reggie Is Finally Done Running

Maintaining a low profile without losing your audience is a rare trick for a musician. It requires a certain panache and careful execution. For many artists, say Frank Ocean, Salem, or pre-2021 Playboi Carti, sporadic Instagram stories and rare public appearances have become tools for crafting a “mysterious,” almost untouchable persona. But for Houston-based multihyphenate reggie, that’s nowhere near the reason he went quiet. Since dropping his first solo song in 2020, the artist has uploaded 11 videos to YouTube, nine solo songs to streaming platforms, and hasn’t posted on Instagram or X since 2022. Despite the radio silence, his audience never left, anxiously awaiting the next chapter of his Southern-dripping soulful sonic storytelling.

“It wasn’t me trying to be mysterious or purposely hide from the spotlight,” reggie says about his years-long hiatus, which he initiated promptly after hitting the peak of his career. But, by any means, his hop off the grid was not a move that was purposely pencilled into his timeline or a decision he lost sleep over. “It’s how I talk too. I don’t really like to talk unless what I’m saying is super needed in that specific moment. I don’t just yap to yap.”

That intentionality runs through everything — his silences, his output, and ultimately UNDRA, his debut album arriving nearly five years after his first solo release and long overdue by any conventional measure.

A contagious nonchalance — not at all to be confused with apathy — also emanates from reggie, persistent even as he utters some of the most profound pieces of wisdom. “Life happens, and you just have to respond, act accordingly, and keep your head up,” he continues, in conversation with me over the course of his first photoshoot in what feels like ages (it’s been about four years). During his time away from the limelight, reggie welcomed his first child, with fatherhood heavily influencing his artistic evolution and vision. “Every single thing that I write is with her in mind.”

The Zero Fatigue-affiliated producer-rapper-singer dropped “Southside Fade” mid-pandemic in August of 2020, handling everything from the writing to the final mixing on his own and beginning to shape his raw, genre-bridging sound. An early showcase of reggie’s soul-flecked rap and R&B, the cut went big — over 7 million streams on Spotify and 1 million music video views — even landing a coveted “Chopnotslop” remix. He continued to flesh out his lane with his second single, finding prowess in his striking falsetto on “I Don’t Wanna Feel No More” in December, then, his biggest track to date, “Ain’t Gon Stop Me,” featuring Monte Booker and Kenny Beats, complemented by a fan-favorite A COLORS SHOW performance. Later that year came “Avalanche” with his early supporter Smino and solo offering “Traffic.”

This is when reggie feels would’ve been the textbook “perfect” time to drop his first project: when all of his shit was doing numbers. “If I were doing the ‘right’ thing, I would have dropped my debut album a long, long time ago,” he answered when asked why now? Instead, life dragged him in other directions, leading him to more collaborative work that continued to shape his own solo artistry with Smino on his Luv 4 Rent and Maybe in Nirvana, as well as contributing to both Monte Booker and Kal Banx’s recent debut projects, and Maxo Kream’s WEIGHT OF THE WORLD. Reggie’s fit into the modern neo-soul, hip-hop landscape is quite distinct yet borderline impossible to describe; he’s a whole lot softer than Maxo – significantly softer than Smino – yet harder than Booker, combined with Noname’s self-awareness, JID‘s sharp pen, and Erykah Badu’s affinity for jazz samples.

Although both his solo and collaborative work continued to rack up listens, reggie himself felt unfulfilled. “A lot of the albums that I made before UNDRA were about running away. Even as a person, I was running away from myself.” Even the project’s title, pronounced like “Andre,” is him embracing something he used to flee; his middle name, passed down to him and his brother from his dad. Until now, it was something reggie hesitated to share, wary of being measured against his elders. “Now, I’m like, ‘Fuck it, it’s who I am.’”

As we shoot his second look on an empty basketball court in the Lower East Side, reggie looks over at me. “I really am super glad that I waited to drop my debut,” he says earnestly, his eyes evidently now turned inward on himself, rather than outward on the external. “When I think about the album I have right now versus the albums I had made and lined up to come before, this one speaks volumes.”

Hypebeast: Why was now the time to drop UNDRA?

reggie: I’m going to be real – there’s probably some type of perfect answer my PR can cook up for this, but on some real shit, it’s just life. Technically, I feel like the “perfect” time for me to drop would have been back in 2020 when I was getting 10,000 likes per post and millions of streams. But life happens, and you just have to respond, act accordingly, and keep your head up. Honestly, waiting to drop wasn’t, like, a big decision necessarily, or stemming from me trying to be mysterious or purposely hide from the spotlight; it was just life dragging me over here and then over the other way. There’s really no correct answer for that question, because, for real, I think if I were doing the “right” thing, I would have dropped my debut album a long, long time ago.

With that being said, are you happy you waited until now to release it?

I’m super glad that I waited. When I think about the album I have right now versus the albums I had made and lined up to come before, this one speaks volumes. I’ve since had my daughter and stepped into the role of fatherhood, so these days, it’s a whole different creative approach.

Looking back on when you dropped your first solo track — which was back in 2020 — how have things changed since then?

Yeah, I dropped my first solo track during COVID. It was a whole different time. The world had slowed down, and I feel like we’re experiencing something sorta similar right now; a lot is going on right now, and we’re all paying attention to it. The timing just finally felt right for me to release this, because the core of UNDRA really aligns with the times and certain feelings everyone can relate to right now. That’s the way I talk too, like, I don’t really like to talk unless what I’m saying is super needed in that specific moment. I don’t just yap to yap.

Could you say more about how that intentionality transfers into your music?

We have a responsibility not just as people, but especially as artists. An album has a lot of influence on its listeners, and now that I have a daughter, she plays a big part in how I approach my music and what I say in my lyrics. There’s a lot of music that I’ve made over the course of my career that will never end up seeing the light of day, just because I wouldn’t want my daughter listening to it. 

Tell me more about fatherhood and how that journey has impacted your artistry.

Now that I’m a father, there isn’t one step I take that isn’t calculated carefully, because one wrong move and it could lead me away from my daughter. You know what I’m saying? You make one mistake, and you can go to jail or end up dead, all these different things. I approach my music the same way, for real, where every single thing that I write is with her in mind, or with respect to her.

Focusing on the creative process for UNDRA, walk me through how the initial idea for the album began to evolve into the project’s final form.

A lot of the albums that I made before UNDRA were about running away. Even as a person, I was running away from myself. But over time, I’ve slowly realized what I really want to present to people, and that’s made my creative process a lot easier. I just want to be me, and show people all of the real, different sides of me they haven’t been able to see. Once I gained this confidence and started wanting to show people an authentic version of myself, I was able to lock in on the tape.

Everything before UNDRA was made by a version of me that was actively running away from myself, whereas this project is me approaching every single side of myself. When you hear the tape, I want you to be like, “Oh damn, I can’t believe that the dude from track one is the same dude on track three.” I stopped running away, and it was that mindset that allowed me to dial in the album, and it’s the reason it takes the final form it does. Even the name of the project, UNDRA, is a name I’ve been running from for so long. 

Could you tell me more about the name of the album and why that’s significant? 

The name of the album UNDRA – which is pronounced like “Andre” – is my middle name. It’s also my brother’s, so growing up, people would compare us all the time, so I’d never share my middle name, really. But now, I’m like, “Fuck it, it’s who I am.” My family didn’t even understand how to properly spell it, which is ironic as hell, but it’s beautiful. 

Going back to your creative evolution, what about your artistry has remained consistent throughout your trajectory as a musician?

What’s stayed the same through all these years is my transparency, and with that, there are so many different layers. I spoke about responsibility before, and I feel like transparency is another responsibility of ours. If you’re not transparent, you look like an asshole, phony as hell. I channeled that honesty directly into the music that’s coming out on this album and the music that will come after this album. It’s all rooted in transparency, and I’ve just continued to build on that concept more and more. 

On the other hand, what has been the biggest point of evolution in your artistry?

Now, I’m no longer afraid to let people know what I’m going through, because I know so many people are going through the same thing. We want to believe we’re all unique, but like, we’re all just human, man. It’s one human race. Somebody got the same flaws as you, and somebody got the same great things about themselves as you. There are people out there going through the same shit that you are, so you’re doing yourself a disservice in thinking you’re the only one going through it. I’ve never done therapy, and I probably should [laughs], so in a lot of ways, music is my therapy. 

How did you get comfortable with being so vulnerable in your music? 

First off, I just owed it to myself, for real. But at the same time, I am still growing, and I want to put my journey out there for other people. I was so lucky to be surrounded by so many people who poured so much good into me that I didn’t really believe in myself, and I feel like, at a certain point, you owe it to yourself to do it for yourself. You can have external inspirations — your partner, your family, your kids — but on some real shit, you ultimately have to do it for yourself. You can’t really make long-term changes unless you want it for yourself.

Would you say who you are as an artist is the same person you are as an individual? Or are they different personas? 

Yeah, they are the same persona. 100%.

UNDRA exists in a very curated, cinematic visual world. Could you say more about the creative concept behind the album’s visual component?

The concept behind the overall album is that it’s an audition. An audition to be myself. Let’s say someone walked into the room right now while we’re doing this interview and threw a pen at me. I might go off on them and get mad, and in that case, I’d probably say something along the lines of “I’m sorry, that got me so out of character.” That then poses the question of: “If you’re a character, is this whole thing a script?” That’s the concept I wanted to play off of on this album, us as people having these “characters” we oblige ourselves to. 

“congrats” features some of my favorite visuals from the album. What was on the moodboard for that one?

For “congrats,” we were in downtown Los Angeles, and we literally saw a bride running down the street. All of the groomsmen were running after her. It looked like a photoshoot, but we had no idea what was going on. I took a picture of it, and was like, “Damn, that shit’s so crazy.” At first, we thought nothing of it, really, and then I started talking out loud about old situations that I had been in, and stuff I thought I was “married to” — I use that term a lot. I’m always like, “I’m not married to this. I’m not married to that,” so I leaned into those things I thought I was married to that didn’t end up panning out. Seeing the bride running down the busy LA street was one of those moments, sort of like a dream, that’s so simple yet so inspiring that you know you have to create something out of it. 

Do you believe in the significance of dreams? 

I really listen to my dreams. I take them very seriously. 

In the past year alone, we got a debut from Monte Booker, a big tour from Smino, and now your debut album. What, to you, does that say about the current hip-hop scene?

There’s a lot of raw-ass people dropping. I also feel like there’s a lot of raw people coming up right now, too, and I think it’s beautiful. I think it’s the times, and what people need right now. For the last four or five years, it’s been party shit that’s been running the scene, and it’s cool, but it’s not always needed. Even me, Monte, and Smino’s type of music isn’t always needed, but it’s just what life brings people to, especially right now, when life is bringing people to their knees, no bullshit.

Where else did you find yourself drawing inspiration from for UNDRA? 

Over everything, I have to give the most credit to leaving my city. Your city is a couch — comfortable, and no matter how comfortable you are, you gotta get up. If you get up, naturally, there are more things you can do. Moving to LA, it kind of fucked my head up, but it got me out of my hometown. After I moved out West, I found out I was having my daughter, and then moved to the Bronx for two years — strictly for my daughter — before moving back home to Houston. Moving around and experiencing all these different things and sounds made my experience greater and richer, just as a byproduct of witnessing everything. That’s not to say there aren’t great people in Houston; we have superstars, but most people do have to leave, and then they come back as Travis Scott or Beyoncé. It’s just kind of hard to build out here because there is no industry infrastructure around the couch that you are sitting on.

What are some of the key themes of UNDRA? 

The audition would be the main motif. The entire thing is a self-tape in its own right. Definitely rain. I bring up rain so many different times. On “Headstone,” I mention rain a lot. I feel like I’ve often found myself in situations where I’m in my full suit, ready to go, and all the shit just starts coming down on me. But I’ve learned to appreciate the rain, both physically and metaphorically. The sun is always going to come out way brighter after it’s done, which is beautiful. Dreams are another big theme. There’s grief on there; there’s all types of depression on there; there’s realization on there. When you first heard the album, it was in a different format, and there was a song missing. Now, there’s a new song on there, and I changed a lot of the formatting. 

Having delayed the project a few times, would you consider yourself a perfectionist? 

I’m not. If I were a perfectionist, I wouldn’t have dropped anything at all. Every single one of my songs has a note that’s just a little bit off, or a mix could have been a little bit better. Even the “Beautiful Things” version that you heard on the demo is a raw voice memo. I just added a new song where you can really tell, “Oh, this is straight off the phone,” because on “Beautiful Things,” I added the choir and real instrumentation on top of the voice memo, so it’s me trying to be polished and perfect. I tried to go for perfectionism in the middle, but I came back to myself at the end of the album. 

What do you want this album to leave people with?

A hug. That’s it. I said this before, but it’s just how I’m feeling. You are not alone. We were all placed here at the same time for a reason. Do you know how rare it is for me and you to be alive at the same time? I’m just trying to put my arm around people.

I’m stoked for people to have this album in their hands, but honestly, I wish I could gatekeep it a little longer. 

No, don’t gatekeep it, don’t gatekeep it no more. That’s the real message.