Schoolboy Q waltzes through the entrance of the Marlton Hotel’s mini penthouse with energy opposite of his fans this NYC morning. The delivery date for his Interscope debut Oxymoron is less than two weeks away and rap heads, even those on the opposite coast of his native Los Angeles, are juiced with anticipation. Q isn’t juiced on anything. He soberly greets the awaiting collective of VIBE editors, video shooters, stylists and single groomer. He sports a fuchsia TDE hoodie beneath a grim three-quarter trench, black hat that appears Hasidic official and grips a Styrofoam Dunkin’ Donuts cup. He claims his management never informed him of the “need to change clothes.” He has no desire to wear the Italian dinner jackets that were pulled, and the groomer shouldn’t even think about getting near his Rasta-esque beard. Schoolboy doesn’t shave. Schoolboy also never takes his hat off. The room silently prays that his cup of Joe is black.
Then a blunt lights up and the rapper born Quincy Hanely follows. He doesn’t want the room to perceive him as difficult. His music may articulate an unbridled Crip who has more pills to sell and pop than fucks to give, but he’s quite clearheaded on the music and aesthetic he wants to put forth. He says he’ll shave one day. Just not for the release of Oxymoron. One listen to the South Central audio trip and you’ll realize, ignoring the album title’s support, Schoolboy’s not nearly as dumb as his drug choices. Like the best who ever recorded a full composition (labelmate Kendrick Lamar included), Q brings you inside of his world. The exceptional arrives when he places oxy frames on your eyes so you can experience his grey South Central story under the influence of insane highs and hues. Tenured professors like Pharrell and Raekwon and Alchemist and Kurupt enable Schoolboy’s miseducation in scholarly fashion. It’s why, despite Oxymoron leaking immediately after this shoot, its healthy presales have encouraged murmurs of the rookie’s first week possibly outperforming Rick Ross’s, whose sixth album drops the following Tuesday.
Before long, two buds of OG kush disappear and the coffee kicked in. The wisecracking father of daughter Joy has returned. He drops Pilgram jokes on his own hat. He’s even shooting in one of the suit jackets (love for the groomer remains at zero). He’s compliant and now ready for his interview. Over the next 30 minutes Schoolboy’s at his most focused––he’s concise when explaining why he’d rather have all the attention on his album than himself, brotherly while discussing Kendrick’s Grammy snub, and most vulnerable when addressing his alleged addiction to lean (cough syrup and soda on the rocks). Guess that Dunkin’ Donuts cup wasn’t filled with java after all. Yock!
Bonsu Thompson: The energy around Oxymoron feels strong and you’ve personally raved about it. Do you seriously feel like it could be one of those special albums?
Schoolboy Q: Yeah. It doesn’t sound like nothing [else]. I didn’t have a Top 40 record, none of my singles went gold or platinum, but yet if you look at my album it’s #1 in hip-hop right now and it hasn’t even dropped yet. That says a lot. My fans are there and the energy is good. Everything I do is for my fans. I ain’t shit without them.
BT: Did you go into the studio intending to make a certain statement with this album?
Q: Yeah. When I made this I [said] “I’ma fuck niggas up.” When I made this, I planned on not having one single on the album. Like, not one. I just wanted to put it out.
BT: Why are artists so anti single?
Q: I’m not anti single. I’m not one of them niggas that say “Aww record sales ain’t everything.” No. I wanna sell good. I would love a platinum record on radio and charts, but for this album I wanted to have it straight for my core fans, for people to know where I come from and who I am because I may not ever do this type of music sonically again.
BT: Over the last couple years you’ve developed a very carefree style of rhyming––you use your voice like instruments, often replacing words with noises. Seems like you mastered that on “Collard Greens.” What’s your writing process?
Q: I’m one dude that writes his adlibs. I don’t just go in there and say “Gimme a track.” I say what I’ma say here [then] I put effects on my voice. Why not? I wrote it. Why not show the talent? Why be scared? That’s why I hate certain fans who hate cause it’s not like raw hip-hop, like boom bap. Cause it’s not boom bap, or I stack the hook [means] it’s not hip hop? I can do more than just boom bap. Fuck that shit.
BT: I have to respect how you brand your rhymes. Like some sentences don’t even make sense off the first listen, but you can tell it’s by artistic design.
Q: I do say a lot of shit that people wouldn’t understand because it’s like insider talk. That’s how me and my homies talk. Like how we pronounce certain words; we would call a beat a “steat.” So I would put that type of shit in my music and people wouldn’t understand it but eventually if they stay down with me and they get to know me, they will understand everything. I remember listening to Sugar Free and Jay Z and I never really understood some of the stuff they used to say until years later. Then you hear it again like, Damn that’s crazy. I just got what he’s talking about.
Then a blunt lights up and the rapper born Quincy Hanely follows. He doesn’t want the room to perceive him as difficult. His music may articulate an unbridled Crip who has more pills to sell and pop than fucks to give, but he’s quite clearheaded on the music and aesthetic he wants to put forth. He says he’ll shave one day. Just not for the release of Oxymoron. One listen to the South Central audio trip and you’ll realize, ignoring the album title’s support, Schoolboy’s not nearly as dumb as his drug choices. Like the best who ever recorded a full composition (labelmate Kendrick Lamar included), Q brings you inside of his world. The exceptional arrives when he places oxy frames on your eyes so you can experience his grey South Central story under the influence of insane highs and hues. Tenured professors like Pharrell and Raekwon and Alchemist and Kurupt enable Schoolboy’s miseducation in scholarly fashion. It’s why, despite Oxymoron leaking immediately after this shoot, its healthy presales have encouraged murmurs of the rookie’s first week possibly outperforming Rick Ross’s, whose sixth album drops the following Tuesday.
Before long, two buds of OG kush disappear and the coffee kicked in. The wisecracking father of daughter Joy has returned. He drops Pilgram jokes on his own hat. He’s even shooting in one of the suit jackets (love for the groomer remains at zero). He’s compliant and now ready for his interview. Over the next 30 minutes Schoolboy’s at his most focused––he’s concise when explaining why he’d rather have all the attention on his album than himself, brotherly while discussing Kendrick’s Grammy snub, and most vulnerable when addressing his alleged addiction to lean (cough syrup and soda on the rocks). Guess that Dunkin’ Donuts cup wasn’t filled with java after all. Yock!
Bonsu Thompson: The energy around Oxymoron feels strong and you’ve personally raved about it. Do you seriously feel like it could be one of those special albums?
Schoolboy Q: Yeah. It doesn’t sound like nothing [else]. I didn’t have a Top 40 record, none of my singles went gold or platinum, but yet if you look at my album it’s #1 in hip-hop right now and it hasn’t even dropped yet. That says a lot. My fans are there and the energy is good. Everything I do is for my fans. I ain’t shit without them.
BT: Did you go into the studio intending to make a certain statement with this album?
Q: Yeah. When I made this I [said] “I’ma fuck niggas up.” When I made this, I planned on not having one single on the album. Like, not one. I just wanted to put it out.
BT: Why are artists so anti single?
Q: I’m not anti single. I’m not one of them niggas that say “Aww record sales ain’t everything.” No. I wanna sell good. I would love a platinum record on radio and charts, but for this album I wanted to have it straight for my core fans, for people to know where I come from and who I am because I may not ever do this type of music sonically again.
BT: Over the last couple years you’ve developed a very carefree style of rhyming––you use your voice like instruments, often replacing words with noises. Seems like you mastered that on “Collard Greens.” What’s your writing process?
Q: I’m one dude that writes his adlibs. I don’t just go in there and say “Gimme a track.” I say what I’ma say here [then] I put effects on my voice. Why not? I wrote it. Why not show the talent? Why be scared? That’s why I hate certain fans who hate cause it’s not like raw hip-hop, like boom bap. Cause it’s not boom bap, or I stack the hook [means] it’s not hip hop? I can do more than just boom bap. Fuck that shit.
BT: I have to respect how you brand your rhymes. Like some sentences don’t even make sense off the first listen, but you can tell it’s by artistic design.
Q: I do say a lot of shit that people wouldn’t understand because it’s like insider talk. That’s how me and my homies talk. Like how we pronounce certain words; we would call a beat a “steat.” So I would put that type of shit in my music and people wouldn’t understand it but eventually if they stay down with me and they get to know me, they will understand everything. I remember listening to Sugar Free and Jay Z and I never really understood some of the stuff they used to say until years later. Then you hear it again like, Damn that’s crazy. I just got what he’s talking about.
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