Eyedea & Abilities (2004)
This interview took place in early 2004 and was published in the May/June issue of that year; our 12th. As we remember Eyedea's life, we take a look back at our conversation with the talented young 22-year-old and his partner in crime, Abilities.
» We take a look back at our 2004 conversation with the talented young 22-year-old.
Eyedea & Abilities walking into Irving Plaza in 2004.
At last year’s Prince Paul show at SOB’s in New York City, the opening act was an MC with considerable talent and stage presence, who, after his set, walked through the crowd, seeming to be genuinely interested in getting to know his fan base. His set impressed me so much that the next day I bought his albums. Eyedea & Abilities’ First Born (Rhymesayers, 2001) and the Eyedea-produced The Many Faces of Oliver Hart or How Eye One the Write Too Think (Rhymesayers, 2002), quickly made it into my heavy rotation. Although the two albums’ mix of philosophical musings, youthful exuberance and braggadocio is not an original notion in underground hip-hop, rarely is it done so well.
Like most who know of him, I first heard of Eyedea from the 2000 Blaze Battle on HBO. I subsequently forgot about him. And while First Born was well-produced, DJ Abilities did little to leave a lasting impression on me as well. Then one day I took notice of his and Abilities' name credited on El-P’s Fantastic Damage (Definitive Jux, 2002). The pairs’ new album, E & A, out this spring on Rhymesayers, is sure to be appreciated by anyone who digs thought-provoking hip-hop with skill. Quite simply, this is DJ’ing and MC’ing at their best.
The editor and I were lucky enough to hang out with Eyedea and Abilities and see their opening performance for label-mate Atmosphere in February. After hearing their new album and meeting with the two of them over dinner, I gained the impression that these are not just a couple of hip-hoppers, but artists earnestly trying to elevate their art form. For this I thank them.
Alex Rosado: Tell me how you guys hooked up together.
E: You’ve got to tell this one. I told it before.
A: [Laughs] Basically, we were really young, he was 13, I was 15. We was going to house parties, getting drunk, hanging out and shit. He rapped, and I wanted to be a DJ. Long story short, I didn’t have any place to stay, so I went and stayed with him. We were already friends, so from then we developed a very brother-like relationship. We naturally became a group because he rhymes and I DJ, but we never were like, ‘let’s be a group.’ This is it, Eyedea & Abilities right here. It’s really based on this friendship, and I think through being friends at such a young age we kind of nourished each other’s personalities.
AR: Eyedea, you’re 22 and Abilities, you’re 24. How long have you guys been touring?
A: Since I was 17. I started with Slug, we did the first shit, from the first month I was with Rhymesayers I was on tour.
E: Shortly after that, we were Atmosphere’s back-up band for a long time. We’d open up the set, do a couple of our songs, freestyle together; he’d [Abilities] do a DJ set. We were just kind of this traveling fucking freak show of all this new, interesting, different shit. It helped Atmosphere out, and it helped us hone our live shit.
AR: It seems the topics that you touch on most are metaphysical, existential, ontological or braggadocio. Do you think that boasting is an indispensable part of hip-hop?
E: [Laughs] I feel that it’s a part of hip-hop, man. It’s in the roots and it’s just there. Not to say that you always have to have a battle song. I’d like to be able to be poetic, and braggadocio at the same time, make songs that are not completely like, ‘yeah, I’ll kick your ass in a battle,’ but can bring it all together and be more emotionally relevant on different levels at the same time. There definitely was a point, especially First Born, where it was extreme. I’m an extreme person. If I’m happy, which I am now, I’m really happy [Eyedea smiles]; when I’m pissed off, I’m like punching holes in shit. When I’m sad, [he traces a tear down his cheek], a little bit of tear.
A: Get a little misty-eyed.
AR: I don’t want to stick on the whole boasting thing, but you guys have a lot of titles to your credit. DJ titles and battle competitions. Do you think you have earned the right to cut people down?
E: Yeah, yeah I do.
A: It’s like this: There are so many battle rappers out there, and they battle all this shit. They can’t serve nobody! They get on stage and start shaking like a fucking vacuum cleaner, it’s just like if you’re gonna talk about it, be about it, man.
E: On the Living Legends tour, I still got in battles! People would be talking shit and I’d be like, ‘aight, come on up and I’ll show you why you’re down there and I’m up here.’
A: He did that to like three random people just talking shit. It was fun.
E: It’s just fun for us. I still do a freestyle thing every Friday night at the record store we own in Minneapolis, called Fifth Element. It’s similar to open mic, only I get to pick who gets to rap so there’s no bullshit. A lot of people come and watch. It’s freestyle exercises where I just try and challenge myself and everyone else around me by playing these games that we invent every week.
AR: So what’s it like running the store?
A: Oh, we don’t do that.
E: We all worked in it in the beginning. I worked the least in it; I was still in high school.
A: It sucked; it taught me how to drink 40’s.
E: He used to drink 40’s and have them on the counter, day drunk as a motherfucker. By 4 p.m. in the afternoon he was already on a 40 or two, leave in the middle of the day and go to the liquor store a block away.
A: Yeah, that was pretty funny, man; I had some parents flipped out a little bit.
Derek Evers: So are you guys ‘emo’ rap?
E: I don’t know what that is.
AR: How do you feel about people sub-categorizing hip-hop?
E: You’ve got to understand, as a musician, it’s not our job to make the boundaries.
A: Yeah, it’s our job to get past that shit.
E: We make it, you name it, and I’m glad that it will never be different from that.
AR: Would you guys say that Minneapolis is doing a little bit of a takeover of independent hip-hop right now?
E: I wouldn’t say that. I’d say there’s a few key groups.
A: I’d say Rhymesayers is more than Minneapolis. You got Rhymesayers holding down the Midwest, you got Def Jux on the East, and Living Legends on the West.
AR: Was the hip-hop scene in Minneapolis/St. Paul ever as developed as it seems to be now?
E: It was a lot more close-knit, and in some way, a lot more meaningful.
A: It was. It was a little better in a way.
E: Now there’s a rap group playing every night. They all suck. There’s an open mic every night. One out of fifty people are good. Back then there was standards. You would get booed and get the shit kicked out of you if you were not good by the time you grabbed the mic or got on some turntables, and that’s so cool. I had to rap in my car, and in my closet, and in junior high hallways for years before I could grab an open mic. Because at the open mic I knew if I wasn’t nice…
A: You were done.
E: This dude [both of them laugh as Eyedea points at Abilities] started getting good like a year ago. I’ve been holding him down, if you know what I am saying. It was different for DJ’ing actually; as far as performance, it wasn’t available, there wasn’t a venue every night of the week. Now there is, and it’s because us and Rhymesayers kicked down so many doors. That’s a beautiful thing, but I just wish that there was a higher standard for the talent. The reason you kick down doors is so that younger people that are better than you can succeed, like you want to have a better life for your kids. But when everyone we kicked down the doors for sucks musically, it’s disturbing, you know?
DE: How’d you do that first song [on E&A] where your voice is cut up?
E: I can’t give you the secrets.
A: We’d have to kill you; I can’t give that secret away. I’ve had that idea for hella long; I’m surprised nobody has done it yet.
AR: What’s your secret guilty pleasure that you’ll listen to?
E: About a year ago, all I was listening to was pop, like Avril Lavigne and all that shit, ’cause the arrangements are so good. They’re just like, so in the pocket. I go through phases when I’m producing a record or when I’m trying to flip my head inside out, so I was doing the pop, a lot of that new rock shit, I don’t even know what the bands are called. Then, right before we went on the Legends tour, I got into the Beatles, who to me are like the God’s of pop music. They have the same approach to arrangements and the same kind of explosive, over-produced, multi-channeled rock production as today, but it’s actually good, so I just listen to that. He [Abilities] is a big Neptunes fan, is that a guilty pleasure? Who’s the best producer in hip-hop?
A: El-P in the underground and Timberland above ground, ’cause ultimately they take the most original approach, they have a voice. I tried to do that on our new record, but we’re still harnessing a production style. I don’t think I’m there like them dudes are. Them dudes are nasty. I like the White Stripes, but I don’t think that’s a guilty pleasure. [Derek winces.] I would like to work with Jack White, but I think he kind of hates on hip-hop. I want to get him open to it. I could do a guitar solo with him, like a guitar/synth-guitar solo.
E: You know what’s a guilty pleasure for me? One of my favorite musicians of all time, Beck, that’s a guilty pleasure.
A: I like a couple of Ashanti songs, that’s a guilty fucking pleasure for sure. What song was that that I liked?
E: I don’t know, I hate her.
A: It wouldn’t be one of the ones she did with Ja-Rule, I know that.
Eyedea and Abilities outside Irving Plaza
Eyedea & Abilities in 2004. Photos by Derek Evers.
Eyedea & Abilities in 2004.
Eyedea performing onstage at Irving Plaza
Eyedea performing in 2004.
Posted on October 20, 2010. More on: eyedea, eyedea abilities, rhymesayers
