Love Lessons

Hip-hop artist Reuben Vincent on newfound fame, bell hooks, and touring with Pusha T.

BY KYESHA JENNINGS music@indyweek.com

Charlotte native Reuben Vincent’s Jamla/Roc Nation debut album, Love Is War, is a conceptual, subtly constructed project—one that continues to prove he is among rap’s newest class of greats.

Released on January 27, the album features profound reflections on love through the lens of family and self-love. The 22-year-old also grapples with today’s unconventional dating standards for twentysomethings.

With polished, varied flows, Vincent weighs the time spent on love against the hours needed to pursue art and dreams. Besides demonstrating that Vincent is a skillful rapper—one who doesn’t need to be compared to every lyricist who’s come before him—Love Is War also reveals him to be an equally talented producer.

The album receives production support from Vincent’s home team: 9th Wonder, The Soul Council, and Young Guru. As expected, the resulting production is soulful and situated within the depths of boom-bap rap; the album also features guest appearances from Rapsody, Reason (TDE), Domani, Stacy Barthe, and Sonny Miles, a rising star of soulful North Carolina music.

Since his introduction with 2017’s critically acclaimed Myers Park, Vincent has always been wise beyond his years. The album is inspired by his parents’ escape from Liberia during the country’s first civil war and their relocation to Charlotte and also takes inspiration from André 3000’s The Love Below and Black feminist literary icon bell hooks’s seminal text All about Love. His vulnerability, wisdom, and emotional maturity are on full display in Love Is War

Over the phone, he spoke to INDY Week to discuss his new record deal, being on tour with Pusha T, his BET hip-hop performance, navigating new fame, and more.

INDY WEEK: Let’s talk about you signing the deal. Was the moment what you’ve always imagined it to be?

REUBEN VINCENT: A lot of people, I feel like they come in the game thinking the label is supposed to do everything, but I already had in mind what I wanted to do. The label’s job is to amplify what you already have created—you know the brand that you already have established. They’ve been able to amplify me and my music.

I’m grateful.

Two specific ways your label has been able to increase your visibility are your participation in Pusha T’s It’s Almost Dry tour and the BET Hip-Hop Cypher. Tell me a little bit about your experience going on tour and having a well-received cypher performance.

Pusha welcomed me with open arms. He embraced me from the first day when I met him. He just told me to keep going, and that [fans] want to hear bars. He was really down-to-earth and humble, which is something I value because he has longevity. I gained a lot of fans from that tour.

This was a lot of people’s opportunity to hear me for the first time, and by the end of my 30-minute set, they were locked in wondering who this kid is.

What gems, if any, did he give you? Or what did you learn from him watching how he moves and his set?

I noticed his professionalism. Everyone on his team was on the same page and it was clear they had a mission to accomplish. On tour, we had a number of opportunities to talk and he told me, “Be true to yourself and what your brand is.” And he’s the epitome of that.

How did you prep for the BET Hip-Hop Cypher? And do you pay attention to the reactions on social media?

Some people sent me a few comments. For me, it was dope, because, you know, that was one of the things that were on my list of goals. I think it’s a rite of passage. And I feel like the beat wasn’t a conventional

Was this your first Grammy weekend?

This was my first Grammy weekend. Just a few years ago you were a regular kid with a dream. And now in the blink of an eye, you’re rubbing elbows with celebrities at the premiere brunch during Grammys weekend presented by Jay-Z. Do you find that you’re comfortable navigating industry spaces—you know, the celebrity-ism of it all?

It’s definitely still weird to me, especially because people are starting to look at me in a different light. But, you know, it was just beautiful to be in the same room with some of those people just having regular conversations and enjoying each other’s time and company. It just showed me how far I can take it and allowed me to see more clearly where I want my career to go.

Like, you know, we got our foot in the door, but how are we gonna stay here and maintain value in the room? But it was beautiful, especially coming from Charlotte, North Carolina.

What did you learn about love on your own? And what were you taught about love growing up?

What I was taught and experienced is the same thing: love is definitely not easy and it’s hard to do. Especially real love. It is going to try you. It’s going to expose things that you don’t want to be exposed. I’ve learned from my parents that you shouldn’t run away from love. The more I pushed away from it, the more the feelings continued to be present. Things are not gonna be any better if I continue to run away from it—I have to face it.

Why do you think, specifically for Black folks, that we’re scared of true commitment and love?

Many people feel most comfortable in a “situationship.” But when it comes time to actually be committed, honest, and vulnerable about our feelings there’s often hesitation.

I feel like the reason why we hesitate with love is because we don’t know how to feel. In my observation, with this whole love thing, the reason why people start to hesitate is oftentimes we’ve been through so much hurt, pain, and trauma.

It’s like, “If I show you my real self, will you love me?” And then, “I don’t know if I truly love myself enough to show you my real self. How do I know you’re gonna love what I show you?” Because we all have insecurities.

We have to, as people, get to the point of loving those things so that when we are in a relationship we’re not running away from the things that hide within. As Black people, we carry so many burdens on our backs and that makes it harder to commit because sometimes we don’t have the space to even commit to ourselves. W

Sumner James, the ambient project of James Phillips, reassures with a spirit of bittersweet calm.

BY JORDAN LAWRENCE music@indyweek.com

If the notion of a member of a local indie pop band named after a character from The Lord of the Rings releasing homemade electronic records on the side doesn’t fill you with overwhelming confidence, I totally get it. Long is the list of tedious side projects from musicians who would be better suited to dedicating effort toward their main band.

But James Phillips’s Sumner James is not such a project.

Over the years, James and steadfast Bombadil member Daniel Michalak have stuck together in the winningly quirky and deep-thinking Durham band, keeping the project above water during multiple obstacles, including lineup shifts and a period when a nerve condition sidelined Michalak. But James has also spent the past decade-plus in solo work, cutting his teeth on charming electro-pop before moving onto a succession of increasingly engrossing ambient records.

I Could Just Go On Forever—Phillips’s third ambient album and the first release for Bathysphere Records, a new imprint he is starting with two friends—is a testa- ment to what Phillips has become during his time releasing music as Sumner James: a seasoned electronic musician with a composer’s touch for harmony and melody.

Phillips doesn’t just layer up vistas of arresting, trance-inducing sonic texture; he lets melodies emerge and play out across the various elements. Tunes flit from skittering clicks to airy synths in the way an orchestra might toss from violin to viola, with other themes emerging in the background, giving his music uncommon richness and depth.

The album spans various shades of bittersweet calm—from the apocalyptic chill of “Rainy Friday” and the digitized ennui of the title track and “Hard Drive Detritus” to the expansive yearning of the 14-minute epic “Just the World”—lulling the listener into its reverie and then wowing with the emotion-rich intricacy of each track’s construction.

In other words, it sounds like the work of a fully realized project operating at its highest level. Maybe, after all, we should call Phillips an electronic musician who also has a band. W