Luke Fox, a longtime writer and editor for Pound Magazine, recently published his first book, Ice-T Shot Me In The Face & Eleven Other Stories About Rap Music.
The tidy collection of interviews with influential hip-hop artists, including Jay-Z, Kanye West and Common, has been flying off the shelf at Type Books (883 Queen West). Fox took a minute to give NOW some behind-the-scenes context, and a welcome assurance about rap’s sustainability.
So, Ice-T really sprayed you in the face with a water gun? What happened?
Yes. Backstage at the 1999 Warped Tour. I had just interviewed a Fergie-free Black Eyed Peas and was told that Ice-T’s scheduled interviews weren’t happening. Young and timid but knowing I’d kick myself if I didn’t try, I knock on his tour bus door anyway. No answer. I open it slowly, take two steps up and get blasted in the face by water. Repeatedly.
Ice-T is double-fisting twin water glocks. My notebook is drenched, my face is beet red, and Ice-T’s entourage-DJ Evil E and two silly-hot girls-are laughing their heads off. Ice doesn’t even crack a smile. Then he gives me a great interview, without a publicist in sight.
We all know about the infinite delays involved in interviewing hip-hop artists. Of everyone featured in the book, who kept you waiting the longest?
Actually, everyone featured in the book was reasonably prompt. Maybe that’s why they made the cut.
Nas was a solid four hours late, though. And the interview scheduled to take place at his Atlanta home was switched to a dull hotel room last-minute because, I was told, he didn’t want journalists writing about his living room furnishings or wedding photos he wanted his music to be the focus.
For a millisecond, I considered writing about the hotel room desk out of spite.
Who’s been your most awkward or uncomfortable interview?
Mid-interview, Ludacris takes a phone call from his daughter’s mother, who’s calling to get more child support. They argue about this for what seems like 15 minutes, my recorder still running. I feel like I’m invading his privacy, but he doesn’t shoo me out of his room or walk away or tell her he’ll call back.
Eventually Luda’s body guard-huge dude-walks in and sees what’s going on instructs me to rewind the tape and record over a bulk of the conversation. Ludacris gets off his cell, and we start talking about his daughter, Karma. He never once asks that the argument be off the record, though.
You interview Kanye West in the book. Could you see his potential back then?
Oh, yeah. The whole interview took place during a 40-minute photo shoot with a crowd of about six people hanging around. It’s him against a white backdrop striking poses and answering my questions like he’s onstage performing. He breaks into a freestyle, he yells, he whispers-he’s on. You can’t fake that kind of passion.
Afterward he tells me how lucky I am to have been given such a great interview and that soon he’ll be charging for Q&A’s. Back then I thought his arrogance came with a wink.
Ghostface Killah, Jay-Z, and MF Doom are just a few of the names in this book. What have you taken away from interviewing rap’s greatest hip-hop artists?
Something different from each one. Two things I’m always interested in are the craft of rapping-done right and with an original style, it’s an amazing thing-and stories that these MCs have never had printed before, like a KMD-era DOOM touring with 2Pac when Pac danced for Digital Underground, or Ghostface talking about how he used to get disciplined as a child.
Why do you think people keep accusing Jay of being in the Illuminati?
Beyoncé envy maybe?
You interviewed Common. Are you surprised at how broad his audience has become?
Sure. Not because he’s not talented or charismatic, but when you think of the guy rapping on-beat, off-beat to impress No I.D. in his Chicago studio, or the guy who got nothing but flak for experimenting on Electric Circus, the man getting all schmoopy with Queen Latifah in Just Wright seems so far removed.
El-P is also in your book. What do you think the end of independent rap institutions like his label, Definitive Jux, and Fat Beats, mean for the future of hip-hop?
Hip-hop is fine. If you search, there is still an amazing amount of good independent rap talent out there-and a ton of crap.
How you find it has changed?
For people like myself, the end of Fat Beats is especially sad. I remember walking all over Manhattan trying to find that store, then walking in and feeling like I’d found Santa’s workshop. But if you talk to a 16-year-old, you realize they could care less about owning a physical CD or 12-inch.
What’s happening these days with Pound Magazine?
Pound was crucial to my getting published and securing interview opportunities that I’d kill for as a lifelong rap nerd. I’ve always loved that the Pound voice comes from a love and loyalty to the culture, but is still critical and serious. All that is spiked with an irreverent humour.
The print magazine, which has been publishing since 1999, is coming off a hiatus and is being helmed by The Remix Project, a great legacy for the mag their first issue comes out in January with J. Cole on the cover. The website poundmag.com relaunched a couple months ago and is making noise with its all-original content: politics and hip-hop. Myself and a lot of the original Poundlings
What’s your favourite hip-hop album of 2010?
Big Boi’s Sir Lucious Left Foot or Big K.R.I.T.’s K.R.I.T. Wuz Here. (Big Shug and Big Daddy Kane didn’t release anything in ’10.)
