Inside Saba’s Daring Anonymous Collaboration

D
Despite being 23 years his senior, prolific producer No ID has a much more childlike air about him than Chicago indie rapper Saba, who is quietly contemplative, if not a bit cautious. When we met at No ID’s Los Angeles studio in October, the duo sat next to each other at a long desk. No ID, 53, spins toward us when he’s amused, making animated faces and mischievous grins. Even as the person who molded Kanye West’s youth and oversaw the production of Jay-Z’s most introspective album of 2017 4:44. No ID still considers himself a lifelong student – he and Saba, 30, are even enrolled together in a photography class while working on a book on the coffee table. “I never like to disrespect a genre, namely education,” he says, playing with a Leica camera.

The photography class is somewhat of a side job. At the moment, their main task is to finalize a joint album. From the private collection of Saba and No Identity. which they have been working on since 2022. Set to drop in January, it serves as a rich and cohesive testament to their individuality and the promise of hip-hop. With a masterful mix of emotional samples and original loops, the album feels like a piece of sunlight hitting you as you discover treasures in your grandmother’s attic. Saba’s raps are filled with the wise self-digging of someone who spends a lot of time in his head. “I’m an introvert, but I’m famous,” he knowingly says in a song that seems to reimagine Janet Jackson’s “I Get Lonely.”

Although Saba may not have the fame of former No ID collaborators like Jay-Z, Common or Nas, the younger frontman helped define Chicago’s jazzy and cerebral sound in the 2000s alongside peers like Noname and Chance the Rapper. Although he has built a dedicated fan base that faithfully performs and streams his shows. Private group It feels like a reintroduction, where he’s as adept at amplifying the details of his life – like growing his hair long and practicing yoga – as he is at addressing atrocities like the murder of some of the people closest to him. Still, the album radiates optimism and personality, a bright mosaic of the duo’s multi-layered lives.

Before working with No ID, Saba was influenced by a long line of mentors, such as his father, R&B singer Chandler, and his uncle, producer Tommy Skelvinger, who managed the first version of the No ID project. Special Collection “Big Picture” before his death last year. No one knew who they were at the scene in Chicago, which is also his hometown. But he’s not eager to claim the title of mentor for himself – although artists like Kanye West, J. Cole, and Logic have given him that credit on their songs “Big Brother,” “Let Nas Down,” and “5 Hooks.” “. He says: “I don’t think I’ve ever said in my life: ‘Hey, I’m going to mentor anyone,'” he says. “That’s marketing.” What he did do, he says, was recognize people he saw something special in, and share what he knew with them. “I’m just saying, man, jump on the truck. Let’s go for a ride. We’ll see some stuff, we’ll talk, we’ll take some pictures. ”

Early in their relationship, No ID tried to sign Saba when he was executive vice president at the Capitol, but Saba-who saw success as an independent artist-was skeptical. “I was always like: ‘Bro, come on, man. It’s me!’ No ID remembers. “When I worked in production companies, people looked at me very differently than I do now. It’s like ‘I’m a warrior. I’m one of you. Why are you having this conversation this way? I’m Harriet Tubman!’… It’s like, ‘No, you’re with them. “

For years, they kept in touch, getting to know each other more organically. No ID understood Saba’s stoic nature, playfully nicknamed him Confucius, and Saba received a No ID taste test at Michelin-starred dining experiences. Saba says: “Since working with him, he’s taken us to a few different tasting menus that were really extravagant.” “Food is a kind of artistic shit.”

They returned together to Chicago and talked about their complicated relationship with their hometown. Chicago is where the murder of Saba’s cousin and collaborator, John Walt, shaped his stunning 2018 album. Take care of me.where he lost another close friend, DJ and producer Squeak, shortly before finalizing his latest album, 2022 A Few Good Things.

Saba describes one of his first anonymous studio sessions, in 2019, as “unforgettable”. Says Saba: “He recorded 20 beats in one session,” says Saba. “He sat in the corner, gave me 20 beats, gave me 20 beats, and then went home.” No ID recalls wanting to familiarize himself with Saba’s style in the studio: “I don’t prove much at this point. I just do what I like. And I remember saying, ‘I wonder how he’s going to handle this event. As they reminisce together, Saba reflexively strokes his chin. There is no identifier to indicate this: “He will [make] that face over there and you’ll be like, “What’s he thinking?”

So, when Saba received a packet of more than 100 No ID pulses while on the road in 2022, it was not at all unprecedented. Still, Saba saw it as another test: “He just trusted me with more than 100 pulses. He gave me a chance. Let me do something.” Even though Saba was already in the midst of major life changes – he lost Squeak, left Chicago, and bought a house in Los Angeles – he still managed to produce 13 songs that reflect the passing of time.

No Identity did not make those impulses for about a month as a way to test himself. He says: “There are producers, and there are beatmakers.” When I ask him to differentiate between the two, he points to Quincy Jones. “Quincy Jones didn’t make music excitement and outside the wall“, he says (speaking several weeks before the legendary artist passed away at the age of 91). “He just brought the team together. That was his role as a producer: Making decisions. “No, that’s the key.” No, that writer. No, that drummer, that engineer.” He didn’t say: “I’ve got this machine, Mike. This is hip-hop.”

As No ID sees it, somewhere along the way, his own style was shaming beatmakers and romanticizing “big, larger-than-life people who sit in chairs and tell everyone what to do” instead. “I felt like, ‘Man, I’ve become too much of a producer. I need to be a beatmaker again.'” So he challenged himself to build an arsenal of beats that would be good enough for Biggie.

Saba handled them expertly. “I was like, ‘Oh, yeah, that’s what I’m talking about,'” he says facelessly, recalling when he recalled the first songs. He was ready to release them as a mixtape – but Saba thought they could do better. “I think it’s just about looking at what I’m capable of and what he’s capable of,” is a nice introduction. “What do we make though?” Saba says.

When I ask the duo which songs they enjoyed the most, No ID asks to go first. “Keep going,” Saba admits. “Thank you Confucius,” No ID says with a smile. There’s one called “30 Secondchop.wav,” a thick code between Saba, his brother Joseph Chillems, and his cousin Jean Doe that came from a quick production trick No ID once taught Saba. Then there’s “Crash,” a cute song about the kind of dates that turn into sleepovers. Raphael Saadiq and Kelly Rowland heard the track while passing through the studio and asked to jump on it. “One Day. [Kelly’s] Like, “Can I, uh…” I’m like, “Do you want to sing on that?” She’s like, “Yeah, I was waiting for you to ask,” no ID to remember.

“How to Impress God,” the next-to-last track on the album, hints at the game-changing power of the duo. It’s both painful and hopeful, as Saba vividly imagines God almost chastising him, before the conversation takes a different turn. He says: “This song serves several different versions of myself,” he says. “A more vain version of myself, where I can only showcase my accomplishments – I haven’t done that at any point in my career. But he is [also] Like, “So what?””

No ID says he played the song for J. Cole. “It was like, ‘I’m gonna get this,’ and I know what that means” – not that Cole was emphasizing a feature, but that was the kind of thing that moved him.

No ID turns to Saba. He says: “I’ve never said this to you, but people will look at it and say, ‘I wish I had said that. “Those are the songs I’m always happy with. I’m a businessman by profession, and an artist at heart.”