Can we create an award for Madlib and Freddie Gibbs’ “Bandana”?
Situations — on Madlib and Freddie Gibbs’ 2019 Bandana release — ends with the cussing pastor seizing the album. Talking about his idea for a “Fuck You Friday,” the Memphis radio host and pastor Thaddeus Matthews imagines a holiday where he grills ribs and doesn’t “give a shit about what people have to say about you.” That’s probably how someone expressing homophobic views and charged with harassment (posting nude photos of another man) needs to operate.
The cussing pastor is also the perfect figure for the musing of Freddie Gibbs, who stays busy posting the most insane people visible on the internet on his Instagram account — usually with his tag lines, “good crack” or “D’Fuck?” (now available on hats). The posts are curated fully by Gibbs and can run for as many as 25 stories, sometimes at odds with Instagram’s community standards. Most stunningly to Gibbs, he gets tagged with bullying.
Freddie and his 589,000 followers feared his days ended there when Instagram threatened a ban last month. “On to Trapchat,” he said. He posted away through the weekend nevertheless— the lewd alongside fatherly moments with his young daughter Irie and toddler son Rabbit. He got the pair a puppy for quarantine and puts Rabbit to work on the Pioneer DJ machine. Rabbit ad-libs with Gibbs over beats and gets a full range of Gibbs’ playlist from his carseat in the back of the SUV. Last week included Ice Cube’s “You Know How We Do It” and wonders about when we can go outside again. Gibbs opens up “Club Diego” on Instagram while Rabbit sleeps, inviting other users to twerk while he sips some liquor. Freddie Gibbs is online.
Madlib, by contrast, doesn’t own a phone. The legendary producer finds a way to contact who he needs to. That included Freddie, the Gary, Indiana rapper with a voice so gritty and deep it reverberates like legends passed on from this world — yet glides with the footwork of Shaq. Gibbs sounds like rap’s golden age brought back to bullshit on the iPhone. Madlib is in on the joke, as “Situations” fades away, he plays a mocking church organ over the cussing pastor’s rambling.
That comfort between MC and producer is what made Bandana an album that needs an award. The GRAMMYS came and went with it peaking at 21 on the Billboard Charts despite Complex, Spin and Vulture dubbing it one of the 10 best albums of 2019. Not rap albums. Albums period.
GRAMMY nominations went to Tyler, the Creator, Meek Mill, Dreamville, 21 Savage and YBN Cordae for best rap album. The BET awards pulled Lizzo and DJ Khaled into the conversation. Not even “GIANNIS,” featuring Anderson .Paak, could turn a voters’ heads with its rap-hook sequencing.
Real Gs move in silence like Giannis
My Greek freak, we did a ménage with a friend in St. Thomas
This isn’t a new story for Madlib, who achieved legendary status with his rise through the underground Lootpack group before joining MF DOOM as Stones Throw Record’s premier duo — MadVillain. Their lone release Madvillainy dropped in 2004 and peaked at 174 in the Billboard 200. It never garnered Metal Face any hardware before becoming regarded as one of the greatest alternative hip-hop albums ever.
Madlib is a figure that makes the genre’s enthusiasts swoon, the father of a beats generation that favors etherial, jazzy and experimental sounds over popular production styles. He spends more time in Brazil seeking out the country’s drum patterns than at award shows in his native So.Cal.
For fans digging through crates and ardent supporters of “real” hip-hop, or someone looking for an obscure artist to call their own outside of pop circles, Madlib delivers. His highest-charting albums are jazz explorations: Shades of Blue and two of his Madlib Medicine Shows. While Gibbs performed on NPR’s Tiny Desk, Madlib sat in front subtly tapping tiny bongos.
Gibbs threw his arms around Otis at the end. Both clearly feeling the brown liquor in their cups at the NPR office while the band members look on sideways. He delivered a big kiss on MadLib’s cheek. “We been through a lot of shit … this man up here, he took me to another level.”
Love at first sight occurred over another two drinks on the other side of the country. Gibbs’ Ben “Lambo” Lambert introduced him to Madlib and Stones Throw Records collaborator Egon on N. Cahuenga Boulevard at LA’s The Do-Over. They became enamored with each other’s music and the rest followed.
Madlib has never won a GRAMMY. But when you discuss the Mt. Rushmore of all-time rap producers, him and J. Dilla are already carved alongside Dr. Dre and Kanye West. There’s no more room. That was already cemented when Madlib — Otis Jackson Jr. — discovered the LA transplant, originally signed as a protégé to Young Jeezy.
The trap sound evolving out of Jeezy’s prime to what would become the popular sound in hip-hop would’ve befit Freddie Gibbs, born Frederick Tipton into drugs, his uncle’s murder and robbing trains — as Jeff Weiss wrote in 2009. Gibbs admits he could have fallen into trends if Madlib didn’t challenge him— or worse. When Bandana arrived last year he had nearly lost his life multiple times.
“That’s when this music shit wasn’t movin’, man
I said I might as well be movin’ thangs
’Cause when this music wasn’t movin’, man
And I was barely even movin’ thangs
Said I was moving with them shooters, man
Before I barely even knew the game
East Side, Gary, nigga, I got it tatted
Virginia Street, fuck the niggas that ratted, my nigga
Don’t wan’ hit the trap if I don’t gotta” — “Freestyle Shit”
“I needed to do whatever it took to get out of Gary alive,” he told Weiss. Multiple criminal charges, an Army discharge and little care for school left Gibbs with two choices. One killed too many around him. Studio it was.
The influence of Bones Thugs-N-Harmony, among a bevy of other midwest greats, both set Gibbs apart and made it difficult to launch a career. His voice, passion and flow landed him a short run with Interscope, as Weiss reported, but no album. Eminem passed, knowing how much a midwest act needed to overcome to reach widespread appeal. Kanye West and Em’ were exceptions.
Now independent through his own ESGN label, Gibbs proved an even unlikelier success. His range and appeal made him a favorite of powerful voices like DJ Skee, then eventually Madlib, who released two limited-edition physical projects with him in the early 2010s before three yearly singles teased their 2014 Piñata classic.
“My stuff, it ain’t fully quantized,” Madlib said, referring to the technique Dilla and he shared and popularized. “It has more of a human feel, so it might slow down or speed up … so you have to be the type of rapper, like (MF) Doom or Freddie, who can catch that, or else you’ll be sounding crazy.”
Freddie. In the same breadth as Doom. Madlib and Doom were inseparable in hip-hop lore for a decade at that point. Freddie emerged with the most jaw-dropping rap release in 2014 — a self-proclaimed blaxploitation film where his storytelling “Deeper,” elicit drug-dealing imagery “Thuggin” and ability to glide on beats as kaleidoscopic as “Robes” earned him widespread acclaim.
“I only think of you on two occasions…,” he crooned in falsetto on the latter track. Doom indeed.
Pitchfork and others raved while fans called for a sequel. Pinata holds up today with epic duels between Gibbs and Danny Brown, Raekwon, Scarface and a posse cut that tragically included Mac Miller. Yet the crowded rooms, elaborate beats and creative process where Madlib handed Gibbs instrumentals off-site limited the duos’ singular allure among illustrious guests.
The cohesion and comfort between producer and MC rose to an unparalleled level in 2019. A new dose of desperation, near futility, allowed it to happen.
Gibbs wrote most of Bandana in jail. One month after Madlib announced he and Gibbs would follow-up Pinata, French authorities arrested him after a show. He’d soon be extradited to Austria on rape charges, with officials there claiming he delivered a knock-out drug to sexually impair a woman.
“A lot of things was going through my mind,” Gibbs said. He faced 10 years in jail. “This is what I’m about to go to prison for? Everything I’ve done, and I’m about to go to prison for this? That I didn’t even do, punish me for something else, I don’t want this on my name at all. People know my character, the people that love me and the people that surround me know I’m not that.”
Lambo coordinated a team of roughly 11 US and Austrian-based lawyers that acquitted Gibbs by the end of 2016. Hotel witnesses and a lack of evidence that sex occurred exonerated him. For four months he prayed five times each day and wrote most of Bandana.
The bars were therapeutic, he told Ebro with tears streaming down his cheek. He touched topics he wouldn’t have without that experience, separated from his kids and not knowing if his life was over. “This album’s my baby, because it got me back to my babies.”
Madlib cleared the lane and shined the spotlight on Gibbs’ experience, personality and technical skill. Soul riffs, call-and-response sounds and hard kicks allow for some powerfully forward-moving verses from Gibbs. The album’s 46 minutes soar.
Gibbs reflects on cheating regrets and returning to his kids on the soulful Donny Hathaway-backed “Practice” (I love the subtle laugh in the opening second). Hard-charging guitar chords carries “Cataracts” from Gibbs’ sandwich preference into a beat shift where he reflects on being “depressed as fuck.” “Gat Damn” caps the prolific three-track stretch reminiscing on faith behind bars with an experimental, sing-song flow which, like Situations, embodies his inner Krayzie Bone. His breath control allows him to always channel the studio quality of his verses.
Ah, goddamn (breath) I’m callin’ Lam’
MoneyGram (breath) go send the bail, I’m in a jam
In the jail (breath) I’m in the cell, can’t see the fam
Say my prayers (breath) alhamdulillah, no bacon ham
Bacon ham (breath) and cold salami, that’s all they serve us
Stomach hurtin’ (breath) the devil working, but I ain’t nervous
Beat the verdict (breath) but lost a milli’, guess life ain’t perfect
Whippin’ birdies (breath) the devil working, but I ain’t nervous — “Gat Damn”
Gat Damn’s visual features Freddie, as his alter-ego Kane, with a full head of hair and zebra-studded suit insulting his band members before performing the track on the Soul Train set.
Bandana is hilarious, emotional and political all in one. Gibbs raps about a reality star in the oval office all over again as a Reagan era child on “Palmolive.” His bars casting doubt on vaccines and sympathizing with the Dallas police killer Micah Johnson on the album’s final track for being unprecedentedly killed by a robot spun rather than turned heads.
That’s Gibbs, his own Madvillain in many ways that transcends the comic book skits and mask. He bares all with no filter, didn’t hide from his case after release and insults many; a criminal who’s there for his kids. “I’ve done walked through hell in these size 12s,” he raps on “Fake Names,” and whether you approve of him or not, Bandana allowed us to understand him.
Most real, underrated, classic — the YouTube comments will determine it — but it’s an award-winner in spirit that simply needs a title. Madlib & Freddie Gibbs already named the next one — Montana.
