BREAKING
THE
SIR
BAPTIST
BY MARTY SARTINI GARNER PHOTO BY ROZETTE RAGO
BACKSTORY: William James Stokes went from synching ad licenses for other musicians to living out of his car to recording for a major label— all in the span of a few years
FROM: Straight outta Bronzeville— Chicago’ s answer to Harlem and the onetime home of Louis Armstrong and Nat King Cole
YOU MIGHT KNOW HIM FROM: His verse on the Chance the Rapper – featuring“ Familiar,” from last year’ s Donnie Trumpet & the Social Experiment project Surf, or his appearance backed by a gospel choir on Late Night with Seth Myers
NOW: Preparing to release PK: Preacher’ s Kid, his full-length debut
“ LAST TIME JESUS WAS IN THE CHURCH, YOU KNOW WHAT HE DID?” Sir the Baptist asks. We’ re sitting on the lip of a fountain in Chicago’ s Grant Park, where in the coming weeks he’ ll play a homecoming set at Lollapalooza, and he’ s taking advantage of the open space to sermonize.“ He threw the fuckin’ tables over.”
Whether that exclamation counts as light heresy is likely beside the point for Sir, who was born William James Stokes on Chicago’ s South Side; the son of a preacher, he’ s experienced his fair share of trials inside the church and out. At one point during his live set at nearby Columbia College later in the day, he’ ll tell of how his sister was repeatedly beaten by her husband, a leader in the church, and he’ ll cackle with glee when relating how dramatically she eventually returned the beating. For him, perseverance and triumph are a kind of healing, and all healing is divine.“ Religion has put so much fear in us,” he says.“ Go outside the walls and do something. When Jesus was in the church, he was destroying the tables. When he was outside of the church, he was healing people.”
That’ s not to say that Sir takes his mission too seriously. Live, he’ s backed not only by a drummer and tuba player, but by a gospel choir that can number in the teens. Another nattily dressed singer serves as both hype man and deacon. And Sir himself is always decked out in a robe.
While he’ s an astute rapper— you don’ t share a track with Chance the Rapper on theology alone— Sir is, effectively speaking, more of a musical preacher than he is traditional emcee. He stamps across the stage, guiding his live band into a twinkling interlude while he delivers a message about the ways he’ s been redeemed from the time he spent living in the back of his van. Every morning, he’ d wake up, dust himself off, air out the van, and hit the road as a driver for Lyft. After work, he’ d write songs in the backseat; eventually, Lyft found out about his talents and arranged for him to meet with record labels. God works in mysterious ways.
Meetings with Atlantic eventually yielded Sir the Baptist a deal. His second single,“ Raise Hell,” has already been streamed a couple of million times on Spotify, and its heavy piano and party-ready chorus—“ Born a sinner and I’ m’ bout to sin again tonight”— neatly capture both the holiness and the happiness inherent in his art.
“ Sometimes I’ m laughing,” he says of what seems to be the song’ s light treatment of that heaviest of theological concepts.“ But sin is inescapable, right? Your human senses are the canvas for sin. If you use your eyes to look at someone, you’ re going to judge them.” For Sir, though, such fatalism is only cause for hope.“ Every day you’ re going to wake up, and you’ re going to sin, and you’ re going to have to find a way to [ let it ] make you a better person. Don’ t let it make you uncaring. So many people will kill themselves over their sins and over the pressures of being perfect.”
As he prepares to release PK: Preacher’ s Kid, Sir plans on bringing his band down to New Orleans, then tracing the path back to Chicago along the same route followed by his father, who, like many African-Americans of his era, migrated from Alabama to The Windy City early in the first half of the twentieth century.“ We’ d love to say we conquered the Grammys or whatever,” he says.“ But to do that route is something I’ m more passionate about.” It’ s about reclaiming his history, both discovering and representing the endlessly complex world that created him.
“ I’ m just trying to piece it together,” he says.“ If I do it like gospel rap, you’ re going to think it’ s cheesy; too much rap and I’ ll lose my spirit.” And with that, he walks back into the covered tent at Columbia, and he holds church.
10 FLOOD