East Oakland’s Mitchell Breaks Down Emotional Barriers With Rap

Mitchell — a polymorphic rapper and producer from East Oakland whose 2023 album Antii was listed as one of Pitchfork’s best hip-hop projects of the year — regularly co-hosts the “Late Night Crew” channel with New Bay Music on Discord. There, his supporters gather to learn more about the artist and his creative process. It’s where he invited me to speak with him for this interview.

For the better part of an hour, Mitchell (who is also known online as Produced By Mitchell) opened up about his journey in the foster care system, and how he often felt invisible and angry. He revealed his fullest self to those of us listening, referencing the time he got shot, his battle with depression, the pride of becoming a father and his unlikely fanaticism of British songwriter James Blake and American pop band Maroon 5. By 14 years old, it became clear to him that music could be a lifeline — not so much a joyful extracurricular as much as a necessary outlet. 

“What I talk about don’t make people dance; it don’t make them turn up,” he says. “It makes them cry.”

As a representative of 55th Avenue and Foothill, Mitchell carries “the weight of the world” on his shoulders and uses a nearby recording studio as his therapy. The depth of his realness can certainly be felt in his songs. On “Hurt,” the intro to Antii, Mitchell reflects on self-accountability and aspirational growth as if speaking to a higher power: “Sometimes I think about mistakes that I made / How many times I got up in my own way / How many times I had to end up lonely…/ They treat me like a reject / I guess they can’t see what I can see yet / I guess they can’t see who I’ma be yet.”

If recited acapella, his lines might resemble poetry at an open mic more than rap meant for a liquor store run, as he imparts tender truths that set him apart from his Thizzler Cypher contemporaries. A mix of jazz and soul samples undergird his unconventional production style, yet his nonchalant delivery and darkly clouded basslines remind you he’s mastered a Bay Area street sound, too. Part of Mitchell’s brilliance is that he often balances the textures of his traumatic, violent experiences with a mellow and reflective — if not reserved — tone.

“It’s not abrasive at all,” he says. “I want to ease listeners into the situation to feel like I’m just talking about a casual conversation. My casual is not necessarily everyone else’s casual, but I don’t have to yell or scream to convey that my life was crazy.”

Last October, Mitchell followed up Antii with another full-length album, Sorry 4 The Wait 3, which continued his exploration of sadness, frustration and a search for purpose. On “Champagne,” the initial track of S4TW3, Mitchell bares his soul with a confession of internal struggle: “My sister died last year, and I ain’t had time to cope with it… / This shit hard, I just make it look easy / I got a family and they know that they need me / So much stress come with this shit, I feel like giving up.”

In the video for “Champagne,” Mitchell wanders around a serene outdoor garden while melodic bells and a calmly-paced instrumental provide a cushioned listening experience. The lyrical content doesn’t exactly match the chill vibe, but it’s that duality and range that Mitchell strives for as an artist — particularly one who might otherwise be pigeonholed as a one-gear rapper.

Mitchell produces for cult-favorite rappers like 1100 Himself, whose collaborations often draw from Detroit and Flint’s centrifuge of “basement sound.” But Mitchell also harkens back to the timeless elements of hip-hop’s past, too. On “Tesla,” he summons the ominous synths of ’90s-era Vallejo mobb music while calling out “suckas.” That’s followed by a smooth, jazzy banger with an understated East Coast feel on “Still Rich.” And then there’s the nostalgic medicine of “Backpack,” which uses a Mario Kart-sounding keyboard riff as a childhood call back.

“My whole discography is an experience because you get to see the different sides of me,” he says. “I still got a ghetto element to it but I don’t want my music to only be seen like that. I want to be known as an artist. The creative freedom they give Childish Gambino, I want to have.”

Hearing Mitchell speak — whether live on Discord or on one of his albums — opens a window into the slow-evolving complexity of a man who has traveled miles to reach his current position. Despite the haze of his past, he manages to exude clarity while rolling a blunt and ruminating on life’s unforgiving twists and turns. As Pitchfork’s national rap columnist Alphone Pierre writes, “You’ll want to cough up some gas money so he can keep on rambling.”