LONG FORM
terraforming the rap world
Interview by Mike Nicholls | Photography by Alexander Richter
The conversations have been edited down for brevity.
Terraforming is the hypothetical process of deliberately modifying the atmosphere, temperature, surface topography or ecology of a planet, moon to the environment of Earth to make it habitable for humans to live on.
Rap duo Armand Hammer has been terraforming the rap world since their debut album “Race Music” in 2013, making hip-hop culture habitable for people who love paradigm shifts in lyrical content and expansive Black perspectives. However, individually Elucid and billy woods have been making their mark long before then. I’ve personally been a fan of their music since 2019, with their album “Parrafin” on Backwoodz Studioz records—a label billy woods independently started back in the early 2000s. They’ve collaborated on albums with artists such as The Alchemist and Kenny Segal. On their newest critically acclaimed release, “We Buy Diabetic Test Strips,” they collaborated with JPEG MAFIA, El-P, Shabaka Hutchings, DJ Haram, Preservation, and many more. The album is a visceral sonic exploration of Blackness, critical thinking, and observation through a genre-bending hip-hop lens.
In the midst of their 2023 “We Buy Diabetic Test Strips” Tour I got a chance to chat with them separately, Elucid in NYC and billy woods while in Switzerland. We talked about their earliest rap memories, hip-hop journey and their creative process in making music. Let’s get this convo started with the man, the myth, Elucid.
Elucid
Mike Nicholls: So I really want this conversation around your journey in hip-hop, as it relates to you as an artist and just as a fan of hip-hop, you know what I’m saying? And then we can go into your music.
Elucid: Bet. I like that.
So, what was your earliest hip-hop memory?
Man, earliest hip-hop memory. I grew up in a family of musicians, my uncle is a DJ. Maybe the earliest hip-hop memory might be like coming home from school and turning on the TV to Ralph McDaniels’ Video Music Box and seeing Eric B. & Rakim Microphone Fiend video. And I remember that just sticking because there was a kid who looked like he might’ve been my age, like beating the box with the bat. And I was like, yeah. [laughter]
Oh, my gosh. Yeah. People thought that that was maybe his kid.
Right. “Was that Rakim’s kid, was it Eric B.’s kid?” Somebody’s kid was in there. We looked like we might’ve been the same age. And I was like, yeah, this is fly.
Yeah man, I remember that video, dude. I’m assuming you’re from New York, right?
I’m born and raised in New York, yes.
What was your first memory of it being more than just rap? ‘Cause I guess if you’re from there, then you kind of have seen hip-hop in all forms
Yeah. It’s kind of always been there. If you think about my uncle being a DJ, I remember him practicing, just cutting up, scratching, trying to blend. You know what I mean? I’m a child, I’m like 5, 6, 7 years old. When he leaves, I’m like trying to grab a chair, sidle up to the table, stand up so I can scratch, breaking needles, [laughter] him coming home like, “Yo, who touched my needle?” You know what I mean? As a kid I also was involved in break dancing, a lot of us kids were doing, right on the block of 142nd Street in Queens.
There’s stories of me break dancing at my uncle’s wedding. I was the ring bearer. I lost the ring, but they found it somewhere at the reception. [laughter] There’s photo evidence of this wild moment.
But yeah, this is also the ’80s, when hip-hop had taken over Hollywood. Man, that Turbo and Ozone scene in Breakin’ 2: Electric Boogaloo, like most for kids that time, impacted me. So it’s like me seeing that and trying it at home. In addition to my uncle throwing block parties, De La Soul would be at his house, not knowing who De La Soul was at that moment. I’m a child, but I’m around this, you know?
Oh, Lord.
Yeah. I’m seeing it in the flesh and I’m seeing it on the screen. So, it was there from a very, very young age. Also this is Southside Jamaica, Queens in the ’80s. This is like the home of Fat Cat, Jamaica Avenue, Colosseum Mall. I probably saw rappers as a child. I’m definitely seeing people with big truck jewelry looking fly but it was always around though.
So when did the love of seeing this on screen and in real life, inspired you to be a part of this? I guess you kind of started... when you were trying to be a DJ because your uncle was doing it, or?
I never aimed to take the DJ thing too seriously; it was more about access. As a kid, I wasn’t supposed to touch my uncle’s tables, but I couldn’t resist trying. Breakdancing and sports were my early passions. In addition, I loved reading and writing. But during a year off from sports in high school, I fell hard for music. With tables at my disposal, that off year became a musical journey. By senior year, my love for music eclipsed sports, and all I wanted to do was write rhymes and make songs. At this point, my uncle is still DJing.
He had local acts that he was producing for, and he had equipment in his house. And I think my mom had told him that I was making music or she found a tape and she heard that it was me. So she was like, “Yo, you should go to your Uncle Chuck’s house, DJ Stitches.” And, yeah, I started going over there and we just started making tapes. So we’re talking 16, 17 when this obsession really started. And I was just like, “yo, I want to be an MC!”
Give me a timeline. What year is this?
We’re talking between 1998-2000. Around that era.
Did you try to make a demo?
Oh, completely. This is also the time of America Online free discs. You remember that? You get it in the mail and you have 500 hours free America Online... [laughter]
We scored an old computer from the community center, where my dad did construction gigs. Not top-notch, but it got me online with those weekly discs. It was a revelation. One of the early hip-hop online scenes was through DVD and BOMB Magazine. Back then, my hip-hop scope was limited to The Source or maybe Vibe. But BOMB was more of an underground vibe.
I discovered people selling music, so that inspired me to create demos and tapes and also sell them online. I stumbled upon my first compilation, seven songs from those early room recordings, on YouTube recently. It's a time capsule, a reminder of selling tapes by mailing them to someone who, decades later, uploaded it on YouTube, gaining a modest 300 views. These were the raw beginnings before my uncle’s studio sessions.
Crazy, dude.
Super wild. I definitely was on a message board situation selling my music... Who did I think I was?
[laughter]
Well, it’s funny. So the song I heard you on this CD I bought back in ’07, ’08.
Oh, wow.
It was on an album by J*Davey. [laughter] I was listening to it a few months back and I was like, wait a second. Oh, shit, Elucid is on this song. I think the song was La La Land or something like that.
Yeah.
Was that your first released song or placement?
That may have been the very first sort of national placement. Because yeah, they had a situation with a major label, it ended but that project came immediately after the dissolution of that. So yeah, people heard it. It was out there. J*Davey was at the forefront of a particular wave of R&B, soul music. I think Sa-Ra Creative Partners was around at this time as well. LA was bubbling. Blu was super steaming hot. Yeah, LA was really bubbling at the time. And I had met Bri and Brook of J*Davey through a homie, George. And George hooked me up with them and we did that song. And yeah, that kind of got out there a little bit.
Wow. [laughter]
No one ever talks about that.
Did you release any solo projects before Armand Hammer?
Yeah, there were quite a few but Bandcamp releases, really.
Okay. Word up.
I never really had an official kind of situation in that game. And so Save Yourself, which was the first album on Backwoodz but before then, there were numerous sorts of Bandcamp albums that I had done, just kind of taking people’s beats, from rock bands to electronica. It was like the blog era, right? Like that’s kind of like the lost age, a lot of history has kinda disappeared, you know.
I know, dude.
That’s totally when I came into myself as a solo artist, fully confident in what I was doing as an emcee, like I am an emcee. I’m a grown ass EMCEE right now! [laughter]
Yo, both yourself and billy wood’s pocket as lyricist is ridiculous, dude. When did you find your pocket as an MC? When was that moment where, “oh, this is the way I’m going to rap. I’m going to rap this way.”
That era. I think it was that era of, I got really free in a way that I was able to focus on this music and thinking about the larger scene in New York City and wishing for something different, to be honest. I felt this was the dark ages in New York City and just maybe rap in general... But I felt like the scene was dead or dying or something and people were like, “oh, we’re not doing this sort of underground rap,” and I never even liked the distinction underground rap, whatever. Y’all call what I’m doing underground, plus don’t see value in it. You know what I mean?
Yeah. Yeah.
That is that I just kind of burrowed down and never really stopped. And I think that burrowing is like I found myself, I found my style and continued to tweak it and develop it. Yeah, that’s what we got today. But I feel that that era ’06, ’05, ’04 is when I definitely found something in myself.
And I don’t like doing comparisons. I’m just gonna say this for the sake of conversation. I’m not trying to do that, but I feel like what you and billy woods are doing is sort of like this post-Def Jux world, right? When El-P left Company Flow and started with Cannibal Ox and Aesop Rock, there were groups like The Arsonists.
Do you feel like what you all are doing in Backwoodz is the same space or universe?
Hmm. I don’t think we’re in the same universe, but I definitely see how you can make that connection. And I would say that’s probably pretty accurate, you know? But yeah, we’re doing our own sort of thing. But yeah, I love that stuff. I loved Company Flow. I loved Ox. I was a big fan of both. We definitely touch on some similar themes in different ways, this sort of post 9/11 New York City. You know what I mean? But, yeah, I could definitely see that and shout out to El-P, you know? We definitely connected from him making the beat for The Gods Must Be Crazy on our new album.
Dude, that beat is nuts.
Hanging out with him for a little bit kinda felt like, oh, I kinda know this guy. Or we have similar things that we pull from or observe, just living here in New York City, and the way we maybe process all the... And the experience, you know what I mean? I think we do it in similar ways. So yeah, I could definitely see that connection, man.
So, with that being said, I think the first time I actually really heard of Backwoodz is from you all. I don’t even know how I found out about Armand Hammer. I’m not really sure how, but Paraffin was the first album I bought off of Bandcamp and just was like...
Oh, wow!
Who are they? What is this? I don’t understand what’s happening right now? And it was just so refreshing to hear it. And when I talk to people about your music, I’m like, well, they’re like free jazz, you know what I’m saying? Freeform jazz, hip-hop. It’s like Bebop, swing or hard bop.
It’s running away from you. You know? [laughter]
Yeah. Yeah.
But it’s gonna catch you. [laughter] It’s running away and gonna catch you at the same damn time.
Yeah, man. So talk about your process of your solo work versus Armand Hammer. So I don’t know if you know this, one, you guys are one of my top 50 MCs. That’s one thing. And two, that Betamax song… Lord, have mercy, yo.
Oh, man.
Betamax is one of my top 50 rap songs.
Yo, thank you, bro.
Yeah, man. Talk about your process as a solo emcee and how is it different when you’re working with billy on Armand Hammer?
Oh, yeah. It’s mad similar. It’s really the same process. Working with woods is easier. Because sometimes I’ll do something and I may not have a feeling about it. I don’t know how... I did the thing, I wrote it, I recorded it, I performed it in the studio and I might not think anything about it, but Woods might go like, “Yo, that’s fire.” [laughter] And that song, that will become an Armand Hammer. So he would add a verse, write a chorus or whatever, like, that’s the song, you know? So sometimes it’s nice for someone to just recognize what I maybe didn’t see the value of in the particular moment. That makes it a little bit easier.
The music tells me what to do and shout out P.U.D.G.E., for that beat on Betamax. It’s the beat that tells me what to say every time, I’m listening to the drums, I’m listening to the melody and I’m looking for where I could stand in or jump in, really. It’s a Double Dutch thing, [laughter] and I’m jumping in. And say this opening line that’s gonna get your attention.
There was one line where you said, “meet me in the float tank.” And I’m not sure if you’re meaning the sensory deprivation tank, which...
Completely.
Dude, I’ve done it like seven times. It is the best thing ever.
I do love a good float. So there was somebody in the Bay who when we were out there, they gave me a bunch of guest passes to one of the float tanks out there. Anyway, so I’m looking forward to redeeming that next time I’m out west. But, yeah man,
So before going to your show here in Oakland at the New Parrish I was imagining who will be there. And then I saw several Black women show up like, oh, shit. They were like in the front to my left, probably your right and...
Yes. I remember this.
They seemed like they were engaged. They knew your music. So, talk about when you’re writing from your perspective, right? Are you ever surprised of who’s in the crowd based upon the work that you’ve done?
Yeah, completely. Since we put out our album Haram with The Alchemist, that’s when we really started to tour the country and the world. I’m not so sure if I’ve seen the shift overseas, but in America, yeah constantly surprised of who’s coming to our shows, who’s checking for our music. Because it’s a lot of different people and it’s not people that maybe that I think people... Someone, a random person who you would give this record to listen to who had no idea who we were. And they were like, well, who do you think would listen to this record? I don’t think that they would generate the image of who shows up, you know? Youngest kid who came to our show was like 13... They came with their nanny.
Wow!
You know what I mean? I love seeing more and more Black faces at our shows. [laughter] That feels like it’s happening in droves, you know? It’s like, oh, y’all showing up for us. And I love it. Because it wasn’t always that way, you know what I mean? The sort of “underground rap thing” comes with, oh, “it’s that white boy shit,” or rap shows full of white boys. You know what I mean? ’Cause there’d be Black women at our shows, there’d be trans folks at our shows. There’d be... It’s just a lot of different folks that are checking for Armand Hammer, which is like, it surprises me and I love it and welcome it all, you know what I mean?
Yeah, man.
It’s cool to merch lines and see it with my own eyes... When I’m on stage, oftentimes I can’t really see individuals, you know what I mean? I see everybody. So at the merch table is when I’m seeing people in their face and I’m talking to you like, “Oh, what’s good?” You know? I mean... And it’s like, that range is kind of crazy. [laughter]
When I hear your music, I know it’s coming from a Black space. You know what I’m saying?
I mean that’s definitely within my intent, you know what I mean? There’s always the old conversation, of just like, “yo, what actually is Black art?” And the first thing that makes it actually Black art is the intention like this will be centered around blackness. You know what I mean? I am making Black art first and foremost. When I came to that realization about myself as an artist, and I began to work, but now I’m starting to see people attracted to that actual intention and saying so, and seeing themselves and feeling themselves in the music, and I love it.
Yeah, man. As you’re thinking about your journey as a hip-hop artist, as a hip-hop fan and artist... Do you have a vision for what your journey will continue to be like? Is hip-hop your main focus? Or are there other things that you want to kind of explore as a creative, as a writer?
I’m being open to it all, really. I mean, I make rap music. When people ask what I do, like that’s what I do. And through this door of rap music, I’ve been able to make music with really dope jazz musicians. Just playing and getting a chance to record with Shabaka Hutchings you know what I mean?
Yeah. I read that you’re kind of serving as an A&R for certain songs by getting all these people together to work on the new album.
Well, it actually kind of started through woods. I’m not sure how he and Shabaka connected, but then when we were out west, we were doing a festival, I think in Portland or somewhere, maybe Seattle. And I saw Shabaka the night before he was playing with his band, so the next day we had a show and Shabaka showed up with the whole band.
Wow.
And he said, “Yo, we love what y’all do. That’s why we came here from another city.” And it’s just like, oh, shit, for real? So from that moment, the communication was wide open and we would just send him out here anytime he’d be in New York City like, yo, what’s good? Let’s come to the studio one day. And it actually happened. And that day we had some other musicians in there, it was all kind of planned, but it’s centered around Shabaka’s schedule and yeah, Woods wasn’t there that day for the session, but I was there and we laid it all... Everyone, we all laid it down. But yeah, so through this window of rap, this presented so many sorts of other opportunities musically. I do look forward to other sorts of opportunities to use this gift. woods has been blessed, he has a children’s book out.
Wait, what?
Yeah. “A is for Anarchist,” it’s a children’s book. Myra Musgrove did the crazy, strange, beautiful illustrations. That’s the children’s book. I believe he’s working on something else as well. But yeah, the opportunities are there for me as well.
Anyway, I really just see you guys as curators, you know what I’m saying? Curators of ideas, imagery and perspectives.
Indeed. Thank you for even saying so. I feel that about ourselves. I feel there’s been a lack, or maybe not a lack, it’s always there, it’s always been there. Folks are doing amazing work out here, but also maybe not getting the spotlight that it deserves.
I wish y’all nothing but the best, man and whatever y’all do for real, for real, I’m there to support.
Thank you for the shout out. And also, Umber has the first Armand Hammer printed matter, if I’m not mistaken, you highlighting our lyrics. That was actually the first, that was a big deal and a beautiful magazine as well.
Oh, man, thanks man. Appreciate it, man. Man, I had no idea.
[laughter]
Absolutely. That was our first time in print, for sure.
Wow, man, word up. Seeing you guys perform I started thinking about all the rap duos that I really admire and for whatever reason, Das EFX came up for me... I don’t know why, but the way that y’all performed together, the way y’all kind of bounce off each other. I see the love and the bigging up each other when a line is said, “oh, yeah, you got that off right there, player.” I just saw it in y’all performance, but something... felt like I was watching Das EFX.
Das EFX was ill. They changed the game. No one was rapping like them before and then everyone was rapping like them after.
Yes, yes. So there’s a way where you guys embody that, but just in a different style of rap.
Fire.
Yeah, man.
Thank you.
billy woods
Dude, this is such a pleasure and an honor man. To start off, and I don’t know if you knew this, but you guys are definitely one of my top 50 emcees of all time.
billy woods: Awe man, thank you.
What was your earliest hip-hop memory?
You know, it’s interesting because I guess for me it depends how you define that. I distinctly remembered the song “I Got the Power” by a group called Snap.
Yes, yes. [laughter]
Ok, that’s in 1990. So really a foundational memory for me is going back and forth between the states, Zimbabwe and Jamaica; watching the film Do The Right Thing and ultimately seeing the Fight the Power video.
My mom’s Jamaican, came to New York for college, met my Zimbabwean dad in grad school. They married in Brooklyn, but I was born in DC. When the Ian Smith Rhodesia regime fell, Dad returned to Zimbabwe and my mom’s like, “I’m not going there.” and she waited two and a half years. We moved to Zimbabwe in ’81. As a kid, we visited the States every Christmas—first Jamaica, then NYC, where most of Mom’s sisters lived (she has eight).”
Wow.
Eight sisters and a lot of them had come to the States, not all of them, but a lot of them. She was the first one to come, and a lot of others had followed behind her. She sponsored them. And so my childhood was always coming to New York City at Christmas, which was big to me, it was all about seeing snow and eating pizza
Yeah. [laughter]
Going to Jamaica was the same thing, transformative experience, a stark departure from the familiar. Zimbabwe, with its landlocked expanse and arid grasslands, contrasted sharply with the local paradise of Jamaica where my family resided in the mountains.
So when we arrived in New York during the ’80s, we stayed with relatives in Jamaica, Queens. Their home embodied a fusion of the b-boy aesthetic and Caribbean influences, evident with matching set jackets adorned with names and I remembered seeing these huge boombox radios. The basement featured graffiti-covered walls and an unfinished building, serving as a place where they threw parties playing mostly Jamaican music. Reflecting on those times, it becomes apparent that the environment was the essence of hip-hop—gold chains, jackets, quadruple-deck boomboxes—yet the impact on me then went unnoticed. During our stay in Washington DC, as my mother searched for a new home in the ’80s, we resided with family friends who rented, on VHS, the seminal Spike Lee film, “Do the Right Thing.”
[laughter]
This was an important moment in my life in multiple ways, even the whole time I was growing up in Zimbabwe, I really thought of myself as an American. That's where I was born. I didn't realize it yet, but that movie was significant for me because not only did it provide a sort of “catching me up to speed” on contemporary Black American life—though I was well-versed in American history and racial politics through my readings and discussions within my family—it also offered a visceral, on-the-ground perspective that I hadn't experienced before. I knew about the Panthers and the Civil Rights movement. And my mom was still here while that was happening. And I knew about their history and I knew about it. I’d started reading James Baldwin and things like that, but at the end of that movie I saw the video for Public Enemy’s Fight the Power.
And I was like, oh man. This was huge, especially for me growing up in a very political environment, I’m also on the cusp of becoming a teenager.
From listening to your music and now hearing your story, I can see the influences in your background growing up between Zimbabwe, Jamaica, New York and DC. How much of those experiences influence the way you write now?... Do you still draw from that experience or now are you kind of like in this other sort of space when you write?
Not only that, Black Entertainment Television (BET) was huge for me back then. They didn’t have a lot of programming but there was Rap City, also mind you, I’m a latchkey kid.
Yep, same here.
My dad is not around, my mom’s working and my sister had gone off to boarding school before we came back here. So I’m on my own after school. When I get home, Rap City comes on at like 2:00 in the afternoon something basically where I would get home from school and it was four hours long. And then when Rap City was ending Yo! MTV Raps would come on. Those two shows in particular was really my source of rap influences. Yo! MTV Raps was shorter so the selection of videos were sparse, but on Rap City, you would see any and everything; from Tupac, Disposable Heroes Against Hiphoprisy to The Coup.
So it was, wow, that’s right.
When was the first time you actually decided to rap?
Okay. So I go back to New York for college after high school. And in college I met my homegirl Brooke. And she and I got really close and I decided to just stay in New York City that summer. And so I’m staying with her between Brooklyn and Harlem. She just was the type of person who was a part of so many scenes and whether it was artistic or political. And this is still true for her. She’s currently a professor who now lives in Cali, but she was just in New York for that Palestinian rally and got arrested.
So Brooke introduced me to Vordul Mega of Cannibal Ox. And at the time he was probably 16 and I was maybe 19.
Oh wow.
Such an incredibly talented person. And to him, those people were the first people I met that were just rapping. So Vast Aire wasn’t involved yet, or I didn’t know him at that point. He was in New York. And I met some other people that were involved in The Atoms Family collective because Brooke knew them. And then over the years, just being around Vordul, he was just the type of person who was always like, “yo, just spit your part.” And then of course, meeting people and seeing people do it and being in New York was just a different vibe.
I don’t know if it was a conscious decision, but I remember I know when I wrote my first verse for myself. And then after that, once I was doing it, I was just into it, and I’ve been writing my whole life. That’s the other thing. I’ve always been a writer.
Like prose?
Prose, poems, anything. My mom was always super encouraging of that. And I think like any child or most children anyway, you do things and you get a positive response from adults, your family or teachers or whatever. And I love to read, I love books. So my mother is a professor and my father had a couple degrees and the house was just full of books. It was always like, if you were reading a book, you could be left alone. The one thing that my mom was not a stickler about. You could read a book at the table if you wanted. If the family tension was high, you could just bring your book to the table and focus on it.
[laughter]
I was always on that. I always liked to write. And so this was just extending myself into that area, which I hadn’t done before. But once I started to do it, I was like, “oh, I really like this". This is just a different way of writing poetry, really.
Okay. Alright.
Once I switched schools to Howard University in DC, I really started writing more. I also, funnily enough got put on and found out about Company Flow (El-P, Bigg Jus and Mr. Len). You would think I’d find out about them in New York.
Ooh.
So I brought their Funcrusher Plus album on CD. Man, a lot of us were geeking out over it. I told a story before of how I gave that record to Ta-Nehisi Coates. He was definitely a hip-hop head, going to his house I would tons of CDs. I was like, '“yo, let me put you onto this.” He was like, “man, them brothers are spitting, but I can't with those beats, man.”
Wow. [laughter]
After graduating from college in New York, I decided to stick around, but not before a brief stint back home in DC. I had a chance to come to the Bay Area actually, my friend Alex Richter, who’s now a photographer, lived there at the time working at the record store Rasputin, but I decided to stay in NYC.
When I returned, I crashed at the place of a guy I knew, a roommate of my man Bond I had initially teamed up with for music and writing. This other guy, Bond, was always borrowing his friend’s ASR-10, and he turned out to be a beat-making wizard. I bounced around for a bit, traveled to Amsterdam, and eventually landed back in New York, crashing at Bond’s spot as I got settled.
As I started finding my groove, 9/11 hit in August 2001 while I was on the couch in their Greenpoint apartment, with a clear view from the roof. Even after getting my own place, I kept going back to Bond’s, where we’d work on tracks, recording them on a tape deck. It was a daily grind—lots of writing, lots of rapping. Originally, I had this grand plan for a joint album with Vordul Mega and Thrill Gates, but life threw curveballs, and Vordul had to step back.
So, I ended up releasing what was technically my first solo album, even though Vordul and Gates were involved initially. I took charge of the mixing and mastering, recording in a studio in Yonkers, crashing there overnight. Towards the end, it became a solo project, with Bond on beats and another guy, John Woods, contributing a few. John, with his studio know-how, helped me navigate the intricacies of mixing and mastering, things I was clueless about. I pressed the CDs, crafted the covers at Kinko’s, and that’s how my debut album came to be.
Kinko’s was the spot man, I actually worked there in 3 different cities, Atlanta, Chicago and Philly. [laughter]
So when you were releasing back then, your solo stuff, was it on the Backwoodz at that point or did the name Backwoodz come sort of afterwards?
No, it was then. The Backwoodz label started with my first solo record, Camouflage. I’d had that idea before, but my initial thought was, “Oh, I’m gonna do this pop up on Vordul’s record, make this big splash, and then people would check for me...'“ And it didn’t work that way, but I still stuck by the idea that I had for the label.
How did working with Elucid come about?
Me and this cat, Uncommon Nasa, who had his own record label, used to collaborate on this, for a lack of a better word, festival at the time. It was really a one-day show. With lots of artists, we tried to get at least one person from out of town. And we’d do it every year in December. It was his idea. Uncommon Nasa, AKA Paul Loverro. Great dude. He had previously been a mix engineer at Def Jux, and then he just went out on his own.
Oh, I think I heard his name before. Yeah.
Yeah, yeah, yeah. And so producer, rapper, good guy. One year he was like, “Oh, I got this cat, Elucid, who’s gonna be the headliner". And I was like, “Oh, I don’t know him,” but sure. Whatever you wanna do.
When I first saw Elucid perform and then I was just like, “Oh, this shit is really dope.” And I went up to him after the show and it’s interesting because this was a point... Actually, there came a point in working with groups where I just felt a little bit burned by some of those collaborative projects, and not calling anyone out. Just things didn’t go right. Sometimes other people’s level of commitment was different than mine, or the way they wanted to proceed was different than what I had expected. And so it could be a little bit difficult. Hold on one second.
The label was in crisis, and I was working on what might’ve been my last solo record and I thought I’m not gonna get involved with another group but meeting Elucid and hearing him I was like, “This guy is really good. Okay, let’s at least do a feature together.” And he agreed to do the feature I was like, “Damn. This guy, he’s incredible.” He killed it, out-rapped me, and I was like, “Let’s do another one.” That feature gave my album a moment, not a huge one, but enough to pull us back from the edge.
Feeling like this could work, I asked him if he wanted to do a record together. I even had a name in mind for the project, and he said yes to both. It was a good sign because, in the past, I’d worked with people who were hesitant about embracing each other’s ideas. But from the get-go, there was none of that. We were both open to whatever, whether it was his idea or mine. If it’s good, let’s roll with it. No ego. And that’s how it all began.
How do you balance being a record label owner and an artist? Is there a lot of overlap in what you do as an artist and then as running Backwoodz?
No, they require different things. But how I looked at it is... Man, I always had a day job. And I was doing this shit. So once the label got bigger, I just treated that like part of my day job.
One of the hardest lines in your most recent album. Where you were like, “I’m walking across the street holding my child’s little hands…”
Oh. I said, “I write when my baby’s asleep. I sit in the room in the dark. I listen to him breathe. I walk ’em to school, then the park. Hold they little hands when we cross the street. I think about my brothers that’s long gone and this was all they ever dreamed.”
Dude, listen, that was the hardest bar... That was the hardest bar on one of the hardest beats on that album. And I was telling this to Elucid too, is that when you guys write, I see what you’re writing. I literally saw the scene. I realized that there’s a lot of conversations in your music around relationships and family.
I think all of those things are true. And sometimes it’s funny because on the ‘Terror Management’ album, when I was writing ‘Hiding Places,’ I had the idea for the album. And then certain aspects of the album came true.
[chuckle]
And certain things where you’re like, “Damn, I wrote that shit.” During writing that album it was the toughest year of my adult life, bar none. And I didn’t know that lots of those things were gonna happen when I went into writing it. And so many themes became part of the album. Although that album, I started off thinking, would have a lot to do about childhood. Then I ended up having a child. And it was still about both of those things. And made other layers that were in it. So I usually have ideas and themes that present themselves or come to me as I’m working, but there’s also the fact that sometimes life is happening. So life works its way into work, which is important to me. I feel like it’s not like I’m never gonna be stuck on some material that isn’t relevant to me at that moment in my life, because I can write a rhyme about anything.
Yeah, man.
And then there’s something like the ‘Aethiops’ album where it was, of course, my personal life and other things wrapped in that. But that was definitely one where I came with more of trying to say, “Hey, I have this thesis, something that I might write an essay or academic work about instead I’m gonna make a piece of art about it. And hopefully, it’ll be dope and interesting and multifaceted.”
So, yeah, so the last thing I’ll ask probably is around working on ‘We Buy Diabetic Test Strips.’ For one, it’s an amazing album.
Thank you.
What was your process in making this particular album? Did you and Elucid have a vision of what you wanted to write or talk about?
I think that there was a lot more discussion about how it would sound and who we were gonna bring onboard with this record, and it was about, “Okay, what’s the theme?” And as we worked, those things started to reveal themselves. So I felt like it was more concentration on, “How is this gonna sound? Who are we gonna bring on board? And we were also both coming from different places. I had my own things I wanted to try and do lyrically and conceptually coming off of working on several solo albums in row.
I feel like with your music, there is a film quality to it, or... I don’t know. I think it would work well as a soundtrack...
That means a lot to me. I think that my roots, artistic roots a lot, are built around the idea of the narrative. And so that’s something that comes natural to me and that is important to me. And I want things, both on a small level and on a macro level to build, to grow and to come around to something. I’m not really into the idea of just making... Sometimes that’s cool, but if we’re just doing... If we’re doing an album, to me, it needs to cohere into something. Not just be my favorite songs and then I just put them there. Even if that was how I made it, then I would make it my job to find a way to make them cohere. Maybe I need to make a couple of other songs that tie everything together, whatever the case may be. So, yeah. I think that that’s a really important part of what we do. And I’m glad you said that ’cause I really hope that that element is there in every record. From...
I just love albums. I’ve read a... I can’t do singles. For me to be a fan of someone’s music, I have to listen to your whole album. Singles are cool for a playlist.
That’s fine. But I gotta hear some narrative... To your point, give me story arcs. You know what I’m saying?
Build a world and let me see what we’re doing here. It could be a small world. Maybe a whole lot doesn’t even happen. But I will still respond to that 100% of the time.
It’s been an absolute pleasure, dude. Hearing your passion, hearing your perspective, it definitely... Hearing you talk, hearing both of you guys talk, it’s almost like hearing the framework of your album. The framing of how these songs come together and hearing you speak around your journey, your life, your personal life.
Thank you, man. Very good questions. Really appreciate you. Love to sit down and have a drink or smoke a smoke next time we’re in the same city.
Bet, for sure let’s do it!
To learn more about Armand Hammer and Backwoodz Studioz visit: Backwoodz Studioz and their Bandcamp page.
Follow them on IG too, @armandhammernyc