Jason Parham: Where do you start when producing a song?ĭJ Quik: Where does the Bible begin? I’m not trying to be smart and weird - I start at the beginning. Thirty years on, the wizard of perennial West Coast funk has remained at the center of it all. He is the architect of a specific, and deeply proud, local sensibility. Because after more than a lifetime’s worth of accolades, what lasts, what ultimately refuses to fade, is a sound that Quik has made entirely his own. He is the kind of genius who influences generations, the kind who doesn’t simply make history but propels it forward. Quik has, to my ears, always operated like an orchestrator more than anything, akin to Quincy Jones or Duke Ellington. Goliath” - but for now, he is content in this new period of his life, which is all about taking a back seat to produce for other artists. At some point, he says, he plans to release new music - and possibly an album, which he already has a title for, “David vs. Recently, Quik spent time in the studio with Mustard and Vince Staples for upcoming projects. His made-for-mythologizing catalog boasts nine solo albums, two joint projects - his most recent, 2017’s “Rosecrans” with Problem, is a late-career masterpiece - multiple awards and a jealousy-inducing list of production and engineering credits that includes Snoop Dogg, 2Pac, Whitney Houston, Tony! Toni! Tone!, 8Ball & MJG, 50 Cent and Jay-Z. His hood parables have defined eras and attitudes. On songs like “Tonite” and “Dollaz + Sense,” he crafted an extraordinary geometry of sound - outfitting each track with propulsive, lowrider-chic beats, flourishes of funk, the occasional jazz influence and the kind of physically cinematic storytelling you only come across in the barbershop. After a turbulent career that spans more than three decades, Quik is, for the first time in a long time, clear-headed about the future and all that it has in store for him.įrom the very beginning, the Compton quasar supplied L.A. “The reality is, breathing is a flex,” he says. He’s finally in control of it, he tells me, keenly aware of how far he’s come and what it took to get here. He refers to this new life chapter as destiny. Now 52, the artist born David Blake has found the kind of clarity that comes with surviving this long in a game not set up for survival. Though his mother, Delma Armstrong, passed away in 2016, Quik makes a point to celebrate her every year just as she would want: with a party. Especially today - his mother’s birthday. Everyone is at ease, high on the euphoria of the moment. Others amble about, taking in a view of the city that seems to go on forever. Pimp-fresh in a pair of navy blue gators is his longtime collaborator Suga Free. For the uninitiated, this is what’s known as a classic Quik groove: one that finds the veteran rapper-producer surrounded by - but, more importantly, lifted up by - friends, peers and associates. On an unseasonably hot Thursday afternoon in February, a blunt dangling in one hand and a perpetually half-empty cup of Champagne in the other, the permed prince of Compton - who put his home turf on the map with the release of 1991’s platinum-selling debut, “Quik Is the Name” - is holding court on a penthouse rooftop overlooking Beverly Boulevard. Read the full issue here.ĭJ Quik is exactly where he’s supposed to be. This story is part of Image issue 9, “Function” a sonic and visual reminder that there ain’t no party like an L.A.
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