The New York Times and Entertainment Weekly swooned. Music magazine Blender called Vol. 2 “gangsta rap at its most richly provocative.” When Clipse sold out New York’s indie music hall Knitting Factory in March, bloggers, The Village Voice and Slate marveled at how concertgoers knew all the words to songs that never appeared on albums on music-store shelves.
Jive paid attention, putting the duo back on track to produce their new album, “Hell Hath No Fury.”
“We were the underdogs,” Pusha says, “and we won.”
Pusha stands in front of a control panel nearly 6 feet long, full of knobs, levers and buttons. He bounces and dances a two-step while mouthing the words to every song - even his brother’s - on their new CD. This stop at a New York studio is just one of many the duo will pack into a week of promotional activities.
“Most rap albums,” Pusha explains, bopping, “once you cut out the filler, you have six out of 18.” He’s eager to know the opinions of the guests, including the guy who’s writing their bio for their press kit. Feedback is unanimous - everyone’s impressed, particularly with strong cuts like “Chinese New Year,” “Nightmares,” featuring the singer Bilal, and “Wamp Wamp.” All the songs, though, seem to share a common thread: rage.
“Thinking back,” Pusha says, “all the happy-go-lucky records are gone. It’s more fitting now than it was then. We’ve been through the fire.”
One reason the mixtapes garnered attention is that they came steeped in references to drug culture. Chunks of white powder adorn the cover of the second mixtape. “Black hands, white keys / I’ve seen this, I’m Ray / Got more white in the hood than the KKK,” Pusha raps on “I’m a Hustla.”
“Clipse’s content is the same as many of the hardest rappers out there,” says allhiphop’s Paine, “but I enjoy double entendre, smart lyricism and clever rhymes. They’ve pushed the genre with timing, and they’re witty about it.”
Clipse’s heavy coke quotient hasn’t gone unnoticed: Critics, including their own fans who debate in Web boards, often raise questions about their drug life imagery, vivid as a scene from “Scarface.”
It’s just entertainment, Malice says, “just like when you’re looking at a movie. It is a way of life for a lot of people, and we don’t glorify that. The pictures we paint show you shouldn’t want to get into this lifestyle.”
“We never claimed to be ‘conscious’ rappers,” Pusha says, “though I think we are. I think we talk about real street life period. It’s no different from watching ‘Cops’ or a documentary on HBO.”
The rappers construct raw, gritty and sometimes violent portraits, which is why Malice’s action as they exit Jive’s offices seems out of character. He spots a guy toting a fluffy white dog and moves over to stroke the cute pooch.
“I have two shiatsus and two French Maltese,” he says.
That’s the thing. While neither of the brothers - Malice especially - gives the impression that they suffer fools, they are, even at their most annoyed, only less than accommodating. As witnessed, they are pleasant to a diverse swath of people they meet on the promotional tour. When they see a female Jive staffer, they dole out hugs.
“We’re really personable,” says Pusha.
They seem happy, too, on this May day. “It’s good to be working again,” Malice says, as they cruise through Manhattan in the back seat of a spacious Benz. “We’ve got to get this music out to all these fans, to all the people that have been waiting for it. They miss us a lot. We had them on hold, but it’s over, and we’re about to give them this album.”
That’s what they thought in May, before the release of “Hell Hath No Fury” would prove, well, hellish.
Clipse leaked their premiere single, “Mr. Me Too,” after a fresh dispute with Jive over which song to release first.
Then the duo scrapped and replaced some songs.
Then the gig at Ocean Breeze went sour.
Then raptress Foxy Brown, who gave Clipse the beat to “Wamp Wamp,” once she thought she’d lost her hearing, announced in July she could hear, and she demanded her beat back.
“The reason why we keep driving like we do is that we still have a genuine love for hip-hop,” Pusha says. “This is our story. 50 Cent got shot. Kanye West got into an accident. The Clipse went through hell.”
Steve Barkan brags about his young staff — all in their 20s and 30s, and closely in tune with their young customers.
NEW YORK (AP) — “Float like a butterfly/ Sting like a bee/ Your hands can’t hit/ What your eyes can’t see.”
