By Giselle Zado Wasfie
THE LAST TIME I MET OUTKAST WAS IN NEW YORK
City, about six years ago and a good month before Stankonia was released. They had a one-off show at SOB’s in TriBeCa, and the buzz was incredible. So was the line outside.
When artists promise to take hip-hop “to the next level,” it always seems like a hollow phrase. But here we were, witnessing an actual breakthrough that leaks of “B.O.B.,” “So Fresh, So Clean” and “Ms. Jackson” foretold. Puffy, Lenny Kravitz, Goodie Mob (helping with backup duties)—and pretty much every industry cat with the juice to get tickets—was in attendance. The duo of André “3000” Benjamin and Antwan “Big Boi” Patton was peaking. And things were about to change.
I’d managed to finagle myself backstage, where I chilled in the small dressing room with the show’s cast and crew who looked dressed for the Mardi Gras parade. I snagged a couple moments with the guys on their way up to the stage; they were smiling and playful, happy to chat to a stranger. They were excitement personified, an unopened birthday gift begging to be unwrapped.
“I was at that show,” says a label rep, snapping me back to the present day, where we are sitting on a couch in a dark corner at Quixote Studios in West Hollywood. “They went from SOB’s [capacity 450] to the next time in New York at [Madison Square Garden].”
That just about sums up the intensity of the last six years of OutKast’s career, which has seen them build upon a respectable catalog: Southernplayalisticadillacmuzik (1994), ATLiens (1996), Aquemini (1998) and, of course, Stankonia (2000) to the confidence, clarity and individualism expressed on 2003’s Speakerboxxx/The Love Below and now, a new album that serves as the soundtrack to their much-anticipated musical film, Idlewild. How many platinum plaques, diamond plaques (that’s for 10 million sold), planes, Grammys, girlfriends, parties, rumors have passed? It’s exhausting just thinking about it.
One piece of gossip that persists is whether or not OutKast has broken up, is breaking up, will break up, or is thinking about breaking up. Fans seem endlessly intrigued and concerned. What occurs to me over the days I spend with the fellas is that they share a deep bond filled with so much subtext that it really isn’t possible to sever. Yet, while I observe them in the same vicinity at some points, I never witness them actually interact. I see them play their roles and follow through on responsibilities, but I also see them independent and separate. This begs the bigger question: Why split when you can maintain individual identities and a union?
It’s funny when people discuss the differences between André and Big Boi. Onstage, André’s spirited performance resembles a cartoon. Out of the spotlight, he’s a searcher, an introvert, an eccentric. He’s the Gemini in Aquemini, a sign known for being “self-expressive,” “almost always doing two things at once,” “unpredictable” and “bright.” The Aquarius in Aquemini, Big in this case, is know for being “creative,” “fair,” “cool” and “temperamental.” Dré’s a vegan, Big’s gearing up to barbeque with his kids. Friends since they were 16 growing up in Georgia . . . you get the idea.
In “Idlewild”, a film tailor-made for OutKast by a director-writer Bryan Barber, André plays a shy piano player in a 1930s southern speakeasy named Percival. Big Boi plays Rooster, the outgoing lead performer and manager of the club . . . separate storylines about intersecting artists who are joined by their passion for music. Sound familiar?
“I STOLE YOUR PENTA WATER,” the first thing i tell André as we break off from the pack is that I drank his specially requested water. He’s thirsty and I took the man’s last bottle from the snack table. He just smiles an easy grin. “Oh,” he says, remembering he has a bottle in the dressing room, “one second.” He runs away and back again with the water, like a kid running into the house to grab a snack. No diva moment, no attitude.
“Who does your hair?” he asks while I fumble with the dictaphone.
“I do,” I say.
“I like it!” he smiles. This man sure knows how to make a girl happy.
He removes his sunglasses, apologizing for keeping them on. Manners, charm, I do declare this is a true southern gentleman.
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