Danny Brown, the rapper, songwriter, podcaster, and occasional actor, is truly a one of one artist. He just released Stardust, his brilliant, mercurial sixth studio album. Brown grew up in Detroit, the oldest of four kids. When his parents had him, his mother was 18 and his father 16. His father’s age shaped his childhood. “My dad played video games, so whatever the newest console was, we had it the day it came out,” he says chuckling. “I might not get a chance to play it for three days because he hogging it, but I really cherished those moments as a kid.”
Because his parents were young, they partied. They would often ship their kids out on the weekend to whoever was available to watch them. “That’s where I was exposed to a lot of bullshit,” he says. “I wanted to be a rapper, so I had to have something to rap about. But I didn’t start getting into trouble till I was 18.” He supported his early rap career by dealing drugs and wound up in jail for eight months in 2007. But Brown is moving away from that world; Stardust is the first album he’s written entirely sober.
On a crisp autumn morning in New York, Brown and I met at his hotel to talk about rapping in kindergarten, writing his new album, staying healthy and sober, and more.
Fit One
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How’d you start rapping?
We got into a bad car accident as kids. Me, my little cousins, my brothers and sisters, we got hit by a garbage truck. I remember waking up, laying in the middle of the street. Thankfully, none of us died. I was gone from kindergarten for like a month. When I got back to school, there was a show-and-tell kind of thing. I just got back, so I didn’t have nothing to show or tell. Everybody had toys or cool shit. I went up there and rapped in front of the class, freestyled some random shit. When I finished, the class stood up and started clapping. After that, any little thing I could be involved in with rapping, I would do it. I rapped at the fifth-grade graduation. Everybody knew, “Danny’s going to rap.”
You’re always experimenting on your albums. It’s hard to pin down your sound. Did you do anything different in the creative process of making Stardust?
Everybody I worked with on it is half my age, so I feel like they’re cooler than me just because of that. Instead of me being like, “This is what we going to do,” I’d ask, “What is the song you want to make?” I would let them drive. They really allowed me to just relax. It’s like in the NBA, when they have a young team. They’re like, “They just need a veteran presence in the locker room.” That’s what I was. You could put me in the last two minutes, I’m going to make the greatest hits. I’m not going to get scared. I got the experience. I know about being clutch in those moments.
Fit Two
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How do you continue to find inspiration to write new music?
I found a new purpose with why I do this. After getting sober, people would hit me up like, “Yo, you got sober. You made me sober up and your music helped me so much.” Something just clicked, like, That’s it. That’s what you do this for. I could be having the worst day in the world and I just hear a song I and I’m like, “Damn, I’m tripping. Everything’s all good. Am I that for people?” I rapped enough trying to be cool or trying to be shocking, but now it’s like, what’s the message? It’s all about legacy now. You look at albums that stand the test of time, like Marvin Gaye’s What’s Going On. That’s like a time capsule for that period. We listen to that and could relate to that shit to this day. I don’t know if I got What’s Going On’s in my discography yet, but that’s what I’m striving for. I want to be inspiring artists way after I’m gone, like I did my part to make the world a better place type shit.
I picked rap in the sense that I found it as a kid, but I don’t know if it’s my purpose in life. Maybe this rap shit is pushing me to be able to fund my real work. I could be building wells in Africa 10 years from now. I want to help people through my music now, but I also feel like it’s a bigger calling for me with it.
Bit of a left turn here, but I read you could have signed to G-Unit, but 50 Cent didn’t fuck with your jeans. That true?
Hell yeah. I lived with Tony Yayo for a year. 50 is a general, so he wanted everybody to fall in line. He bought me some jeans and he was like, “Man, just wear these.” They were horrible—some big-ass jeans. There were gold hundred-dollar bills on the back pocket. I was getting no bitches. But when I was wearing my skinny jeans…
Jeans were different then. It really was a statement to wear your shit tight.
This was 2008, 2009. You know what I’m saying?
Fit Three
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How has your style changed since you first came up to now?
I’m more focused on the future, meaning now I’m shopping for when I’m 60. When I want to get inspired, I go to the grocery store and look at what the old ladies are wearing because they don’t shop. They’ve had these clothes for 20 years. So now they know how to drip it out, and you see the way they match this shit up. It’s all about timeless pieces than something that’s trending. So, a lot more minimal shit. I’m 44 years old. I love wearing cool-ass clothes, but half the time that shit ain’t comfortable. So, I’m tired of that shit. I’ll wear some shit for a shoot or wear some shit on stage, but in my personal life, I’m wearing barefoot shoes. I live in Texas. It’s too hot to be dripped.
When you’re not working on music, what are you doing with your downtime, if you have any?
I got all the downtime in the world. I don’t even think about that music like that. I treat albums like boxing and fights. If you’re a boxer, you do one big fight a year. If you fighting more than three times a year, you got CTE. That’s how I’m making music, because you lose a piece of yourself when you put that much of yourself into being vulnerable, putting your soul into this art, and putting it out into the world and letting it go.
Fit Four
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So, when you’re not fighting, what do you do?
I’m trying to keep in shape. Where I live now [about an hour outside of Austin], 60 percent of people are over 60. I see people when they’re old—60s, and 70s, and 80s—and they always seem a little angry and depressed or mean. But where I’m at, these old people are the happiest motherfuckers I have ever seen in my life. Obviously, they’re a different tax bracket [than the average elderly American]. These motherfuckers are in shape. And that’s what I think it is. So, I thought to myself, “I know why they happy. Because they still fucking.”
It’s got to be pretty white there, right?
It’s all white. There are Charlie Kirk memorials. It is what it is. Don’t get me wrong, I hate that shit, but I hate my car getting broken in to, too. But it’s very communal. I have a personal trainer. In my off time, I’m trying to do whatever I can to make sure I live.
Fit Five
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Can you remember your first significant clothing purchase?
Every kid wants to experience that feeling of getting Jordans when they release and then be able to go to school that day. But I wasn’t able to feel that until ninth grade. My first pair of Jordans I ever had, I bought myself. When I was 14, I lied on a job application, forged my work permit and got hired, was doing my taxes and everything at 15. They were Taxi 12’s. They sold out like crazy, but I found a pair at some random Dunham’s in some fucking hick town somewhere.
Can you give me three non-negotiable albums you think everyone should listen to?
The Streets, A Grand Don’t Come for Free. That’s audio cinema. If anybody likes deep dives of concept albums, that’s the greatest to me. Nas, Illmatic. Prince, Purple Rain.
If you had to wear one outfit for the rest of your life, what would it consist of?
A big-ass hoodie and some big-ass jogging pants, some sandals.
