The first time I saw Cletus Strap perform, in West Oakland, he wasn’t rapping—he was behind the drums. For most of his life, he had found himself in the same position, most recently sitting in with the band Sparker at Lauren Halsey’s Jazz Jam at the Summa Everythang Community Center. Drums are the backbone of a song; the Inglewood native describes drumming as similar to rapping. “[With] drums, you’re finding notes in between the beat,” he says. “You’re trying to fit as many beats in between your time signature. So it’s kinda like that with syllables.” This summer, Cletus stepped from behind the set and into the spotlight, releasing his eighth studio album (and first on Earl Sweatshirt’s Tan Cressida Records), rappers suck. In his music, his relaxed monotone voice guides listeners through the seeming mundanities of life.
Freshly back from a trip to New York, where he performed songs from the new album, Cletus is breaking down and rolling his weed as the Los Angeles sun shines through his apartment window. The songs about his life in L.A. translated beautifully to the New York audience. “I’m not really surprised they fuck with it,” he says. “I always had a bigger picture of getting this shit out to more people.”
This broader listenership has taken Cletus, a naturally shy person, places he never thought possible. As the eldest brother, he was used to facilitating things for those around him get attention, and that bled into his creative life. It wasn’t until he saw the power of being himself in his life and music simultaneously that he realized the potential he had as an artist.
“My life experiences, my feelings, conversations that I’m having,” he says—it all gets filtered through the writing and production of his records. “So, there’s really no masking with the music or the messages I’m conveying.” Cletus’s music is made for people like him. He explores the feeling of being taken for granted, ruminating on unalterable decisions, moving through the world with a cultivated calm between bouts of depression—and COINTELPRO.
Between loads of laundry, rolling up, and an otherwise thoroughly average Monday, Cletus goes into detail about his latest album, how his other musical skills add to his rapping, and his ever-evolving career.
Why do rappers suck?
Rappers don’t really suck. Some do, but it’s funny because a rapper, basketball player, and drug dealer are like the superheroes in our communities. But also, COINTELPRO and a lot of people can be bought, and some might even do it cheaper than others just to do it. So there’s that aspect of like It’s like a jock thing in rapping or like in rap music where people think it’s a competitive sport and not so much art.
It’s the artistic side where people are super pretentious. It’s funny. Women overall might say, “Men suck,” right? And then there’s always that one corny n---- that’s like, “Not all men.” So it’s like, I thought it would be tight to say rappers suck, and then it was inspired by the shirt that said “Ravers Suck” that, like, skateboarders made, ‘cause they’re like making fun of ravers.
And then, the ravers embraced it, and they started wearing the ravers shirt at raves. So I thought that was kinda cool and funny, so I took that and just put rappers. Rappers suck. And you know, I’m a rapper too. I love rap. It’s some shit I grew up with. It’s sacred in our culture. It felt kinda wrong to say—almost.
It’s like, “Am I saying I suck if I say rappers suck?”
I could use it on me, ‘cause I might be late for something, and I’ll be like, “Rappers suck.” Or like I might cancel some shit and it’s like some “rappers suck” shit. I might call out of work or something to work on some music. Rappers suck.
Can you talk about the different parts of your musicality? Obviously, you play drums, you produce, you rap, but how do all those things fit together?
I think so, because with drums, you’re finding the notes between the beats. You’re trying to fit as many beats in between your time signature. It’s like that with syllables, the syllables are the notes down there. Knowing the rudiments definitely helped with my timing.
Yeah.
I also heard a lot of drummers end up becoming front men for some reason.
Like of a band?
Yeah, a lot of people who play drums end up on the mic somehow. It’s a phenomenon; the homie Anaya told me about that, and it usually checks out. Like Dave Grohl, Ringo Starr, shit like that.
Did you ever see yourself as a person who was in front of anything when you began drumming?
Nah, I really didn’t. I’m a really shy person. I love to perform and stuff, but I blank out on stage. I don’t really like attention and shit. I’m the oldest kid in my family, and when my siblings came around, my parents went to tend to them, and I was like, “Oh yeah, that’s cool. Imma dip and go do my own thing.” I like being under the radar for the most part. So, I like the pace that my career is going. I didn’t really get into this to be super known or famous.
If you were such a shy person, somebody who was more content with not being the front person, how did you find your voice?
I realized that people fucked with me for who I am. That’s how I was pulling people in, just being the type of person I am. I realized that was my power. It’s just fun to do shit with people, so that’s kinda how I got my voice. People trusted me with it, they kinda got the battery in my back.
Who were some of the people around you who were being like, “Man, you should actually become a little bit more boisterous?”
Definitely my boy Josue, my boy MadMax, my boy Luzine, my boy Greg, Dontae. I always have those people in my corner. Whenever I send them stuff, they be hyped on it and tell me to keep going or they’ll show up in any way to help me. They devote their time, whether it’s shooting a video or making beats for me.
What were the people who encouraged you, seeing in you that you didn’t necessarily see in yourself?
I feel like I’m a pretty self-aware person, and with music, I feel like a lot of people like to hear themselves speak and I thought that could’ve been the same case with me. They gave me their honest feedback and opinions. I had to get past the point of asking them, “Are you fucking with this because you fuck with me? Or is this actually cool?”
Do you feel like who you are as a person comes through in the different music that you make, either with people or by yourself?
Everything about me goes into the music, like the funny name Cletus Strap and shit. At first, people would think it’s an alter ego or something, but it’s really an alias because I didn’t want to burn out my actual name.
There’s no masking with the music or messages I’m conveying. A lot of times, I’m speaking to myself, the person who didn’t know these things before I knew them. I know a lot of people don’t have older homies or big brothers. If dudes are listening to my shit and they’re coming up, I’m trying to put them on some helpful game.
What were you doing before rap?
I was making music the whole time, honestly. I’ve been making music since I was in 9th grade, not trying to be famous or nothing, but it was some shit me and my friends did. I was in marching band, I was in a rock band before, and I got a jazz band going. It’s just one part of it, honestly, that fulfills me.
How does it feel to have a new sense of success in a different way than you’ve had before?
The newfound shit is kinda crazy. First of all, it’s a lot of like-minded individuals who are fucking with my shit. I was already an Earl fan before I even met bro or anything. I’m going to these shows too, like everybody else, and now I’m on the stage, so it’s pretty cool to see. Sometimes people will walk up and be like, “Bro, it’s crazy I’m talking to you right now.” I don’t even know what to say.
We would just be talking at the concert like regular people, but it’s very flattering that people see me in that way now. It feels like we are a whole community at the end of the day. I didn’t really come up in this bitch thinking that I was going to be in this position necessarily.
What did you expect? Obviously, it’s hard to have expectations to something you’re walking into blindly, but did you want to be somebody who people were nervous to talk to?
I didn’t even now that it would come with it. I just feel like I have to grind everything, so I never had high expectations for anything. Especially as music, MIKE, Sideshow and Thebe opened my eyes to what being a touring and performing artist is like. I just thought it was always going to be excruciatingly hard, and I was willing to do that because it makes me happy and fulfilled to make a cool song, then perform it and then people are fucking with it, or if they’re not fucking with it. It’s something guiding me through this and I’m all for it.
It’s a little bit of a destiny thing too, it’s little things that have happened in my life throughout the years where I’m like, “This is probably meant for me.” I basically prepared for this, my whole life.
Looking back, could you be like, “Oh this thing happened, and this is what led me here,” could you pinpoint those things?
One of my earliest memories is my mom or my cousins bringing up little songs I would sing in the bathtub, shit I just made up, like babbling and shit. That shit would stick for years, like so long until where you don’t even remember these type of events. I’m like, “Damn, I was just in the tub freestyling.” I have this memory of watching the Jackson family show.
An American Dream with Jason Weaver?
Yeah. And my dad was kinda an asshole like Joe, so I kinda felt like Michael, lowkey. I had to be like three, real young and I remember he had this trunk too, and I would stand on it like it was a stage and imagine there was a crowd or something and perform on that little thing.
It’s kinda crazy, the things that you don’t know are going to happen in your life. But there are points at the beginning you had the same inclinations or desires.
Yeah. Then I had a drum set in my room and my little brother had a toy guitar and I would try to get him to jam with me. When people came over to the house, I would tell them to watch us. I would hang fucking lights from the ceiling fan and turn the fan on, let that shit spin around. I had a goof imagination as a kid.
Do you think that stuck with you?
Yeah, later on in school I would be like, “Hey let’s start a rap group.” It would never be serious or nothing until my actual effective rap group happened in like eighth grade.
What was y’all rapping about?
It was definitely like tippin’ on my dick, shit like that. We were definitely listening to a lot of Lil D and shit, like vulgar shit for real. It wasn’t good or nothing, but it was just rapping about whatever.
Everything was just about swag and shit back then. Very unserious stuff. I got in trouble for rapping one time. We were, in school suspension or something. I was, with the homies. I was saying something like, “I don’t give a fuck about bitches on my dick.” And then, like, the teacher, like, locked me up for, like, a week and made me, do standard everyday.
What’s standards?
Like, “I shouldn’t say bitch”
Oh, like lines.
Yeah just writing shit. It was because I said the word bitch. But yeah, I learned. I also learned at that time too, people could be offended by the things you rap about. I don’t even say bitch as much in my music, so it’s definitely had an effect.
Earlier you were talking about the community that you’ve built around being an artist, not only from other artists, but from your friends as well. How has that helped you?
It’s made me look more important in situations. It’s funny, I was dropping music and then friends of friends would find out about it and they fucked with it. It’s like you’re building a fan base, but you don’t want to call them fans because they’re people you could run into at the homie’s party or something and they become your friends. I thought it was dope that real people resonate with it and we would become cool. Turns out, we’re just like minded individuals at the end of the day. Even with Thebe’s music, I’ve been listening to Thebe since I was in middle school. Then I meet him and it’s not hard to be friends with him, you know?
Also, when you become friends with people like that, does it feel like you kind of know them, because you’ve been listening to them for so long?
In a sense, but there’s a lot to learn about people, everybody doesn’t put everything out there. Putting out your art could help you make friends and find likeminded people. This is definitely a vehicle for that.
How much do you put into your music?
Good days, bad days, lesson I learned. I guess it’s little things you might not expect for real. You can tell by the way [Earl] makes music, like how good it is, that a lot of time and effort has been put into it. I didn’t know he’ll listen to the same beat for like fir days before he even says a word.
Can you talk about the differences for you from when you made What Might Happen versus rappers suck?
rappers suck, full off the muscle, independent. I even paid for vinyls to get made. Very, very passion project driven. I don’t know what in my right mind made me spend so much money on making that project. But, I just was really feeling at that time and, at this particular time with What Might Happen, it’s fair to say I was going through a lot, losing friends.
I lost my job security, so I was able to go all in. I really wanted to be more vulnerable about the things that I was going through, and I was doing the rap shit with my homies and shit, but at this point everybody stopped. I remember me and my homie Greg had a conversation. He was just like, “You gotta be the one to, like, be the example.”
I like rapping with the homies. I want them to get back rapping and shit too. So if they see that this shit is actually working, maybe they’ll like get back in the studio with me type shit.
What kept you going even after everybody stopped?
Realizing that I only have this time to do with. I’m about to turn 30 in February. Not trying to be ageist or anything, but you don’t have much time to go for broke. Just focus on you and be like Marty Supreme about it, and only care about your dream.
So I was like, if I’m gonna only, like, care about what I got going on right now I’m just gonna like shamelessly do this shit. I’m just going to because this shit is gonna outlive me and then I could look back on this shit one day. When my mindset shifted, thinking, even if I don’t make it big, I’m still going to do this shit because I love it.
So I went to electrician school, I got into a trade, and while I’m doing electrician school, I started going to the studio with MIKE and Thebe and I didn’t think I’d get super close with them or nothing. So I was just like I just wanted to be realistic and be able to keep investing in making records and shit like that. So I was like, “I’m gonna need a good job to do this. Let me go be an electrician.”
So I did the trade school shit, and, shit ended up working out. During the trade school shit, I start going on tour. I’m telling fools at school, I’m about to do this tour shit, and this is actually the Zulu tour. We driving in my car up the West Coast, I’m doing homework and shit and it was a dream come true. Getting paid to pull up with the homies and sell our merch and check out these different cities and eat different food. It was tight.
I’m interested in your West Coast rap, before you began rapping. What kind of things were playing in your house? What did your parents like?
I grew up listening to Dogg Pound, 2Pac, Snoop and shit, Tone Loc, a lot of R&B. My dad is a huge R&B head, he’ll walk in the house after work, just singing shit. My mom put me on to hella early hip-hop because she had this idea that I was going to know everything that came before. You know how they say history repeats itself?
Yeah.
She was always big on that. Even before it was a heavy thing, that I would hear a lot. She introduced me to “Rappers’ Delight” and Geto Boys. I found N.W.A randomly at my grandparents’ house. They had Music Choice and you could go through the hip-hop section and choose a group and it would have everyone of their videos. I watched that shit all day.
That’s funny that you found that at your grandparents’ house.
I was surprised too, because my dad’s from Compton but he wasn’t slapping NWA like that. I got into Eazy-E and shit heavy. That being my start helped shape my mentality with it. So I’m thinking, “ I’m trying to be on some Eazy-E shit, you know?”
What do you mean by that?
Ruthless Records, he started his own label, took his money and his CDs and getting his homies to rap with him.
So like the self sufficiency of it all rather than having to be part of this big thing.
Then he’s like, “Fuck you,” too, on some punk shit. I was already into skateboarding and rock shit so that really resonated with me.
Do you ever take any of that punk mentality or sensibility into your music today?
For sure. I feel like that’s how we got here with rappers suck. Hustle culture, that’s so sickening to me. Growing up as a musician, people have convinced me that I need to do things that make you look like an asshole in order to make it. I think betting on yourself, and if you’re willing to back yourself up and make your own records and shit, you fail, that’s on you at the end of the day. I don’t know, you gotta be willing to go for broke, but you cany just be annoying, super annoying with it. And it cant’e be desperation, because people can smell that.
How do you mitigate that, being a try hard?
You got to try at least, to keep shit together, but more so, not even try. I be telling my friends, this started for me when I was in my first studio, but we always be saying, “Oh, yeah, I’m trying to do this, trying to do that.” You gotta kinda... It sounds cliche, but you gotta erase try from your vocabulary and just do. So I feel like that mentality has helped me more so, then just trying to see where the playing field is level.
It made me feel like I could do it, because I could make beats and rap. It should go crazy, It’s just a lot of self belief. Some of this stuff does take money, there’s people you do have to pay for certain things to get seen. I thought about doing that, but I swear to God, Im sending DMs to people for promo and shit then I go toYoung World and I don’t even meet Thebe or nothing, but I come back home to L.A., and niggas is doing an interview talking about I’m one of his favorite rappers. I notice my shit go up immediately.
I’m like, “Whoa, I was just about to pay for this shit.” I was about to pay for Rap Caviar. That shit would’ve cost more, but I was about to pay for some page to be like, “Check this artist out.” And he just did that.
