METHOD MAN INTERVIEW

A MADNESS TO HIS METHOD MAN

Interview by Chris Simunek, Danny Danko and Woodstock Greenstein

Method Man isn’t feeling so hot today. The 35-year-old Grammy-winning rapper and actor has a nasty cold and periodically, between hits of Sour Diesel, deposits a long, stringy loogie into a nearby garbage can. In town to support his new album, 4:21... The Day After (Def Jam), and performing later tonight with the Wu-Tang Clan at a sold-out show at Roseland, Meth is in good spirits, despite his malady.

For the occasion, we bring out a silver platter piled high with herb, which Meth marvels at, shoving the buds into his mouth and mugging for our cameras. He’s wearing a shirt he had made especially for the occasion, with “HIGH TIMES” graffitied across his chest. After the Diddy-influenced misfire Tical O: The Prequel (Def Jam, 2004), 4:21 is a return to the grittier style his fans expect. A consummate professional, Meth arrived to the interview with a blunt stuck behind his ear, ready to talk.

What’s the concept of 4:21… The Day After?
They say that 4/20 [April 20] is the national weed-smoking day. I just needed something to symbolize a moment of clarity for myself and, you know, I smoke a lot of weed, so what better than 4/21? Plus, you know, with 4/20, you add up the numbers, it only equals six; with 4/21 you get that seven, which is perfect for me. And also it took me that long—4/20 had already passed by the time I found my pipe.

Do record companies ever ask you to tone down your weed profile?
Not really, because I came in with it. Only in Hollywood, sometimes, ’cuz they don’t want to think that they’re investing their money in a pothead, which they are.

The new album’s hot.
Thank you.

You put the weed right up in front; it’s the first thing you hear about.
That’s the first thing people see when they see me, anyway. Everybody always asks me, “Where the weed at, Meth?” They doin’ this. [mimes a toke] “Where the weed at, Meth?” And I’m more or less like, “Damn, you gonna get me in trouble.” But I don’t mind being an advocate for weed. It’s not as bad as tobacco, alcohol or firearms, for that matter. There’s no reason it shouldn’t be legalized. You can make all kinds of stuff out of hemp. I think the cure for cancer’s probably in cannabis—who knows?

What’s your favorite kind of herb?
My favorite kind of herb? Northern Lights. I like that shit that have me comatose—fall-asleep-with-the-blunt-in-my-hand-type shit.

Where do you think the best herb comes from?
Well, there’s two spots, to me.
Amsterdam is one of them, of course. And Humboldt County. [Meth is taken aback by the joint we hand him, wrapped in clear Aleda papers made from natural cellulose.] This little clear-paper shit, this is a’ight, son. I need these papers.

We’ll give you as many as you want. Do you prefer smoking blunts?
I prefer smoking blunts. That’s how I started out, smoking blunts.

What is it you like about them?
I don’t know. I’m used to it. Why do black people smoke Newports and white people smoke Marlboros? We’re used to it.

When was the first time you smoked weed?
Oh man... 11. Eleven years old. I didn’t know what I was doing. I didn’t even get high. I just held the smoke in my mouth and blew it out. The first time I officially got high? Thirteen. That was an event. I was in Staten Island, at a friend of mine’s house, and his name was Blunt, of all people. And the way he taught me how to get high—and I’ve been doing this to people who don’t know how to get high ever since—he said he would give me a shotgun and told me to just breathe in slow, and that’s what I did. I ain’t looked back since, straight up.