by SLAVA KUPERSTEIN
posted November 21, 2012 at 9:02AM EST | 45 comments

Exclusive: Pharoahe Monch recalls running in the same circles as Eminem, talks Hurricane Sandy, and explains why "P.T.S.D." is his "first art piece."

Pharoahe Monch has emerged—not unscathed—from an era where many (most) of his peers were left behind. After three outstanding albums as one-half of Organized Konfusion, Monch went for dolo and released one of the finest debuts in Hip Hop history, 1999’s Internal Affairs. Plagued by record label woes, it wasn’t until 2007 that Monch was able to drop his phenomenal follow-up, Desire. Fans endured another excruciating wait until Pharoahe independently dropped 2011’s W.A.R. Bucking trends, the winter 2012 season brings with it Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, W.A.R.’s sequel.

The Hip Hop veteran, who’s capable of a lightning-fast, tongue-twisting delivery, speaking slowly and deliberately, spoke to HipHopDX recently to discuss his thoughts on his latest project, and some of the experiences that have informed them. The man who might be Hip Hop’s very best technician, and is certainly one of its keenest observers, places immense thought before the words said, and wastes none. If the stress is getting to Pharoahe Monch, he isn’t showing it.

Pharoahe Monch Reacts To The Damage & Impact Of Super Storm Sandy
HipHopDX: You once wrote the words, “Switch my demeanor / Flip, assemble my own team to / Say ‘fu-k FEMA’ in case there’s another Katrina.” Unfortunately, those words are pretty relevant just days after Hurricane Sandy. What’s the scene up there in New York?

Pharoahe Monch: It’s pretty crazy, man. It’s just like [Hurricane] Katrina. For me, it’s really testing your compassion for the people who are going through troubling times, especially when it’s close. I was stuck in Dallas, so I wasn’t here during the hurricane, but my mom lives in New York; I had family in New York at the time. So everybody was fine, and the power was good, and the heat and everything was fine.

But still—I talk about this a lot—being an empath, a big empath, I really felt away and down and depressed and sad about a lot of other people’s situations and have been reaching out to people, and doing certain things that I can in terms of helping in different ways. You know, it’s interesting in that you find comfort in a lot of things that you take for granted until you don’t have them anymore or are disabled—and then what?

That line was about preparing because I don’t think people were very compassionate after that situation. You hope to try to prepare, just like people tried to do before this, by leaving, or gassing up, or whatever. It’s weird because in some areas you go, and it’s like nothing ever happened, and then other areas you can see the devastation. Not only in the buildings, but in the faces of people. I can’t just look the other way. I have compassion for that.

DX: Do you feel that the national compassion is any greater than it was with Katrina? Because obviously New York gets a lot more attention than a lot of other places, but I’m hearing things like, for example, Stated Island being completely forgotten.

Pharoahe Monch: Yeah. It brings again another realization of how easily that can happen. When it comes to humans that’s going through protocol, and being like, “Alright, this is the situation, and what’s happening now? Kids are hungry? Where are they hungry? This is what we gotta do, and this is why we gotta do it immediately, and now.” And there’s a waiting process, and so on and so forth. We’re so accustomed to the liberties that we have until you’re faced with—you don’t know. My manager’s still without power now, and I was trying to [work] through it, but now it’s affecting my ability to perform a job because I have to be aware of pop culture, and I don’t have internet, and I don’t have TV, and I don’t have electricity.

I say all this, and I imagine situations in Haiti and in the Philippines, and other situations. They don’t even have the turnaround where they can be like, “Okay, you guys don’t have gas for a few days, but we’re sending gas.” And a lot of those situations are like, “There’s nothing, and we can tell you when there’ll be something. Whatever.” Even in this situation, I’m thankful that it’s New York, and there’s a lot of ways we can be resourceful here, as opposed to a lot of other places.

At the same time, while the internet makes us connected and we know information and feel we can Skype with someone, there is a disconnect in the way the country is in general with states and different [places] in general. While I was in Dallas, I’m guilty of my friends telling me, “Yo, stay there if you can, because there’s no gas, no power, no heat, it’s cold.” What would you rush back for? And while I’m there, I’m at a bar having beers. “It’s kinda cool, it’s eighty degrees today!” I’m still calling concerned, but you’re disconnected.

Pharoahe Monch Recalls Ghostwriting For Diddy On Press Play
DX: Not to harp on that line, which you wrote for Diddy, but I was always curious about something: there’s always been some criticism that your style shone through so much on “The Future,” but I always thought that it was impressive, because Diddy’s not known for being a technical guy. Were you personally in the studio, coaching him on delivery, inflection?

Pharoahe Monch: There’s a great, great story behind that. I was recording Desire at the time, and had landed a publishing deal which provided me with some financial comfort. I was also touring very steadily on my own and with Mos [Def] and [Talib] Kweli during that era, coming off of the Rawkus [Records] stuff. I had hired Showtyme and Mela [Machinko], who I work with very closely now, and we were like performing a lot of songs from Desire before they were out, and the fans were loving it.

I was feeling great in my career. And so, the opportunity came from the publishing company: “Yo, [Diddy] is interested in you writing for his project.” Being the crackpot that I am, I saw it as a case study: an opportunity to see what it would be like to be in the studio working on a project—possibly a three million dollar project, a learning opportunity and a challenge.

He was the first one to talk about how people talk about him. He keeps his ear to the street and pop culture, or he wouldn’t be relevant like that. You would think he’s not aware of… Pharoahe Monch or who any of those people are, but that’s how he found one of the greatest artists ever [in The Notorious B.I.G.]. And so, I had kicked it with him before in the past, knew that he was savvy, heard the rumors. But he broke the ice with cracking on himself about “I know what people say about me! I can’t rap for sh-t, ‘I’ll fu-k with his jeans, but I don’t fu-k with [his music],’” blah blah blah, and I thought that was funny.

But he said, “I don’t want you to do a version of me. I want you to do a version of you.” He started playing me music, and it was like Havoc tracks, Mr. Porter, Alchemist. I’m like, “Damn! What are you doing? This is crazy, this is sh-t that I would choose!” And so, he was explaining to me, and he was at a show one time, and he just felt the energy coming off the stage, and the crowd, and he wanted me to put a little bit of that flavor on the record.

I had never ghostwritten before. I worked a little bit with Prince [Po] back in the days of Organized Konfusion for a couple of projects. I can’t claim to have written a whole bunch of stuff. That was my first time really doing it at that level. And so, the key thing he sold me on was, “I’ma listen to you, you coach me through whatever whatever, and do you.” So I go down to Miami to write and record these songs, “Hold Up” and “The Future.” I’m layin’ them down, and it’s like “Oh, this sh-t is crazy!” We sign off on it, we shake hands on it, and it’s great. I was very, very, adamant about my album. I’m down here for business—he loves my work ethic—and I want to finish so I could get back to New York and finish this Desire album, which he heard and was in love with as well, but that’s another story. So I was all about my business, and he had a great appreciation for that.

I went to Detroit to record with Mr. Porter, and they sent me the finished song, and I wasn’t quite happy. We talked about how I thought it should’ve been a little looser and a little more matter-of-factly, and he felt it should be as…kind of rigid. That was an interesting conversation. So yeah, [Press Play] came out, and I received like a hundred phone calls like, “Well, we know who wrote this song!”

I’m pretty proud of that, actually, because what I learned from him—I took on the project to learn something—what I learned from him is that dude has a component like a good coach, to pull something out of artists that they don’t think they have. And even in that process, it was like, “I think this could be this, or I think this could be that,” and me being Pharoahe, I’m like, “Are you kidding me? Do you know who I am?” [Laughs] “Do you hear the way that’s rolling off my tongue?” But then I dug deeper, and wrote pieces over, and what I took from that is when I went back to work on my own stuff, I was like, “Yo, don’t get beside yourself, you can be more meticulous and pull deeper, even before you let people hear it. Try to reach a little further.” It’s an interesting tool to have and to be able to do with yourself before you even let your peers hear it and it gets critiqued. I’m constantly, “Does this line really deliver what I intended it to deliver? Are there other ways you can bring this across with more passion and honesty?”

DX: It’s funny that your reaction was exactly like mine was just now, when I envisioned you and Diddy debating over technical delivery, any thinking that’s one of the most ridiculous things I’ve ever heard. So I can only imagine how you felt.

Pharoahe Monch: Yeah, they sent me the song and we played it on the big speakers in Detroit, and everybody looked at me like, “Uhhhh…” I was like, “Alright, I gotta call him.” He said I could call him: “Don’t be afraid, don’t be afraid. If there’s anything that you needed to tell me, then tell me.”

So I’m like, “Gimme 10 minutes, so I’ma call him.” And it’s like, “Pharoahe on line three!” [Laughs] “Who is this?” “It’s Pharoahe for Diddy.” “Alright, hold, hold, hold…” “Hello?” “Hey, it’s Pharoahe, I’m holding for Puff.” You know, like four different people. Finally, I’m like, “Hey man,” and he’s like “Hey, whaddup?” I’m like, “Hey, I’m in Detroit. I heard the song, and I just feel like, maybe, you might wanna…” [Laughs]

DX: That’s an amazing Hip Hop moment. Is there an emcee out there with a delivery who you’d be interested in writing something for them just to see how far you could take their technique—purely as an academic exercise?

Pharoahe Monch: It’s difficult for me to get in that space because I’m such a fan of Hip Hop. I’m such a fan of Hip Hop that I enjoy my stuff like I’m not even me. This is not to…to sound like that, but I remove myself from the process and business of it. I go to shows, and some of the shows, I’m able to stand in the crowd, other shows, it’s just impossible because people are like, “what the fu-k?” But I really love to enjoy Hip Hop that way. If you move me, I want to go to the second level of seeing you do what you moved me with… There are situations where I listen to music and I’m like, if it were under my tutelage…