Rico Nasty on Rock Music, Therapy, Privacy, and Video Games

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OK, getting down to business: Today the newsletter returns from a week-long vacation with someone I've wanted to chat with for a minute now. Rico Nasty's cut a fascinating path in her career thus far, and her new album Lethal (which drops tomorrow) finds her going further in the rock-situated direction than ever before, which she's more than hinted at throughout her catalog at this point. I had a great time hopping on the phone with her to talk about finding her true self as a musician, along with a ton of other topics. Check it out:

How's it going today?
Hi, I just managed to find this crazy wig store and I'm having a blast right now. Oh word.

Where are you at right now?
I'm in L.A.

Do you live in L.A. full-time these days?
I do.

How do you feel about that?
So-so. I still miss home every night. Where are you from?

New Jersey, but I've lived in Brooklyn with my wife for the last 16 years.
I miss the East Coast.

What's the best thing about L.A. for you?
The weather—but it's bad, too. Out here, the rain season kicks your ass, and that's what it does suck with that. I hate that part of L.A. because nobody knows how to

There's clearly a new direction you're heading in with this album, but it's also pretty much where I'd expect you going at this point.
For this album, I just wanted to stay true to myself while also letting shit take me wherever it is. I wasn't trying to be too serious and stuck on one thing, or what people know me for.

Tell me more about pushing yourself in a new direction. What were the risks and rewards?
Vocally, I was so scared to sing. Obviously, I'm already known for an unorthodox voice—but when it comes to trying to sing, I was worried about how that might be received. Then I started realizing that a lot of the artists that I like are known for their voice, and I don't really care how they use it—hearing them is just satisfying. So I got out of my head with that and stopped being so afraid, and that was a reward—realizing, "Damn, I can really push myself."

"Smoke Break" was one of the ones where, ever since the beginning of my career, I felt like I could do a song like that. But I always pulled back and was like, "I don't know how they're going to receive it." But why do I even care? Why does it matter? Just do it.

Do you remember the first time you performed in front of people?
The mic was fucked up, and I was performing for, like, eight people. I was like, "This doesn't feel right." A lot of that came from like rushing to do a show when I didn't even have two songs out. Also, I was excited, and I wanted to get on the stage—but I realized that, too, is an art form that you have to practice and train for.

Little by little, over the years, I just started taking myself more seriously—and I feel like, to everybody, I'm the most serious bitch ever. I don't play with that shit. But I wasn't really taking my craft seriously in a sense where I got comfortable with doing what everybody knows me for—and I'll never do that again.

You used the word "rushing," and if there's one thing about the music industry, it's that as soon as it gets hold of a talented person, it immediately starts rushing their career. I'm curious to hear about your experiences regarding outside forces pushing you in different directions, and how you ended up pushing back.
Well, both the artist and everybody around them can be rushing. I definitely will take accountability for the rushing, because it sounds cool to put it on everybody else—but I feel like I was rushing. I think I got into a space where I thought that I was somewhere in my career that I'm just not at yet. Certain things might look like they were faster for another person, but they might have sacrificed certain things that you've just not seen—and I don't mean that in a demonic way, no crazy shit like that. That person probably just worked harder, and you didn't see them working. Some people don't show how hard they're working.

Once you get into that rat race of looking at what another person is doing...bro you're done. You're done. The joy is stolen, it's ruined, and now you're rushing because you're in competition with a motherfucker who, in reality, can't even see you. That's why they win so hard. Once you look at it like that, it becomes, "Oh, okay, let me take my time." Because the only person who has to sit with this shit is me. This ain't no rat race. We move when we want to move. We do shit how we want to do it. Because at the end of the day, rushing winds up being a waste. You rushing to waste time. It's never worth it in the end.

All of your records that have had rock-based textures that have worked very seamlessly with what you do, so this new record sounds very natural in that respect. What are you reaching for these days when it comes to rock music?
I listen to Glare and Amyl and the Sniffers. I love the Smiths. I just went to the Deftones concert.

Nice, that's awesome. I've never seen them live. That's a bucket list thing for me at this point.
It was the same for me. I was literally telling the person I went with, "Dude, people don't get it. This is my Beyoncé. I'm so excited to be here right now—like, what the fuck? Oh, you know who I got into recently? The Cranberries.

Nice. Have you heard of the British metalcore band Loathe, by the way?
No.

If you like Deftones, you'd like their last record.
They're called Loathe?

Yeah.
Okay, perfect. I'm happy. Yay! That's probably been my favorite part about doing interviews and press recently—y'all can put me onto some crazy music. Y'all are fire for that.

[Editor's Note: A few weeks after we talked, Rico's publicist reached out to pass along a note that Rico is a big fan of Loathe now.]

There was a line in the bio for this record that stood out to me about feeling like you were living "in character." I'd love to hear you unpack that a little more. Being a public-facing artist is quite literally performative, and I've talked to people over the years where it's very easy to lose sight as far as who you are and what you're actually doing.
I feel like we're all characters. We're all branded to be something, And there's certain times where you can just tell when that shit takes over. It's the ego, basically. I guess the ego is the character. Because, like, you don't have to act like that all the fucking time. It gets played out, and I feel like I was living like that—like I had a reputation of being whatever I was. I was so afraid to step out of that and just be myself, because I changed a lot of the things that I liked and I stopped liking them.

I will say, especially when you're a woman, it's almost like changing your mind is never okay. When you spend your career saying, "I like this," and then you wake up and say, "Actually, no, fuck all of that, I don't," Everybody's like, "Oh, so you were faking." No, I wasn't—I just grew up, and I'm not about to wear this costume forever.

Y'all are playing a very scary game, wearing this costume and dressing this shit up for these kids—because these kids don't know the difference between real and fake. That's the biggest thing I've learned as an artist: Even though I don't have responsibility over these people, I kind of do. I influence people to do things all the time, so I should be smarter in what I'm choosing to influence them to do. I just want to influence people to be themselves. Just be you, boo.

Especially with younger people, there is this disconnect from reality that I've seen online. Being online, for everybody, is pretty bad. I feel like, for artists, it's the absolute worst. I saw in the bio that you said you deleted your social media.
Oh, yeah, I don't get on that shit. I get on TikTok, but TikTok is like a sweet treat. After I have a long day, I kick my feet up, rub them together, and I'm on TikTok for an hour, catching up on the tea. But, come on now. It gets to a point. It really do get to a point. I was on Twitter, and sometimes I talk just to talk because I know they would talk back—and that's sick, because these people are not real. Shout out to Doja for acknowledging those parasocial relationships that are not healthy. But, to an extent, I tell them everything, so who is in control?

I had to take control back over my privacy. They don't need to know every time I'm feeling sad. They damn sure don't need to know every time I'm feeling happy. They don't like to see you happy! You have to be protective over yourself and realize that social media—I don't want to say it's a job, because it's not a job. I'm not an influencer, I don't have to post. I like to post—I just don't like the response sometimes, and that's okay. It's the same when I put on an outfit. Sometimes I'm not going to like the looks that I get. It's the same, bro.

It's okay to post and then not get no love, and it's okay to post and the shit go viral—and it's okay to post because you say some dumb shit and people don't agree with it. But if your whole personality is doing out-of-pocket shit to go viral, it gets lame and played out. It's a costume.

Yeah, you mentioned Doja, and when she started speaking out against this parasocial fan stuff and was getting so much hate for it, I was like, "She's right!" A couple years later, now everyone's like, "She's extremely right." It's the smartest thing somebody like her could do, honestly.
Yeah—like, you guys don't know us. Y'all don't know me. What I show you, y'all are lucky to see that. Honestly, as an artist, you do have to take the power back and realize that you don't have to do shit. That's another part of what I was talking about with rushing. You got a whole team of people telling you that you have to do something—I don't have to do nothing, but I have to pay y'all, and y'all have to do a fucking job. We don't have to do shit, and I think that being a girl and having this sweet "Oh, I gotta just be so nice to everybody and I can also lay down a lot"—why do we have to do that? And for who? Because that doesn't make me happy at the end of the day. I'd be sad as hell when I wanted to say no to something and you'd say yes and now I have to do it. Bro, who does that shit? Come on.

Well, saying yes to everything doesn't even move the needle anymore.
Yeah, and we all see the toxic cycle where they pick an artist to love, and they're the chosen one, and then slowly they just start hating and hating. Artists will reach a level that they never fathomed reaching, and they can't fucking take the shit. They get so hateful. They get so hateful towards the men rappers and the women rappers. That's an ongoing thing. People don't expect their attention to pay so much. They know not what they do.

You've also been in therapy for a bit. How's that going?
I love my therapist. She's the best. I still talk to her. In the beginning, I'd go once a month and then be like, "Bro, I'm good." No. It's like going to the gym. You got to be consistent in order to really see a change. You have to really build a relationship with somebody to hold you accountable. I feel like if I was 23 or 24, I probably wouldn't have taken therapy seriously. I needed to live and see the type of person that I was before I started taking advice. But now I'm like, "Good, this is wrong with me, I need to fix this."

I feel like, oftentimes with women, they'll be like, "Oh, I'm insecure." My issues be like, I'm competitive as fuck, because I'm the only child. Some things don't need to be taken so personal—and I take a lot of things personal. Working with my therapist has helped me to realize that everything is not about you, man. Sometimes people react a certain way because it's about them.

The first therapist I ever had actually sent me a Denzel Washington quote about that, and it blew my fucking mind.
Yes, yes, it really does open your eyes. You know what's even more fucked? When they say it in such a calm way—or, what's even worse, is when they tell you something you already know. And you're like, "Okay, but how do I apply this?" I feel like building routine also is really good for anybody struggling to, like, get out of the bed. Routine has helped me get out of the bed and hold myself accountable to whatever I need to do.

How do you feel about the state of rap music right now?
I'm not for the Rico Nasty erasure. Like, you're not about to just erase me because I didn't want to fucking drop when y'all told me to. Y'all not about to erase me and act like bitches ain't, what they say, digging in my nachos. But I love the state of rap music, and I love seeing all the women. That's what I like to see. I don't really care too much about none of the other shit. I like the women winning. Shout out to Doechii, shout out to Bktharula, shout out to Molly Santana—girls who are cool. And then shout out to irls that are up and coming. I feel like I hear a new girl on TikTok every day. I'd be like, "Damn, this bitch fire, fuck. How are these girls so cool?" These girls are so cool—they got their whole little lingos, and the different cities have different beat selections that they like.

I don't know, bro. I know there's a conversation talking about rap is dead—rap is never dead. I don't know what the fuck ni**as is talking about. Rap is going crazy. I feel like all of the hate that it gets just fuels it to start something new. People are just cooking—ain't shit dead.

Word. I love Bktharula too. The first time I heard her music I was like, "What is this?"
First time I heard her name, I was like, "What is this?" It's a great name, though.

One thing I noticed is that both the last record and this record both end with a song about your child.
Yes!

"Chicken Nugget" actually was my favorite song off the last record. I thought it was really touching, what you put forth. I'm curious to hear you talk about getting vulnerable like that when it comes to talking about parenthood in your music.
When it comes to him, he's always in the studio when I'm working on this stuff. He's always around. There's certain songs on this project that wouldn't be on the album if it wasn't for Cameron. It's little things that make me be like, "Oh, that's my [executive producer], low-key." I'll be listening to the mixes and masters in the car taking him to school, and he'll be like, "You ain't playing me this one," and that's when I'll be like, "Oh, it's 7 o'clock in the morning and you like this one?"

Being a parent is the best thing ever, honestly. It helps to keep me grounded. I feel like being a parent is also what might have killed the character and the ego—because it's like, who am I, really? Y'all geeking out to see me at Target and I'm literally holding his hand because we came to get Starbucks. I'm just a human being.

Let me say this: As a parent, I don't think it's healthy for your kid to see people glorifying you in a way that might make them feel like that's not tangible for them. I don't like being like that in front of him because I don't want to ever think his light is dim. Ni**a, you're the star. You are the fucking icon, the moment. You are the best, the coolest. I don't like when people do that when they see us out. It's like, "No, bro—this is not about me today." When y'all do that, it really does take away from the moment—and he's the moment. He's the one. That's my best friend, really. The older that he gets, the more I realize, "Wow, he's so much like me, dude" We're so cool.

You play any video games?
I play Little Nightmares and Animal Crossing. That's it. My son is the one who plays Fortnite and Roblox—he put me on to stuff like that. I play Nintendo Switch, so I like the Sonic games. [Mario and Sonic at the Olympic Games Tokyo 2020] is really good. I love Mario Kart. You're not touching me in that, it's a classic. I'm Princess Peach every time, I don't care who we playing with.

Are you going to get the Switch 2 when it comes out?
Probably not, because me and my son both have a Switch. I feel like I've given Nintendo enough of my money.

That's real—and they'll keep taking it if you don't stop.
They will. Those games got expensive. Can we talk about that, too? When the games started getting expensive as fuck?

$70 now.
Games used to be $30!

I feel like GTA 6 is going to be $80 and it's going to drive people crazy.
That's what it's looking like. I know GTA 6 is going to cost people almost $100.

You're gonna have to take out a mortgage to get GTA 6.
I'm going to have to use fucking Klarna.