Bar for Bar, Show for Show, 2025 Was Clipse’s Year

I
t took 16 years, but they did it: Pusha T and Malice, a.k.a. Terrence Thornton and Gene Thornton Jr., a.k.a. the Clipse, reunited for their first album since 2009 and flipped the world of hip-hop on its head. Let God Sort Em Out, the precisely engineered monument to their own eternal dopeness that the two brothers released in July, breaks many unwritten rules. It’s a lyrics-first project, with more emphasis on verbal craftsmanship than catchy hooks, that nonetheless hit the Billboard 200’s top five, matching their highest-ever position on that chart, back in 2002; it’s an album of startling maturity and vulnerability from a duo once more accustomed to boasting; and perhaps most of all, it’s a must-listen, endlessly replayable set of songs from two seasoned veterans working in a genre that often prizes youth. “I like to think that we slammed the door on ageism in hip-hop,” says Malice, 53. “That’s a stigma that probably never should have existed, and hopefully that’s done away with.”

He and his younger brother Pusha T are sounding justifiably proud of what they achieved this year when they log on to Zoom from a studio in their hometown of Virginia Beach, Virginia. “It’s a testament to, first and foremost, how we look at music, and the high level of taste — and just executing,” says Pusha, 48. “We’re perfectionists almost to a fault sometimes, but we know what we want, and I think it translated.”

Both of them enjoyed seeing the world react to the carefully choreographed spate of interviews and on-camera performances (including multiple chats with Rolling Stone) that they rolled out in the lead-up to the album’s release. “It took me to a time when I was just a fan and I used to run to the mags and the publications to see what was going on, and that would turn into lunchroom arguments and barbershop arguments: ‘Did y’all hear what they said?’” Pusha says. “Just to watch that play out in today’s time with the new mediums … I think we did a damn good job in creating that conversation around a really good album.”

He notes, with a characteristic smirk, that not all of today’s big stars share his and Malice’s willingness to expose themselves to questions from a journalist. “It showed the pride that we had in the music,” Pusha adds. “We’re willing to hear others’ opinions — the good, the bad, and the ugly. We stood on it, as opposed to just making the music and then hiding. We want to talk about it.”

THEY’VE BOTH TALKED in-depth about everything that brought them to this point: How Malice left his lyrical persona behind in 2010 to embrace a life of faith, how Pusha built a successful solo career out of necessity in the decade-plus that followed, and how they found their way back to being the Clipse again, while also honoring the ways they’ve both grown. “It’s great to be back with my brother,” Malice says. “The level that he has kept our legacy alive — the professionalism, the taste level, just being top-tier — it made it a real nice place for me to be able to land at. To have him save a seat for me all this time the way he did is an amazing thing.” 

They give credit, too, to Pharrell Williams, a lifelong friend since their earliest days in Virginia, who returned to produce the new album. “What you’re hearing is years of friendship and comfort,” Malice says. “At home, from the same place — I think that makes for great music. Just being familiar, being comfortable, laughing, reminiscing, telling stories.”

“I think it’s the most fun he has, honestly,” Pusha adds.

Those decades of experience, both in the studio and in real life, are a key part of what made this album so resonant. Malice returns to the theme of ageism in rap, what he calls the “crazy” expectation that older artists have less to offer. “I believe that the young men definitely have their time,” he says. “They have that energy, they have that angst and rebellion — but that’s just the start of it. You need to see what kind of lessons were learned and where you end up. You got to finish the book. You don’t just start at the beginning and put it down.”

Pusha notes that they wanted to uphold and reinforce the East Coast hip-hop traditions they grew up with on this album. “The fundamentals of the game never die,” he says. “They’re just as interesting, just as entertaining, just as impressive as all the new energy that comes in and out of the game.” (And he wouldn’t be Pusha if he didn’t get in a dig at some of the contemporary artists who don’t live up to his artistic standards. “Not all the new energy is impressive,” he continues. “Just because it’s different and it’s some extra spin you put on it don’t make it good.”)

After releasing Let God Sort Em Out to rave reviews this summer, the Clipse took a well-deserved victory lap with a sold-out, career-spanning tour of theaters and large clubs across the country. Those crowds weren’t just made up of older heads who bought their albums on CDs back in the day, either: The brothers laugh when they remember the teenage fan they saw going “bar for bar” with them on “Momma I’m So Sorry,” from their 2006 masterpiece, Hell Hath No Fury. “She was going crazy,” Pusha says. “I’m like, ‘You were not there!’”

They also appreciated the emotional reactions they got whenever they performed “The Birds Don’t Sing,” the tribute to their late parents that opens the LP. “The fans said they weren’t able to express that kind of grief,” Malice says. “We summed it up for them, giving language to that type of pain. We heard about it night after night on tour.”

They react with mock dismay when asked to choose their favorite bars by each other on the new album. “Oh man,” Malice says. “It’s like picking your favorite child! You can’t even do that.” He finally names Pusha’s verse on “P.O.V.”: “The verse and the flow is just incredible. I love the nonchalant feel of it. It’s spectacular. But I think that about all of the verses.”

Pusha, meanwhile, highlights the “honesty” of Malice’s verse on “So Far Ahead.” “‘I done been both Mason Bethas,’” he says, quoting his brother. “I was like, ‘Man, damn, he got me.’ It was so many moments like that on the album. The intellect, the perspective, the one-liners. We could go back and forth all day.”

One thing they’re both certain of: It won’t be another 16 years before we hear from the Clipse again. “No way,” Malice says emphatically. “Listen, we just got here, man. There’s plenty more.”