Brian Brown is one of the brightest stars in Nashville's ever-expanding hip-hop galaxy. Though the East Sider's long-gestating first LP Journey had the misfortune of being released in January 2020, just before the pandemic practically shut down the music business, the 10-song collection arguably sounds fresher and hits harder after the calamities of the intervening two years.
Lyrically, Journey glances outward (“A Cashville Story,” “Flava”), inward (“Peace,” “Steely Dan”) and upward (“The Release Pt. 2,” “Journey”). Meanwhile, the album’s musical synthesis of gospel, jazz and classic hip-hop — Brown calls Pete Rock & CL Smooth's “They Reminisce Over You” and OutKast's “SpottieOttieDopealiscious” desert-island tracks — grants the understated passion in Brown’s words the requisite time to marinate with the listener.
Before taking the stage Friday at Nashville's National Museum of African American Music (read our review of that right here), the 28-year-old singer-rapper caught up with the Scene for a brief backstage chat.
Almost showtime. How are you feeling?
Just absorbing the energy here in the museum, soaking it all in, practicing my scales before I perform. There's a lot of people out there in that room! [laughs]
Do you have a typical ritual or set of rituals you go through to get centered before a set?
When I started rapping, doing shows at The End, Anthem before they shut down, The Rutledge before it closed … I was just eager, hopping up there. Now there's more anxiety. Before a show, I don't like having people around who aren't important to the matter at hand — getting into the right mental space to give the people what they came to see. I might practice a couple songs, listen to some songs [by others], sometimes smoke to calm my nerves. But I don't drink before I play anymore.
Is there a sense that Black music and culture is coming into its own in Nashville?
Sure. But it's still a fight for visibility, to be heard. Music runs deep here. Before Little Richard passed away, when he was living in the hotel, I used to see his crazy ass at the bus stop. [laughs] To even consider that Nashville has hip-hop might sound far-fetched from the outside looking in, but in reality, what better place could you get it from? Tennessee is the birthplace of so many genres.
We're close to Atlanta, close to the Midwest, the heart of Southern heritage gospel, buckle of the Bible Belt … it all melds together. It's a battle, but we make do with what we got. Representing Nashville, I just want to keep it honest and transparent about the things surrounding me, be as straightforward as possible.
What are you currently working on, and what's the rest of your year looking like?
Feeling a new body of work on the way. Got an EP developing. I won't put a timetable on it, but I'm ready to challenge myself. Who's to say there's nothing new under the sun? I recorded a lot during COVID. Journey dropped, the world stopped. But me and Jet, who mixed Journey, we didn't slow down until late 2021. The gems from that period will be the EP, which we're slowly developing visuals for.
What have your touring experiences been?
I've done SXSW twice … A3C … shows in Atlanta, Kentucky, Alabama. But it's really time to push this thing, so [outsiders] can understand there's more to Nashville.
Is it accurate that live instrumentation and a reverence for older music are things Nashville rap excels at?
Absolutely. I grew up in the church. [Gestures] Nine out of 10 people in that room will say the same. A lot of us played growing up. I played alto sax. In Nashville, it's hard to escape — it's just live music, all the damn time. But it's also hard to beat. How could you not love that crispiness, that echo … that feeling that what's happening could never be replicated again? When I play, I take pride in providing that.
Journey came out in January 2020. Then, all of a sudden …
… the world stopped. So I'm learning these songs, how people respond to them, and how I want to perform them. The album is still in rotation. The game is so fucking out-of-whack now, anyway.
As much as it's changed, you seem to be a believer that a grassroots following in your hometown matters.
A grassroots following anywhere. Early on, we hit college towns: Knoxville, Johnson City, Bowling Green. Those places, you show up once or twice, do what you're supposed to, treat people how you're supposed to, and you'll be straight forever, no matter what. That stuff goes a long way. Being from here too, it's six degrees of separation. Friends will support you because they're your friends, but they'll also support you because they genuinely fuck with you and they'll be honest, tell you what's up, so you can get even better.
I love that about Nashville. I have friends I've sent music to recently who were like, “That's tight,” and I hope they show up tonight. I've also got friends here I've rocked with since elementary school who are like, “How could I not be here? I'm proud of you. You stuck with it.”
Can you recommend some local artists, bands and/or producers who you think deserve more recognition?
Saucyy Slim. She's from here, dropped an EP year before last called Reggie Rocket. That shit's crazy. Neeko Crowe — he's out of Texas but he lives down here, he's pretty damn good. $avvy is the man. I love him a lot. Of course, Reaux Marquez and the whole Black City, Funky Tenn conglomerate, always. Check out everybody: Reaux, OGTHAGAWD, The BlackSon, JosephFiend, Kaby. Ganz and Lil Queze might sound like trap shit to the average listener, but those kids tell vivid stories. DJ Chill, my boy Smokey Hendrixx and Krash Max produce for them a lot. There's too many people I'd like to shout out. There's something for everybody coming out of this town, hip-hop wise.
What would you like to see more of?
Fairness. [laughs] I don't mind the writing sessions, the sync placements. That helps us — there's nothing wrong with it. But if the powers that be have got the money to do that, what's keeping them from figuring out how to properly push us? There should be a piece of the pie for everybody.
