it fit what I was trying to do. Even some of my friends were like “its dope” but they didn’t really have the time to sit through it. Iron takes more listens, that’s the shy kid where you gonna have to play with him for a while before he comes out of his shell. Grief Pedigree has a few joints that are more welcoming, you know, more traditional hip-hop sound on the first listen. “Chamber” sounds like hip-hop, if that makes any sense. That was to let you know that this was a hip-hop album, this wasn’t just a lyricist saying “Just listen to my lyrics, don’t worry about the music”
So, going into your next solo project, is that something where you see yourself handling all the production again?
My next solo…I’m already a couple tracks in [laughs]. I’m open to other producers but the thing is, honestly, I don’t got to fight with myself to get myself to do that shit. Other producers you have to wait for them to send you the beats.
If you had to work with an outside producer, there has to be someone you would be excited to do something with?
It’s a boring answer, but I’d like to do an album fully produced by Roc Marcy. That’s my brother, he knows my sound. I know when he sends me a joint and says “Yo, I got something for you”, it’s usually crack. Not trying to downplay other producers, there are some really dope producers; I’m not knocking anyone.
Thinking back to how long you’ve been in the game, your days with Natural Elements and so on, do you feel like you are at your creative peak? And adding onto that, if you could go back and tell your younger self something that you know now, what would it be?
First part, no, I don’t think I am at my creative peak. Now, as the artist that I am right now, I know experience makes me better. So, the more experience I have, the more I will be able to focus, the more material I have to pull from. I’m still living a regular life, know what I mean, I like that. I go to work, come home. I’m around. I’m still in the hood. So, no I don’t think I am at my creative peak, I feel like I found…
Well, obviously you feel like you are better than you were in the Natural Elements days…
Natural Elements, I know I was the wack one! I know that. That’s why I had to pull away from shit because I was bringing them boys down. Those boys were talented, man. L-Swift was a prodigy, damn near. A child prodigy. Sixteen years old. The only unsigned artist to get a Source quotable, man. They were talented and I was just there trying to do my little rhymes. If I had to do it again, I would curb my style, tone it down a little bit. I always had the raspy voice but now, knowing what I know, I wouldn’t be screaming incoherently, rushing a lot of bars, trying to fill up bars with lines just to sound good. Nah, get your point across! Now I know that, that’s where I’m at, I like that pocket.
That makes me think of the Gza line “weak rhymes that’s mad long/make it brief son/half short/twice strong”. It definitely fits you because the entire aesthetic of Grief Pedigree is very minimalist, the beats and the rapping…
That is a great Gza line. I do that. I had to make sure that I was the last instrument on those beats. None of my beats are complete until I get on it; know what I’m saying? That’s where I’m at and that’s another reason why I sometimes don’t work with outside producers because the beat might be ill but it’s done already. I make my beats and I know they aint done until I get on them.
Where did you get the inspiration to post up outside of what used to be Fat Beats for your release date?
It was New York hip-hop nostalgia. This is what cats used to do. Post up in front of Fat Beats, all the hip-hop spots, ask you if you like Hip Hop. I’m not about to ask strangers if they want to buy my album, I’m not that type of guy but I liked the idea of being out there and meeting these fans face-to-face. I wanted to give people pounds and hugs for coming to support me, give them an opportunity to get the physical without Pay Pal and all that. They thanking me for the album, I’m thanking them for the support. That was also a central location, a safer place for people to meet. I always wanted to have my music in Fat Beats too. Iron Works was never in any stores, so it was like “I’m here now. I took the scenic route but I’m here now”.
Going back to the DIY nature of everything, how did the videos end up happening? And what was the whole process of figuring out you wanted to do them and then actually making it happen? Had you ever done anything like that before?
I knew I needed visuals because I know my sound is…you really have to pay attention. If you just tell people, you gotta really listen to it, you gotta listen to it; you can’t get people to listen. So, instead you give them a visual. You send the link to the video and they sit down and watch it a couple times, then they are like, oh that shit was straight. So, I went around asking and everything was coming back real, real expensive. Some dude came back saying thirty thousand…
Hold on, how much?
Thirty thousand to do my video [laughs]. My lady, who is my biggest supporter, said she had a camera; just a regular camera but it had a record function too. So, we decided fuck it, let’s shoot our own video. Shot the footage, uploaded it to iMovie and edited it, first song I did was “Cold Facts”. Threw it up on You Tube and right now it’s up to like 30, 000 views.
RR
