"I don't want a million fanatical boyband fans": Brownsville rapper Ka opens up about his devastating album The Night's Gambit.
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“Music is my outlet and my therapy,” says Ka. “I need it in order to kind of be sane. It helps me shake those dark images that I’m always seeing. And I think people can hear that. I ain’t just doing this to be doing it, I have to be doing it.”
After a stint in the moderately successful hip-hop group Natural Elements between 1993 and 1995, Ka more or less retreated from rap music until 2008, when by chance a friend passed his album
Ironworks to GZA. The Genius was so impressed that he invited him to guest on ‘Firehouse’, a song Ka all but stole.
Ironworks, which Ka released on his own label, didn’t make much of a splash, but the following album
Grief Pedigree was better in almost every way, sparking interest in this rapper long out of his thirties with the gravelly monotone, dark bars and knotty boom-bap beats. On his third album,
The Night’s Gambit, Ka sticks to that sample-heavy sound, even weaving chess imagery into the record’s narrative fabric. But a new attention to space ensures
The Night’s Gambit is both bleaker and more contemporary than just throwback hip-hop. Like
Gunplay and
Tree, Ka raps best when he’s at his most broken, and there’s enough harrowing, haunting material on
The Night’s Gambit to break anyone.
I knew there was no way Ka wouldn’t be genuine and interesting to talk to, but even so I was surprised by how candid and generous he was.
You grew up in Brownsville, Brooklyn. How would you describe it?
Where I’m from, Ocean Hill, Brownsville… you don’t really know it’s bad until you leave and go to other places. Growing up, home is home, your friends are your friends and you’re doing things like regular people, but once you start getting a little older and maybe you start seeing other places on TV or go to school outside of where you live, you start to see people who live a little differently. Soon you start realising that you’re living in an area that’s really impoverished, and that ain’t how living is supposed to be. So you start making moves on your own so you can go and get that.
I have a love-hate relationship with my blocks. It’s still the same in the Brownsville area now… Williamsburg is Williamsburg now. Brooklyn’s been gentrified, Fort Greene’s been gentrified, Bed-Stuy’s been gentrified but Brownsville is still Brownsville, East New York is still East New York, and there are forgotten areas in Brooklyn, like Bushwick still, where people still live hard. There are still kids that live as hard as I lived, as hard as my friends lived. That’s where I’m from and where my people are from. You know, we weren’t bad people, just hungry. Hunger’s going to get you up outta your house and go do something.
And is hip-hop now your way of making things good?
Now I know things I used to do as a kid weren’t right. I’m not trying to be important or anything, just talk about the block, and the people that aren’t with me and the people who are with me still. In some sense I’m being like a reporter, I’ve been so affected by what I saw that I just can’t help but talk about it. If I can bring a little light to the area then that’s my responsibility.
I’m not a rich man. If I was a rich man, I’d be building parks and libraries and centres all around the hood, because I didn’t have that. I played basketball with no nets. And I would have wanted someone who was from that neighbourhood getting rich to let ’em know we still over here, we still living hard. Just let them know about this area.
The hip-hop that I grew up and loved was impoverished music, by poor people for poor people. It was aspirational, like, “Eventually we gonna make it good,” but the hip-hop now that they’re playing on the radio is celebratory music – “We’re poppin’ bottles, we’ve got so much money that I’m wasting it. You poor and I’m rich.” That’s the hip-hop that’s playing on the radio now. There is a time to celebrate, but there’s a time for loss, too.
What other music did you love when you were growing up?
I wasn’t buying shyt ’cause I couldn’t afford shyt but the radio was better back then, and I grew up in the ’70s so disco was still around, and I listened to a lot of that. My pop was into jazz so I listened to a lot of that, and my mom was into R&B. In Brooklyn, we’ve got a heavy West Indian and roots culture so I listened to a lot of West Indian and Caribbean music. And when I first heard hip-hop, I was blown away, and it just took over everything.
Grief Pedigree and The Night’s Gambit are pretty far from the Natural Elements stuff but your sound is still pretty old school. Where do your samples come from; do you spend a lot of time digging?
It’s so time consuming. I listen to
so much music; I go to a record store and I’m there allday long and I’m listening to everything, every genre. You never know when you’re gonna find that right sound so you’ve got to listen to everything. That’s why it takes me so long to do an album, because it takes about a year to find the twelve quality enough samples to use. That’s a lot of work. For me, digging is like a music lesson. I wasn’t exposed to all the different kinds of music growing up, so this opens up whole new levels for me. I’m listening to kinds of music I wouldn’t normally listen to, like Turkish music, or this Russian album, or this South American or African album I would never have picked up. It was all hip-hop, R&B and reggae when I was growing up, and jazz. So now I’m listening to everything. It’s great.
What’s the last good record you got?
The last good one? You know what, I don’t like telling, I like to keep some of my digging a secret! Haha, pardon me, I can’t answer that, my bad.
What about current rappers, who are you feeling?
I’m no expert on who’s ill, but I listen to a lot of the young kids, like Chance the Rapper. I think if he carries on what he’s doing, he’s going to be a great talent. Roc Marciano is one of my closest friends, I think he’s one of the illest around right now. And I like this kid in Chicago, his name’s Tree. I feel like I’m doing a disservice to people by saying names because everybody should be celebrated. A lot of the people are not getting the shine they deserve.
I still listen to the older cats, the people I grew up listening to. They still doing it. Sometimes I want something different, sometimes I want something I’m familiar with, sometimes I want something more experimental, some new flavour. But when I’m doing records I shut everything down because I don’t want to be influenced.