Imagine losing both your parents within just four short months – a soul-shattering blow that most of us can barely fathom. That's the profound reality Pusha T and Malice confronted, channeling their heartache into their triumphant reunion album, Let God Sort Em Out. But here's where it gets controversial: Did their bold decision to ditch their label really prove they didn't need the industry's gatekeepers, or was it just a lucky break? Stick around to explore how grief never truly fades, and why this album might just redefine hip-hop reunions.
In a heartbreaking span of only four months, Pusha T and Malice, the dynamic duo behind Clipse, endured the unimaginable loss of both their parents. Their mother, Mildred Thornton, passed away in November 2021, followed closely by their father, Gene Thornton, in March 2022. Picture the emotional whirlwind: two crushing bereavements with scarcely any breathing room to cope. Yet, amid the agony, the Thornton brothers transformed their sorrow into something artistic and powerful.
The outcome was their July release, Let God Sort Em Out – their inaugural album as the iconic hip-hop pair Clipse since 2009's Til the Casket Drops, and widely hailed as one of the standout albums of 2023. As Grammy season approaches, it's shaping up to be a serious contender for accolades. Even after three years of mourning and the therapeutic release of this project, the pain remains strikingly vivid, a reminder that healing isn't linear.
Embedded within the 13-track collection is the opening song, "The Birds Don't Sing," a deeply emotive and somber ballad where Pusha T and Malice recount their ordeal with such piercing detail that listeners can't help but feel the weight of every lyric. This unflinching candor and openness permeate the entire record, making it a raw testament to vulnerability in music.
And this is the part most people miss: In a twist, Let God Sort Em Out also serves as a celebratory milestone for Clipse. Originally slated for 2024, the album's release was delayed due to Def Jam Recordings' unease over the optics of Kendrick Lamar's contribution on "Chains & Whips," especially given his high-profile clash with Drake. Undeterred, Clipse chose to cut ties with Def Jam entirely, incurring significant financial costs to exit their contract, and instead partnered with Roc Nation. As it turned out, they thrived without the label's support – the album soared to No. 4 on the Billboard 200 and earned widespread acclaim for its masterful craftsmanship. For beginners diving into the music industry, this highlights how artists sometimes gamble on independence to protect their vision, even if it means risking stability.
In an intimate chat with The Hollywood Reporter, Pusha T and Malice shared insights on their journey through grief, the sweet validation from the album's triumph, the irreplaceable bond of their sibling connection, and Pusha T's ambitious aim to grace the cover of Men's Health.
Let's clear up the name confusion: What's the story behind Malice versus No Malice?
Malice: From the very start, it was Malice, symbolizing my aggressive approach to crafting verses with a malicious edge – that's the essence of the name. Over time, as my beliefs and heart evolved, I wanted to demonstrate that there's no malice in me when it comes to causing harm or negativity. Still, when my brother and I reunited for the group, we felt it was essential to honor the original identity for ourselves and our fans. I didn't want to tweak Clipse in any small way; it's our authentic self when we're together, and that's how fans recognize us. I wouldn't change it for anything.
So, did your solo projects come under the No Malice moniker?
Malice: Exactly. I think you're among the first to dig into this clarification so thoroughly. I've mentioned it before, but you're really cementing it here, and I appreciate that.
I experienced my own mother's passing in 2019, and "The Birds Don't Sing" hit me hard. How has your grief shifted since losing your parents?
Pusha T: Honestly, I can't pinpoint a clear evolution. It simply doesn't vanish. It's challenging; some days flow better than others. Mornings might start smoothly, or they could involve tears in the shower. Performing the song at shows can feel okay one time, but rehearsals might trigger it unexpectedly. It's unpredictable, like moments of disbelief where I think, "Wow, I'm really performing this, and it's all too real."
I've repeated countless times, "I just can't wrap my head around it."
Malice: I echo everything Push said. There are instances when it feels surreal, because you're accustomed to your parents being there for calls, chats, advice – that constant connection. For me, especially after my 16-year hiatus, my faith has been my rock, providing strength and solace.
How crucial was your brotherly bond during this ordeal?
Malice: It meant everything not to face this path in isolation. Having a sibling who understands without words – the unspoken pain, the shared feelings – you just get each other. That mutual comprehension was a lifeline in processing the grief.
Pusha T: As the younger brother, I've always relied on him more than most. In this crisis, Malice was my foundation. From discovering our parents' passing to breaking the news, I often say God chose those who could endure it.
"The Birds Don't Sing" seems to connect deeply with many. We've seen so many hip-hop talents depart too soon. Now in your late 40s and early 50s, how has your way of life adapted?
Pusha T: On the health front, I've set my sights on landing the Men's Health cover as a personal milestone. With a lively five-year-old son, my fitness routine is all about him. Every workout and meal choice is geared toward staying in peak condition to match his energy and keep up with his antics. It's demanding, but I committed to it from the moment he arrived – focusing on nutrition, exercise, and activity.
You parted ways with Def Jam and landed with Roc Nation right before the album dropped. Did that feel like a sweet victory, proving you could succeed independently?
Pusha T: Absolutely, it was validating on multiple fronts. We knew our music hadn't lost its edge. It was amusing to see doubters during the process. We're selective about who accesses our work, keeping it intimate. Those who did get a glimpse often got entangled in the industry's superficial aspects – popularity games, politics, and arbitrary measures of success.
You could tell who truly appreciated the pure artistry: the songwriting, the rhymes, the beats, and the album's narrative. Others seemed superficial. So yes, it was gratifying to see skeptics pretend they saw it coming all along.
You trusted your instincts.
Not just that – we viewed it from a fresh perspective. I decided not to share the music with anyone who didn't feel aligned. It was like preemptively calling out the inauthenticity.
You both strike me as sharp observers.
Malice: Thanks. To add, the real beauty lay in our unwavering belief in the music – from the beats to the words, our collaboration, everything. Amid the industry drama and uncertainties from past label issues, I stayed calm because I knew once the music reached ears, it would shine. And true to that, we were selective not just with listeners, but with interviews too, under the same principle.
Pusha, what's it like being in a group with your older brother and sharing experiences like the Vatican trip?
Pusha T: These are monumental, history-making moments, and doing them with my brother is unparalleled – even after all my years in the game. Tackling this Clipse project has lifted a huge burden from me.
You've longed for this reunion.
Pusha T: Yes, for ages. And my solo journey? It's been a rollercoaster – full of drama, lacking that brotherly support in many ways. Reading fan comments, people note, "This is the happiest I've seen him." They spot it in my face at shows, sensing a new vibe from being with my brother rather than solo or in less familial settings.
I've been telling everyone I want to collaborate with no one else. Maybe a few R&B singers, but otherwise, I'm done with that.
Malice, what does reuniting with your younger brother in the group signify?
Malice: It's an enormous privilege. Witnessing how Pusha has maneuvered the industry as a solo act – his performance level, his consistent artistry – he's built a welcoming space for my return and kept it thriving. I have total faith in him. He claims I lighten his load, but really, he's easing mine. I just focus on rapping decently.
Just decently? [laughs]
Malice: Yeah, just decently [laughs]. But he leads with sharp vision, and I trust him completely. It's wonderful to share these adventures with my brother and our loved ones.
Now, here's a controversial twist to ponder: Is grief something that truly 'doesn't go away,' as Pusha T puts it, or do some find ways to move past it fully? And in the cutthroat music world, was Clipse's label rebellion a genius move or a risky gamble that could have backfired? Do you agree that sibling bonds are the ultimate support in tough times, or have you seen other dynamics work better? Share your thoughts in the comments – I'd love to hear if you've experienced similar losses or navigated industry politics yourself. What do you think makes a reunion album like this so impactful? Let's discuss!
