Bas’ 2014 debut project ‘Last Winter’ turns 10 this year, and yet, a decade into the game, he is more full of spirit than ever before.
One of Dreamville’s founding voices, Bas is regarded as rap’s silent killer. Though his handful of collaborations with J. Cole have landed him on many radars, it’s his follow-through that keeps him cemented in the rankings. A compelling storyteller equipped with wit, perspective, and versatility, every single one of his projects, features, and verses on ‘Revenge of the Dreamers’ projects have left an obliterating imprint.
There was a notable pause in between his last two full-body releases, one that left many fans awaiting a sign of life. ‘We Only Talk About Real Shit When We’re Fucked Up’ is informed by all of the self-investment that went into his time off, the conversations had not only introspectively, but within intimate community. Going through a global pandemic invited the world to explore uncharted crevices within, and for Bas, there was a lot of relief in not needing to produce, but desperately needing to listen. From the whispers of his own soul to the cries of an aching world, he heard, he wrote, and he’s finally ready to share.
‘We Only Talk About Real Shit When We’re Fucked Up’ is a journey through deliberate truth. Vulnerable and sobering, Bas doesn’t stray from confronting the themes of war and self-destruction while maintaining the pulse of raw hip-hop. The project also breathes notes of afrobeat, an ode to Bas’ unfaltering commitment to international collaboration.
He offers this project gleaming with pride, knowing a piece of his soul resides within the threads of every bar. The success is not in the numerical reception, but in the purging of the soul, though he’s of course gotten both. We got a chance to sit down with the artist and explore deeper parts of his psyche and just how ‘We Only Talk About Real Shit When We’re Fucked Up’ came to light.
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CLASH: As someone who has been enamoured by your work since ‘Last Winter’, you’ve proven to only get better project by project, though I think that’s a testament to you taking your time. Moving slowly elicits a lot of bravery in an industry so consuming and fast-paced. Did you have to overcome a lot of pushback for that?
Bas: There are internal struggles all artists deal with, wondering how patient your fan base is going to be and how much they’ll support you before they forget about you. That’s every artist’s worst nightmare. But covid gave a lot of people time to recalibrate and it helped me tremendously to find the things I wanted to speak about.
A lot of the messaging on this album was born out of the stillness that was COVID. To be frank, this is the first time in my career that I was completely at ease and anxiety-free about a release, due to how I felt about the music and how much it meant to me. I felt good about the execution of what I was trying to say, I felt good about the sonic landscape. I was proud and secure in that so it took all those other thoughts away. I already got the gratification from making the album. I’m thrilled by the response, but internally, I was already there.
You’ve once shared “There’s no metric for purpose,” and it’s evident that the music isn’t coming from a chase for success; you had something to say and you’re saying it. With a project speaking to such significant themes, what’s been your own personal journey with vulnerability?
It started with feeling complacent and lost. The world stopped spinning for two years and that gave me an opportunity to connect with my people on a much deeper level. To be with my family and sit around the house and have conversations that I was too busy the decade prior to have. It was incredible to delve deeper and talk about our insecurities and our stress, all the things that getting that time off brought up. Dealing with stagnancy as all our careers came to a halt, especially after living a lifestyle where we were traveling the world and receiving constant adoration and dopamine hits.
With all of that taken away, we were taken back. It’s like when I go home to Sudan and people are just sitting in the living room drinking tea with no television, it felt like that. My homies and I would just sit and have these talks, and all the ways we felt just came out. All the ways we felt less than what we are. There was therapy in that. When ‘We Only Talk About Real Shit When We’re Fucked Up’ came around, I was drawing from those conversations. Like “How can I make music as meaningful as all of these conversations have been?”
Now that we’re moving again, do you find yourself still making sure to have those conversations and conserve a sense of stillness?
I wish I could say yes, but I don’t think so. That’s a great point. Once the world opened back up, we went out with a vengeance, like we were making up for lost time. I was talking to the homies recently like, without the death and global pandemic, I wish we had a year off like that every decade to recalibrate. Run it back. See where we’re at and how we need to grow, spiritually, emotionally, or physically. Having the time off to really examine yourself and be aware of what’s lacking in your life. It’d be nice. A year every decade, no competing. Just elevating our own being. I haven’t been in that space, life just resumed.
What you’re saying on this project regarding mental health and racial inequality is so important, especially coming from you. Many can centralise on hard topics and come off preachy, but you don’t stray from the heart of hip-hop. I think it’s difficult to talk about real shit and maintain the musicality, can you speak to that?
For better or worse, I always struggled with trying to write from any perspective other than my own. Certain artists are amazing at that, like Nas wrote a whole song as a gun. Cole has always been amazing at that, too. Even Kendrick on ‘Sing About Me’. They can embody someone else, where I feel like all the stuff I do is very first person. I think that’s why people resonate, I’m just sharing my own introspective thoughts. I’m damn near trying to communicate an existential crisis.
I always figured that if I feel that way, someone else must have too. No emotion or thought is unique to me, it’s going to resonate with someone. I never want it to be perceived as if I’m preaching because it’s not like I have the answers or the solution. I can only tell you how and why I feel what I feel. I just want to draw wisdom from the lessons life is teaching me.
I feel like the relationship we have with music is seeded from what we heard from the back of our parent’s cars. What were you listening to growing up?
My eldest brother, DJ Moma, has always had a super vast collection of CDs and vinyls. I was like 15 years old carrying his vinyls to his gigs all around Brooklyn, Queens, and Manhattan. My fondest earliest memories are him coming to the house with a new CD and playing it for me in his room. It was everything from Jamiroquai and Daft Punk to Nas and Digital Underground, Pac and Big obviously. He had such an eclectic, international ear.
Growing up, we spent some time overseas and he was like 18 when we moved to New York, so he had a very Eurocentric ear, especially after we lived in France. He was the first to put me onto Afrobeat, and I really credit him with how he shaped me sonically. He actually produced two songs on the album, ‘Testify’ and ‘U-Turn’. All of my siblings played a similar role in me picking up on their favorites, I’m the youngest of five. My dad’s a jazz head but my parents played more traditional Sudanese music. The whole culture is dope because they’d just sit around and sing the songs without even playing the music.
That diversity has certainly bled into your work and I really resonate with your intentionality in integrating so many cultures through samples and collaborations. You’ve been around the world and are now getting to visit all the countries you’ve been inspired by musically, including Brazil. How was that?
I’m still dealing with post-Brazil depression, I’m not even going to lie. It was amazing. Better than I anticipated. We went with Everyday PPL, which is a vehicle so culturally intertwined so we got to meet some incredible DJs and dancers. People from the city that truly make up the cultural DNA.
But the trip also aligned with FKJ’s tour in Brazil so I got to pop out and perform ‘Risk’ with him, which opened me up to a whole other side of Brazilian people and culture. I’ve always been inspired by the musical history in Brazil, ‘Tribe’ and ‘Boca Raton’ are both Brazilian samples. They’ve always impacted my music, I had just never been.
We went to a Samba club and experienced those vibes, and that’s what my music is about. I also spent a lot of time in South Africa and worked with some incredible artists, Blxckie who is one of my favorite artists from out there. Sha Sha who is from Zimbabwe, AJ Tracy from London, Amaarae from Ghana, FKJ from France. These are all places I’ve been and laid down a network. Every feature and contribution was very organic.
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‘Passport Bros’ has a Spanish origin story as well, right?
Haha, yup. It was the Spring and Ari Lennox had a show in London that me, Cole, and Ib all went out to. Cole had his first drink back after years and we were drinking Clase Azul. He hadn’t been drinking since our Hennessy days, tequila is a little less sweet. After that, we went to Barcelona for T-Minus’ bachelor party and it was a Clase Azul bender.
After that, we went to Miami for the NBA finals and it was just crazy. It all aligned. Cole was back outside, living his best outside life, we welcomed him back into the streets with open arms. We wrote the song in Miami off the tail end of those three weeks being out traveling, the song just kind of naturally happened. We didn’t overthink it. The song encapsulated that Spring / Summer that we had.
Now that the project is out there, what are the emotions that you’re feeling? Is there mourning, a sense of relief?
Definitely excitement. I’m super excited to bring it to life and tour it, that’s the most gratifying aspect of it all. That’s when people spend their hard-earned money to give you a night of their lives and I don’t take that lightly. I want to hear people singing these words and go through these emotions together. It’s a relief that it’s out. I know we’re in this quick churn era but I really believe in the album cycle.
I think Tyler, the Creator said something recently that resonated with me about people putting their album out and not promoting it. We’re taking a different approach because I agree with him. I’m so proud of this body of work, I’m happy with the artistic statement I’ve made and I want to give it its due and get it out to as many people as I can, really grow my base.
Putting out an album so driven by purpose, I’m curious to know if how you define success has changed from the way you defined it ten years ago?
Absolutely. Ten years ago, I would have probably been much more obsessed with the metrics of it all. That’s just not where I’m at right now. The best part about it is hearing people’s feedback, hearing how certain songs resonate and getting those validating DMs. Those are the reasons why I made this album, those are the conversations that even inspired this album.
Success with this album means getting to a place where my fanbase and I can connect and have deeper conversations, where it’s not just my small and immediate circle of friends. There’s a lot of intention and messaging in this album and the way it’s being received right now makes me incredibly happy. When making it, I hoped people would get it, I hoped there was an appetite and landscape. I’m finding out that’s a resounding yes.
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‘We Only Talk About Real Shit When We’re Fucked Up’ is out now.
Words: Jazmin Kylene
