Definitive Jux: An Interview With El-P

Definitive Jux: An Interview With El-P

By Erin Broadley
Aug 6, 2007

El-P is not a businessman by nature, but rather, by necessity. In a music industry smeared with artistic ultraviolence and held together by cobweb sutures, the Brooklyn, New York-based emcee decided to take matters into his own, deft hands and start an independent hip-hop label in 1999, calling it Definitive Jux Records. It wasn't long before the label became one of the most legit and dynamic sources for underground hip-hop in the country. "The greatest thing that can ever happen for an artist is to make money off what he does for a living," El-P says. "One of the worst things that can happen for an artist is to all of a sudden be this little guppy in a fish tank full of piranhas."

Rather than balk at the challenge of running his own business, El-P enlisted a slew of talent such as Cannibal Ox, Aesop Rock, Cage, and Rob Sonic, amongst others, and the players quickly became recognized as some of the most influential on the scene. One of the label's biggest releases in 2007 was El-P's own full-length "I'll Sleep When You're Dead," which saw El-P master the politics of provocation with his music and ease through dissections of the human condition with dexterity and total confidence. The album is a rhyme-sayer's reckoning, of sorts -- 13 tracks of post-millennial hip-hop for the gas mask generation.

Last May, Daniel Robert Epstein chatted with El-P about “I’ll Sleep When You’re Dead,” but SuicideGirls had a few more questions to ask so we caught up with the emcee and CEO (again) to talk business and pleasure -- or more specifically, what happens when your pleasure becomes your business.

Erin Broadley: You just got home from a long stint on the road. How are you recovering from the tour?
EL-P:
I’m good. It’s been about a month since I’ve been home so I’m finally acclimatizing myself to the boredom.
EB:
You just did a one-off, free show in New York, right?
EL-P:
At Urban Outfitters, yeah. It was really good, actually. I looked at it as a cool thing to do for fans. It was pretty fun. We try and do things like that every once in a while just because, you know, it’s kind of a bitch for people to have to pay to see you every time.
EB:
You started your own label, Definitive Jux, in 1999. What was missing for you as an artist that you felt the need to take matters into your own hands and start the label?
EL-P:
I just had my own perspective on the way I wanted to work in this industry and this business. How to be an artist and also be in control of what’s going on around you always seemed synonymous to me. I don’t think the artistic nature that I have really agreed with the structure of the business that I was involved in. I just wanted to create something that would allow me to do what I wanted to do, work with the people I wanted to work with and not have to deal with assholes on a daily basis. The greatest thing that can ever happen for an artist is to make money off of what he does for a living. One of the worst things that can happen for an artist is to all of a sudden be this little guppy in a fish tank full of piranhas.
EB:
[Laughs] Right, you stand no chance.
EL-P:
Yeah, and I had experience doing a bunch of different things in different scenarios, being on all different labels, putting my own records out. I just thought that -- even if it was ultimately to fail -- I wanted to attempt to create something that had a real soul behind it.
EB:
Something that really mattered.
EL-P:
It does matter. It’s hard and it’s rare and, really, what it all comes down to is, I don’t give a fuck about the business; I just give a fuck about the music. Creating something that was favorable to musicians -- a business structure that doesn’t just naturally rape you -- was almost a radical idea, you know. It basically unfolded out of me wanting to do music with people I like.
EB:
What are some of the challenges you face as an artist who started his own business and is now the head of a label, managing other artists? Has it been difficult to find a balance between art and commerce? Or has that come naturally for you?
EL-P:
It’s definitely not natural. It gets very difficult sometimes. I’m not a businessman by nature. I was a businessman by…
EB:
Necessity?
EL-P:
By necessity, yes -- to a degree. I mean, I chose it. I certainly could have dealt with other labels, but for me it’s one of the most satisfying things to be able to help people that I respect create careers for themselves and do what they love to do for a living. It’s also really hard because I put myself out there as being the representative for all of this so when inevitably there are bumps in the road, or when something doesn’t go according to plan, it’s very difficult. I’m more connected emotionally to the whole thing than most people who own record labels. That’s been the most difficult thing for me. How do you tell your friend that his record didn’t sell?
EB:
Right…
EL-P:
You know, I’ve spent a lot of time separating myself to a degree from a lot of the bullshit technical aspects of the label and just immersed myself in the vision aspect of it, the creation of the music and the sort of overall direction of the company. I’ve got good people around me who kind of insulate me at this point from all the random day-to-day bullshit because I’m an artist. I don’t want to deal with all the bullshit, I just kind of have to.
EB:
How hands-on are you involved with the artists on your label when it comes to making decisions about their records?
EL-P:
It depends on the artist. With some of them I’m incredibly hands-on. Like, I produced the whole Cannibal Ox record, did a lot of the production for the Mr. Lif albums, produced the majority and oversaw the Cage album. You know, I’ve had my hands in a lot of people’s records and then there are artists like Aesop Rock who works with other people like Blockhead really closely. Rob Sonic produces all his own stuff. So it really just depends. I’m basically just here for people. Different artists need different things. I like having artists in my camp who have very different crews of people that they work with. I’m not trying to do a record label that all sounds like, “Hey, it’s El-P again!”
EB:
Right, you don’t feel the need to have your hands up in everybody’s business all the time.
EL-P:
No, no, I don’t.
EB:
You’ve said that, with this label, trusting the artist is really important to you when it comes to people you work with. Would you agree that trust is a quality lacking in other kinds of musical endeavors these days?
EL-P:
It is. You have to strike a balance between trusting an artist and also having your own gut instinct and knowing when to suggest another idea. You know what I mean?
EB:
Sure.
EL-P:
It’s a tough thing and it can be sticky because, you know, you don’t necessarily want to put yourself in that situation. A lot of people don’t want to hear that type of thing. For the most part, the artists that I work with are really great and brilliant and have a lot of vision on their own. So if I can come in and help build it, that’s cool, but I certainly don’t feel the need to look over everyone’s shoulders.
EB:
Right, it’s like finding the balance between being hands on but not applying too much pressure and strangling the creative life out of them.
EL-P:
Exactly. That’s kind of what we’re going for. The only thing I can do is encourage someone to make the best record they can possibly make, to make the most passionate record, to make the most heartfelt record, to spend the most time and come up with the best music. The pop sensibility doesn’t at all play into any factor on our label. I could never tell them, “You need to make a radio song” because that doesn’t matter. Radio doesn’t play what we do. People look to us for that real heartfelt stuff -- the shit that can’t be provided by pop culture because pop culture demands that you polish things up and make it shiny and package it so that it can be sold to a variety of different people.
EB:
Yeah, pop spreads itself very thin because it tries to be all encompassing.
EL-P:
Exactly. You’re not necessarily going to throw an El-P record on when you’re in the mood to dance. You might want to breakdance or something but if you’re going out just to lose your mind and party, you’re probably not going to throw my record on. At least I’m not. It doesn’t mean I don’t like dancing it just means I’m not making that shit. There have to be records out there [that provide] some balance. That’s what we do. We are another aspect of it. Everyone is different in the approach but everyone on this label makes heartfelt shit. I think kids connect with it because people are actually saying something. Everybody loves big budget action flicks but every once in a while you want to go see a drama. Something a little less flashy. We’re offering something for those times and those moods when you don’t necessarily want music to be disposable or something that you put on in the background. We’ve got a stable of artists who are really serious about creating things and whether or not they’re serious in terms of the tone isn’t really what it’s about. We’re trying to provide a place where people can really sit and craft something that they think is beautiful and put it out to the public.
EB:
Sure, like a safe haven.
EL-P:
Yeah. When the head of the label is making the most fucked up music on the label, you know, I certainly couldn’t be like, “Hey Aesop, I think you really need to lighten up.” [Laughs] I couldn’t dare to say anything like that.
EB:
Right, it’d be like finding out your parents smoke weed after they just gave you a huge lecture on why you shouldn’t smoke it.
EL-P:
Exactly.
EB:
One thing that disheartens me is when I hear people, especially young people say, “Oh the state of the music industry today…I’d really love to do my own thing and have my own label but it’s not possible because I’ll never make a living.” I mean, it’s hard but it shouldn’t stop them. There are some great examples out there of people doing what you’re doing and actually making it work.
EL-P:
Yeah, they’re getting fewer and fewer though. The industry is changing and the mechanism of the delivery of the music is changing. It’s getting harder and harder to keep a label going. I mean, we have managed to do it. But, there are times when we’re just managing by the skin of our teeth. But that’s something that I’m cool with. Whatever the case is; if the ship were going to sink tomorrow I just want to know that I put my heart in it and that the records we put out we believe in. The artistic side is really the only important thing. The artists that we’re involved with, the people and the things they’re saying, you know, the label doesn’t have to exist. The label doesn’t even matter really but if it can matter in some way, it matters in the way that we get to expose you to these brilliant people that we love. My hope is to keep doing that.
EB:
You’ve said before that with Def Jux your interest is in expanding rap and being able to introduce it to people that may or may not have been introduced to it because of certain cultural parameters. Do you feel that you are still able to do that?
EL-P:
I don’t really have that as a goal. I just think that that’s been kind of a cool side effect. The goal has always just been to make great records. But I think a lot of artists that we have, including myself, have become like a gateway drug to kids who are just getting into hip-hop. And, that I like doing. That I like being. I like seeing kids at the show who you can just clearly tell that’s their first hip-hop show. They’re 17-years-old and they’ve heard something in Cage or Aesop or Lif or whoever that has actually made them perk up their ears and want to check it out. I think that there’s something to be said for that. Hip-hop music has definitely been the love of my life. I have felt good in the fact that I feel like we provide other types of voices that aren’t just readily available on the radio, you know.
EB:
Right. Last week I interviewed Aesop and we talked about whether or not hip-hop was becoming more about bravado and acrobatics rather than the music. What are your thoughts on that?
EL-P:
Well, to be honest, in a lot of ways it always was about that. We’re definitely no lack of testosterone and arrogance [laughs].
EB:
[Laughs]
EL-P:
For the first ten years of my career all I did was machismo, braggadocio -- all I did was want to prove what I was. Company Flow was all about that. It just got to the point simply as a writer for me where those battles were just too small. What I could take on as a person and what I needed to take on artistically was a lot more complicated than being a dope emcee. I think it’s a mistake for anyone to think that masculinity, machismo or a hard edge is something so easily identifiable as someone saying “I’m going to kill you” or “I’m doper than you.” I’m pretty sure I have a legitimately sharp edge to my personality but the way that I’m able to think about it right now and the way I’m able to look at it and write about it has just become a different thing. The one thing you can expect from cats around us is that they’re going to be who they really are. Whatever phase that anyone may have gone through when they were younger when they wanted to project some sort of bulletproof personality, that’s not as interesting to the people I work with anymore. You’re never setting yourself up for ridicule or defeat and a ticket to hell if you’re being honest about what you’re saying and when you’re being real about who you are. No one can tell you shit if you’re telling them exactly what’s going on with you.
EB:
Yeah, I don’t really see it just specific to hip-hop. I mean whether you’re a writer or a visual artist or whatever -- no matter what you’re doing, everyone goes through a certain phase where they feel the need to project a bulletproof façade, especially if they’re a performer and putting themselves out there makes them feel exposed.
EL-P:
It’s called being young.
EB:
Yeah.
EL-P:
As I got into my late twenties that started to change for me a bit.
EB:
Right. Well, it’s exhausting [laughs].
EL-P:
It’s exhausting and also you don’t really feel the urge anymore to stick your chest out. You know, the imaginary masses that you are proving yourself to ultimately kind of fade away in your mind. I think a lot of times that whole phase in a musician’s career, a writer’s career, or a rapper’s career is them honing their craft. It’s like, “Okay I’m going to take this format and hone my craft and really just go all out and take these tools and figure out how to use them.”
EB:
Yeah and it’s also just establishing the parameters of your creative personality. Sometimes you have to project big in order to see if you are comfortable standing in those shoes and ask, “Is this who I want to be?”
EL-P:
Yeah. With us, the guys I run with, you’re dealing with a bunch of motherfuckers who are extremely confidant in who they are.
EB:
Good, because if you don’t believe in what you are doing then why should the audience?!
EL-P:
That’s it, you know, that’s it. Ultimately there’s no philosophy that anyone or any group of people all share except trying to make that genuine shit and you can hear it. Kids can hear it. Music had such a huge influence on me as a person when I was growing up. Records were part of me, part of my emotional growth. Records I would listen to when I was angry or sad or that would just transport me somewhere, I think those records are equally as important as fun records and the great dance records and the pop records that you grew up with as well. Neither one is correct. It’s just different voices. I think a lot of people make the mistake in assuming that what we do at Def Jux is some sort of middle finger to everyone else’s music, you know. That’s really not what it’s about.
EB:
You’re not doing it to disprove anyone or anything. You’re doing it for you.
EL-P:
Exactly. Exactly.
EB:
Something you mentioned before is that the reason Def Jux is important to you is because all your friends involved can provide both creative and emotional support for each other when things get crazy. You said that what’s rad is that it’s more than just a career opportunity. I thought that was a really important point.
EL-P:
Yeah, and it’s been a big part of who we are, all of us. As everyone grows, becomes their own thing, becomes their own entity and has their own hyper career -- that essence of how we all came together really just still exists and it means something, you know. With the artists on Def Jux, there’s another element to the whole thing because all of this came out of friendships for me. Everyone on the label is a friend and that’s been the greatest thing on the planet. It’s also been one of the hardest things on the planet but I wouldn’t change it. It’s such a rare opportunity to be able to have that sort of vibe and it’s what I wanted out of dealing with art. I want to make money definitely, but I can’t be just about that in any way. There has to be something a little bit more fulfilling going on.
EB:
When you started the label did you get any lectures or warnings about mixing professional and personal?
EL-P:
No, not really [laughs]. Actually, they should have fucking warned me. I’ll tell you that much [laughs]. No, it wasn’t really like that. Of course it can get hairy at times but the positive well outweighs any type of negative. Anyone who’s on a record label, anyone who is dealing with this business, is going to have moments where something doesn’t seem right. Is it better to have those moments with a complete stranger or is it better to have those moments with someone you know?
EB:
Right, I’d rather take the risk with someone I know personally.
EL-P:
Right. I mean, it’s debatable I suppose. It’s a fragile thing to a degree but it’s something that’s really been important and worked for us.
EB:
How do you deal with those tough situations when they come up, like if you have to tell a friend that his album didn’t sell?
EL-P:
You try to figure it out every day. Luckily I don’t have the philosophy that it’s about one record selling, you know. I’m trying to work with people to have long-term careers. It’s music, it’s art -- if someone doesn’t immediately have an incredibly successful career and is generating a lot of money, it seems like a pretty thin reason not to still be positive and try to figure out how to move forward. Eventually you might get to the point where it’s financially really difficult but those types of scenarios happen. You never know exactly how to deal with it, but you just deal with it. I’m trying to use whatever my gut instinct is in order to do all that. I wish I had a fucking template.
EB:
It’s like being in a relationship. Like, hey, not every time you have sex with somebody is it going to be fucking mind blowing and fantastic. It doesn’t mean you have to throw in the towel right away. It depends on the artist or the person and how much energy you feel is worth investing.
EL-P:
No, the second that anyone doesn’t blow my mind sexually, it’s over [laughs].
EB:
[Laughs] It’s done, you’re cut.
EL-P:
Get out.
EB:
You’ve got one chance here, clock’s ticking, make it worth my while. I’m a busy man.
EL-P:
[Laughs] Exactly. I’m going to oil up and lay back -- just do it.
EB:
[Laughs] You’re like, “Yeah with artists on my label I can be a little more forgiving. But you, sweetheart, no, get off my dick…out of my house.”
EL-P:
[Laughs] Yeah, well, you know, the artists on my label basically are my fucking relationships.
EB:
Yeah, I bet. I’m sure being the head of the label and involved with all the artists can curb the amount of time you’re able to invest in your own music. Your latest album [I’ll Sleep When You’re Dead] was your first in five years. Do you feel now you have a better pace for yourself and your own creative projects?
EL-P:
I hope so. I mean, I don’t have the typical artist’s career. One of the great things about just being a career artist is you basically just get to think of yourself all the time.
EB:
I think most people do that anyway.
EL-P:
A lot of people do. But when you’re an artist you actually get to work on your art all the time and think about your career and think about what’s the next step for you. I’ve welcomed a different aspect to the way I live in that I’ve become a little bit less important than I used to be in my head. Every time I think that it’s been difficult I just kind of remind myself that this is exactly what I wanted. But, yeah, I think that five years might be a little too long in between records. I think that’s safe to say.
EB:
No matter what you do, it’s going to be difficult. If you win the lottery, and never have to work again, that’s going to be difficult. You can be a trash man, that’s going to be difficult too. You might as well have a difficult time doing what you love.
EL-P:
I might actually argue that winning the lottery might not be as difficult as you think.
EB:
[Laughs] Well, who knows? I’ve never known anyone who has won the lottery.
EL-P:
Nor have I, but I’m pretty sure I would be able to handle it.
EB:
I never understand these people who win the lottery and then complain that everybody wants them for their money so they blow their heads off.
EL-P:
[Laughs] Yeah, yeah. It’s like a relatively consistent phenomenon, isn’t it…people’s lives go down the shitter when they win the lottery.
EB:
Yeah, the curse of the lottery. Obviously those people didn’t do what I was going to do and buy a house in Italy and relax.
EL-P:
Yeah, I know. I just don’t see any problem with it. What is the problem?
EB:
Well, maybe someday you’ll win the lottery.
EL-P:
One can only hope.

For more information go to www.definitivejux.net
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