Danny Brown’s ears are like no one else’s — certainly not in rap. His catalog of albums released since 2011 fittingly reflect his sonic diversity.
The wisecracking breakthrough XXX brought his devious cackle to worldwide attention in 2011; two years later, Old offered lookbacks on a dope-dealing past and gleefully irresponsible party anthems. He spread his wings on 2016’s Atrocity Exhibition (named after a Joy Division classic redolent of the depressed soundscapes within); 2019’s uknowhatimsayin? was executive produced by Q-Tip and influenced by stand-up comics. None of Brown's releases sound alike and his last two albums — the noisy, inventive JPEGMafia team-up Scaring the Hoes and his quietest, most reflective album, Quaranta — were especially divergent.
His new album, Stardust, goes on yet another new sonic journey. While some of Brown's most well-known songs include "Blunt After Blunt," "Kush Coma," and "Smokin & Drinkin," Danny Brown has changed his tune. In March 2023, Brown worked with MusiCares to find a rehab center, and has been sober since. Where he previously boasted of wanting to "party like Chris Farley" on XXX's "Die Like a Rockstar," maturity has a way of changing that outlook. Stardust is the artistic rebirth of a man determined to live, having vanquished major demons.
Brown’s conscious of the perception that sobriety has historically led to boring music; no one could accuse Stardust of that, though. The album is the most danceable, colorful, highest-bpm Danny Brown release to date, with assists from stars of the hyperpop scene such as Jane Remover, Frost Children, underscores, and Femtanyl (the latter two will join Brown on tour). But once again, he’s managed to take his sound in a whole new direction bursting with ideas and energy. And he’s cool with other people getting trashed to it.
"Just because I’m sober now doesn't mean people in the crowd are. So I can't tell them not to have a good time," Brown says with a giggle. "I’m the one that’s 44 years old."
The now-Texas-based rapper spoke with GRAMMY.com about how he made his first-ever recording in sobriety, and how hyperpop and U.K. dance music reinvigorated his muse.
This interview has been edited for concision and clarity.
Stardust has the most collaborations you’ve ever put on one record; Quaranta, your last record, was almost the opposite. Was it intentional to go from zero to 100 with those?
I mean, Quaranta was recorded during COVID and lockdown. So maybe if times were a little different, the album would have been different. With this album I was just a fan of and really inspired by everybody that's on the album. I really wanted to work with them.
I figured it was because the last one was so autobiographical and introspective.
I still feel like [Stardust] is, ‘cause it kind of continues on the journey of me after rehab in some sense. Once you change your life, everything else kind of changes too.
I don't really play the type of music that I normally was listening to when I was deep in my depression or drug use and when I was drinking. That’s not stuff that I want to hear in my sobriety now. When I was in rehab, I was listening to a lot of 100 gecs and stuff like that just resonated with me.
Was that your first exposure to hyperpop?
During quarantine, that's when I first heard ["Money Machine"] by 100 gecs. We was all locked down then, and I would just start finding out about different artists that was in that scene. I remember they was doing the livestreams on YouTube, and I would watch those, too, and I got put up on a lot of [artists]…that's how I did that song with Dorian Electra back then. But even before that I was listening to Ashnikko, so I always was starting to trend in that direction and just found something that would work in my world musically.
I could definitely hear some of your music trending that way on Scaring the Hoes. Does your taste go back to, say, Aphex Twin and ‘90s drum ‘n’ bass?
Yeah, there's a lot of breakcore stuff on there, but I think that started with me just listening to grime. Dizzee Rascal is one of my top three favorite artists in the world and I wouldn’t have been able to make this album without him.
So once I got exposed to grime, I started getting exposed to more U.K. sounds. Grime came from garage, and garage came from jungle and drum ‘n’ bass. Doing my homework with that stuff just took over my world.
Definitely, and similar to both Dizzee Rascal and drum ‘n’ bass, you rap in double time a lot on this record. Was that something you were already primed to do?
If you go back and listen to my Old album, that’s when I would start to try to mess around with it a little bit. But back then I was still heavy into drinking. So I would be drunk trying to do the hardest rap style you can possibly think of. We would nudge the lyrics or do whatever we have to do sometimes, but then I would have to take these songs and perform them on stage.
So I think after years of doing it drunk, now that I’m doing it sober, I perfected it. [Laughs.]
This is the first album you’ve ever made sober, right? Congratulations, that’s obviously an enormous lifestyle change. If you’re comfortable, I wanted to ask specifically how that changed your writing process.
It was really hard. [Laughs.] I actually found out about this book called The Artist’s Way, written by somebody who figured out how they got back into being able to write once they got sober. They give you these exercises, like, take yourself on artist dates or journal every day. I eventually developed a process with it and I can't say it really sticks; I feel like every album I try to do something different with my writing processes. I just listen to the beat all night and then I go to sleep and kind of dream it. And then I wake up in the morning, have my first cup of coffee, and I write it in, like, 10 minutes.
Did you take yourself on an artist date? What did that look like?
Yeah, you would take yourself to do s— I probably wouldn’t normally do, like go to a museum. But I understood why I was doing it because it was getting you out of your head where you could just release feelings or emotions. So my mind would just be clear to concentrate on music.
You rapped onstage with A.G. Cook at Coachella this spring. Were you ever in contact with [late legendary producer] Sophie? I feel like you two were kindred musical spirits in some ways.
That’s one of the things I’m really bummed out about. When I first heard [Sophie’s] "Bipp," I was like, this is about to be like the next wave of grime. And I really wanted to work with Sophie, but I remember Vince Staples had worked with Sophie [on "Yeah Right"].
Something about us hip-hop guys: When somebody do something, it’s like, ah, he did it first. And I really wish I didn’t think like that back then. I wish I didn’t have that old rapper brain.
It’s funny you say that because one of the only albums like Stardust is Vince’s Big Fish Theory, which still sounds pretty different. But just that openness to work within dance music and U.K. garage sounds. I also love how [Stardust opener] "Book of Daniel" is this triumphant, emotional introduction that suddenly switches gears to the "fun" music right after. It’s a good bridge from the last album to this one.
That’s exactly what it was, if you end the last album with that song and start this one. I kind of want all of my albums to seamlessly flow like that. So I don't know if people even notice that, but all my albums kind of do that. The last song goes into the first one. Every album does it.