New York’s MIMS has taken steady steps toward a legacy; the staccato seismic “This Is Why I’m Hot” marked a big leap, topping Billboard’s Top 100 from 32 the previous week, third-biggest jump in the chart’s history. The single strode well past platinum, selling 1.6 million digital copies. Additionally, figure in the 2.8 million cell phones ringing to the familiar beat. Note also the gold digital sales of follow up single “Like This,” likewise off 2007 debut album Music Is My Savior. With all the earmarks of superstardom and staying power, MIMS now offers his bubbling new single, the droning, driving “Move if You Wanna,” produced by Chicago’s Da Internz and appearing on sophomore album Guilt, due April 7th. The numbers are deafening. But what do you really know of the man? The monosyllabic swagger perfected on “This Is Why I’m Hot” doesn’t nearly convey the depth and introspection of the artist and the acronym that is MIMS. In fact, he tells his own story with such aplomb that MIMS renders a traditional biography moot. What follows is, in essence, the autobiography of MIMS.
MIMS on how he’s perceived:
I’ll never regret doing “This Is Why I’m Hot,” because without it I’d never have the voice I have now. I’ve achieved a point of success in hip-hop that not many of my peers can say they matched. That said, people listened to that single and automatically decided and defined who MIMS is and what he brings. Had they not used that song to define me, you’d never have heard any gripes that MIMS isn’t lyrical, or that MIMS is a one-hit wonder. I wouldn’t have to defend my musical ability. I did make a mistake on the first album, which was not giving enough insight into who I am. People don’t know all the things I’ve studied in my life: DJing, engineering, production, mixing and mastering. I took jazz classes, piano lessons, and acting lessons. All of that helps my creative process. I will never limit myself. And a lot of people think that’s corny. But I fail to see how any information or knowledge is corny. You have to learn other things to take yourself to a higher position. I’ve seen the block, I’ve experienced it, I know what it’s like. It’s not how I want to spend my time. I never got on the mic talking mass murder because once you do that, you can’t be comical anymore. People won’t take you seriously, and you lose your image. My image represents the majority, it doesn’t cater to a certain perspective. I never want to be looked at in just one way. I want people to speculate about what I’m gonna do next: ‘He might do a pop record; he might do a country record; he might do an alterative record.’ I never close the door on things.
On repping New York while going global:
At some point, people are going to realize that looking at music from a territorial standpoint creates problems, a false prophecy that one individual can change or shift hip-hop for a whole region. I haven’t seen anyone from New York occupy my lane, so I stand clear by very definition. If the world chooses to see me as the new face of New York, I accept that with high honor. But by the same token, I’m only gonna be who I want to be musically, and that’s never broken down to just a single territory. The reason why MIMS is different from whomever they want to compare me to is that I don’t go into different places thinking that I’m better than anyone. I’m just a musician intent on making good music; that way people in LA or the Midwest or the South don’t feel like I’m distancing myself from them. And now, I’m turning a lot of my attention to international audiences, because I feel like there’s a certain purity to hip-hop over there.
On the game:
Music is reverting back to an era when singles mean everything, and the public gets to decide who is or isn’t a credible artist. A lot of artists are scared though, because my career in a lot of ways set that plateau, and singles really have to make a lot of noise to get that artist accepted. I think people will give me the benefit of the doubt via the single, and then they’ll love the albums I put together. And they’ll rediscover Music Is My Savior and be surprised what they’ve overlooked. There are so many variations of hip-hop and where it’s going; as long as you understand your lane and keep trying to perfect your craft, you shouldn’t be concerned with what the next man’s doing. I don’t agree that hip-hop’s dead, far from it. It’s just that people don’t make wise moves about ensuring careers. Meanwhile, people within music aren’t trying to speak from helpful experience, they’re stuck in criticism. People can’t wait to give their input on what they don’t like about a record they just listened to. There’s nothing wrong with constructive criticism, but I can’t stand judgmental people or unnecessary criticism. Before you say anything negative, just skip to the next song.
On naming his new album Guilt:
Guilt was my honest emotion going into recording this project, and I wanted to capture it in one word. For me, it comes from my success over the past two years. I became financially stable in a time where the economy was in a downward spiral. I know people out there are wondering what that has to do with me. The truth is it has everything to do with me. Friends and family were without jobs, going through foreclosures on their houses, while I’m buying big houses and multiple cars. I had to live with it on my conscience, knowing that while I deserve what I get, I’d still wonder ‘Am I going overboard and should I be helping more people instead?’ I also feel the disconnect between hip-hop artists and fans; I feel like the music got so bling-oriented and braggadocious that fans started taking offense. As if rappers were just waving money in the fans’ faces, money those same fans don’t have. There’s nothing wrong with swag rap, don’t get me wrong, and I have some on this album. I just need to moderate it, to reintroduce topics that people can relate to. Records on relationship issues [“Love Rollercoaster” featuring LeToya]; records on my success but the absence of love in my life; records for people who have friends and family fighting overseas; records for people to cope with the loss of a loved one [“One Last Kiss”]; records that satisfy peoples’ club urges [“On & On”].
On Guilt’s groundbreaking collaborations:
I grew up listening to Bob Marley, and I loved his music for being so universal and connecting so many different lives. So I wanted to create a song that might sound like something Bob Marley would do. I’m not trying to give myself too much credit; this is only my interpretation and I was blessed to work with his son Ky-Mani Marley. The song is called “One Day,” produced by the Blackout Movement, the same guys who did “This Is Why I’m Hot.” The theme is that one day, we’re going to figure out how to make everything work. Whatever you’re going through, no matter how bad it is, take an optimistic point of view, because at some point in your life, things will work out. I faced a lot of adversity―I lost both my parents when I was young―but I always kept a positive outlook. That makes me an incredible human being and gives me the ability to go into the music business and deal with the nonsense. I feel like this record is going to define my career as someone who makes music for everyone worldwide. This song can’t be classified as anything other than music for everyone to embrace.
I also did a song with rap duo Nice & Smooth, who inspired me growing up. I feel like other artists aren’t doing the same thing, and it’s the way for the new school and the old school to co-exist. ‘You guys paved the way for me to be here, let me do this record with you and for you.’ I think that every hip-hop artist should do a song with an old school artist, to keep the culture alive for the younger audience as well as pay homage to the people who have come before.
On personal growth:
People use different crutches to take their minds off reality, but to me, that’s what music is supposed to provide emotionally. I like to keep my mind open, my eyes open, I like to stay attentive and observe what’s going on around me. I want to feel others’ pain. I got more involved in the church and philanthropy. I’m getting a better idea of how I can positively contribute to others’ lives. I can’t see myself doing anything else, and forgive me if I’m wrong, or if I don’t represent hip-hop in the right way, but before I’m a hip-hop artist, I’m a fan, and a human being. My insight on life has deepened over the past year-and-a-half because of what I’ve experienced. I don’t want people to look at me like I’m weird, I just want them to accept the fact that I understand what they’re going through and I’m someone they can relate to, and vice versa.
On looking ahead:
I think I’m here for a good reason—to teach a good message—and you’re gonna get music from me that focuses on that. You’ll also get music from me that contradicts that, too. You know why? Because I keep it all the way real. Even the Bible has contradictions. As a musician, I’m teaching myself to go in the studio and document my feelings. Every day I have battles with myself to find the difference between right and wrong, and sometimes I gravitate toward the negative because that’s how I feel. But I try to make sure that at least 90% of the things I do are positive. Two or three years later in looking back, I may have changed my mind, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t mean what I said the day I recorded it. I can give you “Move,” then I can turn around and give you “One Day” with Ky-Mani Marley. Those are two different worlds but they both define me as a man and an artist.