JAZZ CARTIER at the Phoenix Concert Theatre (410 Sherbourne), Friday (February 5), doors 9 pm, all ages. $24. ticketmaster.ca.
If you walked in on Jazz Cartier’s opening set for New York MC Joey Bada$$ during Canadian Music Week last May, you would’ve been forgiven for thinking the Toronto rapper was headlining.
As he bounded around the Danforth Music Hall stage, a whirlwind of punk-rock energy coursed through the horde of fans waving arms and rapping along to month-old songs.
It was his third show ever.
Cartier (real name Jaye Adams) plays his first proper hometown headlining gig for a sold-out crowd at the 1,350-capacity Phoenix on Friday in support of his second mixtape, Hotel Paranoia.
Like last year’s Marauding In Paradise mixtape, the 16-track release was recorded almost entirely with his producing partner Lantz, aside from the song Tell Me, which was produced by River Tiber, who also sings on the hook. The release features no guest verses from other rappers. He’s neither guested on another rapper’s track nor used a co-sign from an established star to cross-promote – standard moves for a rising MC.
“I’m showing that it’s possible to do things by yourself and build from the ground up,” Cartier, who also answers to Jacuzzi La Fleur, tells NOW. “I find it cool – especially in a city like ours where everyone is trying to ride someone else’s wave. I’m a lifeguard among every wave rider.”
He’s making the most of the fact that Drake, the Weeknd and their respective producing teams are now firmly entrenched in the American pop mainstream and attracting attention to the city.
“There’s a new chapter in this era of Toronto music, and I’m ushering it in,” says Cartier. “A lot of us are getting better looks that the older guys didn’t really get. The eyes are on the city, man. Heavy. Heavy. Heavy. And show me someone else that has the star quality – like, superstar quality.”
Not that Cartier isn’t spending any time on the road.
When NOW sat down with him in a photo studio on Geary, he’d just returned from Los Angeles, where he was working with Mike Will Made-It on the Grammy-winning producer’s Ransom 2 mixtape. His team was frantically trying to renew his passport so he could jet to Venice, Italy, to shoot a video for new single Opera.
Cartier plants himself in an office chair and puts his feet on the arm of the couch, exposing a pair of traffic-stopping neon orange socks that practically illuminate the room as the sun sets outside.
“It was good for me to get out of my element and not be afraid but be uncertain for the first time,” he says of the collaboration with Mike Will Made-It. “I’m so used to knowing what to expect when Lantz and I are together. This was eye-opening.”
There is a highly theatrical, Old World vibe throughout Hotel Paranoia. Cartier and Lantz have developed a grandiose, spacious sound that augments booming trap drums and panned-out hi-hats with sometimes distorted brass and orchestral flourishes that evoke Hitchcock scores.
If MIP was about finding his voice, Hotel Paranoia is about honing his song craft with sharper concepts, bigger hooks and more diverse flow and beat patterns. He’s also working on getting over a speech impediment that makes it hard to rap certain words.
Black And Misguided delves into racial violence and stereotypes 100 Roses muses on death and rebirth Illuminati Love Song treats the conspiratorial secret society as a romantic metaphor.
He’s especially excited for fans to hear Intro/Talk Of The Town, on which he raps: “I’m the prince of the city / I’m the talk of the town / No one is fucking with me / cause I ain’t fuckin’ around.”
Opera is similarly boastful, claiming he’s “the new face of the country.”
“I don’t think any rapper that I’m categorized with is on the same level as me. I’m not saying it in an egotistical way,” he elaborates. “I’m really rapping, man. I’m really making the songs. How many videos did I drop last year, bro? I put out damn near five or six videos.”
Labels have made offers, but he’s holding out for “the million.” In the meantime, he invests back into his music and speaks disdainfully of rappers who blow money on designer clothes and drugs.
His work ethic is a topic he returns to frequently.
“I don’t think I’m gonna be friends with a lot of rappers,” he says while spinning on the office chair, the flower crown from the photo shoot still on his head.
“We’re just different,” he explains. “I’m very big on legacy. Maybe it’s because of boarding school. All the kids had actual legacies. They’d roam the same halls as their grandfathers who went to that school.”
Cartier’s stepfather worked for the U.S. State Department, so he travelled a lot as a kid and attended 13 boarding schools in the U.S., Barbados and Kuwait.
He partially credits his success to that time. His former classmates now attend colleges throughout the States and are hitting him up on Facebook as his profile rises.
“That’s the biggest networking,” he says. “I found a crack in the system.”
Boarding school might’ve paid off in word-of-mouth marketing, but lasting friendships proved elusive. Any time he started at a new school, he was perpetually on the outside of tight-knit groups of friend.
It wasn’t until February 2013 at now-defunct Geary Avenue restaurant Kitch that he met a group of guys he would call his brothers. A day after Drake dropped Started From The Bottom, the DJ played it 10 times in a row. At that moment, the Get Home Safe crew was born.
“It was literally the most magical experience of my life,” he says. “I remember it so clearly. We were all gone out of our minds, man. I think I broke a TV ‘n shit. It was a beast-mode party.”
Get Home Safe, which included rappers Derek Wise and Drew Howard, moved into a three-floor Kensington Market pad dubbed The Palace. It became a notorious party spot, and they provided its soundtrack by competing to make the best party songs. Those songs helped propel their reputation beyond the city.
And then it ended.
“We had a falling out,” he says. “I’ll take the blame for most of it. In this case, there are five sides to every story.”
Recounting the breakup, he’s both wistful and pragmatic. He still considers them brothers, but he was becoming lost in the scene and needed to refocus.
“You need to lose something to gain something, and I lost some brothers but gained myself back,” he says. “As selfish as I may be at times, I need to be even more selfish to get to where I want to be. And that’s how it is.”
Nowadays, he’s focused on establishing himself and Lantz as a creative unit to be reckoned with.
The two met in a studio when Cartier was 16, exchanged numbers and talked on the phone for hours. The next day they recorded their first song in Cartier’s bathroom.
They’re a contrast in styles – hence their chemistry. Cartier clearly likes to be the centre of attention. After the photo shoot, he entertained his stylists and manager by dancing around in his boxers and neon socks.
Lantz is invisible by comparison.
“He’s very low-key,” says Cartier. “He’ll come to parties and no one knows who he is, but he’ll be making everyone laugh. He gets off on that.”
Family is increasingly important to Cartier.
“My mom is my biggest support system,” he says. “I’m dealing with my oldest little brother. He’s giving her a hard time right now. I’m trying to be a big brother, be an artist, be a friend – I’m wearing so many hats that it’s overwhelming.”
The year ahead will be about juggling those responsibilities with touring, playing festivals and releasing more free music.
He also intends to deliver on the superstar aspirations he predicts so confidently on the mixtape.
“I’ve been practising in the mirror for so long,” he says. “Like, I’m not made for this normal life, bro. Even today, dealing with all that passport shit, I was like, ‘Where’s my assistant at?! Let’s be real!’
“It’s fine, though. I forget that I’m still a 22-year-old shithead kid that lives in Kensington Market. In my mind I’ve been a celebrity all my life.”
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kevinr@nowtoronto.com | @kevinritchie
