JJ Qaiyum, aka “JJQ,” has the stage strut down: the requisite snarl when he spits rhymes; a loose-limbed bounce; a mop of honey-gold hair to flop along with his favored “golden era” boom bap beats.
What JJ lacks right now is sleep. Stretching out on the carpet in his family’s Lincoln Square basement recording studio on a recent afternoon, he yawns expansively, a big-cat kind of yawn.
Rappers need sleep too — especially 11-year-old ones who have homework, piano practice, and, last week, preparations for an album-release party at Martyrs’ in North Center.
“I am not good at this part of parenting,” Jeffrey Qaiyum, JJ’s dad, says sheepishly when asked about his 6th-grade son’s bedtime.
You perhaps know Jeffrey Qaiyum, aka JQ, from the Q Brothers Collective, Chicago-based artists who have done for Homer, Shakespeare and Dickens what Lin-Manuel Miranda did for early American history — only decades earlier.
Now JQ is navigating the tricky terrain of guiding a kid eager to follow in his dad’s footsteps, one whose dinosaur-themed rap at the Austin City Limits Music Festival late last year drew a combined 10 million views across various social media sites.
Not surprisingly, JJ has become something of a celebrity among his classmates at Waters Elementary School.
“My best friends are repeating my lyrics to me,” JJ says.
They also let him know when a new video of his work pops up online. JJ can’t check for himself because he isn’t allowed to have a phone.
That’s part of the go-slow approach his parents want for a kid whose adult teeth are still coming in.
“This viral moment happened. We’re trying to take it slow. This is the kind of house where it’s going to be led by [JJ], if he wants to do it,” says JQ, blending a smoothie of celery, spinach, avocado and a host of other super foods for JJ and siblings Cora, 9, and Amina, 7.
JJ’s Austin City Limits stage debut was actually kind of a last-minute thing.
“I was just brainstorming and I said, ‘JJ, do you want to take some of these songs? Then, I could fill this set out,’” JQ says.
JJ pumped his fist in the air when he learned it would also mean missing two days of school, his dad said.
The rap, written by his dad, blew up on social media with verses that include: “Tyrannosaurus rex had all the fame, but I like a little dino with a really long name … It’s a micropachycephalosaurus … “
And now, JJQ features prominently on the Q Brothers’ latest album, “Notice and Wonder.”
“It’s my dream come true,” JQ says. “I get to rap with my kids. We try to set up a house here, where art is not just something you cherish and love, but it’s something you participate in — and everybody does.”
That includes JJ’s sister Cora, another natural.
“Before I get on the stage, I’m just a little nervous. … When I’m on the stage, I barely even notice people are watching me,” she says.
Cora is also on hand to remind her brother that he’s not yet a household name.
To a visitor, JJ looks fly in Adidas olive-and-tangerine training gear.
“This tracksuit is becoming his signature look,” Cora says, eyes rolling. “He wears it every single day now.”
Okay, so maybe not quite the lived-in cool of their dad, who sports springy silver locks on top, hair shaved on the sides, and a long silver chain around his neck.
All of which makes one wonder what it must be like to have a pre-teen kid who doesn’t cringe when their dad opens his mouth.
Well, mostly …
“The most embarrassing thing he does, is when he tries to use slang or say memes that my friends and I use to joke with each other,” JJ says.
A little later that morning, another member of Q Brothers stops by — Postell Pringle, aka Pos. His two kids are also on the new album.
“This whole culture was started by kids their age, and maybe a little bit older, in the Bronx looking for something to do walking among burning buildings,” Pos says. “It all comes from the youth trying to find a voice, and that’s still true. That’s in the DNA of hip hop.”
Pos is 50, JQ is 46.
“We’re grandpas in hip-hop years,” JQ says.
He talks about passing the baton.
The mood in the basement turns a bit somber.
“I feel like it’s just sad because I want you to keep rapping,” JJ says.
JQ’s face brightens.
“I’m saying you’re the new generation coming up and you’re actually starting to write your own rhymes and starting to perform, and people like it,” he says to his son. “It’s cool. When I say, ‘pass the baton,’ It doesn’t mean you can’t pass it back. We’re on a team.”