Tink, Tink… anybody still out there?
For those who care I’m back. I had to take some personal inventory and decide what I want to be when I grow up. With my 39th Birthday recently passing and my life beginning to settle from recent struggles it seemed like an ideal time to reflect on self. Gordon Parks remarked on how important it was for us to look in the mirror from time to time just to check ourselves, and I think its quite important to take time for periodical self reflection.
Of course my life is far from fulfilled but I’m finding my footing and beginning to positively progress down the new path I have chosen. Still a lot of shit to carry, but hey that’s life, right? But the change has also provided many new opportunities, and with age comes the acknowledgement that time is more precious then I ever imagined. No more time to spare. More importantly, it is time for me to do it my way. With my acceptance of the short time allotted to us here, I also have surmised that to a certain extent Ayan Rand is right, living for ones self, is not necessarily a negative. I have lived my life trying to please others often at my own expense. I have chosen routes that my inner voice warned me were wrong, but my philosophical self said were the “right thing to do.” But alas, I imagine that is why they call life the beautiful struggle.
Now, no more ignoring the voice inside, as I realize it is the voice of wisdom, and I would be a fool to continue to ignore it now that I have this understanding. As Bob said “only a fool would lean upon his on misunderstanding.”
At the risk of sounding like an echo chamber I want to thank my dear brothers, I Self Ra, Humanity Critic, Fruquan, and Gunner, for the constant advice and encouragement. Also a special shout out to the lady in my life who is constant in her loving criticisms and esteem building encouragement.
For those who care I’m back. I had to take some personal inventory and decide what I want to be when I grow up. With my 39th Birthday recently passing and my life beginning to settle from recent struggles it seemed like an ideal time to reflect on self. Gordon Parks remarked on how important it was for us to look in the mirror from time to time just to check ourselves, and I think its quite important to take time for periodical self reflection.
Of course my life is far from fulfilled but I’m finding my footing and beginning to positively progress down the new path I have chosen. Still a lot of shit to carry, but hey that’s life, right? But the change has also provided many new opportunities, and with age comes the acknowledgement that time is more precious then I ever imagined. No more time to spare. More importantly, it is time for me to do it my way. With my acceptance of the short time allotted to us here, I also have surmised that to a certain extent Ayan Rand is right, living for ones self, is not necessarily a negative. I have lived my life trying to please others often at my own expense. I have chosen routes that my inner voice warned me were wrong, but my philosophical self said were the “right thing to do.” But alas, I imagine that is why they call life the beautiful struggle.
Now, no more ignoring the voice inside, as I realize it is the voice of wisdom, and I would be a fool to continue to ignore it now that I have this understanding. As Bob said “only a fool would lean upon his on misunderstanding.”
At the risk of sounding like an echo chamber I want to thank my dear brothers, I Self Ra, Humanity Critic, Fruquan, and Gunner, for the constant advice and encouragement. Also a special shout out to the lady in my life who is constant in her loving criticisms and esteem building encouragement.
Not sure if it is my age or my complete snobbish attitude when it comes to Hip-Hop shows-probably a combination of both- but I seldom get excited by upcoming shows that blow through this area. This, in light of the fact, that when I do take a peak at something other then VH1-soul, I realize, I have lost almost complete touch with what is hot. Shit at this point, I’m basically that drunken uncle at the cook out who is constantly going on about “how we use to do it back in the day.” Now it is me going on about how Lil Wayne can’t hold a candle to the GOD RAKIM, and Grand Master Caz could rhyme for fifteen minutes with no hook and never repeat himself. As I have resolved that Hip-Hop is a youth culture, and I’m no longer youth, however, that is no way discourages me form digging for that good shit I know is out there, and speaking my peace on the most important influence in my life, Hip-Hop culture.
We all have certain smells, songs, places, or something that immediately transports us back to a specific time in our lives. For me one of those stimulants is when I go to Zulu Nations anniversary celebrations in NYC. There is something about walking into the Kennedy Cultural Center in Harlem, with its hardwood gym floor, DJ’s on the stage (at Zulu the DJ’s on the stage normally consist of either Jazzy-J, Afrika Bambatta, Or Starski Luv Bug, which makes it all the more mind blowing,) and B-boys in a cipher that takes me back to when I was in JR high school, in a similar gym, rec-center, or in someone’s front yard with linoleum square honing my craft as a b-boy. To this day if I hear Planet Rock or Pack Jam my body unconsciously responds and I find my arms starting to tick and my body loosen, ready to unveil my arsenal of three break moves.
For me Hip-Hop has always been about more then just the music, it has been about the culture and its ability to inform. Even when I’m in a club and they play classic Hip-hop shit, to me an olsd school set just doesn’t give me that complete sense of authenticity without the B-boys, ya dig? The culture as laid down by the elders in the Bronx having been largely evaporated here in the states, largely becoming a cottage industry for the Emcees, seemingly forgetting, that for about the first ten years the culture was existence there were no rap records. Outside of B-Boy battles, which seldom get the attention they deserve, and events like Zulu Anniversary, much of what is billed as Hip-Hop has little dialogue with the foundation of the culture.
So a couple of weeks ago when I got the customary zero hour text from my man Emory-AKA DJ Ill-literate I was amped. When Ill and his partner in crime Cornbread, get on the ones and two, it generally turns into one of those rare occasions I get to time travel and experience an evening that provides the aura circa of 1982. A time when the culture thrived on who was the dopest B-Boy on the floor, the illest rhyme sayer, or maybe wrote the craziest tag, and not about who has the dopest car, and illest chain, ya dig? Back in a time when reverence for your name was given based on the showing and proving of skills in a battle.
A little context may be helpful here. My man Emory-Ill-Literate is a B-Boy scholar. I don’t just mean in the he can site or recite any verse put on record since 77’ type scholar. Well, he is one of those as well, but he is also a PHD type scholar. The real Ill thing is he got his PHD in Hip-Hop and education from Regent University. How fucking Ill is that? He got a doctorate, with Hip-Hop as his focus from Pat “I predict the world will end because gay people were allowed to have a day at Disney world,” Roberson’s school. Now that’s gangsta! This is the kid I want to be when I grow up, but I digress.
To me the thing that makes a DJ a Hip-Hop DJ juxtaposed to say a mix tape Dj or a radio personality DJ, is ones proficiency for digging in crates, and equally as important, the ability to mix while keeping the party rocking. Making a mixed tape or getting Emcee’s to Rhyme over some beats, although entertaining and impressive, to me makes one a producer not a Hip-Hop DJ. Don’t get me wrong you can be both, DJ Premier is a perfectly example, but when we are talking about the culture in its purest form, it is about a DJ that concurrently wow’s with their musical vocabulary as well as their ability to keep asses on the dance floor.
Ill-Bread, as Ill-literate and Cornbread are affectionately referred, provided, on the ones and two’s, another perfect capsule for time traveling, never ceasing to amaze me with the breadth of their musical jockeying while simultaneously demanding that booty’s wiggle. In attendance was a peace crowed that got what it meant when Dougie Fresh, exclaimed, “I just want to see ya party and enjoy yourself.”
To me the thing that makes a DJ a Hip-Hop DJ juxtaposed to say a mix tape Dj or a radio personality DJ, is ones proficiency for digging in crates, and equally as important, the ability to mix while keeping the party rocking. Making a mixed tape or getting Emcee’s to Rhyme over some beats, although entertaining and impressive, to me makes one a producer not a Hip-Hop DJ. Don’t get me wrong you can be both, DJ Premier is a perfectly example, but when we are talking about the culture in its purest form, it is about a DJ that concurrently wow’s with their musical vocabulary as well as their ability to keep asses on the dance floor.
Ill-Bread, as Ill-literate and Cornbread are affectionately referred, provided, on the ones and two’s, another perfect capsule for time traveling, never ceasing to amaze me with the breadth of their musical jockeying while simultaneously demanding that booty’s wiggle. In attendance was a peace crowed that got what it meant when Dougie Fresh, exclaimed, “I just want to see ya party and enjoy yourself.”
Oh and like the days of yore they announced the gig with dope flyer's, not some glossed index cards with chemical ball, airbrushed, Buffy looking chicks on it.
Enjoy the flyer's and keep coming back.
Peace,
