The Rhymes of Our Lives

Allow me to share with you the default song-in-my-head since 1999. It's the track that comes to mind after all others have faded away.

Black Star "Definition"

Where Brooklyn? (See that?)

peace.

Emcee of the Month: MF Doom

I have to admit. Part of the reason MF Doom is this month's emcee is this video right here.

I first came across this video about a year and a half ago. I believe my homie Marcel sent it to me when I told him I'd been underestimating MF Doom's influence in hip hop and requested he point me in the right direction to explore the world of the Metal Face. After watching this, I knew I had to play quite a bit of catch-up.

For me, the most delightful aspect of this video is that fans like us rarely have the opportunity to witness our musical and cultural heroes responding to their peers with this amount of admiration. My friends and I spend what seems like hours throwing song quotes at each other, completely amused by the absurdity, cleverness, or aggression of the music we love. To see that one of hip hop's most successful and acclaimed performers experience this art in the same way confirms that we truly are a community. That's something special.

peace.

Travelling Man

Tomorrow, I leave from Raleigh-Durham International Airport and head to Vancouver for five weeks to work as an associate instructor at Canada's National Voice Intensive. My bags are packed, my bike is stowed and my cat is secured. My flight leaves RDU at 10:14am and including travel to the airport, I can look forward to approximately 16 hours of travel time.

Considering that 150 years ago it took 16 months of travel to cross North America, I don't think I have much about which I can complain.

Tonight though, I leave you with DJ Honda and Mos Def for company. Consider it my theme music for tomorrow's journey. And to quote I'm Gonna Git You Sucka... :)

peace.

Sharpton Vs. West: The Knock Down

For context of this post, see this.

Al Sharpton is right. It's not Barack Obama's job to write every bill and take up every local cause in the country. The job of the President is to shape and guide an all-encompassing American agenda that allows for the nuances of our society to shake themselves out.

Cornel West is right. President Obama is the singular most influential and representative figure of everything that is the United States of America. It's his job to be attentive and sensitive to the needs of all of us, and support us in our battles and struggles as we navigate this delicate society.

But this isn't about that. No, this post is about the silly, abrasive, hilarious, wonderful collision between two of black America's largest egos, Professor Cornel West and Reverend Al Sharpton.

My first response to this video was, "Who at MSNBC thought is was a good idea to put West and Sharpton in the same room on television? Haven't they been paying attention?"

For the sake of full disclosure, I'm not really a fan of either of the cats. Not because I don't think they take appropriate positions on the given topics; most often they do and I agree with much of what they say. But rather they communicate a sense of cultural privilege; an arrogance that their points of view should never be shunned because of their status in the black community. They both seem to attempt serving as the mouthpiece of a community without maintain a sense of participation in it.

Consider Al Sharpton for a moment. I remember when he ran for president back in 2004. During the Democratic primaries, there were a few debates that featured all of the Democratic nominees for that year, all 10 of them. (That's right. Ten. Look here.) Sharpton would show up to the debates and blow more wind than a nor'easter. And yes, he would make great points, shake up the debate a little, and even brought some occasional comedy to the conversation. But most of the time he read as the loud, bossy, bombastic black dude more interested with his own voice than adding to the conversation.

Then there's Professor West. You know, very rarely does he fail at coming off as completely pompous and hyper-rhetorical. Yes, he is a very intelligent cat. That's not the problem. But he imparts his intelligence and insight with such inaccessible vocabulary that his arguments read as cryptic and difficult to follow. I do give him credit for the ability to be a translator for the black community to people who may not fully understand our collective impulses (see West and Mos Def of Real Time with Bill Maher). More often than not, however, I think his comments and lectures do more to gratify the black elite in the belief of their own exceptionalism than make significant strides in a societal understanding of the African American experience.

Actually, I'm glad MSNBC got these two together.

"A little nonsense now and then is cherished by the wisest men." Roald Dahl

peace.

No Wack Verses Club

About a year ago my friend Marcel and I got into a conversation about emcees we thought had never performed a wack verse (a poorly written rhyme for the uninitiated). It's a difficult concept to gauge. We all have our own sense of poetic excellence; not all emcees will appeal to all people. However, I think the most appropriate way to evaluate this topic is by comparing an emcee to the best examples of his or her work.

All rappers have one or two instances in their careers in which most of their fans agree to be defining moments. Many Kanye West fans feel his ability was most palpable on the Late Registration album. Nas fans will more often than not refer to his lyrical mastery peaking at Illmatic. You see the trend. To ascertain an emcee's consistency, I use their perceived artistic peak as a measuring stick for the rest of their catalogs.

Here I have an ever evolving list of emcees who I feel belong in the No Wack Verses Club. If you have any to add or take away, get at me and we'll discuss it.

But yea, I've never heard anyone listed below kick a wack verse. Ever.

Black Thought

Joell Ortiz

Jean Grae

Elzhi

Andre 3000

Big Boi

MF Doom

Phonte of Little Brother

Bahamadia

Lauryn Hill

Royce da 5' 9"

peace.

notice: updated 4/4 due to spirited conversation with my homie Marcel

Hip Hop is Fearless

Just when I thought I'd gotten a handle on the whole hip hop thing, here come these cats.

I remember when OutKast's Aquemini album came out back in 1998. I had been anxiously awaiting its release. When I bought it, I put it in the cd player of my car and began listening to it everyday on my way to school. I hated it for about two weeks.

But it wasn't Outkast's fault. It was mine.

You see, anytime an artist makes a significant and extensive leap forward in statement or aesthetic, the folks who consume their work have difficulty fully integrating the new information. We need time to catch up. These cats go into their studios, theatres, and writing rooms and devote hundreds of hours to advancing their work. The good ones are taking huge risks and making real progress, inevitably cruising right on by the artistic sensibility of their audience. So it can be a challenge for us observers and commentators to stay on the leading edge of the movement. It absolutely requires us to be completely open and witness the work with the mind of a beginner.

That's why I'm completely enraptured by this video. These cats scare me, in a good way; not because they have masks on or sound like death metal rap. But rather, they are hip hop artists that are taking an extraordinary risk in the type of music they chose to make. Their risk challenges me to envision an entirely new avenue down which hip hop may travel. I'm excited to see where their journey takes them. I'll be checkin' for 'em.

Because Aquemini is a classic.

peace.

Story Time with DJ Premier

from Complex magazine:

Without a doubt, DJ Premier is top-five dead-or-alive, one of the greatest hip hop producers ever, and your favorite producer's producer won't tell you any different. The Houston, Texas native's sound, which consists of chopped samples looped over crisply punched drums, and accented with a signature scratch chorus, hasn't changed much, but still fits as the perfect hip hop soundtrack for New York's Timberland-boots-certified street aesthetic.

Even after 22 years in the game, reports about his production credits possibly surfacing on the upcoming albums of everyone from Drake to Immortal Technique keep fans on their toes. His continuous relevance asserts that East Coast boom-bap sound is still beloved by many, and upcoming projects like the collaboration album with Pete Rock will only maintain the flame. With that said, to the jizzing joy of those who masturbate to MPC noises, we recently went to the legendary HeadQCourterz (formerly known as D&D Studios) in Manhattan to hear the master craftsman share anecdoetes behind some of his all-time classics...

More here.

I didn't know it at the time, but DJ Premier affected my perspective of hip hop in a way that made me feel validated in listening to street stories. Between the ages of 12 and 14, I didn't want anything to do with hip hop music. I thought it was too vulgar, too arrogant, or too violent, and I couldn't identify with the words I heard. I was also quite resistant to what was considered "popular". In some ways, I suppose I still am. Nevertheless, most of my musical taste then involved jazz and r&b, not hip hop.

Then came the summer before my junior year in high school. My brother was visiting home during his time stationed at Fort Benning in Georgia. And when he brought all his stuff in the house, I noticed this grey padded case he used for carrying his CD collection. I jumped on it, and I spent an entire night picking through his music in the hopes of something interesting. Two of the albums in that case claimed me, ATLiens by OutKast and The Score by The Fugees. I commandeered them for more scrutiny, and they were heavily rotated!

So here I am, I'm 16 years old and I'm thinking to myself, "Alright. I'm not really into hip hop, but I like this two albums. I'll just listen to them." And for a long while, that's what I did. Nothing else in hip hop mattered for me except The Fugees or OutKast. I listened to those two records over and over, and practically learned every single word on both. In fact, I'm pretty sure I could crank out 60-70% of either one on the spot. Those albums are ingrained in my body for the rest of time, I can assure you.

So this is where DJ Premier came in.

The year was 1997 and Jay-z's album In My Lifetime, Vol. 1 was released a few months into my OutKast/Fugees binge. EVERYBODY had it. The first single "Who You Wit" had already been spinning on the radio for some time by then and in September we got hit with the second one, "(Always Be My) Sunshine." So Jay was everywhere, all the time; I couldn't stand it. Like I mentioned earlier, I couldn't identify with much of what artists like Jay were saying. I was much more attracted to emcees who composed with a more cosmopolitan sense of the world; emcees like Dre or Lauryn.

But then I heard "...A Million and One Questions...""

I think I first heard this at my boy Omarr's crib. My first response was that I loved it. My second was how much I hated myself for loving it so much. Jay wasn't saying anything that was relevant to my life. He was promoting such misogyny and materialism. All I can remember thinking is how regressive his lyrics would be for black society and that he wasn't doing anyone any good. And I didn't care. It made a twisted sort of sense to me. There was something about the way this track moved that felt completely organic, completely embodied. I couldn't take my ears off of it.

It took many years for me to realize why I had this response. It had nothing to do with Jay's lyrics, but everything to do with DJ Premier's production. It felt as if he had awakened in me a musical experience that had been dormant for years; it had always been there, Premio just unveiled it for me to enjoy. I was instantly intoxicated, I just didn't know to what. At that time I had no interest to know who produced the song, so my addiction had no name.

For a long while after that, I had similar responses to other Premier-produced tracks like Mos Def's "Mathematics", Nas' "Nas Is Like", and D'angelo's "Devil's Pie." (Go youtubing!) I had no idea who it was making these beats, I just knew I loved these songs. So the first time I even saw his name was when I finally decided to check out the liner notes for Common's Like Water For Chocolate album to figure out why "The 6th Sense" had become my favorite song from my favorite emcee of all time. And there is was, "...produced by DJ Premier."

There he's been all along, making some of the best hip hop records of all time.

peace.

Walta's Quickie Video Blog

Walta put this on my facebook page about a week ago and I'm just now getting to it. That gives you an idea of how much of a slacker I am.

Gil Scott Heron and Mos Def - "New York is Killing Me"

Everything about this makes me happy.

Until tomorrow!

peace.

Mos Def(initely)

When it's all said and done, Mos Def will be mentioned among figures such as Rakim, Q-Tip, KRS-One, and Kurtis Blow as one of the greatest hip hop artist in the history of the culture.

I can't tell you anything about Mos that you can't already find here. I've never met him so I don't know any inside "scoopage". Even if I did, I wouldn't put it on the internet!

However, what I can say is that I've been listening to this cat since I heard him on the Soundbombing II compilation album in 1999. He did two tracks on that album, "B-Boy Document 1999" with High and Mighty and Skillz, and "Next Universe" produced by Hi-Tek. I was particularly drawn to the former. I've always been a fan of posse cuts (hip hop tracks with more than two emcees). I imagine it's because I love debating about whose verse was the most inventive or impactful. Well on "B-Boy", Mos has the first verse after all the vamp-in material. He comes in:

It's on fire tonight

Everything on my side is lookin' alright

It's the high power original

B-boy traditional

Raw bass material

Crook-lyn indiviual

True brand imperial

You're hearin' on your stereo

Transcribe the live, the Mos Def initial

Sit back and listen

You ain't in no position

To deal with my conditional

Mentally and physical

Strength is indivisible

Crews be comin' pitiful

Speech be soundin' typical

Downfall eventual

Ock, I'm not FEELIN' YOU!!!

Well I never!!!

Mos writes verses that aren't simply a collage of punchlines for superficial effect. He builds them in layers, allowing each image to be propelled by the ones that came before, then landing with both feet on an unexpected epiphany of dopeness. And he does this with such ease and comfort that one could almost miss it. He's never overt, and he doesn't need to be.

Especially when he's doing stuff as fresh as this:

peace.

A Journey to the Broken Angel

As it progresses, any developing cultural or social movement invariably discovers its own identity through a variety of unique and distinguishing characteristics. Most of these developments include inventions and evolutions in apparel and fashion, language and lexicon, dietary patterns, musical styles, and so on. For me however, the most enduring, most compelling, and most tangible cultural symbols involve the landmarks and locations of pivotal and momentous events in a culture’s history.

There's nothing like being there; and it's just that. Being. There.

If you're a rock n' roll junkie, then it's The Dakota or the Riot House. If it's jazz that turns you on, there's nothing like the Cotton Club. For the gearheads of the world, the Bonneville Salt Flats or the Nürburgring is your Mecca. And political aficionados should never turn down a trip to The Watergate Hotel or Dealey Plaza. It's about seeing, touching, feeling it for ourselves or else it will only exist in theory.

Hip hop culture has a few of these places as well, like D&D Studios (although you ain't NEVER gettin' in there) or Rucker Park. And a few months ago I took the chance to visit what I feel is arguably the newest on the list of hip hop cultural landmarks, The Broken Angel.

It is one erie place.

The Broken Angel was the home of Cynthia and Arthur Wood from 1972 through 2006. It's located at the intersection of Downing Street and Quincy Street in the Clinton Hill neighborhood of Brooklyn, NY. Its legacy in hip hop history was cemented in 2004 when it became the backdrop of a concert/block party that was organized and hosted by Dave Chappelle, and documented by Michel Gondry in the 2006 film Dave Chappelle's Block Party. In the film, Cynthia and Arthur invite Dave and his camera crew into their home to show them the inner workings of the building. It's one of the most entertaining parts of the film as we witness the couple's compassionate, albeit slightly eccentric, quality and demeanor. Towards the end of the film, there's even a shot of Cynthia in the window of the Broken Angel waving a peace sign to the crowd, which I've always felt was one of the indelible images of solidarity in the movie.

So I'll leave it to you to look up more on Cynthia, Arthur, and the Broken Angel. This is the story of how I got there.

Mariana had to leave. The needle on her record player had broken and we needed to head over to J&R Audio by the WTC because that was the only place she thought we could pick up a new one. So by the time I reached her brownstone in Bedford-Stuyvesant she was perched on the stoop, demanding me to hurry my a$$ up because the bank was about to close. So I shuffled into her place to set down my bag, she locked the door, and we hustled our way to Fulton Street.

After handling her business at the bank and "politely" assisting a young lady find her destination on Fulton St., we got on the C train to Manhattan. We got off at Chambers Street a few blocks north of Ground Zero and made our way down to J&R, which is situated at what's essentially Park Row and Broadway.

Everything is huge in New York, including this audio store. It took us two or three tries to enter the correct section of the building, and even then we really didn't find it without help. And one would think an audio store in New York would and SHOULD have everything under the sun, but alas Mariana's needle was not in stock. So dejectedly, we exited the store and decided it was time to eat.

Now, Mari had a pregnant-woman's craving for cheese fries right about now, even though she hasn't had a boyfriend in a while. However, I would assume this is purely by choice because a woman as beautiful as Mariana can be in a relationship almost anytime she wants. I can only deduce all the men she's encountered recently have been woefully sub-par. C'mon NY...

She suggested we head to Madison Square Park to get burgers and cheese fries at a well-known spot called The Shake Shack. While standing in the quarter-mile long line (it moved fairly quickly, so don't be discouraged) we continued our usual discussions on all things hip hop. We're both huge fans of artists like The Roots, Black Star, Common, J Dilla, and Kanye West. And as we sat to enjoy our slightly overpriced but incredibly delicious burgers, our conversation shifted to Block Party. As is the nature of these exchanges, one thing led to another and we mutually agreed to seek out the location of this magnificent day in hip hop history. We finished our food, scared off the giant attack squirrels, and hopped back onto the subway.

We got off at the N/Q/R stop at DeKalb Avenue and opted to take the bus down Fulton towards Downing Street. It seemed we were on the bus for an unreasonably long time and we worried that we had missed our stop. So we got off somewhere between St. James Place and Grand Avenue to hoof it from there. We approached a huge laundromat with some cool-a$$ middle-aged cats hangin' outside and asked them if they knew the way to Downing Street. Personally, I was hoping we didn't get the same "politeness" that Mari had offered the young lady from earlier in the day. But they were truly friendly and pointed us in the right direction. We got to the block about 10 minutes later.

There are very few places in New York as quiet as the corner of Quincy and Downing in Brooklyn. It's one of those spots that seems to exist solely on its own; as if arriving there means departing the rest of the city. We walked up to the impressive red door of the Broken Angel, with the name of the building and the address adorning it in a grayish-white hue. There was very little traffic. I don't think we saw one car round the corner the whole time we were there. We read the sign on the bulletin board just to the right of the Angel's door and discovered Cynthia Wood had unfortunately passed away due to complications with cancer. We stood by the daycare center where Dave and the others had visited, using the roof as an observation area. We took turns imagining the stage and quoting unforgettable lines and verses from the documentary. We made sure to take some time making fun of Common's role in the show, because we've always been puzzled as to why he seemed only to serve as everybody's hype man. Weird...

I've often wondered if the people that live on that block are getting tired of folks showing up and doing that type of stuff. But in the moment, we didn't care about any of that. We were just a little late to the party, that's all. We wanted to have our fun, too.

We left just before the streetlights starting coming on and walked the almost-two miles back to Mari's apartment in Bed-Sty. We were glowing. We touched the history of our own culture, and it was a really good feeling. Somehow, we felt more firmly connected to the inspirations that have been fueling our lives for quite some time now. When we got back, we threw in Block Party and watched a bit of the concert footage. I suppose it was our way of "double-checking."

But really, there wasn't any need. We knew what it looked like.

Due to the fading light, these were the only pictures that were decent. We took these with Mari's iPhone.

peace.

A Sample

As this thing moves along, you will eventually realize that this blog is little more than an outlet for my somewhat uncontrollable addiction to youtube. I've spent HOURS over there. There was one night in Toronto where I watched the entire Star Wars trilogy in reverse (Jedi, Empire, New Hope) simply to calm my nerves. When Walta visited me during my spring break last year, we spent DAYS watching Ewan Mcgregor and Charley Boorman as they cycled (motorcycled, that is) their way from London to New York on Long Way Round. So it's safe to say I've wasted ample time and neglected many more important tasks because I was "'tubing."


So as I was basking in the glow of my newly born forum today, I began thinking about all the youtube videos I've wanted to share with my friends, family, and colleagues over the years. One that kept nagging me was this recreation of J Dilla's production for "Players" by Slum Village.

This is a very simple and extremely elegant demonstration of how hip hop is made; at least the instrumental aspect. For the uninitiated, J Dilla a.k.a. Jay Dee a.k.a. James Yancy was a hip hop producer from Detroit, MI. There are those in the hip hop community, including myself, who would consider J Dilla one of the greatest, most expressive, and most influential hip hop producers ever. His work included projects with numerous premier artists such as Busta Rhymes, Janet Jackson, Erykah Badu, Common, The Roots, A Tribe Called Quest and De La Soul. Sadly he passed away in 2006 of a blood disease called thrombotic thrombocytopenic purpura or TTP.

Whenever I come across videos like this, I try to imagine what kind of story could have possibly lead to the discovery and creation of what I know to be the final product. I wonder what it sounded like in the room, what sights and smells where among the observers and/or participants, what time of day, what season. It's well known that J Dilla's studio was in the basement of his mother's house. I envision the other two members of Slum Village, T3 and Baatin, arriving at Dilla's, perhaps around 4:30 in the afternoon, and walking in not through the front door but the kitchen or even the carport. I wonder if Dilla's mom cooked for them; maybe they even helped. I'm sure she was happy they were into something that was keeping them occupied and away from more unfortunate influences. Judging from the feel of Slum's music back then, it seems they had space to breathe and room to stretch in such an environment. They could easily be in their own skin.

Perhaps this is a little naive or utopic of me. But I like to think that at least some of this were true.

The other aspect I can't escape is how much musical knowledge these guys must have acquired throughout their experiences working together. There has always been a dismissal of hip hop music in regards to the usage of sampling. But consider how long it must have taken Dilla to discover this record, how many records he may have listened to before stumbling upon this song, even how many trips to record stores, thrift shops, and garage sales it took before he even had the physcial vinyl in his hand. The sheer dedication and persistence required to make this discovery, and the vision to shape the discovery into a such a brilliant piece of musical expression, is phenomenal.

In a 2004 interview on NPR's Fresh Air with Terry Gross, Mos Def (If you don't know who he is, don't worry. I'm sure we'll get to him soon.) had this to say about the practice of sampling:

It created connoisseurs. It created these young people who would become knowledgeable about music via the advent of sampling...I know guys with thousands of records from everywhere of every stripe and variation that you can imagine because they're all, as Afrika Bambaataa says, looking for the perfect beat wherever that may be. I've heard some of the most fantastic, exotic, obscure, amazing music in the basements and homes of hip hop producers.

You can hear the entire interview here.

I love these moments, these peeks behind the curtain. They continue to reinforce how imaginative and masterful these artists are and how difficult it is to be good at making hip hop music. These are marvelous times.

peace.