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Haunted soul? Mad genius? Suicidal artist? When it comes to Interscope artist Charles Hamilton, it all depends on what day it is, and what song is on.

There’s something about the Fredrick Douglas Academy in Harlem that seems just a little strange. On the surface, there’s nothing unusual about the 106 & Park-aged mob that move up and down the hallways. The energy and constant buzz generated by the human hive fills the air, creating a pulse that brings the building to life, as the uniformed faces blur in a rush quite consistent with beating the bell. The unusual part is the last bell probably rang about two hours ago, but at five in the evening, the place looks like it’s closer to lunchtime. From the smiles and laughs carried by the crowd, one would think that these kids are either happy to be in the world’s largest detention class, or that some of them would rather be in school than at home.

By: MC


For former student turned Hip-Hop phenom Charles Hamilton, that statement, like almost everything else about him, has a deeper meaning for him. “This was home; that couch right there, that was bed,” he says, speaking on one of the few pieces of furniture in the room — a room that is attached to the school’s studio where he still records. Rocking a pale-yellow Sonic The Hedgehog T-shirt over a pink button up, he stands out like a sore thumb amongst the uniformed students — much like does amongst his peers in Hip-Hop — as he steps into the hallway. “I used to leave FDA not knowing if I was gonna come back here because they were gonna lock the door, but knowing I was gonna come back here because this was home.” For most people who share his former predicament, revisiting the memories of the high school you were once forced to live in might be too painful. But creating comfort and art from his pain is what makes Charles Hamilton, Charles Hamilton.

Let’s start with the basics. Charles was born in Ohio and left for NY when he was five years old. Not returning often, he hoped to leave certain demons in the past. “I’m waiting for Barbara Walters to talk about all that shit,” he says changing the subject.

After being kicked out of multiple prestigious schools — one, for cutting class to play piano; another for telling a teacher “You’re the reason niggas commit Columbines,” — he was accepted to FDR. And before being discovered at the Training Camp showcase in NYC, issues with his mom caused him to be homeless, while life issues led him to addiction to multiple drugs.

“The substance people I used to hang out with called themselves “The Hellboys.” Even though they knew I wasn’t supposed to be around them, for me, it was like, ‘Finally I don’t have to hide how hurt I am because these people live off of their pain.’ They used to let me be in the room with the speakers. I had this chick I used to get high with — never knew her name, never knew nothing about her. We would just be high together and listen to music. I had a lot of transient people coming in and out, so I¹ve seen everything from murder to overdose, to marriage to shit that’s paranormal.”

After the smoke cleared on the bidding war, the musical prodigy, who also plays the guitar, went from being homeless and sleeping on couches in his school to being signed to Interscope Records directly by Jimmy Iovine. This is, of course, after numerous co-signs from the likes of Kanye West and Pharrell. His deal, secured for over a million dollars, also scores Hamilton a typical rags to riches, feel-good story, complete with a happy ending.

However, its not the facts, but his beliefs that tend to shake things up. He believes that God is a woman; he believes that wearing the color pink makes him feel closer to her. He believes the term hipster is an insult. “[Get the] Fuck out of my face with that hipster shit,” he says at the thought of being considered one. “Fuck the hipster movement; fuck anyone who is proud to call themselves a hipster. Whatever, I’m not making fad music.”

He believes that although the world knows him as Charles Hamilton, in his mind, he is in fact, Sega video game character Sonic The Hedgehog. And he believes that due to his former addiction to heroin, he should not be alive.

In the end, the link between the fact and his beliefs rests in his music. Since being discovered, Charles Hamilton has gone on a rap rampage, releasing eight mixtapes on eight different Hip-Hop websites. Death Of The Mixtape Rapper, And Then They Played Dilla, Staff Development, It’s Charles Hamilton, The L Word, Sonic The Hamilton, Intervention, and The Pink Lava Lamp — each one designed to be more than just music but a statement designed to take you inside his mind. “With Death Of The Mixtape Rapper… metaphor rappers aren’t necessarily considered relevant. So in the eyes of the big people, you’re a common citizen as a mixtape rapper,” he explains. “And my Death is [me saying], ‘Fuck it. I’m not gonna be a regular person,’” he says with a shrug. “Every song is a theme, every project is an episode and my entire body of music is the reality show called ‘Charles Hamilton.’”
What most don’t know is how close the show came to being canceled by Charles during the making of the eighth and final mixtape in the Hamiltonization Process.

“The Pink Lava Lamp is about two or three years old — the darkest period of my entire life. There’s songs on there where I was dead-ass shooting up in the booth,” he says fidgeting with his phone. “One of people’s favorite songs on there called ‘Shining,’ is actually a suicide letter. Like I said, I was born with more songs than trades/wrote a song a day/no childhood like Jon Benet. I was gonna leave it up on the computer. Niggas was gonna walk in, hear the song and then the news.” But when his manager came in early and went crazy over the track, Charles had a change of heart. “[I was] Like, ‘I’m out. Fuck this life shit.’ But people loved ‘Shining,’” he says with a note of surprise. “So I said, ‘Fuck it, why not stick around?’ That’s how real this album is for me.”

The innovative release of the series, which was titled the “Hamiltonization Process,” combined with his drug history and prowess on the guitar, has heads on the net going nuts and instigating a competition between him and Lil Wayne, which he finds amusing at best.

“If I gave a fuck about money and the existential natures of life, I would be Lil Wayne,” he says, in the tone of a man bored with the question. “I don’t give a fuck about [the] things he glorifies and I’ve overcome the things he claims to have been stuck in. He’s doing what he’s doing; I’m doing what I’m doing. All I have to0say is, I don’t need a tattoo over my eye to see who I am and what I am. The end.”

It’s his extra blunt attitude that earned him his first rap beef with ringtone king Soulja Boy. Although the “misunderstanding” was quickly squashed after a few YouTube videos from both sides, he admits that keeping a cool head is a learning process. “Let this interview happen last year and I would have been the most hated rapper in the industry because I’d say who I’m not fucking with,” he admits laughing.

A lesson that’s come not a moment too soon, his success along with his dress code has all but painted him an easy mark, as flocks of rappers have come out the blue to take shots at him in interviews and songs. Though responding isn’t the first thing on his mind, it’s definitely not the last.

“This shit is too real for to be worried about bitch ass niggas who wanna diss, [with] little subliminals here and there,” he says shaking his head. “I take it in stride because at the end of the day, if I see any of them, it¹s gonna be, ‘Oh, I love your music,’” he smirks. “That’s [what] gets me to sleep at night.”

After all, how can you take sleep from an artist who feels he shouldn’t be awake in the first place?
“The Pink Lava Lamp should not have been finished. I should have died,” he says with a half laugh. “Motherfuckers don’t get that shit, I’m still alive. Of all the shit that I’ve done, I’m still alive and there’s nothing that could change that. You mean to tell me, I shouldn’t be happy?”

-Charles Hamilton