Context is always important but maybe, especially with music. In order to understand where a piece of music is coming from, one needs to see where the person who made it came from. Baton Rouge artist Quadry understands this well. He gave me homework alongside his new music. I needed the context.

“Watch these,” he texted me, before linking two documentaries: Thuggin’ It and Lovin’ It DVD and Lil Boosie: Bad Azz The DVD. Both films were uploaded to YouTube, and over the course of nine years, have each garnered over one million views. The comments are filled with fan adoration and homesickness of a time that once was.

 “It reminded me of an era when I didn’t know as much. Even the stuff they were wearing: Coogi, those shirts with the 9s all over them. I’m inspired by nostalgia a lot, and I try to capture feelings I remember,” Quad told me. But speaking of what he remembers, right around the nine-minute mark of the Lil Boosie documentary, the music fades out and the camera turns to a kid, roughly seven-years-old, who begins to freestyle.

“Once upon a time in a parking lot

A n*gga had a 40 Glock

Oh yeah it’s r*tarded now

Meet me outside the club with the killers on deck

Yeah dawg we’re on Chippewa street right now dawg

If you’re tryna catch us, come right down here.”

Born and raised in Louisiana, Quadry has been rapping for as long as he can remember. But he’s been chasing his dreams as an artist for seven years now, and the ride has been anything but smooth. He has been through his rounds in the music industry and was released by his label right before the pandemic hit.

“Sometimes I lay in bed at night like, “Damn if I did this, I would have done this, I would have done that. Just please take me back.” Quadry was 18-years-old when he decided to pursue music seriously. The artistry has been with him since he was in elementary school, but being geographically locked in Baton Rouge came with its own challenges. Baton Rouge isn’t as well-known for its music scene, compared to music meccas like Atlanta and Los Angeles. There was limited access to affordable recording studios nearby, but on the flip side, Baton Rouge had Rico.

“Rico recorded everybody in Baton Rouge because that was the only person that people could go to. From the top to the bottom, all had to go to Rico,” Through the common ground of Rico, a sense of camaraderie began to form between Baton Rouge musicians. “It hasn’t been like this since maybe 2006, when they first dropped Wipe Me Down and all that shit,” Quadry says. From block to block, there was high praise and pride in being from Baton Rouge with admiration for the leader of the boards at the time, Lil Boosie Badazz. “If you were from Baton Rouge and were in Baton Rouge in that era, you would see Boosie so the TV was coming into your real life.” 

Now, things are a lot different in the area and Quadry is tapping into his memory bank for his upcoming album They Think We Ghetto, starting with his latest single, “Once Upon a Time In The Parking Lot.” It begins with a sample from the Thuggin’ it and Lovin’ It DVD and ends with “The Boondocks” theme song, but the bibliography represents a little more than that. 

The nostalgia stems from living in a different era of Baton Rouge but not the country in general. In a way, much of America’s events have stayed the same. “I always read about history so I could see where it comes from and how it happened. I also see why people would make these stereotypes of this construct of not being fully accepted but fascinated.” At first listen, Quadry’s versatility shows from beat to beat. “I’ve always rapped around and said words on the rhythm,” he told me. But if you get caught up in the allure of the song, you’ll miss a whole song about life and pain. 

I caught up with Quadry on two separate occasions to speak on his new album, a follow-up to his project with Jansport J, Don’t You Weep. “In my mind, it was finished,” he told me about the album. But what I’m learning about Quadry is that even if it’s finished, he’s never really finished. In fact, he has a lot left to say.

SANDY: Yo! What’s up?

QUADRY: Hey, what’s the word?. 

Where are you right now?

My room– my childhood room.

In Baton Rouge?

Yes ma’am. 

Tight, how long have you been out there?

Since May 14 of 2020.

Oh, where did you live before then?

I lived in Los Angeles, like the Woodland Hills part.

What did you think? Very different?

Ummm– Nah not really. It’s the valley because it’s a little bit out the way. It’s almost just as hot. Almost just as cold, I guess. So it’s basically the same thing, you know, squirrels and stuff. 

Is your project They Think We Ghetto an album?

It’s the follow-up to Malik Ruff, the last full-length. Don’t You Weep and the Tuamie album Emergency Raps were–not saying mixtapes, I don’t really like to use that phrase. Everything is a statement–but those are more like detours on the road to where we’re going.. Stops, I guess.

What’s the story behind the name? 

I had signed with Warner Records with a budget to record the album. I made them buy studio equipment for the crib and all that. I made the project in the valley, like 85 percent of it. I got a whiteboard and honestly, it was a lot of different names. Actually, the notebook I’m looking at is where I started coming up with the names. At first, it was Black is Me, then it started turning into a whole bunch of stuff: Years Before, Years After. One day I wrote Live Ghetto Free, Ghetto Live Free, and the connotation of being ghetto, I guess, I found it interesting. Now it’s politically incorrect to say the n-word so it’s a replacement, but it’s also people who don’t like to be in the ghetto or have things that would make people say, “Oh that’s ghetto.” But people love the music of it, people love the –

Like the aesthetic of it.

Girls on Twitter will be so quick to say that they want them a hood n*gga. I tie that with the fascination and the fear, or the disdain and the fascination would also be in what I am as a black person or a black male. It’s a really loaded and layered set of words that even I hadn’t thought of, it’s a well-thought-out concept. I went to my friend DJ Dahi. He’s a well-known producer and I had told him the name They Think We Ghetto and the first thing he asked me was, “Who is ‘they’?” or “Is ‘they’ white people?” No, no, “they” can be anybody. It’s fluid but it’s also a subtle word so it’ll stick and when people read it, their mind will start to calculate who is the ‘they’ or “what does he mean?” I thought that would be good for the title. You can pull your own interpretation of it. 

You touched upon America’s obsession with the image of the Black man and what he represents without fully accepting the Black man. That’s been a recurring topic throughout your songs. What is your view on it?

I’m only 25. Before this interview, I was watching this show from 2006 with Wayne Brady. He was hosting this show, he was with Torré, Paul Mooney, Harry Belafonte, and Diahann Carroll, this actress on a show called “Dynasty” in the ‘80s. I was just watching them talk and these are people who are at the backs of two generations before me. I’m talking about Harry Belafonte, he’s my grandpa’s age. He was explaining the same thing that I’m barely starting to see and feel. That makes me sad but it also makes me hopeful that maybe I can explain it better than James Baldwin and all these amazing people that tried to explain it and analyzed it. It’s a lot of people that I listen to in order to get a better grip on what’s going on out here. 

I’ve always liked history. I always read about history so I could see where it comes from and how it happened. I also see why people would make these stereotypes of this construct of not being fully accepted but fascinated. I see why that was used to keep people pressed to keep people thinking about another thing when we should be thinking about this thing. It is what it is. What did Paul Mooney say? “It was here when I got here, it’s gone be here for sure when I’m gone.” I just try to tell the truth first of all and after I’m done I hope people after me will see that I told the truth and be inspired to tell the truth and so forth. Hopefully, it will get better from this. 

Your songs are cool to listen to but if you’re really paying attention to the lyrics, you’re saying some heavy shit. I probably listened to Don’t You Weep two or three times before I even realized what you were saying. 

That’s my favorite thing with music. My first love is rap music, that’s the first thing that I fell in love with. When you first hear it, it’s not everything that you got from the song. An example of that is “Crack Music” by Kanye and The Game. I first heard it when I was 11, the shit they’re saying went right over. Or you see something happen to somebody or go through your own life experience then it starts to get a little closer to your heart. I definitely love to make music like that and I’m super glad that it’s coming off like that because sometimes we can mean for something to come off like that and it doesn’t. That’s a double whammy.

Did it take time to get your music to hit like that? How would you describe your progression as an artist?

I’ve been rapping all my life, but I didn’t start recording or getting into the studio setting until I was 18 or 19. I’m 25 now, seven or eight years. In the grand scheme of things, that’s not a long time but to me, I feel like, “Oh yeah, I should have blown up two, three years ago.” Honestly, when I look back at it, I’ve done everything that I’ve wanted to do. For any album that came to my mind, I made it. Any video I wanted to do, I did it. I can’t say that I’m supposed to be further along like no, not actually. I didn’t start rapping until– well shit, to be honest, if you’re talking about a real studio it’s different because before at seventeen and nineteen, that was in people’s closet. You know they had studio equipment but it wasn’t a studio.

What was it like when you finally got into that real studio environment?

I didn’t know the difference. I thought the closet was how people made music. You have to understand that I’m from Baton Rouge, it’s a musical place from the blues and things like that but most of that is a live recording, it’s not the studio. There’s not a big studio culture like in Atlanta or New York or LA. There’s not a lot of studios where you can go and get it for cheap. Also, trying to find somewhere to record for cheap led me to Rico, who recorded everybody in Baton Rouge because that was the only person that people could go to. From Youngboy, the top to the bottom, all had to go to Rico. That founded a community. When I went to LA and I found out muthafuckas been rapping like this since they were fifteen or sixteen I was like, “Oh okay, let me stop trying to compare. I’m talented and I’ll get to where I need to be soon enough.” I mean, to me the music isn’t close to where I’d want it to be.

You mean your music now?

Yeah now. I got so much more. I can get so much better. That’s where my head is right now at this moment I feel like I can get so much better. And it’s been like that because a mix of that I really like to rap and a mix of it’s the turn of the decade and I want to make my mark.

What do you feel like you need to do to get there? Is it just more practice or experience, things you need to see?

I think it’s a mix of all three. I haven’t been to a lot of places. There’s definitely a lot that I need to see and could see. I was thinking yesterday, “How can I break through? Is it something I’m not doing? Is it someone I’m not talking to?”. I came to the conclusion that you just have to do your best. Everything after that is if I can go to sleep every day saying that I did my best that I could do today then that’s it.

How did the song go about, “Once Upon a Time in a Parking Lot?”

I heard that beat on Soundcloud from the producer, Yung Milkcrate. Y.U.N.G. Milkcrate. So I heard the beat like a year and a half before I could write to it. I’m like, “Oh this is crazy!” My mind went there. I think I was in the middle of Malik Ruff or some shit. Like my mind just went there. I’m from Baker, Louisiana. Baker is in between Scotlandville and Zachary. So it’s Scotlandville, Baker, and Zachary. The studio I recorded was in Zachary. That’s my friend Joe and DJ Kale’s studio so I went there. I had it written already for like a while. I had it written for at least 4 months before I went and recorded it. I just remembered from that session being really detailed on how I wanted to adlib to the sound. I just remembered being really nitpicky about it and not leave until I got it exactly how I wanted to get it. I think that’s the reason why that song like that’s the oldest song on the project. That was December 2019.

What’s the story behind it? Why’s it called “Once Upon A Time in the Parking Lot?”

Oh, “Once Upon A Time in A Parking Lot.” Hmm…what’s the point in the parking lot? In this video I saw on YouTube, it’s not Thuggin’ it and Lovin’ it. That’s the video of where the beginning clip of the song comes from. The dude talks about he got the Coogi on and he had to go to the mall to get this. There’s another video, I think it’s a Boosie documentary, like Badzz, the 2004 DVD. There’s a little kid in red. The kid is just playing and he’s saying, “Once upon a time in the parking lot, a n*gga had a 40 Glock”. He’s just a seven-year-old and he’s just unconsciously freestyling to a beat. I said it in the rap because the song was originally called Shake the Spot but I said it the song, not knowing where I got it from. You know the type of situation where you write something or do something creative but you unconsciously pulled to something that you’ve seen that’s on another day. Do you see what I’m saying?

The infamy of the DVD, where did it all come from? 

It was a DVD that showed more than one area of the city & it was uploaded to WorldStar. It also had notable people from these different neighborhoods candidly speaking about things they did & that naturally drew the attention of law enforcement. 

You talked a little about the Baton Rouge music scene earlier, how would you describe it right now?

It hasn’t been like this since maybe 2006 when they first dropped “Wipe Me Down” and all that shit.

That was a crazy era.

Just to catch it on BET because it was a rotation. Every day after school I used to run home and turn it quick on the channel. I forget what channel it was, you just had to catch it because that was the first time you could actually see why. If you were from Baton Rouge and you were in Baton Rouge in that era, you would see Boosie so the TV was coming into your real life. That kind of explains why this generation is more resourceful because we can down this from top to bottom. You know a person like NBA Youngboy, he drops a lot of videos and that’s where it comes from.

He drops the most projects out of all of the younger group of rappers right now. 

That’s one strategy or you take somebody else like my friend Caleb Brown, more like me. Every piece is a way of labor and everything has to be perfect. That’s something I want to get out of. I’m leaning more towards that because to me, everything doesn’t have to be perfect in this era. People just want to see, they just want to know that you exist. New fans just want to be enlightened about your existence. 

Artists are very resourceful now because it’s two sides to a coin. There’s the gangsta music, the music of criminality. People call it trap music but out here I hear people play Anita baker while they’re cooking up, you know? It’s the music of struggle, too. Caleb and I were talking about this. It’s like the perspective of the person behind the gun and the person in front of the gun. The perpetrator and the perpetrating. That person and their music are not for victims. It’s pain you know. The flip side of that is the victim side of it or the contemplator’s side. The person that goes home and thinks about what happened and thinks about the process. I guess that’s the best way to describe it but it’s all the same, just a different way of expressing the same emotions. Baton Rouge is just getting to be a relevant locale, just starting. We’re still in its infancy.

Read part two of the interview here.