Time disappears in this music. There are no beginnings and no endings, just a mobius strip, an undulating rhythm, many voices in space. A Tribe Called Quest's We got it from Here... Thank You 4 Your service marks several endings, but it itself is endless, just another pulsing speaker in one vast temporal conversation spanning generations. One voice goes like this:
"I always say I'm in a looming fraternity of artists, whether it be Robert DeNiro or whether it be 21 Savage," Q-Tip tells me. "We all have something in common that we are joined to: art." It's really Q-Tip through the phone, speaking softly and listening patiently, even though he could be, like, smoking weed with Busta Rhymes or reading Japanese philosophy or digging through old pressings of analog synth recordings or doing literally anything more rewarding than explaining to a stranger why New York is a great city (as everyone alive will tell you, it's a melting pot, but Q-Tip does tell you this in a way that makes you feel like you are a genius with a global perspective instead of an idiot with a boring question). Q-Tip, The Abstract, is one of those rare figures who is culture, who holds together the fabric of the world, who is at home in any room. He comfortably connects the realms of high art and street vernacular and conceptual thought and pragmatic politics. He speaks with consideration but also quick, humored ease, raising his voice from its contemplative murmur only in moments of spirited enthusiasm, like when he gushes, "I like Young Thug—I love Young Thug."
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