Taj Abdul Randall aka Tizzy T was 1/2 of Seattle group Narcotik, along with MC C-Note aka The Note. Narcotik, part of the Tribal Productions family, released their debut album "Intro 2 The Central" in 1995. Taj died in a house fire on October 16th 2011. He was 36.
Life isn't supposed to end like this.
The last time that I saw my Uncle Dennis was at my Grandparents house, where he was living temporarily. I clearly remember walking in the door and seeing my Uncle Dennis standing at the end of the hallway. I think I said hi to him. I don't remember. What I do remember is that he didn't stop. Didn't say anything to me, just turned and started down the stairs. Gone was the Uncle Dennis that I knew as a child, built like a tree trunk, visibly strong in a natural way that seems to not exist anymore. Barrel chested with a full beard, in my child's mind my Uncle Dennis may as well have been Paul Bunyan. Gone too were the hours spent wrestling as a child with all of my uncles, Ben, Greg, Dennis, Steve, in the living room of the same house as where I last saw him. My Uncle Dennis was 40 when he died.
Life isn't supposed to end like this.
The "Intro 2 The Central" album is one of the most complete Seattle releases ever, in a way that most albums are no longer. With no distraction from spin-a-wheel-find-a-rapper feature appearances (other than Tribal mainstay and legendary God emcee Infinite) and a consistent vibe provided by Vitamin D and Topspin "Intro 2 The Central" packed 9 concise tracks worth of dope into it's cassette tape only format. With even a casual listen you can tell that Tizzy-T and C-Note knew exactly what they were doing in capturing a high density snapshot of what Central District living in the 90's was like. It is a fantastic goddamn album. Their collective talent and ability is staggering.
While commercial sales outside of the general 206 area may have eluded Narcotik along with any number of other groundbreaking Seattle groups, once again the lack of sales is not indicative of lack of impact. Trails were blazed. Methods were invented. C-Note and Tizzy T's vision in the early 90's resonated in the minds of men and women that have since continued to carve out a space for local Hip-Hop to flourish, spawning more artists who have stayed true to a particular Seattle style and aesthetic that the world at large is now paying attention to.
I never got a chance to meet Tizzy T and tell him how much his music meant to me as a fan. I never got a chance to ask him what he thought about the lasting impact of Narcotik's debut album. I never got a chance to ask him if he still wrote rhymes - or if he even wanted to record music anymore. Maybe what he laid down in the 90's was all he wanted to say, but I doubt it.
Contrary to popular belief, life is not like a movie. Sometimes you miss opportunities and can't get them back. Sometimes you don't get a chance to say goodbye. It's cruel, it's unfair, but it's true. As Tizzy T's friend since kindergarten and partner in rhyme C-Note said in the wake of this tragedy "Morale of the story...Always check on your folks. We can get back anything but time".
Taj Abdul Randall was an artist. He was a son, a brother and a friend. He will be sorely missed. My condolences to his family and loved ones.
I typically feel kind of weird about using this blog to promote my own work, but not this time. One of the cooler things that has happened this year is that I've been working with and assisting my brother The Notework aka The Note aka C-Note from Narcotik, part of the legendary Tribal Productions crew, with his video productions. In the last six months we've put together three different visuals for dope musicians here in Seattle.
Tilla V - Up, Up and Away
Fly Moon Royalty - In The Woods (Live at KEXP)
and our most recent project, Black Stax - Spell On You
Because of my particular focus on the era of Seattle hip-hop that spawned groups like Tribal Productions, this Black Stax project was a dream come true for me. Comprised of MC's Jace ECAj, Silas Black and songstress Felicia Loud, all three members have been putting in work in our scene here for a while now. I think the first music I heard from Jace and Black was likely a freestyle on a B-Mello tape that I'll have to dig up, then later through different incarnations in groups such as Blind Council, Jace & the 4th Party, Jasiri Media Group and the Silent Lambs Project.
Gene Dexter touches on this a bit, but I don't think the suggestion that Jace and Black are Shabazz Palaces before Shabazz Palaces is altogether inaccurate - an amusing comparison considering that Ish and Tendai of Shabazz were active in the scene at the exact same time that Jace and Black were.
Silas Black / Felicia Loud / Jace ECAj - Black Stax
To the particulars of the song, it is typical of the kind of magic that Jace, Black and Felicia Loud manifest when they combine forces. Over a crunchy, haunting musical backdrop provided by Amp Fire, all three members have the space to induce and summon verifiable spine tingling moments of their own. The songs semi unconventional arrangement of verse, sung verse, half verse and closing verse fits the overall vibe perfectly. This is not music made to conform or adapt to any perceived notion of what is likely to be accepted for pop consumption, and the truth of that unconformity is what you hear over the songs tidy 3:01 length.
Personally, I'm am beyond proud to have any role at all in being able to produce a visual representation of what I think is a fantastic song. The feeling of community, ancestry and kinship that we captured that day I think comes across perfectly in the video, which says a lot about my man The Note's direction.
For myself...I know the experience of shooting the video that day it is something that will stay in my mind and heart for the rest of my life.
"Got so much pride in them three numbers" - Stalley
"Gotta be true to yourself individuality always secures your fate" - Vitamin D
By means of an introduction to the topic of Townbiz, allow me to direct you an interview recently done at the Coolout Network's 20 year anniversary party held at the Crocodile Cafe. Conducted by local promotions guru Gene "Mr. Miyagi" Dexter and Sacha Starr, among others they spoke to J. Moore (who I was introduced to back in 1995 as Wordsayer from the group Source of Labor) and my man Larry Mizell Jr about the significance of the evenings festivities. While Mr. Dexter initially downplays his ability to form a "groundbreaking" question, he smartly opens up the door for J. Moore to drop some serious science about the history and journey our Northwest scene has taken these last two decades, making reference to a time where it was difficult to get hip-hop shows booked in and around Seattle.
When it comes to defining the difference between making music now and how it used to be, this fact is as similarly significant as are the finite increased costs of producing your own music 20 ish years ago compared to now. Stumbling blocks such as these, alternatively known at the time as "paying dues" are largely unknown in the current media climate. Imagine if you will the frustration of trying to carve out a career as a hip-hop artist where exists a teeming pool of people desperate to drink in just about any aspect of hip-hop culture, but held back from that audience by promoters and venue owners who were skeptical about putting on hip-hop shows, regardless of content, audience or the actual factual dollars that could have been made.
To that point, here are J. Moore's comments (you can watch the whole thing if you like, or fast forward to the 2:25 mark to get right to the healthy spoonful of knowledge):
"...All of the things that I may have done, It's not I, it was always done with the collective sense of we and for something and a purpose beyond just myself. So, it's always been my city first, my community, my crew, and anything that follows that.
...Seattle you know, 20 years later, it's still kind of pushing along and everybody is always waiting for something to break through, but I don't think it's a breakthrough thing. It's a thing about growth and just evolution and natural maturation. We're like a self sustaining ecosystem in our own environment here. We can do shows like this and events and have our own clubs and everything and be respected on an international level.
...We've gotta continue to recognize that Seattle is world class, and as long as you treat it that way from your own perspective and mind state then rest of the world will follow."
The man's MC name is Wordsayer for a fucking reason.
I've recently thought often about J. Moore's words, both with regard to our "scene" but also considering my own musical habits. As of late I have enveloped myself fully (save for the above referenced Salley mixtape and Big KRIT's new one - both excellent) in the a never ending torrent of quality Seattle music, and I have not wanted for quantity, quality or variation. For whatever direction my ears and id desire to take, I can find an artist from the 206 (no shots 425, 360, 253 - you get love too) to satisfy that particular desire. What does this mean? Should I impart some special significance to the music I listen to because it originated from the same area code as I did ? Yes as a matter of fact I should - and I do.
Maybe this is how it feels to be a New Yorker. Not like the gentrified, post Giuliani / Bloomberg faux New Yorker that J-Zone so eloquently rails against. I'm taking about the super obnoxious stereotypical loud and mouthy New Yawker - who's tunnel vision extends no farther than their precious five boroughs as a hard boundary for anything significant and worthy of recognition. You know, the assholes.
As much as I have an unhealthy amount of contempt for the New Yawker (mostly because of the Yankees), I am coming around to the idea of respecting their nearly delusional affection toward New York. I mean, without that kind of blind worship, how does someone like Papoose carve out even the most meager of careers, not to mention being lumped in with a bakers dozen of other artists who were going to "bring New York back" - whatever the fuck that meant. It's that kind of allegiance and affiliation, sometimes blind and sometimes not, that I am beginning to understand and appreciate.
Specific to our own situation, I think that right now within Seattle exists a large number of people who have a heartfelt yearning to embrace something that is unquestionably ours. Perhaps this is more emotional shrapnel from the theft of our Sonics, and for more on that particular issue I defer to the good people at Sonicsgate. Either way, I do believe that among other factors, within the crater of that void you will find a significant reason for why people seem to search for something, anything to bring us together, and right now that thing is music.
I thought that in part explains Macklemore's success, culminating with the recent three sold shows at the Showbox. Undoubtedly, his career has been one long in the making and born from tireless amounts of shows, music, media, etc., but I still believe that the particular emotional climate of our city plays a part. Consider the fact that that he and Ryan Lewis are able to get a predominantly 21 and under crowd to respond frantically to a song who's dualing subjects are a recently deceased baseball announcer (The Great Dave Niehaus) (not exactly Sexyback) and a 1995 Mariner team who's artfully recapped expoits are from a time when the average audience member was less than 5 years old. Why is that (c) KRS-One?
I also suspect some of reason for that response is a natural blowback from how disingenuous most popular music is currently. For a teenager looking for anything that resonates with even a hint of emotion, a song about cough syrup and pill addiction, or a song about the beauty of baseball and what Dave Niehaus meant to to us stands out as a beacon of light in comparison. Past those macroeconomic truths however, I still believe that what J. Moore says rings true. We are our own ecosystem.
The Seattle hip-hop scene is now in generational in it's longevity, and there are clear linear lines linking artists of our past to artists of our present. Certainly this occurs because artists who broke ground, broke moulds and paid dues in their past continue to be relevant. I'm not talking about relevant in the sense of putting in half hearted feature appearances and robotic repetition. I'm talking about relevance through progression of the craft. Perfection of the art form. Fearless innovation. Artists who continue to etch in stone their legacy by putting hard fought talent and abilities - again, acquired in a time period where there were existentially more costs to do so - on display for you and I to enjoy.
To that point, this whole post about the thriving ecosystem that is the Seattle music scene would be nothing more than sycophantic bullshit were the actual music not absolutely excellent. It is. And without a doubt I have railed against the sea change that has taken place with regard to music in the last two decades - the decreasing importance of a physical and purchased music product and the increased priority on free music, viral and social network marketing, blah blah blah - but without these breakthroughs there is simply not the freedom of access that allows this music to be heard and be spread.
Maybe I'm wrong, and my theory about some sort of city or region-wide yearning for togetherness vis a vie music is just some writer bullshit. Fine, but then let me then speak for myself. I have a fairly large music collection, and recently I've seriously contemplated dumping all of it, save for Seattle music, just so I can that much more easily keep this Townbiz shit at the forefront of my mind. I'm not saying that I would. But I'm saying that I could.
I feel legitimate pride in the successes and the progress of our Northwest musicians, and I could care less whether the rest of the world notices. Within this thing of ours, there now exist means for the artists to be successful and recognized simply on the strength of their resonation within our own region.
We don't need your approval or recognition. I am *invested* in this. Motherfucking Townbiz.
Courtesy of some kind words by my Internet Friend and fellow Franklin High School alumni Larry Mizell Jr, I'm finally going to get around to explaining my perhaps overcooked affinity for local Seattle rap collective, Tribal Productions.
A quick disclaimer, which also should serve as part of the reason I'm writing this. We're talking about music created and released locally before the advent of The Internet, so good luck finding an exhaustive compilation of material about any of the groups or the people involved anywhere else (I'm working on it). Furthermore, and this has more to do with a later part of the story, but at the time of the release of Tribal's most complete effort, Do The Math, Seattle's major media outlets were still giving a collective Moon Man shoulder shrug towards Hip-Hop in general and Seattle Hip-Hop in particular.
For example, in 1994 you had a torrent of releases of modern Hip-Hop classics that may not ever be equaled, and I highly doubt there were more than 2 songs played from any of these albums during the prime time drive time audience hours. As such, you relied on trusted sources like local magazine The Flavor, KCMU's Rap Attack show on Sunday nights and basic word of mouth and independent record stores to get an idea of what was out locally.
That being said, don't excuse me if I get any of the details wrong. Let me know. I'm all for making this the most complete and accurate history of this specific period of Seattle Hip-Hop there is, which means this will be a work in progress that is likely going to require more information that what I presently have.
Tribal Productions was comprised, Wu-Tang esque, of a multitude of other acts: Ghetto Chilldren (emphasis on chill with two L's), Sinsemillia, Narcotik, Phat Mob, Infinite, Sho Nuff, T.H.C., Union of Opposites, The Crew Clockwise, and probable more individual associations and groups that I'm not even aware of.
The first Tribal Productions album release (that I'm aware of) was the tape only Untranslated Perscriptions, put out in 1995, my senior year of high school. I was loaned a copy of the Untranslated tape from a friend, who passed it along as being "put out from some guys down at Garfield. It's dope". Shortly thereafter, I purchased my own copy down at Music Menu.
Previous to my introduction to Tribal Productions, I was still forehead deep in Hip-Hop culture - I absolutely consumed all of it I could get my hands on. The Source Magazine, Flavor Magazine, 4080 Magazine, Rap Pages, Rap City, YO! MTV Raps, KCMU's Rap Attack show. I mean everything. Hip-hop music was my life. That being said, nothing had previously come into my orbit that was from *here*. Obviously, Sir Mix-A-Lot was already a local and national force with the emergence of Posse on Broadway, prior to selling a bajillion copies of Baby Got Back, but this was different. Tribal Productions was compromised of guys my age, going to school just blocks away from where I was, and were putting out music that was actually really fuckinggood.
The one overriding quality that has always been at the forefront for me of that first Untranslated Prescriptions tape was just how fucking earnest it is, which is a quality that you still rarely find today in Hip-Hop. I'm not sure any other place could have produced songs like this. These are Seattle stories. In terms of the music as much as there is a Tribe Called Quest / Boot Camp Clik influence, there are elements of funk and deep soul that are undeniably West Coast textured. Genre definition notwithstanding, this is classic Hip-Hop production - timeless samples and fantastically chopped up drum breaks.
Pertaining to the lyrics, the Untranslated tape is an audio document of a group of young men's collective experiences living in a corner of the nation that was (and occasionally remains) largely ignored by the masses. While some consumers are unable to rationalize something that isn't East Coast, West Coast or Down South, this classic Seattle Hip-Hop stands outside these contrived definitions, proudly representing The Other.
I suppose the moment that I went from being a fan to being an advocate was in the aftermath of the 1998 release of "Do The Math". To my 21 year old brain, the idea that an album chock full of songs whose immense quality was so goddamn self evident (Who's Listening, Traffic, Equlibrium being the most towering examples) to me could not take the next step and become more than a regional release meant something was broken, because otherwise the math did not add up (pun definitely intended).
For a bit of perspective on the musical landscape in 1998, consider the state of affairs with A Tribe Called Quest. Regardless of what Jay Dee fanatics slash history re-writers may tell you, their 1998 release "The Love Movement" was mostly crap. I understand subjective evaluation of music is never black and white, but I cannot in good conscience declare that the post Midnight Marauders era of Tribe came close to equaling their first three albums. I respect them that much.
Amidst this period of decline, there was Tribal's Do The Math, producing music that contained the same spirit but with an even more varied amount of perspectives and voices.
Perhaps that variation that I find appealing, coming from a collective that represented a true kaleidoscope of perspectives, is was led to Do the Math not taking the next step outside of our region. Perhaps it was simply an economic problem of trying to distribute and manufacture music in a time when there were substantial costs to do so independently. I'm not the person best equipped to posit as to the why or how of it, and I'm not sure that it matters that much.
What does matter is that time marches on, and what was for a time the hot new release is no longer. The impression however remains, which is why I think it's important that this particular time of our city's Hip Hop history needs proper documentation. Tribal Productions, among a number of other groups that came out of this city that I'm not as personally familiar with, is a keystone piece of the foundation of what Seattle Hip Hop was and is to this day. While you can listen to any number of the excellent voices that are currently coming out of this city and hear the reverberations of what Tribal put out - here and here and more individual examples than I can link to in one sentences in good conscious - I wholeheartedly believe that proper acknowledgement is deserved and necessary. Hence, my advocacy.
By and large I don't know exactly how the various members of Tribal remember this time or their legacy. I think the fact that Vitamin D, Topspin, C-Note and others of the original Tribal members continue to be involved in making music is not only fantastic in and of itself, but also stands as a testament to the quality of the collective that these men have managed to make music a Job in 2010, which is not an easy road to travel.
The truth of it is that a significant part of the reason why I feel that acknowledgement is necessary for the guys in Tribal is actually about me. What continues to turn me from fan to advocate, here at the age of 33, is that I remember.
I remember the first time I hear the Untranslated tape, and wrapped up within the beauty of that music is the pride, naivete, ignorance and innocence of being 17 years old and comparatively untarnished by the press of adulthood. I wouldn't trade my place in life now for anything in the world, but that doesn't mean that I can't acknowledge the joy of being young.
I remember Tribal Productions because I remember myself.
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All the photos here courtesy of DJ Topspin's facebook page. Topspin was gracious enough to sit down with me for a couple hours this summer and talk history. As both a fan and as a person trying to document this work, it provided invaluable insight into some of the history of Tribal Productions that I didn't know and is incredibly appreciated.
A final reiteration that if I've gotten a detail wrong in the above post, let me know.
Also, an aside to mention that there are plenty of groups that existed in and around Seattle that someone could argue laid the foundation for Tribal Productions to exist. I'm just not that person. I don't have the knowledge or the connection. This is a story I feel compelled to tell because it's music I know and love. Do you feel like there is another story to be told? Then tell it! Or send me what you have and the music that was made and I'll tell it.
Special shout out goes to Jake One, who continues to keep Tribal Productions music in our collective consciousness. Not only in the form of his excellent two part interview with Mike Clark, former co-host of the KCMU Rap Attack show, that appeared on the Cocaine Blunts blog here, but also in the form of his excellent Town Biz Mixtape released earlier this year. Jake clearly knows this music and this history better than I do, and the fact that someone with his national and international reach still keeps it 206 like that definitely means something.
Couple reference links. Here is a short piece published by the Seattle Times in 1993 about the Ghetto Chilldren, along with 6 In The Clip, E-Dawg and Greg B.
Another Seattle Times piece, this one from 1994 and has the interviewer doing some of the worst transcription work I've ever seen. Sincimilla? C'mon son.
I'm not sure you properly and fully appreciate the statement that is being made by Kanye West's "Runaway" video movie, but don't fear, I'm going to help you.
At it's fundamental core, Hip-Hop has always been about skills. Historically this transcended all of the core elements of the culture - graffiti, DJing, MCing and break dancing. Over time, the role of the MC rose, the role of the DJ fell back, and as far as popular culture is concerned, breaking and graf are the strangers at the family reunion that no one acknowledges or cares to recognize as being part of our bloodline.
As far as MC's are concerned, this hard coded focus on ability translated itself into a constantly improving quality of music. However, along the way to the widespread acceptance of Hip-Hop as a viable genre to be programmed for on your FM dial, some of our tools and tenets were forgotten. Certain historical parts of the greater canon were rejected and definitions of vast importance were obscured. Not even in a technical sense (the absence of scratched hooks being my personal least favorite change), but in terms of sentiment. The superiority of skills gave way to the superiority of bank roll, superiority of car collection, as if this was an equal substitution.
Once skills stopped being the final determinate of importance, the door was opened for any number of trash ass "rappers" to come to prominence. Why bother working really really hard on making a really really good song when you can simply don the persona of Lil Swaggy Swag and posit that any arguments opposed to your status are rendered moot based on the size of the fleet of rental cars in your video?
Whenever I dip my toes into commercial radio these days and I hear what's being consumed by the masses at large, I often wonder what would happen if you Marty McFly'd any of the great icons of Hip-Hop from the golden years to now if they would even identify what is being labeled as "rap" currently as being something that descended from their lineage.
And we can't go backwards. As much as I appreciate what it means for someone of Buckwild's stature to release a vault full of "vintage" beats to a current artist like Celph Titled for a full length album who's sole purpose is to serve as an audio time machine, efforts like this (which definitely deserve to be applauded) are a blip on the national consciousness. Once there is rapping in a Kentucky Fried Chicken commercial, you can't take it back.
Which brings us to around to Kanye West's new long form video, "Runaway", and the music contain herein.
Prior to this, I honestly can't recall a Hip-Hop artist of his scale and import doing something that was so vastly unique. Kanye has always had a gift for introspection and self analysis, but listening to the lyrics of "Runaway" makes me think that he's not only speaking about himself any longer, but also the specific genus of male figure our excesses have spawned.
Think about this within the context of someone like Kanye West, who's previous crossover hit "Gold Digger" had suburban mom's and teens playing a happy little dance with the N word to the tune of 16,947,912 views on YouTube as of this afternoon and who knows how many actual record sales. When have we previously seen someone become mega famous to the level that Kanye reached, where people actively hate you without even knowing you, but love you enough to keep buying and keep talking, then turn around and eviscerate all the same boorish behavior that took you from artist to trending topic?
Perhaps you can look at Kanye's twitter feed and suggest that he's still as much of a megalomaniac as he ever was, but I would in turn suggest that obsessing over Napoleon's couch, or Queen Elizabeth's fine china, if done in the name of *art*, is EXACTLY what I want a super successful, super rich artist to do.
Consider on the other hand someone like Jay-Z, who continues to pump out anesthetized song after song, parceling out personal records like the exact opposite of Hansel and Gretel. As far as I know, has Jay even acknowledged that he's even married to Beyonce? Not simply on record, but in real life? Maybe Jay-Z doesn't want to be "artsy" and I suppose that's fine. But at a certain point, don't you start to question someone's desire to even be an artist when they don't reach for something more than? Especially, when they have all the access, the money, and the ability to make it happen?
Obviously, I loved the "Runaway" long form video and I accept that not everyone will. But even if you're not as inspired by it as I am, I would hope people recognize the value in the fact that Kanye is reaching for something. Something more than what Hip-Hop has even produced previously. I certainly wouldn't suggest that Kanye West was the one that turned the Phoenix to stone. That charge should be levied against much greater offenders possessing a great deal less talent. But I think he's trying to give rise to something truly new. Something singular. And for that we should say thank you.
I'm not going to make this a super long 2000 word "blog" post like usual. We'll keep this nice and brief. Today is Friday. If you're going out on Saturday, you should be at Hidmo at 8pm for Vitamin D's Rent Party.
If you'd like to read about why, let me point you to these two already written pieces in the Seattle Weekly:
If you'd like to hear and see why, let me point you to some audio treats:
Vitamin D - Let Go - From the 2010 "Born Day EP"
Ghetto Children - I'm An MC - from the 1995 Tribal Productions tape only release - Untranslated Prescriptions
Jake One - Home f. Vitamin D, The Notework, Maneak B & Ish from Digable Planets - From Jake's 2008 fantastic "White Van Music"
You can also download the entirety of the Bornday EP (released this year on March 22nd, Vita's b-day) here: http://www.sendspace.com/file/6ouaqo
I fully intend on doing my own recap of Vita's involvement in what I think is an absolutely crucial and somewhat overlooked period in the development of Seattle Hip-Hop at a later date. Quite frankly, documenting the Tribal Productions era is really the most important thing I could ever endeavor to accomplish with this site.
Right now however, here is my brief sales pitch on why Vitamin D's Rent Party is something you *need* to check out.
The truth is that being an artist isn't an easy life, and furthermore, making that choice comes with a significant cost. I know with certainty that decisions I've made in life have cost me opportunities I can't get back. While I've been tremendously fortunate to have ended up on the right side of things with a great family, job and a career of sorts, for most artists it's a different story.
Other than a paltry number of "beats" on a Myspace page I no longer remember how to access, my time as an "artist" was short enough as to negate the usage of the word as to define it. I gave it a try. What I didn't do is put in two decades of hard work into building the foundation of Seattle Hip-Hop. Vitamin D, along with a handful of others, did exactly that.
The truth is that sometimes the best art gets overlooked, and I would not hesitate to describe the music that Vitamin D has put out over the last twenty years as being some of the best - not only relative to Seattle in particular, but Hip-Hop in general. Obviously if financial success was the implicit result of artistic quality I wouldn't be writing this right now but for a variety of reasons, some of which I've touched on previously here, that isn't the case. In this instance, Vita needs a little support. I intend to do my part to provide it, and I would strongly encourage you to do the same.
If nothing else, put down $5 at the door for the privilege of downloading the absolutely excellent Born Day EP that is linked above. It's without question my favorite album of 2010. In the space of 24 refreshing minutes Vita illustrates everything that I could possibly say in words about the Why of the need to support this rent party. Do yourself a favor, admit that you're in your 30's just like I am, and make time to listen to an MC trying to deal with mature real life topics (Ok, I'll call it Grown Folk Shit - you more comfortable with that?) in a manner that is unquestionably dope.
Rest In Peace - Keith Elam AKA Guru from Gang Starr
“A man’s dying is more the survivors’ affair than his own.” - Thomas Mann
So it came to pass that on Monday, April 19th legendary MC Guru from Gang Starr died.
Most of the focus of the discussion at this point seems to revolve around the drama that was his hospitalization and the involvement of "super producer" Solar, who somehow was appointed (or appointed himself) Guru's legal proxy either before or while he was medically incapacitated. I highly doubt that we are ever going to get satisfactory answers about Guru's illness, his involvement with Solar, the fallout with DJ Premier and every other related issue about how Guru really felt about his legacy with Gang Starr - simply because of the nature of his condition.
So where exactly do we go from here? Especially when it comes to the legacy of an artist who seemingly, for reasons unknown, turned his back on the impact of the music he made as a part of a group.
It's easy for me to tell you that Gang Starr were the best rap duo ever. The more complex part is defining why.
In 1993 there was an attempt to re-classify Gang Starr's music as part of a larger alternative Hip-Hop movement that fuzed Jazz music and textures with rap - mostly by people that weren't listening to the already sizable catalog of hardcore east coast rap music that Gang Starr had assembled over the course of their previous three albums: No More Mr. Nice Guy, Step Into The Arena and Daily Operation.
Gang Starr - Take It Personal
Can you imagine someone releasing a song like this in 2010 as a single??? With a video??? Let's recap:
0:00 - 1:00 - Guru's girl is apparently playing him with some other dude. Said dude gets yoked up (by Big Shug no less) and is left hanging from the ceiling in her apartment.
1:00 - 1:40 - Some unidentified buster snitches to an attorney about the samples Gang Starr are using (I think the 12" thats held up is "Words I Manifest" but I could be wrong) and less than 45 seconds later the attorney's case is thrown out and the snitch is leaking brain juice all over the desk. And here you thought the legal system was ineffective...
2:03 - 2:21 - Around The Way Kid is upset Guru is "too busy making power moves" like getting photographed in front of a fake courthouse by fake reporters after exposing a fake sampling loophole - kind of a strange thing to get upset about but whatever. Anywho, Around The Way Kid is telling Guru's business "like a daytime talkshow" and for that transgression he gets snuffed up by the Gang Starr Foundation at large and is carried screaming off into the night, probably wishing he wasn't such a bitch.
Note the quickening pace of dudes getting snuffed. Also the plain intent of the song - telling the presumed audience of suckers / biters / wack MC's and other individuals worthy of scorn to in fact take the implied diss personally.
With the release of Guru's 1993 solo effort "Jazzmatazz, Vol. 1" along with Digable Planets "Reachin' (A New Refutation of Time and Space)", the convenient thing for journalists to do was play Dumb Person Math and lump Gang Starr, Guru's group, into that same category as Guru's passion project. Obviously some of Gang Starr's production was jazz loop based - see the 1990 "Mo' Betta Blues" soundtrack release "Jazz Thing" for the clearest example, but there was a vast difference between Premier's implementation of jazz samples and Digable Planets jacking the entire Blue Note Records catalog for their first album. Shit, I don't know that Digable Planets themselves wanted to be as "alternative" as they were branded, the blowback for which resulted in their criminally slept on 1994 release "Blowout Comb" (which was almost a Gang Starr tribute record in it's textures and themes), low subsequent sales, breakup and disappearance from the general public's collective radar.
Back to Gang Starr, it seems clear that the first song on their next release, 1994's "Hard To Earn", was a direct repudiation of any efforts to brand them as even remotely "alternative":
Gang Starr - ALONGWAYTOGO
First Verse:
What you need is more direction and get yourself some protection
I thought by now that you have learned your lesson
I'm stressin points and slammin all joints you call the real shit
Correct shit, you know the busta way you feel shit
Baby, I still don't think you understand
You lose the game, we get more props than Dan...Rather
And it don't matter 'cause when you flinch, you're weak
So i'mma step just to speak about the counterfeit, unlegit type of people
Those cellophane ones, the ones that you can see through
It's poetic justice 'cause I'm mad with a pact
So precise, my insight will take flight in the night
And in the daytime, 'cause I don't come up with corny rhymes
I'm too devoted to the concept of gettin mine
So here's the deal like Shaquille O'Neal If you don't know what you're doing, how the hell can you be real?
This is Criminal Minded. This is Road to the Riches. This is a classic on the day it's released. This is the timeless implementation of the hardcore Hip-Hop aesthetic the East Coast was known for.
Making timeless music would be what GangStarr did for the remainder of the 90's all the way till 2003 with the release of their last LP, "The Ownerz". Go through Gang Starr's catalog and you will find a purity and a purpose to every single song that is uncompromising - Hip-Hop that does not pander to the radio, that defines itself based on original style rather than what may be popular at the moment.
Specific to Guru, it's not as if he was technically the most amazing MC to ever get busy on the mic, but if the guy can pull of a line like: "Lemonade was a popular drink and it still is / I get more props and stunts than Bruce Willis" you can easily infer that he has more charisma than 100 of these half ass pooh butt rappers that are getting played 24/7 on your local radio station.
It's hard to talk about Gang Starr and lay out the reasons for why they are the best rap duo ever without sounding trite. I shouldn't need to tell you - this is really something you should already know. My indoctrination into rap music and Hip-Hop culture was in an era where everything was relative. You couldn't appreciate an artist like Big Mike without understanding the history of the Geto Boys. You couldn't get Redman without EPMD. You couldn't get Snoopp Dogg without knowing The D.O.C., N.W.A., Ice-T, etc. Knowing your history wasn't optional, it was *required*.
To that end, an MC from Boston and a DJ from Houston combined to establish their own self-referential standard for East Coast rap music - to a degree that won't be eclipsed anytime soon. Perhaps the challenge of living up to that same standard was part of the reason they stopped recording. If so, we're left with a body of work that is nearly unparalleled, regardless of whether or not Guru wanted to acknowledge the significance of the work that he and Premier put it, the music remains as a testament to that ideal. Raw, uncompromised Hip-Hop music. Gang Starr music.
I'll leave you with a couple of my favorite under the radar Gang Starr joints. First is Madlib's remix of "Just To Get A Rep", released in 2001 with a collection of other "unofficial" Madlib remixes. This song in particular takes Guru's already classic monotone delivery and pitches it down even further, combined with Madlib's somber production creates something that is far more melancholy than the original.
Gang Starr - Just To Get A Rep (Madlib remix)
Next is Gang Starr's contribution to the soundtrack of the 1993 film "Trespass" (which I saw in the theatre!) "Gotta Get Over". Some prefer the admittably fantastic remix by Large Professor, but at this moment in time I'll take the OG version for that classic Gang Starr sound.
Gang Starr - Gotta Get Over
Last is the video for "You Know My Steeze", the first single off of their 1998 album "Moment of Truth". Yes, it's an homage to THX1138. Yes, it's hilarious and dope at the same time. Nobody else could pull this off. No one.
