Smino’s Family Bonds Run Deep

From the outside, there’s no perceivable rhyme or reason to the pathways of greased fingers kneading a thirsty, wanting scalp. The goal, it’s said, is to moisturize the entirety of the Black dome from follicle’s tip down to the root, to provide pleasant comfort to oneself or another through grooming, and to, of course, look fly as fuck. This is a generational practice of stewardship, a small daily dose of self-determination that can be both personal and shared. One that helped us to stay alive and look absolutely gorgeous doing so.

The St. Louis musician Smino has, over the last decade, graced his album covers with lush portraits of Black people taking care of themselves through their hair. On 2017’s blkswn, a pair of tattooed hands are in the process of bantu-knotting the 32-year-old artist’s growing flow. A year later, NOIR shows him receiving what looks to be straight back cornrows between the legs of his braider while pointing a TV remote in the viewer’s direction. On his latest, Luv 4 Rent, a perched mirror is audience to Smino and a bevy of bruhs cooly hunched over, squeezing their fros into its reflection. No pushing, no drama — just keepin’ their shit prim and proper. Each album sorta conveyed that this is just what Smi does. You wanna find him outside the studio? Seek out the fingers he’s trusted to get his scalp right.

That stewardship of self both in hair and skin is rooted in the very same familial bonds grounding his musical acumen. Speaking with him last week, ahead of Luv 4 Rent’s release, it’s clear Smino moves and thinks generationally, and is undoubtedly informed by the Black musical stylings — gospel, blues, R&B — of the people he comes from. “I still don’t know where the fuck my family is from,” he responds when asked about the importance of ancestry, “but I know what we’re about, so that means the world to me.” What they’re about, largely, is music and the collective joy that comes from performing it.

Luv 4 Rent is Smino’s most well-balanced album, where an adequate amount of rappin-ass wit dovetails with an ever-expanding vocality. Can he sing-song-slur a word better than most rappers you know? Absolutely. Can his voice peak without cracking and chew up syllables like the ripest tobacco leaf? You bet your ass. But any hard and fast definition of who or what Smino is doing on a record isn’t worth too much to him. Neither are the conversations about R&B’s apparent death. To him, it’s “more of a rebirth vibe.”

So when you were super-young, your grandmother gave you some bongos to play. Was that the start of the journey for you?
She made my daddy buy me some bongos. It was like the first time I ever performed in front of people. Like in elementary school, first-grade-type shit. They had a li’l talent show. My whole family knew I always wanted to play drums. I could play the drum set a little bit, but I wasn’t that good. And my grandma made my daddy buy me some fucking bongos, and he did, obviously, ’cus that’s his momma. And then we did the little thing. They was in that bitch screaming, “Go, Chris,” and shit.

Did drumming influence your cadences or flows at all?
A hundred percent. I look at everything about how I play the high hat on drums. That’s how I flow sometimes. But like, it could be anything really. It’s just rhythms in general, feel me? That shit just kind of make your body do stuff, so I be tryna flow in a way that make somebody move different than they used to. It might make you uncomfortable — even on the first time you heard, you might not even like it, but then you’ll hear it somewhere and be like, Damn, what the fuck …? 

What’s your writing process like? Are you writing shit down? Is it improvisational? 
Shit, I mean, I don’t know. Lately I’ve been writing out my raps in my Few Good Things journal that Saba dropped [Laughs]. But nah it just depend on the day. Sometimes I don’t need to write it down. Sometimes I need to actually see my thoughts in front of me. Sometimes something might have just happened. Like that’s how I wrote “90 Proof.” I was going through some shit and literally made a song in like 10, 15 minutes about it. Sometimes it’s simple, sometimes it’s complex as fuck. Sometimes I’ll write a song and finish it a year later. Just depends, bro. I don’t have a set way to do things. I be just throwing paint most of the time.

So “90 Proof.” Obviously we got the J. Cole verse on there. Did that originate at the Dreamville Camp? How’d that come about?
I’m cool with JID. But I wasn’t gonna go to the Dreamville thing at first because I just really don’t be where I don’t know people. I knew of Earthgang but never spent too much time with them or anybody else. But, like, some how some way, the universe wanted [JID and I] to be friends. ‘Cus all our albums was always around each other. We around the same age. Like, that nigga a Scorpio, I’m a Libra. We was always next door. And when I actually did go, my brother Monte Booker went, my engineer went. So we kind of just took over a room and Saba was in that shit with us. The first day we was there, the first thing we did was make “Sacrifices.” Like, as soon as we walked in that bitch. And then we made “1993.” JID made “Down Bad” in his room right across from mine.

Was that the first time you had ever been at something like that? Like a rapper retreat. 
It’s the first time anybody ever been in some shit like that. Niggas don’t be doing shit like that. Not that many rappers. There’ll be some lock-ins. I had like muhfuckas coming through and shit, like, “Nigga, hey, how you doing? Nice to meet you. Alright, let’s make that shit”

There’s a conversation going on right now that R&B is somehow dead, that male crooners are dropping off. What are your thoughts on that? Do you even place yourself within the R&B genre?
Hell nah. I’m genre non-conforming gang [Laughs]. I don’t know what the fuck I am, bro. I’m a musician. Musician might play salsa music. He might play rock music. I’m a drummer. So I treat rap like a drummer. I could do any style of music if I want to. I don’t feel like I’m limited. I don’t make music for playlists. I never made music for radio. So now we doing whatever the fuck we wanna do. ‘Cus it’s like, shit, what else we gon do? We gotta let niggas do they own thing with it. But R&B ain’t dead. They gotta stop saying that bullshit. It’s actually like it’s a rebirth vibe.

Hmm, say more
You gotta tear shit down to build shit up. It’s like low-key kind of the new way that shit sounds. I just think R&B artists know how to rap a little more nowadays. So they say shit that ain’t just about one topic.

I wanted to talk to you about  “I Deserve,” which you dropped over the pandemic.  I’ve been listening to your records since 2016, and this felt like one of those songs where you was saying some real shit in terms of grieving. You don’t hit that tone too often. 
I don’t be tryna be sad on wax. I try not to make sad music too often. But if I’m sad, it would come out. I got hella sad songs, I just don’t put ‘em out that much, but I had to get over that. I read that once you write something down and put it out, that shit don’t belong to you no more. And then you don’t gotta hold them feelings.  Imagine not releasing music for four years. I was stuck with all ‘em feelings and that song I’m like, yo, this gotta come out.

Did you feel like that way about Luv 4 Rent?
Hell yeah, but they pushed it back ‘cus… you know, I fuck with Motown. Ethiopia [Habtemariam, Motown’s CEO] pulled up on me personally. She was like Smi, trust me, I got you. And I pushed my shit back and it gave me a lot more time to do my rollout and they was very supportive of me. Muhfuckas wasn’t tryna stop me in no way. And they was just trying to push me so I was fucking with it. I had to be like, fuck it. Trust the process. I’m not used to having people in my shit. I was signed to Interscope before, and they didn’t give a fuck what I did. I turned my shit in, you feel me? But it’s still that way. It’s still like, I got that trust. But it was cool to just try something and give myself the rollout I deserve.

Does it feel like an indie groove at Motown?
I’m an independent thinker when it comes to my art for sure, but I am most definitely signed [Laughs]. I mean, I do good business. I ain’t do no weird ass deal. I ain’t stuck in no weird shit. I still own all my shit, all my masters.

Was your family ever involved in the music industry?
My cousin Drea, she toured with Pharrell and Ye on the Glow in the Dark Tour. My papa was a touring bass player. He still be playing his bass from time to time. My cousin Denzel Curry, he in the rap industry.

Wait, Denzel is your fucking cousin?
I just found out. We had to confirm it. He was in St. Louis. I took him to my mama house — well, his cousin house — so he can meet his family and yeah, we had to get on Facebook and we had both sides on the phone. But yeah bruh, that’s my cousin. So we went bowling.

How did your family feel when you stepped into rap and outside the realms of the church?
No type of way. It ain’t like I talk about killing people and shit. I’m just honest man. I think that’s what people like my family get from it. ‘Cus it’s just real shit.

Back to the album, You have some really dope features on here: Ravyn Lenae, Childish Major. How do you usually make the features happen? 
Ravyn not even a feature, she’s a frequent collaborator. She’s gonna be on every album she wants to be on. I’m gonna call her first. But for features, I don’t force nothing. I only work with people interested in working with me. I’m not like, “Hey man, come on man, you trust me, it’s gonna be hot.” Fuck nah. If I feel I gotta get into character to reach a motherfucker, I’ll never do it. Let everything be genuine and organic. A lot of artists fuck with me though. So the ones that could actually think of something to my wild ass beats made it on the album. Doechii I really wanted to work with. She already fucked with me. I didn’t think she was going to do that shit, but she smashed that shit.

“Pro-Freak” is fucking good, bro.
I sent it to her, she just chilled on it for a while and I thought, Ah, she hate this shit. Then she came back with that verse. And I’m like, Damn, I’m glad you took every second you wanted.

When people talk about your music, they talk about your wordplay in the way you stretch out and contract vowels and make words more elastic. Can you ever pinpoint where that came from?
I’m from St. Louis, bro, so we just slur our words and shit.

It just comes to you?
You know, I be pretty fried so sometimes I might fuck up and keep a mistake and then work off that. It’s like jazz shit.

Do you remember a time where that really happened? 
I got this song called “Pecans” with Terrace Martin. This was years ago and I was playing the drums and I fucked up and he went inside to the booth and he was like,” Nah, don’t fix it I’m finna play to it.” And then he played to it and he moved with the way I fucked up. And I had learned right then and there mistakes are the mystique of this shit.

Do you ever look back at your development at all like that? I know it’s like a very linear way of thinking about it…
Man I hate listening to my other shit ‘cus I be like, damn, why was I rapping so hard? Like my papa said some shit to me after one of my shows. I thought I killed it. He was like, you did good but you know, you got a mic, you don’t gotta scream. And I was just like, damn, bro. But yeah even on this album or just in general, I been learning how to control my tone. I’ve been going further into being an artist that sings, not a singer but an artist that sings.

I’m fascinated by the end of the new album cause it really felt like you were moving towards more family stuff. What’s the importance of ancestry to you?
Know-where-you-been-to-know-where-you-going type vibes. I still don’t know where the fuck my family’s from, but I know what we’re about, so that mean the world to me. Everybody that ever played a part in inspiring me, it started from my family ‘cus we be pushing the kids in our family. Like right now my nephew, 10 touchdowns in his first season playing JV and he a freshman, starting quarterback. You think I ain’t finna send that nigga hella cleats, you know what I’m saying? That’s just how we get down. We were raised like that.

The last song [on the album] called “Lee & Lovie” and that’s my grandma and my papa, you feel me? And I’m saying let’s get old like Lee and Lovie. I felt like I learned how to love from loving my family. I got a lot of love in myself. In the situation where it’s Luv 4 Rent, like, I be in a situation where I’m real present with motherfuckers and shit and they’ll just feel like I’m acting as if I’m in love with them or something. But I’m a very present person. I’m tender and shit. Like this is how I am. I treat everybody like this. Everybody get love. I’m not like a fake ass nigga. If I fuck with you, I’mma fuck with you.

Fame don’t seem like the goal for you.
Hell nah, I ain’t never been there. I don’t give a fuck about none of that shit. But it’s just happening. So it’s what it is. So it’s like if you don’t want something and you get it, it’s a blessing. I must be supposed to do something with it. Tryna use my influence for more than just making people make music different. I want people to make different decisions. But that just gotta come with unpacking a nigga, you feel me? Right now niggas just gonna get this raw-ass album, these raw-ass outfits, these twist outs and shit like that.

Your hair has gotten a lot of well-deserved publicity. But do you have a skincare regimen? Cause I’ve been talking to my people and it’s like, okay, I know we can get the hair shit right, but what’s the skincare regimen right now?
Shit, cold water and a towel.

[Laughs] Oh, it’s likes simple like that?
Low-stress environment. I got passed down this shit from my mother. My hair and my face and shit. Apparently I’m handsome. I just learned this shit in like 2018 [Laughs], I thought I was ugly my whole life bro. I’m like bet, say less.

This interview has been edited and condensed.