In 2015, Erykah Badu released the mixtape “But You Caint Use My Phone.” Inspired by artists such as Drake, J Dilla, Uncle Jamm’s Army and the Egyptian Lover, Badu utilizes this collection to emulate the styles of musicians she has collaborated with or been influenced by throughout her career. In “Cel U Lar Device,” for example, Badu remakes Drake’s “Hotline Bling,” changing some lyrics and elements of instrumentation. Badu ties each song together with musical motifs, integrating intentionality into the album’s playful experimentation. In this album, Badu expresses her appreciation for the spiritual power of phones, having previously stated that she finds “cellular devices” to be divine objects.

One late night at Hawthorne-Longfellow Library, I played the final track of Badu’s masterpiece for Matthew Stein ’27. The song begins with birds chirping, footsteps in leaves and a repetitive line of Badu singing “Hello, hello, hey, hello, hello.” André 3000’s extremely recognizable voice soon jumps in, breaking into a lyrical rap intro. After around a minute and a half, the beat drops satisfactorily, and the versatility of the song becomes clear.

Matthew heard this interesting creation—unsurprisingly titled “Hello”—on noise-canceling headphones (to maximize audio quality, of course). Bouncing his leg and nodding his head, he did not open his eyes once until the song had finished. Throughout the listening session, Matthew occasionally furrowed his brow and increased or decreased his bodily movement. Upon its conclusion, he opened his eyes, removed the headphones and proceeded to ask if he could guess the names of the artist and song. He determined both almost perfectly.

“There’s different sections with different instrumentation,” Matthew noticed. He commented on the way that Badu and André 3000 utilized their “stereoscape” to build a world of sound. Through the development of those “different sections,” an evolving ambience is established. Matthew particularly enjoyed the “organic” quality of the drums, feeling as though there was someone making “conscious decisions” while playing. He very pertinently pointed out that what makes André 3000’s flow unique is his nonconformity to a beat. Because the percussion in “Hello” also shares that personality, Matthew articulated that “you get [an] interplay between the drums and the vocalist.”

When asked about the space we were in and whether or not it affected his interpretation of the song, Matthew said that closing his eyes allowed him to concentrate more. The ANC headphones already quieted outside noise (such as the library bells signaling closing time). He told me, “I forgot where I was. Not literally. Metaphorically.” Also, this “metaphor” thing pops up quite a lot in his speech, so he requested I mention that everything he says is a metaphor.

Matthew is a trumpeter but occasionally dabbles in bass, piano, drumming and writing great stuff for The Harpoon. He’s one of those people who can play a little bit of every instrument. A common trend of his while soloing on trumpet is shutting his eyes intently.

“I close my eyes when I’m interacting with music. It limits distractions. The same way I wanted to concentrate on the song when I was listening to it, I close my eyes to concentrate when I want to improvise on trumpet. If I close my eyes, I can see images. So when I’m playing trumpet, there’s visual representations of things I’m doing.” He added at the end, “This is all a metaphor.”

I wanted to know what Matthew’s ideal environment for “Hello” would be. At first, he brought up the beach. Then, he clarified: “If it’s daytime, you have to listen to it at the beach. If you’re not at the beach, you have to listen to it at night. This would hit riding home in the summertime, the windows down, at night.”

Sometimes when I go on a swing set or a rollercoaster, I like to close my eyes. It’s frightening to not see anything in those situations, but there’s also something enticing about surrendering to the images conjured behind my eyelids. When I try hard enough, I can pretend I’m flying. I imagine that when I hear “Hello” next, I’ll pretend it’s a summer night, maybe on the road somewhere with the windows rolled down and the outside coming in.