In The Crates by Hubert Sawyers III, 6/15/07

If you keep up with the news, you might know that the city of Detroit is basking in the success of its sports teams. If you are watching the same news, you are probably more aware of the painstaking economic predicament of the city. Or maybe you do not know about the poor economic state, but you know about the high crime rate and impoverished conditions that have plagued the city for years. Either way, Detroit probably is not going to be that high on your to-do lists on places to visit if you are not from the midwest. All the same, Detroit has one thing to be proud of, outside of world championship sport teams - its contributions to music.

From Motown to Iggy Pop to The White Stripes, Detroit has made an indelible mark on the music world. In terms of hip hop, the first name that would come to minds is undoubtedly Eminem, but on an underground level, acts like Slum Village, Jay Dee aka J Dilla, Royce da 5′9 and others make a lot of noise on their own accords. Unfortunately, Detroit’s hip hop scene has seen its own serious losses with the passings of J Dilla (super producer/rapper and former member of Slum Village) and Proof of D-12. The impact could be likened to the impact of 1967 riots, in which some say it will be a long time before the scene will recover from the loss of its highest ambassadors. We are left with the questions of “who is going to take up the slack?” and “who’s next?” While those are big shoes to fill, the latter question can be answered quite quickly and assuredly in the recent rise to fame of the multitalented Black Milk. Detroit hip hop’s legacy is in good hands behind this young wunderkind. Along with production credits lended to the likes of G-Unit’s Lloyd Banks and Organized Konfusion’s Pharoahe Monch, Black’s first official solo album, Popular Demand, came out recently on Fat Beats Records and was met with some serious buzz and critical acclaim. I got the chance to sit down and meet up with the rapper/producer to ask him about his genesis, his influences and his future.

Drop Magazine: All right man, we gotta start with the name. Where does it originate? Where did the name Black Milk come from?
Black Milk: (Laughs) Man, I did it when I first started rhyming and getting into hip hop and shit like that. That was around when I was about 15, 16, know what I’m sayin’. I just wanted something that was going to stand out and people like, “what the hell is that?!,” know what I’m sayin’. You know, Black Milk… [I] just wrote a bunch of words down on a piece of paper and Black Milk came together. Plus you know there’s other dudes around Detroit, like Eminem, Slum Villages and House Shoes, you know niggas with these weird ass names man. I was looking up to those dudes at the time. I guess, a bad choice of people to look up to (laughs) for the name, but Black Milk came along. But I’m glad I picked it; it stands out. (laughs)

DM: Now where did you grow up? Where are you from?
BM: West side, west side of Detroit. Puritan Avenue. Been there since forever. That’s where I grew up since forever. Since I was a young boy. I went to Cooley, not too far where I stayed.

DM: Now that you’re starting to blow, how much of your current notoriety do you think should be attributed to your work with BR Gunna and Slum Village?
BM: Man, you know Slum took me under their wing basically. After that… I gotta take you through the story now…

A cousin of mine and a friend of mine were cool with Slum at the time. They were cool with Baatin [original member of Slum Village]. They went out on the road with Slum one year, one summer. They were roadies. This was around the time I first started doing beats, so this is like ‘99, 2000, 2001. Went out on the road, [they] had a couple of my CDs. Played some of beats while they were on the road with Slum. Slum was feelin’ some of the stuff. They got back, they hollered at me. Went up to the studio, kicked it with them. They picked a couple tracks for the Trinity album and I just been working with them ever since.

I think I got a little bit of a buzz working with Slum, but I think… it was funny cause when I put out my own solo stuff, you know after the BR Gunna and the Slum thing… niggas knew my music, but they didn’t know I was even in BR Gunna. Like “Aww yeah, I know BR Gunna. I didn’t know you was in that group.” Some people thought it was one person. It still feel like I’m starting all over again, kind of. They trying to show people, expose the Black Milk name.

DM: You’re a pretty young dude. Now, you said you started making beats back in 2002?
BM: Naw, it was, uh… let me get it right. I was a sophomore, so that means it was ‘99 I started making beats. Yeah.

DM: And how long have you been writing rhymes?
BM: I’ve been writing before I started doing beats. I can’t remember. It was probably ‘96, two years before I started making beats.

DM: When did you record your first song? Do you even remember your first track?
BM: That was around ‘97 - ‘98, around that time. In a basement, with my cousins on the karaoke machine over on 8 Mile. They were into hip hop. They put me up on the SVs and A Tribe Called Quests. I got interested in writing lyrics. I don’t know the name of the song. I was just basically freestyling. I wasn’t even writing. That was like the first song. That’s crazy, I don’t actually remember the lyrics to any of that shit. I don’t know where the cassette tape is at.

DM: Now when did you feel you had a grasp of who you were as an artist? Listening to your music, you have a lot of confidence. You have a lot of swagger to your music. Where do you think that that comes from?
BM: I don’t know. I guess… out of the circle I run with, I’m the youngest. My mind state is at a young dude that wants some of the bling and somewhat of the baddest females and all that, so I guess that’s where some of that comes from… just me being young and wanting to live life. Well, not live that life… I mean, when you was young that’s what niggas wanted to do. So that’s where the lyric content comes from. I mean, I got my songs that have their substance to it and their concepts to it, but I like to have fun man and make feel-good music. Like I take the music serious, but I don’t try to be too deep or try to show how conscious I am about what’s going on. I do every now and again, but I’m the feel-good artist. The party, I want it played in the club. I mean, that’s me man. That’s what I’m doing.

DM: You’re on an independent label with Fat Beats. I’m sure you’ve heard the horror stories of the industry. Mainstream, underground, independent, whatever. How are you currently feeling about the situation?
BM: I’m a little anxious, because I feel like I’m in a place where I could really spread my wings and do what I want to. They have given me the freedom, basically. They put their trust in what I do. They was feeling the music before they signed me. That’s the reason they signed me; they were actual fans of the music. [I said] okay, I need to be here, so I can do what I want, and be creative without someone over my shoulder, trying to hold me back or trying to make me come with some music that I’m really not feeling. I feel good about it man. I feel after the Popular Demand album, this album is kinda in the same vein as Sound of the City and Broken Wax. So after this album, I’m going to be a little more experimental with the music. And Fat Beats, I think that’s the place I need to be to do that type of music.

DM: Do you have anybody you can go to as an elder to give you proper perspective in your music endeavors?
BM: I talk to T3 from Slum on the regular. I talk to him almost every couple of days. We talk about the game and what niggas should be doing to help their situation, you know make it better. I probably have to say T3. That’s one dude I kick it with, who put me on game. Denaun Porter (aka Kon Artis) has put me up on game from D-12, help me a little bit. Cats like that.

DM: On “Keep It Live,” Denaun basically called you the “next dude.”
BM: Yeah, which I wasn’t expecting.

DM: And a lot of people are looking to you to continue the strong tradition of creating the groundbreaking music that’s known to come out of this city. Are you ready to fulfill such a lofty expectation?
BM: Yeah man, like I told you earlier, I feel I like I was blessed with a talent just to be able to create what I hear in my head - to create good music for people. People are feeling it. I get more good criticism than bad. I feel like I’m good right now. I really don’t worry about losing the talent or my music starting to sound bad. I don’t really worry about that, ’cause it’s so many ideas and so many places I want to take the music. I don’t worry about that stuff man.

DM: Now making Popular Demand, you said you like making fun music. Do you have to be in a particular mood to create the music? Where were you mentally working on this project?
BM: I’m at the crib most of the time when I create music. So it’s like whatever mood I’m feeling for the day, when I put together the album, like okay I need this type of song on the album. I need the hype energetic songs on the album. That’s kind of how I put it together; I need a couple chick songs. That’s how I put it together - a few songs with concepts. Once I got all that together that’s where the production came into play. And I thought about how I wanted the beats to sound for the chick songs or the hype songs, so I’ll listen to some old school hip hop records or stuff from the mid-90s and see where I wanna take it or what vibe I wanna capture for the song I’m trying to do. That’s how it works, man. I think about like what was classic back in the day or classic not too long ago that people loved and what feeling that they feel. I wanna capture that same feeling from whatever record I’m listening to and bring it to today’s time. Have ‘em feeling the same way again, just re-innovative.

DM: Now the sound that’s on Popular Demand… like I know you said you’re doing these two projects, then you’re going to experiment with some other stuff. Would you say the current sound that people have become accustomed to is short-lived? Do you think people will be disappointed with the sound you’ll go with next?
BM: (Groans pensively) Nah man, I love Popular Demand, I love Broken Wax, I love Sound of the City. I’m just… each year, I grow musically. Really, each and every month. Almost every other week, I’m hearing something new and I’m trying to create a new style of music. It’s just a time where I feel like I’m growing musically and I just got new ideas - all the time, I got new ideas. But I kind of know what not to do. I know how far left I can go, because I done watched other artists try to go left and it really didn’t work; even though, they probably made a dope album - the fans didn’t connect with it. I kinda know how far left I can take it, before I really take it there.

DM: What are some of your beatmaking essentials? Does a kid like yourself need to be a certain mood? Do you make beats pissed of? I think about the MTV True Life joint with Swann where he is basically like ‘I gotta have sex to write.’ Are you a cat of that caliber?
BM: (Laughing) It really don’t matter the mood I’m in man. I have certain techniques I use every time I make a beat, you know what I’m sayin’. Whether I’m mad or if I’m cool for the day, you know, I’m chillin’ for the day, its like I have certain techniques that I’ma use regardless. Whether it’s choppin’ the drums how I chop the drums, or EQ the drums, EQ the samples, or stack the drums, whatever. I’ma use those same techniques for whatever beat I’m using, whether it’s a hype beat, a R & B, a hip hop, whatever. I use the same techniques every time.

DM: Listening to certain beats, like “Pressure”, I’m wondering if you are utilizing any other substance to inspire, you know, cause some of those beats got kinda a psychedelic vibe to ‘em. It’s just kinda interesting that a cat like yourself would create something like that… I mean you don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to but where are you extracting that from?
BM: (Laughs) Yeah, yeah, no it’s all good. Like I say, it goes back to if I’m listening to a certain record at the time or whatever I’m listening to in the ride, you know what I’m sayin’. I could be listening to some old Tribe Called Quest like, ‘damn, I remember this.’ I remember how I felt when I heard it, and I want to capture that same feeling. That’s all it be most of the time, man. I’m trying to not really copy what somebody did in the past, but it’s a certain feel, that people love, man, that hip hop. I just wanna bring that same feeling, that old school feeling, that classic hip hop, that’s all I’m tryin to bring. So when I did “Pressure”… I can’t even remember what I was listening to at the time, but it had to of been something with crazy atmosphere in it, man (laughing)… but yea, that came from a Tonita record. I was listening to an old Tonita record and I just wanted to do something that was boucy, and kinda crazy. That’s why I had the little snare rolling like that, and the sample bouncing like that, and the atmosphere coming in real loud on the hook. I was just trying to make something different.

And Broken Wax was one of those projects where I could kinda get loose, and kinda do what I wanted to, but I probably wouldn’t have put those same tracks on Popular Demand. Popular Demand is the album that showcases me, and I’m tryin’ to appeal to… not so much to the mainstream, but something that a regular cat can feel what I’m doin’. I’m tryin to get a lot of people to feel what I’m doing, so I didn’t want to go too far left. Broken Wax was a little [farther left], they let me be free on that shit.

DM: Now I know a lot of rappers would want to know this. If I copped a beat from you, if I had the chance, would you particularly care how the end result was? Or are you just more selective about who you work with since you seem to have more opportunity now.
BM: No, you know, I’ll work with anybody. It don’t really matter. It’s funny because some artists you get the chance to critique them, and tell ‘em, ‘nah, I ain’t really feelin’ that line,’ or ‘I ain’t really feelin’ that hook, go back in and redo the hook,’ or something. If you are in the studio with an artist that’s bigger then you, you can’t really say too much. You gotta let ‘em do what they doin’, and hope that they come out with the best product over your beat. That’s how it is. If I’m working with some underground dudes, I’ll give ‘em my opinion, sayin’ send it back. But I was in the studio with Pharoahe (Monch), and I’m like, I ain’t gonna say what I thought… even though both of the tracks that he rocked over was dope as hell. I didn’t really have any problems with nothin’ he recorded on, but if I did, I still wouldn’t have said nothin’ (laughing). I just would let him do his thing. It’s Pharoahe Monch, I wasn’t gonna say shit. I could do that with Slum, though now. I couldn’t do that in the beginning, but me and Slum have been working together for a minute, so my opinion is very valid when we do songs.

DM: Do you have any folks that you admire as far as sound quality, or production engineering, regardless of genre of music?
BM: On the engineering? I’m a fan of Bob Power, the guy who mixed the D’Angelo Voodoo album, and I think he mixed Brown Sugar and Like Water For Chocolate. The way he mixes is real warm and full. If I ever got the chance and came into a budget, that’s the dude I would probably go to.

DM: So do you consider yourself a record collector? And how particular are you about the records you have?
BM: The way I go about getting records, man, is you know, I just sit there with the portable turntable and just listen through the records until I hear something I like. Some records, you just gotta have as a producer, as a beatmaker. There’s just certain classic records you gotta have in your collection, so I buy those all the time, but I know a few artists or band members behind the music, and I’ll look out for those. Basically, though, I just sit there, man, try and hear something, and if I don’t hear nothing, I’m out the store (laughing). No matter how classic it is, or how much the record cost, if I don’t hear nothing, I’m not gonna buy it.

DM: So you wouldn’t say that you have a lot of records that you don’t necessarily want or need in your collection?
BM: I mean, I probably got a few duds here or there, that there’s really nothing on, but I’m not the type to try and go resell my records back. Everything I bought, I’ma keep it.

DM: This is kinda a subjective thing, but sampling is now basically a solidified method of making music. You’ve got rock cats like Beck, and TV on the Radio - their latest CD’s got sampling on it. Do you feel any responsibility to create worthwhile productions to fend off the ’sampling isn’t art’ types? And what about the opinions of other sampling aficionados? You’ve got certain cats that only respect a cat like Madlib or Cut Chemist because those dudes come up with some bonkers stuff that no one knows about, as opposed to a Diddy that will…

BM: Loop it up.
DM: Yea, and not even just that. He’ll do stuff like back in ‘98 when he would just loop like any Donna Summers song.
BM: I think there is an art to it. I know people that don’t really fuck with the sampling thing. I don’t wanna say they against it, but they don’t understand it. They like, ‘man, just make the original music from scratch.’ It is an art to it. It is a technique. It’s only a handful of producers who really have that technique down, that’s really respected in what they do, and don’t have to use live instrumentation. It is an art, but I feel like it can get gimmicky sometimes. I feel like it’s starting to be a lot of people who think they can just chop up a record and be a producer. I sample a lot but I still know about music. I know about arrangement. I know about how the hooks should come, and how the bridge should break down… I know about all that shit. Even though, sometimes I might just loop up a record to spit over it. It’s an art though, man, either you got it or you don’t.

DM: Now do you have any rules to records that you will or will not use for sampling?
BM: Man, I don’t really mess with the popular artists. Unless it’s just really bananas man, I don’t really mess with the Aretha Franklins, or the Stevie Wonders. I’ll get it just to listen to, but I’m not gonna sample it, because I know its gonna be a problem tryin’ to clear it. There’s really no point to tryin’ to sample those. I use the more, low key, hard to find artists.

DM: Now changing the angle here, let’s speak on the late, great J Dilla. Now you actually had a chance to work and hang out with him. He has been canonized as a hip hop saint in Detroit and around the world. What would you say you got out the time you spent with him and even just examining his catalogue of work, knowing that people are gonna look at you (being a rapper/producer from Detroit) as kinda the same type of cat?
BM: The thing I caught from him was just stayin’ consistent. He was just puttin’ out good music year after year, even when his sound changed. The dude could just flip any genre of music and make it sound bananas, dog (laughing). It was crazy, every year it was a new sound, but it was still Dilla, it was still creative, and it was just fresh man. That’s one thing I took from him, just learning how to make something out of nothing. That plus… I don’t know, what can you say man, its Dilla.

I know a lot of cats look at me because of the producer/rapper thing, plus I’m from Detroit, plus I work with Slum Village, and a lot of people in that same circle, but I feel like I got the co-sign from Dilla once I worked with him on more than a couple of occasions. I got to work with him on like 3 or 4 different tracks, and he gave me the co-sign right there like, ‘keep doin’ your thing.’ That was good, and I’m on the right path, but I don’t wanna copy his style, or do what he did beat wise or with the lyrics. Anything I wanna do that Dilla did is just be consistent for years to come and just keep putting out good music. No matter who I’m working with at the time, no matter what the hot sound is at the time, as long as its good music, I’m good.

DM: How do you feel about how so much of our local talent has to leave Detroit to succeed. Virtually no one lives in Detroit anymore except for Elzhi, T3, and the super-successful dudes like Eminem.
BM: Yea, see that’s one of the reasons that I feel like I need to leave. Some days I’ll be like ‘man, they don’t really appreciate…’ It’s a small community (in Detroit) that really appreciate the real Detroit hip hop type shit. There’s a place for everybody, but I feel like certain people that is in the position of power give too much light. They’re not versatile or open enough to accept other artists with other styles of music. Like the radio here, Detroit radio. I really don’t wanna say they don’t support the hometown talent, but it’s only a handful. There’s so many different types of artists here with so many different styles of music, its like man, come on. You’re supposed to be showing - not everybody love, but certain people in the music game that show potential - love, but they don’t. So its like, that’s why niggas leave. People appreciate Detroit music so much in Cali and New York, or overseas. If I left, that would probably be one of the biggest reasons, just because I’d probably feel like I need to go somewhere where the music is appreciated more.

DM: Now if you weren’t making music, what do you think you would be doing right now?
BM: Man, I would probably be playin’ basketball or something, trying to go it to the league. I’d probably be in college playin’ b-ball. That’s what I was doing before I really got into music. I was playing for (Detroit) Cooley for a couple years, I was just ballin’ tryin’ to be in the NBA. It was weird, I went from that to finding my ear for music, and shit just changed. I don’t even really hoop like that anymore.

DM: Lastly, is there anything in particular that you hope people will get out of listening to your music? You can slice it up, like in the rhyme category, or when they listen to your beats. Is there anything in particular that you want them to get out of your stuff?
BM: I want people to see that I have the ability to hang in with the best of them on the rhyme tip with the style and the flow, the patterns, you know all that, the concepts. I want people to forget that I’m a producer when they hear my songs. I think my beats kinda overshadow my lyrics sometimes, because the majority of people know me from making beats, so they lookin’ for the beats first. Which is cool, but I do want people to understand that I’m a dope MC just as much as I’m a dope producer.

I’m not really tryin’ to create a new sound or new movement, I just wanna be known as that artist that puts out good music, all the time. Like, ‘damn, Black never put out no wack shit.’ And if they see my name on it, they know its gonna be good, they don’t even have to listen to it. That’s where I’m at right now. I’m just trying to build a name for myself as that dude that’s just doin’ good music. I wanna be able to come back to the D, and hook up with other artists I wanna work with, to be able to produce they whole project and niggas don’t even care who’s rappin’. They just see who produced the beats and wanna fuck with it. It’s like if Dr. Dre put someone on. That’s where I’m at right now.

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