Soundtrack of my life

Hip Hop is the soundtrack of my life. We go back like pause-mix tapes and orange milk crates. And like Rakim say, “It’s been a long time…”

I heard rap music for the very first time in ’79. My mom was driving me over to grandmom’s house, about a mile from our crib. I lived in a little town in South Jersey, in the shadow of Atlantic City, which, itself, was in the shadow of Philly. You know how black folk do, aybody wanna be from somewhere else. The AM radio station – only black station on the dial at that time – threw on something that was so unique that the dj was like, “you have got to hear this”.

“A hip-hop-a-hibbie-to-the-hibbie… “ – yeah, nowadays those ten syllables are recognized the world over as the b-boy preamble, our “We da people…” if you will. But for me, chubby twelve year old kid in the backseat of the blue Chevy Impala, it was something entirely new.

Moms was perplexed. Her expression, undoubtedly like those of people all across the world was one which questioned, “Who are these fools talking over Chic’s Good Times?” I would not leave the car until the song was over. Which was a long time, cuz jams used to last like eight minutes back in the day. All of us burst out laughing when they got to the part when Wonder Mike got to the part dissing the food at his friends house (“… the macaroni’s soggy, the peas are all mushed and the chicken taste like wood”).

I had no idea at the time that hip hop was a whole culture, that for years there had been a thriving underground scene in the streets of New York that had given birth to crews of deejays, emcees, dancers and artists. I didn’t know that the group that had made this seminal record was not one of those crews, but rather a thrown-together trio, assembled by the shrewd Sylvia Robinson. I certainly didn’t know that Big Bank Hank, one of the rappers, had ‘bit’ his rhymes from Grandmaster Caz of the Cold Crush Brothers, right down to the spelling of his name (“the C-A-S-A -N-O-V-A…”). Nah. I knew none of that, but nonetheless I knew this was something special.


...


peace & blessings,

x.

"I'm on the Zoloft to keep from killing y'all." - Iron Mike

j/k..

i was 2 at the time, so my introduction came a little later...but i know what u mean.

so that puts me about a year younger than KRS, i guess, cuz he said that he was 22 back in '88?

peace & blessings,

x.

"I'm on the Zoloft to keep from killing y'all." - Iron Mike

....i can relate.

DOES ANYONE KNOW WHEN THE WATERSHOW IZ?
______________________________




look at the clouds they dance 4 me, i am your......

everytime i listen to Act II (Love Of My Life) off of TFA.


peace & blessings,

x.

"I'm on the Zoloft to keep from killing y'all." - Iron Mike

Quote of the month:

"Aw shaddap! Why don't you go back to the "Ugly Chat" and type to that girl you're too scared to meet in person!" ~Shake

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Push the box-Raise the envelope-Think Outside the bar!!!!!!!!!!!!
~*~*~*~*~*~**~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

word life
as long as my generation is alive true hiphop will never die
the fabo/chingy/nelly generation? ya'll niggas on your own

peace & blessings,

x.

"I'm on the Zoloft to keep from killing y'all." - Iron Mike

Wu-Tang is for da kids!-ODB
Where can I get a Wonder Woman outfit??

http://hometown.aol.com/msanngee76/

i dont really remember nothing about hiphop at all before maybe 1990.

i feel the same way as heads 5-10 years older than me, though im not as experienced with life or the music/culture as they are. but the same values and appreciation are there.





---

The wound, boo?

>i dont really remember nothing about hiphop at all before
>maybe 1990.
>
>i feel the same way as heads 5-10 years older than me,
>though im not as experienced with life or the music/culture
>as they are. but the same values and appreciation are there.
>
>
>
>
>
>---

I ran inside, eager to discuss my discovery with my uncle, Reg. He’s three years older than me, always has been much more like a big brother than an uncle. And he had every record known to mankind. R&B, Soul, Disco. So I ran in like I was putting him onto something.

As more and more of this music made its way to wax, Reg’s record store forays yielded an ever-increasing assortment of rap music. The pale blue record jacket with the multi-colored, Dr. Seussian spiral coming out of the middle – the unmistakeable trademark of a Sugarhill Records single, became a staple. It was a “brand” in modern day marketing parlance – you saw them colors you copped it. Sugarhill Gang. Funky Four Plus One. Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five. Sequence. But if ‘Rappers Delight’ was the big bang, the hip hop universe experienced its most dramatic expansion in those early days, with Sugarhill Records followed by all kinds of labels – Enjoy, Disco Fever, Profile… And Reg copped it all. He never had a desire to be a dj, he just loved music. And made sure he had it first.

The Early Days

Thanks to my uncle’s stacks of records (and my relentless sneaking into his room when he wasn’t there to make tapes when he wasn’t home), I was the man. I always had the flyest tapes, cuz I was devoted to my craft. I did the math, carefully calculatin’ how many jams I could cram on each side of a 60 minute purple Certron. Do I use the four-minute radio cut, or the eight-minute extended disco mix? Okay, That’s The Joint is gonna bat lead-off, because I love me some Funky Four Plus One. Gotta throw the Treacherous Three on there. Kids sweated me something fierce on my sixth grade class trip to New York – dope music evidently trumps ‘smart kid’ in the complex hierarchy of black youth’s social interactions. Consequently, I kept a hand close to the volume knob, milking the EverReady C’s on my box for all I was worth, knowing I was only the joint until the batteries ran out.


(btw, i'm writing this as i go along. so the editing is rough, and there'll prolly be some shit i hate, in retrospect). i'm just trying to map my personal history through hiphop, where the music been and where its going...



peace & blessings,

x.

"I'm on the Zoloft to keep from killing y'all." - Iron Mike

i was born in 1980...

significant difference in time, but i completely feel you on that.

**************
rS

"Only the educated are free." -- Epictetus

"The punishment we suffer if we refuse to take an interest in matters of government is to live under the government of worse men." -- Plato

peace & blessings,

x.

"I'm on the Zoloft to keep from killing y'all." - Iron Mike

Born 1980 myself.Didn't really hear much hip hop until 88,when an older cousin moved in,he played me KRS-one my philosophy.Had me saying 'I think very deeply',till my mom told me to knock it off.

outta wu-tang when it first dropped, in '93. his son was like, 2 years old, and running around saying "fukwitfukwitfukwitfukwit" and my aunt was babysitting him. she asked my cousin what her grandbaby was saying, and was pissed when she figured out he was repeating 'wu-tang clan ain't nothin' ta fuck with'.


peace & blessings,

x.

"I'm on the Zoloft to keep from killing y'all." - Iron Mike

peace & blessings,

x.

"I'm on the Zoloft to keep from killing y'all." - Iron Mike

Either way that's fucked up.I really wonder what makes someone wanna try crack.I never heard someone say it was good.The crackheads are walking reminders to not touch that shit.

w/ his scatter brain mama. (my aunt was takin care of him, but she passed a couple of years ago). so i can pretty much only pray that he comes up right. the child's mother is dilly.

peace & blessings,

x.

"I'm on the Zoloft to keep from killing y'all." - Iron Mike

peace & blessings,

x.

"I'm on the Zoloft to keep from killing y'all." - Iron Mike

i'm 37 and i refuse to be cynical about this music i love.

i'm tired of these 24 year old cats coming up to me taum' bout what's real and what's not real. hell, i've seen this music change so much since '79, nothing fazes me.

those lesson posts kill me too...WHAT WAS YOUR INTRODUCTION TO HIP HOP? uhh... RAPPERS DELIGHT!!! how can you explain to someone what it felt like to hear something like you've never heard before?

OLD SCHOOL. or 93, or 91. even the golden age was new school.

>i'm 37 and i refuse to be cynical about this music i love.
>
>i'm tired of these 24 year old cats coming up to me taum'
>bout what's real and what's not real. hell, i've seen this
>music change so much since '79, nothing fazes me.
>
>those lesson posts kill me too...WHAT WAS YOUR INTRODUCTION
>TO HIP HOP? uhh... RAPPERS DELIGHT!!! how can you explain to
>someone what it felt like to hear something like you've
>never heard before?

peace & blessings,

x.

"I'm on the Zoloft to keep from killing y'all." - Iron Mike

Wu-Tang asked, “Can it be that it was all so simple then?”, while waxing nostalgic on their 1993 debut album Enter The Wu-Tang (36 Chambers). Although they were only looking back toward the late eighties, truth be told, we can ask the same about hiphop as a whole. The most dominant and pervasive cultural force in the world today is one which few people, even those who fervently support it, truly understand.

Its easy, useful, and extremely tempting to confuse one aspect of the culture as its sum and total. For example, purists decry the common sin of elevating one of hiphop’s four elements over the others, as is done when we overemphasize rapping at the expense of b-boying (breakdancing), deejaying, and ‘writing’ (as graffiti practitioners refer to their art). What leads to more confusion and bad conclusions, however, is when we mistakenly believe the styles and aesthetics of one particular era of hiphop music are exclusively representative of the genre. I’ve certainly been guilty of that, myself, having had to come to terms with the fact that hip hop’s Golden Age (roughly from ’87-89’) which saw a tremendous burst of both musical creativity and political consciousness -- while it may have been a zenith -- was not the only valid phase of hip hop, and certainly did not encompass its full definition.




peace & blessings,

x.

"I'm on the Zoloft to keep from killing y'all." - Iron Mike

The first joints I memorized were Batterram and then Jam On It.
I could windmill, backspin, centipede, pretty much all the
regular b-boy moves.

But it didn't really hit me until I could buy my own tapes.
No big brother, no uncle, and mom's wasn't having it. Most
of the time she was rocking Studio One in the car.

But I got big enough to mow lawns, and before you know it....

But the truth of the matter, I was just into rap music and
breakdancing, not hip hop and b-boying. Even going back to NY
those early 80 summers I still had no idea what the rest of
the hip hop was all about.

It was only after meeting cats, reading up, studying the music,
listening to breaks that I began to understand what the whole
thing was about. You get a whole diff perspective when you see
how folks make the music, see how it gets promoted, and see
what people say they like and what they really like.

Q. How come they weren't playing instruments like everyone else?
A. They couldn't afford instruments and training, but they
could still make music.

Compared to other black music, hip hop had a whole set of new
rules and new ideas.

You ain't got no drums? Holla at this Billy Squire.
Can't sing but you got something you wanna say? get a mic.

But cats nowadays, they don't appreciate the very essence
of the what made it different and special in the 1st place.

They make it seem like basic bare bones hip hop is just a dumb
idea and is keeping people back.

mayn I dunno,
k. orr

>The first joints I memorized were Batterram and then Jam On
>It.

you remember the Wikka Rap (english dude came out on the beat to Jam On It?).


>I could windmill, backspin, centipede, pretty much all the
>regular b-boy moves.

i was only good for poppin' a lil bit (and on the east coast, 'popping' really meant electric boogaloo, waves and what not, not the shabbadoo/rerun ish).

i was too big to get down on the flo, on the flo'.

>But it didn't really hit me until I could buy my own tapes.
>No big brother, no uncle, and mom's wasn't having it. Most
>of the time she was rocking Studio One in the car.

feel for you. i'd have been in the same boat. if it wasn't for my uncle i'd have never heard some of the really obscure early hip hop. kurtis blow would make to the radio every now and then, but it wasn't until about 82 or 83 when power 99 came on the scene in philly, when you could really hear any hip hop on the radio. and then when lady b came out... it was on then. ninjas planned they weekend around Street Beat. (*start your tapes*).

>
>But I got big enough to mow lawns, and before you know
>it....

:-). old man rant. whassup w/ kids nowadays. be all kindsa overgrown lawns, unshoveled snow and what not. that paid for my first three boxes (an ill advised red 8 track purchase, and then two cassette players, which were the medium of choice on school bus trips and during layup lines on the bball team)

>
>But the truth of the matter, I was just into rap music and
>breakdancing, not hip hop and b-boying. Even going back to
>NY
>those early 80 summers I still had no idea what the rest of
>the hip hop was all about.


>It was only after meeting cats, reading up, studying the
>music,
>listening to breaks that I began to understand what the
>whole
>thing was about.

true indeed.

You get a whole diff perspective when you
>see
>how folks make the music, see how it gets promoted, and see
>what people say they like and what they really like.

word. going to college broadened my horizons considerably in that aspect. they were completely opened, though, when i was doing music reviews for ysb, and would get all kinds music shipped to me, and i saw what got played and what didn't.
>
>Q. How come they weren't playing instruments like everyone
>else?
>A. They couldn't afford instruments and training, but they
>could still make music.

yep. plus, this was an extension of disco. and parties. they took the turntables to new places because they wanted the party experience to be more and more fresh. and the intense competition led to innovation. (oh shit, free market hip hop). oh, y'all dj talks? we got a hype man? oh, y'all got chants, call and response? we gon harmonize. we got routines. and eventually, we got rhymes/emcees.
>
>Compared to other black music, hip hop had a whole set of
>new
>rules and new ideas.
>
>You ain't got no drums? Holla at this Billy Squire.
>Can't sing but you got something you wanna say? get a mic.


this gloria gaynor record is trash, except for 4 beats in the middle before the happy strings and shit come in? get two copies and run that back and forth.
>
>But cats nowadays, they don't appreciate the very essence
>of the what made it different and special in the 1st place.

they really need boot camp for this. and we definitely have to have an HHAT entrance test for folks that want to write about it.


>They make it seem like basic bare bones hip hop is just a
>dumb
>idea and is keeping people back.

for real.
>
>mayn I dunno,
>k. orr

peace & blessings,

x.

"I'm on the Zoloft to keep from killing y'all." - Iron Mike

-30-

Popeyes in the hood? That's damn near gentrification.

Hiphop is black culture on fast forward -- constantly morphing, adapting, reinventing itself -- so much so, that it even forgets about its own origins. My boys always used to say that hiphop years are like dog years, advancing at a 7 to 1 ratio to the outside world. Young heads be calling music from ’95 ‘old school’.

KRS, who along with Chuck D and Rakim presided over the aforementioned ‘Golden Age’ of hiphop said at the time, “no one’s from the old school cause rap as a whole/ isn’t even twenty years old”. And yet, he came on the scene and verbally ripped the crown from the self-proclaimed Kings of Rap, Run-DMC, who themselves ushered in what *was* the ‘new school’ in its day with the release of the sparse, yet brilliant, Sucker MC’s in 1983. That record stripped the showbiz veneer off of a developing musical artform trying to find its way, serving as a stark departure from what had come before it, toppling the likes of Grandmaster Melle Mel an ‘nem in the process.

It’s a cold and often predatory progression. In a matter of months, many artists have gone from the undisputed champions, ruling the ears of their peers, to has beens and forgot-abouts. Your record company screwed up and released your album six months late? Guess what, nobody likes those beats anymore. We hate those beats. Your rhyme style? That’s played out now, cuz. Come different or get to stepping.

In my mind, beats and rhymes trace the sonic strata of hiphop’s fossil records.


**edit -- extra question mark removed**

peace & blessings,

x.

"I'm on the Zoloft to keep from killing y'all." - Iron Mike

'here's your drama' and assorted ass fingery fare one expects from gd, but i'll throw it up all the same and see if it sticks around.

peace & blessings,

x.

"I'm on the Zoloft to keep from killing y'all." - Iron Mike

you got a 27 year old reminiscing like Pete Rock.

i'm writing this on GD on purpose, cuz i figure the pace will kickstart my creativity...

but y'all know that keeping a post up on this board is like herding kittens.


peace & blessings,

x.

"I'm on the Zoloft to keep from killing y'all." - Iron Mike

strata of hiphop’s fossil record(s): mega crews, kazoos, storytelling, studio bands, disco instro's, electronic, punk rock, tv theme songs, battle rhymes, dj cuts, love raps, message raps, reality rhymes, triple x-rated, booty music, slanging rhymes, consciousness raising, cautionary tales, bling bling, parodies, black nationalism, five percent pedagogy, jazz-hop, hip house, Linn drums, 808 bass, James Brown breaks, s-s-s-s-sample crazy, diss records, answer records, weed records, diggedy diggedy, reggae/rockers, rapid fire, slow drawl, g-funk…

We stay reinventing ourselves and casting off yesterday's styles like scuffed sneaks to keep ahead of the commodity curve -- it ain't fly no more when everybody else is up on it. Can't we have nothing just for US? We gon' drop it if it don't smell right no more. This has been the ethos in effect since the great murder, the supreme kidnapping. The masses of us have left Jazz, Blues, an tap dancing in the dumpster of the African American experience, to be picked up and raised by others, brothers and sisters having to go tour Europe an Asia where folks of different hues pack the venues.

Hiphop started out different, saying, "We will *kill* this culture before we let it be co-opted". And yet that is EXACTLY what has happened... Can’t stop. Won’t stop. We keep it movin’, like NWA, 100 Miles and runnin’. But years before they appeared the Last Poets told us that TIME was runnin and passin and runnin and passin and runnin, and maybe we ain’t as fast as we thought.

peace & blessings,

x.

"I'm on the Zoloft to keep from killing y'all." - Iron Mike

Can't we have nothing just for US? We gon' drop it if it don't smell right no more. This has been the ethos in effect since the great murder, the supreme kidnapping. The masses of us have left Jazz, Blues, an tap dancing in the dumpster of the African American experience, to be picked up and raised by others, brothers and sisters having to go tour Europe an Asia where folks of different hues pack the venues

This confuses me as now the same thing happening to hip hop now is the same thing that has happened to all forms of black music throughout the ages. Care to extrapolate mr tx?

>Can't we have nothing just for US? We gon' drop it if it
>don't smell right no more. This has been the ethos in effect
>since the great murder, the supreme kidnapping. The masses
>of us have left Jazz, Blues, an tap dancing in the dumpster
>of the African American experience, to be picked up and
>raised by others, brothers and sisters having to go tour
>Europe an Asia where folks of different hues pack the venues
>
>This confuses me as now the same thing happening to hip hop
>now is the same thing that has happened to all forms of
>black music throughout the ages.

its a pattern. because we're still colonized. everything we create is first denigrated by the larger society, than accepted/appreciated. then exploited. (maybe the exploitation comes after the denigration, and before the accepted/appreciated phase).

as a matter of fact, it goes like this:

denigration
exploitation
deniggration (co-optation, SEE: elvis, benny goodman, vanilla ice, beastie boys -- i'm not ready to throw eminem in that category yet)
appreciation (after its been deniggerized)

and we, basically, on the one hand have this drive to create and keep it moving. and, on the other hand, this resentment of when things get taken over and mainstreamed which makes us reject stuff once its played. (sometimes this is conscious, but mostly its not). but how many black folk be buying blues records? jazz? we tryin to get back, but really don't make up the primary consumers/audience anymore.

and, to a large extent, i think this has happened and continues to happen in hip hop.

keep in mind that i'm not saying that a white audience for black cultural creations is in and of itself a bad thing. but exploitation, co-option, and misappropriating the culture are.

i mean, especially in the light of gregory hines passing recently... when i was growing up, and before he came out on the national scene, when i thought of tap dancing, i thought of white folks on broadway w/ sequins and top hats.

i knew nothing of the nicholas brothers, bojangles robinson, the history of the art form, going back even to africa (sand dances, etc). i was blown away at that, cuz i thought it was some yt stuff. cuz we had ran from that so far and so long ago.

it took gregory hines, and savion on his heels, to bring this to our attention.






peace & blessings,

x.

"I'm on the Zoloft to keep from killing y'all." - Iron Mike

i told you before how i feel like an elder statesman in this whole realm, and i gotta agree with mikelove in that i refuse to let some youngster try and school me. i was doing this before most of these cats were born... my hip-hop snobbery is well earned, and justified. i hate to be on some "these kids today" ish, but... well, "right thurr". nuff said. that's not progress.

i grew up with hip-hop, and it grew up with me. i really don't want to see it go back to "rappin' duke" and whatnot...

but yeah, this post is taking me back to my dj daze, before there was speed control, and you had to blend with your finger and a radio shack mixer... *good times*.

that being said: ^up^.


******************************
******************************
doodle for sanity...

thinking paper or plastic (cutting up old record jacket liners to make your own slip mats).

>i told you before how i feel like an elder statesman in this
>whole realm, and i gotta agree with mikelove in that i
>refuse to let some youngster try and school me. i was doing
>this before most of these cats were born... my hip-hop
>snobbery is well earned, and justified.

i hate to be on some
>"these kids today" ish, but... well, "right thurr". nuff
>said.

man. really. i mean, really really.

that's not progress.
>
>i grew up with hip-hop, and it grew up with me. i really
>don't want to see it go back to "rappin' duke" and
>whatnot...

that's something i'm trying to capture in this piece, too. we had some unbelievably wack shit. the whole roxanne- period, when ninjas got ridiculi on the answer records (shante' and real roxanne was ok, but roxanne's father, roxanne's mother, roxanne's dog - no bullshit - it was ugly). that was prolly the worst phase of hip hop -- folks had pegged it for a gimmick and were milking it for all it was worth.


>
>but yeah, this post is taking me back to my dj daze, before
>there was speed control, and you had to blend with your
>finger and a radio shack mixer... *good times*.

there's a kool keith song on funk your head up, where he's reminiscing on the old days, "... and a two second break, that was hard to catch" and lining up the orange light on the old turntables.

people don't know about that. wasn't no track records. samplers. dat's. none of that shit. dj's could be going back to back for a long ass time on a little 2 second break that was the only good part of 8 minutes of bullshit from some disco record. and emcees just rocking over it.

grandmaster flash actually went to radio shack, bought the pieces parts, and INVENTED the cross fader. just hooked that shit up on his own cuz he thought he needed it. man.

>that being said: ^up^.
>
>
peace & blessings,

x.

"I'm on the Zoloft to keep from killing y'all." - Iron Mike

(i knew him, horatio... *joke*)

but as long as we're sharing...

like maybe about 10 others here on okp, "rappers delight" was my intro to hip hop too. heard it first on the radio in my moms '76 cutlass, on the way to school (i missed the bus that day). i thought it was chic, but what came after the familiar intro was instantly mind-blowing. those nonsensical rhymes changed music for a little kid from oklahoma; shit was never the same after that. i remember listening to the radio all day, waiting for it to come on from the beginnining, and holding a tape recorder to the speaker. after that, "play/pause/play" until i had the whole thing transcribed in my spiral... necessary, cuz we'd spit lines at lunch and argue about who had the best ones (i was a master g double e kinda kid myself). after that...

well, i *was* in oklahoma. not quite the cultural crossroads back then, if you know what i mean. if the radio didn't play it, i couldn't hear it, so i got a few snippets here & there, "space cowboy", "the message", "perfect beat", "apache". a little kurtis blow, with a lot of 80's rock & pop and prince and george clinton to fill in the gaps. rap was just rap. i liked it. it was all music to me, but then-

my mans, fat joe weeble webber, hit me with a tape. "d, listen to this..."

popped it into my clunky sony knock-off jawn, and heard: "two years ago, a friend of mine..." wow.

before "sucker mc's", rap was kinda corny. but these cats... they ushered in the "golden age" for me. they led in cool j, the beasties, utfo, the boogie boys, whodini, force md's, joeski love, slick rick, dougie fresh, shy-d, shan, kool moe, whistle, both roxannes, dana dane, krs, rakim, hell, even bobby jimmy. i even got to see most of them live and in color in okc. and it was beautiful.

as i type all of this in a figurative b-boy stance, i reminisce about these times; deejaying parties with weeble, tagging shit, manning the 808 at talent shows, seeing beat street and krush groove 20 times, ghostwriting for my boy, cheering on the lunch hour break crews... webber probably doesn't know this, but he tossed me head first into a culture. in a way, i've lived it, and loved it. it's mine, and it always will be.

i just hope nelly and chingy and the ilk don't fuck it all up.
this was waay too long, and i'm done now.

******************************
******************************
doodle for sanity...

an you was feeling it in the ok, like i was in nj. that speaks to the reach of the culture.

meantime, i'm way overdue on this and it has to be shipped to the publisher... don't even know how i'm gonna end it up.

will prolly end up as just an ol' school recollection.

when i really could write a whole book.



peace & blessings,

x.

"I'm on the Zoloft to keep from killing y'all." - Iron Mike

>(i knew him, horatio... *joke*)

no need for explain. i get those obscure references. (jokes for five people in the world).

>but as long as we're sharing...
>
>like maybe about 10 others here on okp, "rappers delight"
>was my intro to hip hop too. heard it first on the radio in
>my moms '76 cutlass,

not you in the cut'.

on the way to school (i missed the bus
>that day). i thought it was chic, but what came after the
>familiar intro was instantly mind-blowing. those nonsensical
>rhymes changed music for a little kid from oklahoma; shit
>was never the same after that. i remember listening to the
>radio all day, waiting for it to come on from the
>beginnining, and holding a tape recorder to the speaker.
>after that, "play/pause/play" until i had the whole thing
>transcribed in my spiral...

aww shit, you takin me back. an the tape recorders had the big chunky ass buttons that stopped with authority, like 'CLICK!'

but yeah, i was like a hip hop monk, too, transcribing all that nonsense. each hibbie, hip, and boogie.

necessary, cuz we'd spit lines
>at lunch and argue about who had the best ones (i was a
>master g double e kinda kid myself). after that...

dat ninja was the smoovest out of all of them. i give him props for that. wasn't nobody effin w/ Cowboy from furious 5 - i think he had the all time voice in hiphop. but master gee was the smoothest out of the sugarhill gang.


>well, i *was* in oklahoma. not quite the cultural crossroads
>back then, if you know what i mean. if the radio didn't play
>it, i couldn't hear it, so i got a few snippets here &
>there, "space cowboy", "the message", "perfect beat",
>"apache". a little kurtis blow, with a lot of 80's rock &
>pop and prince and george clinton to fill in the gaps. rap
>was just rap. i liked it. it was all music to me, but then-
>
>my mans, fat joe weeble webber, hit me with a tape. "d,
>listen to this..."
>
>popped it into my clunky sony knock-off jawn, and heard:
>"two years ago, a friend of mine..." wow.



>before "sucker mc's", rap was kinda corny. but these cats...
>they ushered in the "golden age" for me. they led in cool j,
>the beasties, utfo, the boogie boys, whodini, force md's,
>joeski love, slick rick, dougie fresh, shy-d, shan, kool
>moe, whistle, both roxannes, dana dane, krs, rakim, hell,
>even bobby jimmy. i even got to see most of them live and in
>color in okc. and it was beautiful.

word. remember the Fresh Fest? '84? WWFWT?

>as i type all of this in a figurative b-boy stance, i
>reminisce about these times; deejaying parties with weeble,
>tagging shit, manning the 808 at talent shows, seeing beat
>street and krush groove 20 times, ghostwriting for my boy,
>cheering on the lunch hour break crews... webber probably
>doesn't know this, but he tossed me head first into a
>culture. in a way, i've lived it, and loved it. it's mine,
>and it always will be.
>
>i just hope nelly and chingy and the ilk don't fuck it all
>up.

word. i think hiphop can survive them though. we got through the rappin duke. rob base. f*cking 'Turbo' or whoever that extra wack ni&&a was from SNAP. ("or i will atTACK/ and you don't want THAT") we can make it.


>this was waay too long, and i'm done now.
>
>******************************
>******************************
>doodle for sanity...

peace & blessings,

x.

"I'm on the Zoloft to keep from killing y'all." - Iron Mike

that song Fugitive, that was (still is) my shit.

cats can't get no love on these oldy stations. you can't tell me that folks that's checking for Luther and Anita Baker ain't feeling 5 Minutes of Funk and One Love.

peace & blessings,

x.

"I'm on the Zoloft to keep from killing y'all." - Iron Mike

DitDiddaDitDidda Didda

Five Minute of Funk is my shit. Love that cheesy synth riff

maybe one skippable joint on the whole disk, and that may just be my preference, but i actually bought that a few years ago.



peace & blessings,

x.

"I'm on the Zoloft to keep from killing y'all." - Iron Mike

i don't remember any 70s hip hop memories(i wasn't brought here until 1979), i only have 80s memories which are just as stellar.


thanks for this.

peace & blessings,

x.

"I'm on the Zoloft to keep from killing y'all." - Iron Mike

In its essence, hiphop is party music. Born in New York, during the seventies, it sprang to life from the efforts of Jamaican mobile deejays, like Kool Herc, who threw jams in the neighborhood parks of the South Bronx. These deejays would plug their massive, home-built stereo systems into power illegally tapped from the streetlights, spinning records for throngs of youth, competing amongst themselves to see who could throw the best party, who had the baddest sound system. While everyone else was decrying the sorry state of popular music (‘disco sucks, dude!’), these pioneers took what was needful, the best parts of records. I guess you could call it deconstruction. And hasn’t black music always been about the beat? Proto-hiphop was sound, broken down to its very last compound.

An eight-minute record of pure garbage, to the discerning ears of early deejays, might yield two or three seconds of a drum break – they would catch these breaks, maybe right before a bunch of overblown, overproduced strings and stuff came in to ruin the vibe – and go back and forth between two turntables with copies of the same record, using a ‘mixer’ to switch the output so that it came from the turntable of their choice. The result was something new. Call it musical chitlins an’ collards, as they fed the masses of party people with audible castoffs and scraps.

As the early deejays entertained crowds at parties, there was always an underlying sense of competition, a need to outperform all others (not to mention, a need to not get booed, stabbed or shot at). They’d talk to the crowd, over the microphone, encouraging people to dance and shout to show their appreciation. This early rapping would usually take the form of call and response, drawing on the ancient African mode of communal communication.

"Make some noise!" "if you wanna party, let me hear you Scream!", "to let me know that you like the show, somebody say Ho!", and similar exhortations were answered with enthusiasm when the deejaywas "rockin' the house."

Eventually, the call-and-response routines would grow more complex, involving boastful storytelling, creating the need for the separation of the rapping and deejaying duties. Soon, deejays had "crews" of several rappers, or MC's (emcees – Masters of Ceremony) as they became known, who initially shared the spotlight and later assumed roles of increasing importance in the New York party scene. These emcees would go on to develop unique lyrical and narrative styles, under the heat of intense competition with rival deejay groups. Grand Wizard Theodore, a deejay, and apprentice of sorts to Grandmaster Flash, noticed that moving the record back and forth while the needle was in place created interesting effects. His experimentation lead to the development of "scratching" -- the purely percussive elements of record manipulation. Flash took scratching and “cutting” (the insertion of small bits of music or sound from one record over another) to the levels of high art, making the turntable an instrument, something that poor kids could use in lieu of saxophones and trumpets to express their musical sensibilities, using prerecorded sounds as colors to be splashed on a pallete of beats. Again, all of these techniques were honed via competition during fierce ‘battles’, in which ‘hood fame and props went to the victor and shame and chagrin went to the loser. Call it free market hiphop.

I wasn’t at the park jams, separated by age and geography, but the sense of hiphop as party music and collaborative performance art, was transmitted palpably through the wax, as deejays across the northeast, at least, took notice that this was the music that the kids wanted to hear. Hiphop rocked the gyms and rec centers and kept us off the streets.

We’d have parties anywhere we could -- fresh kids, b-boys and b-girls staying hot in cold Jersey winters -- we was sweating, dancing to breakbeats in bomber jackets that we couldn’t put down if wanted to see ‘em again. In South Main St. school, an ocean of blue and black ski-hats bobbed up and down in unison, united in rhythm, as we did “The Smurf” to Tyrone Brunson’s classic instrumental. By the time ‘Buffalo Gals’ came on, Malcolm McLaren’s brit-synth grooves, providing a sonic platform for the rhyming and scratching of the World Famous Supreme Team, you had to push your way onto the floor and fight to stay there. I did most of my work near the strobe light, until I got a lil’ older and more confident in my dancing abilities (anything look fly in the strobe light).

The zenith of gymnasium jams was in the auditorium at St. Pete’s, the local Catholic school, which stood out in the middle of town like a run down castle clad in tan stucco. By this time, folks were past just spinning, as the techniques for rocking parties like they did in NYC began to disseminate through word of mouth, family reunions, and kids whose moms’ sent them away from the Big Apple to stay out of trouble. The deejay was playing doubles of ‘Nipple To The Bottle” by Grace Jones, going back and forth extending the intro. In retrospect, it wasn’t that hard a feat --she left a solid eight bars (measures) of beats empty, no vocals, no other instruments, just nasty beats. A bunch of brothas were up on the stage, jockeying for the mic, there was a crash and whoever was rappin’ at the time finished his rhyme with ‘… GodDAMN Moe C. jus’ broke the light!’ right on beat.

I think back and reflect on the irony that escaped me at the time, of hundreds of kids bumrushing 7-11 and WaWa after being let out of a P.A.L. (Police Athletic League) party. Call it wildin out, or maybe payback for enduring “One Student At A Time” signs during the daytime, but they got stung for every last tastykake and fruit punch.






peace & blessings,

x.

"I'm on the Zoloft to keep from killing y'all." - Iron Mike

this da truth....

UP...from a 29 yr old who remembers....

cuz my memories are indexed, affixed in time and in mind to music, in general, and to hiphop in specific. Freshman bball season was layup drills in musty gyms, clapping the backboards cuz we couldn't touch the rims, to Jazzy Sensation… “Can you feel it? Can you feel it, our jazzy sensatioooooonn”, the bass bouncing like basketballs off the walls, filling the whole spot with our attitude, makin every game a home game for us, the only black team in the league. You can look at us crazy and the referees can cheat, but we gonna be on beat, in maroon and white sweatsuits flicking finger rolls silky sweet. Junior Varsity was busrides in the dark, returning from night games, listening to Ronnie G’s Raptivity, trying to snuggle up with one of the cheerleaders in the back of the charter.

Later that year, I got a peek into the future while working backstage at the fashion show. Leo Harvey was running around with his new walkman, talkin’ bout “you have GOT to listen to this!” I knew it was something serious to distract us from the swimsuits, plus, we really ain’t like each other, so what’s so damn good on this tape?

“Boom – tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap… b-boom – tap-tap, boom tap… b-boom – tap-tap, boom tap…”




peace & blessings,

x.

"I'm on the Zoloft to keep from killing y'all." - Iron Mike

peace & blessings,

x.

"I'm on the Zoloft to keep from killing y'all." - Iron Mike

excellent post

till i have something else to add.


peace & blessings,

x.

"I'm on the Zoloft to keep from killing y'all." - Iron Mike

* *
let me tell you what she cryin fo......cuz i'm fly

up

peace & blessings,

x.

"I'm on the Zoloft to keep from killing y'all." - Iron Mike

peace & blessings,

x.

"I'm on the Zoloft to keep from killing y'all." - Iron Mike

peace & blessings,

x.

"I'm on the Zoloft to keep from killing y'all." - Iron Mike

peace & blessings,

x.

"I'm on the Zoloft to keep from killing y'all." - Iron Mike

***********************************

peace & blessings,

x.

"I'm on the Zoloft to keep from killing y'all." - Iron Mike

extension to 8pm. just finished my work shit. now i gotta tie up loose ends on this.

why do i do this to myself?


peace & blessings,

x.

"I'm on the Zoloft to keep from killing y'all." - Iron Mike

peace & blessings,

x.

"I'm on the Zoloft to keep from killing y'all." - Iron Mike

peace & blessings,

x.

"I'm on the Zoloft to keep from killing y'all." - Iron Mike

huh, ahuh-HUH-huh-huh.

old school noises is a lost art.

and ya KNOW that!!

peace & blessings,

x.

"I'm on the Zoloft to keep from killing y'all." - Iron Mike

peace & blessings,

x.

"I'm on the Zoloft to keep from killing y'all." - Iron Mike

peace & blessings,

x.

"I'm on the Zoloft to keep from killing y'all." - Iron Mike

peace & blessings,

x.

"I'm on the Zoloft to keep from killing y'all." - Iron Mike

peace & blessings,

x.

"I'm on the Zoloft to keep from killing y'all." - Iron Mike

peace & blessings,

x.

"I'm on the Zoloft to keep from killing y'all." - Iron Mike

that album, alas, will probably never be on k to tha izzaa. unless i find the wax next time i see my uncle.


peace & blessings,

x.

"I'm on the Zoloft to keep from killing y'all." - Iron Mike

peace & blessings,

x.

"I'm on the Zoloft to keep from killing y'all." - Iron Mike

peace & blessings,

x.

"I'm on the Zoloft to keep from killing y'all." - Iron Mike

peace & blessings,

x.

"I'm on the Zoloft to keep from killing y'all." - Iron Mike

peace & blessings,

x.

"I'm on the Zoloft to keep from killing y'all." - Iron Mike

peace & blessings,

x.

"I'm on the Zoloft to keep from killing y'all." - Iron Mike

peace & blessings,

x.

"I'm on the Zoloft to keep from killing y'all." - Iron Mike

peace & blessings,

x.

"I'm on the Zoloft to keep from killing y'all." - Iron Mike

peace & blessings,

x.

"I'm on the Zoloft to keep from killing y'all." - Iron Mike

peace & blessings,

x.

"I'm on the Zoloft to keep from killing y'all." - Iron Mike

peace & blessings,

x.

"I'm on the Zoloft to keep from killing y'all." - Iron Mike

peace & blessings,

x.

"I'm on the Zoloft to keep from killing y'all." - Iron Mike

peace & blessings,

x.

"I'm on the Zoloft to keep from killing y'all." - Iron Mike

peace & blessings,

x.

"I'm on the Zoloft to keep from killing y'all." - Iron Mike

intro grabbed your attention and signified the coming of the next shit. Rapper’s Delight featured cats rocking directly over the instrumental to Chic’s disco classic, Good Times. Led by Sugarhill’s sound, much of the backing of early rap music featured slick studio bands covering top dance or R&B hits, or at the least, lifting a bassline, and filling in from there. Cuts were so upbeat, it was like cats were celebrating getting on wax, and they were. Backpackers -- ascetic contemporary adherents of non-commercial hiphop -- would be loathe to admit it, but once folks figured out that they could get paid for doing something they loved, you best believe they were trying to get put on.

After the literal shock of the Sugarhill Gang’s record (many heads in New York thought that they were hearing Grandmaster Caz, his rhymes were so well known) subsided within the hiphop community, the fact that the public reception of this novelty fueled a market for more ‘rap stuff’ meant that real crews who’d put in work for years started getting signed and recording. But much like early blues musicians, their aunts and uncles on the black musical continuum, most of them were signed to exploitive contracts that did little for the artists beyond providing them the thrill of having a record pressed and maybe getting a little radio shine. These early rappers and deejays, however, maintained an optimism that they were on their way to stardom, and out of the ghetto.

As the Funky Four rapped on “That’s The Joint” in 1980,

“Let’s go to work, Let’s go to work/
we gave a lot of parties and we got jerked/
but that’s alright, because we be good sports/
cause we know someday we’ll get the big… payoff”.




peace & blessings,

x.

"I'm on the Zoloft to keep from killing y'all." - Iron Mike

1/81.


peace & blessings,

x.

"I'm on the Zoloft to keep from killing y'all." - Iron Mike

-30-

there goes the neighborhood

wasn't i?

peace & blessings,

x.

"I'm on the Zoloft to keep from killing y'all." - Iron Mike

.


æ ¦ æ ¦ æ ¦ æ ¦ æ ¦ æ ¦ æ ¦ æ ¦ æ
don't u know i'm loco?

I slept on Ghost's 2nd album.

place. (i'd dl'd a lot of the cuts from the eras mentioned in here, and i'm just playing all them joints. damn.

i need to compile a list or something.

peace & blessings,

x.

"I'm on the Zoloft to keep from killing y'all." - Iron Mike

If I know what ur talking about does that make me old? :-)

but just add a 'school' behind that and wear it as a badge of pride.




peace & blessings,

x.

"I'm on the Zoloft to keep from killing y'all." - Iron Mike

i'm older than you.

x, on the other hand... 1967!!!

lol

the is

peace & blessings,

x.

"I'm on the Zoloft to keep from killing y'all." - Iron Mike

we ageless here.

the is

I smell a beatin'!

the is

I'll bring it.

good read, dukes.

the is

Had to be when I went downstairs to the basement to my uncle's room and he was singin along to "Survival," by the Grandmaster on his black and gray Aiwa boom box. I forget which uncle it was but I was about 4 at the time and since the only word I could make out was "Survival," I just kept repeating it when the chorus part came out.

From then on, I wasn't really feelin' hip hop yet but I used to buy up hip hop records when I went out with my pop and some of my uncles to try to look cool( My pops the oldest of 8 and my uncles were of teenage years during the early-mid 80s). Man I used to love going into Sound of Upper Darby on 69th St. every week with my day,looking at those album covers was like an art gallery to me. I'll never forget seeing the Sugar Hill 12' album covers for the first time. To me it seemed like this new black otherworld where everything was fresh,new and automatically cool. I gotta make me a shirt with that Sugar Hill pic on it.

I don't know what did it to me one day but I just knew my ass wanted to hear some "Rock The Bells," and "Dear Yvette," so I consider LL's "Radio," the first album I bought because that's when I really got into hip hop from that point even if it really was the Run DMC S/T. I still have both albums and they're still in good condition. I took care of my shit when I was a kid,if you even put a scratch on one of my records or my toys,you'd finna catch a bad one to the back of the head. As an adult though, I'm not as careful as my things as I was as a kid,don't know why.

stores around my way. an in philly, sounds of market st. and funk-o-mart (was there ever a doper name)?


peace & blessings,

x.

"I'm on the Zoloft to keep from killing y'all." - Iron Mike

a little back ground for me....white kid, 7 years old in 1985 hears a track called "Walk This Way" on the local pop radio station....parents hated it, friends didn't like it, and my older siblings said they are ruining a perfectly good Aerosmith song.

i said fuck em...what do they know?

at age 7, begging my 17 y/o sister to buy me Raising Hell while she was buying the latest Poison cassette

it only grew from there...

run dmc, beastie boys, ll cool j, BDP, PE, and so on...through all the phases hip-hop took in those mid-late 80s.

around 90/91, i wanted to learn about "old school" hip hop. at Target, they used to have these Rap Masters cassettes for like $2.99. they were my first exposure to Sugar Hill, Treacherous 3, Funky 4 Plus 1 More, etc....

at this same time, i hit middle school and finally met people who also liked hip-hop. our love of music transcended color. it didn't matter i was white, i knew about hip-hop and that's all that mattered. tradin tapes with my boy Travis in math class...."you got the NWA?" "yeah, you got that new De La?" "yup, how about that Blacksheep?"

those were the days....i had more TDK and Memorex cassettes than i had meals in a year.....

i seriously can't remember a day in my life since i was 7 when i didn't listen to hip-hop, so yes, it truly is the soundtrack to my life

and Poetx, probably the best post i've seen on hiphops legacy, thank you

>a little back ground for me....white kid, 7 years old in
>1985 hears a track called "Walk This Way" on the local pop
>radio station....parents hated it, friends didn't like it,
>and my older siblings said they are ruining a perfectly good
>Aerosmith song.

i always thought they were ruining hip hop w/ that horrible aerosmith song. who knew? in retro, i think it was necessary, and definitely provided some energy and capital to the music that it needed to continue. the impact of all that energy, money and attention wasn't necessarily positive, but it is what it is, and the truth is that it did allow for the music's growth and continued existence.
>
>at age 7, begging my 17 y/o sister to buy me Raising Hell
>while she was buying the latest Poison cassette

ahh, raising hell was classic.

>it only grew from there...
>
>run dmc, beastie boys, ll cool j, BDP, PE, and so
>on...through all the phases hip-hop took in those mid-late
>80s.

that was a good time to be getting on board. things were really kinda weak for about a 2yr stretch before dbp, rakim, pe, an them came in.

>around 90/91, i wanted to learn about "old school" hip hop.
>at Target, they used to have these Rap Masters cassettes for
>like $2.99. they were my first exposure to Sugar Hill,
>Treacherous 3, Funky 4 Plus 1 More, etc....

hidden gems. i'm amazed at what i can find online. simply amazed. its a wonderful thing.

>at this same time, i hit middle school and finally met
>people who also liked hip-hop. our love of music transcended
>color. it didn't matter i was white, i knew about hip-hop
>and that's all that mattered. tradin tapes with my boy
>Travis in math class...."you got the NWA?" "yeah, you got
>that new De La?" "yup, how about that Blacksheep?"
>
>those were the days....i had more TDK and Memorex cassettes
>than i had meals in a year.....

never effed w/ memorex (wasn't trying to break the windows in the crib), but i loved me some TDK's.

>
>i seriously can't remember a day in my life since i was 7
>when i didn't listen to hip-hop, so yes, it truly is the
>soundtrack to my life

hey, that's the title. its good to see a lot of people feel that way.

>and Poetx, probably the best post i've seen on hiphops
>legacy, thank you

thanks a lot, i appreciate it.



peace & blessings,

x.

"I'm on the Zoloft to keep from killing y'all." - Iron Mike

in no particular order:

hearing "the bridge is over" in my uncles car in a jack n the box drive-thru

seeing the tape cover to ice-t's 'power' album in that same uncle's room

when my big brother came home with a dub of straight outta compton that we all got whooped later for listening to

showbiz and ag's runaway slave, the first tape i ever bought with my own money

my moms having the ill x-clan and pe collection

when my big brother bought bizarre ride II the pharcyde

when me and my man scott truong decided to start rhyming on the back of the bus

>in no particular order:
>
>hearing "the bridge is over" in my uncles car in a jack n
>the box drive-thru

yes. that was definitely one of those 'oh shit' records.

>seeing the tape cover to ice-t's 'power' album in that same
>uncle's room
>
>when my big brother came home with a dub of straight outta
>compton that we all got whooped later for listening to

lol. dayum. you done paid dues for hiphop, catching rap inspired asswhuppins.

>showbiz and ag's runaway slave, the first tape i ever bought
>with my own money

now that's a group that don't get the props they deserve.

>
>my moms having the ill x-clan and pe collection

she was on x-clan and pe? no wonder she whupped your ass for listening to NWA.

>when my big brother bought bizarre ride II the pharcyde

i need to cop that.

>when me and my man scott truong decided to start rhyming on
>the back of the bus

i don't know why, but backs of buses are conducive to rhyming. like lunchtables.



peace & blessings,

x.

"I'm on the Zoloft to keep from killing y'all." - Iron Mike

6pm (4hrs). but i got MAJOR work to do at the j-o.

i stay under pressure.


peace & blessings,

x.

"I'm on the Zoloft to keep from killing y'all." - Iron Mike

or as complete as its gon' git cuz i already pushed submit.

thanks to all of y'all for the kind words of encouragement, the feedback, and your own stories and insights. that's definitely been helpful to me.

the '-------' near the bottom third designates where i stopped editing and just started writing so that i could turn it in on time. so if its out of focus... oh well.


Echoes Of The Old School: The Roots Of Hip Hop

The Unification
---------------

Hip Hop is the soundtrack of my life. We go back like pause-mix tapes and orange milk crates. And like Rakim say, “It’s been a long time…”

I heard rap music for the very first time in ’79. My mom was driving me over to grandmom’s house, about a mile from our crib. I lived in a little town in South Jersey, in the shadow of Atlantic City, which, itself, was in the shadow of Philly. You know how black folk do, aybody wanna be from somewhere else. The AM radio station – only black station on the dial at that time – threw on something that was so unique that the dj was like, “you have got to hear this”.

“A hip-hop-a-hibbie-to-the-hibbie… “ – yeah, nowadays those ten syllables are recognized the world over as the b-boy preamble, our “We da people…” if you will. But for me, chubby twelve year-old kid in the backseat of the blue Chevy Impala, it was something entirely new.

Moms was perplexed. Her expression, no doubt shared by all radio listeners outside of New York and North Jersey, was one that questioned, “Who are these fools talking over Chic’s Good Times?” I would not leave the car until the song was over. Which was a long time, cuz jams used to last like eight minutes back in the day. We all burst out laughing when the song got to the part where Wonder Mike was dissing the food at his friends house (“… the macaroni’s soggy, the peas are all mushed and the chicken taste like wood”).

I had no idea at the time that there was a whole culture called hiphop, that for years the streets of New York had served as a womb which nurtured a thriving underground scene populated with crews of deejays, emcees, breakdancers and graffiti artists. “Rapper’s Delight” was the umbilicus, the thin but necessary connection between the insular environs of black and latino youth in NY and the unsuspecting world that their culture would be born into. I didn’t know that the group that had made this seminal record was not one of those locally legendary crews, but rather a thrown-together trio, assembled by the shrewd Sylvia Robinson to capitalize on what she saw as a potentially lucrative musical trend. I certainly didn’t know that Big Bank Hank, one of the Sugarhill Gang’s rappers, had ‘bit’ his rhymes from Grandmaster Caz of the Cold Crush Brothers, right down to the spelling of his name (“the C-A-S-A -N-O-V-A…”). Nah. I knew none of that, but nonetheless I did know that this was something special.

When the song was over, I ran inside, eager to discuss my discovery with my uncle, Reg. He’s three years older than me, always has been much more like a big brother than an uncle. And he had what seemed like every record known to mankind. R&B, Soul, Disco. So I ran in like I was putting him onto something.

As more and more of this music made its way to wax, Reg’s record store forays yielded an ever-increasing assortment of rap music. The pale blue record jacket with the multi-colored, Dr. Seussian spiral coming out of the middle – the unmistakeable trademark of a Sugarhill Records single, became a staple. It was a “brand” in modern day marketing parlance – you saw them colors you copped it. Sugarhill Gang. Funky Four Plus One. Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five. Sequence. But if ‘Rappers Delight’ was the big bang, the hiphop universe experienced its most dramatic expansion in those early days, with Sugarhill Records followed by all kinds of labels – Enjoy, Disco Fever, Profile… And Reg copped it all. He never had a desire to be a dj, he just loved music. And made sure he had it first.

The Old Kingdom
---------------

Thanks to my uncle’s stacks of records (and my relentless sneaking into his room to make tapes when he wasn’t home), I was the man. I always had the flyest tapes, cuz I was devoted to my craft. I did the math, carefully calculatin’ how many jams I could cram on each side of a 60 minute purple Certron. Do I use the four-minute radio cut, or the eight-minute extended disco mix? Okay, That’s The Joint is gonna bat lead-off, because I love me some Funky Four Plus One. Gotta throw the Treacherous Three on there. I remember kids sweated me something fierce on my sixth grade class trip to New York – dope music evidently trumps ‘smart kid’ in the complex hierarchy of young black kids’ social interactions. Consequently, on the bus ride I kept a hand close to the volume knob, milking the EverReady C cells on my box for all I was worth, knowing I was only the joint until the batteries ran out.

Wu-Tang asked, “Can it be that it was all so simple then?”, while waxing nostalgic on their 1993 debut album Enter The Wu-Tang (36 Chambers). Although they were only looking back toward the late eighties, truth be told, we can ask the same about hiphop as a whole. The most dominant and pervasive cultural force in the world today is one which few people, even those who fervently support it, truly understand.

Its easy, useful, and extremely tempting to confuse one aspect of the culture as its sum and total. For example, purists decry the common sin of elevating one of hiphop’s four elements over the others, as is done when we overemphasize rapping at the expense of b-boying (breakdancing), deejaying, and ‘writing’ (as graffiti practitioners refer to their art). What leads to more confusion and bad conclusions, however, is when we mistakenly believe the styles and aesthetics of one particular era of hiphop music are exclusively representative of the genre. I’ve certainly been guilty of that, myself, having had to come to terms with the fact that hip hop’s Golden Age (roughly from ’86-89’) **SNOOP: check that – what do other folks regard as the time period of the golden age?*** which saw a tremendous burst of both musical creativity and political consciousness -- while it may have been a zenith -- was not the only valid phase of hip hop, and certainly did not encompass its full definition.

Hiphop is black culture on fast forward -- constantly morphing, adapting, reinventing itself -- so much so, that it even forgets about its own origins. My boys always used to say that hiphop years are like dog years, advancing at a 7 to 1 ratio with the outside world. Young heads be calling music from ’95 ‘old school’.

KRS, who along with Chuck D and Rakim presided over the aforementioned ‘Golden Age’ of hiphop said at the time, “no one’s from the old school cause rap as a whole/ isn’t even twenty years old”. And yet, he came on the scene and verbally ripped the crown from the self-proclaimed Kings of Rap, Run-DMC, who themselves ushered in what was the ‘new school’ in its day with the release of the sparse, yet brilliant, Sucker MC’s in 1983. That record, which stripped the showbiz veneer off of a developing musical artform trying to find its way, was a stark departure from what had come before it, toppling the likes of Grandmaster Melle Mel an ‘nem in the process.

It’s a cold and often predatory progression. In a matter of months, many artists have gone from the undisputed champions, ruling the ears of their peers, to has-beens and forgot-abouts. Your record company screwed up and released your album six months late? Guess what, nobody likes those beats anymore. We hate those beats. Your rhyme style? That’s played out now, cuz. Come different or get to stepping.

In my mind, beats and rhymes trace the sonic strata of hiphop’s fossil record(s): mega crews, kazoos, storytelling, studio bands, disco instro's, electronic, punk rock, tv theme songs, battle rhymes, dj cuts, love raps, message raps, reality rhymes, triple x-rated, booty music, slanging rhymes, consciousness raising, cautionary tales, bling bling, parodies, black nationalism, five percent pedagogy, jazz-hop, hip house, Linn drums, 808 bass, James Brown breaks, s-s-s-s-sample crazy, diss records, answer records, weed records, diggedy-diggedy, reggae/rockers, rapid fire, slow drawl, g-funk…

We stay reinventing ourselves and casting off yesterday's styles like scuffed sneaks to keep ahead of the commodity curve -- it ain't fly no more when everybody else is up on it. Can't we have nothing just for US? We gon' drop it if it don't smell right no more. This has been the ethos in effect since the great murder, the supreme kidnapping. The masses of us have left Jazz, Blues, an tap dancing in the dumpster of the African American experience, to be picked up and raised by others, brothers and sisters having to go tour Europe an Asia where folks of different hues pack the venues.

Hiphop started out different, saying, "We will *kill* this culture before we let it be co-opted". And yet that is EXACTLY what has happened…Can’t stop. Won’t stop. We keep it movin’, like NWA, 100 Miles and runnin’. But years before they appeared the Last Poets told us that TIME was runnin and passin and runnin and passin and runnin, and maybe we ain’t as fast as we thought.

Ta-Seti (pre-history)
---------------------

In its essence, hiphop is party music. Born in New York, during the seventies, it sprang to life from the efforts of Jamaican mobile deejays, like Kool Herc, who threw jams in the neighborhood parks of the South Bronx. These deejays would plug their massive, home-built stereo systems into power illegally tapped from the streetlights, spinning records for throngs of youth, competing amongst themselves to see who could throw the best party, who had the baddest sound system. While everyone else was decrying the sorry state of popular music (‘disco sucks, dude!’), these pioneers took what was needful, the best parts of records. I guess you could call it deconstruction. And hasn’t black music always been about the beat? Proto-hiphop was sound, broken down to its very last compound.

An eight-minute record of pure garbage, to the discerning ears of early deejays, might yield two or three seconds of a drum break – they would catch these breaks, maybe right before a bunch of overblown, overproduced strings and stuff came in to ruin the vibe – and go back and forth between two turntables with copies of the same record, using a ‘mixer’ to switch the output so that it came from the turntable of their choice. The result was something new. Call it musical chitlins an’ collards, as they fed the masses of party people with audible castoffs and scraps.

As the early deejays entertained crowds at parties, there was always an underlying sense of competition, a need to out-perform all others (not to mention, a need to not get booed, stabbed or shot at). They’d talk to the crowd, over the microphone, encouraging people to dance and shout to show their appreciation. This early rapping would usually take the form of call and response, drawing on the ancient African mode of communal communication. It couldn’t help but do so, Hiphop is but an offshoot of the black cultural tree of life, whose gnarled roots wind and wend their way backward and forward through the rich soils of history, while encircling the globe, providing shade and solace for those of us in the diaspora. Like traditional African music, Spirituals, Blues, Jazz, Gospel, R&B, Reggae -- other cuttings and transplants from this tree – hiphop shares common traits, including improvisation, an emphasis on rhythm, and a pattern of "call and response."

"Make some noise!" "if you wanna party, let me hear you Scream!", "to let me know that you like the show, somebody say Ho!", and similar exhortations were answered with enthusiasm when the deejay was "rockin' the house."

Eventually, the call-and-response routines would grow more complex, involving boastful story-telling, creating the need for the separation of the rapping and deejaying duties. Soon, deejays had "crews" of several rappers, or MC's (emcees – Masters of Ceremony) as they became known, who initially shared the spotlight and later assumed roles of increasing importance in the New York party scene. These emcees would go on to develop unique lyrical and narrative styles, under the heat of intense competition with rival deejay groups. DJ Grand Wizard Theodore, an apprentice of sorts to Grandmaster Flash, noticed that moving the record back and forth while the needle was in place created interesting effects. His experimentation lead to the development of "scratching" -- the purely percussive elements of record manipulation. Flash took scratching and “cutting” (the insertion of small bits of music or sound from one record over another) to the levels of high art, making the turntable an instrument, something that poor kids could use in lieu of saxophones and trumpets to express their musical sensibilities, using prerecorded sounds as colors to be splashed on a pallete of beats. Again, all of these techniques were honed via competition during fierce ‘battles’, in which ‘hood fame and props went to the victor and shame and chagrin went to the loser. Call it free market music.

Separated by age and geography, I wasn’t physically at the park jams, but the sense of hiphop as party music and collaborative performance art was transmitted palpably through the wax, as deejays across the country took notice that this was the music that the kids wanted to hear. Hiphop rocked the gyms and rec centers and kept us off the streets.

We’d have parties anywhere we could -- fresh kids, b-boys and b-girls staying hot in cold Jersey winters -- we was sweating, dancing to breakbeats in bomber jackets that we couldn’t put down if wanted to see ‘em again. In South Main St. school, an ocean of blue and black ski-hats bobbed up and down in unison, united in rhythm, as we did “The Smurf” to Tyrone Brunson’s classic instrumental. By the time ‘Buffalo Gals’ came on, Malcolm McLaren’s brit-synth grooves, providing a sonic platform for the rhyming and scratching of the World Famous Supreme Team, you had to push your way onto the floor and fight to stay there. I did most of my work near the strobe light, until I got a lil’ older and more confident in my dancing abilities (anything look fly in the strobe light).

The zenith of gymnasium jams was in the auditorium at St. Pete’s, the local Catholic school, which stood out in the middle of town like a run down castle clad in tan stucco. By this time, folks were past just spinning, as the techniques for rocking parties like they did in NYC began to disseminate through word of mouth, family reunions, and kids whose moms’ sent them away from the Big Apple to stay out of trouble. The deejay was playing doubles of ‘Nipple To The Bottle” by Grace Jones, going back and forth extending the intro. In retrospect, it wasn’t that hard a feat --she left a solid eight bars (measures) of beats empty, no vocals, no other instruments, just nasty beats. It was only right to rip it. A bunch of brothas were up on the stage, jockeying for the mic, there was a crash and whoever was rappin’ at the time finished his rhyme with ‘… GodDAMN Moe C. jus’ broke the light!’ right on beat. That was hiphop.

As I reminisce, I ponder the ironies that escaped me at the time (well, apart from folks smokin' weed an cussing in church), of hundreds of kids bumrushing 7-11 and WaWa after being let out of a P.A.L. (Police Athletic League) party. Call it wildin out, or maybe payback for enduring “One Student At A Time” signs during the daytime, but they got stung for every last tastykake and fruit punch.

I bob my neck whenever I reflect and recollect, cuz my memories are indexed, affixed, in time and in mind to music, in general, and to hiphop in specific. Summer of ’82, after I graduated 8th grade, was spent bopping on the boardwalk with Reg and his boys. Nothing was flyer, to me, than hanging with the older kids, our whole crew taking turns lugging the huge box, leaned to one side, overcompensating for the weight of 12 D batteries worth of power, blasting out Grandmaster Flash and The Furious Five’s “The Message”. The bass reverberated off the boards, the sound smacked the sides of casinos and storefronts and bounced back.

The sound from the box was like a field around us, it attracted other kids who instantly connected with the culture, provided a shared point of reference as we tried to cop numbers from the out of town girls visiting the shore with the fam. It invited cold, alien stares from white folks, at least the older ones, who’d much preferred for our culture not to be imposed upon them via woofers, tweeters and peaking volume meters. Perhaps it gave them a glimpse of what it was like for us in their world.

Melle Mel’s vivid verbal assault cut through the languid summer sea air, broadcasting live, for the first time in rap, the harsh realities that underscored the party scene. A world of rats, roaches, economic deprivation and human predators that was all-too-commonplace for hiphop’s inventors. This was the reality awaiting the party people after they’d left “the place to be”. Was it faith or escapism that allowed them to throw their hands in the air like they “just don’t care”?

--------------------

The Message was pivotal. It put people on notice concerning the vast potential power of hiphop as a musical genre, and, implicitly of the largely black and latin youth responsible for its creation. That potential would largely lay dormant, however. Melle Mel would prove to be a rap Akhenaton, perceived largely as a heretic, albeit a powerful and influential one. Mel was the force behind Grandmaster Flash and The Furious Five recording that song, even over the objections of their Sugarhill management, who saw the fierce lyrical and sonic territory he carved out, the intrusion of reality upon this party music, as potentially damaging to their carefully cultivated image. It had to have been something he was waiting to do, since Mel actually kicked the last verse to “The Message” on “Superrapin”, their first recording, on Enjoy Records, before they bounced to what they thought were the greener pastures of Sugarhill. Ironically, the group would end up splitting due to label/money drama at Sylvia Robinson’s label, but over the next few years, between the two different incarnations of Grandmaster Flash & The Furious Five, they’d go on to record Survival, New York New York, and the anti-coke classic White Lines, which were similarly themed. But ‘message rap’, as such, didn’t really blow up until half a decade later with the arrival of Public Enemy and Boogie Down Productions.

As the Summer of ’82 ended, the Old Kingdom era of hiphop was coming to a close, but as ends of eras go, nobody was checking for it. For me, it was freshman bball season -- layup drills in musty gyms, clapping the backboards cuz we couldn't touch the rims, to Jazzy Sensation… “Can you feel it? Can you feel it? our jazzy sensatioooooonn”, the bass bouncing like basketballs off the walls, filling the whole spot with our attitude, makin every game a home game for us, the only black team in the league. Head nods an’ soul claps were the haps. Our swagger said “You can look at us crazy and the referees can cheat, but we gonna be on beat, in maroon and white sweatsuits flicking finger rolls silky sweet”.

Jazzy Sensation, from the Jazzy 5, exemplified Old School sensibilities: large crews, perfect for rocking parties. Several different voices, which had their place in the arrangement like instruments. Harmonizing. Chants, routines and hand claps. All of this was laid down over a track from a studio band, playing a groove popularized in the clubs (Gwen McCrae’s Funky Sensation, which got the disco do-over from Tina B and the Kryptic Crew’s A-side Manhattan Mix, and the bboy treatment from Jazzy J and the Jazzy 5’s B-side Bronx Mix). But large crews are hard to fit in studios, and hard to split a check wit’. And can you imagine radio playing a cut nowadays that runs almost ten minutes long? They’d only be able to fit in two strong songs before the commercial break. Ain’t happenin. A tilt was forthcoming, from groups designed to rock parties, to groups designed to rock records.

The End Of An Era
-----------------

Later that school year, I got a peek into the future while working backstage at the school fashion show. Leo Harvey was running around with his new walkman, talkin’ bout “you have GOT to listen to this!” I knew it was something serious to distract us from the swimsuits, plus, we really ain’t like each other, so what’s so damn good on this tape?

“Boom – tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap… b-boom – tap-tap, boom tap… b-boom – tap-tap, boom tap…”

If you were listening to hiphop at that time, the effect was universal -- that unmistakable bass drum and six snare-hit intro yoked you up by the neck, jacked your attention and signified the coming of the next. Rapper’s Delight featured cats rocking directly over the instrumental to Chic’s disco classic, Good Times. Led by Sugarhill’s carefully crafted sound, much of the backing of early rap music featured slick studio bands covering top dance or R&B hits, or at the least, lifting a bassline, and filling in from there. Cuts were so upbeat, it was like cats were celebrating getting on wax, and they were. Backpackers -- ascetic contemporary adherents of non-commercial hiphop -- would be loathe to admit it, but once folks figured out that they could get paid for doing something they loved, you best believe they were trying to get put on.

After the literal shock of the Sugarhill Gang’s record (many heads in New York thought that they were hearing Grandmaster Caz, his rhymes were so well known) subsided within the hiphop community, the fact that the public reception of this novelty fueled a market for more ‘rap stuff’ meant that real crews who’d put in work for years started getting signed and recording. But much like early blues musicians, their aunts and uncles on the black musical continuum, most of them were signed to exploitive contracts that did little for the artists beyond giving them the thrill of getting a record pressed and maybe getting a little radio shine. These early rappers and deejays, however, maintained an optimism that they were on their way to stardom, and out of the ghetto. As the Funky Four rapped on “That’s The Joint” in 1981, “Let’s go to work, Let’s go to work/ we gave a lot of parties and we got jerked/ but that’s alright, because we be good sports/ cause we know someday we’ll get the big… payoff”.

In contrast to the darkness of The Message’s track, Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five’s earliest releases, also on Sugarhill, made heavy use of kazoo’s (Freedom, The Birthday Party, etc). But Run-DMC, with that one record, Sucker MC’s, signaled a significant break from hiphop’s prehistory, as party music in the Bronx, from its Old School phase, in which the culture was unified and codified into high art, signifying the first New School era. The Old Schoolers’, with no one to come before them in the biz, adopted the trappings of other musicians (picture Afrikaa Bambataa and the Zulu Nation in spaced-out costumes not only reminiscent of, but contemporary with Parliament-Funkadelic, Earth, Wind & Fire, Con Funk Shun, and other R&B and Funk acts). Run, DMC and JamMaster Jay (R.I.P.) came with jeans and sneaks, staking out a place for hiphop culture, and the youth it represented, to be received on their own terms. Sonically, they brought the turntable even closer to the forefront, establishing it as the instrument, along with the drum machine, Jay, with his pervasive and precise eighth-note scratches was a percussionist and a conductor. Their rhymes, while still utilizing interplay between the two emcees (Busy Bee give-and-go as Ultramagnetic’s Kool Keith calls it), was more blunt, more direct. More street.

Of course, with the new styles and attitudes of Run-DMC, came a new wave of rap artists who more or less made themselves in Run-DMC’s likeness, up until they actually became ‘Old School’. Run an ‘nem brought flame and fame to the game, and the cash came soon after, with their Aerosmith crossover collabo. With that fame and money came corporate attention, and, eventually, a level of cultural commoditization as unprecedented as hiphop’s current pervasiveness. Still, it was necessary. Or at least unavoidable.

And for all its faults, hiphop still grows and spreads, throbs with the collective heartbeat of a people, its rough exterior hiding the concentric rings which tell the story of the years it has endured since it was planted in the Bronx, from seeds born across the Atlantic. It still sends branches out in all directions. Still has great potential to provide shelter, nourishment. But to truly understand this hiphop tree, you can’t just look at its branches, its bark, its fruits. No. To understand this thing called hiphop, you have to go to its source, its roots.


Poetx – 8/28/03













peace & blessings,

x.

"I'm on the Zoloft to keep from killing y'all." - Iron Mike

don't ur experiences pre-date hip~hop??? i mean, i'm just thinkin back to bein a wee lassie & hearin the grown folks' music

but ur life overall, i get that























¤he knew the dopes, the addicts, the pushers - everybody¤

(you see i retitled the piece). but its still the soundtrack of my life. 2/3, and counting, at least.

i have certainly been steeped in music. my earliest musical memories are of e, w & f, sittin in the basement of my parents house, playing the records and singing along to the words on the album jacket (love them for that), and playing the bongos.

pfunk certainly was a prominent influence, too. but i was a little dun. hiphop is most def the music what i most connect with. plus it channels and utilized all of that which preceded it.

for instance. i NEVER felt james brown by himself. the grownups would throw that on, i was out the room. i remember looking w/ distaste at them orange polygram labels.

but, once the dj's reduced brother james an the jb's to their essence, THEN i was feeling it. and now, i can listen to 'raw' james brown with deep appreciation.

(i guess gogo cats feel the same way -- and i never understood that about dc heads at first)


peace & blessings,

x.

"I'm on the Zoloft to keep from killing y'all." - Iron Mike

my brother and we listening to slick rick, bedtime story. i love that song till this day. but me and hiphop have since parted ways;he was a neglectful, cruel lover.

it a "he"). :-)

hiphop can be better. it promises.

peace & blessings,

x.

"I'm on the Zoloft to keep from killing y'all." - Iron Mike

suuuuuure.

"brrrrpphhhpppp--b-bhp-bhp-brrph-bhp... roxanne, roxanne!!!"


peace & blessings,

x.

"I'm on the Zoloft to keep from killing y'all." - Iron Mike

Rappin an Rockin The House - Funky Four Pluse One - kk rockwell, lil rodney cee, jazzy jeff, sha rock, keith keith, getting busy over an ill beat. i think this was their Enjoy release. i think this was groove from A Taste Of Honey. the studio band KILLED it. do the 'gigolo' to this. no chorus, but they go back and forth between 'solos' and routines. (79?)

That's The Joint - Funky Four Plus One - i think this is the first single by FF+1 on Sugarhill. their biggest hit, and classic record. notice how they play off of one another. i'm wondering now, if this is the first cut to have a chorus "ooooohhh, That's the JOINT!". the stutter snare right up before that is dope. ('80)

Do You Wanna Rock - Funky Four Plus One - (rocking over Frankie Beverly & Maze's "Before I Let Go" groove).also includes a little bob james. (?)

Sugarhill Gang - Rapper's Delight - you know what this is.

Superrappin - Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five - their first joint, on Enjoy records, before they left and went to sugarhill. if you pay attention, you'll here that Mel's verse contains rhymes that would be later used on the "The Message", one of the most important rap records of all time.

Freedom - Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five - i think this was their first joint on Sugarhill. kazoos an shit. party joint, for sure.

The Birthday Party - Flash an nem - another classic old school party jam. also has kazoos. really illustrates the call and response element. stuff to get people hyped and involved.

Christmas Rappin' - Kurtis Blow - funky bassline, smooth track complement Kurtis Blow's smooth voice and clear delivery. shit tha t cracks me up is "the grownups got some presents, too/ a new tv and stere-u". he was determined to rhyme that.

The Breaks - Kurtis Blow - one could argue that this preceded 'The Message' as a reality song. showcases kb's ability as a storyteller.

High Power Rap - Crash Crew - this is where the oft-used sample "an you say, New York City". this came out on Mike and Dave records. also, it used the same beat as Freedom, by Grandmaster Flash, which was a slight source of beef between the two crews when they were both on Sugarhill, but nothing major came from.


Live At The Ampitheatre - Double Trouble - off the wildstyle soundtrack. KK Rockwell and Lil' Rodney Cee (who'd split off from Funky Four Plus One). this is a dope example of the back and forth rhyme styles -- finishing each other's rhymes, routines, the 'Down By Law' track was dope.

Live At The Dixie - Cold Crush - wildstyle. same beat as Double Trouble rocked over, a little slowed down. they kill it, too. this is the joint where Grandmaster Caz dropped the famous 'yvette' rhyme (they changed the beat up for it).

"i was tearing shit up, about a quarter to three/
she said Caz, somebody's coming, i said, "Yeah, me!"/ "

Rockin It - Fearless Four - the beat was just incredible. you had to bounce to it.

It's Magic - Fearless Four - another dope party jam. DLB got one of them Cowboy-type voices (dude from Furious Five). i love this song.

On The Radio - Crash Crew - one of the dopest harmonizing cuts, featuring one of the legendary crews.

Breaking Bells - Crash Crew - i think this was the bob james mardi gras also. this was another one that would kill it at parties.


i've found all of the above on the net. thank god for compilation albums.

in general, if you search on the group names, you'll have better chances. or, if there was a famous album (wildstyle), that helps too.


peace & blessings,

x.

"I'm on the Zoloft to keep from killing y'all." - Iron Mike

above?

peace & blessings,

x.

"I'm on the Zoloft to keep from killing y'all." - Iron Mike

i think i frist got introduced to hip hop when i was listening to it with my older brother and watching dala soul on mtv and other artist.



R.I.P Simmon

next time a panhandler comes up to you asking for a dollor ask them if they have change for a $20 :)

aim:jkadetoye or jkadetoye2

up

see how it sounds? not at all unrational.

-30-

RBG

peace & blessings,

x.

"I'm on the Zoloft to keep from killing y'all." - Iron Mike

ha...
***********************************

Radio Shack echo chamber? 29.99

impact on hip hop sh*t talking? priceless.


peace & blessings,

x.

"I'm on the Zoloft to keep from killing y'all." - Iron Mike

up

up

******************************
******************************
doodle for sanity...

peace & blessings,

x.

"I'm on the Zoloft to keep from killing y'all." - Iron Mike

peace & blessings,

x.

"I'm on the Zoloft to keep from killing y'all." - Iron Mike

peace & blessings,

x.

"I'm on the Zoloft to keep from killing y'all." - Iron Mike

- there where times when i was sidetracked but i made it back. one of the sounds for the rest of my life.

peace & blessings,

x.

"I'm on the Zoloft to keep from killing y'all." - Iron Mike