A Prince Among Men

“Prince Paul” Huston is a legendary figure in rap music. In fact, he’s somewhat of an icon, and like most icons, he’s relegated to the realm of the working legendary — meaning that, while the foundations of hip-hop bear his indelible stamp, Paul continues to put in work for a living. It’s not that he minds the work; all artists worth their salt see their art as expression more than work, and in Paul’s case, music is something he’s done since adolescence. It has been his passion and his hobby, something he’s done for the love ever since the day he started. Such is the artistic mindset that makes icons.
Prince Paul first popped up on the national rap music radar — even before there really was such a thing — as the DJ for the influential Stetsasonic. The Brooklyn-born group released three albums on Tommy Boy Records and then disbanded in 1991. At that point, Paul had already moved on to huge, if not accidental commercial success as the man behind the music on De La Soul’s seminal debut Three Feet High and Rising, and he kept working with the three-man Long Island crew until the release of Buhloone Mind State (Tommy Boy) in 1993.
Throughout the 1980s and ‘90s, Prince Paul lent his talents to the work of artists like 3rd Bass, Big Daddy Kane and KRS One’s Boogie Down Productions, and worked with fellow producer Dan the Automator under the collective moniker Handsome Boy Modeling School for an album titled So…How’s Your Girl? that was released on Tommy Boy in 1999 to massive critical acclaim. His solo career has always presented the work of an eclectic musical mind, from the eerily funky Psychoanalysis: What Is It? to the theatrical concept album Prince Among Thieves, both of which were amazing and largely slept on.
His most recent solo effort, Politics of the Business, on Razor & Tie Records, though dope in its own right, has also suffered from a lack of exposure. Despite the fact that Paul is down by law in hip-hop circles, he has always refused to make music that conforms to anything other than what he wants it to be, which, though it builds his iconographic standing in the hip-hop history books, doesn’t do much for him in the way of building his bank account. But, as Paul was quick to remind during a telephone Q&A session in November 2003, that’s not what it’s all about.

What are you working on these days?
The new thing right now is a new Handsome Boy album. Me and Dan are about a third of the way there, all we gotta do is record the vocals. So there’s a new Handsome Boy coming out next year on Elektra, and I guess when Chris Rock gets off tour — ‘cause he’s been on the road doing new stand-up — we’re going to do a new Chris Rock album. Plus, I’m doing another Prince Paul record, which I’m actually pretty passionate about. I hate to say this, but I think it might be the best Price Paul record I’ve done thus far. That’s me not really liking my other records. But I’m pretty passionate about this record, I think it’s really good.

When you say that you don’t like your other records, are you talking about any of them specifically?
No, but you know, I have yet to make my best record. A lot of cats are like, “Oh my new record blah blah blah my best,” but you know, when I listen back, I think my favorite of my records was the Gravediggaz Six Feet Deep ‘cause it just represented a lot of anger I was going through at the time. A lot of people might say that Three Feet High and Rising coined me as a producer, as far as my style, but still think that I have yet to make my best record, you know what I’m saying? I mean, all my records are cool, I just haven’t done my best one yet.

And is that one going to be for Razor & Tie, too?
Um, yeah…if they don’t drop me. I always say that, though, man.

Why, because you never know in this business?
Oh man, it’s crazy! I know how this business is these days. It’s loco! That’s why, in addition to doing this, I’ve been offered to develop some cartoon specials for networks and stuff, which is nice ‘cause I can write. I think I might get a little more into it, even though it’s not my big passion. I’m okay at it, but the music industry is just so scary nowadays.

I read your memoirs that were published in 2002 in the magazine Wax Poetics, and from what you wrote, it seems like things in the music business were shiesty back then, but not so ruthless and even a little more upfront.
You know what it was back then? It was that at least everything still seemed promising because everything was still growing, and it had the potential to grow. Now it seems like it’s outgrown itself — like, where does it go now? Does it go up or down? It seems like it’s peaked.

Was that one of the themes of Politics of the Business?
Politics of the Business is just a parody of all the bad stuff that I’ve been hearing — all the fast food music. And it was me kind of feuding with Tommy Boy at the time, too. They were like, “Oh your last record didn’t sell because you didn’t have no singles, and you need to do this and that.” But I don’t make those kinds of records, so Politics of the Business was supposed to be in rebellion against them. It was supposed to come out on Tommy Boy, but they folded before I was able put it out, so I guess the joke was on me.

So Politics of the Business was an “up-yours” to Tommy Boy?
It wasn’t really an “up-yours” to Tommy Boy. In fact, I give Tommy Boy a lot of credit because they signed or worked a lot of the zany stuff that I’ve done. But the only person who went to bat for me at the time was Monica Lynch [former A&R of Tommy Boy Records], and she left. But she was the one who signed me and then De La Soul, and she’s the one who convinced the label to sign me this last time around, even though everyone at the label was all skeptical. She went to bat and it was a shame that, as soon as I got back there, she decided to leave and I was left there to fend for myself. Plus, it’s a shame that they sat on my records, like Prince Among Thieves. I handed that in February ‘98 and it didn’t come out until February ‘99. I was sitting there the whole time on pins and needles hoping that nobody came out with the same concept during that time. Then, when it finally came out, it wasn’t until sometime after the critical acclaim that the label said it was a great record, but before that they were giving me all these reasons why the record wasn’t selling — “Oh your record doesn’t have this or that, it doesn’t have any single material.” Can I get a shirt? “No.” They did the same thing on my next project, which was the Handsome Boy Modeling School record. Me and Dan had to pay for that video, and I don’t think Tommy Boy even serviced it, I think we had to service it ourselves, and we didn’t even get a T-shirt. I mean, I know a T-shirt is minimal, but that’s it, it just goes to show that they wouldn’t even do minimal promotion. But they’ll put a million dollars into a group called Pimpadelic, that sells a few copies. That’s just wrong, and it can hurt your feelings when you put so much time and effort into something. So my rebellion was Politics of the Business.

It seems like, from all the time they’ve put in with you, and for all the albums they released for you, they would know by now that you’re not an MTV-style hit factory.
That’s never been my style, and I don’t even try to compete with those kinds of guys. I mean, people talk about Three Feet High And Rising as this breakthrough album, but we just did that out of fun. We didn’t make it to cross over, it just crossed over, so people don’t remember that was the whole situation.

You said that, back then, things were more promising than they are now. Are there any other glaring differences in the rap game?
I think that one big thing is that people have a tendency to make music so they don’t get dropped. A lot of people end up making music to please the label as opposed to making music to rep themselves. Most of what I get know is a lot of kids telling me that their label wants them to work with this one producer, or it’s always “I have to…,” like, “I have to make this for the clubs” or “I have to make this for so-and-so to play on the radio.” Before, it was about making whatever your gut told you to make, and the label liked that, but now it seems like labels are trying to mold everyone to be the same, and maybe rightfully so, they want to make their money back. But if you don’t make their money back, you get dropped. I always use this example, but if Bob Marley, Marvin Gaye, George Clinton and a lot of them cats came out now, they’d get dropped because their first records weren’t mega hits. So right now there are a lot of potentially great artists out there, but we’ll never know.

Are people really that naïve? Do they really think that, as soon as they’ve sign a contract, they’ve got it made?
Oh yeah, everybody thinks that. I mean, look at MTV. There are shows like Cribs, “Oh look at me I’m bling-blingin’, it’s good to be P. Diddy.” You see these things in the videos and the magazines and they only show the good side, so automatically kids who first get signed think they got it made and that they don’t have to do anything else. Me and Chris Rock were talking about that recently — “I’m ballin’, I got a Bentley with a quarter tank of gas and four bald tired, but I got that Bentley!” People just wanna showboat, but they can’t afford half the things they got. I hate to complain, but I do at least like to acknowledge what’s going on out there.

You’ve been a part of rap music since pretty much the beginning, and you always seem to be having fun with what you’re doing. Is fun the key to longevity?
I have always had the feeling that if I’m not having fun, then it becomes a job. I don’t want to make what was a hobby and what started as fun when I was a kid, into a job. It has to be fun. I can’t be creative if I’m under pressure. See, I’m the guy whose anti-establishment, I always have been, so I’ll do some stuff but I’ll poke some fun at it. I hate conformity, but I’m not going to dye my hair green just to look different. I did wear a suit on the VH1 special, when everybody else wore regular stuff. It was subtle, sure, but I’m not going to sit there with someone’s name brand across my chest and front with one of them pimp cups that everybody’s wearing these days.

Because you don’t necessarily fit the MTV mold, do you feel like you still have to struggle to get work and earn a living these days?
Yeah. I mean, I do okay, but my brother always puts it perfectly: “Paul won’t spend $10 unless he has $10,000.” I always try to live way below my means. Even though the average cat might think I’m doing pretty good or that I have a big chunk of change, to me, I look at it like whatever I have now has to last me the rest of my life, because who knows how long I’ll be making records?

So is that your motivation — making sure all of your bases are covered?
My motivation has always just been proving to others and myself that I have any type of self-worth, that I actually belong. A lot of hip-hoppers won’t ever divulge themselves and say that they’re pretty insecure, but you know, a lot of things that people go through as children has an effect on who they are as adults, so therefore, a lot of my records are all about me proving myself. I’ve always gotten some kind of static about something I’ve done in the past, so every record I’ve made is me proving myself. And you know, there used to be stuff on the radio that I liked, but I don’t get that anymore, so now it’s just me trying to show people that I am an old school guy but I can still be creative and still come up with something new and different.

Are there any sparks of hope out there with regards to new music?
Um…no. People tell me that I’m hating when I say that, but walk in my shoes and then tell me that. And it’s always these kids — they’re like 22, 23 — who write for whatever magazine who tell me that I’m hating, but they weren’t there in the late ‘70s and ‘80s when people wanted to avoid hip-hop and thought it was just a fad, and we fought for it…all to come up to this? What happened? I mean, it’s good that everybody’s making money off of it, that’s the plus side. As for the culture itself, it doesn’t exist anymore. Everyone’s going back to the four elements saying, “hip-hop’s graffiti and hip-hop’s DJing,” but hip-hop started with all that stuff. What’s the new thing? Nothing. There’s no new element. It’s all prepackaged now, and that’s sad, and kids end up with a lack of creativity to make their own things.

So there’s no hope, eh?
No, not from me, but again, you gotta remember that this is not coming from a hating voice. I accept it all, I don’t think anyone owes me anything, and to be fair, there are a few good records here and there some good producers and MCs. So I will acknowledge that it is out there, but the good is not overpowering the bad, and it doesn’t look like that’s gonna happen anytime soon.

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