I don’t know who told J. Cole it was a good idea to make the best and cleverest song on his album a minute long. But that person needs to be put in a hole. A deep hole.
Back at it over on Cypher League on the power of aesthetics. Here.
a toast to 2013
People made music in 2013. I wrote about my favorites.
albums
20. roc marciano - marci beaucoup
19. drake - nothing was the same
18. statik selektah - extended play
16. tree - sunday school ii: when church lets out
14. boldy james & the alchemist - m.1.c.s.: my 1st chemistry set
13. black milk - no poison no paradise
12. roc marciano - the pimpire strikes back
11. vince staples & larry fisherman - stolen youth
10. action bronson & party supplies - blue chips 2
9. pusha t - my name is my name
8. childish gambino - because the internet
7. run the jewels - run the jewels
3. mac miller - watching movies with the sound off
2. chance the rapper - acid rap
songs
20. freddie gibbs - “freddie soprano (prod. i.d. lab productions)”
19. j. cole - “cole summer (prod. j. cole)”
18. flatbush zombies - “bliss (prod. erick arc elliott)”
17. busta rhymes - “thank you feat. q-tip, lil wayne & kanye west (prod. busta rhymes)”
16. joey bada$$ - “unorthodox (prod. dj premier)”
15. drake - “5am in toronto (prod. boi-1da & vinylz)”
13. rich homie quan - “type of way (prod. yung carter)”
12. mac miller - “the star room (prod. randomblackdude)”
11. tyler, the creator - “rusty feat. domo genesis & earl sweatshirt (prod. tyler, the creator)”
10. big sean - “control feat. kendrick lamar & jay electronica (prod. no i.d.)”
9. nipsey hussle - “face the world (prod. 9th wonder)”
8. danny brown - “odb (prod. paul white)”
7. kanye west - “blood on the leaves (prod. kanye and his friends)”
6. roc marciano - “the sacrifice (prod. madlib)”
5. pusha t - “numbers on the board (prod. don cannon & kanye west)”
4. kanye west - “new slaves feat. frank ocean (prod. lots of people)”
3. earl sweatshirt - “hive feat. vince staples (prod. matt martians & randomblackdude)”
2. chance the rapper - “juice (prod. nate fox)”
1. pusha t - “nosetalgia feat. kendrick lamar (prod. nottz & kanye west)”
1. kanye west - yeezus
Over the last twenty days of December (and obviously 2013), I’ll be writing about my favorite twenty albums and songs of the year, one a day. Not best. Not most influential. Not most likely to land on a Complex slideshow. Just my favorite, ranked in order.
1. kanye west – yeezus
While Pitchfork’s reader-base might not be the most authoritative of sources, it’s telling that Kanye West’s Yeezus was voted “Most Overrated,” “Most Underrated,” and “Best” album of the year. While Kanye’s musical ability seems to be increasingly up for debate as his career rolls along, his ability to spark discussion certainly isn’t; Kanye’s name hasn’t really left the headlines all year. Whether it’s been his relationship with Kim Kardashian or his explosions at Jimmy Kimmel (#ALLDISRESPECTTOJIMMYKIMMEL) and Shade 45's Sway (“You ain’t got the answers, Sway!”), Kanye certainly hasn’t lost his knack for retaining the spotlight.
And while it’s not that Kanye has ever been a public figure who’s seemed overly concerned with his public image, but Yeezus is divisive even by his standards. He’s seized the opposite end of the spectrum from the maximalism that ran through the veins of his last few releases, instead employing the legendary bearded presence of Rick Rubin to help strip Yeezus down to its very core. It’s not the same type of minimalism that Pusha T embraced for My Name is My Name, though; Yeezus demonstrates it through restraint, when it submerges its synths underwater to let Kanye rage, or when it draws back everything but the beat’s spine for the majority of a song.
It’s almost a guilty pleasure to watch Kanye drop all pretenses of eloquence. It’s not an approach that’s too surprising given that Kanye never was the most talented of lyricists (he’s always relied on memorable rather than articulate lines) – to be honest, it’s the direction Kanye’s been heading in for years; it was only a matter of time before he decided that crude bluntness was a better approach than subtlety. And while Kanye’s perceived lack of lyricism has been a major gripe surrounding Yeezus (in all fairness, Kanye’s performance as a rapper on this album is amateurish often bordering on pathetic), what Kanye has discarded in his bars he’s more than regained through his emotion and investment.
It’s sharp and primal when it’s there, like when Kanye kicks up into fifth gear in the second half of “New Slaves” or when he breaks out the screams in “I Am a God.” Kanye built up his career as the open antithesis of hip-hop’s hard street thug image and he’s certainly not forgotten that (“Pink-ass polo with a fucking backpack/Everybody knows I brought real rap back,” “I Am a God”), so the shock isn’t Kanye’s openness. It’s the extents to which he’s willing to stretch that approach – but then again, Kanye’s not one known for moderation. He’s efficient, for once in his musical career.
And Yeezus is just ten songs long, and the fact that it only clocks in at forty minutes means that it’s more easily consumed as what it is: a flash of intensity Had Kanye tested the hour-mark as he often does (My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy nudged up against seventy minutes) Yeezus might have appeased more fans, but its battering ram quality would be far less compelling. Yeezus’ length means that every verse hits harder and every musical move means more. It’s not just a coincidence buried in an hour of music that Kanye paired up “Strange Fruit” with TNGHT in “Blood on the Leaves,” nor is the unexpected soulfulness of “Bound 2” just a throwaway moment. The album is best absorbed as a powerful in-and-out blast of music, driven forward less by finesse than by brute force and emotion. Fantasy relied heavily on our investment in Kanye’s issues to drive the album forward for full effect, but Yeezus makes it brutally clear that, well, Kanye couldn’t give less of a shit whether we relate to his problems. It’s a musical manifesto, often unclear and misleading but always gripping.
Kanye exists in a musical vacuum of his own, where his primary comparison will always be his last album and his primary competitor is himself. The specters hanging over him aren’t that of Drake and Jay-Z (his utter disregard for public opinion seems to indicate as much), but of My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy and The College Dropout. He’ll always be compared against his other albums, for better or worse – and even if Yeezus might qualitatively be the worst of his solo efforts, it’s an album that’ll be discussed years from now. Even when the whole point seems to be that Kanye doesn’t care, well, he can’t help but make us care.
1. pusha t - "nosetalgia feat. kendrick lamar (prod. nottz & kanye west)"
Over the last twenty days of December (and obviously 2013), I’ll be writing about my favorite twenty albums and songs of the year, one a day. Not best. Not most influential. Not most likely to land on a Complex slideshow. Just my favorite, ranked in order.
1. pusha t – “nosetalgia feat. kendrick lamar (prod. nottz & kanye west)”
On an album that embraced minimalism as a way of life, “Nosetalgia” stands head and shoulders above the rest as the purest manifestation of the album’s “Rick Rubin on steroids” mantra. It’s as bare-bones as a hip-hop song gets, relying on about six different drum and sample sounds to lurch it along, and there’s no mistake where the spotlight’s turned: towards the mic. On a superficial level, it’s excellent simply as a glass display case for two of the best rappers alive; Nottz and Kanye’s stretched-out horns and subdued drums certainly leave enough space between drums and rattles for Pusha T and Kendrick Lamar to flex. We could leave it there – it’s just two incredibly talented rappers clearing the table off, sitting down, and rhyming.
But that’s not all. Kendrick plays the windowpane-peering Nas to Pusha’s Jay-Z stunningly well, each taking up two different roles and lenses to view the cocaine trade through. While Pusha was “crack in the school zone/two beepers on me, starter jacket that was two-toned,” Kendrick’s “daddy turned a quarter piece to a four and a half/Took a L, started selling soap fiends bubble bath.” They’re at odds by the very nature of the parts they play, but “Nosetalgia” doesn’t pit the two rappers against each other: the song isn’t accusatory towards any side, and it’s not a platform for either to level shots. Instead, the aggression and intensity bleeds through the lines and snarls, letting the verses serve as testimonials to be taken and absorbed.
For any other rapper, Kendrick’s turn on “Nosetalgia” would be a career-high. It’s telling that for him, it’s just another clip in a highlight reel of a year full of song-throttlers: Big Sean’s “Control”, Tech N9ne’s “Fragile”, Fredo Santana’s “Jealous.” It’s not as in-your-face as the verse that most might name as his biggest contribution this year (here, Kendrick at least refrains from calling out his peers), but it burrows into your brain just as well. While “Control” saw Kendrick tossing out a flurry of references and threats, he’s paradoxically both more restrained and animated here. Halfway through his verse, right before he segues into a conversation with his father in which he raps both sides: “And nine times out of ten, niggas don’t pay attention/And when there’s tension in the air, nines come with extensions.” Kendrick’s not as grizzled as Pusha, and maybe he doesn’t have the same type of resume to flaunt, but when it comes to backdoor meaning unveilings and crafting unforgettable images, well, he’s virtually unparalleled. King Kendrick.
2. chance the rapper - acid rap, "juice (prod. nate fox)"
Over the last twenty days of December (and obviously 2013), I’ll be writing about my favorite twenty albums and songs of the year, one a day. Not best. Not most influential. Not most likely to land on a Complex slideshow. Just my favorite, ranked in order.
2. chance the rapper – acid rap, “juice (prod. nate fox)”
Chance the Rapper skips and darts across horns and drums like he might a stage; his animation bleeds through his words. In that respect, “Juice” is Chance’s attitude crumpled up into one song. His idea of a proper rapper’s sixteen seems to revolve less around structured lines than it does around stringing together words that slot into each other’s niches and cracks and half-singing his verses: it’s repetitive, somewhat illogical, and not to mention highly unorthodox. It’s also very awesome. He dips into a Russian accent for a couple lines before he engages in some wordplay (“Acid addict, costly avid actor”) and triumphantly name drops, well, Kevin Costner. The hook is him hunkering down in a back-and-forth with a few unnamed backups where he yells “juice” at them a bunch of times. Half of his lines don’t seem to make really make sense: at the end of his second verse, his words kind of just devolve into random shout outs and rhymes.
But that’s part of the fun of Chance’s music – because that’s what it really is, fun. While fellow Chicago compatriot and frequent collaborator Vic Mensa seems eternally determined to demonstrate to you just how many multisyllabic rhymes he can stuff into a four-bar sequence, Chance raps like someone who’s just learned how to string together a couplet. It’s slightly off-kilter (you can practically see Chance grinning and staggering as he slings out his lines), and very engaging. It’s hard not to get swept up in the enthusiasm infused into the song, built in the spaces between the guitar lick skeleton – you don’t need to know English to enjoy the melodic nature strung between Acid Rap’s songs.
And maybe it’s because we’ve become so acquainted with Chance’s background (the prep school, the ten-day suspension, the Childish Gambino nods, etc.), but his music reads as genuine and piercing in a way that Vic Mensa’s never is. “Interlude (That’s Love)” is a legitimate R&B song that could easily have gone over as trite (“But when it looked you in the eyes it ain’t nothing you could say but that’s love”) if Chance didn’t plunge himself into it and sell the delivery. He’s even pulling off “nostalgic” even though he’s probably not even old enough to grab a beer at a bar. Chance’s self-awareness shines even when he’s being playful. It’s always lurking dryly somewhere behind his words, like the hook to “Cocoa Butter Kisses”: “Cigarettes on cigarettes, my momma think I stank/I got burn holes in my hoodies, all my homies think it’s dank.” Chance, evidently, isn’t the type of rapper to put on facades and masks.
Take the album as just one massive jam session, armed with live bands and orchestras and entire choirs. That doesn’t mean Chance is afraid to delve into his fears and insecurities, or that he won’t turn up the bass and pound out a screwed-hook banger – it just means that it segues into itself, looping, and doesn’t take itself too seriously. It explores ideas without fleshing them out too far (like the summery anthem-feel of the Gambino-featuring “Favorite Song”, or the lay-down-a-groove-and-let’s-trade-bars cyphery “NaNa” alongside Action Bronson), and then he’s drawing us right back into his world and music.
It’s easy to talk about Chance’s music as a foil for the gun-toting aggression of his Chicago hip-hop drill counterparts, because that’s the frame it’s been shoved and adjusted into ever since Chance hit the big time – Chance’s zeal, at first look, couldn’t be more at odds with Chief Keef and King L’s brash portrayals of Chiraq. But here’s the thing: Chance is just as rooted in his hometown as the rest of the Chicago newcomer scene. It’s just that while most of his fellow Chicagoans choose to immerse themselves in their city and lay it all out for their listeners to be judged and evaluated as they will, Chance is far more willing to engage his audience. When he asks bitterly, “Funerals for little girls, is that appealing to you?/From your cubicle desktop, what a beautiful view” on “Acid Rain,” it takes you by the collar in a way that Chief Keef’s music never does. Sometimes Acid Rap is accusing, sometimes it’s an escape, sometimes it just avoids the issue altogether. But ultimately Chance isn’t trying to escape the shadow of Chicago’s skyline, he’s just shining a light back up at it.
3. mac miller - watching movies with the sound off//earl sweatshirt - "hive (prod. matt martians & randomblackdude)"
Over the last twenty days of December (and obviously 2013), I’ll be writing about my favorite twenty albums and songs of the year, one a day. Not best. Not most influential. Not most likely to land on a Complex slideshow. Just my favorite, ranked in order.
3. mac miller – watching movies with the sound off
While I’m sure most hip-hop fans aren’t exactly ruing the day that Mac Miller exchanged high school party songs for hazed-out alternative hip-hop, there’s something to be said for Mac’s past. The time he’s been spending hanging out with rappers like Ab-Soul has certainly been rubbing off on Mac lyrically – his rhyming’s shifted to dense and drifting, just like Soulo’s is. But his time making white-girl-wasted anthems has also given Mac a couple one-ups on the competition. For one, he’s capable of letting his rhyming descend into deep wordplay, letting his syllables dictate the rhythm and pacing, while still keeping a tight hold on his listeners with his almost melodic voice control. And another: even post-re-invention, Mac isn’t just another psychedelics-driven experimental rapper more interested in his words than his music, because he’s equipped with a decent set of pipes that he’s not afraid to exercise (“Objects in the Mirror” would be a good stand-alone downbeat song in the mold of tourmates The Internet even if it wasn’t from a rapper). And while Mac sometimes loses himself in whatever weird (and excellent!) musical niche he’s created for himself (Watching Movies With the Sound Off is at least three or four songs too long), it’s hard to deny that he’s a) talented, and b) got a very, very good ear for what makes good music. It’s certainly uncharted territory for Mac both in terms of the music he’s making and the career reinvention he’s undergoing (even Asher Roth never got quite this weird), but so far he’s pulling it off with aplomb.
On “S.D.S.” he’s setting up Biblical metaphors to be juxtaposed aside inanities like the song’s very own hook, murmuring, “Ain’t no party like aristocratic party.” The Action Bronson-assisted “Red Dot Music” sees Mac matching the master of non sequiturs at his art more than ably just a few songs before he goes bar-for-bar alongside Jay Electronica. And even with his newfound ability to rap (seriously, he can fucking rap now) under his arm and an impressive supporting cast (Odd Future, Black Hippy, and Flying Lotus seem pretty sold at the least) behind him, Mac’s still laying out his problems on a musical carpet a lot more compellingly than rappers like Drake or Earl did on their respective albums. He’s alternately existential (“But I’m ready for it all to end, die before tomorrow’s trend/Your life, it all depends on dollars spent and knowledge gained”, “Aquarium”) and self-questioning (“Will he recognize his son when he hears my voice?/I put this music against my life, I think I fear the choice”, “The Star Room”) without ringing false. Watching Movies is just the crowning achievement of a remarkable year for Mac Miller. Just a year ago, he was the guy who was getting sued by Lord Finesse for a mixtape sample and the guy behind aggressively-stereotypical music in fraternities across the country. Now he’s a rapper, producer, and performer extraordinaire making excellent, occasionally brilliant music. How things change.
3. earl sweatshirt – “hive feat. vince staples (prod. matt martians & randomblackdude)”
“Hive” doesn’t really move along as much as it slithers, and it’s not so much menacing as it is ominous. It’s dark and foreboding but it hardly sits back; it’s constantly thrusting forward, jerking along. Earl’s certainly up for the challenge: for once, his growl is elevated above whatever sonic landscape he’s rapping on top of, and to phenomenal effect. The first verse, especially, is a technical dream: “Crack-a-lackin’ like snap, crackle, poppin your ammo off.” Earl rapping “Breaking news, death’s less important when the Lakers lose” is a far more compelling condemnation of the media than most of Kanye’s raging, and who’d think to flaunt their rawness by comparing themselves to a “skinned kneecap on the blacktop”? Sometimes it’s easy to forget just how talented Earl is, but not when he’s snaring the gloom and hopelessness of Los Angeles (”From a city that’s recession-hit/With stress niggas could flex metal with, peddle to rake pennies in”) as adeptly as he is here. As he puts it: “the description doesn’t fit if not a synonym of menace.”
But even if the song’s practically made for Earl, make no mistake: the real highlight is Vince Staples. It’s hard to imagine Earl’s legs swept out from under him after his two cents, but Vince’s turn is a show-stealer if I’ve ever heard one. While Earl derives his menace from his gravelly voice and Vince’s fellow Cutthroat Boyz members draw theirs from their barely-contained snarls, Vince adopts a different tactic. It’s hard to explain the presence that Vince’s high-pitched drawl has, or what exactly it’s composed of – he’s confident and sounds like he’s on the verge of “unhinged” – but that’s not exactly it. It’s the composure of a mob boss versus that of a one-off criminal, maybe. But whatever it is, Vince is capable of slowing his pace to a deliberate trot without ceding any of it, and across his sixteen he rips whatever Earl contributed to pieces. His first, direct line establishes exactly what grounds we’re working off of (“Quit with all that tough talk, bruh, we know you niggas ain’t about shit”) before sending off a barrage of threats, chest-puffers, and Californians-only references. When Vince remarks almost offhandedly that “I’m ready to kill, so test it, all my weapons is real,” there’s not too much left to question – not that you would be. This is the type of verse that makes careers.
4. earl sweatshirt - doris//kanye west - "new slaves (prod. lots of people)"
Over the last twenty days of December (and obviously 2013), I’ll be writing about my favorite twenty albums and songs of the year, one a day. Not best. Not most influential. Not most likely to land on a Complex slideshow. Just my favorite, ranked in order.
4. earl sweatshirt – doris
There are a lot of problems with Earl Sweatshirt’s return to the music scene: he lets himself get buffeted around by Domo Genesis and Vince Staples, he’s lost the tongue-in-cheek defiance that laced Earl, his voice is locked into a singular monotone pitch. But even given his unfortunate habit to mutter and drawl the majority of his verses, Doris still provides an incredible snapshot into the life of The Internet’s Prodigal Son. Earl was brought to fame by the Internet in a way that very few other celebrities have been – and most pointedly, he missed his own rise, having not made his return from Samoa until he’d already become the subject of a massive Internet movement (Free Earl). Earl’s an immensely talented artist (really, he makes golden children like Joey Bada$$ look comparatively amateurish) that hasn’t really gotten it all together yet, and Doris is a way for us to watch as he puts it all together. He’ll let Domo walk all over him on “20 Wave Caps” and just sit back as Tyler, The Creator turns his own song (“Sasquatch”) into a Wolf leftover, and then he’ll spring a masterpiece like “Sunday” or “Chum” on us. Part of the thrill is watching as spectators, knowing that brilliance is within reach, anticipating the next flash of transcendence. Earl’s an imperfect artist, and Doris is a reflection of that state as much as it’s a reflection of his anger, despair, and rebelliousness.
4. kanye west – “new slaves (prod. lots of people)”
“New Slaves” might encapsulate Yeezus and its attitude better than anything else on the album or anything Kanye West might say. It rattles into action with a slow buzzsaw synth quickly drowned out by distorted, unintelligible layered prattling before the first lines even hit acapella. Kanye and Co. are twisting familiar choir samples into the backing for a soundscape far more aggressive and cutting than anything we’d been used to as a fanbase – and if the cold synths weren’t a good enough indication of Kanye’s newfound anger, well, the second verse probably did the trick. That is, if you can even call it a verse, as it’s a mash of repeated lines and increasingly accusatory one-liners (like the now iconic “fuck you and your corporations, y’all niggas can’t control me”). It’s unclear how much of what Kanye is saying is actually factually correct (I’m pretty sure you can read and sign contracts, Kanye), logical (up for debate whether the DEA and the CCA are actually teaming up), or justifiable (there’s a whole ‘nother discussion to be had about the hypocrisy stretched across “New Slaves”). But forget all of that for a second, and recognize that this might be the bluntest and stripped-down Kanye has ever been, especially as he descends into particular madness towards the end of the second verse. This is the song from Yeezus that’ll stand the test of time.
And we haven’t even talked about that outro. That outro.
5. danny brown - old//pusha t - "numbers on the board (prod. don cannon & kanye west)"
Over the last twenty days of December (and obviously 2013), I’ll be writing about my favorite twenty albums and songs of the year, one a day. Not best. Not most influential. Not most likely to land on a Complex slideshow. Just my favorite, ranked in order.
5. danny brown – old
While 2011’s XXX was practically built to be a critical darling, Old (by design) is a lot more divisive. From its pseudo-double-disc structure (Side A sports a more traditional Danny Brown, while Side B is all massive festival material) to his general disregard for the types of songs that made him an indie darling a couple years ago (needless to say, songs like “Smokin’ & Drinkin’” completely lack the heart-baring transparency of songs like “XXX”), this is Danny striking out for a different musical path. But does that mean he’s put out a worse album? Hardly. It’s not just that Danny’s making a different kind of music, he’s just flashing a different skill set from the one we’re used to. For one, Danny’s the rare artist that can restrain himself from descending into repetitiveness even when he’s crafting bangers like “Dip”: it’s not all just “girls, molly, girls molly.” It’s easy to forget amongst the rattling basses and seizing synths that at his core, Danny’s from the gutters of Detroit – that is, until he hits you with a line like “Bankroll in my pocket so everybody know me/Went home and gave my mama three hundred for some groceries” (“Side B (Dope Song)”). It’s tough to say an artist going through musical changes is ever staying true to his roots, but that’s certainly what Danny’s doing. Getting better, too. Who’d have predicted that the man putting out Detroit State of Mind mixtapes a few years ago would be disguising escapism as mosh-pit churners?
5. pusha t – “numbers on the board (prod. don cannon & kanye west)”
“Unorthodox” wouldn’t be a bad way to describe the first single off of Pusha T’s first studio album with G.O.O.D. Music. The beat is brilliantly executed minimalism, riding off kitchen-pan percussion and a couple buzzing bass notes, a hip-hop instrumental stripped to its very core. The hook is a quick one-line snarl (“Ballers, I put numbers on the board”) interjected seemingly at random between short verses, and halfway through the song, Jay-Z circa 1997 busts through in the form of a sample for a half-bar. But at the same time, as unconventional as “Numbers on the Board” might be in relation to the rest of 2013 hip-hop, it’s still the same Pusha. Same push-ya-top-back chin thrusts (“Your SL’s missing an S, nigga/Your plane’s missing a chef”) and same slick drug rhymes (“I might sell a brick on my birthday/thirty-six years of doing dirt like it’s Earth Day, God”). And, of course, the same love for stripped-down beats – we can thank Pharrell and Chad Hugo for that affinity. This one is as raw as the kilos Pusha moved way back when.
Emile Tells All: The Stories Behind His Classic Records
“Bigger Than You”
I found Cudi browsing MySpace one day. He had ‘Day ‘n’ Nite’ on his MySpace and it had like, a few hundred listens. And I’m like, ‘Who the fuck is this? This song is a smash.“And I’m looking at his Top 8 friends, and I see Plain Pat. So I call Pat, and I’m like, ‘There’s this fucking guy, he has this amazing song, and you’re in his friends.’ And he’s like, ‘Yeah, he’s this new guy I got, I think I’m gonna manage him. That’s my dude, we’re just starting out. You should produce some shit for him.’
“The first song we ever did was ‘Bigger Than You,’ which leaked but it never came out. The title on the Internet is ‘Do It Alone,’ but it’s really called ‘Bigger Than You.’ That’s a cool song. I wish that song got more shine.
“It was supposed to be the intro for Man on the Moon. But Cudi left a CD in some dude’s car in Cleveland and dude put the whole thing on the Internet. So that ruined that song. But it’s a great song and the first thing we ever did.”
“Is There Any Love?” ft. Wale
“That was the second song ever I did with Cudi. I was listening to records with Cudi—that was our thing. Before I got into sitting at the piano and we would come up with songs, we would just listen to records, listening for samples and ideas.“I had this Trevor Dandy record, which is like this rare Canadian gospel record. We were listening to it and there was no question that it was amazing. The drums were there, it was all there in the song.
“I tend to sometimes overproduce things and ruin the sparseness of what we started with. That’s where a guy like Plain Pat being in the studio is so critical, because Pat was like, ‘Just fucking loop it.’
“I was trying to add all these keys and make it my own thing, but the music was amazing, so he was like, ‘Stop fucking around.’ Pat’s got the ear to tell you when to stop or when to change. And he was like, ‘Just loop it and leave it be.’
“It’s a straight loop off a gospel record. That’s all it needed to be. I added some keys on the chorus and changed the timing on it a little bit. Pat was the one who had the ill idea to put the 808s off a little, like in weirder spots. The 808s come in unexpected.
“Cudi would be at the studio hanging out a lot and Wale was always around. They were boys. Wale just put out his mixtape. They were peers, so we had the idea like, ‘What about putting him on the record?’ We did that and it turned into this mixtape classic.
“We put it out and it leaked, and that’s when things were starting to pick up with Cudi. Everything we did and put out, we got a good response on. That was the first thing we ever did that came out and saw the light of day.”