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When Garbology was first announced, it occurred to me that Blockhead had never fully produced an LP for his longtime friend Aesop Rock. You would think two guys who have mastered their craft and first met ciphering in the hallways of a college dorm in the mid ’90s would at least have an ill-titled album under their belt by now in union, like AESOP BLOCK. But the prolific nature of being solo indie artists for 25 years makes you realize that most of the time, your homies are your homies. The homie will do you a favor – guest on your album, connect you with the plug, take you out to dinner when you come into town, recommend artists you might like and haven’t checked. The homie is not obligated to be your full-time collaborator on an album. Homies should not be obligations. Luckily for Aesop Rock and Blockhead, they have both grown into two of the most influential and longstanding creators in their fields and used the pandemic as a way to do homie shit (make songs together out of boredom) without any pretense of “making an album together to drop on Rhymesayers” (homies don’t sign contracts to hang out).
While Aesop has proudly become the reclusive man in the woods, Blockhead has stayed as visible and chatty as ever. We talked about when he realized Aesop could be knocking on the door of greatness, how he makes albums with billy woods in comparison to Aesop, and what it’s like to fully produce an album for your friend who is a great producer in his own right. – Zilla Rocca
I’m assuming everyone’s asked you, why did you and Aesop wait this long to do a full length? But more interesting is like, what does it feel like working on a full length with him versus in the past of, I’m assuming, like, from Float to now, just doing joints? And then maybe some make it, maybe some don’t. What was the difference between making joints and making an album?
Blockhead: I mean, the thing about this album is it didn’t really come together. It came together organically in the sense that like, I’d been sending in beats and he was like, ‘Yeah, I wrote to this,’ I was like, cool, and we didn’t know what we’re gonna do with it. And then it kept adding on and adding on. Eventually, there was like five or six songs and we’re like, what are we doing with these? He’s like, “I don’t know, just keep sending beats.”
By the time we have ten songs, he’s like, “Well, we should just finish it then?” I’m like, Yeah, let’s let’s do it. It was like we were both in quarantine just hanging out. I hadn’t sent him beats in 10 years, so I had a lot to send them. So I flooded him. So much so that like, he picked some at first and then would go back into them and listen and pick more. Eventually he kind of ran out of ones and I had to make a new beat. “More Cycles” might be the only really new beat.
What’s the oldest beat on the album?
Blockhead: They’d be like 2017 at the latest. I mean, the latest. I think “Flamingo Pink” was an old beat. And one of my favorite beats on the album “Jazz Hands” was not a new beat. “Flamingo Pink” was one that I was talking to Mach Hommy about getting on that. It just never worked out for whatever reason, right? And I was always like, Damn, that’s a perfect Mach Hommy beat. But then Aes picked it and that was totally ok!
As an Aesop Rock fanatic, there’s a certain thread of concepts and ideas that pop up on the last few albums since “Skelethon”. I was thinking about you — do you look at this album in a phase of your career? Or is it a one off thing for you?
Blockhead: They’re all kind of separate to me. This album was just one thing that, when we started making it, I was like, man, this is long overdue. It’s hard for me to step outside and view what I’m doing on this that I didn’t do on other albums and, or what’s different about this, because the reality of it is I make beats all the time. And I make a lot of different types of beats. So if this album sounds one way, it’s because he chose a certain type of beat, you know? And whereas, like, you know, billy woods will pick different types of beats while my solo albums will have different types of beats. So it’s just capturing a moment.
What do you when you work with billy woods, or when you work with Illogic or Aesop, like Marq Spekt? What’s the process like in terms of how much in person you’re dealing with people versus email, text and calling each other?
Blockhead: It’s almost all email, texting, calling. I’m fortunate to work with rappers who I don’t really need to give notes to.
I was wondering what the notes are like with Aesop or other rappers.
Blockhead: The notes usually come from me when it comes to sequencing. Aesop had certain preferences. Like, for instance, “Jazz Hands” having no drums was his idea. But I was like, “I kind of like the drums”. I was like, I think we should put drums in after you finish rapping, right? Because it’s kind of a funny concept. Also, it’s kind of like a winky kind of thing at the whole non-drum thing, right? But going back to my point, the rappers I work with, I got nothing to say to them.
As far as what they’re giving to me. You know? I mean with with woods, I’ve been studio and been like, “Yo, maybe deliver this chorus like this.” And that’s the closest I’ve ever gotten to fussing with someone’s art, you know? It’s never been super hands on for me as far as recording stuff.
Was that ever a big part of what you were doing early on?
Blockhead: At no point did I want to be in the mix of rappers. I don’t want to be in the mix of rappers. Even back in the day when we were doing shit off digital eight tracks, Aesop would give me the bar structure. I would sequence the song. I would give him a stereo track back and he would rap over that. And that’s how we record the song. It hasn’t changed, except now that the order is different.
I can kind of fashion the song after the lyrics have been given to me, which I like. You’ll notice on this album, there’s a lot of the ends of songs, I bring in different shit, you know, which is a common thing because it’s stuff that didn’t really work with him rapping over it. Because my beats, I’ll have a lot of elements, you know, and some stuff got left on the cutting room floor.
You haven’t sent Aesop beats in 10 years so do you feel competitive with him? Because he’s a great producer.
Blockhead: I don’t think like that at all. It’s not cuz he’s a dope producer. It’s funny because when we started, we made similar types of beats. There’s the differences between how he makes beats now and how I make beats now. They’re really not comparable anymore. There’s definitely beats he’s made, like, “damn, I wish I made that beat.” But for the most part, he just makes beats differently than I do.
He’s got a very specific sound. And I think I have a specific sound. So it’s not really competitive. It’s just different. Even when people listened to “Float”, people think I made the whole thing! But he made “Big Bang.” Everyone thinks I made “Battery” too but that was him.
I remember when I heard “Big Bang”, and he was doing like a double time flow. That was foreign to hear in 2000: a New York indie dude taking a stab at that style. So now, 20 years later, when I hear “Wolf Piss”, it’s a trap flow. How did you know he would like “Wolf Piss?’
Blockhead: I didn’t know what he was gonna do with it. I just knew that the vibe of it was really up his alley. Cuz I know he likes 808s. I know he likes those kinds of drum kits and I know he likes that kind of synth bass sound. It’s one of the beats that is something that rappers will like because it’s fun to rap over.
It’s funny you bring up the trap and Southern stuff – we were both listening to that shit back then. And it was very weird in the New York underground for anyone to fuck with that. If you listened to “Float” and to “Labor Days” there’s like Southern hi-hats all over that shit.
Yeah even the slower stuff like “Basic Cable”, that’s the slow flow.
Blockhead: There’s almost triplets on that.
Then you guys had “Forest Crunk” off the Daylight EP.
Blockhead: That was the era of crunk! It was my take on that. I thought that was dope. Like, I really liked that. Early Timbaland, he was fucking the dopest. I wanted that kind of bounce. It was also kind of, you know, stepping away from the norms of what the underground.
Yeah, like how many more fake DJ Premier beats did we need in 2000?
Blockhead: I was never gonna be that. Of course you know I love Premier, but I was never gonna be that guy. So I was like, yeah, let’s do this.
You said you got like five, six songs into Garbology. How was the pacing of it? Was it that type of thing where it came together fast? Or was it more spaced out?
Blockhead: You know, obviously, it takes him time to write shit, right? So like, he’s not a slow writer. The way he writes, he does write relatively fast. But he’s not going to do three joints in a week. Especially because he’s a perfectionist, so he’s not gonna really half-step on that shit.
How do you then stay interested in making all these fucking beats every day? Like, what makes you want to keep doing this shit? Because you’ve been doing it forever.
Blockhead: I don’t work every day, that’s for sure. I work in bursts and when I don’t feel inspired, I don’t work. And that helps but something like you know, like, the thing is, all I need is a little flame. And it will propel me. If woods hit me up tomorrow was like, “Yo, I want to make a new album”, it would make me be like oh shit, I’m gonna make a bunch of beats then even though I have a bunch of beats he hasn’t heard.
If you give me an assignment, I can knock that shit out in five hours. But you know what I mean? But the reality is like over the pandemic, I was bored as shit and then had nothing to do. I definitely spent a lot of time playing 2K but I also was very very prolific during that time. And even though I probably made like five beats in the last three months, but I made 30 in a month. If I wanted to make another instrumental album, which I do not want to do right now, I probably could. Probably yeah, but I don’t want it.