Two decades after André 3000, as one half of the rap duo Outkast, won the Grammy Award for album of the year for “Speakerboxxx/The Love Below,” he is again nominated in that category on quite different terms. At the show in February, he’s up as a solo artist, for “New Blue Sun,” an album of improvised music on which he plays a variety of wind instruments and speaks no words. It’s a sonic pivot, but maybe not a philosophical one for a musician who has rewritten his creative approach several times over a 30-year career.
This week, he sat down with Popcast, the New York Times music podcast, for a wide-ranging interview about his journey from platinum-selling rapper and pop star to experimental flutist, discussing what it’s like to improvise after a career of writing down raps, the perks of naïveté and a tour-saving call from Prince.
Following his interview, André 3000 and the band behind “New Blue Sun” — featuring Surya Botofasina, Nate Mercereau, Carlos Niño and Deantoni Parks — performed an improvised piece in The Times’ newsroom.
The full interview and performance can be viewed here. Below are edited excerpts from the conversation.
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On pursuing genre omnivorousness:
I only started doing all types of music because the people I listened to, they kind of did all types of music, right? I felt like, well, I should try in that way. If, you know, Prince is doing a ballad and then he’s doing kind of like this rock, hillbilly, funkabilly song, and then this funk song — to me, it’s like, try everything. Why not? Sly [Stone] did the same thing, George [Clinton]. These are my heroes, you know?
Always in the back of my mind, even with Outkast, I was trying to figure out, “What’s a rap-punk-funk hybrid?” Throw everything you love into a pot and then see what it is. This exercise I would do is make fake hybrid groups: “What would Jimi Hendrix sound like if he was in a rap group?” Or: “What would Bad Brains sound like if they were a rap group?” And if you even get close to what you were trying to do, you’re onto something different.
On learning new instruments:
It’s always been exploration, trying to see what I can get out of the instruments. Almost like a cheap man’s version, because I never was a great student of any of them. I was interested in them and I would pick them up. When I first got a guitar, I was really into Wes Montgomery, so I just learned a few Wes Montgomery chords. And then I had to go on tour — I never kept up anything. So I would take bits and pieces of things and make it into something. So some chords from Wes Montgomery and the Beatles became “Hey Ya!” I was in Guitar Center and this kid comes up and he says, “Man, ‘Hey Ya!’ was the first song I ever learned — my first chords.” And I was like, “Me too.”
On why he prefers rap made by young people:
I never want to un-inspire anybody or have some negative kind of tinge, because we’re all out here trying stuff. At 49, sometimes, I still be rapping. I try it. I wouldn’t say it’s a young man’s sport, per se. But what I’m attracted to in hip-hop, what I’m attracted to in punk music, even rock ’n’ roll, is this kind of unabashed, “we’re stupid enough to try anything” energy. And I think it maybe started in the ’50s when kids first started making their own music. I think that’s a gift. No one else can reproduce that. And I think it has a window.
So what you’re hearing me say is that as a fan, I don’t sit around and listen to older rap music. I just don’t. Not that it’s not good, because rappers don’t get wack. But I’m looking for newness, freshness. I’m looking for, what does someone do different with it? Where did you take it? Because to me, it’s about progression.
Let’s be honest — aging is hilarious and cruel at the same time, and we’re all going through it, so let’s not act like we not. So everybody that’s dissing me, saying, “You’re just using ageism in rap” — all these people be cutting their hair off or dyeing their beards. You’re trying to be young!
But for me, I’m always just interested in the youth, man, when it comes to artwork. I’ll go to watch young people’s recitals at music schools, because I want to see what they’re doing. And it’s not that I’m uninterested in what an older person can do. It’s just that there’s a certain window of freshness that I’m trying to see. It’s always the youth that has the flashlights and the compasses of where it’s going to go. Always. I think it’s nature’s way of keeping things even.
On his famous speech at the 1995 Source Awards: “The South got something to say!”
When you’re in it, you’re in it and you’re not watching yourself in it. Now in hindsight, I can look back at it, and it’s become this thing that people reference a lot. But back then, it was just a response to what was happening at the time. Me and the whole crew were there and we knew how hard we worked. We felt slightly, not disrespected, but kind of unconsidered. We felt unconsidered, and that didn’t feel good to me. And that’s what came to mind, so I said it right then and there. I was very nervous. I’m not a outward speaker in that way. Big Boi is the more outgoing [one] — grew up in a big family, and I’m the only child. So if you watch early Outkast interviews, I hardly ever talked. So for me to even go on stage to say that, I was pretty, pretty upset.
On a call from Prince that saved Outkast’s 2014 reunion tour:
He was so integral in reminding me of myself. Just really a grown man conversation. We got on the phone — I’d never talked to him on the phone, and he reached out. And the first thing he said was, “You know what your problem is? You don’t understand how big you are.” And he started naming names of other artists — I didn’t know that he was even paying attention to music in that way anymore. But he was like, this artist and that artist, they wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for y’all. This is Prince saying this. He said, “You have to remind people who you are.” And I’m like, “I don’t really want to be doing these songs.” And he’s like, “Man, I’ve been there. I know exactly what you mean. I’ve been in that exact space not wanting to perform these songs.” And he said, “But you’re a grown man and you signed up for these shows. So you gotta give it to ’em. If you don’t want to do it, don’t do it. But don’t get up there and don’t do it.” That changed the course of the whole tour.
On improvising live shows:
It is the complete opposite of what I’ve done before, so there’s a freedom that I’m feeling. Instead of just improv, it’s more trusting the space, trusting my bandmates, trusting the room, trusting what I have to give on that day, and the reward for that trust is a lot greater sometimes than what you’ve constructed. It’s important for me to kind of see myself free, and I think that’s what a lot of people get out of what we doing when they come to the show. Some people cry, some people fall out, some people get up and dance. Some people get to fighting in the crowd. At Camp Flog Gnaw, they started a mosh pit. There’s something kidlike about what we’re doing that I think the youth responds to.
On the three Grammy nominations for “New Blue Sun”:
I try not to think about winning. I haven’t prepared a speech in any kind of way. But in this category and this time, I’m really happy that we’re nominated because just the nomination says a lot. I like to think of myself outside of the situation, like if I had nothing to do with “New Blue Sun,” and I’m a voter — I would totally vote for “New Blue Sun.” I ain’t even going to lie! I know a lot of these [nominated] people — these are very known pop stars and friends. But for “New Blue Sun” to be nominated: for what is, for what it stands for, for what it means, I would definitely vote for it. It’s the outsider pick.
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