Drew Howard — also known as 88 Camino — is a jubilant and significant part of today's Toronto rap tapestry. Howard was once a part of the downtown, Kensington Market-based collective Get Home Safe (GHS): the group that produced Jazz Cartier, and was responsible for throwing some of the city's wildest and grimiest hip-hop parties through 2013 and 2014 at their home, poetically-titled "The Palace" (the Weeknd's "King of the Fall " video famously cameo-ed their spot, along with many of GHS' members.) But GHS is dead, all of its members have gone onto do their own things, and now Howard, at 24 years old, is confronting an uncomfortable reality: the party doesn't last forever. With two singles under his belt, "Anuva Wun" and "You're Not My Mans," Howard is back in the arena of the Internet with his video for the latter.A dark and humorous flip on the song's lyrics, the video for "You're Not My Mans" is not about getting revenge or telling a fake friend to fuck off. Rather, it is quite literally about a girl rejecting Howard in the most drawn out and uncomfortable way possible—over the course of a nighttime date. Even though the visuals harken back to the GHS days, things have changed: Howard has become completely sober, amongst many other things. Thus, we took a daylight stroll around downtown Toronto's south-side neighbourhood and chatted about his new outlook on his role in rap music.
Drew Howard: I've been sober for three months now. Attaining sobriety wasn't an arbitrarily-based decision, or due to me being self-aware enough to make this decision consciously. I sort of hit that 'fork in the road' where the trajectory of your life and happiness depends on it. Let's just say I was far from a pleasant drunk and that drugs and alcohol were this kind of adversary that needed to be bodied once and for all. Speaking about my sobriety has been challenging and I've actually been quite reluctant to. It's a sensitive subject and can also make you come off as "holier than thou" or condescending. I'm of the [belief] that we're all of various walks of life and this just happens to be mine currently."You're Not My Mans" materialized in a substance-induced setting like the majority of my music at that time, so I didn't really think that much about it, but looking back, I think there's this innate compulsion that drives us to compartmentalize and define things — it's part of human nature. Even though there is always an underlying harmony or crossover, we focus on differences as opposed to similarities or nuances. This is why we obviously have cultures and subcultures and ways of classifying things and people etcetera. [It] was me attempting to cater to [that] single narrative.Considering the song is such a hype anthem, it was surprising to see the video feature a girl rejecting a guy, rather than the typical, macho, fuck-a-fake-friend vibe we're used to. Do you consider yourself a black sheep among the aggressiveness and masculinity and rap?
With "YNMM," having a gang of niggas gesturing belligerently into the camera was too obvious of a concept. I do cater to aggressive, masculine rap narratives at times, because in some ways it's a part of my identity, but it doesn't define me and I don't want it to. The video offers a juxtaposition to that. I don't consider myself a black sheep, but there's a level of self awareness that I want to continue expanding on with my work.
It's what I'm accustomed to, because it's what I grew up around. It's a part of my world I feel like I try to be tolerant and understanding of but limit my exposure to. Being sober helps with this. I don't feel comfortable being a spokesperson because I'm still learning, but I hope it comes across in what I'm doing [and] people learn from me [based off example.]Just like in "Uncle Tona," Chinatown and Kensington appear frequently in this video. It's a very neo-Asian vibe. What keeps drawing you back to that area?
Aesthetically, Kensington for me has always had a post-apocalyptic, dystopian feel to it because it's this melting pot of cultures set in an urban environment. On a personal level it's where my life began and started to take form. It's where I met and lived with some of my closest niggas to date.You mentioned that you want to keep what you're doing grunge and get harder with your sound and style, but you're doing it sober. Do you feel comfortable putting yourself out there like that as a pioneer of sorts — for Toronto, at least?
I feel like it's a more subtle approach, especially being sober. I'm not extremely vocal about these things, but I think they'll come across in what I do and how I act and in interviews like this. Hopefully someone will read this and come to realize that they don't need to subscribe to every element of a culture to be a part of it and enjoy it. Jake Kivanc is open to being the mans you deserve. Follow him on Twitter.Photo by The .97
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Noisey: So you've said that you're turning over a new leaf—both getting completely sober and trying to move in a more positive direction. With that in mind, where did the idea for "You're Not My Mans" come from, and what does it mean to your now?
Drew Howard: I've been sober for three months now. Attaining sobriety wasn't an arbitrarily-based decision, or due to me being self-aware enough to make this decision consciously. I sort of hit that 'fork in the road' where the trajectory of your life and happiness depends on it. Let's just say I was far from a pleasant drunk and that drugs and alcohol were this kind of adversary that needed to be bodied once and for all. Speaking about my sobriety has been challenging and I've actually been quite reluctant to. It's a sensitive subject and can also make you come off as "holier than thou" or condescending. I'm of the [belief] that we're all of various walks of life and this just happens to be mine currently.
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With "YNMM," having a gang of niggas gesturing belligerently into the camera was too obvious of a concept. I do cater to aggressive, masculine rap narratives at times, because in some ways it's a part of my identity, but it doesn't define me and I don't want it to. The video offers a juxtaposition to that. I don't consider myself a black sheep, but there's a level of self awareness that I want to continue expanding on with my work.
How do you navigate the Toronto rap scene, being that it's built so much on the after party vibe and hypermasculinity, without trying to educate everybody you run into on misogyny and oppression?
It's what I'm accustomed to, because it's what I grew up around. It's a part of my world I feel like I try to be tolerant and understanding of but limit my exposure to. Being sober helps with this. I don't feel comfortable being a spokesperson because I'm still learning, but I hope it comes across in what I'm doing [and] people learn from me [based off example.]Just like in "Uncle Tona," Chinatown and Kensington appear frequently in this video. It's a very neo-Asian vibe. What keeps drawing you back to that area?
Aesthetically, Kensington for me has always had a post-apocalyptic, dystopian feel to it because it's this melting pot of cultures set in an urban environment. On a personal level it's where my life began and started to take form. It's where I met and lived with some of my closest niggas to date.You mentioned that you want to keep what you're doing grunge and get harder with your sound and style, but you're doing it sober. Do you feel comfortable putting yourself out there like that as a pioneer of sorts — for Toronto, at least?
I feel like it's a more subtle approach, especially being sober. I'm not extremely vocal about these things, but I think they'll come across in what I do and how I act and in interviews like this. Hopefully someone will read this and come to realize that they don't need to subscribe to every element of a culture to be a part of it and enjoy it. Jake Kivanc is open to being the mans you deserve. Follow him on Twitter.Photo by The .97