Elucid on the Music He Wants to Soundtrack His Funeral

Existential Playlist is an interview series where artists tell us about the music they want played at their own memorial service, delving into some of life’s biggest questions along the way.

Near the middle of “First Light,” the smoldering opening track to Elucid’s latest album I Guess U Had To Be There, the Queens-born rapper-producer shares a fleeting thought that sums up his entire existence as an MC: “You might catch me talking to my wounds / Somebody lyin’.” Both solo and as one-half of Armand Hammer with billy woods, his writing carries the weight of Black history with an attentive approach buttressed by the raspy husk of his baritone. He can recreate the anxiety of the Orangeburg Massacre at South Carolina State College in 1968 and wire-wearing snitches smiling in his face while “[believing] in Black people believing” regardless of his skepticism—all with the intricacy and flair of jazz legend Laraaji’s hats.

I Guess U Had To Be There—produced entirely by Swiss “sound scientist” Sebb Bash, as Elucid refers to him—continues to find meaning in the pains and triumphs of Black existence, especially as a 40-something husband and father of three. On “Make Me Wise,” a trip to Home Depot for gardening supplies is accented by immigrants displaced by ICE raids and a government “pairing propaganda with pie in the face.” Elucid’s childhood memories of Queens mall The Colosseum and visions of singer Donny Hathaway “crooning with iridescent wings” from the hotel balcony where he took his life in 1979 crowd the corners of these songs. But so do the echoes of Elucid’s kids wishing him “Happy Daddy’s Day” for a month straight and the thought of making his wife smile when he comes home from tour. Bash’s beats are as frenetic and prickly as Elucid’s bars, and together, they hit the sweet spot between experimental and accessible. 

Be There is a record couched in both joy and suffering, which is why I wasn’t surprised when, during our conversation about what songs he’d like to be played at his funeral, Elucid corrected me quickly: “First, I wouldn’t even call it a funeral. Let’s start there. This is a homegoing.” Because of his unflinching approach to world history and unshakably collectivist politics, Elucid has gained a reputation as a doomsayer and nihilist. But he finds a pastel happiness in what he’s built for himself: a career where he gets paid to speak his mind, where he can support and nurture a family, where he can share inspiration and energy with generations of other artists working to insure and platform a brighter world. In lockstep with this, his five picks are among the least traditionally funereal of any I’ve seen in this series.  

Funkadelic: “Maggot Brain”

How I came up, funerals and homegoings resemble the same thing, but the feeling might be a little bit different. I’ve been to homegoings where people were smiling and there was happiness and really good music and excellent food; people were telling jokes and shit. It’s literally the celebration of life; it didn’t feel like a solemn affair like funerals are viewed as. And “Maggot Brain” would set the mood, right? We’re acknowledging the passing—I’m no longer here, I’m leaving my children, I’m leaving my wife. Damn, this is grim [laughs]. It starts off with a solemn enough mood I think is respectful. And also in this life, that song has literally stopped me in my tracks and brought me to tears. The first time I heard this song, I wanted to cry. I didn’t cry, but I wanted to. I listened to the whole almost 10 minutes like, What the fuck was that? I think that’s a perfect place to start at a homegoing service. As people are coming in, that’s a perfect vibe setter. 

All I can think about is that meme with a guy dressed in a suit eating food and the caption is “When the funeral food so good you forgot who died.” The last service I went to was for my Uncle Goody some years back, and it has this exact vibe. The funeral was sad, sure, but the repast after was anything but. Food and conversation and dancing as far as the eye could see. I appreciate you wanting to kick things off with “Maggot Brain” because even though it wasn’t played there, it’s centering in a way that day was for me. It’s not a particularly happy or sad song—it just is. 

Yeah, for sure. And rest in peace to Uncle Goody.

Curtis Mayfield: “The Makings of You (Live at The Bitter End)”

I think this song was originally on the album called Curtis, but it’s the studio version. To me, it’s slightly overproduced and it distracts from the core thing that I like about the song. When I heard the live version, I was like, This is the one. The thing that grabbed me about this version of the song, the very first note—the very first time he opens his mouth—you hear this woman say Ahh! You feel the excitement in the room. That’s power, dawg. He hasn’t said a sentence, but people are already ready to give it all. I think it’s a beautiful song to listen to, and when my second kid was born, I had it on loop in the delivery room. He came into this world to that song. So there’s that real personal significance to me above all else.

I feel like the live version is often closer to the artist’s heart. In my opinion, the studio version is usually tamer than the live version, which is more raw and has more resonance in some cases. But I feel you, I used to not enjoy live versions at all, but as I’ve gotten older, I can appreciate live versions and alternate takes. It’s interesting how many different ways you can play one song. 

When I saw you earlier this year, the version of “The World is Dog” you played is maybe the best version of that song I’ve ever heard. You were completely uninhibited and doing ad-libs all over the place. I’d never heard you do no shit like that. Even if you don’t have that recording, having that in my memory banks has changed the way I listen to and experience that song to this day.  

Thank you. That was a good time, man.

Rakim: “Microphone Fiend”

That was a childhood nostalgia tip. As a kid, my parents had played me all sorts of things, and I remember my dad really liked Whodini. That song “Five Minutes of Funk?” I remember riding in the car with my dad and him rapping Jalil or Ecstacy’s verse. And that bassline! I remember seeing and hearing that before I’d even seen Video Music Box, and the theme song for Video Music Box was “Five Minutes of Funk.” It was the first place I ever heard and saw Eric B. and Rakim’s “MIcrophone Fiend.” I might’ve been six or seven years old. That shit was unlike anything I’d ever heard. I knew Whodini, I knew Grandmaster Flash or Melle Mel, but Rakim was different, man. It’s hard to put into words other than “awe-inspiring.” This was a foundational moment unlike anything else I’ve heard up until this point, and even as a child, I knew that. 

Watching that video, he’s on Jamaica Ave. at the Colosseum. Like, this is my neighborhood. I’m seeing the block, I’m seeing the stores where I’d be with my mom running errands—I’m seeing that in the video. Then, I’m seeing the kid at the end who looks my age and he’s beating up the box and the beat is hard. And obviously, that’s my life these days: I am a microphone fiend. I make my living making records and touring. Raising children is interesting because I’m aware of what I’m playing for them while we’re riding around or in the house. I like a lotta different things and I don’t always wanna play the language in front of them, but one thing I can always go back to is old-school rap: The Jungle Brothers, De La Soul, Big Daddy Kane, to a certain point. It’s skills and it’s fun. They’re rapping, they’re counting, they’re spelling, there’s a geography lesson over colorful beats. But “Microphone Fiend” is one of those things I definitely shared with my son, especially the video, to see what his connection would be if he saw somebody his age in this video with the big gold chains, five-finger rings. And he dug it. That grounded me as a child and sticks with me til this day. 

Passing that feeling down to your children, especially considering a place like the Colosseum—which has been memorialized in rap history—doesn’t exist anymore, is a powerful feeling. 

Being intentional about that is important. I want to expose you to many things, but he also has his own discovery process and listens to his own kid’s music. He’s listening to KPop Demon Hunters. But I would be remiss as a dad to not put you onto real cool shit—shit I thought was cool then and shit I think is cool now. These are good moments. 

And rest in peace to the Colosseum, man. It’s specifically rap history, no doubt about it. Thinking about the idea of I Guess U Had To Be There: How will my kids understand the significance of the Colosseum? We have the video, we have stories, but they’ll never be there and be able to smell the beef patty aroma leaking out into the streets and mixing with all sorts of perfume and hair weave spray. It’s just that feeling that never kinda escaped me. I am the Colosseum [laughs]. 

Keni Burke: “Risin’ to The Top”

It’s a classic park block party jam from childhood. Again, this is one of the things I learned and inherited from my parents. My dad was a bass player, so that bassline is super thick and iconic at this point. This song just makes me feel good. Without even listening to the lyrics, which are pretty positive and new age-y in a very now way, in the way we talk about manifesting and intentionality and all these things you hear people saying. That’s all there in “Rising to The Top.” It’s at the core. When I think about my homegoing service, I want people to smile, I want them to feel good and connected to me. Not to get too crazy or over-the-top, but when we talk about our ancestors and people crossing over, a way to do that is through these good, happy emotions. When people set up altars, you bring things people like and play songs they enjoyed in this world. It brings them back to this world to visit and communicate, and that song is near, dear, and true to my heart. It seems like the perfect joint to play at a homegoing celebrating my days. And it’s a bop—you can dance to it, you can vibe to it.   

Maze: “Happy Feelings”

Go put on some all-white outfit, burn some palo santo, put this song on, and get your vibe right. That song also makes me smile. I was raised on it, but It’s been a comfort to me especially on the road recently. The road can be lonely as hell, man. FaceTime calls just don't be enough sometimes. Part of the road challenge is being able to ground yourself. Every day, you’re traveling and you’re in a different place. It seems glamorous, and I guess to a certain extent, it is, but you gotta get up and show up, and I would hope you wanna be 100 percent for people when you do. That shit is tiring and you have to find ways to center, you have to find ways to push through. I be makin’ playlists of all sorts of things that gets me in that zone, and “Happy Feelings” by Maze is one of those songs. I love to play that on the road or even backstage getting ready for a thing. It puts me in a place of being ready to do the thing, and I’m grateful for the position I’m in right now.