Sometimes people forget that L.A. and Southern California is a place with real people and a super deep and rich history of Black art.
Yeah, man, Henry Taylor stayed down the street. I used to see that nigga walking to the liquor store. Marvin Gaye used to have a house down the street. In the ’60s, my grandma came straight to Los Angeles from Mississippi with mad kids. So I’d hear the stories of the jazz scene, you know Billy Higgins, all the jazz and rap in Leimert Park [Project Blowed]. L.A. is a real melting pot and that’s what really moves the city.
That is for sure something you notice when you live in these big, ultra-rich cities; you have to make sure you know the difference between what’s real and what’s artificial.
Yeah, bro, it would be so easy to get sucked into the side of the city where everyone is a number and a statistic. I wish people paid attention more to what was really going on. I hate when people pull up to a city and pillage it. You missing things if all the place is to you is an opportunity to get money. I’m not into that; it creates a divide and leaves the places feeling used.
Do you feel that L.A. is used?
Bro, they’re out here snatching people off the streets. Treating real people like they’re disposable. I guess we’re in a time where everything is treated like that, from art to people. It’s gross.
It’s happening everywhere, but it’s not surprising that L.A. has become the visible example. There’s a deep history of the citizens getting abused by the police and corrupt government, but also of the people protesting against that. What’s it like for you there right now?
The air feels different. It should be no reason it’s a regular thing to see 10 police cars rolling by lined up. People getting chased out their jobs. People on edge.
You’ve released an album in the midst of all this. Is that an uncomfortable feeling?
I don’t know. Historically, music brought camaraderie or healing in a time that wasn’t supplying that. Sometimes releasing music can feel like a selfless act, but, in times like these, it could feel selfish. But I think what matters most is your intentions, especially in times where we have the least amount of control we’ve ever had given how powerful technology is right now.
I find your album deeply human. Do you think you’re in some way pushing back against the extremely technological and artificial present?
The intention was to draw from real life and put a little twist on it. Like, Mars is a character, kind of like a devil on my shoulder. So it’s like the album is me and a person in me that I have to try not to nourish. He’s the part of me that, like, Elon or whoever that isn’t looking out for the future and would sell everything.
By “sell everything,” do you mean the part of you that is like, Let’s get this money?
Yeah, the part of me that wants to take the easy way out. I want to be in this for the long run; that shit is not gonna be beneficial to anyone. It’s a side of myself that I’m tryna kill. I gotta challenge the norm in myself before I do anywhere else.
What would your 15-year-old self think of the album?
I think he would be proud. But maybe he would have to meet me in a certain place for it to make sense. I’d teach him, though. I think I’m the kind of Black man we don’t get to see too much on TV or whatever. I’m a real nigga out here being vulnerable.
What was the radio like in Southern California when you were growing up?
The music was all over the place, you know. Stuff from the South, like Mike Jones and the Ying Yang Twins. Also like the Westside Connection, Snoop, Quik. But what I remember most was Big Boy’s Neighborhood.
What about it?
He was just a different personality than you were used to hearing on the radio. This is terrible to say but especially when he was fat [Laughs.] Before school, me and my pops would go shoot hoops at the park across the street from the school and we’d always pull up listening to his prank calls. That would have us laughing hard as hell. He would do impersonations, turn it into a crazy skit. I also liked that it wasn’t visual. I like when some things you just have to listen to and create your own picture. That did a lot for my imagination, thinking of the dude on the other side of the phone. What does their house look like? Are they tripping out? What do they look like?
How hard was it for you to weave your sense of humor into your own music?
I’m so glad you asked this. It took me too long to incorporate humor into my shit, but anybody that knows me will tell you all I do is play around. But it took a lot of confidence. Like, the “Human ?” video with me hanging off the car is funny to us, and I wouldn’t have been able to do that three years ago. I was creating out of depression, and a lot of shit just didn’t feel funny.
You also mentioned being a hooper. Are there similarities between playing ball and making music?
For sure; it’s the flow. When you play basketball the right way, it’s like water, the ocean. It might seem chaotic, but, once you get in that flow, you create beauty in the chaos. It’s the only other thing I’ve ever been as passionate about as music. But that’s really art, bro. Mars Is Electric is an album full of chaos and beauty.
Who were your NBA player comps?
Mamba! Baron Davis. Paul Pierce. Monta Ellis. Jamaal Crawford. Josh Smith. Tim Duncan.
Tim Duncan? OK, now you’re just naming anyone.
[Laughs.] No, all them motherfuckers. Anyone who was authentic to their game even if they weren’t super athletes.
“Authentic” is the key word.
It’s so important, bro. It’s one of those things that separates people. These days, I’m just tryna care less but put my real self out there.
How hard is it to make music that isn’t disposable, right now?
I’m trying to figure that out as we speak. Things are at the most disposable they’ve ever been. Again, I think it’s being authentic. The question becomes, though, can you tell what’s authentic? But when something is really real, when something is authentic, you can’t dispose of it.
What I’m listening to:
