When I speak to Pusha-T the day before his new record’s release, the internet has not yet turned on him.
It’s early afternoon, I don’t have anywhere to be after this, and it seems neither does Pusha. We have, to borrow his favorite current tagline, the luxury of time. With it, we are able to have the kind of conversation you want to have with an artist of his caliber—one about process, meaning, history, introspection, legacy.
It’s a conversation Pusha is well-equipped to have. He has always been a thoughtful lyricist, and that deliberateness carries over into our talk; even though his phone is active with notifications, it’s never enough to take him out of his carefully considered answers. He’s calm, and looks it. The grey hairs surrounding his signature braids only add to his unbothered aura. Pusha’s a seasoned vet with little left to worry about in terms of accomplishments. He’s in no rush.
Daytona is only seven songs long and around 21 minutes, which seems to run counter to the eternal idea Pusha-T wants to sell us on. But it is an album a few years in the making. His last record, Darkest Before Dawn, was released in late 2015, and about a year later he was said to be done with his next, which was then going by the name King Push. But as the clock ticked, things shifted. “The name change best represented what I feel like my fans are getting,” he tells me. “The Daytona is my favorite watch and it’s luxurious and we had the time to curate this for you.”
Kanye West convinced Pusha that he could produce the entire thing himself. The pair went off to Utah, then Wyoming, where they tried to capture what Pusha describes as “that undeniable soulful chaotic energy.” They drew inspiration from the sounds and moods of their favorite records, with Pusha name-checking Raekwon’s “Glaciers of Ice” and D’Angelo’s “Devil’s Pie.” It’s grimy, it’s old-school, it’s one producer plus one MC, it’s sparse, it’s soulful, it’s artistic drug rap. It’s everything you have come to expect from Pusha-T after more than two decades in the game. All in all, he thinks it stands as some his best work, alongside Clipse’s classic sophomore album, Hell Hath No Fury.
Today, we can talk about everything that went into this project, because today—or at least, while we’re speaking—there isn’t any controversy about his album cover, which was changed last-minute to a photo of Whitney Houston’s drug-littered bathroom, sparking outcry from fans who feel it is insulting to the memory of the legendary singer. Today, Drake has not yet released a diss track in response to Pusha’s, or the cheeky invoice for promotional services rendered.
This afternoon, it’s just about the music, thoughtfully prepared by a rapper who knows exactly what his fans want to hear. Perhaps the album cover conversation is the reason his phone is blowing up. It’s not something I know about yet, and not something Pusha opts to bring up on his own. It’s OK. We’ve got time.
1. “If You Know You Know”
Pusha-T: It’s me trying to galvanize my core. When I say, “This thing of ours, oh, this thing of ours/A fraternity of drug dealers ringing off/I just happen to be alumni,” I’m speaking to everybody who’s invested in street culture. Those who love luxury, high-taste-level drug raps. Those who are of that pedigree. I’m saying, “Man, listen, this is our club.”
I know what lane I’m in. I know what I’m good at. I know my skill set. I’m very comfortable in understanding that y’all want the street shit from me. Sometimes you’ll let me get out of my lane a little teeny bit, like step a foot out, but ultimately it’s about unorthodox beats, making you really feel some type of emotion, and layered lyricism.
Hell no. I’m cool on that.
I find other ways to do things like that. I was one of the first ones to even play in an EDM space; EDM artists like the frequency of my voice, and that turned into a whole other business for me. But everybody got they path—I’m into mob films and I don’t know if I want Scorsese to necessarily do many things outside of a mob vein. People are fans of what it is that I do. And knowing that they’re a fan of that, I can service that to the best of my ability. We make incredible music, and the more people that latch on to the train, you’re all welcome.
2. “The Games We Play”
Everybody has a problem with waiting—for anything. These phones have fucked that up. But where I am in my life, I’m not rushing for anything. It has to be right. I don’t have a big fan base. It’s small. It’s real niche. But they’re loud. They’re going to fight you down to the ground. And it’s got to be right for them. When you get the casual people involved in that, then they start to put a rush on it. They seem to lack the faith that I am coming. But I don’t put out bullshit no days. I’m not doing that. One of the last rap superheroes. Who else is chopping this shit up, barring this shit up for that particular set of people?
3. “Hard Piano”
Hell no. That’s not something that even really crossed my mind. I’m speaking of current events. You have to know what type of era that you’re dealing in. You’re dealing in the attention era. And when people chase that level of attention, they’ll take it from anywhere. With that being said, I look at that whole scene differently. I’m 41. I’m not really out here running around chasing these women. At the same time, it speaks to the predicaments that these guys get in. I don’t know how this shit has fully played out, but number one, they’re dead wrong, and number two, what is all of that energy even for? Come on, you’re a made man. You’re successful. You’re feeding your ego. I’m not that.
Man, listen. I’ve got a mom and a sister. I ain’t with none of that shit. You can’t even have that type of stigma on you where I’m from. You can’t have that. It’s like, “What did he do? To who? You didn’t do that to me or mine, but you did that to them over there? OK. Well look, let me show you how this works…” So with the #MeToo movement, I get it and I’m glad that it’s being spoken on, but there’s a nasty underworld of principled street shit that goes on where people deal in shit like that. It doesn’t just happen in jail, it happens outside too.
4. “Come Back Baby”
Yeah, man. I got the luxury of time, that’s my new show-off. These other guys are putting out albums back to back to back to back to back. They got to do that so they can go and post this and count money on the camera, they think it’s cool.
I don’t know, man. But the other day, 21 Savage said he won’t buy no more jewelry and shit, he was talking some real estate shit instead. I was like, “Yo, let me get my real estate game a little harder too, dude. That’s sort of lit.” It just comes with knowing what you’re up against.
I was speaking personally. I feel like a lot of people will look at Pusha-T the name, look at Pusha-T the artist, look at the music, the discography, and not understand that Pusha-T is also a brand that people accept on all levels. It’s like Pusha-T: coke rap, dope boy, dope dealer, but he owns 40 percent of the Arby’s commercial. People don’t know that. They’re like, “He wrote ‘I’m Lovin It’? The McDonald’s joint?” We’re talking Arby’s, McDonald’s, Adidas. We got Adidas selling bricks. We’re wrapping the bag. Everybody wants to be a part of the street culture in some way, shape, or form. These brands who have taken the risk know that there are artistic, articulate, and still edgy ways to move and maneuver and make it connect to a demographic that they wouldn’t ordinarily reach.
5. “Santeria”
I’m in a weird position in life. I’m from a very street background. I have friends, to this day, who are very street-oriented, entrenched fully. People I love to death, who love me dearly. Anything I ask them, they’ll do, vice versa. Also, I have a mild celebrity status, known in certain areas. And I’m very, very compassionate with knowing where I’m from, where I’m at, the people who are connected to me, where they’re from, where they’re at.
That being said, I had a road manager who had a young civilian mindset, who was church-going, and not in the mixes that I’m from or have known. He brought a level of spirituality to my circle. He was good natured and good spirited. He was murdered. Random. We were not on the road. He goes, takes a job, I believe with Nicki Minaj, doing roadie work. That in itself tells you the humbleness of that man. You run with me and you stay in the suite next to mine. But when we’re not going, you’ll go take the job that you don’t even do anymore. And you get murdered. To me, that was just not fair. I don’t think it’s right.
I don’t know how much more vulnerable it gets for me. I don’t know what else to touch on. Maybe I need some hardship. I spoke about my parents’ divorce before. I spoke about me and my brother’s artistic breakup. I tell you that my manager who started my career goes to jail. I’m sure that I could dive deeper into that emotional pool, but I feel like what made this song be what it was to me was the actual first bars of it: “Now that the tears dry and the pain takes over/Let’s talk this payola/You killed God’s baby and it wasn’t his will/And blood spilled/We can’t talk this over.” When I got those first two lines, I was like, “Oh shit. Song’s done. I can stop it right now.” That was the emotion I was feeling, and I want people to know that when they do shit like this, you never know who can take the puppet strings.
6. “What Would Meek Do?”
Hell yeah.
No, no, no, no, no. We spoke more about messaging and the insensitivity that goes along with the things that were being said and things he said. Even if you have a perspective on something, the messaging has to be so laser sharp, because when you deal in certain keywords, a lot of those words were associated with injustice and death. You can’t bring a Twitter attitude to a screen and have those keywords.
I haven’t. When I first got the beat and laid the verse down, I was like, “Yo, if Meek was out, he should be on this shit. It would be fire!” I don’t like asking people for features—I only ask if I believe the marriage is just perfect. If I ask you for a feature, I’m trying to make it worth my while, your while, everything. So I came up with the Meek line, but Meek was full-on in jail. Ye is like, “People be rhyming in jail and shit, how do they do that?” I was like, “Man, fuck that shit. I ain’t asking that man to do that. If I did, he’d get caught with a phone or some dumb shit. It’d be crazy.”
So we’re done with it, Ye puts a verse on it, and lo and behold, Meek comes home. And we have birthdays around the same time too. His birthday is seven days before mine, and his son’s birthday is on my birthday. So I hit him, “Yo, happy birthday.” We always do that. He had just got home, and I just didn’t feel comfortable. The song was already done. I was like, “I’m not fucking asking this man to go to no fucking studio for me. Just catch up how you gotta catch up.” Maybe a week or so later I see he was in the studio. You gotta let it pass.
7. “Infrared”
Yeah. For sure.
That’s the thing, I don’t even take it as personal as [André]. When I heard about [Drake’s ghostwriter], I was like, “OK, cool. But you don’t get to critique, criticize, or talk about authenticity.” If that’s his truth, I’m cool with that. This is the business of music, too. I’m with you. I’m not here to be the police for that at all. But then, on “Two Birds, One Stone,” he talked about my authenticity.
But I’m not going to get into a sparring match about who’s realer. I cannot do that with you. I don’t believe that that’s a conversation me and you should have after the curtain’s been yanked away. I don’t want to talk rap talk with you. I don’t want to talk the competitive art form. People have had so much to say, like, “Yo, why take so long to respond?” But I’m not taking long. I’m doing what I do. The fake cannot dictate the moves of the real. That’s not even a normal progression of life. That’s not how that works.
