Lanz Khan & Sick Budd: Audio canvases between Style, Culture, and Vision.

At the end of June, “Jack di Quadri” was released, which we can consider the natural follow-up to “Jack di Fiori” from 2022. When and how did your artistic connection begin? And what motivated you to create not just one, but two full collaborative rapper/producer albums together?

SICK BUDD: Our artistic bond started just before the pandemic (late 2019). We met in the studio and initially planned to work on something small—maybe one or two tracks. Later, we ran into each other again at the release party for Piano B(Silent Bob’s first album), and talked about doing something bigger. During the first lockdown, we felt inspired to create something more extensive—a full album. Around that time, we were both listening to similar music, and it felt natural to unite those tastes.

We had known each other for years, but this was the first time we collaborated on something concrete musically. While working on the first record, Lanz already had in mind the idea of continuing the saga with multiple chapters—a “big picture” plan.

Personally, I’m always motivated by fully realized projects rather than singles. I can bring a complete musical vision to the entire production of an album. It’s more common for producers to work with artists on a few tracks rather than an entire album. I’ve always been a huge fan of sagas that are well thought out both sonically and visually. This isn’t about making a compilation of catchy songs.

LANZ KHAN: I’ve known Buddy for many years, but we had never collaborated before. During the pandemic, I released Collana di Perle, an album that had a long creative process, which gave me many new ideas to start a fresh project. I’d been following Buddy for a while because, in recent years, he’d made some significant stylistic upgrades. Not long after, we met in the studio for a session. After laying down a couple of tracks, we decided to make a full album together—and that’s what happened.

Also, the title Jack di Fiori had been in my mind for a long time, along with the idea of making it the first part of a saga, with an aesthetic framework that tells the story of the project in another form. So continuing with Jack di Quadri felt natural and immediate.

The title “Jack di Quadri,” like the previous “Jack di Fiori,” refers to the world of playing cards, poker. But knowing the richness of references Lanz usually draws from, we imagine there are deeper or hidden meanings. How did the idea for these titles come about? Is a “poker” of projects already planned? And how does the title reflect the identity of the album and the meeting of your two worlds?

SICK BUDD: The titles come from an artistic journey by Lanz, who from the start envisioned a poker of projects. It’s an independent path that wants to take its time with all the related care. For me, it’s an opportunity to produce exclusively “art,” connected to the listening journey I’ve been on since I started exploring this genre.

LANZ KHAN: Finding the titles and the references to work with is one of the aspects I enjoy most, because it allows me to develop ever-new semantic spheres with different nuances. In the context of the diptych made up of Jack di Fiori and Jack di Quadri, the figure of the Jack should be understood as a sort of liminal mediator, suspended between the high and the low, between the inaccessible royalty of the K (King) and the restless people represented by the first ten cards.

The Jack, in fact, doesn’t have the power of the K nor the anonymity of the numbers: he’s a courtier and a saboteur, a link between disjointed worlds. I live this concept with the mentality of an urban monk, closed in his bubble yet at the same time immersed in the crowd.

From this perspective, the bars (lyrics) are the expression of a sort of lyrical ninjutsu. Ultimately, the Jack is a kind of alter-ego of mine and embodies the ambiguity of appearance, the decadent allure of the ephemeral, a refined trickster who dances between esoteric symbols and carnal impulses. He’s the standard-bearer of sensual aesthetics, masking, and linguistic sorcery.

In Jack di Quadri, he transforms into the curator of a sound gallery that takes on the traits of a subversive carnival where art itself is understood as both a criminal and sacred act. Quadri (just as with Fiori) is not just a seed, but a multiplication of visions: the Jack is its unstable interpreter, the hieratic jester who challenges hierarchies.

In both albums, then, the Jack is the symbol of the artist-messenger, the one who moves on the margin, who translates chaos into form and form into critique, never fully belonging to any realm.

As for the meeting of our two worlds, I have to say that Buddy has always shown not only an appreciation for my aesthetic journey but, above all, the sensitivity to accompany it in the best possible way, giving it an additional musical depth. For me, he is a figure bordering on a sound designer, because in these projects the intertwining of words, music, and images is particularly dense and meaningful, and each album has its own recognizable sonic atmosphere.

Staying on the topic of identity: how did you arrive at a shared creative synthesis? Did you immediately find a mutual understanding on the project’s direction, or were there moments of discussion? And can you share some “behind the scenes” stories from your studio work?

SICK BUDD: The fact that we decided to work together on albums came from the idea of pursuing “a sound.” I produced the entire first album (Jack Di Fiori) during lockdown without knowing when we could record it, so Lanz used to send me lyrics to start giving me a sense of the project’s direction.

For the second one, in terms of production, I worked mostly alone in the studio because whenever I made a beat that fit the project, I sent it to him. We had lots of discussions beforehand, talking about the direction the album should take and the samples we would need. Since we both have a deep knowledge of the craft, these quick exchanges before each project were enough for us to know exactly where we wanted to go.

LANZ KHAN: The answer here is short: we arrived at it with extreme naturalness, and the chemistry was immediate. We always discuss things at the start of each project, but since we have very similar tastes, we easily found a synthesis that satisfied us both.

As for “behind the scenes,” I can tell you about the ritual that precedes every recording session — Sick Budd’s “coffee bitter like life,” as he’s a passionate coffee blend enthusiast and always has new ones in the studio for me to try.

What has impressed you most about each other’s artistic abilities, and what do you think makes this duo so effective?

LANZ KHAN: After nearly twenty years in rap, I can tell you that Buddy has a 360° producer’s vision, which definitely helps someone like me who mainly moves by instinct. His versatility means that the vision I have in mind can translate into ever-new nuances, and this is extremely inspiring. He has a great ear for samples, creates beats from scratch, knows how to orchestrate his productions, and never repeats the same beat because there’s always a detail that pushes it to the next level.

In my opinion, what makes the duo so effective is the unconditional love for this culture and the desire to deliver projects at the highest possible quality from every perspective.

SICK BUDD: What always strikes me is Lanz’s extreme care in his lyrics, because the sophistication of his references always serves a street narrative. I believe he has a unique writing style and has never put it at the service of money, only culture. Many artists in the more commercial scene have partly drawn from his lyricism to have a strong reference point in the hip-hop landscape and to have an example of the fusion between art and “street culture.” In the underground scene, I find very little that can compete qualitatively.

The duo is effective because we share a common agreement to serve the culture. Economic matters are definitely not at the center of our discussion. 

We try to do our best even in the surrounding aspects: when we have to press vinyl, we try to offer a quality and valuable product. The graphics are made with hand-drawn illustrations. Every step is fundamental in delivering a high-level product.

What were the main influences – musical, cultural, or personal – that guided you in creating the album?

LANZ KHAN: On the musical side, my artistic background definitely plays a role, largely based on listening to and absorbing groups like Wu-Tang, the Griselda collective, Mobb Deep, Sean Price, Big L, Smoothe Da Hustla, Non-Phixion, GangStarr, Jay-Z, and many others. On the other hand, my inspirations also come significantly from the worlds of art, cinema, and literature.

For Jack di Quadri, I looked more towards contemporary art, while for Jack di Fiori I was more influenced by works from the 18th and 19th centuries. A strong influence that I maintained in both works is represented by illustrations from Japanese authors such as Toshio Saeki, Suehiro Maruo, and Yoshikazu Ebisu.

However, the final result is always something unpredictable, because you also have to put into it the emotional state of the moment, the need not to repeat yourself, the trajectory of the specific project, and many other factors.

SICK BUDD: If we think about the genre we’re pushing forward, we can say it’s representable through a time tunnel that goes from Mobb Deep to the whole Griselda scene, passing through Alchemist, Wu-Tang, Schoolboy Q, etc. The biggest influences are really these two extreme limits that guide the sonic choices. I started wanting to make beats after hearing Mobb Deep’s The Infamous. Griselda, instead, made me think there was still hope for rap at a time when it seemed like there was room only for trap.

There are several references to the world of writing in the album, including the single “TAGGO SUL DUOMO,” which even samples the sound of spray paint. Where does the desire to evoke this imagery come from? How was this track specifically born? Any anecdotes behind it?

LANZ KHAN: Speaking of art, I couldn’t avoid including references to one of the art forms that shaped me the most, which is writing (graffiti). This isn’t the place to debate whether it fits within the conventional definition of art, but what has always fascinated me about writing, and what I decided to evoke in this album, is its disruptive component, which makes it overflowing and totally anarchic with respect to rules, and its ability to rework the object. Let me explain better: in my view, a wall, a train car, or a van is no longer the same thing once it has a tag on it.

There is, moreover, a visceral and sometimes ineffable relationship between a bomber and the urban surface, and in a certain sense, I find an intensity similar to how I feel things. I’ve also always loved the obsession with originality in writing; just copying the loop of a letter and you’re done, and I think this mentality should be brought more decisively into rap as well.

For me, a rapper who sounds like another rapper and uses another rapper’s poetic style—even if American—without developing it clearly is a wack rapper.

Going into specifics, “Taggo sul Duomo” was born with the idea of expressing all these relationships, certainly in a lighter way, that is with the attitude of a banger. The Duomo, in this sense, is the most iconic building in Milan, the one everyone feels represented by.

Saying “taggo sul Duomo” is on one hand a hyperbole of iconicity, because it’s something any sane writer would never do for a thousand reasons. At the same time, however (and here begins the, if you want, more conceptual aspect of the track), it is also an indirect reflection on how these symbols transform over time.

The Duomo is first and foremost a sacred building, which then became a celebrated symbol of Milanese identity. Over time, this symbol turned into a sparse postcard, then into a background for selfies, until it was devoured by giant screens and devices of visual consumption that, in my opinion, transformed it once again into a new, much more decadent symbol.

Therefore, I sarcastically asked myself: if brand X can put an advertising billboard on it, why can’t my tag be there too? The provocation is evident, but it holds a concept: everything transforms.

Among the collaborations, important and diverse names stand out: from DJ Skizo and DJ Double S to En?gma, Murubutu, Nerone, Dani Faiv, all the way to Incis Zone and Lanz’s longtime collaborators like Jangy Leeon and Axos. How did you choose the featured artists? And how did the collaborations with Murubutu, DJ Skizo, the track with Nerone and Double S, or the one with Incis come about?

LANZ KHAN: First of all, we didn’t want to repeat the same features from Jack di Fiori (the only exception being Lexotan on the hooks). Secondly, we looked within our network of contacts and friendships for artists we felt were best suited for this second chapter. With Murubutu, we had a track in the works for some time, and this seemed like the right moment to finalize it. I hadn’t collaborated with Axos, Nerone, Dani Faiv, and Truman in a while, so it was a pleasure to make music with them again. With En?gma and Jangy Leeon, we formed a very close-knit trio on a human level, so having them on the same track felt natural. I had been following Incis for a while, and we immediately found common ground.

Double S and Skizo, instead, fill the scratch gap we left in Jack di Fiori, my only album without any! But beyond all this, they are artists I admire and people I respect even outside of music.

SICK BUDD: In a previous answer, I told you that Lanz is one of the strongest rappers when it comes to underground and raw, unfiltered rap. If Lanz asks you to feature on a rap track in a rap album and you’re a rapper, you can’t say no, because you understand the artistic weight of this project.

Lanz, your lyrics are always rich with vivid imagery, cultured, cinematic, and literary references. Did you follow a specific concept for this project? What narrative direction did you want to take, and where does your connection with the world of writing come from?

LANZ KHAN: The concept, which I partially touched on earlier when I spoke about the figure of the Jack, here shifts to art, as is easily inferred from the title.

Many were eagerly awaiting this second chapter precisely because they wanted to hear an album entirely dedicated to this world, and I must say I was a bit afraid at first of developing a banal idea or, conversely, something excessively cryptic. Consequently, I took some time before starting to write. I laid down the first tracks with a clear mood and some rough subjects already sketched out. Usually, I revise my lyrics a lot, with very long labor limae, but this time I did very little. I wrote almost everything in one go, and it was good on the first try about 90%. This spontaneity, I believe, was the key to making the album I wanted.

As for my connection with graffiti writing, it basically dates back to my beginnings. I got close to Hip-Hop culture around 2003/2004 and immediately tried my hand at every possible discipline. Alas, I quickly realized I was better at using letters in a different way, but I have always loved writing and deeply respected writers. A few years ago, I even picked up markers and spray cans again, but fortunately for the surrounding world, it was a very brief phase. As I mentioned earlier, I find a lot of the mentality of writing reflected in my approach as a rapper.

Is there still room and a market in Italy for underground rap like yours? On an international, but also Italian level, seeing the various “illustrious comebacks” and “reunions,” even the majors seem to want to ride the wave of a resurgence of more “classic” rap. What’s your point of view?

LANZ KHAN: I don’t see it so much as a matter of sound, but more about the values, language, and aesthetics conveyed by the music. Certainly, for certain types of authorship like mine, there is no — and there never will be — room within a certain, more institutional, music industry perimeter. At least if we think about it in terms of the system and trends. At the same time, I believe our task is to carve out our own space without ruling anything out. 

My perspective is to keep going straight on my path like a freight train because, despite the complexities, I always think surprises are just around the corner. The important thing is not to betray yourself, because by doing so you will never betray those who have listened to you for years and given you trust and support.

SICK BUDD, you instead have shown a strong identity as a producer since your work with Silent Bob, through the album with E-Green, up to the recent Narco Blues with Pessimo17, yet you are able to adapt to each artist, enhancing their vision. Where do you think this ability to tailor sounds without ever losing yourself comes from? Is this the real mark of a producer, or is there something more?

SICK BUDD: Like I said before, for me it’s much more fulfilling to follow projects rather than randomly sending out beats. If I work with an artist, it’s because we share a lot musically and at the same time there’s strong mutual respect between us.

I don’t want to be associated only with underground music or only with more commercial music. I’m a lover of music and I need everything each of these two experiences can give me. I’ve taken as references the paths of Alchemist or Harry Fraud, who work both on albums that go platinum and on deeply underground albums of immense artistic value.

It’s a path I’ve rarely seen producers in Italy take: once they emerge in the “big” world, they completely abandon the scene that raised them. But obviously, this is a very personal opinion.

Once you’ve made that choice, it’s important to leave the mark of your own sound on everything you touch, while understanding the specific needs of each project. I have a clear idea of what I want to do and what I don’t want to do.
My path moves on many fronts, but the hip-hop attitude must always remain. These are all projects I’m extremely proud of, and they’ve taught me how to work with different personalities both on a human and musical level. I might not be the right person to produce the single of the year, but maybe we can talk about the right album for the right artist.

What kind of atmosphere did you want to create to accompany Lanz’s rap on this album? Did you follow a precise idea from the start, or did you let yourself be guided track by track?

SICK BUDD: We started with the intention of speeding up the BPM compared to Jack di Fiori, while keeping the stylistic signature focused on a predominantly dark and at times melancholic sound. We exchanged some references and then I began the production. Every time there was something that could fit our vision, I sent it to Lanz. We only discarded about 3-4 beats. We were very well prepared for this project.

JDF, if you want, was a more experimental album because I had pushed the slowness of the Griselda beats to an extreme, bringing them to an even slower timing in some tracks; there are tracks that play at 55 BPM. The collaborations were few because the soundscape lent itself to something more particular. In this album, we wanted to involve people and bring the BPMs back to make you move your head up and down.

In recent years, we’ve seen a return to “classic” rap, made of bars, samples, and slower BPMs. How do you explain this trend, after years in which that sound was labeled as “old”? Where do you think there is a risk of falling into sterile nostalgia, and in which cases can this return still be innovative? And today, who are your most influential artistic references?

SICK BUDD: Probably the trap wave that lasted until 2020 got a bit tiring. From that moment on, I felt it was time to stabilize the rap scene, giving space to the revival of some more classic sounds.

The important thing is: not to just reproduce the ’90s formula, but to treasure it and re-propose it in a more contemporary version. This is called rap, and it’s not worth talking about something older or newer, because trap in the US has been a functional genre for years (long before it was in Italy). It’s not nostalgia if, once you choose a sample, you try to work it in a more current way, also trying to exploit recent technological innovations in the field.

At the moment, my artistic references are J Cole, Joey Bada$$, Pusha T, BigXthaplug, The Alchemist, Kaytranada, Kota The Friend, Larry June, Little Simz, MAVI, Mick Jenkins, Navy Blue, Rick Ross, Schoolboy Q, Tyler The Creator, Mac Miller, Blxst, and many others.

I always keep in mind some artists like J Dilla, MF Doom, Madlib, Kanye West, Jay Z, Mobb Deep, 50 Cent, Lloyd Banks, A$AP Rocky, Wu-Tang, Common, Notorious BIG, A Tribe Called Quest, Gang Starr… they are all artists who still influence me today. Knowing how to “use the influence” these artists have on me, I almost always manage to bring everything back in a modern key.

LISTEN TO “JACK DI QUADRI” AN ALBUM BY LANZ KHAN & SICK BUDD: