In rap's sanctified Compton triptych, the first gilded panel you see belongs to Eazy-E, the centerpiece houses Dr. Dre, and the third frame belongs to one DJ Quik (David Marvin Blake), the Funkadelic-formed rapper/producer extraordinaire. Quik's 1991 groove-carved platinum release Quik Is the Name helped usher in a most beautiful West Coast G-funk sound. Quik utilized live instrumentation over samples to float his throaty, lazed flow. His subject matter spells out gangsta narratives of players and bounties of the game. Quik's beats, always massively danceable, work well with his penchant for the party rap. Quik's production and collaborations through the years link him to the land of hiphop giants: Ice Cube, Snoop Dogg, Nate Dogg, Tupac Shakur, 50 Cent, Raphael Saadiq, the Roots, and Suga Free, to name a few. In 2011, Quik's album The Book of David very much made the statement that he's still making solid music. Quik spoke by phone from a northern Los Angeles locale.

Where are you? I'm in a top-secret laboratory underground, and we're making nuclear weapons—please don't tell anybody.

Who are the nuclear weapons for? They're for Dennis Rodman and his lips.

You have multifaceted skills—writing, rapping, producing. How have you evolved over the years? From Quik Is the Name to now? One way I evolved is that I revolved. I'm just going back to what I do. I'm not trying to reinvent the wheel. Music's changing, things are different. It's a more tear-driven game. It's more ratchet music or trap that people are doing and people are liking. I'm sticking an ear into everything, and as a producer or an engineer, I'm trying to get a tolerance for it. It's like broccoli and brussels sprouts. After a while, I'll like it, it just needs lots of butter and cheese.

You can speak to some origins in rap music, to what rappers in LA were doing as an art form in the late '80s. People associate groups of artists with movements in art. Like the surrealists with Ernst and Dali. And the beat writers with Kerouac and Ginsberg in San Francisco. I think about Ice-T, N.W.A., and you in the same way. Yeah, you know, it's like a little frat. Myself, Dre, and Cube. Now there's Kendrick and Problem. With Eazy and N.W.A., we had a hotbed. I don't even know if we knew that was going to happen. We were just doing what we wanted to do. When we started in music it was just about equality. We were all pumped up off of Eric B and Rakim, and Public Enemy, and we wanted to make movement music like that. Conscience, but at the same time getting across what we love—money and bitches. Pussy and the power. Pussy and the money. We were kids having fun with it, and who knew it would make such an indelible mark on the music industry. To see the resurgence means that it was all worthwhile; to see, 20 years later, Kendrick Lamar up for the album of the year Grammy. These things are amazing.

I'm gonna throw a name at you: Tupac Shakur. What's the first thing that comes to mind? His eyes. The strength of his eyes. To see Tupac go through so many changes when he got out of jail—knowing him before and after—to see how incensed he was, was a little unnerving, but it was also like he was whipping everybody into shape. It was crazy to see. Not like he was a dictator, but more of a coach. Charged up and getting everybody to work like he worked. Nobody's as much of a workaholic as that guy. But man, just some of the things he left with me. He could talk to you without saying words, and that's a wonderful thing about him, he got his point across just by looking at you. I wish it didn't turn out like it did, because we still need him. And I'm sure that music would be in a much different place if he and Biggie were alive. I think it would be much more fun and not as melancholy. After they died, you know, things got sad. There were all these dedications to them, and we hate that—why not just have them here, alive? Unfortunately, shit happens, and that's just kinda what it is. But I miss the power in Tupac's eyes. It's still hard to believe he's gone. I miss him. Touring with him was pretty educational.

There's a rapper in Seattle, Gifted Gab, who's very much on the come up. She's opening for you in Seattle. She's great, and raps like a boxer bobs and weaves. She's a big fan of yours, so I got her to give me a couple of questions for you. Gab asks, "What is the key to longevity in the game? Like, there are too many 'right now' rappers. In a couple years, the majority of these muhfuckas are gonna be lost in the sauce. Nobody's gonna remember them. What makes a timeless classic, or what do you do to stay relevant without, like, selling out?" Hello, Gab. Nice to meet you. See you in Seattle. We call those "right now rappers" microwave music. Me personally, I don't put any effort into trying to keep up with anybody, 'cause you'll never be able to do that. Like Kobe, he can't keep up with all those young knees out there on the court. There's a natural progression. Ride the horse for as long as you can, and ride your race. I stayed in my lane, and I continue to do that. With the artists I work with, the Mack 10s and whatnot, we do music that we know. We're not trying to do the little bouncy records, no disrespect to J. Cole. We do what we do, and that's music that we feel good about, that we know the homeboys in Inglewood and Compton don't like. We're still tryin' to impress them guys. Even if they don't buy records anymore, that's how we stay true.

Gab's second question: "What was your biggest inspiration? Who or what made you wanna make music?" I got tired of being broke. Fuck that [laughs]. I'm not trying to sell cocaine. I was scared to death. Motherfuckers trying to rob me. I couldn't sleep. I commend anybody for being able to be in the dope game back then, but money comes and goes so quickly, it don't matter. You gotta stay on that horse. It's here today, gone tomorrow, so I had to get out of that world. I started investing in equipment and learning from engineers how to get my chops up so I could have a sound. And now I have a sound that's very distinguishable from everything else.

I know you're a George Clinton fan. Oh yeah. I'm sitting here looking at a plaque right now—Funkadelic's One Nation Under a Groove platinum record that he signed to my friend Brian Gardner. He signed the record. He took the thing out of the case and signed the vinyl. Brian mastered it.

Who do you listen to these days? I like Kendrick. He's on a stellar run right now. I like everything Pharrell's doing. Pharrell's on fire right now. I like Lorde's "Royals," that's a hot record. I bought Beyoncé's album. Rolling Stone was correct how they graded the record, I get it. She set a trend with releasing it in secret. That was just amazing. And she shot all the videos. That's really super dope. Marketing-wise, that's just one of the more brilliant moves. Of course Jay Z's album is good. Yeezus took a little bit of growing on me. I had to listen to it twice to understand where he was coming from, and then I ended up getting it. He's just eccentric, you know. I fuck with Kanye. I like A$AP Ferg, and A$AP Rocky, they jammin,' and I like the dude Future.

In Seattle, we're Macklemore crazy. Macklemore, Macklemore, Macklemore. Yeah. He's up for album of the year. He and Ryan Lewis. It's a good album. Brian Gardner mastered it.

Did I read a thing where you announced you were finished engineering and remixing for other people? I did say that, yeah. I don't see the importance of teaching anybody else tricks that cost a lot to learn. I've spent millions of dollars experimenting with music—my own money. I can't just give that to somebody. I can't just teach people my tricks. They gotta learn on their own. Engineering has gotten to place where anybody can make an album in their bedroom. But I'll never show 'em the real stuff anymore. I used to be liberal with that, and share it, and let people sit in on my mixing sessions and shit, but never again. What I do is totally top-secret. It's nobody's fucking business. Fuck these kids, they want all the shit for free [laughs]. Because they're young. It's like, y'all motherfuckers is crazy. Engineering and mixing a song is a job that can pay between five and fifteen thousand dollars a song to really mix it. And remixing is complicated, it's a very involved process. But when motherfuckers is calling me, trying to get me to mix their songs for like a thousand dollars, or for a verse? I'm not gonna trade you rapping on my motherfucking album, and I mix your song. Because you get my sound. You get my perception of you in the world. And I know how to make people sound like stars. That's my trick. I know how to make you sound big as fuck on records. That's just what I do. I can't just give that to everybody. That's exclusive.

What's the key to a good a dis track? Unfortunately, hostility. Anger. Alcohol. A little weed. And some of your homies in the studio with you to pump you up and go hard. Gimme something else to say about this bitch-ass nigga. [Switches to homie's voice] "Yeah, man, talk about his mama." No no! We need something better than that. [Back to his homie's voice] "Talk about his ho." [Laughs] See, you need your homies in there to pump you up. I'll tell you something funny, I got into an actual fistfight when I was working on "Dollars and Sense" for the Death Row soundtrack Murder Was the Case. I chased a motherfucker down the street with a belt, trying to hit him with the buckle. Out in front of the recording studio. He came in there and said something funny to me when I was rapping that song, and I had no patience. I came out and hit the nigga, fucked him all up and shit. I was out of my motherfucking mind. Crazy as hell. Working on that goddamn song. When I listen back to it, I think, "I needed to chill out just a little bit." I didn't want to associate with shit like that. I wanted us to be cool. So the Source magazine and XXL would be shocked. But he didn't get with me on that. And I went crazy. But we're cool now.

What are your current sets like? I don't have the hype man that I used to have. I pretty much rock out alone. I got my son with me, he's producing now and he's having fun with it. He's gonna take it all the way. He's a super talent. He's just like me, just 23 years younger. So he's on the set with me. I also got an artist, Gift Reynolds, from Detroit with me. He's my enforcer. And you know I play guitar now, so I jam "Let's Get Down." Actually, I just ran into Raphael Saadiq, and he loves what I'm doing onstage with "Let's Get Down." The Tony Toni Tone, you know. There are the classics, and I got new music, too, so there's a lot going on. It's kind of a discography. From my first stuff, all my platinum records, and all the stuff I produced. The Truth Hurts stuff. I helped Dr. Dre with 50 Cent's "In Da Club," and Eminem's "My Dad's Gone Crazy." Classic records, all the way up into my new shit. And then back to the old shit, too. That's what I mean when I say re-volve. It's not an evolve. I'm not going anywhere new because there's nothing new under the sun. I'm just going back to what I do best.

What kind of guitar do you play? What do you like? I play a Fender Strat and an Epiphone Les Paul. Like 335 knockoff.

Who are guitar players that you're into? Rob Bacon has taught me a lot. He's my original producer. He's going to produce my second album. He's part of the Posse 2.0 on the Arsenio Hall Show. I also like Andy Summers from the Police. I copy him a little bit. I like the way he plays bar chords. And another friend of mine, Dave Foreman, who played on Aaliyah's "Rock the Boat," he used to play with Barry White.

What effects pedals do you like? What do you go with? I was in Japan and I got a bass envelope filter that I use for guitar that's kinda awesome. I got two Moogerfoogers. And I got a Moog resonance filter. Come on, man, I'm really fucking with it. I got a Fender Twin amp. With reverb and distortion, and chorus. I got overdrive. I want to really learn how to shred that thing.

Fuck Jimmy Page. Oh, he's the shit. I'll never be able to play like that. I don't think I'll live long enough to get that virtuoso. But my motherfucker on guitar is Eddie Van Halen. I met him. And just being around Eddie Van Halen was, like, oh my God. Even if I don't know how to play, I'm gonna pick this motherfucker up and try, just because he said it's not that hard to do.

Plus Eddie Van Halen wore the sweet suspender outfits. That's it, man. Straight body work. With biker pants, too. That was wild. That was for the girls. Long hair and a bulge [laughs]. Rock and roll.

Everybody in Seattle is excited for your show. Thank you. I hope to impress. I still sound like myself. I still look like myself. I'm one of the older guys in hiphop and I look like I'm in my 20s or 30s.

How do you keep it up? I'm gonna be honest with you—some good pussy. You gotta find somebody you really like and fuck 'em all the time [laughs]. And I don't do coke. I drink a little bit, and have fun. Eat as healthy as I can. Sometimes I eat like a pig, but everything in moderation, that's what I try for. You know, I worked for a lot of other people and did my thing with 'em, now I'm doing if for myself. And I'm launching my son, so I can back that shit up and go get me a yacht, and come set up off y'all's coast. I'm gonna sail up to Seattle on my boat, and sit out there, laid back. It's time to do this, and then put myself out to pasture. recommended