For 14 years, OutKast redefined the boundaries of Southern rap, a genre they arguably invented, by fusing their diverse musical influences into something entirely their own. The duo’s dynamic interplay was their strength: Big Boi’s grounded, rhythmic lyricism offered a stark contrast to André 3000’s cosmic exploration. While Big Boi’s verses reflected the grit and reality of West Savannah, André seemed to drift into the ether, channeling existential musings like, “Me and everything around me is unstable like Chernobyl,” as he rapped on the ATLiens track “Millenium.” As OutKast’s sound evolved, so did its members. Big Boi leaned into his role as a Georgia funk maestro, while André transformed into a kaleidoscopic pop visionary, drawing on influences like Prince and Sly Stone. By the time he released The Love Below, André had fully embraced his experimental edge, leaving fans clamoring for more of his singular creativity.
When OutKast went on hiatus and Big Boi launched a solo career, André took a different path. Instead of releasing his own records, he became a mythic figure, delivering stunning guest verses before retreating into obscurity. His mystique only deepened in 2019, when sightings of him playing a Mayan double flute in airports around the world surfaced online. These moments added to his legend, painting him as a wandering sage who appeared only to bestow brief, magical encounters. So, while surprising, it feels fitting that New Blue Sun—André’s first album in 17 years—isn’t a rap record at all. Instead, it’s an ambient jazz opus, a collection of ethereal New Age improvisations featuring André on a digital wind instrument. The lush textures recall the spiritual excursions of John and Alice Coltrane or the meditative sonic landscapes of Laraaji. With its blend of organic and electronic sounds, the record places André among experimental artists like Jon Hassell and Justin Walter, whose “Fourth World” compositions meld the alien with the inviting. The album is entirely instrumental, with no lyrics, beats, or overt references to André’s OutKast legacy—save for the title of the opening track: “I Swear, I Really Wanted to Make a ‘Rap’ Album But This Is Literally the Way the Wind Blew Me This Time.” Still, New Blue Sun feels intrinsically linked to André’s past work. His rhythmic sensibilities remain fluid and elastic, and some tracks evoke the ghost of an Organized Noize production, just a drum machine and handclap away from full-blown nostalgia.
The project is a collection of sprawling, improvisational jams. It began serendipitously, after André met Los Angeles percussionist and producer Carlos Niño at a grocery store. Niño, a staple of LA’s experimental jazz scene, introduced André to key collaborators like Surya Botofasina on synthesizers, Nate Mercereau on guitar, and Matthewdavid on “mycelium electronics.” Together, they created music that feels like smoke tendrils, intertwining gently and floating in space. Because the album is rooted in improvisation, it has a raw, organic quality. Listeners can hear the musicians breathing, shifting in their seats, and adjusting equipment—elements that make the record feel like an intimate, live experience. It’s music that invites you to sit with it, letting its unhurried pace wash over you. Played on headphones, it pulls you into the room with the ensemble. Played in the background, it effortlessly carries you through an hour and a half, like sunlight lazily moving across the floor. With New Blue Sun, André 3000 proves once again that reinvention is his essence. It’s not the album fans may have expected, but it’s an authentic expression of his creative journey—a bold, beautiful departure that feels as cosmic and singular as the artist himself.