Anilyst – Attack Mode
Written By: Michael D. McClellan | The staccato gunfire shreds any opponent fool enough to take the challenge, words on top of words, an avalanche of syllables that cuts down even the most accomplished battle rapper. His videos have racked up millions of views and taken on a life of their own, in some cases outpacing uploads by Prince and Madonna. Fiercely independent, he’s chosen to blaze his own trail rather than sign with a label and relinquish the creative freedom that makes him one of hip-hop’s most intriguing artists. Haters who pegged him a one-trick pony were left sorely disappointed, his live performances clearly up to the standard set by his studio work, his maiden tour silencing the critics stupid enough to doubt his inner-showman in the first place.
In a music industry overrun with talented rappers, Anilyst stands out.
“I’ve always gone about my business a little differently than everyone else,” he says without the slightest hesitation. “I’ve never been one to follow the crowd.”
Anilyst is the antithesis of the well-worn hip-hop stereotype, a dude who doesn’t need to drop fuck every third word to make a point. Just don’t lump him in with milquetoast rappers like Will Smith. Bright and articulate, the son of Middle Eastern parents is equal parts Einstein and Eminem, frequently taking his craft into rarefied air, his lyrics easily consumed by the masses yet deceptively complex in their style and structure. Easy, you say? Go ahead, grab a pen and make a fool of yourself. Albert Einstein once rapped that the definition of genius is taking the complex and making it simple. E=mc2, bitches. Yes, there’s real genius in what Anilyst does, a phonetic savant who, to use his own words, raps so fast you’d think a cheetah passed.
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Triple Threat exploded and put Anilyst on the map. The conceptually fresh video – Anilyst in a straitjacket, held captive in a nondescript mental hospital with a scantily clad physician sitting across the table from him – proved the perfect vehicle to build an audience from scratch. While the sight of a sexy doctor stripping down to lace lingerie (hot pink, no less) builds tension and keeps eyeballs glued to the screen, it’s the rapper’s lyrics that trump the cleavage tempting the video’s spaced-out protagonist.
Anilyst the triple threat. Anilyst the triple threat. Anilyst the triple threat. Reppin’ while I cripple vets…
Six years and 7.8 million views later, Triple Threat continues to gift Anilyst legions of new fans.
“That video really built my name recognition,” he says. “I can’t say that it was an intentional marketing tactic on my part, because I didn’t think about it in those terms at the time, but there are people out there who refer to me as ‘Anilyst the Triple Threat.’ It’s insane how many times it’s been viewed.”
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With hypnotically deep pools for eyes and a perfectly groomed five o’clock shadow, Anilyst looks like anything but the geek he professes to have been growing up. He still reps his hometown of Fresno but he’s operating in Los Angeles now, a bigger stage with a bigger network to grow his brand. His mind never rests and that’s a good thing, because being Anilyst is a 24x7x365 endeavor, his every waking moment compartmentalized into multiple hyper-critical spheres: There’s the creative sphere, out of which pours the lyrics and beats that propel his music; there’s the social media sphere, which keeps him connected to the fans hungry for all things Anilyst; there’s the business and marketing sphere, the place where the merch is birthed and his music is made available for download from a variety of platforms; and there’s the performance sphere, the place where his videos and live performances intersect, the crossroads where faceless YouTube views meet real-world ticket sales. It’s a dizzying grind, akin to a presidential candidate on the campaign trail. That Anilyst does it all himself, and does so with mad skills across all of these spheres, is a testament to this multi-talented artist’s love for the game.
“Being independent means it’s all on me,” he says. “I have to grind all the time, and the output has to be on point. That’s the difference between someone who sits around and talks about wanting it, and someone who actually goes out and gets it. You have to sacrifice. You have to focus on doing what you love and think of nothing else, man. It’s about being in attack mode. Anything less than 100% and you’re going to fail.”
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The fans love Anilyst, and he loves them back. That simple truth is The Great Differentiator, the thing that sets Anilyst apart. Hit him up on social media and he’s going to hit you back. Throw a beat his way and he’s going to listen and provide constructive criticism. It’s all part and parcel of being connected to those who invest their time, energy and money in his multisyllable world.
“Without the fans I’m not in the game,” he says quickly. “I appreciate everyone who listens to my music, downloads a song, or buys a ticket to one of my shows. They have as much skin in the game as I do. It’s on me to deliver.”
You’re LA-born, but moved to Fresno at a young age.
We grew up in a fairly bad area in Northwest Fresno called C-Block. At the time, we were the only Middle Eastern family living on that block. I have two older sisters and an older brother, and we stayed away from trouble for the most part, which was something our parents were pretty adamant about. I was never a fan of school because I didn’t really click with the other kids. I always felt like I was a little different. I know a lot of artists say that they were a little off from the rest growing up, but that was definitely me.
Were you ever bullied at school?
I definitely got tested a lot growing up. I was always a kid who would stand up for himself, so I wouldn’t say that I got bullied because I never really gave anyone that opportunity. I think the fact that I got tested so much growing up made me who I am, and gave me that aggression and fierceness in my music.
What was it like to be Middle Eastern in Fresno at that time?
It was different, man. Fresno in general isn’t the best anyway, and then 9/11 happened and we had to deal with racial profiling and people being racist. People were angry. You had to watch your back, but to this day I still love the city because that’s where I’m from. I have friends there, and I still have some family out there.
You eventually went the home-school route.
I went to a public high school my freshman and sophomore years, but I was constantly getting into trouble with the other kids. It really got bad when I started to battle rap during my sophomore year – I’d win the battle but end up fighting, and sometimes small riots would break out. The last time I got suspended we decided that it would be better for me to pull out of school altogether and go to home studies instead.
Did homeschooling suit you?
Definitely. Nowadays home studies is much more the norm, and there isn’t the same stigma attached to it. Back then if you were home-schooled you were considered a terrible kid, and the other kids would talk about you and give you this really bad rep. I didn’t care what anyone thought. It turned out to be the best thing for me because those years of home-schooling are really what made me Anilyst. Before home-schooling, I was just this kid who wanted to rap. Those two years were so vital because I spent so much time alone. No friends, no distractions. I’d sit in my room with my computer, downloading all kinds of tracks off Napster – Eminem freestyles, Tupac songs – and that’s how I really started honing my craft.
How did you get started in battle rap?
I was looked at as a nerd during my freshman year of high school, while my friend BK – his real name is Brian King – was one of the really popular kids in school. BK was the only person who knew that I could rap, mostly because I was too embarrassed to tell other people. I would freestyle with him and he would say, “You gotta jump in these battles, man. You’re too good not to battle.” Well, there was another kid at school who was killing people in battles, nobody could beat him. I watched him, and during my sophomore year I became convinced that I could take him down…I just didn’t have the courage to challenge him to a battle. But BK stayed on top of me until I stepped into the ring with him.
Was it a real ring?
No. There wasn’t a stage or a ring or anything, it was a circle of 200-to-300 kids. The battles took place during lunch. It was a fairly aggressive environment – they would push you into the circle and you couldn’t get out.
What do you remember most about that first battle rap?
Back then you were expected to freestyle from the top of your head mostly, but you could also write stuff down, so I prepared a few things to say about what he was wearing that day. Then lunchtime comes. Everyone starts forming the circle. BK is running around trying to find me – I’m so nervous that I’m hiding on the other side of campus – and then someone points me out to him. He literally grabs me and says, “You’re doing this, bro, you’re going to kill this dude.” The next thing I know, Brian is dragging me across campus and pushing me in the circle. People were looking at me like, “This scrawny kid is going to battle?” And that’s when some kid hits the beatbox.
I did my thing – I said what I said to him – and the crowd went insane. It was crazy! I don’t know if you’ve ever been in a fight before, but in a fight you kind of forget what happened because of the adrenaline rush. That was me. I forgot a huge majority of what happened right after I got out of the circle, but everyone was screaming and telling me that I’d killed him. I will never forget that feeling. I was like, “This is who I am.” That fear went away, my confidence grew, and all I wanted to do from then on was battle. But that’s also when all the trouble around campus started to pick up. Everyone was like, “He’s that kid that nobody can beat.” That’s when my life changed, man. There was a lot of anger and jealousy.
Let’s talk rap Influence – for me, it was Eric B. and Rakim’s album Paid in Full, and Tupac’s single Brenda. What are some the mileposts in your journey into the rap game?
I fell in love with rap by listening to Tupac. I had a friend named Jamar, I think I was in the second or third grade, and he would talk about this rapper named Tupac Shakur. Rap was foreign to me at the time because I come from a Middle Eastern family and all my parents ever played was Arabic music. Occasionally my older sisters would turn on MTV, but I was too young to understand it. Then one day Jamar played Changes, and I was blown away by the way Tupac rhymed and told a story. He was rapping about the war in the streets and the war in the Middle East, so that related to me and made me a fan of rap.
Eminem and 50 Cent were the two artists who most inspired me to rap. The movie 8 Mile had a big influence on me. Maybe it was because I felt that I never got respect as a kid, or because I didn’t feel cool enough, but for whatever reason I could identify with Eminem’s character in that movie. It’s still one of my favorite movies because it inspired me to become a rapper.
About that same time, 50 Cent was starting to pop. I remember sitting in Spanish class and I heard one kid say to another kid, “Hey, have you heard of this rapper called 50 Cent?” And then one of them played the song Wanksta. I remember him putting his headphones on, and the song was so loud that I could hear the beat. Damn, that beat was so dope. I went straight home and searched for that song online, and I must have played it a hundred times. It just blew me away. As a matter of fact, the first album I ever bought was 50 Cent’s Get Rich or Die Tryin’, and I still think it’s a masterpiece. Those two things – Eminem’s movie and 50 Cent’s album – were what really dragged me into the rap game.
I don’t think people realize how hard it is to rap as fast as you do, and do it intelligibly.
After you’ve been doing it for so many years it becomes second nature, but getting to that point is not easy at all. Like, if the 14-year-old me could hear something that I’ve gone on to do – like Catch Up, for example – he would be like, “I don’t know how the hell you do that. That’s not even possible.” But because I’ve been doing it for so long now, it’s almost become autonomic.
Do you consider it a gift?
Not to sound arrogant or cliché, but it is really easy for me. I feel like anybody can do it, as long as they put the work in, the years of dedication that it takes to hone their craft. With that said, I do feel that I have a natural talent for rap.
You’ve built your shit from the ground up. Most people don’t understand the dedication, sacrifice, and grind involved.
Every aspect of what I do is on my own, and people truly don’t understand how much work that is. They think that I have a company behind me, and a team working with me every step of the way. They’re like, “There’s no way that you can do all of this.” But it’s all on me. It requires a lot of dedication, and you have to put in the time…and I believe that you have to be borderline OCD.
Are you OCD?
I watched Steve Jobs speak once, and he was talking about entrepreneurs who’ve become successful on a large scale. He said that those people have to be borderline crazy, because there is no way a rational person that would go to the lengths needed to achieve that kind of success. The same is true for me. There aren’t a lot of people rational people who would spend the amount of time that I do in the rap game. I am sacrificing and grinding all the time. The average person won’t do it because it’s too hard. There are no shortcuts. You have to put in the work.
You’ve developed your own style – ‘Syllable Sliding.’
Syllable Sliding is extreme multisyllabic rhyming. When I was learning how to rap, I was just rhyming the last syllable…kind of ABC-ish. Like, “I’m driving in a car, I’m going to go far.” I asked myself, “Why doesn’t this sound good? What makes the lyrics by Eminem sound good, or what makes a dope lyricist like Mos Def sound good?” Then I studied their lyrics and realized that they weren’t rhyming just the last syllable, but the syllables before that as well. I was like, “Shit, how do they rhyme two syllables, make it makes sense, and tell a story?” At first it seemed impossible. But I knew that that’s what the elite MCs were doing, so I tried to develop two syllables rhymes. Once I got two syllables down, I tried for three. Now, there are songs where I’ve gone twelve syllables deep, which is almost unheard of.
People don’t realize how hard that is.
They know that it takes talent, that it’s pleasing to the ear when they hear it, and that it makes sense to them sonically, but I think you have to be a rapper to truly appreciate it. It takes somebody that really knows the craft to understand that this multi-syllable game is crazy.
Tell me about your first EP, Syllable Sliding, Vol. 1.
For Syllable Sliding Vol. 1, I posted some songs and a couple of videos on YouTube – Triple Threat and Winners – and started generating a lot of buzz. My buddy started telling me that I had to drop a mix tape, so I finished some more songs and I called the project Syllable Sliding Vol. 1. I put a date on it and released it. It has been a classic, man.
Prince’s video Musicology is closing in on 2 million YouTube views. His video for the 1991 Number 1 hit Cream is at 4.2 million. Triple Threat is currently at 7.7 million and rising. What goes through your mind when you hear that?
That’s fun to think about, and hard to wrap my head around. It’s crazy, man. It’s such a big song. Incorporating my name into the song turned out to be a smart marketing move…Anilyst the Triple Threat is a great lyric because it helped to get my rap name out there. I can’t say it was intentional, but it worked.
How many times a day do you get asked about Triple Threat?
The main question that I get asked is if I slept with the girl in the video [laughs]. She’s just a friend, a great girl. I haven’t spoken to her in quite some time – she got married, which is super cool. I want to put it out there that she’s not like that in real life, that her performance in the video is just the character we created. She is a great, great girl. But yeah, I get asked a lot about Triple Threat, and it’s kind of become a cult classic now. It actually has its own following, which is crazy.
Tell me about your No Mercy video.
No Mercy was shot by Austin Ahlborg, the same guy who did Triple Threat. He’s a really great guy, a genius at what he does, super brilliant. He came out to Fresno for a couple of days and I took him around the city scouting for locations. We shot the majority of the video in Fresno, but we also went out to Palmdale, which is a desert area in California.
That video was intense – we got pulled over by a couple of cops, and we almost got shut down a couple of times. We didn’t have a big budget, so the idea was to keep it simple and kind of artsy. We also didn’t have permits, so we had to shoot it guerrilla style…we’d open up the camera if the cops weren’t around and shoot. If a cop showed up we’d go somewhere else. We did that last scene in Palmdale. The camera was mounted on the van, and I’m chasing the camera on foot until I cut to the left. Then I go to the BMW on the side of the road, which was my real car at the time, jump in and bust a U-turn, and then chase the van. The scene called for me to get as close to the van as possible, and if you watch the video closely it looks like I almost hit the van…which nearly happened, because I was about five inches away. It was stunt move for sure, but the end result turned out really great, man.
Syllable Sliding Volume 2 is great from top to bottom – and loaded with songs!
I appreciate that, man. Most major labels will put out one or two singles and then drop the album. Being independent, my approach has always been more aggressive. I usually write a song, record it, and then put it out on YouTube and get the feedback – and then repeat that process several times to get the buzz going. Then, after I have people talking, I drop the album and maybe surprise everyone with 10 or 11 brand new songs. That’s what happened with Syllable Sliding Volume 2.
How did the song 111 come about?
With Syllable Sliding Volume 2, I’d just moved from Fresno to Los Angeles, and that was my first apartment number. 111 is probably one of my favorite songs because, although it takes me back to a period in my life that wasn’t so great, it was a time where I felt like I really found myself as both an artist and a person. I’d just gone through a bad breakup. I was in L.A. by myself. I responded by spending a lot of time in the studio. I grew spiritually and mentally during that period.
Give me the genesis of Syllable Sliding Volume 2.
I was in this mode of writing and recording, writing and recording…and then I made the mistake of telling my fans that the release date for the album was going to be Halloween Day, 2013. I say mistake because it was already September, and there was barely a month left before the Halloween deadline – and I only had eight songs done. So in this month span I’ve got to crank out another twelve or thirteen really good songs. Fortunately I work well under pressure, so I’m like, “Okay, let’s do this.” And for the next month I’m in a zone – my phone was off, no social life whatsoever, just me writing and recording.
Did you ever doubt that you’d make the deadline?
No, but it was an extremely intense period in my life. Mind you, I record and edit the music myself, I do the majority of the mixing and mastering, and nobody is helping me behind the keyboard. It’s all me. It was intense man. Actually, that’s when I fell in love with coffee. I stayed up so late that I started drinking a lot of Turkish and American coffee. That’s how Syllable Sliding Volume 2 came to be.
What about Syllable Sliding 3?
Syllable Sliding 3 was basically the same formula; I put a release date on it before it was done, and then I cranked it out.
You’ve set yourself apart in the way that you connect with your fans.
That’s because I’ve had to work so hard to get fans. I think I appreciate them so much because I know what it was like to not have them. I never take them for granted, man. I look around, and it feels like a majority of the really successful artists out there don’t truly appreciate their fans. In a lot of cases, I think it’s because they got lucky along the way or they got famous really fast and didn’t have to work for it. Either way, it’s like they don’t know the value of having fans. I’m different because there were so many years where no one knew who I was. People weren’t listening to Anilyst. Hell, I was invisible. It left me wondering if I was going to make it, or if I’d be able to make a living as a rapper. It was a very depressing time, because there were so many moments when I doubted whether my break was ever going to come. Because of that, I never take my fans for granted.
Who inspired you to overcome the doubt?
I credit my mom, because she was always pushing me, and she has always been the battery in my back. There were times when I was depressed and I considered giving up, and if it wasn’t for her faith in me, I might have walked away from the rap game. I give her mad credit for that, especially with her being a Middle Eastern woman. Being from Palestine, that wasn’t easy for her. With the culture that we come from, it’s expected that you become an engineer or a doctor…those are considered successful professions. When I told her I wanted to become a rapper, she never blinked and she never questioned it. She simply said, “If this is what you want to do, just don’t give up. And if you’re going to pursue it, be the best. Do those things and you’ve got my support.”
There is a three year gap between Syllable Sliding 3 and Lystening.
That period felt like a new beginning for me because I was growing as an artist. Half of my fans were wanting me to change it up and try something different, and the other half was like, “Don’t change the formula, we want you to do what you do.” It was then that I realized that you can never satisfy everyone. I also stepped back and assessed where I was as an artist. On the way up I’d put out so much music in such a short span of time, but I don’t think I focused enough on the other aspects of being an independent artist. I decided to market myself more and build my fan base instead of just putting out more music. I started posting freestyle rap videos, growing social media, things like that. And it worked. I’d get 4 million views on this video, or 3 million views on that video, and I started to gain a little traction. When I felt like the buzz was at its peak, I decided to drop another album.
Tell me about your tour.
The crazy thing about touring is that you forget what city you’re in because you’re working on zero sleep. Everything is also happening so fast that there’s no time to think. I learned that some markets are better than others. For example, if we went to Kansas City and sold out, then Kansas City would be on my list for the next tour. Or if we played in Los Angeles and didn’t do well, then we might hold off, work on building up that fan base, and then go back at some point later. In reality, Los Angeles probably had the best turnout on the entire tour. The fans in L.A. are incredible.
What else did you learn about being on the road?
I didn’t know to expect on my first tour, but it went way better than I expected. The main thing is that it showed me that the fans are real. I’d open up YouTube and see 7 million views on Triple Threat, and that’s amazing, but it’s just a number. Performing live made it real. People were insane. There were fans holding up drawings of me, fans crying, fans chanting my name. There was a girl at one show who pulled out a $100 bill and asked me to autograph it.
I got noticed a lot in public before the tour – I’d go to the mall or the gas station and get noticed, lots of places – but when you step on stage and all of the people in the room are there to see you…they know your lyrics, they’re rapping along with you…it’s surreal. I almost messed up a couple of times because I was so flabbergasted [laughs].
When I interviewed Ne-Yo, we talked about the unfair criticism he’s received for being known more for his studio work than his live performances.
I can relate to that. Because of the way I’ve had to grow my brand as an artist, I’ve made the conscious decision to focus on putting out great music, and then supporting that music with the videos, etc. via social media. It wasn’t that I couldn’t perform live, it was a matter of priorities at the time. With that said, I developed a stigma because people thought that I was just a “studio rapper.” Trust me, I heard the talk. People from Fresno would always say, “Oh, he’s a famous online rapper, but he can’t perform live,” but in my head I’m thinking, “These people have no idea.” I started out battling, so my roots are in performing live. I knew what I could bring to the stage. After that tour, I never heard those rumors again. If you’ve been to one of my shows, you quickly learn that my live performance game is actually better than my pre-recorded stuff.
You went on tour before LYSTening dropped.
The conventional way to promote an album is to drop it and then go on tour, but there have been other artists who have done it the opposite way. Tech N9ne is great example. But there is no blueprint for how to do it anymore, so I didn’t want to wait until I dropped the album. I had the opportunity to do the tour, so I did the tour, and then dropped the album three months later.
Who produces your beats?
I use different talent. I have a lot of fans who are producers that hit me up with beats, and the majority of them are really talented. Funny thing is, a lot of them are international. That’s not to discredit any producers from America, because the United States is still the music Mecca of the world, but there is real talent in places like Europe and Australia. Triple Threat was produced by an Australian guy, for example, and 111 was with a guy from Germany. The majority of my latest album was produced by talent from Germany, although there are some New York cats and California talent on it as well. Bottom line, I never just stick to one producer because I don’t want my beats to have a repetitive feel.
Take me inside your creative process.
I can work in a room with producers, and I’ve done that before, but my preference is to be totally alone. I like the darkness. I like to turn the lights off, so that it’s just me and the computer screen and the beat blaring. I’m also big on meditation and prayer, and the only thing that comes close to the feeling that I get when I’m meditating is the euphoria that comes from writing.
I don’t handwrite my lyrics anymore – I used to write everything down on paper – now I use my laptop because it’s cleaner, faster, and way more efficient. Writing is less predictable than recording. There are times when you can sit there for an hour and come out with an amazing song, whereas other times it could take a week. Once everything is fully written and the structure of the song has been built, then the actual recording process doesn’t take long. That’s because I record it myself and don’t have to rely on an engineer. Once the recording is locked in, the mixing and mastering won’t take more than a couple of days.
Are you a perfectionist?
I’m over the top, man [laughs]. I’ll work on a song and there will be one bar left, and I’m trying to find the right word. I might let a producer hear it, and the response might be, “It’s perfect, bro. Just put it out.” I can’t. I’ve got to fix that last word, and I’ll sit on that one word until I figure it out. I call myself Anilyst because I can over-analyze every tiny word and phrase. I’ve clashed with so many producers over the years. They will say, “This guy, he’s too nitpicky.” But that’s just me. I’ve tried to do it the other way and let that word go, but I just can’t do it. It has to be right.
Whose equipment do you use?
When I’m at my place, I use some speakers with a mixing board to get a draft mix down. Once I get it the way I want, I’ll take it to a studio and mix it professionally.
Do you have better access equipment in Los Angeles?
The driver behind moving to L.A. was opportunity, not technology. In Los Angeles, there are so many more people to connect with. So it wasn’t necessarily because of the studios. Today you can have great studios pretty much anywhere, and walk away with products that have amazing sound quality. I had a great studio out in Fresno. I’ve heard music that has been recorded in million-dollar studios and the sound quality is terrible, and I’ve listened to artists who’ve recorded in a $500 studio and the sound quality is incredible.
What’s the L.A. scene like?
I actually reside in the San Bernardino area, which is about an hour from Los Angeles. I moved outside of L.A. because I realized that, with the power of the Internet, you don’t necessarily need to be living in Los Angeles these days. Living 45 minutes to an hour away helps avoid the traffic, making it easier to move around a little faster during everyday life. And then, when I need to network in L.A., I can get there in about an hour.
Let’s talk about LYSTening.
It was a similar approach to Syllable Sliding 3, where I dropped a few songs leading up to the release. But instead of just dropping songs, I also dropped a lot of freestyles…basically me grabbing the phone in the car and rapping. I called the series Bars in the Car. I’d post them to YouTube and people would sound off. They would let me know which songs I should make into a full song. So I took specific songs people thought were dope, finished them, and that collection became the album.
That’s a great way to include your fans in the finished product.
People who took notice were ecstatic. It was a smart marketing tactic because I’d already given them samples along the way. When the hype reached a critical mass I dropped an album with them 20-plus songs. Most artists these days drop ten songs if you’re lucky, but my fans know that I’m always coming with a lot more.
You’re really big on social media.
I feel like I was ahead of the game with that, especially when I was back in Fresno. There were a lot of rappers who would talk to me about performing, getting shows in clubs, traditional avenues to get my name out. I would tell them that shows are always going to be necessary, but an effective online presence is way more powerful than any show. A hundred people might come out and see you live, and that’s great, but if you get 200 views, that’s 200 people who got to see you and they are not surrounded by people who are drunk in the club, getting into fights, etc. And they aren’t dealing with a lot of loud stuff going on around them, or checking out the girls in the audience. With a view on social media, they might share it with a friend, who shares it with a friend. It’s a much more powerful tool. Back then I just couldn’t get other rappers to comprehend that.
What’s next for Anilyst?
More singles and more videos, bro. I also have some collaborations in the works. A few of those I’m going to keep under wraps for the time being, but one of them is with a really talented up-and-comer who’s built a pretty big following for himself. His name is Massive Man. He put out a couple of videos on YouTube that went viral, and then we connected. So yeah, I’ve got some dope collaborations coming. I’ll also be back on the road very soon with a new tour.
Final Question – If you had one piece of advice for other aspiring artists, rap or otherwise, what would that be?
Two things: To believe, and to have faith. I feel that there is real power in believing in yourself, and in believing that there’s is something outside of yourself that has your back. There are going to be a lot of people along the way who are going to try to discredit you, to tear you down, to tell you that you can’t succeed, to tell you to quit because it’s too hard. As long as you believe in yourself and hold true to your faith, then there is nothing that can stop you.
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