Tramaine Finally Plants His Feet
Photography by Alexander Jibaja
Tramaine is comfortable with silence. He’d rather choose his words carefully. At numerous points in our conversation, he took 10, even 20 seconds at a time to collect his thoughts.
Personally, I find nothing more awkward than a silence that lasts too long. I asked him why he seemed so unfazed by the gaps.
“The feeling of silence,” he explains, “is better than the feeling you get after you say some dumb shit.”
With only two singles out, Tramaine’s catalog is modest. But his debut single “Ballet” marks a triumphant entrance, with the very first bar proclaiming: “It’s pussy how they played it ain’t it.” It’s the type of diss that would bring a smile to any old head’s face. Sonically, the track features the kind of trunk-rattling bass, smacking drums and vocal inflections you’d expect from a Southern rap record.
It was no surprise to learn that Tramaine spent a lot of time with family in Mississippi during his formative years. In fact, he’s lived all over the country, moving back and forth from the South to different spots in Chicago and Indiana, and recently settling down in Los Angeles.
Tramaine’s debut mixtape, set for release later this year through POW Recordings, is called Through Hell and High Waters and reflects on the tumult of his upbringing. But the project has more to say than hardship, recognizing the rewards that perseverance brings.
“I feel like every time you hear somebody say they went through hell and high water, it’s past tense,” he says. “Things are a little bit better, more sunny by the time they say that.”
These Days had a chance to sit down with Tramaine to get more context on how he became the prolific writer that he is, the differences between Chicago & L.A., why his sound is so Southern in nature and more.
As of today (Feb. 20) you only have two tracks out: “Ballet” and “Outside Alpo’s.” Both of these felt very influenced by Southern rap. I know you have Chicago ties and you're out in L.A. now. How did you end up at all of those locations?
I bounced around a little bit everywhere. I was born in Chicago. I lived there until I was five, and then I moved to Mississippi for a little bit, lived a bit on the Gulf Coast toward Louisiana during Katrina… I lived in Indiana in the time between Chicago and Mississippi. From Indiana, I went back to Chicago, lived in a couple of different places in both states. I was living in Indianapolis when I bounced out to Los Angeles.
I was trying to get around. You gotta see something.
How much of that movement was your personal decision?
I lived with a lot of family members. My mom was the type of person to be moving us from city to city, but that was within Chicago and Mississippi. We reached a point in life where me and my brother were just sort of bouncing around from family member to family member. I guess you just get accustomed to not being in one school, area or neighborhood for so long.
I love the Chicago music scene. I grew up in it, I'm invested in it and that's the music that I listen to. But as an adult coming into myself, I felt like I needed to be in a place where [my peers] mostly do what I'm looking to do. And that's what took me out to Los Angeles.
I moved two years ago. Since I'm already a person that's sort of used to bouncing around, why not bounce to a place that piqued my interest?
You feel pretty settled there?
For the most part, life wise, you know what I mean? You get used to it really quick. It's not like better scenery or anything, it’s just different scenery.
I was back in Chicago twice last month and… I enjoy that scenery too. You don't have all the mountains and everything in the distance, just…flat land. And people act differently out there than out here. I can embrace that and that's what I feel more akin to, honestly.
Being out in L.A., it has its own feel as well. Year-round nice weather. The weed is good and the prices are better. I went out to Chicago and at one of the dispensaries, they were selling an 8th for $75. It was just wild, I lost my mind.
So there’s different energy people-wise from the Midwest to L.A. Specifically in the music world, what are some of those differences that you see?
The difference is more in the people I end up interacting with. In Chicago, if I’m out doing anything, I'm running into a lot of people that I grew up with or met already ‘cause I done lived in a lot of places in the city.
In L.A., a lot of the people I run into have migrated here like I have just for the purpose of being ambitious at whatever they got going on, whether it be producing, journalism, anything…. It's like you're always being reminded that you're in your pursuit. Blades sharpen blades, so you end up in a healthy competition with everybody that's around you.
A lot of people say there isn't enough music infrastructure in Chicago and many of those same people say the solution is moving to L.A.. But I feel like that negates the idea that you still have to put in work. There's just as many people, if not more, chasing after that same dream.
Do you feel like you personally are getting more opportunities since you moved?
I was about to say exactly that. People anywhere in any profession who think that place is the problem—barring, like, third-world countries or places of actual oppression—it's just not the case. When I was in Chicago, the pursuit was the same. It's not a matter of infrastructure. The infrastructure is what you make it, because you have people and people are what build infrastructure, right? Infrastructure is really just a collection of people coming together to build some sort of organization in the city where artists can come up.
But it's up to the people. So being in Chicago, maybe I wasn't aware of as many people that were pursuing this, but it's not like you couldn't find them. And it's not like you couldn't utilize your network and your resources the exact same as you would in any city. And with social media, the same people are available to you that are in L.A.. You know what I mean?
The benefit I have seen [in L.A.] is that there are a lot of creatives willing to work and available to me. There are a lot of places where you can find opportunities, but it's still up to you. Same as in any city. Surprisingly, since moving out here, most of the time when I'm doing work, I end up going back to Chicago for some purpose. I still work with a lot of creatives out there.
There's so many people in L.A. doing amazing things you can marvel at. But the people that I've been working with or the people that I'm comfortable with, a lot of the time [are in Chicago.]
You and Vince Ash and a couple other artists have “6.52” in front of your names. What’s the significance of that number?
6.52 represents The Commission. It's not only rappers, but it's a group of creatives more like a conglomeration. In short, it’s a board of brothers coming together to focus on unity and efficiency. Unity in how we stand together and efficiency in how we do business. As long as we’ve been in pursuit of what we have going on, we've been within the collective.
I think people will become more aware of what 6.52 represents, what The Commission means, in the near future. Honestly.
Like I had said, the two singles that you have out right now feel very Southern. Passion of the Weiss recommended you for fans of Project Pat. Do you feel like a lot of your sonic influence comes from the South?
My time in Mississippi… had a huge effect on my character. Most of my family is actually from the South. My mother was Black and Creole French, that’s part of like the Gulf Coast of Louisiana. When I'm going to visit a lot of my family, I'm either going to Chicago or Mississippi/Alabama. I have an affinity for the South musically. Oh my God, I love every region.
I feel like my roots in rap are in the South. When I first started listening to rap, the South was taking over. It was a time when Boosie was going crazy, when Lil Wayne, T.I. were on top of the world. It influenced the way that I hear the genre. When I'm going back and thinking, ‘what does rap sound like?’, a lot of the time it's coming from that region. I'm not purposely trying to sound Southern on my tracks, and I dont really hear it so much, but people say it. i understand though because my music will automatically have that influence because I have so much respect for [the South] and I have so much of it in my ear and my heritage.
“The South's got something to say.” You took that to heart.
“Ballet” and “Outside Alpo’s” marked your arrival. You said you have a mixtape coming up. What are you looking to communicate to fans with that project?
Man, I just want to convey my story in a way where it relates to those that relate. I'm bouncing around from state to state, from city to city, within a year. You witness a lot. You get to know a lot about the world. All I can do is take whatever is within me and put that out there with the best possible delivery and lyric behind it.
But that's all I know. All that's in my head is what I've been through, what I've learned. So when it comes to making a tape or any music that I will in the future, it'll always be an exhibition of my experience.
A lot of rappers are out here lying. You don’t seem interested in that.
I want to represent wholly, you know, “what is myself? What are the people that I come from?” As artists, we have a job to represent the people that share our experiences. It’s so many people that have seen what I saw, that were there with me when I saw it, they’ve lived in that neighborhood, that state or that place that takes seriously the same things that I do and they just can't put the lyrics behind it.
I feel like I have a duty to those people, to speak our voice.
How did you hone your pen game to tell those stories? Have you always thought of yourself as a writer?
Coming up. I always felt like I could put words together. When I was young, I did poetry. Got a little older, I was rapping, but not taking any of it seriously. It just felt like something I could do. As I got older and in high school, [writing] initially took me into the rap world.
I feel like I could write anything if it came down to it. When I’ve done what I will with rap, I could write a damn script for a movie or something like that. I'm gonna write a book one day.
It’s a sort of existential experience, honestly. Something above you is presenting you to words. Oftentimes I feel just as surprised as anybody when the words actually pan out to sound OK.
What's your studio process like? I’m guessing you don’t go off the top much.
It's not that I can't do it. But oftentimes I'm not so willing to. Sometimes going off the top is fun. And I respect everybody that does it that way. In general though, I feel like if I can freestyle so well over a beat, I could probably write ten times better over it, because I have respect for the music, the producer, what this project can be…. I feel like it makes more sense to justify that potential and give the listener what they deserve.
And I'm such a fan of the music as before anything. I'm a fan, you know what I mean?I like to create music that I like, and I feel I can relate to. Like I want to listen to this shit!
How do you feel about listening to your own music?
I listen to the tracks so much before we put them out—by force—that it's almost hard to go back and listen to it for the sake of it after it’s out.
Sometimes after I put it out, I can go back to a track that I did maybe a long time ago, and I can feel that again. Like “oh yeah, this was actually good.” But I don't think it's so often that I'm in the car just bumping my own shit. It’s something sort of pretentious about that, right? *Laughs*
I respect that all day though, because sometimes you just make something hard.
It seems like you’re very meticulous with what you drop. Can that be counterproductive sometimes? Like you’re on the 15th or 20th listen and maybe it’s not hitting the way you want.
You're spot on by saying that. Even with the tape, so many songs that were on it so long ago, I forget about them, like I might not even have the files for them. Those may be songs that at the time were my favorite on the tape.
Time tells all, no matter what we’re talking about. You give things time and you just realize some records aren’t the record. Some of them I may be fucking up on though. Sometimes I go back to records and I'm like, “this should be the one.”
I imagine between now and the time the tape drops, I might switch out another two or three songs. Things die and revive.
On December 31st, 2023, what do you want to have accomplished? What are your goals for the year?
I can only say so much on where I hope to be because I feel like there's a lot of other external factors that have a hand in that. But by the end of the year, I want to have the tape released, and the reception will be what it will, but honestly I want to continue creating and putting out the music that defines where I've been and where I'm going. You know what I'm saying?
That's well-put. Anything else you want to add? What are you working on right now?
Right now I'm trying to get the tape in order. I'm looking to drop this summer, so I’m trying to get the singles together, get some videos together so everything's just ready to be released. The tape is called Through Hell and High Waters.
Does that represent the journey you've gone on with all your relocations?
You hit it dead on. That’s what the album represents and maybe even what people will get from some areas of it. It's been hell and high water. But it's not grim, and I don't think everywhere on it will sound like pain. It’s an honest remark for how I feel about what [my journey] has been.