DEEP THOUGHT

Photographs by Melodie McDaniel

Minutes after strolling into Chalice Recording Studio off Melrose Ave. in Hollywood, Pharrell Williams is already making music. “I’m just a poser,” he croons with trademark angst, tinkering on the keyboard. “I know that they can seeeee.” It’s not clear if this is just another nonsensical, N*E*R*D–like musing or if it’s a hint of insecurity from pop music’s most famous producer, but either way, it’s an interesting segue into Complex’s private sneak preview of Pharrell’s solo debut, In My Mind. The album is half hip–hop and half R&B, fitting for a producer who’s dominated both genres for the last seven summers.

After playing each of the 13 tracks, Pharrell offers a hopeful thumbs–up sign, politely asking our opinion and whether or not at least one of these songs might work better if performed by another artist. Referring to the possible recipient of one potential giveaway, Pharrell quips: “He’ll use it as a single, I’ll get another Grammy.” (JT, hollatchyaboy!) This process is all part of the superproducer’s transition from the periphery to center stage—from hitmaker for the stars to hitmaker for himself. The version of In My Mind we hear is still a rough cut, but the music sounds like vintage Pharrell—“Drop It Like It’s Hot”?style raps, “Frontin’”–esque falsettos and numerous zany quotables (“She got ass like a loaf of bread, you want a slice”). In short, as P himself would put it: The shit is drugs.

However, like Dipset, P is more than music. Pharrell has flipped chart success into tastemaker status into full–fledged moguldom. In addition to promoting his album, he’s running his Ice Cream skate team (led by “Compton Ass” Terry Kennedy and Pharrell’s younger brother, Kato), preparing the launch of Ice Cream skate shoes and overseeing the new season of his Billionaire Boys Club clothing line. In late fall, he’s opening a new Tokyo clothing shop, based on the layout of a grocery store, with Bathing Ape’s Nigo. He’s also partnering with a former Disney exec to open 10 Fatburger restaurants in Virginia.

Next year, he’ll executive produce the upcoming Voltron movie and probably pick up Grammys for songs he hasn’t even made yet. And he’ll achieve all of this with effortless style, for Pharrell is nothing if not an arbiter of cool (trucker hats, anyone?). But part of staying cool is toeing the line between exclusivity and exposure, which Pharrell has balanced all these years by darting in and out of the public eye, a character actor in a big–budget movie. Now, with his solo album, the spotlight he’s coyly chased since he was a hungry unknown from Virginia Beach is squarely on him. Pharrell is no longer behind the product; the product is him. Wanna make a purchase?