This begs an obvious question: Why not make more music with Big Boi, the collaborator with whom André made his best, most consistent and most influential work so far? (At the very least, it would finally make fans and journalists stop asking him about it.) The answer: At the age of 42, André says rapping only inspires him in fleeting moments now. “It’s really just an excitement thing, and where I am in life. I kind of like not being a part of [rap], now that I’ve done it. As I get older, I start to see myself move more back from it—the hustle and bustle of putting out an album, the pressure of being in the studio trying to come up with something. Now it’s more like a hobby for me, so I don’t think about it in that way. Even with Outkast — if we never do another album, I’m totally fine with that. When I was 25, I said I don’t want to be a 30-year-old rapper. I’m 42 now, and I feel more and more that way. Do I really want to be 50 years old up there doing that? When I watch other rappers that are my age I commend them, but I just wonder where the inspiration is coming from. At this stage I’m really more focused on what I am going to be doing 10 years from now. And I hope to God it won’t be rapping.”

Unlike André, Big Boi has stayed busy musically, releasing four solo albums in the past seven years, touring heavily, and launching a new project, Big Grams, with indie electro-rock duo Phantogram. In 2014, Outkast reunited for a festival tour that grossed $60 million, but afterward André told the Fader he “felt like a sellout.” Since then, one can assume that other large paychecks have been turned down while André focuses on projects like Tretorn. Does that ever cause any tension between Big Boi and him? “We have such an understanding that it’s never friction,” André replies. “There’s never pressure of, ‘Hey, man, let’s get back in.’ Of course there’s always money on the table, but it’s never seen that way. We’ve been blessed to not have to scratch for that money. Maybe it’ll be an issue in the future, but maybe not.”

“Rapping is like being a boxer,” André continues. “No matter how great you are or were at a certain time, the older you get, the slower you get—I don’t care who you are. And I can feel that coming on. There’s always a new wave of artists, and sometimes I’m just like, ‘I’m good. I’ll let the young guys do it.’ And whenever they reach out and say, ‘Hey, let’s try something,’ I’m with helping them. I’m doing it more for them than for my own self. I don’t get much happiness from doing music like that—I get happiness from pleasing who I’m working with, and helping them, and seeing them be excited.”



André still spends a lot of time working on music on his own—but it isn’t rap. In between his Tretorn work, he’s taking music theory classes, and after picking-up guitar to play Hendrix on-screen, he’s learning to play a couple new instruments, though he declines to reveal which. Instruments interest him, he says, because “you have the same kind of emotion and input, but less from the verbal side of things.”

When asked if he’ll be applying these burgeoning skills to any new projects, he says, “I have no idea—I’m going with the flow. [I’m] just trying to find something that I can do still.” He frequently noodles around on the piano, “making up shit on the spot, almost like how I rap or freestyle. It’s just chords—I don’t know what’s happening. I go back and listen to these freestyles and want to play them over again, so now I’m trying to get someone to help me transcribe so I can learn my own stuff.”

Still smiling serenely, André is obviously in a philosophical mood. The conversation starts to drift, from monogamy and love, to the Cloisters museum in Upper Manhattan, to Jay-Z’s Songwriter Hall of Fame induction (“He’s the king,” André says), before a publicist interrupts: The clothes are ready, and it’s finally time to shoot. After changing into that custom mudcloth jumpsuit, a fez, and a pair of sharp navy-blue suede Nylites, André sticks his hip boldly to the side and flashes his brightest smile yet—this time for the camera. He’s a natural. Just 45 minutes and a couple more looks later, it’s a wrap.

“I still love music, but I’m trying to find that deeper thing,” André says, stepping off set to change back into his street clothes. “The older I get, it’s really more about comfort, personal happiness, and understanding. Maybe one day I’ll be somewhere talking about it in a class or something. I don’t know the rest of my way.”