Goldyard: fashionably late

On a Saturday afternoon at Mi Barrio Restaurante Mexicano in Grant Park, the members of Goldyard are all waiting on straws to go with their large cups of margarita. Well, everyone but producer/DJ Flick James, who says he trusts that the glasses are sanitary and the rest of us should just “dive in.”

That’s when MCs In-Doe and A.T. tell a story about Flick’s run-in with an urn while the group was on Jarren Benton’s My Grandma’s Basement Tour last summer. Apparently a homeless man at their stop in Detroit was selling “miscellaneous shit.” As A.T. tells it, “This motherfucker proceeds to put alcohol in it and everybody’s like, ‘You won’t do it.’ He’s like, ‘I’ll do it’ — drinks the shit. Dead body and all.”

The back and forth that follows the debauched tale plays out like a friendly argument between brothers, except these siblings aren’t rivals. They’re friends, musical partners, and might be the best damn “new” hip-hop act coming from ITP, and that’s just off one EP.

Released in January as part one in an EP trilogy, Fuck Culture was Goldyard’s audio intro to the world, even if that meant some of the material included in the packaging was two years old. Despite the chronology of when the songs on Fuck Culture were created, the EP plays like a cohesive, confident debut, and thus far it’s one of the strongest local hip-hop releases of the year. “Making the music has never been the issue,” Flick says. “We’ve been sitting on a lot.”

A California native, Flick’s the one folks have seen rocking the ape mask at Goldyard’s live shows, in videos, and press photos. He met A.T. (the tall, bearded cat usually rocking a beanie), a North Carolina transplant, in Atlanta seven years ago through mutual friends and started working on music like the dark, trippy sing-song of “Blown.” The relationship between A.T. and In-Doe (you guessed it, the one with the hair) goes even further back to the 10th grade, when the two met at high school in Charlotte. The fellas were into music, but basketball was where their energy was focused. In-Doe even brags (like any good New Yorker would) about how he once broke the ankles — figuratively, not literally — of NBA All-Star Stephen Curry with a mean-ass crossover.

Eventually In-Doe, A.T., and Flick would all link up in ATL, but under the moniker of “A.T. & In-Doe,” with their tracks produced by the latter. The first hint of their sound came with the ambitious but overlooked Us and Them. In late 2011, Flick remembers being drunk with Cousin Dan (who sometimes braids In-Doe’s hair), and coming up with the name “Goldyard” by complete accident, or inebriated good fortune. Goldyard “sounded more like a band” In-Doe says, and included the three artists as one group, kind of like Gangstarr, just add an extra Guru.

In late 2011, early 2012, Goldyard was ready to unleash its rebranded name and sound, but Father Time had different plans.

“Every time we put something out, it was like A$AP sounded like it, Trinidad James sounded like it,” In-Doe says of why the group held back on releasing its single “Everything’s Gold” because of the out-of-nowhere success of Trinidad James’ “All Gold Everything,” and the corresponding video shot by Motion Family. “We had to reformat what we were doing.”

A.T. expands on their frustration without a hint of bitterness. “We had to be Goldyard, we couldn’t be somebody else,” he says. “It just took like a year to get all our shit back together how we wanted to do it.”

So they waited. And waited some more. In between, Goldyard played songs that would end up on Fuck Culture at shows, for Jarren Benton and his late manager, Jahmal “Slow” Pryor. They also got a “what the fuck are you waiting for?” push from A3C Hip-Hop Festival General Manager Mike Walbert.

Watching their peers and other less talented groups come and go, waiting for the perfect window to officially share their music was no longer an option. After hearing Fuck Culture, you’ll probably wonder what the hell In-Doe, A.T., and Flick were waiting on. “We were shooting in the gym,” Flick (and Rick Ross before him) says.

Practice paid off. Whether it’s the depressingly edgy tone of “Live,” the raw, sex-fueled gangsta of “French,” or the hopelessness of “Paranoid,” the Goldyard boys don’t hold anything back, and taking enjoyment in their dark days and bright nights is more fun than it should be. “We don’t sugarcoat shit,” In-Doe says. “Niggas think about killing themselves sometimes, you know? Everybody feels that way. You’re up, you’re down — that’s life.”

Star Bar promoter Luis Sandoval of Team Luis was among the first people to give Goldyard a chance at performing when he caught wind of them back in 2012. Sandoval was booking Goldyard on bills with non-hip-hop acts at the Star Bar, and declares that Fuck Culture is one of the best releases to come out of the city in a long time. “I played it on repeat for a couple of days,” Sandoval says. “It’s hip-hop, so there’s a culture of being tough, but they’re more focused on being honest.

The reality for Goldyard is that they have tools for continued success, but the trick will be releasing music on a consistent basis, despite what the rest of industry or culture is doing. On top of that, the group is headed to SXSW to join the likes of EarthGang, Chuck Inglish, Problem, and others for A3C’s Best in Show showcase.

After that, Goldyard will return home and start prepping videos for “Live,” “Get Your Weight Up,” and “Die Tonight.” By April or May, they’ll release the spring edition of Fuck Culture. Goldyard has ATL’s ear, but says its success depends on a willingness to embrace the scene’s cliquish nature, or at least find a way around the system.

“In Atlanta, you either have it with certain people, or you don’t, and those certain people can help you a lot,” A.T. says. “If it was just for music I don’t think none of us would have a problem right now, period.”

That said, none of Goldyard’s members are interested in talking about the day jobs that fund their dreams of making music full time. Even after the second pitcher of margaritas is polished, the fellas are looser, but still have their wits (and mystery) to maintain. (In case you’re wondering, Flick did not wear the ape mask for the interview.)

By now, A.T. is outside on the phone talking to his Falcons cheerleader girlfriend, Vic’s sharing stories about living and making music with Kid Cudi back in the day, and that’s when Flick delivers a final thought about Goldyard’s journey and the path that lies ahead. “It’s like any business where now we have enough of our product,” he says. “That’s why I was never against taking our damn time to finally put out quality shit. Now we have to keep it up.”

The rat race is on, and Goldyard is up to the challenge; it doesn’t matter if it’s a sprint or marathon. Just no promise that there won’t be any more dead bodies guzzled along the way.