![]() It was a studio where everybody would meet and make music at. I always looked at old footage of the Beastie Boys when they made “Check Your Head,” and their studio was a certain way. ![]() Sometimes, when people fuck up the studio and it’s a mess or something, I’m always like, “Yo, this is a sanctuary. I always wanted to have an environment where it’s comfortable for people to create and not pressure them. I never really wrote that on a board, like, “That’s my goal.” But I think that was my goal in the back of my head. How does it feel to be an integral part of a community of lyricists? You’ve worked with so many artists with distinctive sounds, but they’re all connected through you. In your recent interview with Idea Generation, you talked about the rap camp where you had an open door policy in your studio. Because had I drifted off into obscurity and not connected with the right new young artists, it may not have given me those extra laps that get the next heat. I’ve got to give a lot of credit to the artists I’ve been able to work with, too. It gives me energy to keep going, because I feel like I’ve got a lot more juice still, even though I’m not a young guy. But I love the opportunity that I’ve been given, and the fact that I’m in this era and still getting acknowledged. I feel like MCs may not want to give it up like that sometimes. I’m not afraid to say I’m inspired by other producers that are existing. I feel like producers have a brotherhood, even more than MCs do. Like, nah, have you heard V Don? Have you heard ? It’s always been awkward, just because I’m tempted to put the light somewhere else. Some of the people that I look up to, I think, “Ah, I could never be that good.” I always feel weird with compliments because we do this for ourselves first, but of course we want to get the recognition, too. I get my inspiration from everyone else, so I often feel inferior. I would never imagine myself that, you know what I mean? I try to be the best version of me. What does that dignification mean to you? How much do you care about being perceived as the best producer? I mean, it’s dope that you care, but I can think of a lot of living guys that are pretty damn good. I mean, I don’t know if I can take that, because there’s a lot of great producers out there. You were just named 2021’s Best Hip-Hop Producer Alive. The interview, lightly edited for clarity, is below. He says also compelled to stay busy, because he’s his own boss at ALC Records, which saved him from a previous industry experience where his “fate is wrapped in the hands of A&R meetings, record labels, and radio guys.” Now, his fate is in his own hands, as he drops free projects, bolstered by creative merch, vinyls, and touring.Ĭomplex had an extensive talk with the producer about his 2021 highlights, his thoughts on “underground rap,” how his craft has evolved over the years, and his 2022 plans (which already have him on the fast track to 2022 Best Hip-Hop Producer Alive contention). After all, he credits fellow producers for helping to motivate him to lock in the studio every day and make music. That torrential output earned him the distinction as Complex’s Best Hip-Hop Producer Alive for 2021 (you can see past winners and read the full explanation here).Īlchemist says he appreciates the honor, but he has no plans to wield it over his peers. In 2021, he dropped eight projects, including two with Boldy James, one with Armand Hammer, and a pair of This Thing of Ours EPs featuring a loose crew of talented lyricists he was connected with through his close friend Earl Sweatshirt. ![]() Rap fans can always be sure that three things are eternally looming: death, taxes, and a dope Alchemist collab album. Alchemist recalls having a New Year’s Eve barbecue, organized by Chuck Inglish, which ended up turning into a week of music-making that forged artistic kinships since credited with defining a subsection of 2010s rap. He wanted it to feel like “a sanctuary.” That’s all an artist can ask for, but the open-door policy he instituted at his new studio, deemed “the rap camp” for a time, did more than that. While building his first LA studio, he simply wanted it to be an environment that was “comfortable for people to create,” he says. He was already a well-regarded producer, thanks to his work with rap royalty like Mobb Deep and Dilated Peoples and classic hits like “We Gonna Make It” and “Hold U Down.” But he was looking for something new. Sometime around the turn of the 2010s, The Alchemist moved back to his native Los Angeles in hopes of starting a new musical chapter.
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