How Radamiz Stopped Unraveling and Found His Focus

When I open my Zoom conversation with Brooklyn-born, LA-based MC Radamiz, he’s a one-week newlywed, and Lightman, his first full-length LP in six years, had just dropped. It’s a momentous time for him that feels like a consequence of the intention he pours into every aspect of his life, including his artistry. He’s been a respected name in the indie rap scene since dropping 2016’s Writeous and following it up with nine more projects since, developing a reputation for sharp lyricism and forthright storytelling so palpable that rapper-producer Logic once randomly sent him a batch of beats to rap on.

A year ago, he was working on an EP and prepping a project with those Logic beats when he linked with New York-based producer Fontes, who has laced beats for Mach-Hommy, The Lox, Ghostface Killah, and more. The two hit it off personally and creatively, and the feeling he got from Fortes’ production jumped the project to the front of his priority list. Radamiz says their creative kinship came at a time when aspects of his old life were “unraveling” and making space for new creative stratagem. A choice conversation with his friend, director Anthony Jamari Thomas, was integral in the switch: “I was like, ‘yo, I don’t feel like you’re listening to music right now,’” he recalls. “And he was like, ‘I have enough things to spiral in my own life. I don’t want to listen to confusion.’” He says Thomas’ thumbs-down of hypocritical projects made him hone in on delivering his most focused album yet. There’s not much creative license or thematic hodgepodging happening on Lightman, a scrapbook on his reflections and lessons over the past several years. 

The project starts with him pondering, “What do you do when you find out one of our favorite MCs/Behind the scenes, may or may not have put hands on their past Queen?,” and addresses “the rapper in my city who was blocking me,” though these revelations aren’t as important to him as simply telling his story. On “S.P.I.R.I.T.” he rhymes, “feel like Jonah, I cannot tell, have I been teaching them well? Or teaching at all? Responsibility when engineer hits record.” And on “One/Slide” he bemoans, “Media addicting us to someone else’s funds/I can’t glorify no man but the Son/They want me outside of the club, demonic and dumb,” pounding the end rhyme with emphasis exemplifying his goal to break up his bars with vocal tricks (He does similar with “On point” refrains on “6AM”). The track is a collective glimpse of a man focused on being the best man he can be, not the richest, nicest, flyest, or whatever other superlatives artists are conditioned to chase. 

“You can’t separate yourself from the things that you create,” he says. “So if you’re insecure, I’m going to get that from the tracklist. If you don’t know if you want to be gangster or peaceful or a drug dealer or righteous or vulnerable, I’m going to get that from the project. And there’s nothing wrong with…okay, bad, be truthful, sure. But be mindful that you might be speaking six languages in the same 30 minutes, and it may be hard for even you to flesh out a thought and be confident in what you give people to listen to and repeat for themselves.” 

And while he was minding his penmanship, Fortes was sending him a soundscape of warm production such as “Clean Hands” and “S.P.I.R.I.T.,” that Radamiz felt demanded the truth. The 32-year-old has had a winding trip through the industry as part of the New York collective Mogul Club, signing to PayDay Records, then leaving to focus on his own pursuits. He’s been back to the drawing board multiple times during his career, including a six-year gap between 2019’s Nothing Changes If Nothing Changes and Lightman (he’s dropped seven EPs and mixtapes since then).

“One of the things I had to heal was expectations for my career. It was blinding me,” he admits. Today, even if he isn’t yet the arena-packing artist he wouldn’t mind becoming, he’s content: “I am so taken care of,” he says. It’s a refreshing perspective that portends to what hip-hop would be better off with more of. He’s not the siloed artist whose sense of self is tied to metrics, net worth, and public perception. He’s a father, husband, brother, and son first who just happens to be able to rap the competition under the table. No matter where his career goes from here, Radamiz seems ready to take it on with grace. But with the growth, skill, and beat selection on he and Fortes’ project, the trajectory should only be going up. 

At what point in the album were you when you had that conversation about “confusion?” 

The EP was pretty much done. I’m finishing the mixing and mastering on this New York trip. I’m at about 40%, but I don’t know I have an album yet that I have to make right. For me, I have an EP that I’m working on releasing, and then I have this mixtape with Logic beats that just came in a spur, so I’m thinking that’s next. I link with Anthony Jamari Thomas [and have the conversation]. Around then I was already starting to unravel at the seams, and something [needed] to die. It seemed like I was already on the right path with what I was making, but it was time to make a hard pivot. 

What was spurring that unraveling? 

Multiple things. One of ’em, is the work. I got back into monologues. I got back into poems being read, I started building performances that incorporated in-the-moment spontaneity. I started having a relationship with the clarity of my lyrics because it’s different when you’re reciting music. It’s just lyrics in this rhythm and this beat, and you can just flow or not. If you’re just talking and there’s nothing backing, you just start caring [more]. I wanted to challenge, “Am I making sense? Do I have a relationship with the things I’m writing or am I just used to writing a certain way?“ What came was I’m more powerful when I’m more literal and nuanced and specific than abstract and poetic and emotive.  I think my style naturally started catching on to the emotive and the abstract and all that, just the way I wanted to paint a picture. But I’m just not as powerful that way. I think I have a brevity to just be direct.

My increase in my faith challenge[d me]. To pray every day…one of my prayers is, “God, I want to hate what you hate and I want to love what you love.” That starts changing you, reading the Bible, etc. There’s nowhere to hide. Actually, I’m always under surveillance. Every word that I say reverberates, I’m not even aware of how much is in all the decisions that I make [for] myself, my wife, my child, my friends, my listeners. If I’m taking you to poor restaurants now you’re eating poor food. I just started becoming so aware of how responsible I am to be the best version of a vessel and a conduit. 

And then I just got my skillset challenged. I was in Topanga before the fires for three days, and Mahershala [Ali] gave me every analogy you could receive to challenge me to be 5%, 3% better. 

At this stage in my writing, he’s actually one of the few people who actually just, we just talk about style and technique. And what I walked away from that [is]: Are you being clear about where you’re headed? Do you care about your work now? You are aware I inherited this position that I’m in for good or for bad. T

I just had to shift. There was so much insecurity and competition, but it was mental. I was never competing with people, but I was competing in my head to be the best. And for me, that meant jack of all trades, and this was all subconscious. But then also, I just fell in love with rap music. I’ve never heard it before as well. I just really love words, man. I’m seeing it become this vehicle for everyone, this ticket into a group or something. And I’m like, wait a minute, we’re talking about words here. Thank God, humanity got to a point where we have languages and we can cross collaborate.

What were some of the things you were listening to heavily during that period where you’re rekindling your love for hip hop? 

I think first and foremost, it’s just the beats from Fortes and our conversations. It’s like there isn’t much to enjoy in other things because it’s sometimes a derivative [of] the thing that you are working on. So part of that relationship was listening to the beats and listening to me talk and realizing I’m not being clear, I’m not saying what I need to say. And that was so much of the process, to be honest. You write something and then it’s like you get into muscle memory and then you’re like, okay, that’s dope. And then you look back and you’re like, “How many words did I use to just say that I’m fly? I don’t think this beat is that.” I don’t think this album is that. It also felt like I was hearing rap music for the first time. I’m listening to different interviews. I see what Kendrick is on because some of what he’s fighting is his version of what an ideal rap space should look like. Roc Marci and Ka, same thing. I’m going to be unwavering in what I think is the dopest thing for you to listen to because of how considered these lyrics are. Westside Gunn, his inability to stay quiet about himself. I feel you. It’s like, “Yo, do you know what it took to arrive here?” You have the Slick Rick album, and it’s just like, “Wow, okay.’ People are just making things. I don’t know. I feel like I just started hearing everybody for the first time. 

I heard the 10 J Cole episodes from his [Inevitable podcast]. I’m hearing his journey, and I’m like, wow. I just have so much respect for people’s journeys and the way it comes out. I think we all have a responsibility to be great, and it’s for each other’s sake. There’s music that I don’t enjoy that I can appreciate its existence because of its ability to feed families and change lives and hopefully push the genre forward.

What are the specific elements of Fortes production that really struck you?

I think one of them before the production is [that] I could tell he’s hard to impress. He’s not this boisterous person that’s like, “That’s trash.” But he’d be like, “Yo, who do you think is dope?” And I feel like I just never told him. I don’t even know. I don’t even think that way. I think I just appreciate the fact that people are doing this. We just always had very raw conversations. He caught me at the perfect time because I was ready to step it up when I made “One/Slide.” 

And Fortes’ beats have that space. It’s like they don’t force me to move on from a thought. They don’t force me to rush and force me to respect the choices, and here’s enough. That’s all you got to do. I gave you enough for you to do what you need to do with this. Sometimes the beats will be a minute and 10 seconds long. I’m like, “Yo, bro, please send me this triple. This needs to be four minutes long.” 

It’s harder to be a minimalist because you have to be confident about that brush stroke. You have to be confident about this one instrument. Let not, it’s like the difficulty in Thelonious Monk is having that much to say with just the piano. And for me, this album has nothing else to rely on, but the quality of the thought, the songwriting. And the beats just apply the pressure and give me the space to fully flesh out a thought. I needed that. I needed that in this era of my life as a 32-year-old MC, married father, living in not my city, in an industry that thank God keeps getting older and who’s allowed to participate in a modern setting that age just keeps expanding. 

[In] marriage, you’re signing up for responsibility. And then being a father, your child is an individual. As soon as they’re born, you can clearly see how you have an effect on them in a tangible way. If I teach you to say, please, then that starts being incorporated. Sometimes my daughter tells me, “Daddy, it’s okay. Take a deep breath.” She’s three. And she’s like, “Oh, you’re in a bad mood. Let me give you a hug. I’m sorry, daddy.” She’s apologizing. She could be in a bad mood. And then she gets me in a bad mood and she might just stop crying and just tend to me. And all of this is indicative of the work we put in as a household, as a family. And I’m aware of how much she’s not aware of the work that exists in creating an infrastructure for her. She has no idea what our rent is. She has no idea how much clothes costs. She has no idea why this tv, why that artwork? Why is this your uncle? Why is this your aunt? Why is this the city you live in? And we’re the ones responsible for that framework and contributing to an environment that allows her to be an individual and explore, but hopefully creates the right context. And then you’re like, okay, Fortes just sent a new beat. Here’s a new song. That’s what’s happening in your brain. And then your life simultaneously….they’re not separate. You can’t be responsible as a father, be faithful and have urgency and follow through as a husband, and then think, I’m just about to waste your time for 40 minutes because I just need to rap. No, that care is transverse. 

On “S.P.I.R.I.T.,” you said, “Took my jewelry off, fell lighter, felt power, felt like I’m not lying.“ The idea of what a rapper is “supposed” to be, how they’re ‘supposed” to move, how they’re “supposed” to look…how do you navigate that now? What was that epiphany? 
It’s not the thing, it’s your relationship to the thing, right? So to me, this is the illest piece of jewelry I could have. [Flashes wedding band.]  I’ve been wanting this and there’s still an awareness of aesthetic and this looks good. But why am I making sure before I go to the video shoot, I have these rings and this chain? I don’t think that’s fly by default. I’m not saying it can’t be. I’m saying by default it ain’t, some people, the outfits would look better if they took off some jewelry. Like you’re getting in the way of the cut on that sweatshirt. 

And what are you signaling? Are you being truthful with your taste? Are you being truthful with your expression or are you mimicking what other people have set and established as a barometer, and your proximity to what they’ve established gets you flyer? At some point, I just realize I’m fly no matter what I have on, because it’s your spirit. What I’m aiming to do is to inspire people to love who they already are because you’re probably ignoring your greatness. You’re probably ignoring the thing that makes you stand out. And I know that because I have up until recently and I’m still undoing things. 

And that doesn’t mean I don’t have yogi wise and Balenciaga and Rick Owens or whatever in my closet. It just means that can be justice flyer, not as the $20 thing. My father always said there has to be a little bit of everything for it to be a world. For this to be a world, nice things are to be enjoyed. But when your worth is dependent on their existence around you, that’s where you’re flawed. And I don’t think I feel like I can shine without something shining on me, so to speak. 

You referenced earlier that there were new songwriting approaches and techniques that you explored on the project. What are some of those moments? 
I think technically you should be able to walk away with how I’m thinking, at least 60 to 70%. That was a skill. I don’t think that’s the case across my discography before. It doesn’t mean I wasn’t being real. It doesn’t mean I wasn’t being focused on my goal at that time. But I wanted to make an album that you didn’t understand what I said. It’s more like I got to think about why you said, “If you need me, rich, make me rich. If you need me broke, make me broke.” And maybe the work is now what makes someone say that? I feel like sometimes as MCs, man, we forget we’re writing songs. We’re writing melody, we forget, we’re writing choruses. We forget how the human brain works. The listener is the expert. It is not you and I, Andre, we are too close to it. There’s things that the audience gets that change our lives. And one of the things is, “What does the memorability of a song look like? How much do you prioritize it?” 

At some point I had to be honest and say, I’m not here to limit my audience to a 100-person count, so to speak. I’m not here to be the artist that’s like, if y’all don’t get it, y’all sleeping. Nobody’s sleeping on me. I’m out here making lullaby music. I’m putting you to sleep. I’m making it hard to stay awake through an album with my song styles and my song structures. 

You could just hold on to the cadence and the hook, “Grace, grace, grace.” I can’t write a whole lyrical chorus after this. I have three verses that deal with one thought at a time. I just need to have some horns and I need to just repeat the word grace and I need to give space between these verses and on either side and make sure it’s a beat that isn’t challenging you too much either. So some songs are four verses like E, some songs are three verses Grace, grace, grace. Some songs are two verses, some songs are straight through, but there’s still a refrain and a chorus. There was every kind of a way to write a rap song, so to speak on this. And that wasn’t deliberate. I think that’s just how I move. But I feel like it was in my fascination to just do the best with the beats and the rhymes and the song structure and just being honest with what do I have to say and when can I just stop? I feel like it was challenging yet, yet very inspiring. It’s like I respect myself more after making this album because of how much care I expressed. 

At this point in your career and your life, what do you aspire to? What are your goals? 
I mean, right now, man, one of the things I had to heal was expectations for my career. It was blinding me. I am so taken care of. There is so much mercy afforded to me. There is weight I don’t carry that I should. There is pain that I’ve felt that sometimes to reminisce on. It feels like I’m remembering someone else’s life, and I’m human. I have rent. I want to buy my family a house. I’d like to have my music heard by millions at the same time or whatever. But I’m an artist for real. I am almost hardheaded and stupid about how relentless I am [in asking], ‘Can I purify the thing I make and can it have its audience?” Being in rapping for 20 years, you learn, you lose fans and you gain new ones. And then some old fans come back and the same way you and I do. 

My goal is to just make art and trust that I will be provided for it. If I’m supposed to continue making it and doing it and putting it out and wherever I’m supposed to go, I’ll go. If I’m not supposed to make art, I trust that God will take it off my heart and put my mind somewhere else. And if I am, then I’m sure that I will be protected in doing so and encouraged and supported beyond my understanding. I just want to submit.

Here are three more dope indie projects to check out:

Open Mike Eagle, Neighborhood Gods Unlimited

In 2010, Chicago artist Open Mike Eagle coined his sound, “Art Rap,” telling writer Jeff Weiss that, ‘It’s the idea that rap is not disposable…I wanted to create a space for myself that was genuinely me. Whether you like it or not, you can’t dismiss it.’ And 15 years later, those guiding principles have made Open Mike Eagle one of the underground’s most respected — if still unheralded — acts. Last month, he dropped Neighborhood Gods Unlimited, a dense, 14-track project where creative possibility is as vast as his penmanship. 

Mike has never shied away from referencing how his Chicago upbringing shaped him and those around him, but does so with a refreshing humility, wit, and relatability. That’s the case from album intro “,” where he depicts a conspiracy theorist at his barbershop who’s obsessed with illuminati rumors, then spends the second verse delving into insidious dynamics that deserve more of our consideration: “Roll the Bill of Rights in a pipe and use it on Nancy Kerrigan /Cause Hogan said “nigga”, and he was a real American /Heard what the song say, interpreted it the wrong way.” 

The project’s strongest moments are its most intimate, such as “relentless hands and feet” where he admits, “I had to fight a rapper’s apathy to get this beat / I’m fighting self-doubt to walk this street;” on “my co-worker clark kent’s secret black box” he raps from the perspective of Clark Kent’s coworkers, before becoming Kent in the next verse, with rap as his superpower. Another one of the project’s standout moments is “Rejoinder,” where he depicts a lost connection where, “You was gone, cause I left you / On your own, I’m so regretful.” Is it about a romantic or platonic connection, or a metaphor for his rap career? The specifics aren’t clear, but the Nolan The Ninja-produced track is too resonant to need explanation. 

Neighborhood Gods Unlimited is another thoughtful release, layered with minimalist, warm production from the likes of Child Actor, Kenny Segal and others. 

$ilkMoney, WHO WATERS THE WILTING GIVING TREE ONCE THE LEAVES DRY UP AND FRUITS NO LONGER BEAR

As I’ve conveyed before, a $IlkMoney project is a one-of-one music experience. Is known for a feverish delivery and inventive comedic song titles like the ones that permeate his latest project, WHO WATERS THE WILTING GIVING TREE ONCE THE LEAVES DRY UP AND FRUITS NO LONGER BEAR? It’s a vital question that orients the project, inspired by Shel Silverstein’s The Giving Tree.  

$ilkMoney raps with the relentlessness of a battle rapper. Whether he’s juxtaposing his delivery over soul loops like “A WHALE IS ONLY AS BLUE AS YOU IT IS, SO, ITS 2,” or having the roaring guitar on “FUUUUCK, BABY. YOU’RE JUST SO SEXY WHEN YOU’RE TERRIFIED Lyrics” amp his ire, $ilkMoney can’t help but compel. It would be a fool’s errand to pick out one line that epitomizes him, but his mesh of intellect, brashness, and disdain hilariously coalesce at the start of “BIGFATJELLYDACHILIDAAAWG LUVAHLUVAH:” “I divide into equal parts, the cosmic egg/To create the universe, bitch-ass nigga.” 

That tone is par for the course on a project that cuts no cards, chastising Jonathan Majors for his career-altering scandal for a good portion of “PROLLY WOULDN’T BE HERE IF WE WOULDA BEEN KILLED THAT NIGGA KING BACH,” where he also crowns Kai Cenat our modern King Bach and bemoans, “I watched an AI rapper say ‘nigga’ and wonder who built him and gave the script creation.” The social commentary is incisive, even if it comes off humorously at times

And while it’s fun to hear $ilkMoney’s justified annoyance, he also has moments where he turns things project inward, such as “FIRST I GIVE UP, THEN I GIVE IN, THEN I GIVE ALL Lyrics,” where he ponders ‘how I could ever be more than I am if I give me all the way,” over a gleaming soul sample. On “THE $400 CHEESEBURGER FROM THE WINDOW SHOPPER VIDEO WAS JUST A BIG MAC,” he raps, “I psychoanalyze my life, but I kinda prefer it that way.” And even on a heavy track, he thrice samples Martin Lawrence’s as Jerome from Martin crooning. “THERE ARE HILLS AND MOUNTAINS BETWEEN US, ALWAYS SOMETHING TO GET OVER” is one of the track’s romantic moments, as he warmly depicts a lasting relationship, also rapping, “Don’t sous vide my steak when you make it, I don’t want the microplastics to eat me alive.” Humor is never far away on a $IlkMoney record — and neither is top shelf lyricism, random references, and excellent beat selection. 

ZayAllCAPS, art POP * pop art

ZayALLCAPs was originally highlighted in No Filler for his “Boy (V)” single. He was likely working on his third album art POP & pop art. The Bay artist has been releasing music since 2021, when he dropped a slew of EPs. One of them was entitled I’m Slowly Getting Better; he wasn’t lying. Four years later, his latest effort shows a burgeoning mastery of a slinky, convention-defying sound. Zay’s irreverent social media presence and album art stamps him as a wanderer of the art world’s endless digital expanse, where id trumps convention and a choice to croon in autotune (such as on “Ode 2 Ivory”) or rap in a gyrating pitch (like on “Tasty”) feels like a matter of flow state. 

There could be quibbling about whether art Pop * pop art is an outright “hip-hop album,” but regardless, it’s too good to deny. From the project’s outset, with lead single “Pimp My Ride,” he steeps the listener in a warm, synth-driven project. It’s the kind of love song that doesn’t insist upon soul-bearing yearning or reeling a girl in with gifts, just the cheeky request to “pimp my ride.” Zay’s playfulness persists throughout the project. It’s a 9-song, 25-minute listen that breezes by. Part of the fun is anticipating where Zay — and his several collaborators — are going to go next vocally. 

On “Ode 2 Ivory,” he croons in a high-pitched voice, then finishes the song teetering on the edge of rapping and crooning, observing “got an attitude underneath the composure/I’mma learn you and I’m so certain.” On “Lovin U,” he offers one of the album’s most overt rap moments but still has fun with it, shifting the modulation of his vocal pitch through the verse and adding reverb for effect. As he shows on “Tasty,” after unfurling some triple-time bars, his “dry” voice is easygoing and fits his lush production, but the modulation, true to the name of his AutotuneKaraoke label, is his signature. The result is a fun project that placates the listener looking for smooth R&B, but offers more than a few tricks for those seeking some boundary-pushing.

No Filler is an indie-rap column by Andre Gee running monthly on RollingStone.com. You can check out the No Filler playlist right here.