Killer Mike: “Hip-Hop Is Supposed To Shock & Surprise”

Throughout his 10-plus years in the music industry, Killer Mike has established himself as one of hip-hop's strongest and most uncompromising voices. From his 2003 debut Monster to last year's collaborative effort with El-P, R.A.P. Music, the Atlanta veteran has continually delivered a fully rounded view into his world, complete with political diatribes, gangsta braggadocio and strip club-ready symphonies.  Now, XXL chops it up with "The Elegant Elephant" about connecting with El-P over hip-hop fandom, his early beginnings with the Slumlordz and why Atlanta's next crop of musical acts is one that will flip the script on modern hip-hop.

XXL: I was reading an interview you and El-P did with the Village Voice last year, I guess it was right before R.A.P. Music came out, you said something about the two of you coming together and being from such different regions and sectors of music, and it was kind of like an implosion of the underground rap scene. Would you say that’s an accurate description of the album?
Killer Mike: People were surprised that we got together. They were actually shocked and awestruck. But El-P and I are around the same age, we grew up in the same era of hip-hop. When we get together, it’s just two sixteen-year-old kids. That’s the most honest depiction I can give. If your parents shipped your ass off to summer camp, you’re in summer camp in the middle of fuckin’ nowhere and you find this one other kid that’s on the hype that you’re on. So for us, it’s as natural as putting my foot in a pair of Nikes in the morning. For us, it’s that easy. The fact that other people were marveled by this stuff, it’s dope, but me and El are friends. We’re friends because we’re similar and we’re also friends because we’re so different. Our differences really balance one another. So within three days of recording together, we knew it was magic—you know? It doesn’t shock me, but I can definitely understand the surprise that people had and I’m happy that it’s been received so well.

That description of it as an implosion of the underground scene — isn’t that what rap is supposed to be?
That’s what’s supposed to happen. Hip-hop is supposed to shock and surprise and cause awe and amazement. Ex-fuckin-xactly. What would hip-hop have been if Ice Cube hadn’t gotten on that plane to New York and recorded with the Bomb Squad. What would’ve happened if Scarface decided not to do the Def Jam album with Kanye. What would’ve happened if Jay-Z hadn’t decided to go down south and do the remix for Juvenile. How far would hip hop not have gone if those things happened? Outkast wouldn’tve been on the New Jersey Drive soundtrack. This stuff is supposed to happen. It’s supposed to shock, it’s supposed to do things that you don’t expect, and on the other side of that shock is supposed to be some dope ass shit, and I think El and I accomplished that.

Do you think that surprise that a lot of critics felt was partly a result of the kinds of constructs that people have with what's supposed to be hip-hop?
Absolutely. Not just by critics, but by regular people. Look at the average Twitter: ‘#Team-this,’ ‘#team-hair-natural’, ‘#teambraids’—fuck a team, find a friend. Everyones like, ‘Yo—I’m on the team! I’m underground with El!’ I don’t want you on my team, I just want you to like dope shit. Have your own team. Me and El are dope and we do dope shit together and that’s good enough. I don’t understand why people who listen to he and I wouldn’t think that we would think alike. We rap about a lot of the same shit in very different ways. We rap about a lot of the same shit in a very different way. It’s the marriage of a pessimist and an optimist, it’s the marriage of a white guy and a black guy, it’s the marriage of a Northerner and a Southerner. There are a lot of differences, but those differences make for a great fucking recipe. Right now we’re working on an album together, we’ll talk more about that in a few months.

Going back to that, that you and El came together and shocked so many people, you both have pretty deep connections to underground hip-hop. El had Company Flow and Rawkus, and you worked with the Slumlordz before.
Oh shit, you do your fucking homework. We’re gonna reissue that original Slumlordz demo. That demo was - I’ve been arguing with part of my management team about guns all day. I took a picture of a South African multiple round shotgun that was made to shoot black people. I took a picture of one of those that my homie owned and a Mac 11, and I went in with the pictures to a copy center at the bottom of the United Way building and I typed it out and made it right there, pressed up our own CDs with a CD burner that I had bought and put them together and we got those bitches out during Freaknik.

So this is '96-'97.
Big [Boi] saw me three years prior to signing me, just like, ‘I like what you’re doing, I’m gonna get a record company to get you a deal.” I grinded my ass off the next few years just staying out of jail and maneuvering through the streets. But yeah — that Slumlordz shit was hard. We sampled ‘Teen Spirit’ on that shit, made some shit called, “Bust Ya Gats” — that shit was ill as fuck. We had a joint called “Murder City” on there. It was like an EP, just three or four joints, but it was hard as steel.

Do you have a date for the re-release?
Here’s the thing, I’ve become a professional musician, I have all these fuckin’ insecurities about the sound and the mixes and shit, and I finally decided to just say ‘fuck it.’ We’re just trying to find a way to do it that’s creative and dope, and to be honest, my guy Will, who’s another member of the management team, is like, ‘we need to beef up the number of people hitting KillerMike.com, so that when we do it, it doesn’t just sit on the shelves.’ We’re gonna do it.

I tried looking for it online, obviously I couldn’t find it. What was the sound like? I know that with Devin the Dude solo and the Odd Squad have totally different sounds.
What I’ve been attempting to do my whole career is find the sound that I found with El, and when you listen to the Slumlordz record, which you’re gonna say is what R.A.P. Music became, Mike had been searching for that. Like I said, we sampled Metallica, we sampled Nirvana, we sampled [Black] Sabbath. That’s what we were sampling because the grooves were heavy and the drums were. When you sample Led Zeppelin, you’re really getting a Black rhythm section almost, because the drums are on some damn near soul shit they’re so funky and dope. We sampled that and it was heavy and it was hard and it was dark and it was in your face. It was the seedlings for what I became on R.A.P. Music. Put it like this—you’re gonna like it. We were rapping our motherfuckin’ - we were sellin’ dope, shooting at people and rapping. Not on record, before we made the records, and then we'd rap about it. Like no bullshit, we’d sell dope all weekend, Zach and them would rob people and then we’d go to the studio and just make music about it.

Who else was in the group at the time?
It was me, my man Big Zack, and my man Taye. Taye is the uncle of two of my children, he’s up in Missouri now, he’s a demo assistant. Big Zack actually runs Grind Time Studios out of his place. We’re gonna get a bigger place. Zach and I are thinking about opening up a chicken wing or burger place together, I still think he’s one of the most incredible lyricists I’ve ever heard. I still don’t think I rap as good as him, but those are the breaks—I somehow managed to get on. I rep that Slumlord shit ‘til the day I die, as I said.

Are there any plans to reunite?
I’m gonna do some shows that are just like nostalgia shows for people who supported--. Think about it: if it wasn’t for kids like you, the Pl3dge series wouldn’t have gotten the attention it got. When I drop Pl3dge 4, I’m gonna do a concert where I only play records that are given to me--. I ask people on Twitter sometimes, ‘What records do you want to see me do?’ So I’m gonna have my fans put a list of Pl3dge records that they want to see me do, and we’re gonna shoot a video for “That’s Life” and some other cool shit, and I’m gonna do that concert and I’ll probably have Zack come up and we’ll do “Murder City” or something.

Back to the new album, before we got on the Slumlordz shit—
You’re so fuckin' - you’re my favorite forever for that. Real G shit, you get to call me at 3 in the morning like, ‘Yo, Mike — what’s up?’ And not only because it acknowledges what I did, but I really feel like Zack and Taye are two of the most creative and dope people that I was blessed to begin my musical career with. So just the fact that somewhere on the job they’re gonna get that shine. Zachary Nichols, Octavian Prince — it’s because of them that I’m here.

You and El-P, since you did come up with these deep underground roots, did you ever have that conversation where you guys broke down your careers before this album?
Yeah—we talk about it all the time. El is one of the most honest, real and candid people I’ve ever met. Our conversations are just brotherly and free-flowing, so we don’t sit and commiserate and reminisce about the struggles or even the celebratory parts. It just comes up matter-of-factly like--. I remember a conversation where he was talking about the decision to close Def Juxx. That was a tough decision, but in order to be the artist and create the way he needed to and his fans deserved, he had to stop trying to be a business man in the same capacity. He had to let that thing go its way so he can become the guy who did Cancer 4 Cure and R.A.P. Music. He’s still the same El, but he’s focused on him and he doesn’t have to take as much care of the people around him. I never thought anyone felt like that until he said that.

For those that know and for those that don’t know—the facts are, Atlantic didn’t discover Pill. I discovered Pill. Not like, ‘Oh, I’m responsible for Pill’s career,’ but I discovered him in a fuckin’ high school cafeteria, and when he graduated, I brought him out on the road like, ‘You’re dope as fuck!’ SL Jones didn’t just pop up this year. SL Jones has been on virtually every Killer Mike record for the last seven years. Someone was trying to play this other kid to me and I’m like, ‘Who the fuck is that kid?’ And they were like, ‘SL,’ and I’m like, “Yo—I want him to get to the studio tonight.” We were just out at SXSW and I brought him onstage and SL was just like, ‘Man—I just want to thank you because when you brought me on, you weren’t like, ‘Imma change your life, I gotchu,’ you were like, ‘Imma give you an opportunity to make something,” and he’s done it. So when I see Jones and Pill, I’m proud as fuck, but it hurt me the years that I had them right by my side that I couldn’t propel them to the light they are now, and they deserve it because they are that dope. That pain is a pain that you don’t know.

People talk shit about the Jay-Zs, they talk shit about the Puffys, but you guys haven’t had to be responsible for eight other peoples lives before—that’s a lot of fuckin’ pressure. Having El validate that for me, relieved me of the guilt and the pain of not being able to do for them what I wanted to do for them. Also, it put my in a place where I was at ease because I knew I could now do what I deserve for me, and I could still continue to cheer them. When Pill calls me and says, ‘Mike—I’m having a reception, I want you to come.’ If I can’t make it, I wish him the best and I’ll bring him a gift later or if he’s got a show, I’ll go. If Jones has a show, I’ll go. I can celebrate them in the same way, because I’m not responsible for them in the same way—you know what I mean? I can celebrate them as my brothers and I love them, and I don’t have to go home like, ‘Why won’t anybody sign them? They’re so dope.’

I don’t have that, so El—that’s one of the overlaps that we had that really helped me understand that my whole and total focus needs to be on being the best Killer Mike and brand that I can be because that’s all I can really control. I was grateful to him for sharing that. We’re doing another Underground Atlanta, too. We just started pre-production.

I remember that was a big record.
That was a big record. All the people that are famous now were on it.

Young ralph was on there…
Yep, Ralph was on there, Rich Kids was on there, B.o.B. was on there, Pill was on there, Jones was on there, Gucci was on there, we couldn’t get Waka at the last minute for whatever reason, but yeah—a lot of dope people. The only person the might not have been on there that’s famous now was Trinidad and Titty. Titty was supposed to be on there, I just never made it down to the studio to get the verse. So, yeah.

Underground Atlanta 2 — is that gonna be looking for more young talent?
Absolutely. That’s what Underground Atlanta is about. Underground Atlanta is about whatever is truly going on in the underground. I think conceptually now what I’m thinking is, I would like to marry new raw talent with seasoned people who I like who may not have gotten full shine. Like Ralph is gonna be back, because I’m probably the biggest Young Ralph fan. You’re definitely gonna hear Ralph back. With that, I would love to also put Dreamer on there. I would love to put Skip Wilson on there, I’d love to put these other kids that are on the other underground scene that’s not necessarily ‘street’. Those Two9 kids—I just heard about them—those mother fuckers are dope. I want to give they’re whole crew verses and invite them on.

To me, Underground Atlanta is very little about me personally, but very much about me giving back to the scene that fostered me, that deserves the respect and that doesn’t necessarily get it. Because Atlanta is an industry city—and that’s not to castigate or say that’s wrong, but Atlanta is a city that’s radio, video, children and women. If children and women like [inaudible 29:04] and you’re on radio and video, you’re the man in Atlanta. But there’s this whole burgeoning group of artists that need some like, and if me being more famous now helps bring light to them, that’s what I’m gonna do.

You mentioned Two9 and Trinidad James—it seems like they have a new movement in Atlanta stirring up. Maybe they’re just at the front of it, but it seems almost like the ‘90s in New York with the Rawkus guys coming up—El-P and all of those guys. Do you see anything in them that you recognize from when you were coming up?
Absolutely. They get laughed at, they get looked at like sidekicks a lot of the times, they get misunderstood because it doesn’t fit radio format. All underground artists go through the same struggles. What I really admire about them, though, is their firm commitment to independence. They’re gonna sign big deals—Trinidad did, congratulations to him, but it got worked because J Dirrt was working his ass off up here and Trinidad’s team was working their asses off. It was very grassroots and boots-to-the-ground, and that’s the type of determination and grit and zeal that I admire out of the young artists there. And I think that you’ve gotta give a lot of props to Tree Sounds as a studio and as a company, because Tree Sounds is fostering a lot of...they’re giving underground artists the rates that they can afford to get in and make the type of recordings that merit them being next to the big guys. So shouts out to Molly and Gru Paul.

Stankonia [Studios] has transformed. Stankonia used to be OutKast’s studio and OutKast worked there and people equal to OutKast worked there. But in the transition with Dre not being as active on the musical front and Big being very active and touring, Big has opened the studio up to these young artists. Royal Flush is a production team that’s working out of there. They’re working with Spree Wilson. They’re doing cool shit with Dreamer, they have rappers from fuckin’ Freddie Gibbs to the guys from Pac Div running through there. They’ve just got these big, beautiful studios that have good prices and have atmospheres that creativity is happening in. So a lot of good things are going on to support the underground in Atlanta right now. Thanks to Tree sounds and thanks to Stankonia.

Is there anything like the Nuryorican Poets Café in Atlanta, where young artists get together and build their craft?
Red Cup parties, what Sean Falyon does, Beer & Tacos—but to be honest, I’m outta the city. I’m touring, I’m not there as much. But Fadia Kader, who's over at Complex now, and Key have done a great job of promoting and giving people opportunities. And my white boy, Brian Parks. What was the name of the parties they used to do at the Drunken Unicorn? They’re the reason Yelawolf got his performance bones off in Atlanta. There are tons of little promoters in Atlanta that are doing these little intimate cool things that’s not about, ‘I gotta sell out the bar and make a million dollars!’ It’s really about showcasing the talent, giving artists an opportunity to get stage experience and sell some merch and keep pushing. That scene helped revitalize me, that scene helped birth people like Wolfey, Pill, Jonesy is on that circuit right now. So I think Atlanta is a great breeding ground for that.

There’s tons of cool shit to do in Atlanta to become something. You’ve just gotta work hard and stay at it. Oh—and the New Era store. The New Era store there does a very cool thing. They do these open mics once a month. I host it I think in December or January. Not to give them more accreditation over anyone else because the Beer & Tacos and the Red Cup parties are things that are organic and smaller and really dope. With that said, New Era is a corporation that doesn’t have to do it, but they have great management over there, and those guys understand that selling hats is cool, but supporting the culture that buys the hats is even cooler. So shouts out to the New Era store in Atlanta too for the good work they do. I’m about to start something. We haven’t come up with a name for it yet, but me and my DJ—DJ Trackstar—we do the Educated Villains podcast, and we play music from all these artists we just named and artists that are burgeoning and coming up, as well as some stuff nationally that we like and that’s dope, but I want to be able to get small rooms to actually bring the people through that I like and have them do shit too.