That’s what Ron Nelson said to me once, after the ending of a school jam. This was pre Reggaemania of course, when he held it down Saturday afternoons on Toronto’s CKLN, with a show called The Fantastic Voyage. He handed down the afternoon hip hop show to DJ X’s Power Move to change formats with Reggaemania, at the time, he wanted to step away from the commercialization that he felt hip hop had become.
This man has been in Toronto Radio for a long time and deserves all the respect and accolades he gets, but even when he was controlling the airwaves of Saturday afternoons, he was somewhat of a legend. So one fateful day in class when I saw that there was a flyer being passed around, I immediately got excited. It was Ron’s sound system flyer, and it was in the hands of the class president, and I just had a feeling that Ron would be coming to my school.
Sure enough, the fateful night came and I was there loving it, to have the one and only Ron Nelson DJ at my school’s dance. Only problem, this was Deer Park Sr PS, and the P stood for Preppy. I knew Dave would probably be rather disappointed at the energy, playing to the crowd meant more of the likes of Siouxsie and the Banshees than it did KRS One. I was disappointed too, somewhat ideally, as being enrolled at this school meant I knew the 411. I knew better but I had hoped that more of The Fantastic Voyage and less of The Breakfast Club could come to this dance and turn on more ears to the energy of Hip Hop. Sure, I was deluded. Delusional. Then Disillusioned.
So after the show, I went up to Ron, caught him on the stairwell, and told him there was a fan of Hip Hop (and The Fantastic Voyage), as I was empathizing about the lack of knowledge. In my own way, I wanted to cheer him up, as not all of us were Zombies there that night. I wanted to make a request, I had the request in mind, and I said it, as politely as I could.
Now maybe I didn’t realize how disappointed he was, and possibly mad, at how the night turned out, so this may have had something to do with his response, but not entirely. He ended up saying…
Ask Dave to play Whodini.
Now the Dave he was referring to is Dave Ahmad, another Toronto Radio personality and legend from CKLN. Dave hosted Dave’s Dance Music on Sunday Afternoons, which was more dance oriented in format. Ron was telling me that they were more funk and R&B and would get play on Dave’s show, but not on his.
Respect to Ron Nelson, but Whodini is hip hop.
The moral of the story?
Play lots of Hip Hop (and learn the history) and also listen to Reggaemania, Friday 9pm - Midnight on CKLN FM, Toronto.
Back in the Day, it was fairly easy to pick out the “sellouts” and artists that were commercial yet lacked any real talent. It was, for the most part, mutually agreeable upon whom to give the gas face too, and who was safe from such disrespect. Back in the Day, artists like Hammer and Vanilla Ice, though able to run arena shows, couldn’t get any props from any block within the city limits of any said arena they played. Back in the day sold out shows didn’t equal street cred, in fact the opposite was true. Now, I don’t remember if these cats actually had sold out shows at arenas or not, but for the sake of my argument, I am assuming they did. What is true is that even in nice Toronto, you were asking for trouble if you wore a Hammer t-shirt. Now that’s a great story involving HDV that I’ll save for another time.
These days, it isn’t always so easy to draw these type of lines. Most definitely, it is still true that a large proportion of talented Recording Artists get dissed by the majors, even cats who have a catalogue are shown the door or encounter closed doors. It seems to be getting worse with these labels becoming super labels and then mega labels in turn. The media is even spinning types like Vanilla Ice as talented from their generation, as media seems bent on being history revisionists for the masses, makes me wonder who’s controlling the ropes.
However these days, an artist or song will receive some commercial success and it isn’t wack, sometimes these songs are really good. Also, however these days, is the fact that the rap loving public isn’t so polarized, so an artist may be hot to some while others would disagree. So while the same radio stations play the same songs and artists, a new dichotomy has emerged. Rap music no longer has a single voice. Gone are the days of lamenting for real success, as in when will hip hop go from underground and be welcomed by mainstream, and this has been replaced by who can bang out the dopest track the fastest. Hip hop has gone mainstream and a second reactionary underground has emerged. The new underground is diehard and unlike the old one, the underground loving public’s voice completely rejects anything that smells of pop.
So this new underground voice may have the same slogans as before, and in fact use the same slogans as before, but the difference is, the old underground disseminated what was and what wasn’t, and wanted in. The new underground disseminates what is and isn’t and is radically entrenched on the edge, completely rejecting the idea of welcoming the establishment.
So here we are, I’ll use a very specific example, 50 Cent. This guy was underground, has street cred (no, I’m not talking about the drug type of street cred) and went pop. He is hated and loved. Does he have banging tracks? Some will say yes and some will say no. The iconic-in-their-ability-to-polarize Hammers and Vanillas have long gone but the public sentiment of villian still remains. This sentiment even affects groups like Public Enemy. Artists that have stayed true have their share of haters, in modern times. So are we in an age of hate? Not exactly.
I don’t know if it’s just me… well, I know it’s not just me… when you reach a certain age, there are many of us who dread the Holiday Season. Commercialization Overkill. Too much time spent with relatives. Or on the other hand, nobody to spend the holidays with. These are but some of the reasons why many of us simply do not look forward to this particular time of year. Now the religious scholars will say this season isn’t about you or me, it’s about him (fill in the appropiate seasonal deity here). …But here is where I take a break for old time tradition. Christmas tradition. Sure, the holiday Chanakwanzamas tree in the lobby of my work brought me cheer this year, most notably because management stuck to their guns and put up a Christmas tree in 2007, so I renamed it as a Chanakwanzamas tree, but thinking about it now, I really should have named it a Diwanakwanzamas tree, to be fair.
Getting back to the story…
I’m not sure why I dread this season, all I know is that it has been awhile (many years) since/that I have felt this way, and I’m sure I had a damn good reason when I first started feeling this way, though I cannot remember the exact cause now. What I can tell you is that it is not a grinch-esque hate-on. I don’t hate this season, it’s more like a bad movie that you just want to stop watching, not so much emotional as objectionable. It’s personal in nature, and I am fine with anyone else’s opinion, be it good, love, or otherwise - their Christmas truly is their Christmas.
Today started like years past, no wait. Last night was when it really started. The night before Christmas. The time closest to Christmas. Ugh, great, Christmas is finally here. I had to run out to get mundane stuff like milk and toilet paper (if you must know, now you know) last minute, and everything was… capital C L O S E D. The corner variety stores would make a killing if anyone was actually out. Got back, ate something and wrapped presents. G’D Nite.
Back to today… it started like years past, so very… unexciting. Usually the kids’ joy brings me joy… but not this one day of the year. Except… Christmas dinner at my Dad’s. Title it “Presents and karaoke”. Now let me get to the good part:
(fast forward)
Time for karaoke and we are doing the usual Christmas jingles, and after we exhaust those (don’t get me confused, this was our first karaoke), my Dad starts looking through the menu for other songs we can sing… and I see… Hood Figga. Wait A Minute. What a moment. I not only get my Dad to select it, but he didn’t even miss a beat the whole time the song was in play, he hit every lyric right on point! That’s right, on this night, I lost the karaoke battle, but gained one of the best Christmas’ ever (and my Dad gets to retain his Cool as Ice title belt)!
Now… sing along with Zoe! (peace, Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays and all that!)
So I’ve been listening to this for awhile, http://aloeblacc.com/. Check the link, and rock yeh head to the track on the flash, I emailed the addy at the site, and also Aloe Blacc’s myspace page, for the name of the track, but everyone’s too busybody to reply or something. …but they ain’t turning me off that EZ! My machine’s time on this site is large, just for the beat! oh… - …and you can thank me later… that is you’re welcome if you just rock your head to the beat!
Well, lots of news to report since my last post, but what now, where to begin? First off, let me say I love Discogs. A big shout out and thank you to plusminus for coming through with a track I’ve been looking for, for quite some time… sure, it’s a repress, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t jump on the chance to pick up this gem, all the way from the Netherlands in fact, well, NA to EU and back again. Can You Feel It?
I was really hoping to give a review on an underground cat out of Cali, but paypal’s been sent and paypal’s been received and now there’s no sign of a package in my mailbox to date, that’s right, many week’s later it’s a large say-no-go. I have to take my chances, and I’m still giving him the benefit of the doubt here before I even think about grilling him. Sometimes life can get in the way, and I for one am one humble person who understands that. Remember this though, your State may be, but silence ain’t golden in this hip hop game. Speak up soon or I will be calling you out. It’ll be my lesson on Urban Economics 101… Communication is key (JB).
I recently added my latest hip hop mix to my podcast, check out BTS Hip Hop Episode Mix 2, BTS stands for Beat Transfer Service and I chose that because I thought that know one would use it, but apparently some cats out of NY State are calling themselves Beat Transfer? Is nothing original? Get your own name there can only be one.
The track of the week for you to chase down? Frankenstein - Slow Down Waterfall (Remix). Need a higher degree of difficulty? Find it from the American webmaster. Enjoy! …and Mr. Ano where are you?
Years ago, I had my list of all time rap records. At the time it was a list of albums, and I’m sure Tribe was on there, BDP, etc. but over the years I have forgotten who exactly was on my list. This is because I had one of those moments, one of those moments where you realize your philosophy was wick-wick-wack, definitely an eye opening experience if you will.
Back then I was working at a well known place inside a well known stadium (which recently had a name change). The names don’t matter, but what matters is that I had come in that day, excited to tell my co-worker my epiphany, for I had just made my list of the best of the best, and I felt it was comprised of strong selections, Rap Music’s “Must Haves”.
My friend is one of those types, a fellow person who digs the music, you know the ones, you meet them everywhere, and you have that feeling, that shared experience of the love for the music, you don’t have to speak it.
So, after many discussions about hip hop, I related my list to him, and he smiled and nodded at each and every one that I spoke of that day. What he said afterward has affected me to this day, and I live by these words.
Today I can’t remember exactly, word for word, what was said. I live it now, it is a part of me. Essentially, the words were this: You cannot name the “Best of the Best” because the “Best of the Best” is still to come. In other words, don’t make your top 10 list just yet, because the history of the music is still being written.
Now, this was well before the “Hip Hop Is Dead” ideology that’s going around today; we’re talking early nineties here. However, the philosophy of a living, breathing culture still exists, you just have to find it, and find it within yourself.
So the other day, well, it was the other week, I was standing in line at the local corner coffee shop. It was probably my afternoon coffee, the second and last coffee of the day for me. At that time of day, it usually isn’t too crowded in the shop, juxtaposed to the morning when there is a lineup out the door (serious coffee drinkers here). Usually, at that time in the afternoon, I can just stroll right in and be served a la de facto (just making ‘ish up there). On this day; there was one patron in front of me. Cool, waiting is no stress.
What happened next was not something you get to bear witness to everyday.
Let me set this up, flashback to that morning, I had no change for the man and took out my debit card with many apologies.
Enter the afternoon, same guy behind the counter, and what does the guy in front of me say? Something along the lines of, “Sorry, I don’t have any money, I will have to pay by credit card”…! Now, I’m sure the folks at the corner coffee store get this a bunch; debit cards, comp. cards (read: gift), credit cards. But this time, and bless him, the guy behind the counter said, “That’s ok, but you will have to sign for it with this really BIG pen”…! No joke, he reaches for this gigantic (read: oversized) pen and hands it to the patron.
Wouldn’t you believe it, the guy actually says ok to that and signs for it! (gotta love canada!)… SO, I’m already in tears, but not trying to show it, not only because I had empathy and really felt for this patron, but the situation was just so bizarre and real, that you couldn’t help crack a smile…
The closer?
After signing for it and handing it back, the employee asks the guy, “…Is that your real signature?”
So, the other day I was at the local corner store. I forget what I was there for now. Water? Throat candies? Something like that. I was in a very curious mood and I let my eyes scan the candy bar racks below the counter top. I scanned the usual suspects until my eyes stopped suddenly; I couldn’t believe what my eyes were relating to my brain, as my mind raced back fifteen or so years. Right there, about three rows down and far to the left of me I saw them. A box of Mackenzie Toffee, only the package only says Mack now, or did it always?
Fifteen or so years ago seems like a lifetime away now. It was summertime, and I was spending it at my grandparents and working for my next door neighbour doing odd jobs. That summer away from home, the only rap music I could get was “Push It” and I was craving something else besides “Push It”, but the only other thing was the likes of ”Stairway To Heaven”. In other words, I wasn’t exactly in a place to hear some hip hop.
Nonetheless, that was the summer of alcohol in plastic and toffee candy, and the great feeling you got from wacking the cardboard toffee box as hard as you could to break it into little tiny pieces. These days, they now give directions on the box, which I don’t remember from my youthful days.
The directions are on the sides, and due to laws that govern our society up here in the great big Northern area of your map, there are two languages on the box, English and French. So, “Mack A Smack”, and “Mack On Craque” are the messages that this box delivers.
Is our society so crack and heroin obsessed that they have to use it to sell this message to our children? is this “Scottish” and what the kids are into these days? I have no idea but it got a great laugh at the office.
One thing is for sure, it’s still the same toffee on the inside.
