On His First Album In 26 Years, Slick Rick Takes A ‘Victory’ Lap

Slick Rick emerges from his hotel bedroom, shakes my hand and fixes a beady eye on his interviewer. He wears an understated rugby shirt (Louis Vuitton), several large bracelets and rings (diamond-encrusted), and a white eyepatch. We sit in two plush armchairs by the window of his suite at the Four Seasons, overlooking Buckingham Palace.

Richard Walters was born in London, in a sleepy southwest suburb called Mitcham, before he and his family moved to the Bronx when he was 10 or 11. He’s back in the British capital promoting Victory, his first album since 1999. He worked as both chief songwriter and producer on the album, and hasn’t lost a day of his youthful exuberance.

"It’s the same spark like when I was a child, when ‘La Di Da Di’ and ‘Children’s Story’ came out," he says. "Now we’re a different age. But you still can bring the same enthusiasm and inspiration, with growth."

In New York in the 1980s, Walters began rapping while his school friends drummed rhythms on their desks. They called themselves the Kangol Crew, after the brand of furry hats they wore along with Clark Wallabee shoes and heavy, ostentatious jewellery. After meeting the producer and beatboxer Doug E Fresh, Rick made history in 1985 with the songs "The Show" and "La Di Da Di," the "greatest two-sided single since ‘Hound Dog/Love Me Tender,’" as critic Peter Shapiro wrote in The Rough Guide to Hip-Hop years later.

"La Di Da Di" became one of the most sampled songs in the history of music and with his subsequent solo album The Great Adventures of Slick Rick, featuring the hit single "Children’s Story," Walters pioneered a new kind of hip-hop with his gift for vivid storytelling. Traces of his British upbringing could be heard in his buttery voice, while his look — most notably an eyepatch covering an injury caused by a broken window when he was two — became one of rap’s most iconic images.

Acclaim followed, but in the early '90s Rick was found guilty of attempted murder when he shot at his cousin in the street (following a dispute over money), injuring a bystander. After Def Jam label head Russell Simmons bailed him out of jail, Rick released his next album The Ruler’s Back while awaiting trial. It was nowhere near as successful as his debut, but it remains an underrated gem in a priceless catalogue.

Rick served five years in prison, during which time he managed to release a third album, Behind Bars, while on day release. While many critics at the time (and even Rick himself) heard a rushed, hit-and-miss record, much of Behind Bars is now beloved by fans. On that release, Rick conjured complex stories of intimacy between enslaved people and their enslavers, as well as a tale of sexual violence in prison. With issues of misogyny and abuse in hip-hop prevalent in the news cycle, Rick’s knack for both delicacy and levity are more precious than ever.

Upon release Rick recorded the superb comeback The Art of Storytelling. Walters produced several hits on the 1999 album, including "Street Talking" with OutKast and "I Own America" parts one and two. But further hardship was to come. In 2002, Rick was deported from the U.S. on the grounds that he was an immigrant who had been convicted of a felony. A legal struggle followed, until New York governor David Paterson granted Rick a full pardon in 2008.

Rick’s comeback album Victory arrives 26 years after its predecessor, released on Idris Elba’s record label 7Wallace and featuring guest performances from Nas and British legends Giggs and Estelle. Rick’s flair for storytelling remains, more dense and cryptic than in his younger years, while his voice has begun to crinkle at the edges, his irresistible drawl aging like malt whisky. At 60 years young, he proves as slick as ever.

Below, the Recording Academy Lifetime Achievement Award honoree discusses his long hiatus, aging gracefully, and his love for the Beatles.

It’s been 26 years since your last album. Why so long?

I was just chilling. My wife and Idris pushed me to make an album. I was waiting for an opportunity, just popping and weaving for a while, you know?

When the opportunity came with Idris, I said, "What the heck?" It was a new day in the industry, you study? People could put a record out and put it on the internet real quick. So that's where my mindset was going, just drop a single here, there, put it on the internet and see how it does. But Idris came and said "Let’s make an album."

There’s a bar on new track "We’re Not Losing" where you say, "Boot pastor? Bout to be a nuclear disaster, these assholes." Can you shed some light on what that song’s about?

When I say pastor, I was trying to reference like a moral compass. So it’s saying without a moral compass there’s about to be a nuclear disaster. Not to offend anybody, you know what I mean?

Who’s "these assholes"?

Well, I can't name them. I’ll get shot. Use your imagination. When you speak truth to power, who do you think you’re talking to? Put your mind in that type of situation where we got to straighten out the powers that be so they don't make inequality and people like me can make a living and do what we do without it being a big problem.

Your new tracks "Cuz I'm Here" and "Come Let's Go" have a house beat — a bit like the last song on your second album, The Ruler’s Back. What made you want to rap over beats like these again?

I was hanging out with Idris. He was DJing somewhere in England. He was playing these [house] records. The ones that stood out to me was those two. I looped them and said we should rap on these two house tracks. It's a different audience, so now you're appealing to a house audience, a gay audience.

Tell me about your working relationship with Idris.

It's always been fun. Met him at a party once; we just clicked. Later on, his people got in touch and said they wanted me to come to England and make an album.

On "I Own America" you rapped "From New York to Cali, none’ll f— with the Awkward/you think Muhammad Ali used to talk s—?" How on Earth do you come up with a flow like that?

I guess it's just something that's embedded. The music is like Aladdin and his magic carpet, and you just ride along with it. Any line that doesn't seem like it's rhyming, you tweak it, fix it, so it's just like it's just flowing. It's like a river. You're just flowing on top of the track.

Why did you call yourself the Awkward?

Just being awkward, you know. Not average, a little corky, a little off.

There's a clip of you and Doug E. Fresh’s Get Fresh Crew performing "The Show" on "Top of the Pops" in 1985, and you sang a little bit of "Michelle" by the Beatles. It's not in the studio version of "The Show," but you did it again on your later solo track "I Run This." What was behind that?

Just from my upbringing. Some songs stick with you because they sound beautiful. It's like Walt Disney: as a child, Jungle Book or Cinderella or Snow White, it sticks with you. Since I was from England and this is what we was hearing, these are the songs that stuck with me as a youth.

Paul McCartney, John Lennon, Sammy Davis Jr., Janice Joplin… Like you, these legends all won the Recording Academy Lifetime Achievement Award. How does it feel to be in the company of people like that?

I mean, it's a honor. It's a status symbol. You can tell your friends. You can wave it around like credentials or something.

I’d love to ask you about the Behind Bars title track. Can you remember what that song's about?

Not really. Those albums was like a rushed job because I was out on bail. So me and the record label tried to put two albums together at the same time, in like a two, three-month period. So a lot of the work wasn't at its finest.

If you look on Spotify or YouTube, "Behind Bars" is one of your most popular songs now, with its beautifully animated video and lurid depiction of life in prison. Especially in today's climate, I can't help but notice there’s a reference to an attempted sexual assault on that track. Was that taken from real life?

No, I was just telling stories of my imagination, and most people's imagination of prison. You know, it's dangerous. You might get raped and you might get hurt and extorted and all that. So I used my imagination to put into a story.

There’s something about the way you find humor in such dark places that feels important right now. Elsewhere on the album, on a song called "I'm Captive," you describe being approached by someone called "Master’s wife." Am I right in thinking that song is about you being seduced by and then performing a sex act on a slave driver's wife?

Yes. [Laughs.] Once again, imagination, watching stuff like Roots, where you saw it in a more serious essence. But I was trying to put a little humor into it. I saw Dave Chappelle do it once too, like that. It wasn't the same subject, but the same kind of mentality, tryna make light of slavery.

"La Di Da Di" has been sampled over 800 times. Which is your favourite?

I wouldn't know what to tell you fam. I don't really have a favourite, so I'll just say there's a lot that I appreciate. People took different sentences from it, made it their chorus or whatever. That's like an English thing, "La di da di" and "oh golly wally!"

I hate to mention age, but at 60 years old, how do you feel, health wise?

I feel great. I think it's all about your mindset, you know what I mean? Once I'm in my hip-hop mind state, age is just a number. It's just like fine wine or cheese. I think hip-hop, if you grow it right, can age like fine wine.

There aren't many rappers who have made it to 60 in a graceful way. Do you ever worry about staying relevant?

Not really, because my mind state now is just entertaining myself. And then by me entertaining myself is where people come and say, "What the f—'s going on over here?"

Do you feel like hip-hop is in good health at the moment?

I would say 50-50. If you're young, nobody's not gonna expect you to be Einstein, you know what I mean? But if you my age, they expect you to show growth. A plant grows and it grows. If it's healthy, it becomes a tree and then it can nourish others.

Is it the first of a few more Slick Rick albums?

I would say so. It depends what the public wants. If the public is hungry and this is an avenue that cures their boredom…