OVER THE PAST YEAR OR SO, through chance or subconscious ambition or some cosmic provenance, I was able to speak with a number of people who knew and worked with Mac Miller. They all give a similar account. Earl Sweatshirt compared his friend, who died of an accidental overdose in September 2018, to a pirate ship on the go: “He was moving real fast.” Flying Lotus recalled frequent updates regarding new music when the two lived in the same neighborhood in Los Angeles: “Mac was the best because he was that dude who would always come over with a new batch every season … He made me feel lazy, and I’m working.” “He wanted people to know that there was way more to him than his indie-rap success,” Pharrell told me a couple of months ago. “He wanted people to know the layers and the depth of his potential.” Miller’s career was a delicate dance; he worked hard to get loose from expectations and step into his true potential. He managed by giving the audience a little of what he knew they wanted, followed by a little of what they might not know he wanted.
This story is from the February 3 – 16, 2020 edition of New York magazine.
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This story is from the February 3 – 16, 2020 edition of New York magazine.
Start your 7-day Magzter GOLD free trial to access thousands of curated premium stories, and 9,000+ magazines and newspapers.
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