In the modern world, when a quiet moment seizes us, the human impulse is to turn to our smartphones. We all do it. Whether we’re at the bus stop, in our dentist’s waiting room, or even experiencing a lull in conversation among friends—the phone answers our call for distraction in those unfilled moments. But for André 3000, the hip-hop extraordinaire who most famously served as one half of OutKast, the impulse is different. He reaches for a flute. This peculiar habit has become part of social media folklore in recent years, with fans surreptitiously grabbing viral clips of André playing his wind instruments out and about in public. He has been known to duck out into the alley for a quick jam while his Starbucks order is being prepared. He plays in the back of taxicabs and Ubers. He even practices at his local laundromat while waiting for the spin cycle to complete.
As to why the multi-millionaire should still be using a laundromat, it’s just another example of the eccentric persona he seems to have cultivated over the years. “I like seasoned, seasoned food. I hate bland food. So, I season my clothes a lot,” André explained in a recent interview with GQ, which took place at said laundromat. This eccentric persona has reached the point of parody in recent times. He was memorably lampooned on the comedy sketch series Key & Peele. Played by Keegan-Michael Key, this exaggerated André bursts into a coffee shop in a green feathered cap and orders a “half-caf decaf mint mocha latte with foam on the bottom served in a flower vase”—with green food coloring thrown in for good measure.
For those who are familiar with André 3000 through these kinds of parodic caricatures, his latest project may seem like another expected turn toward the absurd—because his first album of new material in 17 years is not a long-awaited return to the hip-hop world he is known for carrying a torch in but, instead, an 87-minute instrumental woodwind album that blends ambient, new age and freeform jazz together. Managing expectations, the album artwork for New Blue Sun contains a light-hearted warning label informing listeners that it contains “no bars.” And neither does it contain beats. Though a pulse can be detected on some tracks, the eight ethereal soundscapes that make up the album generally eschew the conventions of musical tempo. Likewise, while André will find a woodwind motif he likes and repeat it over the course of some tracks, the album also ignores the typical structures of musical melody—focusing instead on texture and dynamics.
The album’s greatest success comes in the delicate blending of these unusual sounds. André 3000 splits his contributions between digital wind instruments and a series of traditional flutes, including bamboo, Mayan and contrabass flutes. His co-producer, Carlos Niño, provides percussive spotlights with gongs and chimes. Alongside this, a rotating cast of musicians bring further mysterious sound textures, which are often completely unrecognizable from their source instruments. Listening to a full album of this may feel a little repetitive. But it is not the same type of music as OutKast—nor is it anything like the modern commercial milieu André 3000 might be expected to perform within. It’s a different kind of music and it demands a different way of listening. In a world in which sounds are so often being mixed louder and louder, this is an album that requests listeners play it at low to mid-volume. It’s one to listen to with a contemplative mindset, in a silent room, in meditation, or on a long walk across a quiet landscape.
But although the album is the antithesis of turning it “up to 11,” it strays into Spinal Tap territory via the track titles. For the ethereal and synth-laden second track, André 3000 has chosen the rather long-winded title: “The Slang Word P(*)ssy Rolls Off the Tongue With Far Better Ease Than the Proper Word Vagina. Do You Agree?” It recalls that famous scene from music’s most famous mockumentary, in which Christopher Guest’s character plays a gentle piano composition, only to reveal that his working title is “Lick My Love Pump.”
These silly track titles might be a way for André 3000 to undercut the perceived seriousness of his new project. But they also suggest a sense of trepidation. The name of the first track strikes an almost apologetic tone: “I Swear, I Really Wanted to Make a ‘Rap’ Album but This Is Literally the Way the Wind Blew Me This Time.” But André 3000 should have nothing to apologize for. He does not owe the world any more rap, if that is no longer the way his creative impulses are leading him. It would be easy enough for him to half-heartedly cobble a hip-hop album together with a heap of guest stars and rack up millions of streams. But moving in this decidedly uncommercial new direction is a bolder step, which proves him to be the sincere and genuine artist that his biggest fans always knew he was.
Others may be disappointed by this strange album of avant-garde woodwind music. And it’s understandable that they might want something more akin to the old OutKast records again, rather than more eccentricity ripe for parody. But while most of us doomscroll through the quiet moments of life, with overly-processed music piping from our tinny AirPods, the bizarre and whimsical André 3000—off in a quiet corner playing his meditative flute music—seems increasingly like the sane one in a mad world on New Blue Sun. Maybe we should listen up.
