December 31, 2006
December 30, 2006
"Crawbling"
FUEL TV brings you the latest action sports phenomenamanoanneaa, "Crawbling". You got the skills? the blue hair? the liquid diet? Then it's time to 'crawble'.
December 28, 2006
December 26, 2006
Closer To U - Trel Mack
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It’s time for the City of
December 20, 2006
An Intelligent Perspective
An article was written this week entitled “Critical Minded: Why Does Jeezy Get a Pass for Being Wack? By J-23 for Hiphopdx.com
These are my thoughts…
INTELLIGENTNEWZNET
INFORMING the HIP-HOP COMMUNITY
***My article is NOT about Young Jeezy!*** this build session attempts to answer the question posed in the 1st sentence of the original article, as well as other topics related to Hiphop’s turbulent life and supposed death…
“Since when did mediocrity become acceptable for emcees in hip-hop?”
An Intelligent Perspective…
This argument about mediocrity in hip-hop is not a new one, neither is the Northeast vs. the South lyrical "beef." Ironically, the East took the same position when the West Coast hip-hop scene popped-off. Think about it, this problem with "hip-hop has changed", “hip-hop is wack” or "hip-hop is dead" has only happened when some other city, coast, or quadrant other than
When the East Coast was the sole-controller of the hip-hop genre, while growing up in my hood I caught the same hell for criticizing Milk D's rhymes, my opinion was that his shit was mediocre, but I liked the overall song. Was it not the intellectual Ultramagnetic MC's who said "to the scientific matter I probe for evidence.../leaving melodies obtaining slight positive beams.../of the average formulation applied mechanically..." and dissed RUN-DMC for their apparent mediocrity by saying "they keep singing back and forth the same ole' rhythms../that a baby can pick-up and join right with'em.../their rhymes are pathetic.../they think they copasetic.../using nursery terms, at least not poetic...” Shit, Ced Gee said straight out "Say What…Peter Piper? …to hell with childish rhymes.../but this jam steady moving, the crowd is steady grooving.." What I am saying is that Hip-Hop is NOT dead! Hip-Hop has always had its "mediocre" rappers (Milk D amongst others), its gangstas (Just-Ice, Kool G Rap, etc.), political (PE, BDP, X-CLAN, PRT, etc.), party/dancing rappers (Kid-N-Play, Steezo, etc.), etc., etc. The only apparent difference I see in Hip-Hop is "CORPORATE AMERICA!"
Corporate America does NOT want to market an MC who's songs are geared towards the upward mobility of black-people when 75% of the music is purchased by white-kids who they claim/feel don't give a fuck about that, therefore PE, X-CLAN, PRT and others are, at best, a "turn-off" for white kids going out to the store and buying the music. This is why we no-longer have the balance of hip-hop opinions blaring through the radio-speakers or the BET/MTV video networks. CORPORATE
WISE INTELLIGENT
Proper
Education
Always
Counters
Exploitation
2007 is the year of Solutions and Success!
December 12, 2006
Hear what americans think about saddam and the war on iraq?
So what do you think?
If you took the time to watch take another moment to respond.
John Henry Radio Vol. 16 - Rhthym & Breez Edition
Available FREE now at johnhenryradio.com and I-tunes
Enjoy,
Breez
JHR 16 Playlist:
SOMETIMES from the "Mic and the Music" EP
Feat. Reggie Watts of Maktub
Prod. Eric Krasno
NO MO CRYIN –exclusive unreleased-
Feat. Faraji
Prod. Juggla
BORN –Homeboy of the week-
from the "End of the weak presents 3 KINGS" album
Feat. Sinclair & Ed Goldson
Prod. Belief
DAY BY DAY – blast from the past 1997-
Feat. Michael Crump
Prod. Cash-us Clay Mack
APPRECIATION –exclusive unreleased-
Feat. B. Falsetto
Prod. Oran Juice
GOD BLESS –exclusive unreleased-
Feat. Sinclair
Prod. Nonezeo & Sinclair
STREETS 2005 mix–unreleased exclusive-
Feat. Jannine V.
Prod. DJ Static
Next week's show will be another special edition of JHR celebrating another birthday for Breez Evahflowin. In the tradition of the old live shows I used to have every year on my birthday look for an all "HOMEBOYS" addition of JHR as I sit back and enjoy the music of my peers who've made me what I am today, for better or worse…
Ps
Check out riotcontrolnyc.com for some dope blends from one of my main production geniuses Burt fox
Pps
The "FLY" ep is finally available for download at I-tunes or purchase a hard copy at Cdbaby.com, they're kinda like "breez evahflowin starter kits" great x-mas gift!
http://www.myspace.com/breezevahflowin
http://www.johnhenryradio.com/
http://cdbaby.com/cd/breezevahflowin
Peace to all my peeps who've been there through many years and then some. It is with some sorrow that I present to you JHR16. We've just suffered a loss to our household recently. Our 13-year-old Lab, Lulabelle passed away last Thursday morning after struggling with seizures during the past month. We know that she's had a great long and wonderful doggy life, but it still saddens me to write this without her sitting in the corner scratching herself or outside barking at the other dogs around here. She was an amazing companion, she will be missed.
Hip-hop gets me amped, but some great vocals always have a soothing effect. This week is my little get-up-and-go/reflect-and-recognize mix of song and verse. I've had the privilege of working with many incredible singers over the years who've broadened my ideas for choruses and who've brought some incredible choruses along with them. I wish that all of these could've have received the exposure deserving of the contributors, but at least they've found their way to you.
Hip-hop gets me amped, but some great vocals always have a soothing effect. This week is my little get-up-and-go/reflect-and-recognize mix of song and verse. I've had the privilege of working with many incredible singers over the years who've broadened my ideas for choruses and who've brought some incredible choruses along with them. I wish that all of these could've have received the exposure deserving of the contributors, but at least they've found their way to you.
Enjoy,
Breez
JHR 16 Playlist:
SOMETIMES from the "Mic and the Music" EP
Feat. Reggie Watts of Maktub
Prod. Eric Krasno
NO MO CRYIN –exclusive unreleased-
Feat. Faraji
Prod. Juggla
BORN –Homeboy of the week-
from the "End of the weak presents 3 KINGS" album
Feat. Sinclair & Ed Goldson
Prod. Belief
DAY BY DAY – blast from the past 1997-
Feat. Michael Crump
Prod. Cash-us Clay Mack
APPRECIATION –exclusive unreleased-
Feat. B. Falsetto
Prod. Oran Juice
GOD BLESS –exclusive unreleased-
Feat. Sinclair
Prod. Nonezeo & Sinclair
STREETS 2005 mix–unreleased exclusive-
Feat. Jannine V.
Prod. DJ Static
Next week's show will be another special edition of JHR celebrating another birthday for Breez Evahflowin. In the tradition of the old live shows I used to have every year on my birthday look for an all "HOMEBOYS" addition of JHR as I sit back and enjoy the music of my peers who've made me what I am today, for better or worse…
Ps
Check out riotcontrolnyc.com for some dope blends from one of my main production geniuses Burt fox
Pps
The "FLY" ep is finally available for download at I-tunes or purchase a hard copy at Cdbaby.com, they're kinda like "breez evahflowin starter kits" great x-mas gift!
http://www.myspace.com/breezevahflowin
http://www.johnhenryradio.com/
http://cdbaby.com/cd/breezevahflowin
The Daily News is a disgrace-A response letter to their cover story on Assata Shakur By Hired Gun
The lead article and subsequent editorials surrounding the naming of the CCNY's student center after two convicted "felons" is in plain english a disgrace and disgusting. The slanted and very biased view that the paper chooses to uphold only discredits the paper and its writers as a legitimate news source. Sadly, the truth behind the case of Assata Shakur had more to do with a racist judicial system in New Jersey and the climate of fear and hate towards Black activists in the sixties and seventies. The facts still remain that as the various police organizations in the tri-state area spew their anger and hate towards their perception of a violent "criminal", even the most recent history of the department, as late as the mid nineties was one of violence, intolerance and blatant racism against blacks and latinos.It does not surprise me that in a country that was largely founded on policies of exclusion and subjugation; has a long running history of civil rights injustice, and genocide the discussion that should be goin on; regarding the New York City Police Department "accidentally" shooting
another innocent black man celebrating his soon to be marriage we are treated isn't happening. Instead we are treated to a thinly veiled protest of "reverse racism". How this institution's student center, one of several across the campus, which had this name since 1989 all of the sudden became an affront to the honor of benevolent policemen, is somewhat baffling. When human life is lost it is unfortunate, but sometimes the truth is hard to accept, and what the Daily News and shamefully what the rest of the country believe as truth is a bold face racist lie.
- Hired Gun
www.freeradicalzmusic.com
or freeradicalz(@)gmail.com
The Future - Gerald Walker
December 8, 2006
December 5, 2006
Lips Inc.
On a sleepy Sunday evening, a Brooklyn-bound L train lurches to a stop somewhere deep beneath the East River. Strangely, nobody in the last car seems to notice. Not the old ladies clutching shopping bags, not the preening hipsters wobbling in ill-fitting heels, not the starched family men on the way home from church. The packed train is too busy craning its collective neck toward a noise wafting from the middle of the car:
Boom-boom . . . ghat—tssst . . . boom-boo-boom . . . crack! Brooklyn! Bring that beat back!
Boom-boom . . . ghat—tssst . . . boom-boo-boom . . . crack!
Out of a huddle of swaying bodies, a nimble kid in high-top sneakers drifts into view, sputtering improvised rhymes over a heavy beat. His verses are forgettable—"Keepin' it real/You know the deal," etc.—but the musical backbeat is not. Its underlying thump and stutter-step rhythms tickle tired feet along the car's dirty floor. More than just curious, the crowd of onlookers are confused, their quizzical faces all asking the same thing: Where are the drums?
The drums seem to be near Kid Lucky. But upon closer inspection, it's suddenly clear that Kid Lucky is the drums. In fact, he and a couple of motormouths on either side compose an entire rhythm section. Passengers press close behind, and Lucky, feeding off the crowd, huffs and puffs a deep bassline using only his mouth. With loose lips flapping and Adam's apple bobbing, the barrel-chested beatboxer barks out a Fort Apache–style breakbeat, a favorite of the two B-boys in attendance. Decked out in tank tops, tube socks, and headbands, they breakdance in the limited space between the handrails. Shockwave, a lanky, blond-haired beatboxer in his late twenties, steps up to the cipher, seemingly frothing at the mouth. His muscular percussion buttresses Lucky's raspy turntable scratches, and together they give new meaning to the expression "say it, don't spray it." Lucky draws a hurried breath and eggs on the crowd, "Now clap your hands to the beat!"
Only 20 minutes earlier his crew had boarded the train at Eighth Avenue, kicking off the latest edition of the twice-monthly Subway Series, an informal gathering of homegrown beatboxers, B-boys, MCs, and their ilk. In the last year or so they've taken over entire subway cars for freestyle performances. The L is their line of choice tonight, and as it rolls eastward, the rear car sucks in one unsuspecting rider after another. With the train fully loaded and stuck in the tunnel, the beatboxers now face a large and captive audience, something they hadn't had in a long time.
An old-school hip-hop throwback to a time when, as the lyric goes, "shoelaces were fat and Michael Jackson was black," human beatboxing first emerged on the streets of New York City in the early '80s. Pioneers like Doug E. Fresh and Darren "Buffy" Robinson of the Fat Boys began mimicking the drum machines—or beat boxes—popular with DJs. Such high-tech equipment wasn't cheap, so a few enterprising loudmouths started vocalizing their own beats. A minor craze ensued, culminating in the Fat Boys' appearance on Live With Regis and Kathie Lee. Always somewhat of an oddity, beatboxing came to symbolize hip-hop's early invention and innocence. Its proponents once rivaled MCs for mic time, but when hip-hop rose to cultural prominence soon afterward, their mouths fell largely silent.
Beatboxing never really went away, of course—it just went (often literally) underground. And that's where it's thriving on this particular night, in the steamy subway car. The mood may be light and jovial, but the beatboxers have something to prove. They fret about being regarded as charmingly nostalgic at best, and hopelessly outdated at worst. DJs, MCs, breakdancers, and even graffiti writers have long enjoyed deity status as the four official elements of hip-hop. But the culture's outrageous success has somehow left the "fifth element" behind. Beatboxers' quest to regain cultural cachet is odd in terms of the venues they choose (poetry clubs and subway cars), their opponents in the battles they fight (VH1), the now famous former collaborators they sue (the Fresh Prince, for one), and the bizarre schemes they hatch to steal back the spotlight (one plot involves dolphins). Their art may look funny in person, but this is no joke.
Lucky and his ragtag crew have long seen themselves as latter-day John Henrys fight ing an increasingly mechanical and soulless music industry. "It's the human mouth beating technology at its own game," explains veteran beatboxer Baba Israel. "Laptops can break down, and I've been at shows where the DJ didn't show up or the turntable stopped working. So beatboxers are always saving the day." As the beatboxers take their turn in the stalled L-train cipher, their only foe now is the computerized conductor, occasionally interrupting with a polite but insistent "Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for your patience. We apologize for the delay."
Kid Lucky knows a thing or two about delays. Abandoned on the streets of Youngstown, Ohio, as a baby, Kid Lucky (Terry Lewis, according to his birth certificate) started off life pretty unlucky. "My whole youth was taken from me," he says. "I was at Children's Aid in Cleveland when I was five years old. Then at 13 this guy adopted me but couldn't handle it—he didn't want me, plain and simple." Lucky rattles off the names of more foster homes. "I got to a point where I was too old to be adopted, but was still a minor. At 15 I was put into a mental institution for the next three and a half years."
His powerful voice is quiet now. He's sitting on a low ottoman in his unkempt Crown Heights living room, carefully rolling a blunt. "I was always making music with my mouth as a young kid," he says. "It just kept me really happy, doing it when I was alone." Lucky leans back and slowly exhales. "One time I was put into solitary confinement, and while I was in a straitjacket, I was beatboxing. And they told me to shut up or they'd take away certain privileges. Make me wait, you know, hours before I would eat my next meal." His eyes squint at the memory. "But I just stayed on making that music despite all that, and when I got out of there, you know, it was a constant companion."
The cries of Lucky's baby boy, Psyence, ring out from another room. Dad tries a little cooing to calm him down, but can't resist adding just a hint of hip-hop to his lullaby. Convinced that Psyence is awake for good, Lucky raises the volume: Buddha—boom-boom—dap! Boom-boo-boom—dash! The beatboxer's black-rimmed spectacles vibrate in rhythm to his mouth's bursts of sound. Save for his lips and tongue, he's remarkably still as he loops the same rhythm of snare, kick drum, and hi-hat cymbal over and over again. To the neighboring tenants, the strange noises coming from apartment 4K must sound something like a syncopated demonstration of kitchen appliances, a five-piece combo featuring a grinding can opener, groaning trash compactor, flowing sink faucet, crackling skillet, and spring-loaded toaster. But to Psyence it's simply how Daddy talks.
"He wakes up every morning at 6 a.m., like clockwork," Lucky remarks with a grin. "I just hope Tarsha fed him." Tarsha is Lucky's wife of eight years, a social worker with a degree in psychiatry and, as Lucky freely admits, "the love of my life and a grounding force for me." Lucky was a dope dealer when they first met almost a decade ago at an Alphabet City needle exchange where Tarsha volunteered. "She's helped keep me on the straight and narrow," Lucky says. With the birth of Psyence she's taken to calling him Papa Lucky, and the nickname has stuck.
It's an apt moniker, since Lucky, 34, is a kind of father figure to the restless community that shares his skill. Numbering around 20, they rely on his upstart production company, Beatboxer Entertainment, to provide an outlet for their eccentric talent. Long marginalized, this new generation of beatboxers often comes across like the X-Men of comic-book lore—freaks with a special gift who are often misunderstood.
Masai Electro, a country-club cook in his mid-thirties, says even his own mother didn't get it at first. "I knew I had something different when my mom thought I was possessed by the devil 'cause of the voice. She really thought something was wrong—'That boy got the devil in him!'" he recalls, imitating her shrill cry. "She thought I was kinda crazy. Then fortunately, around the mid '80s beatboxing came around, and it gave me a format to turn my raw sounds into something constructive." His specialty is an uncanny rendition of the Knight Rider theme, complete with the whoor-whooorl sound of David Hasselhoff's car, KITT. When Electro busted it out at a recent show, the crowd first whooped, then fell all over the place cracking up.
That reaction poses a problem Electro and his mates have never quite solved: Their crowd-pleasing antics sometimes come off as corny. Several beatboxers confess to idolizing actor Michael Winslow, better known to the public as that guy from the Police Academy films who makes bizarre and hilarious noises with his mouth—not exactly the thuggish image preferred by today's rap industry. These guys are sensitive on this topic. So it's with some astonishment that I listen to Kid Lucky's latest idea for Beatboxer Entertainment. He's as excited as I've ever seen him. "Yo, are you kidding me?!" he exclaims. "I was trying to figure out what would be dope, you know, the most far-out thing we could do. And I remember watching Flipper a few years ago on TV and I had this idea. And, really, it's not so far- fetched . . . " He arches his eyebrows, relishing the suspense until he breaks down and bellows with laughter, his Yankees cap falling to the floor. "I believe that beatboxers could actually communicate with dolphins!"
He pauses to let this sink in.
"Yo, I'm not kidding! I mean, I was nervous about it being a joke, but the research is serious. Look at the way the dolphins' lips are, the mouth. . . . I'm sure there's stuff we can't do, but they—the Dolphin Research Center— actually got back to me." He catches his breath. "It could really happen." He proceeds to spit out the clicking noise of a dolphin.
Located in the Florida Keys, the Dolphin Research Center is one of the country's top institutes for marine mammal research. "I'll admit, when Terry first approached us, well, it was unusual," says Mary Stella, media relations coordinator for the DRC. "But he was so sincere, so nice, so . . . earnest that I took my notes and ran it by my staff. Bottom line, it's not harmful and he's so enthusiastic."
Stella cautions that the idea is still in the early stages, awaiting a formal research pro posal. But she seems genuinely interested. "I didn't know what beatboxing was until Terry explained it," she admits. "There's not a lot of beatboxing in country music, which is what I mostly listen to." She notes that the center has tried out music before. "We've had choral groups, a cellist, and I even think a didgeridoo player before, but this is unique. Terry said they believe in 'edutainment,' and we are the same way. Our dolphins are always curious." In fact, she mentions one in particular—Theresa, or T for short. "T is a totally goofy show-off, and has an unbelievable repertoire of sounds," she says.
Maybe Lucky's onto something here.
"On the surface, people will think it's a gimmick," he acknowledges. "But from 1978 to 1984 there was research about dolphins communicating using verbal sounds like vowels and consonants. And human beatboxers are essentially trained to do just that. Plus, I got a beatboxer down in D.C. who's a high school science teacher, ya know? So I was like, let's try it."
But not all beatboxers are interested in the call of the wild. The more conventional among their ranks have eked out a living on tour, often revving up a crowd for the bigger acts to follow. Perhaps the busiest mouth around is Rahzel, a/k/a the Godfather of Noyze, who gained notoriety in the mid '90s with Philadelphia hip-hop crew the Roots, wherein he was joined by Scratch, another beatboxer known for his signature turntable sound. Rahzel was one of the first to create vocal beats while singing lyrics simultaneously, and he went on to a modestly successful solo career. Kenny Muhammad, the "Human Orchestra," has carved out a niche, once donning a tux for a gig with the New York Philharmonic. And then there's that crazy Orthodox Jew whose percussive tics became an Internet phenomenon— Brooklyn's Matisyahu may be an international reggae star now, but he got his start as a beatboxer on the same bills as Lucky.
Lucky likes to point out that several a cappella vocal groups now also tout themselves as beatboxers. He mentions Björk's 2002 album Medúlla, constructed entirely of human vocals, beatboxers foremost among them. And he's got special affection for Justin Timberlake, who dabbles in the art briefly on both 2002's Justified and this year's FutureSex/LoveSounds. In the meantime, Lucky has made it his mission to track down all the old-school greats, guys like Biz Markie, Jock Box, Wise from Stetsa-sonic, and Doug E. Fresh. He's held court with most of them—the only major figure to elude him was Buffy from the Fat Boys, who died of a heart attack in 1995 at 28 years old and 450 pounds.
But there was one other legendary name who, though still very much alive, was particularly tough to draw out. "I finally found him just outside Philly," Lucky says. "In fact, I was the first in the beatbox community to get his contact info. Dude eventually called me back on Christmas Day."
Long before he moved to the Philadelphia suburbs, acquired a beautiful wife and four rambunctious kids, was born again through Jesus Christ, and sued boyhood-friend-turned-superstar Will Smith for $2.6 million, Clarence Holmes, now 38, was simply Ready Rock C, the human beatbox. "I was always ready," he explains. "To do what? Rock. What's the first initial in my name? C. That's how it came about: Ready Rock C. Ready to rock a beat!" He's yelling all this while reclining in a plush leather love seat on a recent afternoon in his duplex's spotless living room. Ready's personal website lists his favorite color as "all of them"; he's just as magnanimous in person.
Like most beatboxers, he discovered his unusual gift early in life. A shy kid from the black middle-class neighborhood of Wynne-field in West Philadelphia, Ready liked making funny noises with his mouth. One particular routine he became known for was the Sanford and Son television theme, but with a twist: He pretended he was underwater. "That came about, me just sitting home in the kitchen with a cup of juice or something," he recalls. "I was drinking at the time, blowing bubbles, you know? And then God inspired me. I just felt it in my spirit. Like, OK, that's cool, now lemme see you do it and make a beat." Ready tries to resurrect the tune, but he's nursing a nasty cold and only manages to cough out a few frustrated notes before giving up. Embarrassed, he scoots to the kitchen and grabs a box of Clorox disinfectant wipes.
Around the time Ready's big mouth evolved into a booming beatmaker, he met a lanky rapper with big ears who called himself the Fresh Prince. "We played basketball together, went to the arcades, put change together to buy burgers from McDonald's," Ready recalls of his new friend Will Smith. The young MC needed to build his reputation as a freestyler, and it helped to have a mobile percussionist like Ready Rock C to supply the beats. Hanging out in West Philly, they were always looking to test their skills against other crews. "I mean, we would literally pull up on guys," Ready remembers. "If we seen them bobbing their heads on the corner or in a B-boy stance and it looked like they was rapping, Will was like errr!!, pulling over, out of the car, kachutt!! 'Yo, you wanna battle?!' And we're going at it." The scene is captured on the beatbox classic "My Buddy":
up4 Tryin' to beat us, that doesn't make any sense
He's Ready Rock C, and I'm the Fresh Prince
In the rap industry we're ranked as first
Ain't a better combination in the whole universe!
up4 So if you wanna battle your future looks muddy
up4 'Cause you just can't beat my buddy
"That's when hip-hop was fun, you know?" Ready says. "You could just go head-to-head, display your craft to one another, and no one gets offended or pulls any guns." The duo eventually brought in local DJ Jeffrey Townes, and the rest was history. Unfortunately, Ready was largely left out of it—"My Buddy" appeared on 1988's wildly successful He's the DJ, I'm the Rapper, credited to DJ Jazzy Jeff and the Fresh Prince. Ready appears on a number of tracks from that album and claims to have conceived the idea for mega-hit "Parents Just Don't Understand." He says he didn't mind being left out of the group's name at first, because his beatboxing was often at the forefront. But over time the omission was telling. DJ Jazzy Jeff and the Fresh Prince went on to sell millions of records, winning rap's first Grammy in 1988. At the awards ceremony Ready was asked to sit out the group's performance onstage, and shortly thereafter was booted from the group altogether.
Ready blows his nose clear of mucus and spits in a small Styrofoam cup. "I mean, I was kept in the background. 'Cause to be honest, I was a threat, and Will wanted the spotlight all to himself." He creases his brow. "'My Buddy' was written by Will Smith and composed by myself. In spite of how Will Smith treated me in the long run, that's how I know he felt about me. That song was about our friendship."
It's a friendship that's grown acrimonious over the years. A few years ago Ready filed a lawsuit asking for back royalties he contends never came his way. The case went before federal court but was thrown out due to the statute of limitations. Ready shakes his head. "He promised me and lied to me all these years, which is why I waited. He's very smart and manipulative." (Through a PR rep, Will Smith declined to comment.)
Ready is wearing a white T-shirt emblazoned with his own "READY ROCK C" logo stretched over a pronounced paunch. He strokes his close-cut beard and sits forward in his seat. "See all of this?" he asks, gesturing with his brawny arms at the comfortable middle-class possessions that surround him. "None of this is Ready Rock C money. I worked hard, got an education, and made this through my IT company. Will hasn't done this—pulled himself up by his bootstraps, I mean." The burly beatboxer is a seesaw of emotions. "But I'm blessed— children clothed, roof over our head, meat in the fridge . . . " His voice fades out as his face tightens into a grimace. "Even though I pray for Will, I need my money. I need to get paid!" By now he's almost growling, but quickly laughs it off.
"Ready Rock C's a cat who got hurt," Lucky says. "No doubt." He's been trying to bring his childhood hero out of retirement for some time now. "But it's like he's trying to recoup all his lost dollars—crazy dol lars— at once. We can't do that, but we can give him a mic and a stage." At times like this Lucky seems more like a support group leader tending to his flock of bruised egos. He's bruised himself, but his optimism is infectious. "Here's the thing," he continues, clapping his hands together. "Why have we survived so long? Live shows! That's it. Our live shows are bangin'! I mean MCs just go back and forth, back and forth." Lucky mimics them swaying lazily from side to side. "But people are amazed and dazzled by our live shows. Cats are just bending and breaking notes all over the place—you'd think TV would wanna see that."
Sometimes TV does. A couple of months ago NBC approached Lucky's crew about participating in the next season of their hit reality show America's Got Talent. Andreas Thai-yan, Lucky's manager, says the beatboxers chewed it over but eventually turned NBC down. "The people who do these things are not taken seriously," he explains. "They're looked at as a novelty." Lucky concurs: "Some of the guys were worried about being pigeonholed. The issue of exploitation came up. Fact is, so much is going on now, we can afford to turn it down."
He's got a point. Despite their struggles in hip-hop, beatboxers are thriving elsewhere. They work fashion shows, peddle their own line of ringtones, and have inked promotional deals with everyone from Google to Verizon. "I like authenticity and originality, and beatboxers can really make the crowd go crazy," says Matt Herron, executive producer of MTV Networks, who hired Beatboxer Entertainment a few months ago. "We used them for an e-mail blast and an advertising upfront. They just had that certain . . . something." Thai-yan thinks he knows what that something might be: "Honestly, it's very nonthreatening. Hip-hop without the dirty words; just dope music that draws you in."
But it doesn't draw everyone. Though MTV showed them some love, sister network VH1 failed to do the same during its third annual Hip-Hop Honors Week in October. Sponsored by Mayor Bloomberg, this year's event was a citywide celebration of all the elements: rapping, DJ'ing, graf writing, and breakdancing. All but one, that is. Beatboxing was conspicuously absent. Martha Diaz, a leader of the grassroots Hip-Hop Association and a friend of Beatboxer Entertainment, says VH1 had pledged to work with them but later "brushed us off. They made promises and then reneged. Sad to say, I'm really not that surprised."
Neither is Lucky. "Do we get respect?" he asks. "No, we don't. VH1, they may not be giving the culture its own shine like the others, but at some point they're gonna have to. They're just ill-informed right now. I'll take the 'I told you so!' down the road, ya know what I'm sayin'?"
"Our decision of what to put on the calendar for the week was based on good old-fashioned research of what was going on 'hip-hop-wise,' " counters VH1's Wendy Weatherford, the station's VP of consumer and music marketing, in an e-mail. "As far as the celebrity talent involved in HHH Week is concerned, we tried to book talent that was also involved in the [televised awards] show. Actually, our Celebrity Basketball game on Sunday was hosted by the original human beat box, Dougie Fresh."
True, but in all the promotional materials for Hip-Hop Honors, not once was Doug E. Fresh billed as the "original human beatbox." Instead he was one of many "celebrity MCs." A pedantic quibble, perhaps, but a significant one. As hip-hop officially becomes History —enshrined in the Smithsonian and canonized by tastemakers at VH1 —will beatboxers ever get their proper due? The irrepressible Kid Lucky takes the long view. "'No' doesn't mean 'never,' it just means 'not now,' " he believes. "You gotta pick your battles. Besides, history books can be rewritten."
Maybe if spurned long enough, beatboxers will decide they don't need hip-hop at all. Or other human beings, for that matter. The last time I speak to Lucky, all he can talk about are his dolphins. "This is like some Nobel Prize shit!" he cries. "I'm very proud of this. I mean, I didn't go to college like a lot of people. After you've been locked up in a small room for most of your adolescence, done the 'Yes sir, no sir' thing in the military, been homeless, sold drugs . . . " His voice trails off. "Yeah, this is big."
Back on the sweaty L train—still jammed but now jamming in the tunnel—the smiles are as bountiful and organic as the beats. For just this moment, the beatboxers have everyone's attention. Then the robotic voice cuts in once more: "Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for your patience. We apologize for the delay. We will be moving shortly." In the space of four kicks, two snares, and six lip smacks, the train rumbles to life and rolls toward Brooklyn.
This piece is dedicated to Ellen Willis.
Boom-boom . . . ghat—tssst . . . boom-boo-boom . . . crack! Brooklyn! Bring that beat back!
Boom-boom . . . ghat—tssst . . . boom-boo-boom . . . crack!
Out of a huddle of swaying bodies, a nimble kid in high-top sneakers drifts into view, sputtering improvised rhymes over a heavy beat. His verses are forgettable—"Keepin' it real/You know the deal," etc.—but the musical backbeat is not. Its underlying thump and stutter-step rhythms tickle tired feet along the car's dirty floor. More than just curious, the crowd of onlookers are confused, their quizzical faces all asking the same thing: Where are the drums?
The drums seem to be near Kid Lucky. But upon closer inspection, it's suddenly clear that Kid Lucky is the drums. In fact, he and a couple of motormouths on either side compose an entire rhythm section. Passengers press close behind, and Lucky, feeding off the crowd, huffs and puffs a deep bassline using only his mouth. With loose lips flapping and Adam's apple bobbing, the barrel-chested beatboxer barks out a Fort Apache–style breakbeat, a favorite of the two B-boys in attendance. Decked out in tank tops, tube socks, and headbands, they breakdance in the limited space between the handrails. Shockwave, a lanky, blond-haired beatboxer in his late twenties, steps up to the cipher, seemingly frothing at the mouth. His muscular percussion buttresses Lucky's raspy turntable scratches, and together they give new meaning to the expression "say it, don't spray it." Lucky draws a hurried breath and eggs on the crowd, "Now clap your hands to the beat!"
Only 20 minutes earlier his crew had boarded the train at Eighth Avenue, kicking off the latest edition of the twice-monthly Subway Series, an informal gathering of homegrown beatboxers, B-boys, MCs, and their ilk. In the last year or so they've taken over entire subway cars for freestyle performances. The L is their line of choice tonight, and as it rolls eastward, the rear car sucks in one unsuspecting rider after another. With the train fully loaded and stuck in the tunnel, the beatboxers now face a large and captive audience, something they hadn't had in a long time.
An old-school hip-hop throwback to a time when, as the lyric goes, "shoelaces were fat and Michael Jackson was black," human beatboxing first emerged on the streets of New York City in the early '80s. Pioneers like Doug E. Fresh and Darren "Buffy" Robinson of the Fat Boys began mimicking the drum machines—or beat boxes—popular with DJs. Such high-tech equipment wasn't cheap, so a few enterprising loudmouths started vocalizing their own beats. A minor craze ensued, culminating in the Fat Boys' appearance on Live With Regis and Kathie Lee. Always somewhat of an oddity, beatboxing came to symbolize hip-hop's early invention and innocence. Its proponents once rivaled MCs for mic time, but when hip-hop rose to cultural prominence soon afterward, their mouths fell largely silent.
Beatboxing never really went away, of course—it just went (often literally) underground. And that's where it's thriving on this particular night, in the steamy subway car. The mood may be light and jovial, but the beatboxers have something to prove. They fret about being regarded as charmingly nostalgic at best, and hopelessly outdated at worst. DJs, MCs, breakdancers, and even graffiti writers have long enjoyed deity status as the four official elements of hip-hop. But the culture's outrageous success has somehow left the "fifth element" behind. Beatboxers' quest to regain cultural cachet is odd in terms of the venues they choose (poetry clubs and subway cars), their opponents in the battles they fight (VH1), the now famous former collaborators they sue (the Fresh Prince, for one), and the bizarre schemes they hatch to steal back the spotlight (one plot involves dolphins). Their art may look funny in person, but this is no joke.
Lucky and his ragtag crew have long seen themselves as latter-day John Henrys fight ing an increasingly mechanical and soulless music industry. "It's the human mouth beating technology at its own game," explains veteran beatboxer Baba Israel. "Laptops can break down, and I've been at shows where the DJ didn't show up or the turntable stopped working. So beatboxers are always saving the day." As the beatboxers take their turn in the stalled L-train cipher, their only foe now is the computerized conductor, occasionally interrupting with a polite but insistent "Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for your patience. We apologize for the delay."
Kid Lucky knows a thing or two about delays. Abandoned on the streets of Youngstown, Ohio, as a baby, Kid Lucky (Terry Lewis, according to his birth certificate) started off life pretty unlucky. "My whole youth was taken from me," he says. "I was at Children's Aid in Cleveland when I was five years old. Then at 13 this guy adopted me but couldn't handle it—he didn't want me, plain and simple." Lucky rattles off the names of more foster homes. "I got to a point where I was too old to be adopted, but was still a minor. At 15 I was put into a mental institution for the next three and a half years."
His powerful voice is quiet now. He's sitting on a low ottoman in his unkempt Crown Heights living room, carefully rolling a blunt. "I was always making music with my mouth as a young kid," he says. "It just kept me really happy, doing it when I was alone." Lucky leans back and slowly exhales. "One time I was put into solitary confinement, and while I was in a straitjacket, I was beatboxing. And they told me to shut up or they'd take away certain privileges. Make me wait, you know, hours before I would eat my next meal." His eyes squint at the memory. "But I just stayed on making that music despite all that, and when I got out of there, you know, it was a constant companion."
The cries of Lucky's baby boy, Psyence, ring out from another room. Dad tries a little cooing to calm him down, but can't resist adding just a hint of hip-hop to his lullaby. Convinced that Psyence is awake for good, Lucky raises the volume: Buddha—boom-boom—dap! Boom-boo-boom—dash! The beatboxer's black-rimmed spectacles vibrate in rhythm to his mouth's bursts of sound. Save for his lips and tongue, he's remarkably still as he loops the same rhythm of snare, kick drum, and hi-hat cymbal over and over again. To the neighboring tenants, the strange noises coming from apartment 4K must sound something like a syncopated demonstration of kitchen appliances, a five-piece combo featuring a grinding can opener, groaning trash compactor, flowing sink faucet, crackling skillet, and spring-loaded toaster. But to Psyence it's simply how Daddy talks.
"He wakes up every morning at 6 a.m., like clockwork," Lucky remarks with a grin. "I just hope Tarsha fed him." Tarsha is Lucky's wife of eight years, a social worker with a degree in psychiatry and, as Lucky freely admits, "the love of my life and a grounding force for me." Lucky was a dope dealer when they first met almost a decade ago at an Alphabet City needle exchange where Tarsha volunteered. "She's helped keep me on the straight and narrow," Lucky says. With the birth of Psyence she's taken to calling him Papa Lucky, and the nickname has stuck.
It's an apt moniker, since Lucky, 34, is a kind of father figure to the restless community that shares his skill. Numbering around 20, they rely on his upstart production company, Beatboxer Entertainment, to provide an outlet for their eccentric talent. Long marginalized, this new generation of beatboxers often comes across like the X-Men of comic-book lore—freaks with a special gift who are often misunderstood.
Masai Electro, a country-club cook in his mid-thirties, says even his own mother didn't get it at first. "I knew I had something different when my mom thought I was possessed by the devil 'cause of the voice. She really thought something was wrong—'That boy got the devil in him!'" he recalls, imitating her shrill cry. "She thought I was kinda crazy. Then fortunately, around the mid '80s beatboxing came around, and it gave me a format to turn my raw sounds into something constructive." His specialty is an uncanny rendition of the Knight Rider theme, complete with the whoor-whooorl sound of David Hasselhoff's car, KITT. When Electro busted it out at a recent show, the crowd first whooped, then fell all over the place cracking up.
That reaction poses a problem Electro and his mates have never quite solved: Their crowd-pleasing antics sometimes come off as corny. Several beatboxers confess to idolizing actor Michael Winslow, better known to the public as that guy from the Police Academy films who makes bizarre and hilarious noises with his mouth—not exactly the thuggish image preferred by today's rap industry. These guys are sensitive on this topic. So it's with some astonishment that I listen to Kid Lucky's latest idea for Beatboxer Entertainment. He's as excited as I've ever seen him. "Yo, are you kidding me?!" he exclaims. "I was trying to figure out what would be dope, you know, the most far-out thing we could do. And I remember watching Flipper a few years ago on TV and I had this idea. And, really, it's not so far- fetched . . . " He arches his eyebrows, relishing the suspense until he breaks down and bellows with laughter, his Yankees cap falling to the floor. "I believe that beatboxers could actually communicate with dolphins!"
He pauses to let this sink in.
"Yo, I'm not kidding! I mean, I was nervous about it being a joke, but the research is serious. Look at the way the dolphins' lips are, the mouth. . . . I'm sure there's stuff we can't do, but they—the Dolphin Research Center— actually got back to me." He catches his breath. "It could really happen." He proceeds to spit out the clicking noise of a dolphin.
Located in the Florida Keys, the Dolphin Research Center is one of the country's top institutes for marine mammal research. "I'll admit, when Terry first approached us, well, it was unusual," says Mary Stella, media relations coordinator for the DRC. "But he was so sincere, so nice, so . . . earnest that I took my notes and ran it by my staff. Bottom line, it's not harmful and he's so enthusiastic."
Stella cautions that the idea is still in the early stages, awaiting a formal research pro posal. But she seems genuinely interested. "I didn't know what beatboxing was until Terry explained it," she admits. "There's not a lot of beatboxing in country music, which is what I mostly listen to." She notes that the center has tried out music before. "We've had choral groups, a cellist, and I even think a didgeridoo player before, but this is unique. Terry said they believe in 'edutainment,' and we are the same way. Our dolphins are always curious." In fact, she mentions one in particular—Theresa, or T for short. "T is a totally goofy show-off, and has an unbelievable repertoire of sounds," she says.
Maybe Lucky's onto something here.
"On the surface, people will think it's a gimmick," he acknowledges. "But from 1978 to 1984 there was research about dolphins communicating using verbal sounds like vowels and consonants. And human beatboxers are essentially trained to do just that. Plus, I got a beatboxer down in D.C. who's a high school science teacher, ya know? So I was like, let's try it."
But not all beatboxers are interested in the call of the wild. The more conventional among their ranks have eked out a living on tour, often revving up a crowd for the bigger acts to follow. Perhaps the busiest mouth around is Rahzel, a/k/a the Godfather of Noyze, who gained notoriety in the mid '90s with Philadelphia hip-hop crew the Roots, wherein he was joined by Scratch, another beatboxer known for his signature turntable sound. Rahzel was one of the first to create vocal beats while singing lyrics simultaneously, and he went on to a modestly successful solo career. Kenny Muhammad, the "Human Orchestra," has carved out a niche, once donning a tux for a gig with the New York Philharmonic. And then there's that crazy Orthodox Jew whose percussive tics became an Internet phenomenon— Brooklyn's Matisyahu may be an international reggae star now, but he got his start as a beatboxer on the same bills as Lucky.
Lucky likes to point out that several a cappella vocal groups now also tout themselves as beatboxers. He mentions Björk's 2002 album Medúlla, constructed entirely of human vocals, beatboxers foremost among them. And he's got special affection for Justin Timberlake, who dabbles in the art briefly on both 2002's Justified and this year's FutureSex/LoveSounds. In the meantime, Lucky has made it his mission to track down all the old-school greats, guys like Biz Markie, Jock Box, Wise from Stetsa-sonic, and Doug E. Fresh. He's held court with most of them—the only major figure to elude him was Buffy from the Fat Boys, who died of a heart attack in 1995 at 28 years old and 450 pounds.
But there was one other legendary name who, though still very much alive, was particularly tough to draw out. "I finally found him just outside Philly," Lucky says. "In fact, I was the first in the beatbox community to get his contact info. Dude eventually called me back on Christmas Day."
Long before he moved to the Philadelphia suburbs, acquired a beautiful wife and four rambunctious kids, was born again through Jesus Christ, and sued boyhood-friend-turned-superstar Will Smith for $2.6 million, Clarence Holmes, now 38, was simply Ready Rock C, the human beatbox. "I was always ready," he explains. "To do what? Rock. What's the first initial in my name? C. That's how it came about: Ready Rock C. Ready to rock a beat!" He's yelling all this while reclining in a plush leather love seat on a recent afternoon in his duplex's spotless living room. Ready's personal website lists his favorite color as "all of them"; he's just as magnanimous in person.
Like most beatboxers, he discovered his unusual gift early in life. A shy kid from the black middle-class neighborhood of Wynne-field in West Philadelphia, Ready liked making funny noises with his mouth. One particular routine he became known for was the Sanford and Son television theme, but with a twist: He pretended he was underwater. "That came about, me just sitting home in the kitchen with a cup of juice or something," he recalls. "I was drinking at the time, blowing bubbles, you know? And then God inspired me. I just felt it in my spirit. Like, OK, that's cool, now lemme see you do it and make a beat." Ready tries to resurrect the tune, but he's nursing a nasty cold and only manages to cough out a few frustrated notes before giving up. Embarrassed, he scoots to the kitchen and grabs a box of Clorox disinfectant wipes.
Around the time Ready's big mouth evolved into a booming beatmaker, he met a lanky rapper with big ears who called himself the Fresh Prince. "We played basketball together, went to the arcades, put change together to buy burgers from McDonald's," Ready recalls of his new friend Will Smith. The young MC needed to build his reputation as a freestyler, and it helped to have a mobile percussionist like Ready Rock C to supply the beats. Hanging out in West Philly, they were always looking to test their skills against other crews. "I mean, we would literally pull up on guys," Ready remembers. "If we seen them bobbing their heads on the corner or in a B-boy stance and it looked like they was rapping, Will was like errr!!, pulling over, out of the car, kachutt!! 'Yo, you wanna battle?!' And we're going at it." The scene is captured on the beatbox classic "My Buddy":
up4 Tryin' to beat us, that doesn't make any sense
He's Ready Rock C, and I'm the Fresh Prince
In the rap industry we're ranked as first
Ain't a better combination in the whole universe!
up4 So if you wanna battle your future looks muddy
up4 'Cause you just can't beat my buddy
"That's when hip-hop was fun, you know?" Ready says. "You could just go head-to-head, display your craft to one another, and no one gets offended or pulls any guns." The duo eventually brought in local DJ Jeffrey Townes, and the rest was history. Unfortunately, Ready was largely left out of it—"My Buddy" appeared on 1988's wildly successful He's the DJ, I'm the Rapper, credited to DJ Jazzy Jeff and the Fresh Prince. Ready appears on a number of tracks from that album and claims to have conceived the idea for mega-hit "Parents Just Don't Understand." He says he didn't mind being left out of the group's name at first, because his beatboxing was often at the forefront. But over time the omission was telling. DJ Jazzy Jeff and the Fresh Prince went on to sell millions of records, winning rap's first Grammy in 1988. At the awards ceremony Ready was asked to sit out the group's performance onstage, and shortly thereafter was booted from the group altogether.
Ready blows his nose clear of mucus and spits in a small Styrofoam cup. "I mean, I was kept in the background. 'Cause to be honest, I was a threat, and Will wanted the spotlight all to himself." He creases his brow. "'My Buddy' was written by Will Smith and composed by myself. In spite of how Will Smith treated me in the long run, that's how I know he felt about me. That song was about our friendship."
It's a friendship that's grown acrimonious over the years. A few years ago Ready filed a lawsuit asking for back royalties he contends never came his way. The case went before federal court but was thrown out due to the statute of limitations. Ready shakes his head. "He promised me and lied to me all these years, which is why I waited. He's very smart and manipulative." (Through a PR rep, Will Smith declined to comment.)
Ready is wearing a white T-shirt emblazoned with his own "READY ROCK C" logo stretched over a pronounced paunch. He strokes his close-cut beard and sits forward in his seat. "See all of this?" he asks, gesturing with his brawny arms at the comfortable middle-class possessions that surround him. "None of this is Ready Rock C money. I worked hard, got an education, and made this through my IT company. Will hasn't done this—pulled himself up by his bootstraps, I mean." The burly beatboxer is a seesaw of emotions. "But I'm blessed— children clothed, roof over our head, meat in the fridge . . . " His voice fades out as his face tightens into a grimace. "Even though I pray for Will, I need my money. I need to get paid!" By now he's almost growling, but quickly laughs it off.
"Ready Rock C's a cat who got hurt," Lucky says. "No doubt." He's been trying to bring his childhood hero out of retirement for some time now. "But it's like he's trying to recoup all his lost dollars—crazy dol lars— at once. We can't do that, but we can give him a mic and a stage." At times like this Lucky seems more like a support group leader tending to his flock of bruised egos. He's bruised himself, but his optimism is infectious. "Here's the thing," he continues, clapping his hands together. "Why have we survived so long? Live shows! That's it. Our live shows are bangin'! I mean MCs just go back and forth, back and forth." Lucky mimics them swaying lazily from side to side. "But people are amazed and dazzled by our live shows. Cats are just bending and breaking notes all over the place—you'd think TV would wanna see that."
Sometimes TV does. A couple of months ago NBC approached Lucky's crew about participating in the next season of their hit reality show America's Got Talent. Andreas Thai-yan, Lucky's manager, says the beatboxers chewed it over but eventually turned NBC down. "The people who do these things are not taken seriously," he explains. "They're looked at as a novelty." Lucky concurs: "Some of the guys were worried about being pigeonholed. The issue of exploitation came up. Fact is, so much is going on now, we can afford to turn it down."
He's got a point. Despite their struggles in hip-hop, beatboxers are thriving elsewhere. They work fashion shows, peddle their own line of ringtones, and have inked promotional deals with everyone from Google to Verizon. "I like authenticity and originality, and beatboxers can really make the crowd go crazy," says Matt Herron, executive producer of MTV Networks, who hired Beatboxer Entertainment a few months ago. "We used them for an e-mail blast and an advertising upfront. They just had that certain . . . something." Thai-yan thinks he knows what that something might be: "Honestly, it's very nonthreatening. Hip-hop without the dirty words; just dope music that draws you in."
But it doesn't draw everyone. Though MTV showed them some love, sister network VH1 failed to do the same during its third annual Hip-Hop Honors Week in October. Sponsored by Mayor Bloomberg, this year's event was a citywide celebration of all the elements: rapping, DJ'ing, graf writing, and breakdancing. All but one, that is. Beatboxing was conspicuously absent. Martha Diaz, a leader of the grassroots Hip-Hop Association and a friend of Beatboxer Entertainment, says VH1 had pledged to work with them but later "brushed us off. They made promises and then reneged. Sad to say, I'm really not that surprised."
Neither is Lucky. "Do we get respect?" he asks. "No, we don't. VH1, they may not be giving the culture its own shine like the others, but at some point they're gonna have to. They're just ill-informed right now. I'll take the 'I told you so!' down the road, ya know what I'm sayin'?"
"Our decision of what to put on the calendar for the week was based on good old-fashioned research of what was going on 'hip-hop-wise,' " counters VH1's Wendy Weatherford, the station's VP of consumer and music marketing, in an e-mail. "As far as the celebrity talent involved in HHH Week is concerned, we tried to book talent that was also involved in the [televised awards] show. Actually, our Celebrity Basketball game on Sunday was hosted by the original human beat box, Dougie Fresh."
True, but in all the promotional materials for Hip-Hop Honors, not once was Doug E. Fresh billed as the "original human beatbox." Instead he was one of many "celebrity MCs." A pedantic quibble, perhaps, but a significant one. As hip-hop officially becomes History —enshrined in the Smithsonian and canonized by tastemakers at VH1 —will beatboxers ever get their proper due? The irrepressible Kid Lucky takes the long view. "'No' doesn't mean 'never,' it just means 'not now,' " he believes. "You gotta pick your battles. Besides, history books can be rewritten."
Maybe if spurned long enough, beatboxers will decide they don't need hip-hop at all. Or other human beings, for that matter. The last time I speak to Lucky, all he can talk about are his dolphins. "This is like some Nobel Prize shit!" he cries. "I'm very proud of this. I mean, I didn't go to college like a lot of people. After you've been locked up in a small room for most of your adolescence, done the 'Yes sir, no sir' thing in the military, been homeless, sold drugs . . . " His voice trails off. "Yeah, this is big."
Back on the sweaty L train—still jammed but now jamming in the tunnel—the smiles are as bountiful and organic as the beats. For just this moment, the beatboxers have everyone's attention. Then the robotic voice cuts in once more: "Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for your patience. We apologize for the delay. We will be moving shortly." In the space of four kicks, two snares, and six lip smacks, the train rumbles to life and rolls toward Brooklyn.
This piece is dedicated to Ellen Willis.
December 4, 2006
Artist of the week - Uncut
After eighteen years of hard work Uncut is finally ready to shine. A survivor of Father Panik Village, a notoriously violent section of Bridgeport, CT, Uncut has opened for the likes of Biggie and Fat Joe and appeared on the Free Mongo series of mix-CDs. Uncut, who’s a member of Mongo Maddness’ Deviouz Dollarz team, has spent the bulk of his career educating other artists, but now at age 30 he feels it’s time spread knowledge globally. This week I sat down with him to find out more. Read more...
November 28, 2006
November 27, 2006
Intro - New to The Group Home.
I was having a conversation with a fellow emcee about where to find instrumentals online. Like full length albums. So Tranquill and I got around to the possibility of recording over all the tracks to an old Group Home album...
I already started writing...
Recorded a little rough joint early this morning. You were probably alseep.
Intro - It Is What It Is... mp3
it is what it is.. the biz is the biz
mind yah biz for you wind up find yah wiz
in the fiz... kidz in the hall takin falls makin calls from out they bid
must be out they wigs.. wet snitching to the pigs
is you is or is you not ready for the steady shots
in the summer when the block gets hot..
for the fur coat rockin and the fiends detoxing..
slap boxin, get familiar.. conscious and tranquill
buildin.. knockin down pillars...
turn yah broad to salt for lookin back...
summer salts in somerset..
snatchin backpacks and chains
right offah empty brains...
for inspiration i kiss the rain
Artist of the week: Jewn Sabbath
Born in Hawaii, but a California native since the age of five, Jewn Sabbath has been making a name for himself in the music world with his mixture of reggae, blues, rock, Hip-Hop and soul, all the while playing his guitar. He’ll soon be releasing his debut album, Absinthe Minded, which was conceived and written while on a vacation from, well, everything. You see, Jewn, at the time, was in hiding. He describes the album that has come from that experience as a reflection of his time in Hollywood, a time that very few, if anyone shares. Recently Jewn called in to my radio show and we talked about some of those experiences, the 180 he’s done in life since then and what his goals are now that he’s a changed man. Read more...
Hip-hop with a porpoise
NOV 27, 2006
MANHATTAN When Terry “Kid Lucky” Lewis isn’t organizing the bimonthly Sunday Hip-Hop Subway Series — where rappers, singers, beatboxers and even tap dancers jam in transit — he’s running his own production company, Beatboxer Entertainment. In his spare time, the Brooklynite has been reading about dolphins and dreaming of a way to unite his armchair research with hip-hop.
He recently won approval from the Dolphin Research Center in Grassy Key, Fla., to send a team of seven beatboxers to perform and conduct research with dolphins.
“I’m trying to figure out musically what we can do that will bring out something unique with the dolphins,” said Kid Lucky, who expects to stage the performance in October 2007. “But it’s not just about music, it’s also about science.
“In hip-hop culture there have been questions about how to get the youth exposed to more about science and math,” he said. “We have a spiritual base and we haven’t complemented it with a knowledge of science.”
Kid Lucky wants to know if dolphins will respond to beats.
“The concept of dolphins being able to work with music isn’t anything new,” he said. “Dolphins are very smart.”
Mary Stella, media relations coordinator at the Dolphin Research Center, sent an e-mail to Kid Lucky last month with some ideas: “We envision some performers standing in the water on one of our special DolphinSplash underwater platforms to perform. Our trainers would then ask the dolphins to come in close to interact and, hopefully, make some sounds, too.”
The performers, who will be about hip- to waist-deep in the water, depending on their height and the tide, won’t use any lyrics. They will use clicks, pops and whistles to create their musical compositions.
Kid Lucky acknowledged some people might find the dolphin project gimmicky but, “I don’t want that amusement to stay amusement. I want it to progress into something greater. We have a scientist who’s a beatboxer, we have teachers, we’ve talked to research scientists.
“Sometimes you need to take risks, like the risk of being laughed at and losing it all,” Kid Lucky said, “to do what you know is right.”
Article taken from Metro New York: Here
He recently won approval from the Dolphin Research Center in Grassy Key, Fla., to send a team of seven beatboxers to perform and conduct research with dolphins.
“I’m trying to figure out musically what we can do that will bring out something unique with the dolphins,” said Kid Lucky, who expects to stage the performance in October 2007. “But it’s not just about music, it’s also about science.
“In hip-hop culture there have been questions about how to get the youth exposed to more about science and math,” he said. “We have a spiritual base and we haven’t complemented it with a knowledge of science.”
Kid Lucky wants to know if dolphins will respond to beats.
“The concept of dolphins being able to work with music isn’t anything new,” he said. “Dolphins are very smart.”
Mary Stella, media relations coordinator at the Dolphin Research Center, sent an e-mail to Kid Lucky last month with some ideas: “We envision some performers standing in the water on one of our special DolphinSplash underwater platforms to perform. Our trainers would then ask the dolphins to come in close to interact and, hopefully, make some sounds, too.”
The performers, who will be about hip- to waist-deep in the water, depending on their height and the tide, won’t use any lyrics. They will use clicks, pops and whistles to create their musical compositions.
Kid Lucky acknowledged some people might find the dolphin project gimmicky but, “I don’t want that amusement to stay amusement. I want it to progress into something greater. We have a scientist who’s a beatboxer, we have teachers, we’ve talked to research scientists.
“Sometimes you need to take risks, like the risk of being laughed at and losing it all,” Kid Lucky said, “to do what you know is right.”
Article taken from Metro New York: Here
November 25, 2006
November 23, 2006
Pilgramige Mixtape ::: The Gray Kid & People Food
THE PILGRIMAGE: Ya'll Some Turkeys, The Gray Kid's Thanksgiving Mixtape, includes sneak peaks at new and upcoming GK bangers, as well as classic mixtape style rhyming on hit records by Clipse, Bjork, Masta Ace and others... FREE @ www.people-food.com/turkeysTHE PILGRIMAGE MIXTAPE
GRAY KID | PEOPLE FOOD
WORLD'S FAIR
BITE SIZED PORTIONS @ WWW.WORLDS-FAIR.NET/NEWS/
APPETIZER @ YOUTUBE
Tracklisting:
GRAY KID | PEOPLE FOOD
WORLD'S FAIR
BITE SIZED PORTIONS @ WWW.WORLDS-FAIR.NET/NEWS/
APPETIZER @ YOUTUBE
Tracklisting:
1. The Gray Kid (Dipset) - “B Thru Z”
2. The Gray Kid - “Dirty Don’t Love Me”
3. The Gray Kid (Dead Prez) - “Race World”
4. Mi$ter Be$t - “EH MAN (Chop’d & Screw’d)
6. The Gray Kid (Jeru The Damaja) - “Gittin’ Some”
7. The Gray Kid - “Do The Misfit”
8. The Gray Kid (Jay Z) - “Kingdoms Come…”
10. The Gray Kid (E.F.P) - “NYLAthing (Annihilating) Feat. Kobayashi”
11. The Gray Kid (Clipse) - “Mystery Too”
12. The Gray Kid (Young Jeezy) - “So Dope Boys Feat. Ali Bey”
13. The Gray Kid (Masta Ace) - “Shittin On Domes”
14. The Gray Kid - “Another Day In The Life”
15. The Gray Kid (Mobb Deep) - “It Get Twisted”
16. The Gray Kid (Bjork) - “Stephanie B. Microscopic”
17. The Gray Kid - “Roll The Thunder”
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The Hip Hop Subway Series
On November 26th 2006 at 6pm The hip hop subway series starts off at the *back of the F train at the **2nd Avenue** station to the last stop at **Coney Island*. All vocalists and percussionists are invited to take part in the hottest hip hop jam session in NYC! Human beatboxers, emcees, B-Boys, singers, spoken word artists, dancers and more make up the hottest hip hop subway party. On November 26th and every other Sunday, come to the hottest party in the underground. We hope you spread this email to all your friends. I hope to see all my old friends and new ones join in. I am looking forward to some good old fashion hip hop jam session with some of NYC's hottest hip hop artists! Like I always say: There will be *NO* *drums or kazoos or small portable* *amps! Pleased do not bring drums there are enough things on the subway you can use to provide a beat! I look forward to seeing everyone. Also visit www.beatboxerent.net about what we are doing check out some video, look at pics, and we are also available for bookings. *
*For more info contact Kid Lucky at http://www.freehiphopnow.com:2082/horde/imp/message.php?index=225# *
November 22, 2006
Sum Majere "Popeye's Livin"
You know what, this guy is one insane character. An insanely talented character. You gottah buy the album folks. You must! Buy 'The Lil Folk' today!
November 20, 2006
Artists of the week - Track Lacer & Phat Daddy Bu
You don’t hear about a lot of rappers from Milwaukee. Most people would assume Hip-Hop doesn’t even exist there, but Track Lacer & Phat Daddy Bu are doing everything they can to try to put their city on Hip-Hop’s radar. About an hour and thirty minutes from Chicago, IL along the shore of Lake Michigan, Milwaukee is probably most known for beer. Track Lacer says it’s not an easy place to perform, noting “it’s too violent a city to support much live, local Hip-Hop. Every time we've ever had a weekly venue booked, it got canceled due to idiots fighting or shooting.” This goes against everything the duo stands for as they point out “we are role models, by default. Hip Hop is raising kids across the U.S.A. If we don't accept responsibility for what we say negatively, then we in turn won't take responsibility for how kids act as a result of our negativity. Milwaukee has led the nation in teen pregnancy rate for 7 out of last 10 years, so...it's not parents raising our kids, it's basically Momma and Young Jeezy.” This week I sat down with Track Lacer and Phat Daddy Bu to discuss their role as role models, their music and some of the issues they’d like to open people’s eyes to. Read more...
November 15, 2006
Sean Price "Jesus Price Supastar" Album Cover Unveiled
Jesus Price Supastar is produced by 9th Wonder, Khrysis, G- Unit's, Ill Mind, MOSS, PF Cuttin and more. The album features: Buckshot, Smif N Wessun, Rock (of Heltah Skeltah), Sadat-X, Little Brother, Ruste Juxx, Chaundon, and the Loudmouf Choir.Lean With It, Rock With It, Stop With It...
I'm in the house recently, cooking up something for the kids while my oldest is flipping the channels looking for the next best thing to watch on the tube until her favorite show Degrassi comes on. From a few seconds of MTV Cribs re-runs to VH1 and then she finally decides to leave it on BET.At first it was all good – I was bobbing my head to one of Beyonce's recent bangers then Busta's "Touch It" jam came on, but it slowly went downhill from there. I thought I had put too many onions in the dish that I was making but then I realized that I was beginning to shed a tear at the garbage that I was hearing.
I won't say any names of the groups and artists that were played but I honestly believe we are not only at a state of emergency when it comes to the politics of this nation - we are also in a state of emergency when it comes to the negative and repulsive music that's aired on TV and radio.
As I continued to listen, I found myself standing completely still, staring at the television in disappointment as I heard more about ass-shaking and drugs in two songs than I have heard in one week of listening to several CDs. What hurt the most was that these songs were categorized as hip-hop!
I really don't think that the average listener of top 40 radio knows what hip-hop is. Hip-hop is not rap, and rap is not hip-hop. People often say, "Hip-Hop is a culture, and rap is what you do within that culture," which is true to some degree, but it's more than that. Hip-hop is not only about beats and lyrics, but it's about unity, love, peace, spirituality. Hip-hop was created to bring people together to speak about various things on a common ground with common goals in mind.
When listening and viewing the so called "hip-hop" today, I don't see much unity nor do I see anything that truly uplifts the community, I see more negative things that brings down our community. From songs that glorify drug selling, to prostitution, to simply killing another person, when is it going to end? How does it affect our young people, our next leaders? Our kids are dancing and singing this crap at home, with their friends, and at school. This is part of the reason why we have kids having sex early, getting killed and going to prison – because the music is raising our kids, not the parents.
When it comes to the next generation of leaders, I feel sorry for this nation, most people my age and older grew up listening to songs like "What's Going On?" by Marvin Gaye to Queen Latifah's "Unity," "If I Rule The World" by Curtis Blow - songs that motivated me to question injustice and join to end it. But the songs out now are not motivating, just brainwashing.
In the end, change begins with you, stand out, be yourself. I was told that the people you hang around will be the people who you will end up acting like; and I believe that the music you listen to fits the same mold. Be yourself, listen to music that will motivate you to reach your goals and don't follow suit. The trump card sits within you.
- Chosun
November 14, 2006
GWEN STEFANI | Official Music Video for "Wind It Up"
VIDEO:
Artist: Gwen Stefani
Title: Wind It Up
Official Site?- http://www.gwenstefani.com/
Myspace?- http://www.myspace.com/gwenstefani
SCHOLARMAN OF ELSE WHERE? ENTERTAINMENT SET TO DROP "CANDY MEDICINE"
Bowie, MD – October 27, 2006 – Many of us are able to remember those days as a youngster when that dreadful wintertime cold came over us. We would come in from school or from playing outside with a red nose, itching eyes, drippy nose hoping that mom will be able to work her magic and heal the aches and pains. Many mothers were able to take one look at our face and know exactly what medicine to grab, and knew precisely how to give you the medicine. For those who hated taking medicine, there was a technique that is still used widely today called "putting the medicine in the candy," as a result disguising the medicine inside of a treat, a method that grew to be very effective; paving the way for many medicine products today that taste, feel and look like typical candy from the corner store.
The hip-hop industry is sick ladies and gentlemen, every time you turn on your radio it's like stepping outside in 30 degree weather without a winter a coat, the end result being a virus that gets into your soul and marinates until you get one thing – Candy Medicine. The concept is simple, medicine that is not apparent, but instead transparently working its way into your system inside of candy that you are used to.
Let's face it; listening to mainstream hip-hop today can be a sickening experience for some and its time for the hip-hop community to heal. What happened to hip-hop music with soul, with heart? What happened to hip-hop music that didn't glorify material wealth but instead hip-hop music that focused on keeping the culture alive? This type of music still exists, from your Common's, Talib Kweli, Mos Def, Dead Prez, Kanye West, Little Brother, but the top 40 virus has it in its control, and only releases like Candy Medicine can free it.
Candy Medicine is the latest effort from revolutionary emcee and producer ScholarMan, previously known as Scholar. Scholar is now legally ScholarMan, separating himself from the many Scholar's in the music industry, not only by name but by sound as well. Candy Medicine consists of 12 tracks, solely produced and written by Scholar with one goal in mind – to heal. How does it heal? Through tunes you can nod your head to, and gain something from, real hip-hop. On this album ScholarMan explains his view on what real hip-hop is, and it's worth a listen. From pounding beats, inspirational lyrics and an underlying message on every track, ScholarMan sets himself apart with every track.
This holiday season; pick up "Candy Medicine" if you enjoy classic hip-hop music with a message. "Candy Medicine" is coming soon to CD Baby, iTunes, eBay, and other retail chains. Please contact the Else Where? Music Group for discounted wholesale orders at:
Else Where? Music Group |
Freehiphop.com is looking for contributors.
Free Hiphop Now is looking for contributors. Get in where you fit in! If you like to write or just have an opinion that you'd like to express about anything, NOT JUST MUSIC!, send it right on in and we may distribute your content on our main site or one of our connected blogs. Free Hiphop Now wants to spread the word from your pen to a community of eager listeners. We receive tons of music to review from mainstream, independent and so underground it's dirty artists and labels and we look to put out honest critiques of their work. Here's an opportunity to voice your thoughts about anything. Educate! Entertain! & Empower! Do you know someone that writes and you think they'd be a perfect fit? Tell them about us. Send all writing submissions to submissions@freehiphopnow.com
Sav Killz
Sav Killz is a gritty emcee whose voice can either inspire you or break you down depending on what his goal is for a particular track. After taking a listen to his latest CD, Determination Through Time, it becomes crystal clear that Sav has some incredible skills. Personally, the album reminded me, at times, of old school Wu-Tang and there’s a really good reason for that, he’s been down with the Wu for over a decade. Wanting to know more, I sat down with Sav Killz and got the full story. Read more...
| "The Slaughter - Sav Kills" | length: 02:45 | |||
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November 11, 2006
J DILLA - New Video, Hats, T-Shirts on the way!
J Dilla’s legacy continues to shine
New Video To Be Released For ‘Shining’ Album Track 'Won't Do' exclusively on imeem (www.imeem.com)
As word continues to spread on the recent release of J Dilla's final work 'The Shining', a steady chorus of praise is making itself heard. From major magazine features and newspapers nationally to NPR, television and more, this final work by one of Hip Hop's most innovative creative forces continues to be held up as proof that J Dilla was one of the most significant Hip Hop artists in recent memory.
The release will now see further play with a new video currently in post production for the track 'Won't Do'. The video is directed by Mazik Saevitz (of Blood of Abraham fame) and will feature Dilla's brother John Yancey as well as cameos from Common, Will.I.AM, Black Thought, Talib Kweli, Karriem Riggins and others. Styling for the video was done by Las Vegas based Fruition (www.fruitionlv.com). Expect a surreal CG driven visual journey that will celebrate Dilla’s legacy while staying true to ‘Won’t Do’ as a song.
The video will premier on 12/4/06 and will be exclusively available on imeem http://jdilla.imeem.com for 2 weeks following the premier. 2 weeks leading up to the premier exclusive stills and behind the scenes footage will be available on imeem. imeem is a next-generation online network for social media, bringing people together through shared creative passions by combining social networking with innovative digital media features and instant messaging. imeem allows people to upload user-created video, audio, photos, and blogs, attracting an independent and diverse community of artists, bands, filmmakers, photographers, DJs, video nuts and fans.
Listen to "Won't Do" on http://jdilla.imeem.com - Register now and embed the song in your blog, website or profile!
J Dilla X New Era - 'The Shining' Branded Hats to hit stores on Black Friday
J Dilla 'Shining' New Era hats will be released on Nov. 24th, 2006. There will be two hats released, each will correspond to the color of the shining album and instrumental album. Pictures are posted now on http://jdilla.imeem.com
The hats will be sold for $74.00 each. 74 commemorates the year that J Dilla was born. The black hat will include a copy of The Shining instrumental CD album and the crimson hat will include a copy of The Shining CD. The hats will be limited to 144, of each colorway. All proceeds from the hats will go to the J Dilla foundation http://www.jdilla.org
The hats will be available 11/24/06 at:
New York - Union NY 172 Spring Street Tel. 212.226.8493
Los Angeles - Union LA 110 South La Brea Avenue Tel. 323.549.6950
Toronto – Goodfoot 431 Richmond Street Tel. 416.364.0734
Montreal – Goodfoot 3830 St. Laurent Boulevard
Calgary – Goodfoot 736 17th. Ave. SW Unit B (Upper Unit)
Vancouver – Goodfoot/Ransom 36 Powell St.
Online – www.okayplayer.com
In Toronto INQMND, GOODFOOT and SMPLSZ will host a fundraiser and hat release party on 11/23/06 at Supermarket 268 Augusta Ave. Doors open @ 9PM and donations are $5. For more info go to http://jdilla.imeem.com/ www.inqmnd.ca www.getonthegoodfoot.ca www.smplsz.com
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