Drake Is Me aka Dude Bro Drizzy aka The One About White Guys Who Love Drake Too

Doin' the classic Cacausian Chicken-Wing Arm Flap, giving absolutely no fucks. You go, Drake. 

You can track the roots of Aubrey Graham's superstardom back to at least 2008. That was the year that fellow alpha it-factor's 50 Cent and Kanye West had their infamous, massively publicized "beef" in the press. 50 Cent, who's entire celebrity and musical subject matter is based off the uber-popular "street thug, gangsta rapper" subset - claimed that he would retire if Kanye West sold more copies of his (same-day releasing) new album than him. Kanye was going on album #3 in 0-8, 'Graduation'. His entire image was based off the very antithesis of Fiddy. 'Ye wasn't rockin' pink Ralph polos anymore (BUT THE FACT THAT HE ROCKED PINK RALPH POLOS AT ALL, YO) - he'd toned-down the soon-to-be personal trademark, "anti-gangsta rap" status; but was still super into fashion, super into being sensitive AF. So ,this so-called beef (I still hold claim that the entire thing was staged for sales, 'cuz duh) was pretty damn interesting because it was positioning the very ying and yang of modern-day Top 40 hip-hop. It was machismo verse emo, truly.

Well we all know how that battle ended. Kanye surpassed 50 Cent, but even more-so it was 100% a sign o' the times, to borrow fellow gender role-bender, Prince's album title. The era of 90's thru (most-of) the 00's reign of hardcore, street, gangster-rap was over. A new sheriff was in town, and he liked to wear his heart on his sleeve (or cardigan, if your 808's-era Yeezy). 

It's simple to see how it happened. The majority of the ACTUAL music-buying public was, well, hella white, bro. Like 80%, some sources have claimed (and it's probably exaggerated...but not by much). And they finally realized their purchasing power. So it's only fitting that the majority group of music-buyers would be attracted to, dare I say, desire, someone like themselves. And no, I'm not talking in terms of skin color - although that has proven itself an effective marketing tool, for obvious reasons. I'm talking about how white people are inside, not out. You know. The feels.

Let's play a game of "Who Doesn't Belong In This Picture?"...basically me if I was taking a snap with  Bron Bron and Dwyane Wade (idk if that's good or bad...probably bad but whatevs).

It's no secret that white people are a sensitive bunch. I should know. Yeah, there's still some John Wayne and Chuck Norris MF's out there. But for the most part, we're pretty emotional. And we're not good at hiding it. I think the word I'm looking for is...awkward.  Yeah, white people can definitely be pretty awkward. Basically, we're not known for being street-hard, hardcore fools. That's why we invented guns. And And conquered entire continents. (Yay, Imperialism!) Really though, for a decade-plus, white people (see: males) had spent their (probably easily earned, see: stereotype) money on music by artists who represented what they wanted to be. Now, in 2009 moving forward - they wanted to buy music from artists who represented what they truly were. 

And Drake's only gotten bigger with time. But it's lazy man logic to claim that Drizzy was uber-successful simply because of his upbringing in a white, lower-class household. He's obviously got raw talent, to boot (eh, Canada!). Melodies for days, flows, wordplay (when he wants to try....hate hate hate). There's a lot of ingredients to the recipe for Drake's success, let's be completely honest. But his upbringing definitely helps. 

Now, I'm a 100% Drake Stan - I can't lie. I'm obviously a little biased. But that's the entire point. You see, and it might sound completely crazy, but when I listen to Drake - I feel like he's ME. That already-mentioned lower-class white upbringing? Me. Those crewneck sweaters and cardigans? Me, too. Those awkward dance moves? Again, me. Drake's me, homie. And I'm not alone. It doesn't even need to be a white thing. Let's talk about all the sensitive MFer's worldwide. Millions of suburban, nerdy kids; fitted from Diamond Supply and J's to Abercrombie and Vans; fux with the dude. 

It might sound weird, but whenever Drake succeeds - I feel like it's ME who's succeeding. When he's out there in the 'Hotline Bling' music video, dancing super weird-style ands straight feeling himself? Oh yeah - that's most definitely me, too. When Drake's snapped by paparazzi courtside at the Raptors game in his latest OVO J's. When gossip spreads that Drizzy's dating Rihanna again - I'm right there sideline cheering him on, vicariously livin' it up. I chalk it up to just another notch on the success post for all the sensitive dudes out there. And if that's you, too; then grab a pom pom, my dude. Drake probably would (indeed, I just ended on a male cheerleader joke!). 

MY PERSONAL RE-'VIEWS' (if you think that's a bad pun, wait 'til you hear the album...)

Here's Drake being introspective on top of a building in downtown Toronto...

So, to use a current Drakeism, some-ting happened this past Friday. Nothing too major. Just global superstar and the living, breathing, walking embodiment of an internet meme, Drake, dropped his fourth studio album. You might've heard about it. It WAS called 'Views From The 6'. Now it's simply 'VIEWS' because, as Drake states on the album, he "turned the 6 upside down / that's a 9 now...". And turn "the Six" (wait, are we capitalizing it now? Is it a number? Or do we spell it out?), or Toronto (or "T-Dot" if your a Nineties head), upside down is indeed what Drake has done as of late. More so the entire continent of North America. Possibly the world.

The numbers are already out, and 'Views' is looking to clear platinum in first-week sales, easily. Birdman, the man of many internet memes including current "Respeck my name" 15-minute fame status, is grinning through his diamond-encrusted grill somewhere right now. Probably Miami. Getting a pedicure and a tattoo AT THE SAME DAMN TIME PLAYBWOY (and don't forget that Blood Red fingernail polish, yawhhurrd). Baby is just one of many "handlers" of the Drake/OVO cash cow, though. And, per usual, Drake takes to his songs to air-out greviences regarding such people who see him only as a paycheck. Or a career come-up. Or exposure. Or romantic interest. Or all of that - and then some more. That's not even his REAL circle of friends and family; who Drake famously keeps close at all times.

Regarding that same Drake/OVO cash cow - you can't expect someone to switch-up a winning gameplan. As the old adage goes; if it ain't broke, don't fix it - and Drake's hardly ever needed a tune-up, let alone actual repairs. It's eerie the amount of success he's had; and Drake will be the first to let us know, that he knows, that we know. He's possibly the most "meta" rapper, ever. Definitely of the millenial generation. So, of course, Drake and his camp are self-conscious of the OVO brand and realized the recipe for success and stuck to it. That recipe - from the seemingly-random release of Soundcloud track looses, using internet memes (and it's coinciding social media effect) to their full advantage promotion-wise, the specific collaborations and extensions of OVO-branded artists and influencers; to the ambient, empty-space sounds and infectious melodies and hooks, mixed-in with self-referential, over-sharing lyrics. Oliver North, the defecto second-in-charge of October's Very Own, has it all down to a science. And the results, well as the Jigga man would say, "numbers don't lie". They really don't. And when your name is being mentioned in the same rarefied air (sales/chart-wise, anyways) as musical artist legends like Elvis and The Beatles; well, YOU KEEP MAKING MORE OF THAT SHIT MY DUDE.

Panties coming off in 5...4...3...2....

So when people complain that Drake's doing nothing new on 'VIEWS', I simply ignore them. I happen to really, reeeeally enjoy everything that Drake's put-out so far. I like that I can expect the same type of subject matter and sounds with each new release. Drake's always talking about knowing his worth - but it's his limits that Drizzy possibly knows best. He's always leaned more towards the R.Kelly side of urban music, instead of the Jay-Z side. At least, musically. When Drake was first introduced to the masses, his lyrical prowess was on full display. He collaborated with fellow up-and-coming wordsmiths like J.Cole and Kendrick Lamar frequently. But as Drake released major project after major project, the "6AM In Dallas" songs became less and less frequent - while the "Housatlantavegas" joints moved to the forefront. Unfortunately, early-Drake lyrical habits like Disney-level cheesy wordplay ("wear so many chains / they call me Chaining Tatum") have survived on 'Views', but only to an extent. Still, you can expect to have a couple cringe-worthy listening moments with 'Views'. Thankfully, #hastag rap is nowhere to be found.

Speaking-of Jay-Z, Drake only moved-away from his lyrical influence - the Jigga man's business acumen was, still is, and always will be Drake's primary role model. And with one billion dollars in the bank (including his Bey-Bey, obviously) - I think Drake's made the right mentor choice. Jay-Z has also, quite famously, refused to stray from his core subject matter (I label it in my mind under "Jay's Pyrex Fantasies"). Ten-plus albums, Jay's still spitting' verses about cooking crack and wearing expensively-gaudy AF watches. And he's touted as a lyrical genius. Granted, this is a debate that deserves it's own think piece. The short-end, though, is that both artists have realized their core subject matter - and they work within the space created by that subject matter.

Both Jay and Drake have found "different ways of saying the same thing", pretty much. 'So Far Gone' was Drake at his most "awh, shucks" moment - the purest "fame freak-out" that he's ever been. It was Drizzy's most-innocent album, for sure. 'Thank Me Later' was Drake worried about being successful, living up to the MAJOR amount of hype that was created around him. Which meant a LOT of "safe" records. Let's just say that 'Thank Me Later' is the album you'll have the best chance of hearing at the super-market next time you're out buying groceries. 'Take Care' was Drake maturing. The growing pains were over, and he'd started to realize his potential. This was the time period where Drake truly took-over the rap game...and pop music to an extant. Drake continued this theme of Andy Warhol-ish "art-pop" with a 90's rap-baby twist on 'Nothing Was The Same'. Then there's the 'IYRTITL' and 'WATTBA' mixtape releases. The dual-emotion records of pain & anguish, success & excess.  Drake was growing-up. He wasn't the new kid on the block anymore. And now, there's 'Views'. What this album will be remembered in the Drake discography remains to be seen. But as of right now, it's an artist celebrating continued financial and musical success, while struggling with continuing to remain in possession of the elusive "musical Midas touch", so-to-speak. Drake seemingly handled one of the biggest attempts at chinking his armor, "Rap Ghostwriter-gate", with ease. It's a different era of rap-listener - one who's experienced the smoke-and-mirrors and realizes that one musically successful man is not an island. I mean, OF COURSE Drake has help with his records. Astoundingly, and probably causing a few old rap-heads to choke on their dinner, the music-buying public hardly batted an eye. Or maybe it was the art of mis-direction. Drake's definitely a magician; regardless of wether it's because he distracts against his haters with the lightning-fast rate of sold-gold releases ('Hotline Bling' , the biggest song of Drake's carrier thus far, WAS A SOUNDCLOUD THROWAWAY TRACK PEOPLE) or if he's truly just THAT damn talented.

Basically, the millions of people listening to 'Views' this weekend are in for more of the same ambient, oversharing and emotional Drake. Which is goddamn delicious the way it is. It's just a little older. And with a reeeeally well-manicured beard.  So don't get your musical panties in a bunch when I expect to order the same damn thing next time.

Here's Drake being introspective in A GODDAMN ROLLS ROYCE MY DUDE. There's a box of Kleenex right outside the camera lens' frame. It projects nifty stars too. 

A lot of speculation
On the monies I've made, honeys I've slayed
How is he for real? Is that nigga really paid?
Hustlers I've met or, dealt with direct
Is it true he slay the beef and slept with a tech?
What's the position you hold? Can you really match
A triple platinum artist buck by buck by only a single goin gold?
Roc-A-Fella ship fold, and you're left out in the cold
Is it back to charging motherfuckers 11 for an O
For the millionth time askin me
Questions like Wendy Williams, harrassin me
Then get upset when I catch feelings
Can I get a minute to breathe? And in that minute you leave
While I'm looking at my Rol' ice spinnin' on my sleeve
Ughh, nice watch, do you really have a spot?
Like you said in Friend or Foe and if so, what block?
What you doin in L.A., with Filipinos and ese's
Latinos and Chevys, down by Pico with Frederico
I answer all your questions but then y'all got to go
Now the question I ask you is how bad you wanna know? BLAOW!



....I miss Hov.

Jansports, Incense, and Blunts In The Parking Lot: A Young, Caucasian Backpacker Rap Fanatic's Experience At Rock The Bell's ATCQ Reunion Show / Hip-Hop Festival in Southern Cali, Summer 2004:

I was supposed to be at the Wu-Tang Clan reunion at Rock The Bells in Southern California a few months before. I was all of eighteen-years-old; having recently graduated high-school and purchased my first car, a Volkswagen Corrado. I was sitting outside my parent's house in my dark-green VW Corrado with my hands on the wheel, car keys in my lap. My parents had just forbid me from attending the concert and weren't looking like they were gonna relent even a little. I was (apparently) too young to drive that far of a distance on my own, according to my mother (and mom always calls the shots, at least in MY family). "But moooom!! (high-pitched, whiney teenager voice)...this show is going to be LEGENDARY. They mighty NEVER perform as a unit again!!!" My pleading was completely worthless - my parent's decision had already been made-up. "There will be other Wu-Tang Clan shows, Eric", my father dismissively said. Sometimes, parents truly just don't understand. ODB would be dead a few months later - dying of a tragic cocaine overdose on the same date of the next Rock The Bells concert festival AFTER that fateful Wu-Tang reunion. This time, A Tribe Called Quest was reuniting for their first West Coast appearance in six years, since The Love Movement released. And there was no fucking way I was missing it for the world.

I couldn't drive though, obviously. That shit didn't magically disappear in the four or so months since that infamous Wu-Tang Reunion-slash-final ODB show ever. That RTB founder Chad Whatever would transform that show into an eventual live-performance DVD; which just twisted the knife deeper into my side. So yeah - I guess I'm still not over that. BUT, back to my transportation woes - I ended up taking the hour-half plane ride down to Anaheim, where my friend was there to meet me. He was my ride-or-die, and we were both pretty huge Tribe fanatics. Borderline obsessed. Well, I can only personally vouch for myself and I was pretty deep into the ATCQ aesthetic, mythology and music. Especially the music. And the personalities. Q-Tip? GTFOH. He's like the rap game She's All That. Sure, he's nerdy AF. But let that nasally voice age like fine wine for a few spins on the turntable and you start to hear the poetry in motion. Mixed with those jazz samples; the horns, the saxophones, THOSE DRUMS - damn near unbeatable. Especially when you also add a little dash of Phife Diggy. You see, Phife gave Tribe the edge it needed. Even though homie was damn near the size of a 10-year-old boy, Phife backed it all up with confidence and swagger for days. But still, a little nerdy too. All these fools weren't making any America's Most Wanted episodes anytime soon (90's!!!). Or even America's Least Wanted (90's wordplay jokes!!!). SO ANYWAY....A Tribe Called Quest is basically amazing. And they haven't been performing much by 2004. Times were trife, to borrow another infamous QueensBridge rap group. Bitterness, resentments had festered for far too long. But apparently (i.e. a big bag of cash) the three-man group (sometimes four SHOUT-OUT TO JAROBI WHATS GOOD FAM I AIN'T FORGET YA) still had some gas in the proverbial tank to soldier-on for what-was-thought-but-eventually-future-proved-untrue the first, and last, ATCQ show ever. I mean, they were already sorta broken-up and Q-Tip was going through his art-and-jiggyness-blend-shit phase. But that was (thankfully) in the past and everybody in Tribe (even Jariobi, yo!) was ready to rock the mic in Anaheim; in a hot-ass parking lot with the Angels' stadium in the background.

Like I said before - I was a fresh-faced and newly-turned 18-year-old. Who had only just started digging deep into the crates of hip-hop culture and everything it contained. Which was, to say the least, a fuckload. Teenagers go through phases, and I was no different. Musically, it was 100% hip-hop. And let's just say that my The Northface backpack was strapped-on pretty damn tight at that point in my life. Lots of Pete Rock, Preemo, Dilla. Every Outkast album and B-side, ever. The first couple The Roots LP's. And I can't forget the Wu-Tang Clan, especially Ghostface Killah (raise your W's up!!). But A Tribe Called Quest was the guiding light of it all. And now I was going to be able to see them live, finally. I didn't think it'd ever be possible. Back then, I'd written a rap-show bucket list, and ATCQ was #1. To say the least, I was pretty juiced. But there was a litany of groups to get-through first - Rock The Bells was a festival. And they didn't slouch on the line-up, either. First-off, they had two stages. Remember (that means you, live-show-and-festival babies) - this was at a point in Rock The Bell's history when the founders and their organizers were still wrapping their heads around how to put-on a major rap-only music festival. Chad Whatever had just moved his Rock The Bells showcase from small clubs on the Subset Strip in downtown Los Angeles into a full-fledged, multi-stage, major attendance event. So there were some kinks. First-off - RTB hadn't yet made a deal to host their festivals at the NOS Events Center in San Bernardino which could fit enough drugged-out ravers and stoned backpack-rap heads into it's grounds to fill a county jail. So the 2004 ATCQ Reunion RTB was held in the Anaheim Angels Stadium parking lot. Which sounds great, in theory. But combine that asphalt with thousands of sweaty, drunk-and-drugged people, and San Bernardino's notorious weather with it's high temperature. It's a goddamn disaster in-the-making. But once we got inside the stadium (and past it's lethargic, ambivalent, I-dont-get-paid-enough-for-this-shit security personnel) - the rush of hearing familiar-but-faint boom-bap raps and running over to the stage erased ALL the bullshit.

Yes, it was hot. Extremely. But so was the music I was hearing in my eardrums, and there was a LOT of it. Seriously. We realized that the group would have to make some tough choices. All those amazing beat & rhymes couldn't possibly be contained to a single stage. Which meant that different rappers would be performing their sets at the same time, on two different stages. This meant sacrifices would need to made. But for the most part, my fellow breakbeat fiends and myself managed to experience watching our favorite musical artists perform live. These included Cypress Hill and their inflatable buddha, ganja smoke clouds, and green stage lighting. Supernatural proved for the thousandth time why he's the best pure freestyle-rapper in the world - he randomly included various objects and words thrown on-stage during his performance that's always a 100% crowd-pleaser. And this particular crowd needed pleasing now, more than ever. That's because moments earlier on that fateful date in November, 2004 - literally during the Rock The Bells festival - it was announced that ODB had tragically passed-way. Yes, hip-hop's resident-court-jester would make his audience laugh never again. The Wu-Tang is probably second to only ATCQ in terms of their importance and impact on underground rap music and culture. With that being said, the rest of the day was full of various ODB tributes, memorials, BIC lighter-arisings, and the like. Whatever anyone could do to alleviate the grieving over ODB's death - there was still a large portion of the RTB festival left and the show must go on; in this case, quite literally. And so it did. My friends and I spent the rest of the day smoking blunts, drinking tall cans, and watching all the ODB tributes and rhyme showcases with much fervor. As if the Tribe reunion wasn't enough, Ms. Lauryn Hill herself made a special appearance. As I said before, some sacrifices would have to be made. Unfortunately, in my young musical inexperience; I chose to leave Jaylib's set after only ten minutes or so and then my friends and I rushed over to the main stage to watch Mr. Pimp His Ride with the mouthful-of-gravel giggles himself, Xzibit (he was reuniting with Tha Alkaholiks, yo! THE LIKS COME ON FAM!). I can come-up with a thousand excuses, but nothing will ever make-up for that mistake of watching half of X-to-the-Z over Jaylib. Because one-half of Jaylib was Top 5 DOA hip-hop producers, ever. His name was J.Dilla. In present-day 2016, Dilla's a rap GOD. But in 2004, the only people who recognized Dilla's unique abilities were his fellow musicians. I was familiar with the name, but the fact that J.Dilla was responsible for most-all my favorite rap songs ever, well, I hadn't connected the dots yet. Nor had the rest of my fellow caucasian head-nodders. But I HAD realized the importance of ATCQ on my life and musical tastes. So what happened after that ill-fated Jaylib/Xzibit+Liks performance was unlike any I'd experienced yet in my young life. Q-Tip, Phife, Ali Shaheed Muhammaed...AND EVEN JAROBI FTW. They were all there. The set started-off kinda slow - lots of discussion about their various interactions with ODB over the year, etc. I started to cringe. Was this "it"? Did I drive all the way down to SoCal from Oakland, for THIS? My teeth started to grind, and not from copious amounts of uppers. But when you fall-in-love with a musical artist/group, there's obviously some expectations. Some of these, the artists can't even begin to fulfill. I'd been building-up the hype for watching a live ATCQ performance for what seemed like decades. So it's safe to say I was starting to get antsy and worried - and it wasn't the shit-ton of blunts I'd been taking puffs on all damn day already. But then it happened. Tip was saying some friendly audience call-and-response banter to the crowd, and then he mentioned that Ali Shaheed Muhammed was queuing up 'Check The Rime'. Those familiar horns went-off just as Tip had timed his jump-into-the-air-and-swing-arms-up-and-down. The crowd went crazy - that shit was amazing. Tribe then proceeded to knock every single of their classics out with the energy of men possessed. And I was right there to experience it all. It was one of those pivotal moments in a person's life that makes for perfect grandchildren storytelling material. I was 18, with the world 100% in front of me. Now it's 2016, and twelve years have passed since that A Tribe Called Quest show in Anaheim. I've attempted to find actual video footage of the event and, quite shockingly, none exists. Anywhere. There's multiple pictures included here, but it seems that archival footage - even a damn RTB 2004 ATCQ Reunion flyer - has been lost to the sands of time. Fortunately, my mind's eye remembers. And just like A Tribe Called Quest's legacy and influence, that shit's forever.

Two-Minute Music Musings: Pete Rock/Camp Lo's 80 Blocks From Tiffanys Part 1

If anyone deserves to be on that infamous hip-hop milk box "Missing" alert on the side of the carton - it's those two brothers seemingly time-frozen in the 90's New York rap scene, Camp Lo. The duo - Geechi Suede and Sonny Chiba, respectively, are well-known through-out the rap underground for their debut album 'Uptown Saturday Night', which released towards the beginning of the second-half of the 1990's in 9-7. 1997 was a weird year for rap music. 2Pac had actually fulfilled his lyrical claims of a sudden death at a young age - and everyone was still in complete shock. The Notorious B.I.G. was still alive at the year's beginning - but he wouldn't survive to see is end with the ball-drop at Times Square in December. Puffy Combs and Suge Knight were both grasping for power straws on each's individual coast - with mixed results. Puff went with shiny suits, glitz, and well-known 80's samples while Suge went 100% rough-and-rugged - both with his label's choices in music as well as his personal gulliness. Basically, hip-hop was lost and in desperate need of a guiding light (which Jay-Z and Dre/Snoop would eventually provide) and Camp Lo's excellent debut was lost in all the chaos, glitz, and glamour. Which is a shame. Because 'Uptown Saturday Night' is banger-for-banger able to compete with any other hip-hop album that released in that 90's timeframe. The 'Lo never followed-up Uptown Saturday Night, for reasons that are never quite explained. No matter. Fast-forward to 2016 (it actually started a few years ago) and the 90's rap-revival is in full-swing, 100%. Rap musicians new-and-old are starting to benefit from the additional exposure, especially after newcomer Joey BadA$$ and his Pro Era crew came on the scene back in 2012. 90's producers are in-demand once again, and newer producers are following old-school ques and techniques. One of the "holiest of holy" of these 90's-era beat-makers is Pete Rock, aka Soul Brother #1. Pete Rock was never a slouch (or disappeared like Camp Lo) on the boards in terms of frequent work - and his instrumental series, Petestrumentals; as well as his Soul Survivor series and so forth; have gave him enough work to stay busy. But this 90's-rap trend has given Pete Rock much more attention than usual, and he's decided to share the wealth. The stars aligned however they did, and so New York's Mount Vernon & the South Bronx came together to collaborate on a quasi-album-slash-mixtape, 80 Blocks To Tiffanys. The 80 Blocks... tape is a blend of new Camp Lo vocals and old Pete Rock productions - several of the tracks are well-known tracks Pete did in his 90's group with CL Smooth such as 'On Ice (freestyle)', 'Ha', 'Lumdi', and 'Searching'. It works, amazingly well. In-between the classic Pete Rock cuts, there's some original production as well. There original tracks complement the old-school vibes present for the tape's entirety. It's Pete Rock - expect lots of horns, low baseline grooves, and extremely hard-hitting drum patterns. Geechi Suede, and especially Sonny Chiba's vocal delivery and just the sound of their individual voices works superbly over 80 Blocks...'s production. So well, in fact, that I constantly found myself wondering why the two guys never pushed their efforts' further back when Camp Lo first started. I guess we'll have to save the answer to that particular question for next time. As for right now, the answer to the question of wether 80 Blocks From Tiffany's fulfills all of this 90's music fanatic's desires is a resounding HELL yes.

THE CULT OF JAY DEE: Dilla Tribute Show Review At The New Parish in Downtown Oakland

Detroit came to downtown Oakland last night. And local venue The New Parish (looking more and more like The Fox Theatre's second cousin every weekend it seems) played host. The show was officially entitled "The Kings Court Tour" - except that the King of THIS particular court has been dead for a little over a decade now. In 2005, James Yancey; also known the entire world-over as J.Dilla; tragically passed away from Lupus at the still-young age of 32. What made it worse was that for a decade-plus BEFORE that ill-fated time period in 2005, Dilla had been putting in major dues within the music industry and was mastering his craft; preparing for a (hopefully) fruitful music career. And Yancey was finally starting to reap the rewards of all that hard-work producing for major-label artists, himself, and his personal group, Slum Village. Until time stopped on that cold day in February 2005. Now, in 2016, Slum Village (and "King's Court" fellow performers Phat Kat and Guilty Simpson) are all that remains of the active musicians that J.Dilla had his own personal fingerprints on (not counting major-label artists such as Tribe and De La). And even then, Slum Village; a once-trio, had been whittled-down by age and health to a sole original member in performer T3. The other two OGs - already mentioned Dilla, as well as fellow Conant Gardens dweller Bataan - have both passed tragically in their thirties already. And other constant member Elzhi (who joined AFTER Dilla left the group full-time in 2001) wasn't exactly repine' SV anymore, either. Indeed, T3 was looking somewhat lonely up there on stage. I imagined before the show that opening-act emcees Phat Kat and Guilty Simpson (who straight BURNED through his excellent underground catalog...) would substitute themselves for Jay Dee and Bataan's vocals. This did not happen. It also exposed how little I actually knew about the ever-changing game of musical chairs (literally) that Slum Village likes to participate in. As stated, Slum Village started as a trio out of Conant Gardens; an impoverished project/slum (hence the group name) on Detroit's Eastern Side. Jay was (obviously) the man-behind-the-boards (and his beloved, infamous MPC) and Bataan provided the group with it's "wildcard" role-playing member. Bataan was troubled with drug addiction to crack-cocaine, though - an affliction that would eventually be the cause of his tragic early demise a few years after Jay Dee in 2009. And then there was T3 - the emcee responsible for the strong-yet-steady (and never overpowering) vocal delivery and verbal assault on most-all of SV's catalog. And just like his style - T3 has become Slum Vill's constant, as well. As mentioned, T3 brought along some fellow Detroit-dwelling friends to Oakland too; including Phat Kat, Guilty Simpson, and Black Milk. I arrived near the end of Phat Kat's set, and honestly didn't really ever feel any regret for that. Not that Kat's an incapable lyricist. It's just that his charisma was very unbalanced; plus he continued to verbally admonish the crowd for being "a straight sausage-fest" and continually asking where all the "bitches were at" in the building. We get it, Phat Kat - backpacker rap isn't exactly a girl's best friend. Much like the worlds of battle-rap and sneaker-collecting, backpacker rap music is most-definitely a man's world (word to JB). But it's slowly becoming more viable for the female gender and there were definitely ladies in attendance. But the ratio was still overwhelming guys. And when your sitting in a hot and stuffy, compact sweatbox-of-a-venue like The New Parish - I get that standing shoulder-to-shoulder with all dudes isn't the greatest. Luckily, it wasn't to the point of distraction - and Phat Kat continuing to mention this fact did more harm than anything else to the "vibe" of the night's performance. Phat Kat DID know how to execute a proper segway for Guilty Simpson to come-out and start his set. Guilty kilt it (no Scots) 100%; to the point that nobody cared they were almost hand-in-hand with the sweat-soaked, hairy guy next to them (probably me). Guilty Simpson has benefited handsomely from his involvement with Jay-Dee towards the end of Dilla's life. Simpson had (what seemed like) an endless supply of Dilla-esque beats; and indeed - if the beat wasn't produced by Jay Dee himself, then it WAS produced by someone to sound exactly LIKE Dilla. And this sub-world within hip-hop - the "cult of Dilla" if you will - has developed into it's own lucrative cottage industry. Independent music labels (no matter how small or large in scope their involvement was) like Stones Throw Records have made a killing off of J.Dilla's old catalog and productions. Much like fellow rap-music-martyr Tupac before him, Dilla left behind an ample amount of material in both finished and rough-draft forms. His work ethic was impeccable - perhaps even moreso than 2pac's due to the nature of a beatsmiths creation process as opposed to an 100% lyricist. Vinyl record-collecting has also shot into the stratosphere in terms of popularity lately - it completely DOUBLED it's yearly sales size in 2015 - so there's literally piles of 12" pressed vinyl singles, special edition EP's, and everything remixed, remastered, and re-re-RE-released one more time for good measure. Not that any of the artists under the Dilla umbrella are actually in the wrong. Indeed, Dilla himself would probably approve if he could be asked right now. And beside his infamously named "Ma Dukes" of a mother, if anyone should reap the benefits of the J.Dilla financial gravy train than it should be T3/Slum Village. And a whole lotta gravy left the train station last night. The New Parish was packed shoulder-to-shoulder; maxed-out with a mixed group of street-dwelling corner boys and suburban, soccer-playing and backpack-wearing white kids. Some were OG's like me, most were fresh-faced neo-soulphytes that probably discovered Dilla around the time Donuts came-out. Instead, they're live-and-in-the-flesh Dilla-esque artist of choice is Black Milk - who was easily the night's breakaway star. A prospect of J.Dilla when he was alive, Black Milk is basically Detroit's backpack rap golden child (and onetime possible savior). He was eager to make a name for himself after Dilla passed and handed him the mantle. Instead of proving to the audience exactly WHY Dilla chose him, Black Milk played an entire set "as if we in the basement playing beats for myself, y'all...that cool? You guys gonna rock with me??!". And rock with Black Milk for his 45-minute set, we did. He played weird loops and eccentric drum patterns, mixing all the rich tapestry of music that Detroit's served-up over the decades. He went from soul, to funk, to early Detroit house and then gritty net-soul that we were all in attendance for. Black Milk also guest-DJ'd for both Phat Kat and Guilty Simpson. Newcomer DJ Will (sp? different name? crowd was so f'n loud, smh...) provided assistance on the 1's and 2's for Slum Village. All-in-all, the night was a semi-memorable one fueled more by nostalgia than by current music. And nostalgia sells. T3 stated to the crowd at one point that Dilla's personal favorite SDV track of all-time was 'Get Dis Money', and he had a record label entitled 'Jay Stay Paid.' So yeah, I think Dilla would probably nod his head in approval. Just definitely not as hard as I nodded mine last night when his group rocked the mic on a surprisingly warm, full-moon lit night in downtown Oakland.

Consequences, Rhymes, and Strife: ATCQ's Almost-Classic Fourth Album

In the nuclear family of A Tribe Called Quest, Beats, Rhymes, and Life is the middle child. Unlike it's first-and-last-born musical siblings, BR&L doesn't really get as much attention from the general public for it's accomplishments. Even the addition and resulting creative shot-in-the-arm that producer J.Dilla (as 1/3rd of production team 'The Umma') gave the album couldn't save it from a legacy of relative obscurity compared to much-worshipped Tribe LP's The Low End Theory and Midnight Marauders. Agreed, those two albums (and, one could argue, People's Instinctive Travels) are essential, timeless classic of the hip-hop genre. But Beats, Rhymes, and Life was perfect for what it was - an album created during a group's gradual and eventual decline...but still working at a somewhat-high level. Like Mike on the Wizards. I challenge you to find a skipable single track on BR&L. Double dare. Also, the album is just so goddamn FUN. A Tribe Called Quest started this journey of theirs on a mostly-fun tip with People's Instinctive Travels... - that almost childlike joy and sense of innocence (somewhat) that the genre of hip-hop started with itself - and they were just getting back to that, essentially. Q-Tip and the rest of the crew (but especially Tip, as he put in a LOT of timer & energy production-wise as well as lyrically and anything else needed to move the group's efforts forward in the public spectrum) were starting to feel the effects of all that time on the road doing both touring and making the promotional rounds; as well as making music videos, taking photographs, and all the other necessary tasks of a major label album release in the early nineties. There was also starting to be a lot more group in-fighting (which would continue to fester within the group, see: Michael Rapport's also-named Beats, Rhymes, and Life documentary). Half the decade was over when Beats, Rhymes and Life dropped in 1996 - a time where hip-hop artists ion general had started to stop focusing on what made their era so golden, in pursuit of platinum and (eventually) diamond-level record sales. These artists stopped giving to the culture and started only taking from it. This topic was addressed that same year by fellow Native Tounges' members, De La Soul, on their seminal classic Stakes Is High. Tribe went the different, less serious (and totally fine) route. Their leader needed a surge of inspiration - and Tip found it in a young producer from Detroit with a seminingly unlimited amount of musical potential named James Dewitt Yancey. Yancey's artist name/general nickname was J.Dilla - the (now) much-worshipped underground sales sensation. But Yates didn't have a congregation yet in 9-6. Back then, he was still trying to get himself and his group of neighborhood friends and rappers, Slum Village, off the literal pavement still. (SEE: BBC Radio 1's EXCELLENT radio program 'The Story of Q-Tip' for more on Tip and Dilla's relationship beginnings in his own words) And so, here came Q-Tip with an "S"-on-his-chest to save the day (and the admiration of suburban-dwelling, Diamond Supply Co. wearing, soocer-playing white kids everywhere). Dilla, plus Tribe co-members Tip and Ali Shaheed, joined forces as production trio "The Ummah" and create the expansive sonic environment that makes-up 'BR&L'. The album's recipe was basically a mixing of the "classic Tribe" soundscape - with some Dilla-esque production tweeks. The trio decided to create an album less of the jazz-rap variety - though jazz elements definitely still remain - and go with something a little more soulful, yet updated. Basically a precursor to the net-soul atom bomb that Dilla and his contemporaries were about to drop on the general public via individual efforts; as well as together in the super-production team The Soulquarians. And I think this switch-up of production style (which, remember, was still ahead of it's time by a couple years) is where most of the listener's "shock value" comes from - that and the addition of a third emcee in Q-Tip's younger good cousin, Consequence. Yes - there was now a third voice in the crew, as "unofficial" as Consequence's status was claimed to be by Tip himself at the time. More than a mere feature artist - Consequence shows-up on at least 3/4th of the album's cuts. And it;s not necessarily a bad thing. Cons is himself a competent lyricist. In fact, I personally feel that he adds a sense of energetic vibrancy that, as mentioned earlier, was lacking. Sure, Tip & Phife still had LOTS of energy in the tank. But to borrow Phife's favorite type of references (basketball) once again - even Jordan needed newer members like Steve Kerr for his second three-peat. And Consequence was that 6th man off-the-bench that gives that verbal shot-in-the-arm needed on tracks like 'Motivators' and album single 'Stressed-Out'. It's like the Ewoks in Return of the Jedi - your either with or against them. They add to the material, or take it away depending on who's expressing the opinion. I'm firmly in the pro-Consequence group. Well, I am on this album anyways - Consequence leaves much to be desired on post-B,R&L material; and probably the reason he was never heard from again on other Tribe releases which were soon to dwindle into nothing at all after The Love Movement. There will never be an argument over which is the top 3 ATCQ albums - Low End Theory and Midnight Marauders firmly hold positions #1 and #2 (and switch depending on who's deciding the ranking), while People's Instinctive Travels is close behind in spot #3. But playing eternal catch-up behind People's... in the "eh" category is Beats, Rhymes, and Life. It has all the elements that make-up a classic hip-hop album as well. It's just that the cooks might've added too many new ingredients in the kitchen to the old, favorite formula just a little too much for most people's liking. And that's a shame. RIP Phife Dawg. RIP Consequence's career.