Pitchfork

Retiring at the age of 28 is a strange move. But even though British MC/producer Wiley is just two years shy of 30, he has already pioneered a genre, founded a scene, weathered the violence of that scene, and watched its members rise, fall, and fail to break through. So his weariness is understandable.

But Wiley's retirement seems to be more along the lines of Jay-Z's. Though he plans to make his new album, Playtime Is Over, his last solo album, he will still produce, record, and run his own Eskibeat Recordings as part of his mission to bring grime to the world.

But first things first: Playtime Is Over comes out June 4 via Big Dada, and Wiley will precede it with the release of the "50/50 / Bow E3" single on May 7.

Pitchfork had the opportunity to speak with Wiley recently about the new album, getting older, and his relationship with Dizzee Rascal and the grime scene in general.

Pitchfork: What's the story behind the title Playtime Is Over?

Wiley: Playtime Is Over is basically saying I feel I'm getting older and can't be a kid forever. I'm sorting out my pension maybe. These next six or seven years will be the time when I have to set myself up for the future, innit? So that's why I just thought, "28 years old, fun time's over." Now I've got to start making sure I've got houses and property and stuff, so that when music's over, I'm not struggling to turn up money.

Pitchfork: Was there a moment when you first realized all of this?

Wiley: Yeah, when I had my first child. And then it took about a year to sink in after that. [laughs]

Pitchfork: What sort of other things are you thinking about getting into?

Wiley: Still music, but I've got guys who are a little younger, like 15, 16, and they're very clever. They're more with-the-times than we were when we were their age. So I'm going to make sure that they get through, and I'm just going to spread the word of grime around the world. I understand that I've done my thing. I've done my years. I just need to spread the vibe now and get it around everywhere else in the world.

Pitchfork: Do you think that grime has a chance to make it big in places where it hasn't yet?

Wiley: Yeah. It's just going to take 20 years is all. It's going to take 10, 15 to 20 years, and I've done the first six or seven.

Pitchfork: What's it like to have awareness of yourself as a founder of grime and of the fact that it's still such a new scene?

Wiley: I realized that even though Grandmaster Flash and those guys, Afrika Bambaataa, they all started it [hip hop], they're not here today. It shows that you can't last forever. It's like being a baseball player: You were the homerun hitter. Then you don't play no more, but you watch baseball. You're always going to have that drive to play inside you. And that's why some days you've got to just know it's better to step back and look at the future.

Pitchfork: Do you think this is a normal creative life cycle? Do you expect other Eskibeat artists to have the same feelings you do at 28?

Wiley: No, I don't. See, this is what it is: I will let them know that if you haven't reached a certain height in life by the time you're 30, you might not never. If you haven't achieved, or you haven't had no education, and you've just pissed around all the way 'til you were 30, then you might not have a future. You've got to be careful.

Pitchfork: Why 30?

Wiley: Because if you haven't achieved by 30, what would you do? Use any kind of sportsman, or any kind of musician-- not musician, because you can come through any age really, but not really spitting. What happens is the young guns, they push you out anyway, in the end. How are they trying to push out Jay-Z? Obviously they can't push him out. He's the king, innit? But he might not be anymore. And there's other kids coming through, and it's not like they're rubbish. Some of them are good. Papoose is actually good.

Pitchfork: So you think people become obsolete as artists at a certain point?

Wiley: Yeah, because you know what it is? You do it, you earn money, and obviously, in Jay-Z's case, you've got lots of money. He's having a nice time. And you can't have everything forever. Obviously you'll be able to rap forever-- let's not say "can't rap"-- but music is a thing [with] a time period, innit? And then [you've] earned millions and billions, so you can't really moan. I just believe that once you get to a certain age, maybe your message becomes different.

And then the youth, they don't really listen to elders. When I was growing up, I didn't actually respect my elders as such. I respected my grandparents and stuff, but I didn't respect my elders. I was always trying to overcome people older than me. And that is what happens. That is why Cam'ron will go for Jay-Z, or whatever. He's not even young, but he's in there. And I heard him saying, "Jay-Z's 38 and 40," and I'm thinking, "Oh my god, that's quite old." Like, where is he going to go from there? Is he still going to be 45 doing it?

Pitchfork: But then again, the Rolling Stones still tour. That's not to say they're still in top form, but do you think there's a way to change the relationship young people have to elder musicians?

Wiley: Maybe, but I don't know. I look at it like sports, and obviously Jesse Owens cannot run as fast as today's people, can he? All good things do come to an end. Obviously you can carry on and have another good thing. I enjoy music; I just won't do it forever. I know it now. I might carry on writing, but I don't want to be a 40-year-old or a 50-year-old rapper.

Pitchfork: But what if you were a 40-or-50-year-old rapper and were still amazing? That could be really great.

Wiley: Yeah, well, it could happen. I just feel like-- I was in it from [when I was] a kid, and I always enjoyed the childhood of it. I think when you get older, is it still fun anymore? You can work and work and work for the whole of your life, but I don't actually want to work for the whole of my life. I want to work for a period of time and then make my job easier as I get older.

Pitchfork: Do you still keep in touch with Dizzee?

Wiley: No, I haven't spoken to him recently.

Pitchfork: When was the last time you talked to him?

Wiley: Ages ago. He's on his third album, so he's done a lot of traveling and spreading the word of grime. So really, he don't have time to see anyone.

Pitchfork: You mentored him a little bit in his early days, right?

Wiley: Yeah, but I obviously was mentored and learned from someone and done exactly the same for him. So I don't look at it like I helped him and he's gone and done "da-da-da." We've got to a certain height. We're both in the [music] world.

Pitchfork: What's the angle you take in the "Letter 2 Dizzee" song on your new album?

Wiley: It's just talking to him, really. I'm not angry. And then, I heard he's got some tune called "Pussy" ["Pussy'ole" --Ed.] that he's trying to aim at me. Then I've got a reply to that. If someone tries to pull a fast one, I'll get on it as soon as I can, but I am a cool person as well. So obviously I've spoken to him in one [tune], and then he tried to pull a fast one, and then I got him back in another tune. But words don't mean nothing. It's just emotion.

Pitchfork: Does it get confusing going back and forth?

Wiley: Yeah, it becomes a big contradiction in the end, doesn't it?

Pitchfork: How did you know that song was directed at you?

Wiley: 'Cause I can hear what he's saying, what he's trying to mean. But that is the last thing he should be calling me, because of what I've been through with him, do you understand? Obviously, I understand it's a ploy to make his albums sell. Whatever. He's not even good anymore, I don't think. He's lost it. He sounds like he's been in Houston for ages. He's lost his thing. He spits different now. It's not even that he shouldn't change his style, but he's just lost it. I know, because I'm the one who taught him. Not even taught him, but I'm the first person who understood how good he was, which lets me know how good he is today.

Pitchfork: What has he lost?

Wiley: He flows different. I don't know, maybe he doesn't beef enough. He's just lost something that he had, an element. I don't understand what it really is, but he's lost something.

Pitchfork: What does the future of grime look like?

Wiley: It's very bright. Because we're all powerful speakers of the world. Soon you will see the power of our English language. You speak it, we speak it, whoever speaks it. The English language is very powerful. If our language is accepted, is known all around the world in all these different countries, then it means that if 10 of us try and hit the world, all around the world with our language, and only five of us succeed, it's still a good thing. And there's more than 10 who are very clever with the English language and putting words together and speaking about their life.

Pitchfork: Do you think it has a chance to dominate the charts like American hip hop has?

Wiley: Yeah, easily. I realized that some producers ain't necessarily better. Not that I don't respect them, because I do, but I believe in myself too much to let someone else from somewhere else dominate the world. I believe in myself way too much. I think I can dominate the world, just like one of them can.

Pitchfork: Musically, what do you think draws people to grime?

Wiley: I'm not sure, maybe because there's elements of all other music that's been around before. I think it's a very raw sound, and I believe in it. I believe in it because I was involved in the creation of it, so I'll always believe in it, whether I'm doing it or not. I've just got to make sure that I fly around the world and spread the word of it. Like Jesus.

Pitchfork: So you think of yourself as the Jesus of grime?

Wiley: No, no, no, I'm not going to say that. But I have to spread the word and get more people around the world on it and into it. When I meet people, they understand, and they feel the energy.

Pitchfork: When you're producing, what do you look for in sounds or samples?

Wiley: [I] just try to use unusual ones, ones that people haven't heard before, that many people wouldn't use.

Pitchfork: No matter what it sounds like? There's no unifying aesthetic?

Wiley: No. It could be a synth. It could be landscape sounds. It could be anything. I always just try and make it not sound like nothing [else].

Pitchfork: So the newness is the most important thing?

Wiley: Yeah, definitely. Or sometimes, if you build a formula, then you can make loads of tunes with that same formula. I've got loads of formulas by now.

Pitchfork: A lot of people would say that having a formula is a bad thing. You think a formula can work for you?

Wiley: Of course, because I've got loads of formulas. "Eskimo" is one formula, so I can make loads of tunes with that style of sound. I've got loads of different formulas, so many that I could do Nelly Furtado's album. I could do anyone's album in the world. I know it now.

Pitchfork: Is there anyone whose album you'd like to produce?

Wiley: Yeah, I think I'd like to do singers. Maybe Cherish, them little girls from the Dirty South. People like that. Ciara. Ryan Leslie. Omarion.

Pitchfork: So a lot of the r&b singers?

Wiley: Yeah, because Timbaland, [when] his sound had singing on it is when it really started to get accepted. Hard spitting wouldn't have been accepted [that] quick. He was very clever, him and Missy and the whole path he traveled. It was soulful as well as dark beats.

Pitchfork: What is it about singing that makes it more agreeable? Do you think a singer can resonate with people in a way that an MC can't?

Wiley: Yeah, 'cause they're touching people. If you hear a woman singing, she touches notes, and she touches you. Singing can mean a lot. I don't know what it is. Any spoken poetry can be powerful. Maybe it's because they're using their lungs and their voices.

Pitchfork: I've heard people say that MCs have a harder time expressing or evoking a full range of emotions. Do you think that's true?

Wiley: Yeah, in some areas. Some people have mastered charisma and enthusiasm, but yeah.

Pitchfork: You've spoken before about how frustrating the violence in the grime scene can be. Do you think there's something about the music itself that attracts violent people?

Wiley: Yeah, because I can make music when I'm angry, and bad energy goes into the tune. And then it goes into their ears, and it's bad energy. Then I can make a tune that's good energy, and it goes into their ears as good energy. And then there's good energy for them. Music is spiritual, and it goes into them. If I was angry at the time I made a tune, when the rest of the generation hears it, they're going to like it because of the anger that's in the tune.

Pitchfork: Is it harder to make tunes with good energy?

Wiley: Not necessarily. Sometimes you make tunes just for the sake of making tunes. But then, a bad emotion could make a powerful tune. A good emotion could make a powerful tune. Any emotions can make powerful tunes.

Playtime Is Over tracklist:

01 50/50
02 Bow E3
03 Slippin'
04 Flyboy
05 Baby Girl
06 Gangsters
07 Stars
08 Letter 2 Dizzee
09 No Qualms
10 Johnny Was a Bad Boy
11 Nothing About Me
12 Come Lay With Me
13 Getalong Gang
14 Eski-Boy
15 Playtime's Over