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Our interview series Icebreaker features artists talking about things—some strange, some amusing, some meaningful—that just might reveal their true selves. This edition features indie-rap vet Aesop Rock, whose latest album, The Impossible Kid, is out now on Rhymesayers.
What’s the biggest musical risk you’ve ever taken?
I’ve never taken some weird musical risk where I did some odd time signature for a whole album or something. My career is like a big pussyfoot.
Really, my biggest risk was just the initial step to quit my day job to do music. I was packaging and shipping for an art gallery in Manhattan; I went to school for painting, so I always wanted to work around artwork, even though I wasn’t really contributing anything to the scene. That job didn’t really even require a fucking college education, but I thought it would get me to where I thought I wanted to be—and they gave me a tape gun and a stapler, which made me feel powerful.
I was in my 20s when I quit, but I remember being super nervous to call my mom and tell her, [weepingly] “I’m going to quit my job to be a rapper.” I talked to my brothers first, like, “What should I tell mom?” They were like, “Fuck mom. You’re an adult you can do what you want.” It didn’t feel like that, though. I still had this fear of letting my parents down.
Do you think your life would be better or worse without social media?
There’s not a day that goes by where I don’t want to completely abandon all of it, which makes me think that it would be better. But I also have to recognize that it’s part of my job these days. I mean, I don’t have anyone saying, “You have to tweet,” but I do have record labels who are like, “It’s better if you tweet.” And it’s not just music; I know professional skateboarders that get the same shit. Everyone wants their guys to have a good relationship with people, which is totally fine and understandable—until you hit some patch where you’re like, My life is fucked up right now and it might be for another six months and I don’t feel saying hello to my followers. At that point, the idea [of doing social media] is the bane of my existence.
The immediate contact can be cool, but it’s also kind of frightening. It’s pretty much expected that you’re going to be available for everybody now. Someone could literally be like, “I love your album. Can you tell me what you were inspired by on the third track?” And if you don’t get back to them for some fucking reason—maybe your cousin died—they’re like, “I’m not a fan of your fucking music anymore!” And you’re like, “What the fuck happened?” There’s this expectation there that’s impossible to uphold for everyone all the time.
What’s the most recent song you’ve heard that made you believe in the power of music?
Homeboy Sandman’s “Unraveling.” It’s like a one-verse song—there’s no chorus, no drums, very bare bones—that hits the nail on the head. These days, he’s one of the people who’s writing rhymes in a way that moves me.
Who would you want to play you in a movie about your life?
I want to say like Jeff Bridges, but he might be a little too cool for me. Maybe John Goodman. He has that mixture: He’s pretty cool, but he’s seen some shit. There’s a little pain behind those eyes. And then a young Michael Jordan would play me in the flashbacks.
What’s a band that you love that no one would suspect given the music you make?
The Mountain Goats. That’s my giant non-rap, long-term relationship, the one that never went away since I first heard them in the ’90s. My brother came home from college with a Mountain Goats cassette and I was like, “What is this?” The lyrics were crazy to me. I’d never heard anything like it. I was like, "This guy’s not even that good at playing guitar, he’s just writing his ass off." So as a guy who became very attached to the idea of writing lyrics—which has pretty been my life for the last 20 years—someone as prolific and original as John [Darnielle] has been everything to me. One year, he put one of my records on his top ten list, and I was like, “Holy shit!”
What do you think is the best aspect of modern music culture?
We’re just flooded with more music than we know what to do with and everyone and their mom has a band now—and that’s not a bad thing. It means that there’s a bunch of people who are trying to be creative on some level. I like that a lot of laptops come with a multi-track digital recorder now, which is fucking insane if you think about it. I had been using a 4-track and a digital 8-track in the ’90s, and it was this huge complicated thing. But GarageBand is right there. You can pretty much record a fucking album on your phone. Just the fact that all that stuff exists is pretty bananas.
What’s a moment in your life when you felt like a complete idiot?
Just the other day I’d been off of antidepressants for over a year and I was excited—but now I’m back on them. That’s happened a couple of times over the 15 year relationship I’ve had with antidepressants. I’ll think, Finally, I’m done! and then my doctor will be like, “I think you should go on some antidepressants.” It feels so fucking defeating, but it is what it is.
What fictional character do you relate to the most?
Michigan J. Frog—you know, that frog on the Looney Tunes and shit? Because he’ll sing, and then when they want him to sing he just doesn’t sing anymore. If everyone just leaves me alone, I’ll sing. Just let me be.