OutKast’s Big Boi dons a fresh persona on solo debut
Words by Vincent Girimonte – Photo by Jonathan Mannion
Nobody would fault Big Boi if he were to sit at home–one of his homes, maybe–put his feet on stacks of platinum 45s and take dog slumbers until his kids tugged on his socks. This is as true today as it was 10 years ago, and maybe a few years before that–it’s been 16 years, even, since OutKast’s Southernplayalisticadillacmuzik, and not much has changed, at least in the sense that there will never be enough Big Boi and André 3000 to go around.
The flipside of that coin may be best depicted by a recent Tweet, simply exclaiming “University of Iowa!!!!!!!!!!!!!” Big Boi (Antwan Patton), touring the United States at a svelte 35 and pushing his fantastic first official solo release, Sir Lucious Left Foot: The Son of Chico Dusty, can’t seem to shake the DNA that propelled him into the spotlight as a youngster.
“I’ve been in the game since I was a teenager, basically grew up in this,” he says. “I believed, but I never imagined it’d take me this far.”
How Big Boi met Dré is worn material: performing arts high school in Atlanta, teenage but not rival MCs signed shortly thereafter, and the rest is the so-called sweet soul, G-funk-meets-Southern-fried history. The aftermath of the Big Boi and André hiatus, which they declared back in 2006, is perhaps the more compelling tale, albeit also worn out if not a bit drawn out at this point. Sir Lucious… began recording in 2007, ultimately to be released on Jive Records, the entity that absorbed OutKast’s longtime label, LaFace (Arista) Records. What ensued was more or less a rehashing of the classic corporate omnipotence versus artistic integrity; Sir Lucious… was tagged as overly artistic, unmarketable–words often de facto euphemisms for excellent, ambitious or at the very least, interesting.
“‘Shutterbug’ had been done for almost three years, but Jive didn’t believe,” he says, speaking on the album’s Scott Storch club-buster single (two words: music video). “They wanted me to follow trends, make another ‘Lollipop.’ I love that song, and no disrespect to [Lil] Wayne, but come on, how are you going to tell me to try to copy someone’s style?”
Most of the recording had been completed on Jive money–Big Boi says it’s essentially the same album minus a few tracks featuring André 3000, who, unlike Big Boi, is still signed with Jive–but the finishing touches were sewn under Def Jam, reconnecting Big Boi with LA Reid, founder of LaFace Records. As for Jive asking Big Boi to “cover” Lil Wayne’s “Lollipop”: “I took that as disrespect.”
“Being at Def Jam and back with LA Reid is like going back home,” he says. “He’s one of the first and few people in this industry that believed in me and Dré from the very beginning.”
Jive probably had their reasons for essentially dropping what many have called the hip-hop album of the year, but it’s really hard to conjure up a decent one, at least to a guy who wasn’t in the room. Put it this way: somebody lost their job.
Sir Lucious is gloriously, triumphantly scatterbrained, dabbling in funk, empowering the ‘80s synth and devolving into dubstep rhythm on a track featuring George Clinton–because of course it would. If there’s a thread to be found, it’s quite simply how well it all comes together.
“You can always tell it’s an OutKast record or Big Boi record because we love taking it in a direction you didn’t expect,” he says. Aquemini, OutKast’s third release on LaFace, solidified the duo’s position as hip-hop’s boundary pushers; “Rosa Parks,” perhaps Aquemini’s lasting single, is bridged with a front-porch, knee-slapping harmonica boogie, at once perplexing and infesting the listener’s conscience.
But OutKast has always used heavy-handed concepts in their recording while avoiding the dreaded “concept album.” Sir Lucious… employs a similar ethos, pulling but never piggybacking, creating something fresh while maintaining a steady bump-bump.
“First of all, the drums have to knock. Funk/soul, it’s all about that boom so that definitely has to be there,” Big Boi says, laying some ground rules for production. The aforementioned “Shutterbug” does well to embody this album’s unapologetic club-ness, using synths and sweet vocals over tight percussion bars. “Tangerine,” featuring T.I. and Khujo from Goodie Mob (“That’s how you represent the A right there, going in strong!”), is in the same vein of classy club–dirty enough for the strobe while lyrically intricate. André 3000, prohibited by Jive from laying down verses for Sir Lucious, does receive a production credit for “You Ain’t No DJ,” a manic, demented cowbell beat featuring fellow ATLien Yelawolf, one of many high-powered collaborations. (Regrettably, a Kate Bush–Big Boi’s favorite artist–cameo fell through for Sir Lucious…; “If you’re reading this then holler at me, Kate!”)
All of the production glitz, like the Jive dispute, has perhaps overshadowed some of Big Boi’s most refined writing. Getting into his old man years, he still manages to keep a fresh, at times hyper-topical, perspective.
“Sir Lucious is me doing my grown man,” he says of Sir Lucious being one of several Big Boi rap personas. Indeed, the album speaks of years on the scene–ups, downs and “busters.” Politics too, such as in “Daddy Fat Sax,” the second track on Sir Lucious…: “And who you votin’ for, Republican or Democratic? Don’t say it doesn’t matter ‘cause that’s how they stole the last one, assassin’s bullet might be waitin’ for Obama, do you think they’ll have a brother before Billy’s baby mama?”
“It’s a little different because when it’s both me and Dré, the work load is split up. But when it’s just me, all the writing is on me, hooks and verses,” says Big Boi. The former half of Speakerboxxx/The Love Below, Outkast’s 2004 release, is essentially a Big Boi solo album, but lacks the introspection of Sir Lucious… And it may help, of course, that there’s no competing with André 3000’s dazzling homage to ‘60s teeny boppers.
As part of a three-record deal with Def Jam, the follow up to Sir Lucious…, titled Daddy Fat Sax: Soul Funk Crusader (after another one of Big Boi’s pseudonyms), is allegedly midway through the recording process. One thing is for sure: University of Iowa hasn’t seen the last of Big Boi.
