Freddie Gibbs - Slammin.mp3
Freddie Gibbs – Slammin’ [MP3]
Freddie Gibbs has carved out the most gangster corner of downtown Austin’s otherwise extravagant Hilton lobby. It’s a familiar five star design: plush leather couches, a South by Southwest sanctioned McStage harboring chilled out, sensitive guitar guys; lots of windows, wi-fi, a coffee shop named Java Jive. There’s also a dimly lit, airport-recalling bar and in its dark, back corner Gibbs sips Hennessey on the rocks.
At 27, the rapper has already been restrained and discarded by Interscope, become disillusioned with the genre’s talent, ascended to trendy blog bait on the heels of two exhilarating, freely downloadable 2009 mixtapes, The Miseducation of Freddie Gibbs and Midwestgangstaboxframecadillacmuzik. Gangsta rap on a ’93 tip.
He’s in a black hoodie, black fitted. His manager, Archie, checks laptops as his boys, one a Rick Ross lookalike sporting impenetrable black shades, say nothing. Gibbs provides direct, honest, warm and thoughtful answers. He’s not like most hip-hop interviews, in other words.
“I’m not interested in being the most famous rapper,” Gibbs says frankly, without blinking, “I’m interested in being the best rapper alive.”
Good thing, too, because Gibbs ruffled lots of feathers with his first, decidedly non-gangster dent on the culture: an academic New Yorker feature wherein the author (a) declared hip-hop’s irrelevance and (b) anointed Gibbs as its last hope. The genre you know and love is dead, the white Sasha Frere-Jones arrogantly theorized, except for this guy I found.
If you read the oft-circulated and retorted piece, I don’t blame you for blacklisting Gibbs out of principle. But the embargo is worth lifting, if only because he embraces the pressure.
“He’s a good guy and I appreciated Frere-Jones taking the time to write about me,” Gibbs said, “I don’t take issue with his claim because I believe it.”
Photos by Callie Richmond
Freddie Gibbs hails from Gary, Indiana and makes streets-based rap the way it should sound in 2010: learned, lyrical, about robbing, in societal context. His voice is thick, grizzly. A faster Slim Thug. A smarter Young Buck. His appeal lies in an innate ability to spit the occasional run of the mill boast (“Gibbs run in your crib like Kris Kringle” or “I’m from the home of the old-fashioned Joe Jackson ass-whoopin’”) and have said phrase resonate for days.
“I rap with tunnel vision,” Gibbs said, “that’s all I really do.”
continue reading "Interview: Freddie Gibbs Reps Gangsta Rap at SXSW"
