Tag: Ice Cube

On ‘The Bridge: 50 Years of Hip-Hop,’ Nas Dives Into the Stories Behind the Genre’s Biggest Moments

February 22, 2022

For the past five decades, hip-hop artists have leveraged the genre to change society, culture, and the music industry as we know it—and have created icons in the process. So to mark the genre’s half-century milestone, The Bridge: 50 Years of Hip Hop, a Spotify Original podcast in partnership with Mass Appeal’s #HipHop50 program, dives deep into how hip-hop went from the microphones, turntables, and sound systems to big business and a worldwide cultural phenomenon.

Over the past four months, the hosts—rapper and hip-hop icon Nas and veteran journalist Minya “Miss Info” Oh—have interviewed icons such as Ice Cube, Cordae, Mary J. Blige, Jeezy, and Yara Shahidi. Each tells a story as unique as their music, giving listeners a glimpse of their particular place in hip-hop history. But with so many decades and names to choose from, Nas originally wasn’t sure where to begin.

“When I first thought about doing this, I thought it would be impossible to choose who to go after first,” he told For the Record in an interview. “I got love for everybody.” 

We asked Nas to share more about his perspective as a hip-hop icon speaking to other genre giants and about what podcasts he pays attention to.

What are some of the biggest changes to the genre that you’ve noticed in the three decades you’ve been on the scene?

The constant changing of the guard. The pioneers have truly inspired the youth. And that youth, they eventually become giants, and then they inspire the new, next generation to do the same and more. And it keeps growing and growing. I like to see the different artists that come out every 10 years. It’s crazy.

What’s something surprising that you’ve learned on the show so far? 

Just some of the stories—there’s so many untold stories that connect to other stories and allow you to see it as a piece of history. You see the work that was put in that you didn’t know had happened. I didn’t even know how much MC Lyte had done, just being a female artist waking up and going into a male-dominated industry because it was just something that she felt was her calling. 

Then there’s the Ice Cube and N.W.A. stories, like when they talk about coming to New York for the first time and getting booed. Those were hard times in the game. Then Ice Cube had a sold-out solo show at the Apollo Theater. He told the story of it on the podcast. I was actually on 125th Street, outside the theater that night, and I couldn’t get in. It was super lit outside in Harlem, NYC. It was that show that really established him in New York City forever. People were crazy for him. I was happy to see it because I was really into his music. And so just hearing from his side of it, how he tore the house down, was really cool.

How did these deep dives into hip-hop history influence your creative process as you put the finishing touches on your latest album, Magic?

They were really different. With the podcast, I got the opportunity to really be a fan, a student, and enjoy the people that really moved me. With Magic, it was just me putting the artist hat on. So, completely two different things, but I can say that talking to all of these guys made me more happy to be an artist in this art form because I could see that there is so much more for me to do. It makes me more happy to be a part of something that the people I’m talking to on the podcast are a part of too. They’ve inspired me. I am happy to be in their world, pushing what they are pushing.

What was the most surprising thing about creating a podcast? What have been the easiest and hardest parts?

It’s been great to step out of my comfort zone and do something that I never thought would be as fun as it’s been. I thought I’d be terrible at talking. Timing. Listening clearly—and it’s being recorded. I said ‘I’ll just be me.’ I don’t even watch my own interviews, and I thought that I’d upset people with all my prying. But I pushed through the sh*t and it’s exciting; people tell me they like listening so I guess I’m doing aight.

There are a lot of hip-hop legends who are no longer here to share their stories. If you could pick one person to have on the show, who would it be?

It would be Eazy-E or Young Dolph. I would want to learn more about Young Dolph. I’ve heard some of his music, but the people I listen to mostly are older, so I want to know more about the things that I’ve missed that only he can say and explain to me.

What are some podcasts you’ve been listening to besides your own? 

1619, Drink Champs, and a true crime podcast. 

Get more Nas and Teddy Riley (and maybe one day find out which true crime podcast Nas has been streaming?) on the latest episode of The Bridge: 50 Years of Hip-Hop every Tuesday, only on Spotify. 

Indigenous Australian Rapper Briggs Shares Message of Triumph through Music

August 8, 2019

Photo credit: Cole Bennetts

Koori rapper Briggs of the Yorta Yorta people knows the importance of sharing your voice—even when others initially say they don’t want to hear it. Growing up in the rural town of Shepparton, 120 miles north of Melbourne, Australia, Briggs learned that through music he could tell stories that were uniquely his—including on complex topics of race, identity, and privilege. It’s something that remains an essential aspect of his music, and also that of his side project, A.B. Original, with fellow Indigenous Australian artist Trials.

We spoke with Briggs in honor of the International Day of the World’s Indigenous Peoples. He explained how his music—shaped by the rap and rock heroes he idolized during his childhood— helped create a platform within his community and blazed a new trail for Indigenous Australian voices. 

What was your earliest exposure to music?

I grew up in a country town, where [I was] surrounded by souped-up Commodores and mullets, and cowboys with their gigantic bullbars and 20-foot antennas. Rap music was a big part of that, and I was pretty heavy into punk rock and metal, too—anything anti-establishment, like Guns N’ Roses, Ice Cube, and Snoop Dogg, which were always within arm’s reach of a tape deck. Punk rock stuff I liked was Green Day, blink-182, and The Vandals. I really got into Misfits and Motorhead, too. Just ’90s stuff, you know, Wu-Tang—anything cool.

How have the challenges for emerging artists in Shepparton changed since you were growing up?

Being a kid in Shepparton is a challenge because you’re isolated from music and ideas. When you’re in Melbourne, a kid in the city, you can see things happening. In Shepparton, you don’t get to see that, so you have to try and make it—and you have a lot of people telling you that you’re not allowed to make it, you know? I used to put shows on when I was a kid, get local bands to play, and take some money for myself. I started my hustle when I was 15. 

How is it different sharing your culture as an Indigenous person now versus back then? 

Shepparton has the largest Indigenous population in Victoria outside of Melbourne. It also has the largest Indigenous population in Victoria per capita. So there was always a presence, and it was always just a part of us and what we did and still do. We just operated as artists and rappers. You don’t really realize how different you are until it’s presented to you.

If you want to know what it’s like to be an Indigenous person in Australia today, just listen to my music. I’m tired of panels, I’m tired of lectures, I’m tired of keynotes—just listen to the music and go to the shows if you want to find out!

What are some of the misconceptions about your culture locally, and globally, that you’re trying to overcome with your music?

The message that I’m trying to get across with my music is one of triumph. Statistically, I’m not meant to be doing the things I’m doing. When I was a kid, I had Ice-T, Ice Cube, Biggie, Snoop Dogg—but I didn’t have someone from home [to idolize]. I started to figure all this out around [my third record] Sheplife. I realized I had to release legacy records.

A.B. Original was the beginning of that. What was the album I needed when I was a young, 15-year-old kid, when I was being told rap music wasn’t for Australia? It wasn’t like they were just saying rap music wasn’t for Koori kids, they were saying rap music wasn’t for Australia. And I think we nailed it with our album Reclaim Australia, to be honest. When it really made sense for me was when my cousins and nephews were playing our music on Bluetooth speakers at parties. That’s when I knew we’d achieved what we had set out to do.

Tell us about your next body of work and how you’ve approached putting it together.

I really wanted to set Briggs apart from A.B. Original, so with Briggs, it’s me as a person. There are other avenues for me to explore as an artist and as an individual. I want to work with some people I haven’t worked with before, and something that translates to a good, fun, live show as well. And just explore some thoughts and ideas musically that I haven’t yet and aren’t A.B. Original-centric.

Tell us about some great up-and-coming Indigenous voices in music.

Alice Skye is going to be a mega-star. Kobie Dee. Nooky is a dark horse, a quadruple threat. Philly just dropped an incredible track called “Brown Skin.” Everything on our label Bad Apples is really exciting at the moment.

Spotify is proud to be an official partner of the National Indigenous Music Awards 2019 taking place tomorrow in Darwin, Australia. Briggs is nominated for Best Artist and Film Clip of the Year, having previously won Best New Artist and a number of other accolades since 2014. 

For more on how we’re working to amplify Indigenous Australian voices, read about our Sound Up Bootcamp in Sydney last fall.