“A lot of people that know me say I have one of the best analog collections they’ve ever seen,” No ID boasts. “From mics to compressors, pres [preamps], synths, and drum machines, I’m an analog gearhead.”
And while he’s not afraid of sampling, he doesn’t want to “be limited by what records I have sitting around.” He composed many of the sounds on From the Private Collection on “old equipment, with the intention of making something that sounds like an old record. It is the same feeling that you go for when you’re sampling. ‘Cause sometimes you take even what you played and you sample it.”
On the one hand, Saba had a hundred beats to choose from. “That’s a daunting task,” No ID muses. “Some people are not interested in listening to that much.”
But on the other hand, No ID’s warm palette of colors also came with some limitations. “ It’s like walking into a film set and getting on the stage and improvising the lines,” Saba explains. “I’m in charge of the lines on this, but the set is the set.” Even before he’d begun, much of the sonic story had been told.
Saba heard bright horns, funky keys, summertime Chi. From the Private Collection of Saba and No ID is not afraid of the dark, but it stands as an optimistic statement. And while the words may have been Saba’s, that optimism seems to reflect No ID’s soundscapes more than the rapper’s mindset.
“I didn’t want to go against the music in any way,” Saba confirms, “and it’s funny because talking about this reminds me that when I did my second album, Care for Me, I went into that studio experience thinking that I was going to make kind of the opposite of the album that I made. Like, ‘I’m here to make some fucking bangers and have fun and just rap,’ and then the music provided me with a different emotion.
“And I feel similarly in this [From the Private Collection], where the music dictates the emotion that I provide. I’m just a part of the scene in that way.”
If you cast No ID as the director of the show, he turned out to be the kind who psychologically probes his subjects. Not in any way cruel or manipulative, but always pushing further.
This barrage of questions soon had the introverted Saba squirming. “I’ll just speak for myself because maybe some people will have these conversations and not be uncomfortable. For me, it was, ‘Why do you do that? Why are you who you are?’ Identity questions, just reflecting on the decisions that you made. ‘Okay, you’re independent? You see yourself as independent?’ It’s a lot of questions about how you actually see yourself.”
“ I’m the person that’ll go, ‘Why?’’ No ID confirms.
The Saba that emerges on From the Private Collection is “an introvert, but I’m popular,” as he cracks on “Every Painting Has a Price.” He bounces through the strutting keys and celebratory horns of “Breakdown,” and on the slinky “Crash” he’s both seductive and seducible.
“How to Impress God” is a self-portrait made of sand, and even as Saba sketches out his accomplishments, he sees them washed away. Over a haunting melody – courtesy of one of the gem’s of No ID’s collection, an Oberheim Four Voice polyphonic synthesizer – Saba ticks off accolades in the boldest terms of his discography to date, only to shrug it all away with, “I heard God say, ‘I’m not impressed.’” Later his old introversion rears its head, and when it comes Saba’s turn to speak for himself, his mic goes silent.
But this is one shadow among the record’s brightly-lit gallery. More common is the exuberance of “Westside Bound Pt. 4,” the swanky strut of “Stomping” or the lush follicular gardens of “head.rap.” Left to his own devices, he might have wallowed in the darkness. Under No ID’s gaze, he cultivated brightness instead.
Saba describes the album experience like working through a darkroom, gradually seeing his own portrait develop. “So much of how you see yourself as a human comes out in the music one way or another,” he tells me. “So I think while some of those conversations can be uncomfortable, they make for the best work. It’s like you reveal yourself to yourself.”
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