Common

Photo: Brian Bowen Smith

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Common Opens Up About 'A Beautiful Revolution Pt. 2,' Social Justice In The Mainstream & The Unceasing Spirit Of J Dilla

These days, Common is visible and praised for a variety of extramusical things, like acting, writing and philanthropy. But his new album, 'A Beautiful Revolution Pt. 2' shows he's still as razor-sharp an MC as ever

Morgan Enos

GRAMMYs

Sep 13, 2021 - 1:45 pm

More than a year after the murder of George Floyd, social justice has perforated the mainstream like never before. It's on our bookshelves and shop windows; corporate America hires diversity, equity and inclusion (DEI) officers; media representation has taken center stage. This might spark suspicion: Where was the POC hiring spree before an innocent man was murdered in public?

But to Common—a three-time-GRAMMY-winning conscious rapper just as famous for his music as his rallying for social equity—we need not assume the worst of people; it's just human nature. Sure, those posting slogans so as not to get yelled at will always exist, but sometimes it takes global trauma for people with busy schedules to open their eyes and take notice.

"Everyone was going about their business, and I've been one who went out about my business," Common tells GRAMMY.com over the phone. "But when things get drastic, sometimes you pay attention to it: 'Man, this can't happen. This is not good. This is inhumane.' The inhumanity of what people saw last year has changed people's thoughts." You can't say we don't live in a different world now, and it all started from within—which Common's new album is all about.

A Beautiful Revolution Pt. 2—which follows 2020's Pt. 1 and just arrived September 10—inverts the purview of its call-to-arms predecessor, homing in on how external change flows from within. This understanding permeates its best tunes, like "When We Move," "Set It Free" and "Star Of The Gang."

When he recently performed the former song on "The Tonight Show Starring Jimmy Fallon" with Black Thought and Seun Kuti, an infectious sense of brotherhood radiated through the TV screen. And it's that spirit of conciliation, he says—not yelling and screaming—that will catalyze true change.

Read on for an in-depth interview with Common about how he learned to freestyle, the humanistic vision behind A Beautiful Revolution Pt. 2 and how he keeps J Dilla's spirit aflame every day.

This interview has been lightly edited and condensed for clarity.

Nice to meet you, Common. How are you feeling?

I'm just really inspired and feeling happy and excited about the new album. I just did an L.A. Leakers freestyle on their station. You've got to check it out if you get a chance. It's these DJs and they call themselves the L.A. Leakers. They have a segment where they have people come through and do freestyles. It's getting a lot of buzz, so I'm happy. I'm getting a lot of good calls from friends at home.

There's nothing like when your friends that you grew up with get inspired and sparked about what you're doing. It's a good feeling.

Do you remember when you learned to freestyle? How did you train your brain in that way?

I don't know if it was training. I guess there's a practice to it, but I really just dove into it and started doing it and realized it's something I love to do and fun in the way it made me and my friends feel—people that were around.

I was actually thinking about it the other day: "When did I start actually freestyling?" I don't know the actual time period, but I do remember being in gym class in high school—probably around my sophomore year—and freestyling with one of my classmates and friends who used to beatbox good. He would always have songs and ideas that were real vulgar. I would kick these other rhymes—and I would say some wild stuff too, sometimes—but it was just fun.

That's when I remember actually freestyling more and more. My name is Rashid, so they'd say, "Rashid, kick a freestyle!" I would get into it, and they'd freestyle with me. That's when I started working on the craft. I don't remember where and when it started.

I imagine it's like unlocking part of your brain, or stopping the overthinking part.

The word "free" is in it because you truly have to have a free mind and spirit to do it. I've been around people who aren't super-great rappers, but they're great freestylers because they're able to be spontaneous and say fun things and not take themselves too seriously.

I think that was one of the things for me: Understanding that it's OK to mess up. It's OK that it's not perfect. It's OK to have a couple of bars that ain't as dope as the other ones. There's a freedom in letting go and letting your thoughts come out and express yourself in that raw [form]. You don't have a lot of time to think.

Honestly, the things we love about certain aspects of music: James Brown and those guys, some of that was just the feeling of the music. They were playing it and taking in what was in the moment. One of my favorite artists, John Coltrane—what he's doing is improvising in certain moments and just playing what comes to him and what he feels.

I think that's what great vocalists do. Ultimately, that's what freestyling is. It's a feeling.

Now that you mention it, I imagine the roots of freestyling go back to early American folk and work songs—extemporaneous vocalizations.

Yeah! Now that we're talking about it, it's funny: You're making me want to think about "When did people start coming up with songs right on the spot?"

It is something you see artists in other genres of music do sometimes. PJ, who I worked with on this new album—she worked with me on A Beautiful Revolution Pt. 1—I've never seen a vocalist come up with so many songs in a moment. She basically could be a cypher, freestyling. She has that type of ability.

I definitely see people in other genres. I've seen Erykah Badu do it at a performance, but she also raps, too. Erykah can rap. I think PJ can, too. In this era, I think people who do it have some sort of hip-hop connection.

Before we dive into the new album, I've got to ask: Who do you think is the greatest freestyle rapper of all time?

[Considers the question carefully.] I actually think that Lupe Fiasco is up there.

Oh, wow.

Because I heard him freestyling and I was like, "Yo, this dude is incredible." It's really special what he was doing. I think he's one of the greatest freestylers I've ever heard.

Is the magic of a master freestyler the idea that they can spill out something that seems carefully written? Or does it have more to do with a raw, rough-and-tumble quality that can't be preconceived?

I think it's saying something where it's like "Man, did he write that?" The rawness is going to be there.

And let's be clear: If we're talking about freestyling in front of a crowd, you want to keep it simple. You want to have something that people can hear. You don't want to go over their heads. But if you're doing it for a radio show or something, you want to have some lines in there because people are going to go back and listen. People that love hip-hop study lyrics. They listen to the lyrics and play it again and say, "What did he say here? What did he say there?"

To me, the highest level of freestyling is being able to not only have the raw element but be able to say something clever where they can feel like, "Damn! How did you come up with that with a nice simile or a good metaphor within the freestyle?" I've been around people who can kick a story in a freestyle, which is amazing.

Even though you've been doing this forever, do you feel like you have a ways to go as a freestyle rapper?

Bro, I definitely feel like I could get better. I have a ways to go. I know that I could get better. I want to evolve and grow and expand. I want to do that only as a freestyle rapper, but as a writer, as an artist, as a musician. I just want to grow.

Let's face it: No artist and musician—or human being, for that matter—has reached perfection. You might have some really divine moments where the song is just exceptional and incredible, but you still get better from there. That's what's inspiring me, to be honest, as a musician and artist: "I could do better." There are things I don't know in music, obviously. There are things that I'm learning and places I haven't gone musically.

Listen Up: From Aretha Franklin To Public Enemy, Here's How Artists Have Amplified Social Justice Movements Through Music

As I listened to the new album, I mulled over the word "revolution." We hear it all the time these days, as well as similar ones like "reckoning," but it's been commodified and commercialized over the decades. What does it connote to you right now?

I think it means radical change. That was a word that always stuck with me. It's a go-to saying for me: "It's a revolution."

I heard the song "The Revolution Will Not Be Televised" when I was young. One of my best friends used to play it. Even though I didn't know everything Gil Scott-Heron was talking about, I heard the word. Basically, as I started to discover Bob Marley and KRS-One and Public Enemy, my interpretation of "revolution" began to expand and I started to discover what it meant to me at that time, or what they may have meant by it.

My definition of a revolution has now opened up even more because I used to think of the revolt aspect of revolution. The overthrowing of systems and things that have not been beneficial to people—the people. To Black people. To brown people. I thought about overthrowing and changing those systems. But the more I started to learn things about life, I started to understand that a revolution was even beyond that.

To be really clear with you, I even thought of using the title A Beautiful Revolution because one of my heroes, a woman named Assata Shakur who was a Black Panther and was exiled in Cuba, had a quote about how revolution is love and treating your partner well. Revolution is honoring yourself. She was saying all these beautiful things.

At one point, she said "Revolution has beauty in it." I was like, "Ah, yes! Yes! Yes!" It's still a radical change for me, but the radical change may be the way I treat myself. Changing the way I approach my mornings. Changing the ways that I talk to my daughter or listen to her. Changing the way I think about my diet.

I think about revolution now not only as "We've got to dethrone the system!" It's more like, "Man, how did that change happen within me, within myself? How do I issue that change to other people—people close to me and strangers?" That's what makes revolution palatable and valuable for me now. That's what my definition of it is right now.

You're interested in internal revolution first. Perhaps cleaning your yard before you offer to clean your neighbor's.

Yes. Within this project, A Beautiful Revolution Pt. 2, I felt like that was the mission. The intention is to put out energy that's like, "What's love? What's self-empowerment? Where can we find joy? How do we create hope for ourselves in times where things have been difficult?"

There's been a lot of hurt out there. There's been a lot of loss and a lot of the unknown. A lot of change for us. But I still believe in the power of human beings and the power of God. We can be positive and put good things out there and create happier days and times.

It starts inside. There could be a lot of things going on outside and, depending on how I approach them and look at them and receive them, it'll determine the way I look at them and what my mind-state is. I'm talking about the internal revolution first and then looking outside and seeing what we could do to change them.

Can I get your opinion on how social justice has perforated the mainstream lately?

There's definitely a commercialization of social justice out there. A lot of companies we see are making it like that's what they're about and that wasn't what they were about two years ago, three years ago, or 10 years ago.

But you know what? I feel like it's OK. Because I would rather you start doing some things, even though it's not for the right reason at first. If you're helping some people, it's still healthy and you're benefiting some lives. In the course of that, you will feel like "Man, this is the right thing to do." Maybe it becomes more of a practice.

I don't know if you've ever heard the saying "Fake it 'til you make it"? People will tell you, "Man, just say you're great until you become great." I don't mean you don't put in the work until you get there, but I'm saying it's a great step if people are even putting it out there. I see Black women in a lot of commercials now. Or kids getting opportunities in Hollywood. Film studios are like, "We've got to get some Black creators in this, and brown creators and people of color and women."

Even if, at the beginning of it, it was just because they got forced to do it and there was a society-wide wave going on, it's still a good wave. This can actually benefit us. And the more we do it, it becomes who we are—a reality to us. You also, by doing it, are going to invite and attract people who are sincere about it. They can help change the real scope of it.

After George Floyd was killed, I had a director I worked with on a commercial call me. He said, "Man, listen: I own one of the biggest commercial studios in the country. Do you know any young Black directors that I can help develop? Even if they haven't directed commercials, do you know anybody?" And I gave him a list of some people.

I don't know if he used the people I knew, but he found some directors and got them working. To me, that was a sincere thing. He used the platform that he had and really had been affected enough to say, "This is how I'm contributing to bettering the world and changing things. I have power and I have this privilege and I've been paying attention, so I'm going to do it now."

My long answer to that is: Yes, social justice has been commercialized, and giving Black people a fair shake, that's been part of the wave. But I think it's a great wave and it can become part of the DNA of our society at some point, the more we do it. I'm happy to see the opportunities coming.

While what your friend did is beautiful and commendable, stories like that can also invite cynical readings: "Why weren't those opportunities being extended back when an innocent man wasn't being slaughtered on the news?"

Well, listen, listen. Let's face it. I've been guilty of this too. There are certain things that go on in the world that we just don't pay attention to. Some of the struggles that Black people have been experiencing in this country, some people didn't pay attention to.

Man, the life of George Floyd is something special. To many, he was an average human being, but him losing his life in the way he did really opened a lot of people's eyes. It really changed things. Some people, by seeing that—years ago, like I said, they weren't on that. They weren't thinking. Everyone was going about their business, and I've been one who went about my business.

I was doing work for a lot of inner-city youth and Black people, but there were issues going on that I may not have paid attention to. But when things get drastic, sometimes you pay attention to it: "Man, this can't happen. This is not good. This is inhumane." The inhumanity of what people saw last year has changed people's thoughts.

That's a really compassionate take on it. It's just human nature: We're busy. We can't grasp all the ills in the world at the same time. What I'm getting from what you're saying is that it's OK to respond to a stimulus. It doesn't make you a bandwagon-jumper, necessarily.

It is. If you're doing it from the intention of "Listen, I've got to do this because it's for my business. This business has to work and if I don't say anything about Black people at this point, our business will fall," the truth will come out at some point and it won't last long what you're doing. It will be revealed at some point.

But it's OK to be like, "I didn't even know much about this struggle, but now I'm seeing this has changed me." To be honest, that's what life offers you. Life gives you that gift, in a way. People don't need to lose their lives for certain experiences to change us, but that's what happened, in many ways. If somebody says "Man, I didn't know anything about this and I didn't care and was just going about my business but now I do," I respect 'em because we're all human.

There was a time I was sitting there doing a documentary on Black America and this author was like, "Man, do you ever think about the plight of women?" I was like, "Man, I talk about it sometimes, but I haven't been involved in the fight in a way I could be!" It was a wake-up call.

So, my point is: We all sometimes need to be awakened to things going on with other peoples' struggles. There's somewhere in my humanity where I say "If there's something to contribute towards helping this cause, I'm going to do it."

Let's talk about the new album a little bit. What did you feel you wanted to say with A Beautiful Revolution Pt. 2, that you didn't necessarily get to on Pt. 1? Or is it all kind of one thing, just divided in half?

I think, on Pt. 2, I got to look at the hopeful side of the struggle. Pt. 1 was written while we were dealing with the deaths of George Floyd and Breonna Taylor. The election was going on. There was a lot of dissension and conflict and hurt and angst and it was a charged era. I consider that music movement music.

But Pt. 2 is, "What is the next step in the revolution?" As you spoke to earlier, I said, "You know, we use that word a lot, but what's the next step in it? What's the progression in the revolution?" In Pt. 2, I felt like I was saying, "Man, having a good time is the revolution." That's part of the revolution, to find places where you enjoy life. Also, giving yourself self-love is a revolution.

That's why, in this song I've got called "Set it Free," I'm telling a woman, "Don't let anybody—this guy—determine your happiness. You create that and then you can bring your happiness to them. But don't let somebody else outside of you determine your happiness. You've got it in you."

Common. Photo: Brian Bowen Smith

Is there a part in revolution where we may have to interact with or even dignify people whose views we find reprehensible? We're in the era of "distancing yourself" from others, but I have my doubts about that. You may have to have a heart-to-heart with them.

Man, you and I think alike in certain ways. I truly believe that people who think like me—or may think the total opposite—I still don't mind sitting down and dealing with them. I like to deal with them. And we might come out still not agreeing, but I heard you, you heard me. It gives you a better understanding, and hopefully gives room for me to be me and you to be you.

Now, if the person is consistently not going to listen or give you the time of day, at a certain point, you've got to make a choice. Like, "Man, this ain't going nowhere. I've sat down with this person five times. I've sat down with this organization five times."

But otherwise, I remember being on the campaign trail doing some canvassing. We were in Jacksonville and there was this woman hollering out how she was basically pro-Trump. I went over there and talked to her. She was talking about abortion and how she'd never vote Democrat. I was just listening to her, and I didn't even try to convince her too much. I was just trying to be respectful and nice to her.

I think one of the things we overlook is just listening to the other side or somebody who doesn't think like you. Just listening to them is something. It's paying respect. It's necessary. I believe heart-to-hearts are necessary. That's where growth comes in. If I sit down with people who always think like me, I'm not even learning anything new!

And the change I want to see: I ain't changing them. The church members who need to hear the preacher are the people in the streets. Now, I'm using church as a metaphor, but I think the real messages should go out into the hoods and places where people don't want to hear what you're talking about. You hear them out and you give them [a new way] to think about things.

If you want to change people's hearts, the worst possible way is to insult them and call them names. They'll never listen to you after that.

That never works for anybody. It takes some work because we all have feelings. If our feelings are hurt and somebody says something or we feel emotional about something, we want to spew out what we feel. I'm saying that to say: You've got to be slow to anger.

If you want to get a point across, you're never heard when you're yelling at someone. The person you're yelling at won't respond, "Oh, man, I actually hear you. That was powerful what you said. I receive your message," because they've been screamed at. How can they receive it if you're screaming at them? You're already attacking them. Anyone who's being attacked is going to defend themselves in some way.

On the topic of community and connection, tell me what you appreciate about your collaborators on A Beautiful Revolution Pt. 2—their individual artistic voices and what they brought to the table.

Well, Brittany Howard is one of the most gifted, individualistic, talented and true-to-her-artistic-tastes artists that I've been able to be around or even, honestly, listen to. She knows what her voice is and ain't going to let that be diluted.

She's so true to what she believes is quality. When we did the song "Saving Grace," she was like, "This is what grace is to me." We talked it through and worked through some more ideas. I was like, "I want to say something about grace," and she was talking to me about how grace is power. I was like, "Keep that part. Just make sure grace is in there. That's what I want the song to be about." Her perspective needed to be heard. I really appreciated it and think it's super dope.

Man, I love her. And then Marcus King is so soulful. What he brought to the song "Poetry" was grit. We wanted to feel like somebody was sitting on the porch singing, and he did that. I just love his music and think he's a really special vocalist.

PJ is featured on a lot of songs. As I mentioned earlier, she's one of the dopest songwriters and one of the most stylish vocalists I've been around. The way she styles with her vocals is just unique and fresh. She can do a lot of different things.

Then: Black Thought! Black Thought is one of the most prolific and incredible MCs to ever exist. He's been an inspiration for me forever. I've worked with him forever. But when I heard the song "When We Move," I was like, "I wanted something that sounds like a Fela Kuti kind of hook." Black Thought introduced me to Fela Kuti's music back in '96.

So I was like, "Man, Tariq, can you give me a hook? I want to talk about how we move—the way we as Black people move. I want to celebrate our Blackness and the influence we've had on the planet." He came in with that hook and he brought Seun Kuti to the table, who is Fela's son. It tied everything together and also made it international to me. It made it a global-sounding song to me. I was geeked about it—excited!

And then the poets I have—Jessica Care Moore and Morgan Parker—I mean, they're incredible writers. The poem at the beginning, "Push Out the Noise," says so much. We had a conversation and I was telling her about how this album is about being still and what I've found in that stillness. What I found is the joy and happiness and power within me and different things that are positive for me in being quiet. She took that and wrote a beautiful piece.

Morgan Parker's the poet who ended the album. She's an inspiration to me because I read her poetry and then I want to go write. I love poets who do that for me, like James Baldwin, Langston Hughes, Nikki Giovanni or Dr. Maya Angelou.

Those are some of the collaborators, and I've got to give it up for the collaborators who produced it. Karriem Riggins produced this album and it's co-produced by Isaiah Sharkey, who plays guitar and other instruments and is one of the [greatest] cats around. He's from Chicago. Boom Bishop is the bass player, who also came up with some of the tunes.

Collaborating with him, I feel like the music goes to so many places, and this album has taken me to places I've never been before musically. That feels incredible for me, because I've been making music professionally for some years now. I've never rhymed to a beat like "Get it Right" or "Set it Free" and I've definitely never rhymed to a beat like "Poetry."

I remember doing "When We Move" on "Jimmy Fallon" and Jimmy was like, "What sample is that?" I was like, "That's not a sample, man! Those cats are playing that!"

Speaking of: How did it feel to play on "The Tonight Show"? That must have been like a family reunion since you've worked with the Roots and Soulquarians so much.

Dude, that was so much fun, man. I was so excited. The Roots are my family and Black Thought is my brother, man. I love him. We wanted to present something that was fresh. We videoed Seun Kuti in Nigeria. We also had a director work on some visuals for us.

I felt like we were rocking that joint. I felt excited to be there. I think you can see the excitement on my face. My mother was like, "Man, that song is incredible! You rocked that!" so it's always good to have a little love from Mom.

I've been revisiting Like Water For Chocolate, which turned 20 last year. When you think of those times, what immediately comes to mind?

Being around some of the greatest musicians and artists that the planet has ever seen. D'Angelo is timeless and incredible. Erykah Badu. Questlove is a genius. We see that not only with his music, but the movie Summer of Soul is a masterpiece, man. Being able to go from one studio and work with Mos Def to working with Bilal, and then Jill Scott coming to rock with us. Talib [Kweli] had been around; Dave Chapelle came through the studio, just hanging out.

Everybody loved J Dilla and wanted him [to participate]. He was in Detroit, so he would come out to work with us. Electric Lady was the place we worked, and then I just remember flying out to Detroit and creating with Dilla—really developing a sound that was inspired by Fela Kuti and Slum Village. I came up with my own thing, but these producers gave me the best music.

We were going to do a 20-year celebration, but things couldn't happen with that. So I'm grateful that that album exists. Some people come to me and be like, "Like Water For Chocolate is my favorite of your albums!" and a lot of musicians who play say, "Man, I was digging into that album."

And that's one of the things I want to say: I'm a hip-hop artist, but I'm also a musician. I don't really play any instrument at a professional level yet, but the point is, I love when musicians tell me they love my music.

Can you reflect on J Dilla a little bit? I'm sure he still feels like a presence in your life.

J Dilla will always have a presence in my life. He was the most gifted musician that I had worked with. His music hit people in ways I had never seen music influence. People reacted to him. I walked into a studio with J Dilla and Pharrell got down on his knees and was like, bowing down to him: "You the god!" James Poyser, Questlove and D'Angelo used to call him "the god": "That's the god right there!"

And his spirit: He was a good dude, man. He was dynamic, meaning he was a Detroit dude who entertained and drove around in a Range Rover. But he was sampling Gentle Giant and Herbie Hancock and Dave Brubeck. He was so, so musically gifted and just a wonderful friend in his soul.

I love him and will keep his presence. It's around. It's here. It will continue to impact me. At times, I feel that presence influencing and inspiring me and I'm grateful for it.

Do you feel that your best work is ahead of you?

Yes. Yes. I do feel my best work is ahead of me. I feel that I'm learning more and more about music and life, and that's allowing me to be my highest self and creative self.

Common Tells The Stories Behind 'Like Water For Chocolate' For Its 20th Anniversary

Grammys Newsletter

Childish Major

Photo: Al Pham

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Childish Major On George Floyd, The Essence Of Atlanta Hip-Hop & His New Project 'Thank You, God. For It All.'

Childish Major wanted to release new music for more than a year, but the pandemic and murder of George Floyd gave him pause. But now that the world's opening up, his new project 'Thank you, God. For it all.' feels perfectly timed

Morgan Enos

GRAMMYs

Aug 9, 2021 - 10:47 am

Every member of the COVID generation probably remembers the first day they stepped outside, met up with a friend and was finally seen by someone else—not their partner or pet. Childish Major is acutely aware of this. The Atlanta MC wanted to drop new music throughout the first wave of the pandemic, but it never felt right given its extroverted, block-party energy.

Especially after the murder of George Floyd, which left him—a Black man himself—devastated.

"It was pretty dark," he tells GRAMMY.com over Zoom from his parked ride. "It put me in a position where I was like, 'What do I do? What do I need to do? How can I help?'" While he briefly considered making some music in response, the idea felt flimsy. Instead, Major opted to band together with his friends, family and colleagues in the rap game to commiserate, vent and heal.

One year after George Floyd, the world is opening up in fits and starts amid the Delta variant setback. After a period of sitting back, thinking and listening, it feels like the perfect time for Thank you, God. For it all. Brief, incisive and fat-free, the EP, which dropped July 23, features potent collaborations with Yung Baby Tate ("Check"), ScHoolboy Q ("Disrespectful") and other modern greats.

GRAMMY.com caught up with Childish Major about Thank you, God. For it all. and why it's a soundtrack to feeling yourself—in his words, "fly," "hot," and like "poppin' s***"—while cruising around the ATL.

How does it feel to have Thank you, God. For it all. dropping soon?

Man, we've been waiting for a minute to drop this project. I feel like I've made three projects, maybe, since COVID hit. We've been itching to drop something in general. This seemed like perfect timing. The music is for outside, and outside is kind of opening back up now. So, that's the energy.

Was it delayed due to the virus?

No, it wasn't pushed back due to the virus, really. In the beginning, it was more like I had music that was ready to drop. Then, COVID hit, and it was like, "OK, what do we do?" Then it's like, "OK, I'm ready to drop!" and then George Floyd happens. I'm messed up about that. I'm like, "I can't self-promote during this time." Then, I get past that to a certain extent and it's like, "Alright, now I'm ready." It just so happened to be the time that everything's opening up. It's the perfect time.

What went through your head when you saw the news about Floyd?

Ah, man. I mean, it was the news, it was conversations, it was my grandparents, family. It was pretty dark. It put me in a position where I was like, "What do I do? What do I need to do? How can I help?"

Did you feel like you wanted to respond with music in some way? Or, perhaps, with silence?

I felt like I wanted to respond with music initially, but then I felt like, "Maybe a musical response is kind of corny right now. Maybe my silence is a little bit better." Yeah, man. I just remember having a lot of conversations during that time. It was very heavy.

After all, there were already a lot of songs with titles like "Say Their Names" out there.

Yeah, you don't want to play with moments like that. It's a very serious thing. Even right now, I'm thinking about it, and that's taking me to a place where I definitely don't want to go back to.

I mean, there are people like Anderson .Paak. [He] dropped his song ["Lockdown"] and seeing the visual, man, he executed it very well and in a very respectful way. For me, it wasn't important to be seen at that moment. I was just filling it with people, honestly.

Now, we're in a different space in time. What did you want to say with this project that differed from past ones?

Well, the title itself is Thank you, God. For it all. Before thinking about the title, when I was in the music process, having conversations with Don Cannon, who was the executive producer, I was sending him what I was working on prior to this project. It's more vibey, it's moodier. It's a storyline; it's strings and poetry. It's this world that I created.

He's like, "This is dope, but I feel like we need to cut through. You make music that cuts through and grabs the attention, and then you start taking people into a world." So, that was his mindset while coaching me through this project. He started sending me production. I don't know if you've ever been to Atlanta, but it's Atlanta energy. You've got to come down one time.

When we talk about Atlanta energy, it's young. It's hot. It's being in the streets. It's being at the strip clubs. It's fly. It's riding with your top down. It's that type of energy. That's what I feel people are going to take from it. These are records people are going to listen to on the weekends. "F Yah Job," that's going to be out on Friday. Everybody's Friday is like, "Man, I'm not trying to be here right now. I'm out of the office!" You know what I'm saying?

Childish Major. Photo: Al Pham

That's the vibe of the project, but the title itself—Thank you, God. For it all.—especially from all of us coming off of COVID and the George Floyd thing, that's been my mindset and my personal mantra as far as what could get me to whatever this next step is in my life. I know a lot of people who are trying to figure out work or their living situations due to what COVID did.

Thank you, God. For it all. is like an agreement ahead of time. I'm grateful for where this is going to go, because I know it'll lead me somewhere I need to be.

Musically, what separates Atlanta hip-hop from other scenes?

Well, for one, Atlanta is a young city. It's a young Black city. And when I say "young Black city," I don't even just mean age. I feel like even older people in the city, we all talk alike. We all talk the same. There's a language. It's very Southern. It's very gritty. It's very raw.

It's suave, for lack of a better word. It's poppin' shit. When you put on a fly outfit and you look in the mirror and you're feeling yourself, that's the energy. But that's the energy of an average person in Atlanta, you know what I'm saying? Everybody is feeling themselves to a certain degree.

Especially with Instagram and all that, which usually gets a negative connotation as far as being narcissistic or conceited. But in real life, we all need confidence because that's what's going to get you to the next day.

What do you appreciate about your collaborators on this project?

Ah, man. Everybody has their own little niches, but Hollywood Cole is super diverse. He had the single "F Yah Job," which is probably the most top-down record we've got on here. But he also produced the title track, which is more boom-bap. That's what I love about Cole: That he has a lot of diversity.

Cannon is a coach, but he can play, too. You know what I'm saying? He oversaw the whole project, but then came through and gave us the record "Down South." Wavy Wallace, man, he has a lot of different styles, too, but he gave us a bop on here. DJ Mark B, well, he's a DJ, so he knows what needs to happen. He knows what's going on, so he gives us bangers every time.

I feel like some rap fans view boom-bap as being a little backward or antiquated, although it's the style I gravitate to the most.

You've got to have it. It's necessary. Even Drake without his boom-bap records, I feel like he doesn't become exactly who he is right now. I feel like it's necessary.

Sounds like it's the equivalent of the 12-bar blues in rock music. You can't stray too far from it.

Yeah, it's the core! You've got to feed the core.

"I'm grateful for where this is going to go, because I know it'll lead me somewhere I need to be."

What's the state of the rap game? Is it straying from sing-rap or mumble rap into a more traditional territory or the opposite?

Nah, it's always going to be a mixture. I feel like you always need diversity. It's necessary. Sometimes, it doesn't feel like [the deal], like "Damn, I don't like this." You just have s*** you don't like; excuse my language. But it's a necessary evil. You have to have that gauge or that range from super amazingly talented people to people who are just trying s*** and it just goes.

There are flukes all the time, but are you going to turn it into what they call 15 minutes of fame, or are you going to stretch it? And the people who want to stretch it, they'll home in on their craft a little bit more and be like, "Oh, wow! I did that on a fluke! Well, let me try to get better!" Sometimes, they turn that 15 minutes into five years.

I'm primarily in the jazz world these days, but I feel like it's the same as all scenes: There are humble, talented people and then there are opportunists. Is the rap world like that, too?

Man, the rap world is completely like that. I'd say it's more like that than in jazz. In the rap world, I've got friends whose four-year-old daughters make rap songs. And they sound good! Or good to the extent of what kids are going for, especially with TikTok and all that stuff going on right now. It's the people's music.

Olamidé On The Ascent Of Afrobeats, Supporting Newer Artists & His Subdued New Album 'UY Scuti'

Grammys Newsletter

Question

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Meet Question, A Rapper/Producer Who Doesn't Want To Be Boxed In By Blindness

People might read about Question and think of blindness as his chief attribute. Really, he's a rapper/producer coming in hot, full stop—even as he speaks out for improved accessibility in the music business

Morgan Enos

GRAMMYs

May 26, 2021 - 1:47 pm

Is blindness an obstacle? In one sense, it's indisputably true. To not be able to engage with the physical world in all its aesthetic vibrance is an incalculable loss. That said, is it only an obstacle? It doesn't have to be—and it only takes a quick Zoom call with Question to realize that sightlessness has opened up new channels of intuition and perception for him.

Despite being just 23, the rapper/producer born Isaac Malik Wilson possesses acute self-awareness. On being blind in a mostly sighted world: "Until you encounter something in the world, it's kind of hard to have knowledge on it," he tells GRAMMY.com. "I don't really fault people for that." He's been making waves in the accessibility sphere, designing audio games for the blind. To this end, he's "making the world more aware that there is a market for this type of accessibility."

But above all, Question doesn't want to be thought of as encumbered, but a musician, full stop. And he hopes his upcoming debut album—title and run date TBD—will speak for itself without the blindness tag. "A lot of times, people with disabilities can be put into a certain category," Question adds. "But we would just like a chance to communicate on the same playing field and platform equally with everybody else, and have our message received."

To lead up to National Disability Employment Awareness Month in October, GRAMMY.com caught up with Question about his experience of being blind from birth, how he mastered audio technology without the aid of vision, and what he hopes his debut album will impart to the world.

Question. Photo: Jahi Gilkey

This conversation has been lightly edited and condensed for clarity.

Can you talk about your experiences as an artist with accessibility needs?

I have been blind since birth, and I've also been in love with music since birth. Basically, sound being the medium that I receive most of my information through, I just grew up having an affinity for music and things around me. So, pretty much from the time I was learning to talk and interact with my environment, I started making music then.

I used to learn on little toy keyboards to copy melodies off TV. I don't know if you're familiar with the See 'n Say [toy], with the little pictures of animals and things? I used to take that and DJ and make it into an instrument. So, I started with music as early as I could. By the time I was six years old, I was already freestyle rapping. By the time I was 12, I was making beats on my school laptop.

Are you currently promoting new music?

Right now, I'm in the process of getting some new music together. I'm in a transition period where I officially, finally got a team behind me. [My manager] David [Jackson] has been helping me so much with everything. So, right now, we're kind of in between me making a lot of music for people in my hometown and the fanbase I've acquired. We're getting ready for a commercial release on all platforms.

Congratulations! That must feel really great!

Yes! I can't lie—it feels awesome and gives me a lot of anxiety because I'm just so ready. I'm very curious to see how everybody reacts. I'm curious to see what the results are. I'm just so excited, so there's a lot of pent-up hyper-ness inside me because I've wanted this for literally my entire life. I've never pictured myself doing anything else. This has always been my dream and my aspiration.

What can you tell me about the project you're working on?

This album is an introduction to me. It's basically trying to let people into my life through the first glimpse into my story. Letting people know how it is coming up in Atlanta as a blind person and as a young kid through rap, you know? Giving as many different iterations through hip-hop as possible.

I study a lot of different music. I'm a big fan of several different genres. Being a music producer as well, I try to mold those together and pay homage to a lot of people who have inspired my sound and allowed me to create. So, this album is really about trying to launch me and introduce people to my sound while, at the same time, giving back to everything that's allowed me to be where I'm at.

You must have grown up loving words, then, if hip-hop has always been one of your primary vehicles.

Absolutely. English was definitely my favorite subject in school. I used to dislike math, but then, as I got deeper into music and music engineering, I found a love for math as well, because there's a way to check your work. Numbers don't lie. You can see the truth in formulas. But English was definitely the first subject I had an affinity for.

What challenges have you faced as a blind person in music?

I guess the most daunting challenge that I faced early on was accessibility, which basically means that a lot of things weren't available to me independently. I had to have people use the computer for me to work certain programs, or set certain things up in the studio.

So, it took me a little bit to figure my way around these things, but as I got used to using the computer and learning more about the world and everything, I was able to find accessible software. There's things called screen readers which actually speak aloud all the words on the screen. That enabled me to use vastly more music programs.

Even though some of them have graphical interfaces—I'm not sure if you make music as well—but you may know from some music programs that sometimes there's a lot of waves on the screen, and sometimes, you have to draw things in. Some of those weren't as easy for me to use, so that was the first big hurdle I had to get over—to find my own way to manipulate the software.

In which ways do we still have a long way to go in providing accessibility to artists?

I think the technology has definitely reached certain heights where many things can be made accessible. The information is out there. The ability is out there. Now, it's just about making the world more aware that there is a market for this type of accessibility. There are a lot of people out there with something to say. I guess the inclusion factor comes to mind.

For example, when Apple makes their iPhones, they come with something called VoiceOver, which is an accessibility assistant. They come with that right out of the box. You can hold down Siri and say, "Turn on VoiceOver," and then a blind person will be able to use your phone. I would just love to see more corporations and technology conglomerates factor blind people into what they're doing in that kind of way.

Question. Photo: Jahi Gilkey

Do you consider yourself part of a community that shares your experience?

Yes, I definitely consider myself part of the blind community as well as the technological community.

I've actually had a hand in making a few different audio games for blind people. A lot of us like to game and chill out and have pastimes like everybody else, but we're not able to play some of the mainstream games like Call of Duty or Grand Theft Auto, so we make our own adapted versions. So, there's definitely a lot of people who are knowledgeable about increasing accessibility and working on these things.

A lot of people whose senses are intact might not think about it, but they should think about it.

Yeah, it can be overlooked. Until you encounter something in the world, it's kind of hard to have knowledge on it.

I don't really fault people for that. I just hope people can be more open-minded when encountering someone with a disability, whether it be blindness or anything. I would love to also be a catalyst for allowing people to ask more questions and realize that we are willing and quite happy to have conversations on this subject, educate people and talk to people, just as someone else would.

It might also be helpful not to treat it as an obstacle, full stop. You're obviously a bright and intuitive guy. Blindness seems to have opened up parts of your mind that many sighted people don't have access to.

I'm passionate! Unfortunately, there is a quite significant unemployment rate in the blind community. I think that's largely because many people haven't been shown a pathway or opportunity to make something work for themselves. Sometimes, it's a confidence thing, but [other] times, it's a matter of not having a template to look at. I definitely want to show people that they can make things happen for themselves.

How can we interface with and support the blind musical community?

There are a few [organizations] I know of. [The] Andrea Bocelli [Foundation]. There are a few that are active. But also, it's just a matter of being willing to look at us as regular musicians who have something to say. A lot of times, people with disabilities can be put into a certain category. Like, "That's the blind rapper."

But we would just like a chance to communicate on the same playing field and platform equally with everybody else, and have our message received. Because we do have a lot more in common than our differences. Everyone loves to laugh. Everybody has a favorite food. Everybody enjoys a conversation. Everyone's passionate about something. That's the goal here.

How The Music Industry Must Work To Close The Accessibility Gap: 4 Eye-Opening Takeaways

Grammys Newsletter

Jack Harlow

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Meet The First-Time GRAMMY Nominee: The Unchartable Rise Of Jack Harlow

One of rap's breakout stars of 2020, Jack Harlow discusses his first GRAMMY nomination, adjusting to the visibility of fame and the everlasting staying power of "Whats Poppin"

Keith Nelson Jr

GRAMMYs

Mar 3, 2021 - 3:54 pm

Here's a quick timeline of rapper Jack Harlow's 2020: "Whats Poppin" is released in January; the song is certified platinum in May; the remix with Lil Wayne , Tory Lanez and DaBaby helps the record skyrocket to No. 2 on the Billboard Hot 100 in June; his debut album That's What They All Say debuted in the Top 10 on the Billboard Top 200 in December. However, that's only the surface. Between the crevices of the solid foundation laid by the 22-year-old rising star's success were years of struggles with the perpetual visibility that comes with fame—and the introspection pandemic-induced solitude brings.

Rap fans have seen Harlow grow before our eyes. Still, the moment Harlow felt like he made it in music wasn't when he got his first platinum single, or when he got his XXL Freshman selection, or even when he made his television debut on "The Tonight Show Starring Jimmy Fallon."

"I remember the night the album dropped, we were out celebrating, and [DJ] Drama looked at me and said, 'You're here now.' I can tell by the way he said it that he wasn't just saying it in a loose way. He meant it," Jack Harlow told GRAMMY.com. "I was like, 'Damn, you think so?' He was like, 'Absolutely; you're locked in. You're here.' That was special because I felt like he was right at that moment."

Signed to DJ Drama's Generation Now label since the summer of 2018, the Louisville, Kentucky, native has grown from a mixtape darling to a bona fide star. He did so mainly thanks to "Whats Poppin," which earned him his first-ever GRAMMY nomination for Best Rap Performance at the 2021 GRAMMY Awards show—barely over two years after becoming a signed artist.

In a recent chat with GRAMMY.com, Harlow spoke about the validation of his GRAMMY nomination, how he made "Whats Poppin," and the idols he's turned into fans.

Jack Harlow | Meet The First-Time GRAMMY Nominee

This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.

Describe the moment you found out you were nominated for a GRAMMY.

I was watching them announce it live. I was waiting as they went through all the categories. It felt like hip-hop was last. I was watching, patiently waiting. They started listing Best Rap Performance, and sure enough, "Whats Poppin" is there. Then, I had this moment of "What the hell?" because they put Luke James. It said, 'Whats Poppin" by Luke James. I was like, "Yo!" It didn't stop my celebration because I knew there was only one "Whats Poppin."

I was turnt. I got calls after calls. I got calls while I was on a call! The calls were pouring in. It was a special day. It was validating. I definitely didn't expect to get nominated this early in my career. I'll take it.

How do you feel this GRAMMY nomination and possible win might affect your career going forward?

It's a great stamp. It's something I can carry with me for the rest of my life. A win would be huge but to be nominated is a great step for me. If anything, it just raises the bar. I love when these things happen because it gives me something higher to shoot for, to keep pushing myself. I'm forced to hold myself to a certain standard now. I'm GRAMMY-nominated.

How did you make the song that eventually would net you your first GRAMMY nomination?

I was on the very last tour I did before the pandemic and Jetson[made] DMed me saying he wanted to do work. At the time, I wasn't in touch with a lot of the hottest producers in the game. I had a few relationships, don't get me wrong. [But] this was an exciting message because it was someone who was dominating things and making songs that were touching the culture.

I was excited to get to Atlanta to work with him. So, the very first day I went back to the studio I told him to come through. The second day we worked, he invited Pooh Beats to the studio and Pooh started playing the beats he and Jetson had made. As soon as I heard the piano keys [on "Whats Poppin"], before I heard the drums, I knew I needed that.

I told him to load it up. It was one of the best beats I ever heard. From there, I made the decision to not overthink and specifically remember telling myself, "Yo, say the first thing that comes to mind for every line." I did that and the rest was history. It came together in a really special way.

Saying you made it without overthinking helps me understand certain lines from the song, like when you say "Just joshing." It sounds like it was you just having a regular conversation.

It's crazy you bring that line up, because I just did an interview with SPIN and I was telling them what I just told you, about not overthinking. That's why that line is in the song. I refused to let myself stop. I always planned on replacing that line. To this day, I'm kind of not a big fan of that line. It's kind of taken on a life of its own, so it is what it is. The whole time I had that song I was saying, "Yeah, I'm going to replace that line." Me saying "Just joshing" was a placeholder; it was silly. But, then that shit stuck.

What was the hardest part about breaking through and getting that recognition when you started out?

It was an internal battle. I think I was figuring out myself as an artist. I still am, but I'm a little older now and I've grown into a man. The process of being a teenager is you learning about yourself. You're learning what you want to project. At the same time that I'm discovering myself, I'm making decisions about what type of artist I want to be and I have all this pressure on myself to honor who I really am.

I'm more comfortable in my skin than I've ever been. I'm more comfortable in what I'm projecting because I'm secure in it. When I was younger, I did a lot of projecting what I thought people wanted me to be, or what I thought people saw me as. Now, I'm being exactly who I am.

On "Keep It Light" from your album, you say you aren't comfortable getting all of the praise. Are there moments over the last year that depicts how the fame you've acquired hasn't been all great, and you had to adjust?

Truth be told, I'm an attention whore. I do love the praise. I love the attention. But, there are moments where I'm channeling a different part of my personality. I have a certain percentage of me that is an introvert and isn't always in the mood to be praised or reciprocate energy for people.

There are moments when you have fans lurking and you don't want to deal with them at that moment or have to talk with them at that moment. Or, sometimes you're at parties and you don't want to talk about yourself. Sometimes you're back home and you're with the people you grew up with and you just want a break from the conversation being about you because it's uncomfortable.

For me, it feels a little braggadocious and gets uncomfortable at times. It's not that I hate it all the time, there are just moments. I love my fans and it's very validating to run into them in public and they make me feel good. But, I'm a moody person like most people.

Are there any things you've been able to get for yourself with your new fame and status that you've always wanted to get?

I remember about three or four years ago, I told everyone I'm close to that I was going to get the Static Major "Kentucky" chain, which is the silhouette of Kentucky. A few months ago, I finally did it. That was a huge moment for me to follow through on what I said. I don't have too many material things I want. The best thing about money is not having to worry about money. There's no item you can buy that's better than that.

You're signed to Generation Now with DJ Drama. What lessons did he teach you about this music industry that you applied to your career?

It's still ongoing to this day. He has opinions on what kind of car I should go out to the club in. He's constantly schooling me. We spend a lot of time together, so he tells me stories about the past. He gives me ideas on the way to maneuver and handle relationships.

He gives me tons of game. He's been in it for so long, there are certain traditions he speaks on that I enjoy honoring. I know I have to carve my own path, and I like to be innovative, but I have somebody who has a love for tradition.

How long did it take the album to come together and how did the pandemic affect its making?

I had a couple of songs that were started before the pandemic, but you can mark the beginning of the pandemic as when I started working on this album. I remember on the day everyone found out we had to go inside I made a mental note of making this album. "Whats Poppin" was moving and I knew it was time.

That first month of being in the house terrified and not knowing what was going on or going outside, I was inside writing and I wrote four or five songs on that album in the first couple of weeks. I wrote "Tyler Herro," "Baxter Avenue" and "Funny Seeing You Here" in the first week or so. I think I just hit a groove while in the house. I think that's where a lot of that introspective nature came from. I think I would've made a lot more party songs.

One silver lining that came from being inside was I was looking inwards. You listen to Sweet Action and that's full of party records because that's what my life was. So, when I had to sit inside for a bit, I got reflective and it was a good thing for that album.

Who were some surprising celebrity fans of yours since the success of "Whats Poppin?"

[Long pause] I've met Drake once or twice. We've talked a couple of times, and he's tuned in and listening. He's had some kind words. That definitely meant a lot to me because I'm a Drake stan, so getting that recognition from him was super special. To hear he was fond of the music, or co-signed the music, was very validating to me.

Lil Wayne is another one. Wayne loves my shit and he got on the remix. That was a huge deal to me. The reason I paused for so long was that there's one I can't wait to announce that I recently connected with. It's not time for me to say who yet because there's more to it. Hopefully, after this interview comes out, people can connect the dots. This is a big one; it's a bucket-list one.

Pull Up On The Best Rap Song Nominees | 2021 GRAMMYs

Grammys Newsletter

Lindsey Buckingham

Photo: Lauren Dukoff

News

Lindsey Buckingham Holds Forth On His New Self-Titled Album, How He Really Feels About Fleetwood Mac Touring Without Him

Lindsey Buckingham has taken some life situations on the chin lately, from bypass surgery to Fleetwood Mac removing him. But as his new self-titled record attests, almost nobody is better at flipping awkwardness and darkness into joyous melodies

GRAMMYs

Sep 16, 2021 - 1:18 pm

Lindsey Buckingham's new album comes prepackaged with obvious talking points. Crane your ear, and you can faintly hear the click-clack of MacBook keys assembling the following lede: Open-heart surgery, almost losing his voice forever, a looming divorce (they've since thrown that into reverse—love never fails!) and a certain über-dramatic rock institution handing him the pink slip.

But that readymade narrative leaves out the most important part, which is how it all comes out the other side of Buckingham's brain. For decades, the two-time GRAMMY winner alchemized pain and awkwardness into effervescent pop music like almost nobody else—and sold millions and millions of records as a result. How does he keep that psychological and spiritual mechanism well-oiled?

Perhaps the answer is best articulated in good ol' music: His new album, Lindsey Buckingham, which arrives September 17, is permeated with this big-picture thinking. And everything he's been through since he recorded tunes like "Scream," "I Don't Mind" and "On the Wrong Side"—honestly, the album is three years old now after a comical number of delays—gives the tunes added heft, import and longevity.

But for now, the singer/songwriter and guitarist can give it the old college try. "It's not like I'm attracted to any of the dark at all. It's just that I think it exists hand-in-hand with the light," he says over FaceTime. "There's nothing you can do about that." That was the attitude he maintained during the Jerry Springer-style lovers' fiascos that fueled Rumours, and it's how he feels today, when predicaments and headaches that "weren't on the radar" blindside him.

GRAMMY.com caught up with Buckingham during rehearsals for his current U.S. tour to discuss the long road to the new album and how he maintains a PMA with the Sword of Damocles over his head. Near the end, he spills the tea about why he's really no longer in Fleetwood Mac. (See Stevie Nicks' recent comments for the counterpoint.)

This interview has been lightly edited for clarity.

How's it feel to be rehearsing with your bandmates?

It's great! The camaraderie can't be beat. There's none of the politics that always were there with Fleetwood Mac. We had several attempts to get this album out over the last three years because it's been ready to go for over three years. Certain things kept getting in the way. So, we're finally here and it's good to be playing. I love it.

Is it weird to be promoting music you made a while ago? I didn't know it was so old.

You know, it's funny: When I did that duet album with Christine [McVie], my original intention—becuase I was working on this simultaneously—was to put it out back-to-back with that. Because of Fleetwood Mac politics, that didn't happen.

And then, after all the stuff we'd done with Fleetwood Mac, I thought "Well, rather than put the album out then, I thought I'd put out the anthology"—the best-of [compilation album] that I did in 2018, which was great fun and it was sort of cathartic to revisit all that.

And then [Wry chuckle] we really were starting to get ready to rehearse and then I had this bypass I had in 2019. That took some recovery. And then, we started to begin to rehearse—and then the COVID hit! So it's been kind of a running gag of trying to get this thing out and having to kick it down the road.

I think, in the process, the material itself—and certainly the subject matter—has taken on a somewhat deeper meaning given all that's happened over the last few years, you know?

You seem like you're in a great mood despite the turmoil.

Well, I mean, you know, stuff happens. Rock 'n' roll bands are rock 'n' roll bands. Health issues are going to come and go. So it's all good! I didn't know how I was going to feel at the beginning of rehearsals—whether doing a set twice a day was something I was even up for—but it all turned out to be great. I'm looking forward to it.

I remember seeing the news about the bypass surgery. I was so worried. Music fans worldwide were so worried. I'm so happy you made it back to 100 percent.

Oh, yeah. There was this moment that lasted for a few months because, in the process of doing that, somebody, I guess, a little overzealously jammed a breathing tube down my throat when they were about to do the thing. It kind of damaged my vocal cords for a while, but they came back. That was the other thing: I didn't know how my voice was going to be, putting it to the test, doing a set twice a day in rehearsal. But it's been pretty good, so I'm happy.

In general, what's your life been like since exiting the band?

Well, there have been a lot of things that weren't on the radar, that just sort of showed up like that. And, of course, the whole COVID experience was something nobody saw coming. That wasn't so difficult for me, in a lot of ways, because I lead a fairly insular life anyway. I'm somewhat of a loner. And when I'm working, I'm working by myself most of the time. Certainly, on solo work, all of the time.

You know, we've gotten through that, and I think that was harder on my kids than it was on me. I think there's been a lesson in there somewhere, although I'm not sure what it is. Now, I mean, my god. Everyone wants to go out and tour, but now we've got this Delta variant, and who knows where that's going?

In the meantime, you just sort of look at all the things you didn't see coming over the last few years and put them in context with where you are now, and it actually provides a little more meaning, I think, for the tour and putting the album out now as opposed to putting it out three years ago. I think the subject matter and the music itself probably resonates a little more because of all that, too.

You've always had a knack for making effervescent music out of difficult or stressful topics. What about this contrast, or this tension, continues to attract you all these decades later?

[Long chuckle.] Wow. I don't know! It's not something I wish on myself. Whether it's a band or a family or a long-term marriage, there are going to be challenges that come up that require not only that you adapt, but accept things that you can't change. You have to come to the realization there's only so much you can control—to try to concentrate on what is positive and try to keep your wits about you in a situation that can lead you off in not-very-constructive directions.

That's something on a more general level that goes back to Rumours, even—where we had this huge test and were maybe poised to fall prey to all the external expectations that there were out there. To make a Rumours II and to become a piece of product that had been formulized. Obviously, I made the choice to go another route. So much of it is about the choices you make with the challenges that come along and how you choose to process them.

I don't know. It's not like I'm attracted to any of the dark at all. It's just that I think it exists hand-in-hand with the light, and there's nothing you can do about that.

To qualify my question, it's not like you're wishing pain on yourself as grist for the mill for songs. Everyone deals with the awkwardness and darkness of life to one degree or another. But it's rare that someone like yourself can flip it, or alchemize it, into something joyous.

Right. Well, I think you've got to try to keep the overview. And, again, in the same way, to go back to Fleetwood Mac and the Rumours album and how we were going through all this stuff as couples and breaking up and not being able to get closure. I was dealing with a lot of pain at Stevie having moved away from me and yet I was producing the band and was the bandleader—you've got to make choices for the bigger picture, so you've got to rise above all of that.

I think that's something you learn how to do. You try to transform that into something more transcendent.

Back in that bacchanalian era of Rumours, how did you guys survive compounding, compounding, compounding crises where one of them would have ruined any other band? As you say, were you guys just seeing the big picture through all of it?

Well, I don't know! I'll take some of the credit for that, but I think you're talking about people who, on paper, don't even belong in the same band together. But the synergy we created because of what was greater than the sum of the parts, and I think underneath all that darkness, there was a lot of love for each other. There was certainly a huge amount of chemistry.

I think it's just what you try to do. You can choose to react darkly to a dark situation or you can choose to react in a way that is somewhat cathartic or transformative and gets you away from that—without denying it, but just sort of contextualizing it.

With all the highs and lows, do you remember that as a particularly happy time, or in some other way?

Both. But even so, obviously, you can concentrate on the musical soap opera that was so much the subtext of our success back then, but I think you just move on.

In your solo work, what do you feel you can say that you can't with Fleetwood Mac? You touched on the politics and how it's easy-breezy in this format, but from a songwriting perspective, do you write in one box or the other?

I think my lyrics have gotten better—I would like to think—over the years because they've become less and less literal. Some of that has been arrived at because the process I use to record solo albums is far more—I've said this many times—but like painting. Because I'm playing everything and engineering it, it's basically you and your work. It's you and your canvas, so to speak. A musical canvas.

I think the solo work has just allowed me to continue to improve, because that process has allowed for risk and pushing the envelope and discovery in a way that the political process of Fleetwood Mac sometimes disallowed. It allowed it during the Tusk album, but then there was kind of a backlash politically when Tusk didn't sell 16 million albums. Mick [Fleetwood] comes to me and says, "Well, we're not going to do that again."

Lindsey Buckingham. Photo: Lauren Dukoff

That's when I started making solo albums, because I realized if I was going to aspire to be an artist in the long term and continue to take those risks—and, to some degree, continue to thwart people's expectations of what they thought we were or I was—then I was going to have to do it with solo work. That's always where I've continued to grow as an artist, I think.

So, the songwriting has gotten, I think, more interesting and has more depth. It's also become somewhat indistinguishable from the production process, whereas with a band, you've got to bring in a complete song and bring it from point A to point B and it requires a lot more verbalization and politics. It's probably more like moviemaking.

The painting process is really something you can build and build and build off of. It's been an interesting sense of forward motion over the years.

It's fascinating that you've had this whole arc parallel to your journey in a major rock institution. This is your first solo album in a decade. What was your vision for it as opposed to the others, in any regard?

I think much of it was, again, subject-matter-wise: My kids are all basically grown up. I still have a 17-year-old daughter, but they're basically not children anymore. My wife and I have been together for 24 years. You start to have to—again, as I said—accept things and adapt to a thing you, perhaps, at one time, earlier on, you thought you'd never have to adapt to.

And yet I think you need to look at that with an acceptance and almost a celebration that that's just part of what it takes to keep learning and growing as a couple. To have your relationship continue to build on itself. Much of the album, lyric-wise, the content is addressing that: Lamenting it, but also celebrating it.

On a musical level, what I wanted to say, really, is something very simple and fundamental. I thought it'd be very cool to make more of a pop album than I've made before—maybe ever. But certainly since [1992's] Out of the Cradle. There was a sense of referring back to pop sensibilities that existed in Fleetwood Mac and in solo work, but probably in Fleetwood Mac to the point where you could probably connect the dots to a song like "On the Wrong Side" and "Go Your Own Way."

There was a conscious desire to circle back on something and revisit it. I wanted to make a pop album, and of course, there are a few tracks on there that represent the leftest edges of that. "Power Down" is one song that comes to mind. But generally speaking, the album has pop accessibility that I wanted to achieve, and I think, for the most part, I got there.

I definitely think of you as a melodist first and foremost. As opposed to favorite writers or musicians, per se, who are your favorite melodists out in the ether?

Well, obviously, Paul McCartney, Brian Wilson, Burt Bacharach. Geez, I don't know. Henry Mancini. How's that?

Back to your recovery from the heart surgery. Was it scary to think that you might not get to sing again? I mean, that's your whole livelihood.

Well, you know, it was interesting, because there was only so much I could control about it and I was also, in a larger sense, just dealing with recovering from the bypass, which took a few months.

I was probably more concerned with the specifics of what I had to do just to recover from such an invasive procedure, but yes—there was a point where we first saw someone in Los Angeles, a doctor. She turned me on to a voice therapist who would come to the house and have me do exercises. None of that seemed to do anything.

Eventually, she referred me to someone in Boston, who I guess is the guy who deals with singers who have voice problems. My wife and I flew to Boston a couple of times and he looked me over and said, "Look, this is going to take care of itself. I can't guarantee you that your voice is going to come back 100 percent."

And it probably hasn't, really, quite honestly. It's probably come back 95 percent. In rehearsals, we decided to lower the keys of a couple of songs a half step because I was having trouble hitting the notes I used to hit. But some of that just comes along with getting older. That's something we've done continuously over the years anyway, so that's all there is to say about that.

But at the point where this doctor says to me, "I can't guarantee you it's going to come back to 100 percent, but there's nothing you can do. You've just got to wait and it'll do what it's going to do," I just stopped worrying about it because I realized it was just a waiting game I had to play. Again, over a period of months, my voice returned and it seems to be working quite well now, so we're good.

Did you have to carry around a notepad and the whole bit?

No, no, no. I could talk, but it was [Affects rasp] kind of like that for a while. It just was not clear for a month and a half or two months, and then I started to get better.

Now that you're back in fighting shape, have you been writing any?

Well, when COVID hit, we had just moved from the house the kids were raised in to a slightly smaller house that we built. Right after that move, COVID hit, and the studio was still in the process of being finished up. It's downstairs in sort of a guest house in the backyard, and it's in the basement of that.

It was funny: I didn't have any great motivation to go down and work when COVID hit. I'm not sure why. But after a few months, I said to myself "I've got to force myself to go down there." So I did, and I got into a routine for a few months down there where I ended up starting and finishing maybe three new songs. There is something to pick up from whenever it's time to make another album, but I haven't done a huge amount of writing, no.

Well, it's not a very inspiring time.

It's pretty strange, yeah.

I must ask: What went through your head when you heard that Peter Green had died?

Well, when I heard about Peter Green, the first thing I said was, "I've got to call Mick," which I did. Mick and I had probably talked once before that since all the Fleetwood Mac stuff went down. He texted and emailed with me and stuff, but we hadn't had a lot of conversations. He and I were obviously on completely good terms at that point and I think he felt bad about that whole thing.

He didn't really want that to happen, but that's another conversation. But he and I commiserated about Peter. He was actually way more [undeterred] about it than I would have expected because I think the term he used was "He died a king's death," which means you go to sleep at night and you don't wake up. That's what happened to Peter, but it was sad. It was quite sad, obviously.

He wasn't really on the scene for very long, but he left quite a mark. Mick and I were able to share our sadness about that, for sure.

Do you remember the last time you saw Peter or spoke to him?

I think the last time would have been in 2015—the last time we toured in the U.K. with Fleetwood Mac after Christine came back. He was a funny guy when it came to interacting with me. Obviously, he wasn't maybe in the best mental shape anyway; I don't really know the finer points of that. He was always a bit standoffish with me; I'm not sure why.

Maybe he felt, as John McVie once said to Mick, that what we were doing was a long way from the blues. It could have been that, or maybe it was the other way: Maybe he was slightly threatened by it. I don't really know. But he was never overly warm to me for some reason.

But it was in 2015, probably. He used to come to our shows.

Stevie Nicks and Lindsey Buckingham in 1979. Photo: Ebet Roberts/Redferns via Getty Images

Feel free to not broach this at all, but is there anything you can share about where you stand with the rest of Fleetwood Mac at this time?

Look, that whole thing was really something that Stevie wanted to do. It was her doing. It wasn't Mick's doing or Christine's doing or John's.

Whatever she used as a pretense for my behavior in terms of saying she never wanted to work with me again was so minimal by comparison with what we'd been through over the previous 43 years that it didn't ring true at all to me. But on some level, I think she was a bit unhappy in her own life and was trying to remake the band slightly more in own image.

Again, this is all me theorizing—I don't know why—but I think over the last x number of tours, even going back to the Say You Will tour back in 2003, but certainly 2008 and '09, 2013, 2014 and '15, after Christine came back, my moments on stage were quite peak. I had many peak moments.

I had "The Chain"; I had "Tusk"; I had "Never Going Back Again"; I had "Big Love"; I had "So Afraid." I think my evolvement as a stage presence over time had sort of enlarged, and I think her—if you want to call it devolvement—as a stage presence over time had diminished a little bit. I think that was hard for her.

Obviously, she will be and was always the figurehead singer out there, but in terms of those peak moments, I don't think she enjoyed as many. And maybe she just didn't want to be around that anymore! I don't know. I don't blame her for anything, but I haven't really spoken with her about it.

As far as the others go, you know—Mick and Christine—I was a little disappointed with their lack of strength in terms of not standing up for me at the time, but I think they all had reasons they felt they couldn't stand up to Stevie, because she basically gave them an ultimatum: "Either Lindsey goes or I go."

It's a ridiculous ultimatum. It would be like Mick Jagger saying "Well, either Keith goes or I go." I mean, come on! It's not going to happen! But if you've got to choose one, I guess you've got to choose the singer! [Edgy laugh.] I got a text or an email from Christine not long after that apologizing: "I'm sorry I didn't stand up for you. I just bought a house." So, that pretty much says it all, you know?

In the ensuing years, I certainly have had good conversations with Christine and everything is great, but mostly with Mick. He and I were and will always be soulmates and he's said "I'd love to get the five of us back together." Of course, he knows I would come back like a shot if that was something that were politically feasible. It remains to be seen whether that is or not.

But one thing I will say is that when all of that went down, I didn't necessarily feel left out because I didn't get to do that tour. The only thing that really got to me is—as I mentioned a second ago—we spent 43 years rising above so many difficulties in order to fulfill our destiny, you know. That has always been the legacy of Fleetwood Mac beyond the music: We always got to do that. For 43 years.

I did not see the show they did with Mike Campbell and Neil Finn, but I did see the setlist. It had Peter Green and Bob Welch songs and it had Crowded House [breaks into a giggle] and Tom Petty songs! I thought, "Well, it's awfully generic at this point. Some might even call it a cover band to some degree." It's probably not a fair term to use, but even so, I don't think it did anything but dishonor that legacy that we had built for those 43 years. That was the only thing that bothered me.

So, to be able to come back and reestablish that legacy would be quite meaningful, I think. Whether or not that's possible remains to be seen, you know? I don't blame anybody or hold a grudge against any of them, including Stevie. I know what she did, she did it out of unhappiness or perhaps out of weakness. It's all part of being in a rock 'n' roll band, I guess.

I don't know who really knows who in this circle of musicians, but I hope there wasn't any awkwardness regarding Mike and Neil joining the band.

Well, it wasn't with me because I never really interacted with them. I think there probably was in terms of coming to the band. I know Stevie was not happy with Mike Campbell later on because it was a "He's not playing that part right!" kind of thing. I've always been a fan of Neil Finn anyway, but, you know, it's a strange situation to come in like that.

When you made that point about Mike, my first thought was "Hmm... I think there's a guy who knows how to play those parts just right!"

[Mischevious laugh.]

You're very much an artist in the now and you have a whole creative future ahead of you. But when you look back on the arc of your career—all of it so far—is there anything you'd do differently or tell yourself as a younger man?

Oh, boy. I don't think so! Whatever my part was in making Stevie feel the way she did in order to have to give the band an ultimatum, I would obviously not do that.

I think one of the things that maybe has been a good thing for me over the last three or four years since that happened—and not directly because of that—but because of that and the bypass and perhaps COVID and whatever else, I've gotten a little less self-involved, maybe, and looked around me a little more. Maybe that's something I could have done better from time to time.

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