Flex Mathews: Making Music, Having Fun.

-Jason G.L. Chu
Photo Credit – Magee McIlvaine

“What’s up man, who’s this?”

The first time I hear his voice, it’s tinged ever-so-slightly by a sleepy haze.
Flex Mathews – born Dathan Harbor – is back on the road, on the third day of a month-long
tour with fellow emcee Kosha Dillz to raise support for the recently devastated
Haiti.

The
press pictures I’ve scrounged up show a ferocious, goofy emcee. Even candid
shots never catch him lounging; continuously mugging for the camera, he’s smiling
widely, smirking, tossing up his fists, clowning around with an LP collection. And
flicks of him on the mic are still more energetic: eyes bulging, veins popping,
hands jabbing to punctuate his delivery. He’s confident the crowd’s enjoying the
Flex show, because he’s enjoying the Flex
show.

Even
in still shots, Flex has a sense of magnetic restlessness: Eyes around him seem inexorably drawn to him. His music – the Handsome Grandson EP, emailed me a few
days ago and promptly synced to my iPod – is not only bold, clever, and intricate
(none of which is particularly rare in today’s well-versed hip-hop underground),
but refreshingly humble: he boasts more about his passion than talent, and his
subject matter is grounded in reality, reminiscing on all-night ciphers, favorite
childhood music, and family and friends. The EP boasts a song called Just Gunnen; but Flex gunnen has less to do with popping off
pistols and more with “freestylin nonstop… [with] a CD to sell and 16’s to
drop.”

So
when I hit him up on the phone to start this interview, I’m half expecting a relentlessly
self-promoting narcissist, and half expecting a soft-spoken, even reticent,
emcee. The joke’s on me, of course, because he’s neither.

“At the end of the day, it’s all about me rapping and having fun.”

“Yo
Flex, what up? It’s Jason from Nomadic Wax, this a good time to talk?”

Turns
out it is; I’ve caught him during a lull on tour, and his crew is picking their
way along the road somewhere near Aspen or Vail. As I start launching into my
questions, bringing up the music game, his voice picks up speed, excitement. After
doing music part-time for most of his career, Flex has been a professional artist
for eight months now, leaving a steady hospital job to go full-time into his
musical craft.

Me: “So what makes you put your
voice out there? What do you have to say, what makes you think your art has a
place out there?”

FM: “Man, I’m a kid in a grown man body, making music and having
fun…. Sure, at certain times, I wanted
the big bills, staying large, but at the end of the day, home in my room, as
long as I was rapping and having fun, it really didn’t matter.”

Flex
Mathews isn’t a hip-hop neo-luddite, a backpacker on a quest to save hip-hop from
its evil future self; he’s in the game because the game is fun. I feed him a leading question – what sets your voice apart from other
artists? – and wait for him to bite, to go in on how much iller he is than other
emcees. Instead, he pauses slightly and replies thoughtfully, excitedly. Flex gets
hyped up reminiscing about the old days: “growing up rhyming, there was so many
different emcees. A lot of emcees didn’t have the same style: Guru was Guru,
MOP was MOP, Big Daddy Kane was Big Daddy Kane.” The message is clear: Flex
Mathews’ emceeing isn’t going to be the sort to submit to ready labeling.

If
his style sounds good to you, that’s fine by him; but if not, he’s not going to
talk down on anyone’s tastes either. When he talks about recently listening to
Brother Ali, he’s quick to mention that he doesn’t begrudge Drake his radio
presence, saying the former has “a little more substance… something a little
different,” while giving props to the rising Young Money star: “He’s very
clever, I don’t think you can really deny that he’s a clever dude along the
emcee tip, with the punchlines and things of that nature.”

“It’s important… to have a good catalogue, that can be received different places.”

Speaking
of substance and punchlines, Flex’s own recorded style is a combination of twisting
lyrical barrages supporting a keen storytelling voice. His enunciation has a soft
edge, and I mentally add him to my continuum of emcees beside the more abstract
Mos Def and raw-flowing mid-90s Common. When his vocal pace picks up – and it
often does – words slur by in long, assonant chains. In my first listens to
Flex’s EP, I found his flow taking on a life of its own, and I wound up hitting
the rewind more than once as I picked apart his actual lyrical content, lines alternately
self-deprecating (“I hope she don’t like thugs/ because I’m not a hard cat”) and
clever (“I pray she ain’t a Thundercat/ Thundercat ho-ooooo/ She can be
Cheetara and I’ll be the Liono”).

That
joke-laced flow is a relic of Flex’s growth as an emcee, a reminder of days moving
around as a military brat. Constantly spitting in new environments, Flex came
up by adapting his style, creating a responsive ear for the tastes of different
audiences:

FM: “If I’m a scientist, and I’m rapping on super-scientist stuff or
whatever, I can’t take that flow everywhere…. I could, but I won’t necessarily
be received anywhere else. It’s important for an MC to have a good catalogue,
that can be received different places.

“I learned that from freestyling. Being in mostly white areas
growing up, my punchlines and my rhymes there were relevant there. I had to
learn how to rhyme about my current environment, which they could relate to.
It’s all about knowing the time and the place and all those elements that are
playing a part in what’s going on at that specific moment….”

“Albums are great, they serve their purpose. But to me, freestyling,
I could shake a whole day off. If I had a bad day at work, I could go to a
club, and freestyle for three hours, and truly it could take the whole day away
from me.

“Good doctrine
produces good doctrine, Good habits produce good habits, peace produces peace, love produces love.”

Disarmingly
ecumenical, Flex reserves his laconic scorn for one group: cats who front in
their bars. He distinguishes the craft of emceeing from the task of rapping: “Anybody
can rap from a piece of paper. That’s rapping. To me, emceeing is living what
you speak.” In short: if Flex Mathews raps about freestyling all day, it’s
because he’s out there spitting on the corner. If Flex Mathews is rhyming about
helping the kids, you’d best believe he’s out volunteering.

And
he does, too – having brought up the topic of community building, Flex proves
himself good on his word. He tells me about a DC organization, Words,
Beats, and Life put together by local hip-hoppers who dedicate
themselves to mentoring DC-area kids in rhyming, painting, bboying, and DJing,
even as they guide them through the issues that inevitably arise in the violent
and raw inner city life that sprawls practically in the shadow of Capitol Hill.

Flex
also brings up a more personally relevant project, Hip-Hop Against Human Trafficking, a projected 5-part EP collection
bringing to light the nine billion dollar global business that provides slave labor
and sex workers. I ask Flex what led him to take on such a project, fearing that
I’m going to unearth a personal tragedy; but instead, we break down one of my
favorite flicks, Taken, geeking out together
over the cathartic glee of Liam Neeson’s black ops agent tracking down his kidnapped
daughter and, in the process, straight up
tearing apart the men who sold her into sex slavery. But after a few minutes,
Flex turns sober:

FM: “You can’t tell me that you walk into the Red Light District and find
some 15-year-old girl who wants to have sex with an 80-year-old man. I’m not
buyin it… These girls are stolen.

“I was really driven to want to say something, I didn’t want to do
rap music about it, I wanted to do something more direct, more in the now. Then
I calmed down and was like, let me act with my strong point first.”

Right.
Watch a movie, get inspired – and start a long-term awareness project. All in the
emcee job description.

As
we build, I’m noticing Flex’s communal
approach to hip-hop: other artists might claim to be leaders, but he wants to gather
leaders. When I ask about his plans for activism, Flex downplays his own
importance, pointing to “those who are truly in the trenches… people who are
really out there on the regular. When we are asleep, they are on the grind for
human trafficking.”

At
this point, Flex Mathews’ mobile signal goes dead, a victim of the wilderness
cell phone network of western Colorado. I head out to run some Saturday afternoon
errands, still bumping the Handsome
Grandson EP in my iPod.

“Having a blast out here, man!”

It’s
Monday before Flex and I connect on the phone again. On my way in to work, I
shoot him a text – “you up to finish the interview? holla @ me whenever” – and
my Nokia is ringing before I reach my desk. This time, he doesn’t sound hazy at
all; keen and eager to talk, Flex is riding high on a weekend of shows in Colorado
and Utah.

I
say that I’ve been bumping his album all weekend, noticing a clear direction in
the EP’s production. The project fits together in a breezy mix of jazz and
boom-bap samples, feeling like a record by
an old hip-hop head for an old head. Several
of the beats quote, sample, or lift album cuts from rappers you don’t know
unless you know: All Night is spit over a Madvillain (Madlib/MF DOOM) beat, and I catch
Jedi Mind Tricks lying under another track. Reminisce,
a mid-album song, seems to sum up Flex’s œuvre: the title, the lyrics, and the
beat – a melody line from the pseudo-80s by way of Napoleon Dynamite – all work
together to pull the audience into the Flex Mathews Hip-Hop Experience, a
reverse Being John Malkovich.

The Handsome
Grandson EP makes another thing clear: Flex isn’t afraid of giving his DJ a
little shine. Or a lot: on Catwoman, he
drops a final bar, “listen to my DJ scratch,” and a cat’s meow breaks in, to be
chopped up, spun back, and stuttered for the entirety of a feline-themed breakdown.
Within the first seconds of intro track R.O.Y.
(Rookie of the Year), DJ GeeDubz’ scratches cut up the remix, and Flex is
careful to support the other elements of hip-hop: “Oh yeah, man, you’ve got to
have your four elements, that’s the basis right there, the foundation for
everything, the whole culture.”

Refreshingly,
Flex doesn’t hold that respect back from other emcees, either. Other artists I
know revel in distancing themselves from hip-hop fandom, either too cool, too post-hip-hop,
or too much the artiste. But Flex
basks in hip-hop nerditry: on The Blue
Line, the EP’s fourth track, he spits a dizzying slew of references to
other artists, including De La Soul, Redman & Method Man, and Duck Down
Records’ OGC in four or five bars. But rather than an unimaginative name-dropper
(cough*The Game*cough), he comes off as a rap connoisseur, still awed to be watching
the game from the field instead of the bleachers. When I ask him to name his
top influences, he jumps to your favorite rapper’s favorite rappers: “Big L had
delivery, style, cadence, personality. Big L was the emcee’s MC…. Redman too,
Redman was big to me.”

“that’s what I love, that’s what I live,
that’s what I like.”

I
know that Flex isn’t afraid to be real – but I’m still curious about the Handsome Grandson moniker he goes by.
It’s telling, I think, that he chooses to identify himself as a grandson rather
than a father, lover, husband, or even brother. After all, while he devotes several
songs on the EP to flirtatious advances at hypothetical female partners, Flex’s
Lover persona is a winking, roguish scamp, more Bart Simpson than Big Poppa.
He’s not the kid only a mother could love – he’s the kind of kid your mother could love.

Me: “Yo Flex, a lot of cats in the
game these days are just hard, hard, hard all day long. But you have this more family-friendly
persona. How does that work out?”

FM: “I’m definitely not a hard cat. I like rapping, you know? …Growing
up I did wild things with my friends… growing up into adulthood, expressing
ourselves, we all have that to some degree…. But that’s about it. I was never
out there trying to be a thug…. I knew thugs, but there was a clear difference between
them and I. They was still my friends, I have love for them…. [My music] may
come off as silly, but at the same time, if the whole world was serious, it
wouldn’t be any fun if the whole world was serious”

And
we’re back on the topic of making music and having fun – not compatible, but identical pursuits in Flex’s eyes: “I’ll
make a silly song because it’s fun. I’ll make a song ‘bout how I hate to go to
the mall with girls… I’ll make a song about that because, that’s what I love,
that’s what I live, that’s what I like.” I mention how his clear comfort with the
role of jokester, jester, and entertainer (Flex tips me a verbal nod – “uh-huh,
yea”) reminds me of a slimmer – much slimmer – Biz Markie. Flex responds
respectfully: “Biz Markie? He’s one of the greats!”

Like
the Biz, Flex Mathews is a professional
joker, a topic that comes up again later, when I ask him where he got his rap
name:

FM: “The name was a bit of a joke… a panic-stricken moment I needed to
be quick on my toes to work out.

“Me and my friends in high school were hanging out at smokers’
corner where we would rap, we would freestyle. Me and my friends were late
coming to class, and the hall monitor caught us… and my friend gave his name,
his real name! And I was a bit of a class clown, so I said Flex, and she said, ‘Flex
what?’,

like expecting that I couldn’t make up a last name. So I had to be
quick, and I said Mathews, and she said, OK, Mr. Mathews, you report to
detention at 2:50.

“I couldn’t tell my friends, because in high school your friends are
idiots, and I knew that if I explained the situation to them, you know how fast
that would have got around the school? That would have got around real quick,
and so I kind of kept it to myself.”

Me: “[laughs] Did you cringe and
like try to stay unnoticed for the rest of high school? By this hall monitor?”

FM: “Nah, no, actually she was pretty cool to me after a while, we got
along. Yeah [laughs].”

“before
rapper, before emcee, before jokester, before best friend. I’m a Christian man first and foremost.”

Flex
likes to get along with people – and, it seems, it’s not from some need for
affirmation, but because he genuinely likes
people. And while we haven’t yet
touched on it, I’m suspecting that it has something to do with the beliefs that
have been hinted at as we talk about his upbringing and doctrine.

Of
course, many rappers – A-listers like DMX, T.I., and Kanye West, along with
lesser-known rappers like LMNO and Lecrae – have prominently promoted faith on wax, but
many have demonstrated questionable follow-through in their personal lives. While I know he’s a military brat, I’ve also heard
Flex drop hints about his parents’ occupation (“son of a pastor”), and read
interviews where he touches on his own faith. So when it comes up in
conversation, I’m ready to listen to Flex speak on his personal beliefs and their
role in his growth.

FM: “Yeah, man, both me and my parents are preachers. [But] being
raised Christian, growing up I hated church…. People say hate is a strong word,
but when you a kid it’s easy to hate something. When your parents make you do
something…. they made me go.”

Me: “Yeah, I feel you, I definitely
know that process. How did you move forward from there?”

FM: “I remember when I got deep into my faith…. I was going to be a
Muslim, a Buddhist, a Hindu, a whole bunch of other things before I sat down
and said, let me really take this Christian thing seriously. I read up on a
whole lot of other things, I wanted to just find the true word of the Most High,
I sat down and read, and this is what spoke to me the most.”

“I never want to be a dumb Christian, you know? ….Many people
believe in God, that don’t mean they do right, or are equipped to tell you
about Christianity or about the Word.

“Early, when I was young, 21 or 22, I would get into conversations…
and I couldn’t support myself, because I was just believing, not just studying,
believing without understanding…. So that was my fault, because I didn’t know enough, I didn’t read, I
didn’t study…. And that’s what had driven me to stay focused and study the
Bible in as many aspects as I can.”

“I’m a Christian man before anything, before rapper, before emcee,
before jokester, before best friend. I’m a Christian man first and foremost…. To
quote a Mos Def line, ‘I give a damn if any fam recall my legacy, I’m tryna live
light in the sight of God’s memory.’ [from Black Star’s Thieves in the Night].”

Me: “Yeah, that’s dope. Now, I’ve
heard some, I know there’s Christian rap out there, but honestly – I mean, I’m
a man of faith – but a lot of it is kind of corny.”

FM: “Yeah! Corny. I’m working on this Gospel hip-hop project, and that’s
why it’s taking me so long to do this. Because I don’t want it to be corny…. There’s
been some good ones out there, Cross Movement, The Ambassador… [but] there’s
some Gospel hip-hop that I am not feeling…. So it’s taking me a while to do
this project. I want it to be a good, dope, hip-hop project.”

Me: “What about when you’re out on
tour with Kosha? I know he represents the Jewish culture very proudly, very strong…
do yall ever speak about religion, that kind of thing?”

FM: “You know, Kosha is Orthodox Jewish, he’s observant, but he
respects my views and I respect his….

“People don’t see everything the way you see it. And I think, if the
world would just acknowledge that – you aren’t everybody and everybody ain’t
you – the world would be a better place.

“Christianity springs out of Judaism. Without the Jewish people,
there would be no Bible, no Jesus, no Christianity. You can’t not acknowledge
it. That’s like trying to say RUN-DMC didn’t guide the eyes of commercial
America to hip-hop music.”

“peace… peace…
peace… peace… peace… peace… all praises
due.”

At
this point, Flex is vibing – I envision him in Utah, animated as he chills in a
tour hotel, palm jabbing in the air unraveling his philosophy with the same prodigal
ease that has carried him through emcee battles and rock tour stages. We could
keep kicking around thoughts, but it’s almost time to bounce, though, so I run
a few closing topics by him.

In
a few pictures, I’ve noticed Flex wearing caps from The Hundreds and MAJOR DC, one
of the capital’s premier streetwear boutiques; I ask him if he’s into sneaker
culture, any particular street brands. He chuckles – which, I’ve concluded, makes
it a good bet that Flex is reminiscing – and mentions hip-hop brand DURKL (“some
really stand-up guys…. Any time I go off on tour, they tell me to come through
and they bless me with some gear…. cats have been sweatin it!”) and, yes, MAJOR:
“My homey DJ Underdog helped found the store; and Ducky, those are my boys…. DJ
Underdog used to be my DJ, when I opened up for Lupe Fiasco, he would bring me
out. So it’s family…. Major’s a good store. I like Major.”

If
I this were a face-to-face interview, I’d probably give Flex a pound, or maybe
a dap; but he’s located at points unknown in Utah, and I’m in New Haven, so I say
peace and ask him for any last shout-outs:

FM: “Peace to my boys Federation, I’ll be in it til I die.

“Peace to my brother Jehosaphat, my brother KASH, my brother Leo.

“Peace to Kosha Dillz, peace to South Dakota, to everybody in the
605 area code, all of the DMV.

“Peace to Nomadic Wax – my boys Magee and Ben…– and peace to my mom
for raising me right and all praises to the Most High.”

Flex
Mathews can be reached on myspace and twitter: http://www.myspace.com/flexmathews
and http://www.twitter.com/flexmathews,
and The Handsome Grandson EP is available for download online.

The
Heroes for Haiti tour with Flex
Mathews and Kosha Dillz runs until March 1.

Feb
5th Abbey Pub w/ DJ Yoda – Chicago, IL

Feb 6th Raging Buffalo Resort w/ Slick Rick – Algonquin, IL

Feb 7th Yacht Club – Iowa Ciy, IA

Feb 8th Vaudevilles Mews – Des Moines, IA

Feb 9th Vaudevilles Mews w/ Trevor hall (early show) – Des Moines, IA

Feb 9th Peoples w/ Skee Lo – Des Moines, IA

Feb 10th Firebird – St Louis, MO

Feb 12th Nutty’s North w/ Mr Dibbs – Sioux Falls , SD

Feb 13th Reptile Palace – Oshkosh, WI

Feb 14th Schubas w/ Trevor hall – Chicago IL

Feb 15th Day Trotter – Rock Island, IL

Feb 19th Jewlicious Festival – Long Beach, CA

Feb 20th Jewlicious Festival – Long Beach, CA

Feb 21st Jewlicious Festival – Long Beach, CA

Feb 25th Pipeline Cafe w/ Matisyahu – Honolulu, HI

Feb 27th Kuhio Lounge w/ Matisyahu – Kapaa, HI

Feb 28th Lahaina Civic Center w/ Matisyahu – Lahaina, HI

Mar 1st Rockstarz w/ Matisyahu – Kailua Kona, HI

Flex Mathews: Making Music, Having Fun.

-Jason G.L. Chu
Photo Credit – Magee McIlvaine

“What’s up man, who’s this?”

The first time I hear his voice, it’s tinged ever-so-slightly by a sleepy haze.
Flex Mathews – born Dathan Harbor – is back on the road, on the third day of a month-long
tour with fellow emcee Kosha Dillz to raise support for the recently devastated
Haiti.

The
press pictures I’ve scrounged up show a ferocious, goofy emcee. Even candid
shots never catch him lounging; continuously mugging for the camera, he’s smiling
widely, smirking, tossing up his fists, clowning around with an LP collection. And
flicks of him on the mic are still more energetic: eyes bulging, veins popping,
hands jabbing to punctuate his delivery. He’s confident the crowd’s enjoying the
Flex show, because he’s enjoying the Flex
show.

Even
in still shots, Flex has a sense of magnetic restlessness: Eyes around him seem inexorably drawn to him. His music – the Handsome Grandson EP, emailed me a few
days ago and promptly synced to my iPod – is not only bold, clever, and intricate
(none of which is particularly rare in today’s well-versed hip-hop underground),
but refreshingly humble: he boasts more about his passion than talent, and his
subject matter is grounded in reality, reminiscing on all-night ciphers, favorite
childhood music, and family and friends. The EP boasts a song called Just Gunnen; but Flex gunnen has less to do with popping off
pistols and more with “freestylin nonstop… [with] a CD to sell and 16’s to
drop.”

So
when I hit him up on the phone to start this interview, I’m half expecting a relentlessly
self-promoting narcissist, and half expecting a soft-spoken, even reticent,
emcee. The joke’s on me, of course, because he’s neither.

“At the end of the day, it’s all about me rapping and having fun.”

“Yo
Flex, what up? It’s Jason from Nomadic Wax, this a good time to talk?”

Turns
out it is; I’ve caught him during a lull on tour, and his crew is picking their
way along the road somewhere near Aspen or Vail. As I start launching into my
questions, bringing up the music game, his voice picks up speed, excitement. After
doing music part-time for most of his career, Flex has been a professional artist
for eight months now, leaving a steady hospital job to go full-time into his
musical craft.

Me: “So what makes you put your
voice out there? What do you have to say, what makes you think your art has a
place out there?”

FM: “Man, I’m a kid in a grown man body, making music and having
fun…. Sure, at certain times, I wanted
the big bills, staying large, but at the end of the day, home in my room, as
long as I was rapping and having fun, it really didn’t matter.”

Flex
Mathews isn’t a hip-hop neo-luddite, a backpacker on a quest to save hip-hop from
its evil future self; he’s in the game because the game is fun. I feed him a leading question – what sets your voice apart from other
artists? – and wait for him to bite, to go in on how much iller he is than other
emcees. Instead, he pauses slightly and replies thoughtfully, excitedly. Flex gets
hyped up reminiscing about the old days: “growing up rhyming, there was so many
different emcees. A lot of emcees didn’t have the same style: Guru was Guru,
MOP was MOP, Big Daddy Kane was Big Daddy Kane.” The message is clear: Flex
Mathews’ emceeing isn’t going to be the sort to submit to ready labeling.

If
his style sounds good to you, that’s fine by him; but if not, he’s not going to
talk down on anyone’s tastes either. When he talks about recently listening to
Brother Ali, he’s quick to mention that he doesn’t begrudge Drake his radio
presence, saying the former has “a little more substance… something a little
different,” while giving props to the rising Young Money star: “He’s very
clever, I don’t think you can really deny that he’s a clever dude along the
emcee tip, with the punchlines and things of that nature.”

“It’s important… to have a good catalogue, that can be received different places.”

Speaking
of substance and punchlines, Flex’s own recorded style is a combination of twisting
lyrical barrages supporting a keen storytelling voice. His enunciation has a soft
edge, and I mentally add him to my continuum of emcees beside the more abstract
Mos Def and raw-flowing mid-90s Common. When his vocal pace picks up – and it
often does – words slur by in long, assonant chains. In my first listens to
Flex’s EP, I found his flow taking on a life of its own, and I wound up hitting
the rewind more than once as I picked apart his actual lyrical content, lines alternately
self-deprecating (“I hope she don’t like thugs/ because I’m not a hard cat”) and
clever (“I pray she ain’t a Thundercat/ Thundercat ho-ooooo/ She can be
Cheetara and I’ll be the Liono”).

That
joke-laced flow is a relic of Flex’s growth as an emcee, a reminder of days moving
around as a military brat. Constantly spitting in new environments, Flex came
up by adapting his style, creating a responsive ear for the tastes of different
audiences:

FM: “If I’m a scientist, and I’m rapping on super-scientist stuff or
whatever, I can’t take that flow everywhere…. I could, but I won’t necessarily
be received anywhere else. It’s important for an MC to have a good catalogue,
that can be received different places.

“I learned that from freestyling. Being in mostly white areas
growing up, my punchlines and my rhymes there were relevant there. I had to
learn how to rhyme about my current environment, which they could relate to.
It’s all about knowing the time and the place and all those elements that are
playing a part in what’s going on at that specific moment….”

“Albums are great, they serve their purpose. But to me, freestyling,
I could shake a whole day off. If I had a bad day at work, I could go to a
club, and freestyle for three hours, and truly it could take the whole day away
from me.

“Good doctrine
produces good doctrine, Good habits produce good habits, peace produces peace, love produces love.”

Disarmingly
ecumenical, Flex reserves his laconic scorn for one group: cats who front in
their bars. He distinguishes the craft of emceeing from the task of rapping: “Anybody
can rap from a piece of paper. That’s rapping. To me, emceeing is living what
you speak.” In short: if Flex Mathews raps about freestyling all day, it’s
because he’s out there spitting on the corner. If Flex Mathews is rhyming about
helping the kids, you’d best believe he’s out volunteering.

And
he does, too – having brought up the topic of community building, Flex proves
himself good on his word. He tells me about a DC organization, Words,
Beats, and Life put together by local hip-hoppers who dedicate
themselves to mentoring DC-area kids in rhyming, painting, bboying, and DJing,
even as they guide them through the issues that inevitably arise in the violent
and raw inner city life that sprawls practically in the shadow of Capitol Hill.

Flex
also brings up a more personally relevant project, Hip-Hop Against Human Trafficking, a projected 5-part EP collection
bringing to light the nine billion dollar global business that provides slave labor
and sex workers. I ask Flex what led him to take on such a project, fearing that
I’m going to unearth a personal tragedy; but instead, we break down one of my
favorite flicks, Taken, geeking out together
over the cathartic glee of Liam Neeson’s black ops agent tracking down his kidnapped
daughter and, in the process, straight up
tearing apart the men who sold her into sex slavery. But after a few minutes,
Flex turns sober:

FM: “You can’t tell me that you walk into the Red Light District and find
some 15-year-old girl who wants to have sex with an 80-year-old man. I’m not
buyin it… These girls are stolen.

“I was really driven to want to say something, I didn’t want to do
rap music about it, I wanted to do something more direct, more in the now. Then
I calmed down and was like, let me act with my strong point first.”

Right.
Watch a movie, get inspired – and start a long-term awareness project. All in the
emcee job description.

As
we build, I’m noticing Flex’s communal
approach to hip-hop: other artists might claim to be leaders, but he wants to gather
leaders. When I ask about his plans for activism, Flex downplays his own
importance, pointing to “those who are truly in the trenches… people who are
really out there on the regular. When we are asleep, they are on the grind for
human trafficking.”

At
this point, Flex Mathews’ mobile signal goes dead, a victim of the wilderness
cell phone network of western Colorado. I head out to run some Saturday afternoon
errands, still bumping the Handsome
Grandson EP in my iPod.

“Having a blast out here, man!”

It’s
Monday before Flex and I connect on the phone again. On my way in to work, I
shoot him a text – “you up to finish the interview? holla @ me whenever” – and
my Nokia is ringing before I reach my desk. This time, he doesn’t sound hazy at
all; keen and eager to talk, Flex is riding high on a weekend of shows in Colorado
and Utah.

I
say that I’ve been bumping his album all weekend, noticing a clear direction in
the EP’s production. The project fits together in a breezy mix of jazz and
boom-bap samples, feeling like a record by
an old hip-hop head for an old head. Several
of the beats quote, sample, or lift album cuts from rappers you don’t know
unless you know: All Night is spit over a Madvillain (Madlib/MF DOOM) beat, and I catch
Jedi Mind Tricks lying under another track. Reminisce,
a mid-album song, seems to sum up Flex’s œuvre: the title, the lyrics, and the
beat – a melody line from the pseudo-80s by way of Napoleon Dynamite – all work
together to pull the audience into the Flex Mathews Hip-Hop Experience, a
reverse Being John Malkovich.

The Handsome
Grandson EP makes another thing clear: Flex isn’t afraid of giving his DJ a
little shine. Or a lot: on Catwoman, he
drops a final bar, “listen to my DJ scratch,” and a cat’s meow breaks in, to be
chopped up, spun back, and stuttered for the entirety of a feline-themed breakdown.
Within the first seconds of intro track R.O.Y.
(Rookie of the Year), DJ GeeDubz’ scratches cut up the remix, and Flex is
careful to support the other elements of hip-hop: “Oh yeah, man, you’ve got to
have your four elements, that’s the basis right there, the foundation for
everything, the whole culture.”

Refreshingly,
Flex doesn’t hold that respect back from other emcees, either. Other artists I
know revel in distancing themselves from hip-hop fandom, either too cool, too post-hip-hop,
or too much the artiste. But Flex
basks in hip-hop nerditry: on The Blue
Line, the EP’s fourth track, he spits a dizzying slew of references to
other artists, including De La Soul, Redman & Method Man, and Duck Down
Records’ OGC in four or five bars. But rather than an unimaginative name-dropper
(cough*The Game*cough), he comes off as a rap connoisseur, still awed to be watching
the game from the field instead of the bleachers. When I ask him to name his
top influences, he jumps to your favorite rapper’s favorite rappers: “Big L had
delivery, style, cadence, personality. Big L was the emcee’s MC…. Redman too,
Redman was big to me.”

“that’s what I love, that’s what I live,
that’s what I like.”

I
know that Flex isn’t afraid to be real – but I’m still curious about the Handsome Grandson moniker he goes by.
It’s telling, I think, that he chooses to identify himself as a grandson rather
than a father, lover, husband, or even brother. After all, while he devotes several
songs on the EP to flirtatious advances at hypothetical female partners, Flex’s
Lover persona is a winking, roguish scamp, more Bart Simpson than Big Poppa.
He’s not the kid only a mother could love – he’s the kind of kid your mother could love.

Me: “Yo Flex, a lot of cats in the
game these days are just hard, hard, hard all day long. But you have this more family-friendly
persona. How does that work out?”

FM: “I’m definitely not a hard cat. I like rapping, you know? …Growing
up I did wild things with my friends… growing up into adulthood, expressing
ourselves, we all have that to some degree…. But that’s about it. I was never
out there trying to be a thug…. I knew thugs, but there was a clear difference between
them and I. They was still my friends, I have love for them…. [My music] may
come off as silly, but at the same time, if the whole world was serious, it
wouldn’t be any fun if the whole world was serious”

And
we’re back on the topic of making music and having fun – not compatible, but identical pursuits in Flex’s eyes: “I’ll
make a silly song because it’s fun. I’ll make a song ‘bout how I hate to go to
the mall with girls… I’ll make a song about that because, that’s what I love,
that’s what I live, that’s what I like.” I mention how his clear comfort with the
role of jokester, jester, and entertainer (Flex tips me a verbal nod – “uh-huh,
yea”) reminds me of a slimmer – much slimmer – Biz Markie. Flex responds
respectfully: “Biz Markie? He’s one of the greats!”

Like
the Biz, Flex Mathews is a professional
joker, a topic that comes up again later, when I ask him where he got his rap
name:

FM: “The name was a bit of a joke… a panic-stricken moment I needed to
be quick on my toes to work out.

“Me and my friends in high school were hanging out at smokers’
corner where we would rap, we would freestyle. Me and my friends were late
coming to class, and the hall monitor caught us… and my friend gave his name,
his real name! And I was a bit of a class clown, so I said Flex, and she said, ‘Flex
what?’,

like expecting that I couldn’t make up a last name. So I had to be
quick, and I said Mathews, and she said, OK, Mr. Mathews, you report to
detention at 2:50.

“I couldn’t tell my friends, because in high school your friends are
idiots, and I knew that if I explained the situation to them, you know how fast
that would have got around the school? That would have got around real quick,
and so I kind of kept it to myself.”

Me: “[laughs] Did you cringe and
like try to stay unnoticed for the rest of high school? By this hall monitor?”

FM: “Nah, no, actually she was pretty cool to me after a while, we got
along. Yeah [laughs].”

“before
rapper, before emcee, before jokester, before best friend. I’m a Christian man first and foremost.”

Flex
likes to get along with people – and, it seems, it’s not from some need for
affirmation, but because he genuinely likes
people. And while we haven’t yet
touched on it, I’m suspecting that it has something to do with the beliefs that
have been hinted at as we talk about his upbringing and doctrine.

Of
course, many rappers – A-listers like DMX, T.I., and Kanye West, along with
lesser-known rappers like LMNO and Lecrae – have prominently promoted faith on wax, but
many have demonstrated questionable follow-through in their personal lives. While I know he’s a military brat, I’ve also heard
Flex drop hints about his parents’ occupation (“son of a pastor”), and read
interviews where he touches on his own faith. So when it comes up in
conversation, I’m ready to listen to Flex speak on his personal beliefs and their
role in his growth.

FM: “Yeah, man, both me and my parents are preachers. [But] being
raised Christian, growing up I hated church…. People say hate is a strong word,
but when you a kid it’s easy to hate something. When your parents make you do
something…. they made me go.”

Me: “Yeah, I feel you, I definitely
know that process. How did you move forward from there?”

FM: “I remember when I got deep into my faith…. I was going to be a
Muslim, a Buddhist, a Hindu, a whole bunch of other things before I sat down
and said, let me really take this Christian thing seriously. I read up on a
whole lot of other things, I wanted to just find the true word of the Most High,
I sat down and read, and this is what spoke to me the most.”

“I never want to be a dumb Christian, you know? ….Many people
believe in God, that don’t mean they do right, or are equipped to tell you
about Christianity or about the Word.

“Early, when I was young, 21 or 22, I would get into conversations…
and I couldn’t support myself, because I was just believing, not just studying,
believing without understanding…. So that was my fault, because I didn’t know enough, I didn’t read, I
didn’t study…. And that’s what had driven me to stay focused and study the
Bible in as many aspects as I can.”

“I’m a Christian man before anything, before rapper, before emcee,
before jokester, before best friend. I’m a Christian man first and foremost…. To
quote a Mos Def line, ‘I give a damn if any fam recall my legacy, I’m tryna live
light in the sight of God’s memory.’ [from Black Star’s Thieves in the Night].”

Me: “Yeah, that’s dope. Now, I’ve
heard some, I know there’s Christian rap out there, but honestly – I mean, I’m
a man of faith – but a lot of it is kind of corny.”

FM: “Yeah! Corny. I’m working on this Gospel hip-hop project, and that’s
why it’s taking me so long to do this. Because I don’t want it to be corny…. There’s
been some good ones out there, Cross Movement, The Ambassador… [but] there’s
some Gospel hip-hop that I am not feeling…. So it’s taking me a while to do
this project. I want it to be a good, dope, hip-hop project.”

Me: “What about when you’re out on
tour with Kosha? I know he represents the Jewish culture very proudly, very strong…
do yall ever speak about religion, that kind of thing?”

FM: “You know, Kosha is Orthodox Jewish, he’s observant, but he
respects my views and I respect his….

“People don’t see everything the way you see it. And I think, if the
world would just acknowledge that – you aren’t everybody and everybody ain’t
you – the world would be a better place.

“Christianity springs out of Judaism. Without the Jewish people,
there would be no Bible, no Jesus, no Christianity. You can’t not acknowledge
it. That’s like trying to say RUN-DMC didn’t guide the eyes of commercial
America to hip-hop music.”

“peace… peace…
peace… peace… peace… peace… all praises
due.”

At
this point, Flex is vibing – I envision him in Utah, animated as he chills in a
tour hotel, palm jabbing in the air unraveling his philosophy with the same prodigal
ease that has carried him through emcee battles and rock tour stages. We could
keep kicking around thoughts, but it’s almost time to bounce, though, so I run
a few closing topics by him.

In
a few pictures, I’ve noticed Flex wearing caps from The Hundreds and MAJOR DC, one
of the capital’s premier streetwear boutiques; I ask him if he’s into sneaker
culture, any particular street brands. He chuckles – which, I’ve concluded, makes
it a good bet that Flex is reminiscing – and mentions hip-hop brand DURKL (“some
really stand-up guys…. Any time I go off on tour, they tell me to come through
and they bless me with some gear…. cats have been sweatin it!”) and, yes, MAJOR:
“My homey DJ Underdog helped found the store; and Ducky, those are my boys…. DJ
Underdog used to be my DJ, when I opened up for Lupe Fiasco, he would bring me
out. So it’s family…. Major’s a good store. I like Major.”

If
I this were a face-to-face interview, I’d probably give Flex a pound, or maybe
a dap; but he’s located at points unknown in Utah, and I’m in New Haven, so I say
peace and ask him for any last shout-outs:

FM: “Peace to my boys Federation, I’ll be in it til I die.

“Peace to my brother Jehosaphat, my brother KASH, my brother Leo.

“Peace to Kosha Dillz, peace to South Dakota, to everybody in the
605 area code, all of the DMV.

“Peace to Nomadic Wax – my boys Magee and Ben…– and peace to my mom
for raising me right and all praises to the Most High.”

Flex
Mathews can be reached on myspace and twitter: http://www.myspace.com/flexmathews
and http://www.twitter.com/flexmathews,
and The Handsome Grandson EP is available for download online.

The
Heroes for Haiti tour with Flex
Mathews and Kosha Dillz runs until March 1.

Feb
5th Abbey Pub w/ DJ Yoda – Chicago, IL

Feb 6th Raging Buffalo Resort w/ Slick Rick – Algonquin, IL

Feb 7th Yacht Club – Iowa Ciy, IA

Feb 8th Vaudevilles Mews – Des Moines, IA

Feb 9th Vaudevilles Mews w/ Trevor hall (early show) – Des Moines, IA

Feb 9th Peoples w/ Skee Lo – Des Moines, IA

Feb 10th Firebird – St Louis, MO

Feb 12th Nutty’s North w/ Mr Dibbs – Sioux Falls , SD

Feb 13th Reptile Palace – Oshkosh, WI

Feb 14th Schubas w/ Trevor hall – Chicago IL

Feb 15th Day Trotter – Rock Island, IL

Feb 19th Jewlicious Festival – Long Beach, CA

Feb 20th Jewlicious Festival – Long Beach, CA

Feb 21st Jewlicious Festival – Long Beach, CA

Feb 25th Pipeline Cafe w/ Matisyahu – Honolulu, HI

Feb 27th Kuhio Lounge w/ Matisyahu – Kapaa, HI

Feb 28th Lahaina Civic Center w/ Matisyahu – Lahaina, HI

Mar 1st Rockstarz w/ Matisyahu – Kailua Kona, HI