9-to-9 With Datwon Thomas

Originally published for Destroy to Rebuild 3/2013. 

Datwon Thomas gets animated when talking about an artist he thinks is dope. His face lights up and a boyish grin appears as he highlights the reasons why he feels someone deserves your ear. He has a way of describing his experiences with music in a way that makes his love for the artistry palpable. In speaking of Nas and his music’s influence on his life he says, “When I heard him do ‘Live At The BBQ’ it was wild to hear how dope his verse was. Like the way he put those rhymes and lines together? Like..ugh…it was crazy man.” Unable to find the words to describe it, he just naturally progresses into reciting the opening bars to Nas’ verse with a smile that widens with each bar. Head bopping, hand weaving and sitting up in his chair he is back in New Mexico hearing the song for the first time again. Immediately, you understand why he was made for this.

Thomas is both an artist and curator in the house that hip-hop built. There is a meticulous balance required in playing this dual role that the Vibe executive editor is gifted with; it is something born not made. His eyes still shine with the love for the essence of hip-hop—the purity of a rap battle on a cold New York street corner and DJs carrying crates of records into a humid gymnasium—yet he is able to recognize the need for growth, molding this awareness into progression for the culture. “I love getting up, making sure my kids are straight and listening to hip-hop, talking about it and then doing that again the next day. That’s like, the shit to me.”

The 37-year old father of three is a pioneer of hip-hop journalism. Starting out as an intern for Vibe in May 1996, he moved on to become editor-in-chief at XXL, founder and EIC of KING, and COO of Russell Simmons’ Global Grind. He returned to Vibe in 2010 citing the opportunity to reunite the band, so to speak. “A lot of people I came into the game with, we felt like we all met at Vibe…For us to be able to have the chance to run it the way we used to talk about? You can’t pass that opportunity up.” His constant movement, particularly the somewhat recurrent nature of it, leaves Thomas to marvel at his career. “I don’t know why, but my career works in like, a cycle. Started at XXL super low on the totem pole, left, but came back as editor-in-chief. Started at Vibe super low—I was damn near below intern status. Come back and I’m executive editor. These two in themselves are enough to tell me that there are some things that are just destined for you.”

Born in Brooklyn, Thomas lived in Japan and New Mexico for a few years as a preteen before returning to New York City in high school. As a teen, his passion was producing music. His uncle’s best friend would pay for studio sessions for him and a couple of MCs he was managing. Thomas would go every day after school to work on his beats. His enthusiasm continued through his college days at Baruch, where he used a nearby record store to his advantage.

“It used to be on 23^rd between Lex and Park. I think the spot was called Sam’s…I would go in there during breaks between classes. I made myself an intern there just by being in there—I never left [chuckles]. I would never have any money, so sometimes I would grab a broom or sometimes I would help people find records,” He pauses, a small smile spreading across his face as he recalls, “There was this dude Pat, an older black dude in there. I think he was Jamaican or something. He’d be like, ‘This dude is always in here not buying nothing! Take a record or something man. Get outta here! But before you leave, move those boxes!’” He laughs heartily and ruminates in the memory for a beat before continuing, “That helped me find different sounds and learn about different music. People would come in and put me on to stuff too, so that was like a learning experience.”

It would seem that Thomas’ path was paved to begin a career in music, but fate stepped in and led him on the road to journalism. During this time, he taught a continuing education creative writing class at the New York Public Library where he would often share articles from the many magazines he read. One day, one of his students gave him an epiphany. “My man Mr. Cook—he was in his 50s or 60s—would say ‘If I could read and write like you, I’d be in every one of these things. I would be in all of them. YOU should be in all of them.”

With a resume that includes nearly every prominent hip-hop culture magazine, it would seem that Thomas took Mr. Cook’s advice literally. Of all of these publications, XXL has had the biggest impact on him personally and professionally. “As much as I wanna say KING on my career cause everyone kind of aligns me with that, I never would have gotten KING if I didn’t do XXL the way I did cause I made such an impression on the publishers.” For the time he was EIC at XXL, it probably did give him the most power as arbiter of hip-hop culture. “I was 22 going on 23 flying all over the world with fucking rappers and being able to write about it. There’s no twitter, there’s no Facebook, there’s none of that. I’m everyone’s eyes and ears and whatever I put in the magazine that month, that’s what everybody gets…That’s a huge responsibility to be the eyes and ears of a culture.”

XXL was also influential personally in the lessons he learned from the experience. “Personally, at XXL I learned it was a business, I learned it was very serious, and I learned you could take it to the next level if you really concentrate and work hard. And that next level is KING.” At this, his voice lowers a couple of octaves and he puts on the screw face before growling, “And that’s when I killed mothafuckas! [Laughter]”

During the first four years of Thomas’ tenure at KING, its circulation more than doubled, making it among the fastest-growing magazines in America. “It wasn’t like we invented putting amazingly beautiful, scantily clad black women on a cover. I didn’t invent that. But what I did have a hand in creating is the lifestyle around it.” KING aimed to be like your homeboy who worked on Wall Street—he could still kick it on the block and talk to you about girls and cars, but he also gave you tips on the stock market and how to buy a well-tailored suit. “I wanted to make sure that these things [that we were giving people in KING] weren’t comparable in any other mag for black men. And it wasn’t.”

Reinvention and timelessness don’t necessarily seem to go hand in hand, but it is this formula that has created such a name for Thomas in the industry. He looks at the construction of a magazine issue as something that should bring new and fresh ideas, yet stick with you enough to want to keep it on the table in your living room to flip through every now and then because it was just that good. “The only way you can stay in the game is if you have some kind of vision to forecast and kinda call out ‘this is gonna happen’ or ‘this can happen’ or ‘this is what should happen’ rather than talk about what’s hot now. What’s hot now is cool because it defines the time and documents the now, but what makes it relevant later?” Part of the way that Thomas trademarks this line of thinking is through branding. Sought after issues such as XXL’s “Freshmen” issues or Vibe’s “Hip-Hop Hollywood” theme stem from him.

Despite his clear knack for innovation within journalism, it is immediately obvious that his true passion is still the music. “I feel like my opinion matters because of the amount of time I put in listening to the music, caring about it, knowing the people’s back stories behind stuff, being privy to certain information…all of that.” In order to let the full breadth of these opinions truly live, he created Royale, an online magazine that is like his own personal playground. “Jermaine [EIC of Vibe] has his own vision of how the voice should be for urban culture through this prism [Vibe magazine]. I have my own vision of what the voice should be through the prism of each thing I listen to. It’s a huge difference…Royale allows me to do it where no one can say ‘That’s enough words’ or ‘That’s enough pictures’ or ‘I don’t like that’ Good! Get your ass off my site then! [laughs]”

Thomas has clearly arrived at the stage where self-doubt is a passing whimsy. This level of assuredness in his stance only comes with a certain level of comfort within oneself. “I’m still a young kid with a bookbag. That’s the way I see myself in my head…that’s just who I am. I think there comes a point when you realize who you are.” Still, he balances the swagger with an awareness of how fleeting it can be. “Being in the game, for me, is a privilege. I think after awhile. You feel like you’ve earned your spot and you’re supposed to be sitting at the table every time, but if you’re not putting work in, somebody’s gonna take your seat.”

With his gift of constant evolution and elevation of his game, it is clear that Thomas doesn’t have to worry about his place at the table. Besides, he’s looking way beyond seats towards something more concrete. “I just want people to say ‘He’s a cool mothafucka’,” he says with all seriousness. “I want to know my brick is in the building for this hip-hop shit.”