We’ve Got A File On You: LL Cool J

We’ve Got A File On You features interviews in which artists share the stories behind the extracurricular activities that dot their careers: acting gigs, guest appearances, random internet ephemera, etc.

There’s a scene towards the end of director Brian De Palma’s classic 1976 horror adaptation, Carrie, where the deceased titular character’s hand suddenly pushes through the damp soil located in front of her tombstone. Carrie is hellbent on revenge, ready to eviscerate all those who’ve dismissed her as a faded force and danced on her grave.

It’s an iconic sequence that hip hop legend LL Cool J (real name James Todd Smith) — who spits the telling line “It’s like I died and came back” amid a silky-smooth piano loop on new song “30 Decembers” — can relate to on a visceral level. LL, whose excellent new Q-Tip produced album, THE FORCE, represents his first in 11 years, agreed during our Zoom call: “That’s exactly it! I feel revived.”

His million-dollar smile rarely doesn’t flash across the screen and, at various points, I’m treated to LL spontaneously reciting his new album’s best verses. This is a man who is so obviously feeling inspired. “You know, it is like we’re mentally trained by the media to dismiss rappers as creative forces when they go away for a while or hit a certain age,” he said. “I really wanted to change that narrative with this new album.”

Referring to the fact that Pitchfork didn’t even review THE FORCE (which features guests including Eminem, Nas, Snoop Dogg, Sona Jobarteh, Fat Joe, and Busta Rhymes), nor fellow rap elder statesmen Pete Rock and Common’s pristine The Auditorium Vol. 1, the 56-year-old continued: “If rappers go away even for a weekend, people say we’re finished! In a lot of ways, it’s kind of laughable, because we’re not athletes who can’t compete once they hit a certain age.

“It just shows you how much work we still must do to fight against ageism. It’s important to me that this new album breaks down those barriers, so that the future generations of hip hop don’t have to deal with it anymore.” I asked LL if he believes rappers simply aren’t allowed to age like, say, white post-punk stars are able to. “Exactly that,” he concurred.

Few would argue against LL Cool J being a rap innovator. After all, THE FORCE gives him five straight decades with a new album on the Billboard 200. Unafraid to spit bars about having his heart broken or being alone in his bedroom, despondently staring at the wall (see 1987’s “I Need Love“), LL has practically been the prototype for every vulnerable mainstream rap Lothario, whether that’s a 2Pac or a Drake. He was also one of the first emcees to spit vibrantly against ferocious guitar riffs, blurring the lines between a rapper and rock star with his landmark Rick Rubin-produced 1985 debut, Radio.

LL tended to sound larger than life on wax, whether bragging in a velvety yet vainglorious vocal tone about putting crack fiends in head locks (“Buckin’ Em Down“); having a sound so rough he could eat a cactus (“You’ll Rock“); or even swinging the Excalibur sword at his rap rivals’ necks (“4,3,2,1“). In his prime, this Queens, New York City-based emcee was less like a rapper and more like a rampaging, Incredible Hulk-esque character with tree trunk arms, who was sent to the Big Apple by his mother to knock out all fake rappers and then triumphantly ride off with their girlfriends into the sunset while Boyz II Men hummed out syrupy lullabies in the background.

However, it’s also fair to say that at some point LL Cool J became somewhat of a pastiche artistically. The image of him dripping chocolate syrup over a lover in the “Loungin” music video endured, and at various junctures later on in the 2000s, the major label execs seemed determined to push LL into releasing autopilot romantic singles that chased former glories. His acting role as empathetic cop Sam Hanna for 14 seasons of NCIS: Los Angeles, as well as presenting gigs like hosting the Grammys, meant we started to see LL Cool J more like a cuddly celebrity than the charged-up rapper of old.

Although 2002’s “Luv U Better” was an undeniable Neptunes-produced smash, LL Cool J just wasn’t given the space to become a rap elder statesman like some of his peers were, which might explain why he stopped getting the same thrill out of making music and started dedicating more of his energy towards breaking Hollywood. “Maybe musically my cultural and sonic impact went from an A+ to a C-,” LL conceded with a refreshing honesty. “But just because you release something that creative misses the mark, it doesn’t mean that you can’t put it right again.”

Put it right he certainly has, and – to once again paraphrase “Mama Said Knock You Out” – this time you should definitely call it a comeback. Boosted by Q-Tip’s deliriously funky production, which carries a booming lust (check out “Proclivities” featuring Saweetie), as well as brain-melting, droning synths that zig-zag around the percussion and are something the late J Dilla would be proud of (as heard on the title track), these experimental beats trigger some of LL’s best ever rapping. You can feel the mischievous joy in his voice when he spits a bar about dipping his feet in tropical waters that are “so clear you can see the fish pissing.”

LL also bravely opens a mainstream rap album with a nihilistic storytelling song (“Spirit Of Cyrus”) that considers whether murderous LAPD officer Christopher Dorner might just have been the contemporary equivalent of slave rebellion leader Nat Turner (more on this later). On highlight “Black Code Suite” LL boasts about having “Duke Ellington dexterity” during a colorful verse linking lust with soul food and a beat that whistles forward with a chirpy playfulness. These are some of his best songs in decades, maybe ever, and the lyrics contain plenty of sage advice, including a gem about why rappers continuing to use Scarface’s Tony Montana as a role model in 2024 are being foolish.

If the mistriggering violins and stomping drums of gully album closer “The Vow” do not make you nod your head and do the stink face, then you might just be dead inside. The track causes LL to black out lyrically: “He’s a mythological, melanated prodigy of royalty/ Spraying you with soliloquies/ I’m Gil Heron with the camouflage gear on.” Due to Q-Tip’s precise layering of instruments and LL’s snappy wordplay (“You need a new team like a girl with a BBL needs new genes/jeans” he raps on the chilled-out “Passion“), these songs reveal hidden depths with each fresh listen.

When you play them on a decent pair of headphones, something few would have predicted at the start of this year becomes apparent: LL Cool J might just have a rap album of the year contender. “I feel like I had to get past the whole jaded mindset [towards the music industry] and kind of restock, rethink, and get some new mental guns, so to speak,” LL explains further. “With THE FORCE, as both a lyricist and a songwriter, I was driven by proving I can get better with age through re-tooling myself. This record is about going somewhere else with it.”

To celebrate the release of THE FORCE, I spoke at length with LL Cool J for a new We’ve Got A File On You. We covered a lot: Why Black people deserve reparations for slavery, the genius of Q-Tip, whether he was defeated by Biggie on the “Flava In Ya Ear” remix, being karate kicked by a Beastie Boy, acting alongside a parrot in Deep Blue Sea, and why LL models himself on “friend” Eddie Van Halen.

THE FORCE (2024)

I think it’s a really bold move to open a mainstream rap album with a conceptual storytelling track like “Spirit Of Cyrus,” which makes the listener see through the eyes of Christopher Dorner [the late LAPD officer who murdered four people – two police officers, the daughter of a former police captain and also her fiance – in what Dorner claimed was revenge against institutional racism within the force]. Some have called him a monster, others a hero. What was it about his story that you found so fascinating?

LL COOL J: The inspiration came because back when Christopher Dorner was on the run in February 2013, I literally got calls from high level law enforcement officers asking me to stay in the house. They thought I looked so much like the guy that I was in danger of accidentally being shot by a SWAT team. I was doing a show, and the LAPD told me to cancel it! So, I started going down this rabbit hole on Google. When I discovered what he was actually talking about [in his manifesto], I saw so much correlation between the racism he claimed he was experiencing within the department and what people were going through in the real world. It inspired me to write the song. I wrote it with no censorship and I threw all caution to the wind; it was pure inspiration.

Before you spoke about feeling creatively revived. I imagine a lot of that must come from being blessed with this funky Q-Tip production. That man is a musical genius, right?

LL COOL J: You know, sonically speaking, he’s so thoughtful. The one thing people don’t understand about Q-Tip is that he’s a real musician. Maybe other rap producers just have a good ear or they move a few switches around, but all the instruments you hear on THE FORCE, well, Q-Tip was playing them live! Dude was messing around on the bass, the piano, directing studio musicians, and flipping samples [in real-time]. That kind of producer brings out something special in you, definitely. The majority of my records, so I would say 90% of my songs, I’m not really trying to show off my ability to rhyme. I’m really just writing a song based on what feels good. In musical terms, it’s like a guitarist who has the ability to play a Jimi Hendrix-level solo, but most of the time they play simple chords. It’s a lot of restraint. But because of Q-Tip’s production, I did the opposite this time around.

“Black Code Suite” might be my favorite song of the year. The way the Spanish guitar comes in on the second half of the track, and that raw bounce the keys carry, it all just creates this big fucking smile in musical form. You’ve got this bar: “The operation is flagrant, so reparations we take them/ And we’ve been patiently waiting.” Do you believe Black Americans will be paid reparations for slavery in your lifetime? Or is that just a pipe dream?

LL COOL J: No, reparations will happen! I can’t speak to my lifespan and all that, but it’s bound to happen. There’s just something about the scales of justice and the way the universe works… it’s beyond me and you. The people know what’s right in their souls, and when the soul says something is right, something will happen eventually. It’s like a bamboo tree, right? You plant it and it takes forever to grow, then one day it’s suddenly all the way up.

“Father” (1987), “I Can’t Live Without My Radio” (1985), And Nostalgia For The Analog Era

Let’s take it back to your entry into the game. I love how “I Can’t Live Without My Radio” immortalizes that pre-streaming era, where if you wanted a copy of your favorite song you literally had to sit by the radio for hours and hit record when it finally came on. You were the type of kid whose boombox was his best friend, right?

LL COOL J: Oh, 100%. I remember I had this old kitchen radio in my grandmother’s house. Man, that static? It sounded like heaven to me! I think it was from the 1960s and, well, that little speaker was my whole world. When it came to the boombox, I was like a lion laying in the bushes, watching a herd walk past and ready to pounce. That’s how I was waiting for my favorite songs to come on the radio [and to be able to press record], whether it was lifted from the DJ Red Alert show or Marley Marl. Maybe even Mr. Magic or the Awesome Two [Special K and Teddy Ted]. Those were the days.

The George Michael-sampling “Father” is still such a powerful piece of storytelling to me. The way you talk about your dad and how he beat your mother, even shooting her in the back, and how seeing this chaos at just four-years-old “didn’t feel like love.” You also rap about your grandfather Eugene on that song with so much respect, touching on how he was that rare positive male role model during your childhood. I know he gave you a guitar when you were just eight years old and encouraged you to make music. He was a saxophone player, too, right?

LL COOL J: He played the tenor saxophone, yes. Because of him, I listened to a lot of jazz and big band records. The rhythm and dynamics of the saxophone always excited me; I tried to flow in a similar way. That was just some of the coolest music ever, man. You had Glenn Miller, Tommy Dorsey, Count Basie, Duke Ellington, even Cab Calloway. That music is in my DNA. I studied it all. My grandfather? He was super cool. I have old black and white photographs of him in his jazz band, hair slicked back and looking as clean as a piece of chicken ready to be boiled or fried. He was the man!

Being Hip-Hop’s First “Lover Boy” In The 1980s And Touring With The Beastie Boys (1987)

People forget that when a song like “I Need Love” came out in 1987, you got a lot of hate for being so vulnerable. There was an infamous show in London where the crowd literally threw coins at you for performing it. But you had to suffer through all that so, say, a Nelly or a Drake could occupy that “lover boy” lane in the future.

LL COOL J: That’s just part of the art. It’s the risk of creation and breaking new ground or being artistically courageous. It’s no different from Salvador Dali, you know, when he would create those paintings with the huge butts and the critics were [initially] dismissive. When I stepped into an area of vulnerability and heartbreak, it was different to what rap fans were accustomed to! Yes, I dealt with some hate, but it never discouraged me from continuing to create.

Another song from that era I love was “Dear Yvette.” I wondered, was she a real person?

LL COOL J: [Laughs] Yvette was a blend of a few different women and situations. It definitely was a real archetype, let’s put it that way.

So, these songs suddenly take off and you’re performing them on the Def Jam Tour with Public Enemy and The Beastie Boys. Is there one memory that crystallizes just how much fun that point of your life was?

LL COOL J: Okay, so this is the most random thing to talk about, but MCA from the Beastie Boys kicked me! I guess he was laying drunk on the equipment rack or something and I was teasing him, and this dude just lost it and kicked me right in the chest. He was serious, too, but I didn’t want to fight. I loved him for that moment! It was the funniest shit in the world. Me and my man were rolling. I loved The Beasties! Did you know that Public Enemy used my hype man [E-Love] for the silhouette on their famous crosshairs logo? We all had a fucking ball on those Def Jam tours.

The East Vs. West Beef And Trading Bars With Biggie On The “Flava In Ya Ear” Remix (1994)

Talk to me about the first time you heard Biggie’s verse on Craig Mack’s “Flava In Ya Ear” remix. That’s got to be the one moment in your career where you put your hands up and said: “Yeah, Biggie washed me.”

LL COOL J: Hell no! That’s like playing basketball with someone and they have a great game and score a lot of points. That doesn’t mean that you can’t play ball! I’ve never felt that any rapper I’ve got on a song with beat me, to be honest with you. “Ni***s is mad I get more butt than ashtrays/ Fuck a fair one, I get mine the fast way.” Biggie definitely killed it and used different techniques, but I felt great about what I rapped, too, especially the Piranha line. You’re going to have moments where people love somebody else more than you on a song; it comes with the territory as an MC. But I don’t trip off that, ever. A lot of the time, it’s as simple as you being the first guy to record their verse, which gives the other emcee the competitive advantage.

That so-called “East vs West beef” in the 1990s resulted in hip hop losing two superstars in 2Pac and Biggie. What was that like to live through?

LL COOL J: There was no East vs West beef! That was just two camps who had problems with one another and the media decided to blow it up into something else. I definitely think it went further than it needed to go. One of the things: Whenever I had hip-hop beef, I kept it on the records. I was around a lot of street guys growing up, so I know how dangerous that life can be. I never played around with it, not one bit.

When you see drill rappers recording songs about their enemy’s dead friends and family members, does it feel like no real lessons were learned from what happened back then?

LL COOL J: It’s just so dangerous today, man. The drill artists have to be careful where they set shows up at. Some of them can’t even go back to their hometown! That’s a rough choice. Sadly, some people are only built for drama, and that’s how they decide to live out their lives. In many ways, 2Pac and Biggie became this precursor to drill music.

Acting Opposite A Parrot In Deep Blue Sea (1999)

Let’s go into your acting career. One of the roles I loved as a kid is the chef, Preach, who you play in Deep Blue Sea and how you’re trying so hard to stop your pet parrot from getting eaten by a big ass shark. What was that experience like?

LL COOL J: We actually got two of them joints! The first bird kept biting my ears, because I had diamond earrings on. He was nibbling my earlobe, man! He thought my earlobe was a chopped cheese sandwich! He thought he was going to Chipotle or something for dinner. That bird just kept pecking at my ear, so we got rid of his ass! The second bird was thankfully a lot calmer and I liked him a whole lot more.

Are there any actors you’ve worked with in Hollywood who were just as difficult as that bird?

LL COOL J: Every now and then you meet someone who is a little too fancy for their pants and all that, you know what I am saying? But I just stay away from those types, because I find them boring. Being an asshole doesn’t accomplish anything.

“We The Greatest” With Eddie Van Halen (2013)

I know it’s a deep cut, but I love “We The Greatest” with Eddie Van Halen and how his temper-tantrum-esque guitar sound cuts right through your rhymes. Seeing him shred like that in the studio must have been glorious.

LL COOL J: Oh my god; I remember he brought in this big monster set of guitars and did everything off the top! One day I am going to remix that song, because I still feel like it needs to be heard by more people. It sounded more like a demo. Eddie was just so warm and funny. We used to hang out together and ride around LA. That was my friend for real. What did Eddie show me about life? He showed me how a real bonafide rock star should move. You have to be humble and unpretentious. He was never arrogant, ever. There were no studio tricks. He brought in his equipment and started playing and it instantly sounded magical.

Billy Ray Cyrus’ Cover Of “Mama Said Knock You Out”

I went down this YouTube rabbit hole and found a cover of “Mama Said Knock You Out” by Billy Ray Cyrus. Is that the weirdest ever cover of one of your songs?

LL COOL J: There’s been so many random covers! I think the one that was most surprising to me was when the Irish folk singer Luka Bloom did an acoustic cover of “I Need Love.” That was unbelievable. Five Finger Death Punch also did a cover of “Mama Said Knock You Out” and it sounded real hard. Billy Ray Cyrus maybe wasn’t on my bingo card, but it’s all good.

“Go Cut Creator Go” (1987)

Whenever I interview an artist, I try to find a lyric that I think summarizes their legacy. When you said, “Stop the rich and shake hands with the poor” over that fun-loving “Johnny B. Goode” sample on “Go Cut Creator Go,” I think it said a lot about your artistic aims. Mainstream rap has lost touch with elevating the poor, hasn’t it? It’s important to be the opposite.

LL COOL J: Thank you for noticing. You know, that was really important for me with THE FORCE. I wanted to make a record that wasn’t elitist and only addresses the idea of having money. I wanted these lyrics to connect with the real people out on the street. When you listen to these songs, there’s a spirit of humanity that runs through all of them. There’s a connection with the regular people. You can make it to an elite level and generate billions of dollars, sure, but that doesn’t mean you carry the elite gene. The elites like Stevie Wonder, Bob Dylan, and Bob Marley all made music that will last forever, and that’s because it continues to inspire the poor. The things that stand the test of time are the songs that have a universal connection. Rappers need to talk about more than just money and their girlfriends. Hip hop must always aim to elevate the soul.

And, if you could give some advice to your teenage self right now, what exactly would it be?

LL COOL J: It’s gonna be okay. Oh, and go invest in Walmart!