The Intangibles... Plexiglass... Liner Notes...

The group formed in a rather odd way. It's somewhat a fateful, act of God-sort-of affair. Me, Chad B., or Onasuss Maximus the Antagonist when rhyming, met the Grand Glorious Chuck Dukie, secret identity Charles, in 1983 on a street called Sudbury in Shaker Heights, Ohio. Chuck was the dude I knew to start rhyming first; circa 1993. We would freestyle purely for fun before that, but no one really started seriously rhyming until Chuck met the Primates at Shaker Heights High School. BLG, Reno Raynes, Sciencimatic, M-Double-A-L, Tha Nigga K, and shortly after, Dukie himself. Those dudes were all tight on the rhymes and we became real cool. They were the impetus to start Chuck rhyming. Chuck got a four-track and the Gemini mixer with the four sample banks as his first studio. You had to be precise with that thing. No waveform to view on a computer screen for ease of looping minus the pop. His dad had all of the old school hits, so Chuck got to digging. Looking to upgrade, Chuck worked mad hours at a gas station to get a MPC2000. On that machine, the boy got really busy making some ahead of his time hits. Chuck Dukie's demo is a bona fide classic. I lived down at the dorm at Cleveland State and we had mad MCs too. B-Roc and Black Male as 2/3 of Mental Ka$e, J-Akshun and Sean Corleone as Mental Chess, Crazy Steve the Barber, Rich London and those T-Dot boys, the Evildoers, Rafeeq Washington and a gang of others, myself included, were on some freestyle dojo shit. It really worked to hone the skills as we would go up to Mekkah Sunshine's radio show on WCSB and freestyle almost every weekend. We'd also steal a shitload of records. We were really on some Hip-Hop shit keeping it real as fuck at the time. I ended up moving to Washington, DC in 1998 to go to Howard University, the real HU, as an exchange student for a year. I get there and meet a gang of muthafuckas that, while weren't necessarily really trying to be MCs and pursue careers as rappers, loved to fucking freestyle and were quite good at it. Chris Adams is a freestyle dynamo and observant comedic asshole all in one. He is definitely the wrong dude to battle. Rob Bacon, CJ, Kevin, and a slew of mostly New York dudes would be in front of Slowe Hall on some serious rhyming shit. Because Howard is so international, you had to be on it, cause you were really representing your city. I came with the polished mercurial tongue from Cleveland; ask if you doubt me, step if you see me. I remember the homie Eric from Belgium would flip it in French and in Anglish. Howard also served as a serious rhyme dojo. One day, this one dude from Cincinnati who I had seen around often but never really conversed at length with, Jabari, jumped in the cipher and came quite tight. I was shocked cause he really ain't look or seem like the MC type. Dude was too magnanimous for that ego-driven role. I dapped him up and we stayed in touch. Instead of going back to Cleveland at the end of the academic year I decided to stay in DC. I had a decent job at George Mason and was able to stack a few, so I purchased a 61-key Triton and went to work on the beats. I randomly ran into Jabari on the streets and he says that he had been thinking of getting some equipment himself. Me and him ended up doing some song called "Throat Punches" which was horrible and stupid, but by making it we learned that we did work well together. After coming over and checking out my Triton, he went and got the 88-key Triton. Baller. Chuck Dukie moved out to DC in 2002 in the apartment I was staying at in Landover, MD at the time. We lived right in King's Square and it was perfect for making music since no one ever called the police. Chuck's MPC wasn't working properly, but he was quick to learn the Triton. Chuck and Jabari got along cool, so we decided we should all start the band up. The name "The Intangibles" was inspired by the philosophies of MC Hammer, as we, like he, knew ourselves unable to be touched. A funny thing was that Jabari himself really never had a rap name. At first he was "Legend", but that lasted for like, 3 weeks. Then he became "Hot Merchandise" or "The Hot Merchant," both of which I thought were dope, but he never kept to those. It's not of much consequence as he never says his name on the whole album anyway. As I stated previously, the guy's way too humble to be an MC. The original plan was to make a song a week, but that turned into a song every two months or so. We did however, record many beats, but just proved too lazy to record vocals. When we did do the tracks, our ritual was to get some decent vodka, usually Stolichnaya, and some cranberry juice and like mulattoes, mix 'em. Our rule concerning vocals was one take. No punch-in bullshit. If you couldn't spit the rhyme then you had to adjust it accordingly until you could. Imagine how this could hinder an MC on stage attempting to spit rhymes one hasn't the dexterity of tongue to say. As we got drunker, this could often result in many takes. Chuck had the record with 58. Sometimes the liquor worked perfectly as was the case on the song "Hooch." After we completed a track we'd record it to MiniDisc and go out. The usual location to party was Adams Morgan. The Common Share (R.I.P.) mostly. On rare occasions we'd hit up Dream. We never really pushed the album even though most people seemed to like it. We almost did it. Husky Records, was a legal entity, we were ready to go, but like so many other farts in the breeze, it didn't amount to shit. When I went to Tokyo in 2002, I passed out about 200 CDs for free, so maybe we're large over there as I haven't been back since and wouldn't know. We are though, a hit in Saipan. I moved into DC and everyone just seemed to get busy with life and kinda said "the hell with the rap game." Such is life. We're all still real cool though, and all in DC at the moment. Who knows? Maybe we'll start the band back up...

Anyhow... Download the album, Plexiglass, here, and then check the track-by-track notes below...

"Hooch" Produced by Anachronus

To make the track I chopped up and pitched down parts of the Persuaders' "Love's Gonna Catch Up (And Walk Out)." It was made on a Triton, as were most of our beats. I wanted for us to make a cut concerning alcohol, but the point was to be brutally honest about the effects of the drug and the asshole-shit we are prone to doing while under the influence thereof. The final product satisfied my original plan, and I thought we personified alcoholism as well as any Hip-Hop song I have heard before or since. This is probably due to the fact we were extra drunk off of Stoli and cranberry the day we laid the track down. The drunk fellow doing the intro, chorus and outro was our downstairs neighbor, Wes. Wes had a large family and used to come up to me and Chuck's apartment to escape the fam for a spell, have a beer, a smoke and philosophize. He came up once while I was laying the beat down on Pro Tools. I miked him up and let him chat shit over the beat, which I then later chopped up into the intro, chorus and outro you heard. There is also an alternate version of this song with DJ Reemycks on the cut, but I didn't use it as the primary one here only because it is a little low in volume.

"Fox In Socks" Produced by Redfoot Jones

Jabari banged out this dope beat and came to me and Chuck with the concept to flip real quick 4-bar rhymes using the same word over and rhyming the surrounding words. We had no idea that in a couple of years that all these lil' young rappers would begin to do this all the time. Sorry. No unifying theme other than the rhyme structure, so everyone was free to be their own respective asshole self. This track went without a chorus for quite sometime. I believe that Chuck and Jabari thought up the chorus you hear and laid it down in my absence. I personally think the chorus is great and resonates with the title perfectly. "We write and jot, for tykes and tots. The game we spit, is the game we got. Your game ain't shit. We claiming spots. They say you hot, but we know you not." Dr. Seuss would have smirked. That's the homie Kevin doing the intro with his weird-ass Trinidad/London/Chicago amalgamation of an accent.

"Tedious" Produced by The Grand Glorious Chuck Dukie

Chuck called this beat "Tedious" as a comment regarding the process of recording from the Triton to Pro Tools. Like most of Chuck's beats, this beat has an evil tinge to it. Unlike most of Chuck's beats, this one had no samples. Chuck's primary instrument was the MPC2000, but at the time his Zip drive wasn't working, so he started to bang shit out on my Triton. The lyrics matched the evil aura perfectly. My rhyme was basically about me as the angel of death. Jabari has the gall to challenge perpetrators and God in his verse. Chuck comes the fuck off on this. I always thought Chuck to be the best lyricist out of all of us. The dude is a natural. "Pipe bomb at the address. It said C.O.D., and you paid for it." C'mon man. That's dope. Listen and tell me I'm wrong. The little kid at the end of the verses is Jabari's little brother (little brother as in the Little Brother/Big Brother program) doing his DC Errea thang. I don't think Chuck really wanted him on the song. Whatever. We write and jot for tykes and tots; or so we claim.

"Fiefdom" Produced by Anachronus

The samples came from some Chinese film, Triton drums and a lot of sounds from Portishead's website. We usually came off on the album as some carefree hedonists, but we all actually read from time to time. Tired of having our race card trumped by white privilege, we decided to voice our aggressions on this cut. The homie B-Roc came down for the weekend from the Land to lay down a verse. Everyone was on point on some pro-Black shit. It took us for ever to lay down the chorus as everyone sort of did it their own way, and not exactly as Jabari had originally intended. Jabari was usually the one able to formulate choruses best.

"Rubix" Produced by Redfoot Jones

One of our more upbeat songs. Jabari wanted for us to write a rhyme about how people try to figure you out but have no idea who you truly are or what you've been through. A very no-frills song. No chorus or adlibs. Just three 16s one after another. Something I consider to be a cop out on our part.

"In the Club" Produced by Redfoot Jones

We made this song way before 50 Cent did his club song. This was our closest thing to a club-banger. Jabari was playing this beat you hear here one day at his house with me, Chuck and our homie Jamiel listening like, "This shit is tight." Chuck comes right off the top with the chorus, "Jumpin' in the club, smackin' hoes, poppin' Mo." We all crack up and decide to write our verses and make it a done deal. The next week we bang the shit out and don't get it right until we get drunk. A lot of women that have heard this song thought we were talking about smacking the shit out of the hoes in the club. No. We don't condone violence against women. We just meant smacking on the respective hoes' asses. That's all.

"Very Good Years" Produced by Anachronus

At first this wasn't gonna be on the album because we didn't think we would get away with sampling Sinatra. The concept was simple, rap about a good year of your life. I chose 1998, when I was balling and told the story of my move from Cleveland to DC. Jabari took it back to 1986 by painting a portrait of a young Black adolescent and the hijinks inherent. Chuck Dukie brings it back to 1995 when he gets the MPC2000 and gets busy with the beats and rhymes in Cleveland, representing the Primate Foundation properly. Another well-manifested idea from them Intangible boys.

"Me to You" Produced by Anachronus

I made the beat from a poorly looped Indian sitar lick, a sample from the Four Rooms soundtrack, and some of my horrible synth licks. A slightly faster-paced beat for us to be MCs over. No theme at all, just loosely-knit braggadocious rhymes. Again we have Jabari on the chorus. The way the songs ends is great.

"Icarus" Produced by The Grand Glorious Chuck Dukie

The sole MPC2000 beat on the record courtesy of Chuck Dukie. Not sure where he got all the samples from, but I do believe they were mainly from a movie. The concept was based upon Icarus, the wax-winged dude that tried to fly to the sun. Fucking idiot. So we all made up what I thought to be excellent stories of rise to fame and fortune and the fall from it. I owe Chuck and Jabari an apology because I wrote a 32-bar rhyme that I thought was 16-bars. This was the first song that we recorded together, and this was during the time when I never wrote rhymes that adhered to a sensible, even number of bars. My bad. This song, like "Hooch", was one of our best produced. The rhymes and beat perfectly complimented the title. Hopefully the young kids will hear this one and not want to become superstars.

"Perpin'" Produced by Redfoot Jones

(Addendum 11/11/2007) I forgot about this song until Jabari reminded me about it after a night of drinking in which both of us claimed we weren't trying to drink. This was our hidden song that came on following seven minutes of silence from the conclusion of "Icarus." The concept is simple, talk about those fake-ass, perpetrating, uniform-wearing, automatons that think they're prodigies. One point about this song... it's hilarious. The rhymes are spot-on, but the chorus is utterly ridiculous and best exemplifies how we got increasingly intoxicated during our vocal sessions. This was a very fun track to make and it can be heard in the music. We once flew DJ Reemycks out from Cleveland to lay down some cuts on the album. I remember that he did some on "Hooch," but I forgot that he cut on this song too. Real Hip-Hop. Scratches hoes.

Choppin' It Up With... MaryJayne...

Myspace is like living at a dorm on Howard University's campus. We used to get flyers for clubs underneath our door every fucking morning and then again in the evening. I would gather all of these up, save one to pick my teeth with, and discard the rest without even bothering to glance at the advertised event. Even the flyers with the donkey-assed Jamaican ladies that advertised the Caribbean happenings in Prince George's County became too commonplace to take notice. Myspace is the same fucking thing. Every time I log on I see notification that I have received a friend request. I tend to get giddy hoping that this is some young tender from my younger years that has finally tracked me down and is about to reveal her love to me. Data girl (the new "Computer Love"). But, as always, instead of it being an actual friend, it's usually some bullshit-ass underground rapper, with ne'er fucking skill, expecting that I am about to click on "approve" and then actually go to their slow-loading Myspace page and listen to the jake-ass tracks they have posted. Usually I just click "deny" and feel no emotion. One day I got a friend request from the young lady you see to your left, MaryJayne. I was going to keep with my routine and ignore the request, but because I felt a certain empathy with her name, I decided to check out her music. I clicked on her page and heard a track entitled, "Control." I sat and listened to her heart-wrenching tale of a love that has grown so strong that logic leaves the building and concern for self takes secondary precedence to this yungplure that makes the room humid. I knew that women that had been with me would be able to relate to MaryJayne's song. I went out on a limb and contacted MaryJayne because I was impressed by what I heard and the fact that she writes her own music. She is doing her thing out in the Bay Area, performing with local legends like Pep Love, Casual, Mac Mall and Andre Nikatina. We set up the time and the phone interview became a reality. MaryJayne is hella cool and a proletarian. We chopped it up for a spell, and since she is so smooth with it, it is truly better heard than read. All entertainers should hope to be so humble and approachable. Listen to MaryJayne's music over on her Myspace page and then check out the interview below. Classic stuff from a classy lady...

Ryde 4 My Nigga...

Circa July 2001…

I woke up to a pulsating synthesizer. Nepro Sub-Bass to be exact. The 80Hz blasting out of my Technics speakers was making my windows rattle so loud you'da thunk supermuthafuckas with superpowers was fighting right out in the parking lot. I raise myself off of the Triton’s keys and lean back in my shitty little Kmart folding chair. The bass decays out of existence and with its departure comes the realization that I just slept on my fucking beat machine all night. I wiped the drool first from my overgrown beard and then off of the touch screen of the Triton. My back was killing me from being in that position for six hours. I looked around because I wasn't quite registering reality yet and saw that my fifth of Bombay Sapphire was sitting on the floor by a glass with last night’s stale drink in it. I downed the stale drink and then took a slug straight out the Bombay bottle. I got a horrible case of heartburn from the double dose and felt like I had one those aliens from Alien trying to bust out my chest. I thought of her again, as thinking of her was my curse at that time. I think she left about two months ago and that was probably the last time I was privy to happiness. Sometimes I’d find notes with her writing on it, an old comb with her hair or a pair of her panties behind the bed. All memory of her existence in my world was fading fast. I didn’t go out anymore, I just went to work and on trips to get food and liquor. Often the homies would try and coerce me into hitting up the University of Maryland golf course for some swings on the driving range and some wings in the clubhouse, but nah. I’m fine wallowing in my own filthy apartment, jacking off and crying over the memory of the beautiful woman that used to love me. Making beats served as the only thing, due to the intense technicality of the Triton, that kept my mind off of her. I took another slug and wondered what time it was.

After a much needed shower, I came back to my bedroom and took another slug of the Bombay. It was an intensely humid July afternoon. I thought I knew humidity as a native Clevelander, but Cleveland ain’t got shit on this air that can be cut with a Swiss Army knife down here in the DC errea. The humidity was of no consequence to me, I was in my apartment with the air conditioning on ‘Kelvin’. For all of Kings Square’s faults such as rats, roaches, frequent break-ins to one’s car and mysteriously vanishing mail, the air conditioning did work well. It worked so well it could’ve sold easily in Dante's Hell with nothing more than word of mouth serving as the only advertising. It was at its best when the young ladies came over and would complain, “It’s cold in here.” I’d be like, “Yeah. I can see that.” Air drying with a towel around my waist like a kilt I went over to the Triton. I had been working on a beat the night prior, but I couldn’t remember what it was. I hit the button to pull up the sequencer, saw there was a beat I entitled ‘Cosmic Bus Stop’. I pressed the ‘play’ button. What blasted was a chaotic, futuristic number that had been built around a loop I pulled straight from the movie ‘Repo Man’. Since it was straight from the film, you could hear a door slam that really shouldn’t have been in the loop, but since this is Hip-Hop, things like that are of little importance. This was before I refined my chopping technique, so it’s a straight loop. Nothing fancy. The drum beat was a tad simple, but the hand claps came in nicely and the beat reflected my mood at the time; very dark, very sinister, seemingly without an ounce of hope. The lead synths stabbed their way out of the mix. The bass came in on the 4 as if it was lost in its own world. I let the beat play with all of the tracks enabled and freestyled as I finished preening. I blazed the other half of last night’s L and went to my kitchen to get some cereal.

Frosted Flakes was what my diet mainly consisted off. In Landover, Maryland, one’s choices are very limited. Up the street was Popeye’s and McDonald’s, but I do my best to never eat fast food, so I never really fucked with that bullshit. I’m usually too lazy to cook, so my routine was to go to the shitty Korean grocery up the block and get four boxes of Frosted Flakes and two gallons of soy milk and call it sustenance for the day. I sat on my tan couch in the living room, eating that which is g-r-r-reat and let Ash catch Pokemon in the horizon that was my 19” television. That new beat was playing in the background and I was digging it. I heard a tap at the door. I ignored it thinking that I’d have to cuss out the Jehovah’s Witnesses like I did the prior weekend. The tapping kept going. I wondered who in the fuck it could be. None of my friends would show up unannounced; we were all raised with the understanding that you’ve got to call before you come and not just pop over out the blue. I was going to just go back into my room and work out another beat, cause quite frankly, I wasn’t in the mood for humans. Something in me clicked though, and I must have had said “Fuck it” because I went to the door and looked through the peephole, but saw no one. I yanked open the door and looked to my right where the staircase was, and I saw three kids, one of which, Muhammad, I already knew. Muhammad was a nice enough teenager. He helped me move in the couch I was just resting my laurels on. I think he fucked up his back when he did it, but was too proud to say anything about it. He was about 13 years old and looked like a young Akon, albeit chubbier with way wider nostrils and a one-inch unkempt afro.

“What’s up Muhammad?” “Nuttin.” “No really. What’s the deal?” “We wanna make a song.” “What are you talking about?” “We wanna rap over that beat you’re playing.” “I ain’t playing no beat. That’s the radio.” “Nu-uh. That ain’t the radio. My cousin got a beat machine. I can tell you making a beat cause the jont just keep looping and looping. We been outside your window for the last hour freestyling to it. It’s jive tight, Joe.” Here’s where I had a problem. Landover is full of hungry muthafuckas. I’ve got a lot of technology in my house; so much so that I moved my shit in at night. No one in the neighborhood except for my downstairs neighbor, Wes, really knew that I had this shit. I could see letting these kids into my crib and them telling they wild-ass relatives about all the equipment I’ve got, and me coming home one late evening from Mason to find all of it gone. But for some reason I got like the Grinch right before he carved that roast beast. My heart grew three sizes at that moment, and I thought about these three young brothers and the area that they live in and the fact there wasn’t shit for Black kids to do around there but watch BET, drink, get high, fight and fuck at way too early an age. Plus I had renter’s insurance if worse came to worst. So, I said, “Fuck it. Come on in.”

I let them in and led them straight back to my bedroom where I housed the studio. The beat was still playing loudly and the three kids came in and immediately started to bob their heads and freestyle. I cut the beat off, reached down, grabbed my Bombay and took another slug. After wiping the excess gin from my beard with the back of my hand I sat on the granite that passed as my folding chair and I asked the three, “So what’s y’all’s group’s name?” Muhammad, obviously the oldest at 13, tells me, “Dem Lowlife Boyz.” “Alright,” I say, wowed by the originality of the group’s moniker, “What’s y’all’s rap names?” Muhammad again speaks on behalf of all Dem Lowlife Boyz, “I’m Lil’ Mo, this nigga,” as he touches the shortest one that resembles the little kid off of the Fresh Prince on the shoulder, “is Lil’ Rico. And this nigga,” as he points to the kid that is obviously in between the ages of Muhammad himself and Lil’ Rico, “that’s Lil’ Mike.” “OK. I got it.” Looking at the youngest two, I ask them “How old are y’all?” Lil’ Mike, who has the aura of a bad-ass kid, says, “I’m eleven and Lil’ Rico is nine.” Word. Lil' Rico looked like a young Sam Cassell, slightly more handsome though. Not quite sure what I’ve gotten myself into, but fully aware that I need to keep some sort of tranquility in the studio environment, I ask Dem Lowlife Boys how they intend to make this track. “Do y’all gotta hook? Did you write your lyrics?” Muhammad is like, “We ain’t write nothing. We was gonna freestyle.” I’m never a fan of even the best MCs I know talking about they’re about to waste my time by freestyling on the mic while I’m engineering, so I was especially skeptical of these pre-pubescent muthafuckas expecting that they was finna freestyle over this fresh-ass beat. Muhammad adds, “We good at freestyling. We be freestyling all the time. Lil’ Mike’s got to freestyle. He can’t read.” I turn my head dubious as hell towards Lil’ Mike and I’m like, “You can’t read?” Lil’ Mike is like, “I don’t be fucking with that reading shit. I write my lyrics in my head like Jay-Z.” Great. The future of America right here in my room and they’re fucking semi-literate. Fuck it. I boot up the computer, prime a Pro Tools session and make Dem Lowlife Boyz do a mic check so I could get the levels right. Everything seemed to be in order, so we laid the track down.

To their benefit, I would have to say that I was impressed with their performance. Considering that they were coming off the top of the dome, they sounded a lot better than most people my age who try to freestyle. Each Lil’ Lowlife Boy did their part in one take and they actually did have a hook, albeit they didn't rhyme all the time and they did lose the beat at the end of the song. Each had their own freestyle crutch too. Lil’ Mo couldn't rap for more than 6 bars without having to start over with that bullshit New York rappers love to do; “Yo, yo, yo, yo…” Lil Rico, niggas just don’t known him, but Lil’ Mike, niggas indeed do know him. When they were all done, I took another slug of Bombay and started laughing. Lil’ Mo is like, “What’s funny?” So I’m like, “Nothing. Y’all was alright. It’s just, why in the fuck is y’all so violent? I mean, ain’t none of y’all smacked a nigga out and left him in a ditch with their grandma, nor has any of y’all strapped an R22 grenade across anybody’s chest. Why do y’all rap about that shit?” Lil’ Rico looks at me like I’m the lame in this room and says, “Man… that’s what the streets is trying to hear.” Maybe he’s right. No matter, how many cuts have you heard in which the illiterate one catches the most wreck? I made them leave since they wanted to do tracks all night. Fuck that. I ain't the babysitter. After kicking them out the front door, I smiled, went and ironed, shaved, showered, took another slug and hit up the homies to see what was up for the evening.

In retrospect, I’m glad I did the track with the kids. At the time it really didn’t matter to me at all, but I think I did a good thing that day. I made them a copy and they were fucking ecstatic. Dem Lowlife Boyz were ghetto celebrities around Kings Square that summer. I would come home after work and here them playing their shit with a bunch of their peers and everyone was feeling it. I have no idea what became of Dem Lowlife Boys. I had heard that Lil’ Mo had a kid, Lil’ Mike had gotten shot and Lil’ Rico was victim of some kidnapping shit. Whatever happened to them, I hope that they are safe now and have realized that life can be so much more than what they knew over in Landover…

Dem Lowlife Boyz-Ryde 4 My Nigga

For fans of A Tribe Called Quest...

For anyone who cares, my homie Tim Follos works for the Washington Post Express newspaper, and always gets to do cool interviews. So one cold ass March evening when I got off work, I got picked up by Jarobi, his wife and three week-old son and my boy Tim. We went to Kramerbooks to get a bite and started to chat. Here it goes in its entirety:

Chad: Yeah, what’s up with this Zulu Nation, exactly? Afrika Bambaataa the head, right?
Jarobi: He’s responsible for hip hop as a culture.
We had gangs and stuff back in the seventies in New York, and he was like, “Yo, we need to stop killing each other, and let’s do something useful with all this energy and creativity we have.”
So he took the biggest gangs back in the day and formed the Zulu Nation and made it as an organization for black people to learn about themselves and to teach other people about themselves.
Inside, rapping, and break-dancing, and graffiti – he knew that all these people who were doing that stuff were coming together anyway, so he was just trying to add a little substance.
Chad: Zulu Nation still in effect nowadays?
Jarobi: Absolutely.
Chad: Cause I don’t be hearing nothing about it as much no more.
Jarobi: It’s world-wide, baby – world-wide.
Chad: Really?
Absolutely.
Look on the internet, dude. I guarantee you’ll be blown away.
Chad: On the world-wide aspect, I’m sure ya’ll perform everywhere...
...I know nowadays, I went to Asterdam not too long ago and I’m over there – I went over there with my girl at the time, and she wanted to dance. I be like they don’t be playing stuff that moves feet.
The new stuff’s okay – I’m not gonna say it’s bad – musically it pushes the envelope, b …they still play ya’ll on the radio over there.
I was in high school back in ’92, ’93, so at the prom they used to play your stuff, you know what I’m saying? So that’s the music of my childhood - that’s what gets me hyped.
They don’t play it over here, but they play it over there – why do you think they’ve got such a respect for hip-hop like that?
Jarobi – I think in Europe they like the more authentic of every music genre – they don’t really go for the pop shit too much.
They listened to Miles and Thelonius over there. They like the real shit – people that are true to their art, you know what I’m saying?
That’s been my experience.
Chad: Ya’ll in DC now, home of go-go - you like go-go?
Jarobi: Absolutely.
Chad: Yeah, me too.
Jarobi: I mean, if you listen to it and give it a chance you can’t deny it.
It’s straight African drums.
Dude, plain and simple, it’s almost animalistic, you know what I’m saying?
Chad: When I first heard it, I was just like, what is it?
I grew up in Cleveland Heights. I heard it, and I was just like – this is too weird.
Jarobi: It sort of takes you a minute. But you see, think about this: they played go go music in New York before they played hiphop.
Listen to some Doug E. Fresh, dude. That’s all go go music, dude.
Salt ‘n Peppa, Kid ‘n Play, Kurtis Blow, first couple joints, that’s all go go.
Chad: You’re right!
Chad: So out here, it’s really no hip hop scene. I mean, it is, but it’s aint’t like
Jarobi: I beg to differ.
Tim: He won’t listen to Head-Roc.
Chad: I didn’t say I wouldn’t listen to him. Did you give me the CD? I didn’t crack it open.
I’m sorry, man – don’t take offense to that.
Jarobi: I won’t, because if you don’t hear it you’ll never know.
So I guarantee, once you hear it, you’re gonna call me back and be like, “dude.”
Everybody does – I’ve yet to give that album to somebody who hasn’t listened to it who hasn’t called me back and been like, “dude is bananas.”
Chad: No doubt.
Jarobi: Nobody. I can’t think of anybody.
Chad: There’s just no synonymous DC name yet.
Jarobi: Because DC eats its babies.
Chad: They had Questionmark Asylum.
Jarobi: I don’t think they’re from DC, though.
Chad: I’m just kidding about that one(laughter).
Jarobi: The only real MC that was from DC that made some noise was Nonchalant back in the day, that girl.
Chad: You're a native New Yorker - DC's a little slower, ain't it?
Jarobi: That's why I like it.
Chad: You like it like that?
It seem like everybody be moving out of New York.
Jarobi: There could be a reason for that.
Chad: You guys get tired of it after a while or something?
Jarobi: New York is a police-state, dude.
If you have any kind of political mind with youreself, you ain't gonna be in New York. It's very oppressive, very rascist, dude - systematically racist.
You would think New York is like the free-est place in the world to be, right?
Chad: I would think so, as an outsider looking in.
Jarobi: It's not like overt shit, like "Nigger, get the fuck out of here," but it's systematic shit, dude.
Chad: Really?
Jarobi: Hell yeah. The neighborhoods is broke down like that, you know what I mean?
Chad: I noticed that, my boy and I used to kick it in Brooklyn.
Jarobi: Shit, Brooklyn is the worst place.
Chad: For real?
Jarobi: What ?!? They have little enclaves of everybody, dude.
You have Benson Hers, Bay Ridge, which is the white neighborhood.
You've got Fort Green, which is being re-gentrified like all of DC is.
Sheepshead Bay is Jews and Italians and shit like that.
Funny enough, Africa grew up in Bay Ridge - from the Jungle Brothers.
Chad: What's up with those dudes nowadays? They still do stuff? They old, ain't they? Ain't they about 52 years old?
Jarobi: Then I'm 51.
Chad: No you ain't, man. Be quiet, man. You're not 51 years old.
Jarobi: Well, Tip went to high school with Africa. That's how we got on. Africa, The Jungle Brothers - the first time Tip was on a record was on a song that they did called "Black is Black."
Mike Gee, from the Jungle Brothers, his uncle was Red Alert, and that's how they got their deal and that's how we got our deal.
We didn't go through that demo process.
Chad: So ya'll was really in the right place at the right time, too. But it didn't hurt that ya'll was actually good too.
Jarobi: No, it didn't.
Chad: That's tight.
Jarobi: Dude, no, that's not even true. I'm gonna stop lying.
We put out a demo that had "Pubic Enemy," "Bonita Applebum," and a couple of other songs.
And the record companies heard them songs and they was like "that shit is wack."
Chad: They didn't like "Bonita Applebum" ?
Jarobi: No. I was 16 when we did that and they were like, "that shit is wack, that shit is garbage."
Chad: I put that on when I first, you know, romanced, man.
I was on the anti-R&B, so I'm like, imma put on some smooth rap dudes.
That's real, man.
I wasn't about to put on no Guy.
Jarobi: I like Guy.
Chad: I never felt like that now, though.
Jarobi: Really? Well those my friends, too.
Chad: Oh, Guy?
Jarobi: Hell yeah.
Chad: I was just - Teddy Riley, he tight - you know, when you young, you're anti.
Jarobi: Teddy Riley is responsible for some of the biggest rap songs you ever heard in your life, dog. He did all of Kool Moe Dee's shit back in the day, "Rap's New Generation," he did that song too.
He did a lot of stuff that was on Jive, too. He like was a big hip-hop dude.
Chad: Oh, I wasn't down with all this linkage. That's tight. That's tight. That's real tight.
Now these new dudes - other than your man Head-Roc, how do you feel about the state of hip-hop? I know it's a generic question.
Jarobi: Well, it is a generic question, but I think that when people ask it I kind of understand. It's fucked up.
Chad: Do you think the money just ruined it?
Jarobi: Well, the way that the record companies work - it's a lot of scientific thinking - and there's a formula for everything. A, B, and C equals D.
And that's what happened to hip-hop.
Chad: Just cookie-cutter formula, right?
Jarobi: Right. And the way it's being marketed to fourteen-year old girls.
Chad: I've said that to people before, they be like like "why don't you buy this?"
And I say, "cause I feel that it's marketed to middle school girls, what they be talking about," because they're the most apt to actually go out and buy a cd.
Jarobi: Yeah, cause they have disposable income, you get an allowance, if you live in the suburbs you get a pretty nice allowance.
Buy an album with that.
Chad: How do you feel about Dead Prez?
Jarobi: They're hot. Heady's in that same vein, but I think Heady's a little bit more accessible. He's more inclusive.
Chad: Yeah, cause they definitely on some smack the white boy, kill your landlord.
Jarobi: Kill my landlord.
C. I. L. L.
My.
Landlord.
(laughs). Yeah, they on some kill my landlord shit, but they tight.
Chad: Saying that: white people buy more hip hop than black people, so is that part of the formula? Maybe not the music that you make, but do you think it's more of a minstrel show going on now and it's all for white people?
Jarobi: No, what's happened is there's no more rock 'n roll.
Rock 'n roll's going through the same shit.
There's no other form of music that has the angst that hiphop had.
Hip hop is angry, violent, "I'm gonna kill a motherfucker." Rock music used to have that same energy without necessarily having to say it.
Hiphop's the only thing that has that energy.
What's good rock music now?
Chad: I listen to some dudes like Interpole, Mars Volta, the Yeah Yeah Yeahs.
Tim: I like the Yeah Yeah Yeahs.
Jarobi: Yeah Yeah Yeahs are alright, but it doesn't have the same energy, and hiphops the only thing that does.
If you want to rebel, sag your pants and wear your hat backwards. That'll fuck your parents up if you're a white kid in middle America.
Chad: So how do you feel about white rappers?
Jarobi: If you’re good, I don’t give a fuck. MC Search was a beast. The Beastie Boys…
Chad: Do you know them pretty well?
Jarobi: Yeah, we’re big fans of theirs and they’re big fans of ours. It’s mutual respect. We did the Tibetan Freedom concert twice and went on their “Hello Nasty” tour.
Chad: Did ya’ll do Lollapooloza?
Jarobi: Yeah in ’94, ’96, I think there’s another one, I think we did it three times – no it’s twice, I’m thinking about Smokin’ Grooves.
Chad: What’s your favorite audience to perform for – where do you expect to get the most love?
Jarobi: 9:30 Club or the House of Blues. The 9:30 Club is, by far, one of the top three most supportive venues on the planet. 1500 people, mixed crowd, 20-30 years old.
I like to have a mix between people who know every word to every song and young kids who don’t really know, but they big brother or they cousin told them about the shit and they want to hear it for themselves.
That’s the kind of crowd I like – in-between, a nice little cross-section.
Chad: Do you think rock ‘n roll’s too cookie-cutter as well?
Jarobi: Yeah, rock ‘n roll’s the same way, dude. And when they started trying to style people – I think that’s the same problem with both rap and rock, when they start trying to fucking style people – that’s when everything gets lost.
You gotta come with your own shit.
Chad: How you feel about the rappers with tennis shoes and whatnot?
Jarobi: It’s dope. Get your money.
I personally would not do it, but I’m not knocking nobody’s hustle – get it.
As long as you doing the right thing with it and employing people and providing opportunities for other people, I think it’s dope.
Tim: I have no idea what you’re talking about
Chad: You know how like they got the G-Unit sneakers or Jay Z shoes. You can’t knock ‘em for being entrepreneurial.
Jarobi: No, he’s providing a model.
Chad: Which I think is dope.
I guess it’s good that people finally getting paid properly off it. I was watching this thing about rappers contracts on MTV and I think Q-Tip was on it.
Jarobi: Oh, yeah he had to be.
Chad: He was explaining how ya’ll made the money.
Jarobi: Nobody got jerked more than us and TLC. I think we’re the two biggest
Chad: For real?
Jarobi: What?!
Chad: When he broke it down, I was just like “oh, shit.”
Off the first one, at the end of the day – not to be all over your pocket – ya’ll had $80,000 to split between four people after all of that?
Jarobi: I went to cooking school.
Chad: For real?
So you a chef right now?
Jarobi: Yeah. After that bullshit I knew that I had to have something to fall back on.
Chad: So you made most of your money off of your shows.
Jarobi: All of it, all the money we made was off shows.
Chad: So these young bucks coming up – you got a dude who’s trying to do the same – what would you tell them?
Jarobi: Go to school and leave that rap shit alone. Become a lawyer because imma need a lawyer. My little boy gonna need a doctor. Firemen, you know what I mean?
I’m being dead fucking serious.
Tim: Why are you gonna need a lawyer?
Jarobi: Because somebody’s gonna say the wrong thing at some point and imma slap ‘em.
Tim: Where do you work?
Jarobi: Me and Phife do shows.
Tim: You’re not still working as a chef?
Jarobi: No, no.
Tim. That’s cool.
Jarobi: No, it’s not cool. It’s just what it is right now. I’m in transition.
Tim: I would think it’d be cool not to have a day job and just do shows.
Jarobi: Well, I don’t think of being a chef as a day job. I love doing that shit – it wouldn’t be no thing to me.
I worked in a restaurant from like ’95-’98, and that shit was lovely to me.
Chad: What’s your cuisines that you cook?
Jarobi: I can cook anything, but if I had my own restaurant it would be like an Asian-American fusion thing.
Chad: That’s wild. So the record company really was taking initiative to screw you?
Jarobi: I think that’s just the nature of the beast and we just got caught up in it. We didn’t have good enough representation. Red Alert was our initial manager –that’s who we signed our first record company contract with. He didn’t know shit, and we didn’t know shit.
Chad: What’s up girl, how you doing?
Sheena: Good, how are you?
Chad: So, who got paid back in the day, properly. like Ice T?
Jarobi: No. He was doing other things to get his money. Nobody got paid back in our day.
Run DMC, maybe, cause his brother was looking out for them. LL maybe.
Chad: That’s wild. That’s really wild.
Tim: So you sold a million records and made $80,000?
Jarobi: On the first album, at that point, we had probably sold about 800,000 records.
Tim: What’s that, like ten cents a record?
Jarobi: Yeah, absolutely.
Tim: So the money’s in the live shows. Even back then it was like that too?
Jarobi: We wasn’t getting shit for live shows either. Shit, not compared to what we get now to do these damn shows.
Tim: A hundred grand.
Chad: That’s wild. That’s really wild.
It seems like the independent scene nowadays has come up a lot. I’m sure you like that.
Jarobi: Yeah, cause you can control a majority of your money.
Chad: They get paid more per unit too, right?
Jarobi: Yeah.
Chad: They cut out a lot of middle-men.
You like any of these new underground dudes that’s out?
Jarobi: I’m not really familiar, dude, I can’t even lie.
If you told me a couple people I’d probably be like “Yeah, yeah.”
Chad: Do you listen to any contemporary hip-hop?
Jarobi: No, I don’t really seek it out.
If I’m tooting the radio station and I hear something that’s hot, I’m like, “Oh, yeah!”
You know, I’m gonna check Common Sense, I’m gonna check the new De La album.
You know I’m gonna check for Outkast.
Chad: You remember East Coast, West Coast thang? Ya’ll had nothing to do with that.
Jarobi: Yeah we did. We wasn’t about it, but we had serious beef with Ice Cube. What’s his little crew’s name?
Chad: Westside Connection?
Jarobi: Yeah we had beef with them.
(Jarobi tells the us of the beef, but makes us turn off the recorder)…
Jarobi: There’s nothing left to sample, dude. You gotta manipulate the shit. You can’t just straight up sample something – that’s corny anyway.
Chad: You don’t really get down with all the synth-produced rap that’s going on?
Jarobi: Dude, if it’s good it’s good.
Tim: So do you think you’re going to put out another Tribe record – on the record?
Jarobi: Dude, I’m trying my damnedest, and if it happens, thank me.
Let everybody know that I did it.
Trust me.
That’s all I’m gonna say about that (laughs).
But yeah, it’s gonna happen.
Chad: That’s what need to happen, man.
Tim: When was the last show you guys did?
Jarobi: Friday.
Tim: Where was that?
Jarobi: Hunington Beach
Tim: How’d that go?
Jarobi: It was a Tribe show, dude. It was tight.
Funny thing was, though, was it was a private show.
It was for a company called Argent.
The CEO of the company threw a party for all his workers and was like, “I’m gonna have Tribe Called Quest perform. I’m gonna pay Tribe Called Quest to perform at this party.”
I’m just like, “Dude, what ever made you think of?”
He had a private for all his workers in the middle of some presentation, and we did a show for an hour.
It was the most bizarre thing I’ve ever done.
Tim: That’s the first time you’ve ever done something like that?
Jarobi: Yes. That was really bizarre.
Tim: That happens, though.
Jarobi: You figure, like 33-35 year-olds - that’s our audience.
Chad: It is – people that were in high school and college when ya’ll came out.
Jarobi: These people are executives now.
Chad: They investment bankers and whatnot doing there thing.
You know, my pops is a preacher.
When he first became a preacher he was real strict.
I had to sneak rap music. This is ’91. I had to hide “Low End Theory” under my bed.
Chad: You know, he threw out my De La Soul, “Three Feet High and Rising,” ‘cause he thought it was a phallic reference.
I’m like, Pop, first off: who the fuck’s cock is three feet long?
Nowadays he listens to Outkast and Mad Villain. I’m like “how you hear of Mad Villain?” He threw out, like, all my Cleveland hip-hop – the stuff that you can’t find no more. All my tapes – he threw all that out.
Tim: Did you know of Head-Roc before you met him? How’d you guys meet?
Jarobi: Yeah, I’d heard of his group 3LG – I’d heard 3LG, but I didn’t know that Head-Roc was in the group or nothing like that, but I thought that shit was hot.
One day, I was coming from the supermarket with a bunch of bags in my hands, and I guess he knew who I was. He was like, “Yo, man – you need a ride home?”
I got in the car – he never said anything about being into rap music for the longest time.
I just happened to go to his basement one time and I saw the drum that said “3LG,” and I was like, “Oh, shit – you in 3LG?” He’s like, “Yeah.”
I was like, “Dude, your shit is hot.”
On from there, he had a group called the Infinite Loop, and he was like, “Yeah, you should come check out my group.”
I saw them and I was blown away, because it was twelve dudes that MC and all twelve of them were vicious.
So I managed them for a little while, but it was just too many dudes. It was impossible to get anything going.
Me and him was always tight, so when he started to do his solo-thing, I said, “whatever you need me to do for you, I’m going to do it.”
And that was it.
Chad: Who was the most un-cool rappers ya’ll ever chilled with?
Jarobi: Un-cool? Like assholes?
Tim: Or, like, the dorkiest.
Chad: Yeah, like “ya’ll just cornballs. Like, man, I don’t even want ya’ll around me.”
Jarobi: You know what, there’s people that I see now, and when I see their old videos now, I’m like “these guys are fucking geeks.”
I can’t think of any assholes right now – I’m drawing a blank.
Tim: Are there any other good district MCs that you’d recommend?
Jarobi: Noyeek the Grizzly Bear, of course.
Tim: He was in Infinite Loop, right?
Jarobi: Yes. Asheru, Poemcees, Team Demolition, Shambhala....there's a lot of other MCs, but I don't like them.
Chad: There's gangsta dudes here. I don't never be hearin em
Jarobi: I don't know - I be hearin em.
Tim: So would you say you pay close attention to the local hiphop scene?
Jarobi: No.
I have good business acumen, but I don't really carry it like that. If I like you I listen to your shit.
I don’t give a fuck if your shit is good – if I don’t like you, fuck you.
There’s some other guys that might be good, but they acted like assholes or whatever – or tried to treat Heady shitty, because bein’ on some jealous shit or whatever.
Tim: Heady’s the biggest MC in DC right now, right?
Jarobi: We’ve done the most – I mean, yeah. These other cats, except for Asheru – Asheru’s been overseas and stuff like that.
As far as doing all the shows that we do? Nobody’s doing all the shows and getting the write-ups in the papers, and stuff like that, that we do, no.
Tim: You think Heady’s sold the most records?
Jarobi: I don’t know.
You know what? I don’t even have a good grasp of how many records he’s sold.
I know we sell, at least, like to half the people we perform to.
Chad: Ya’ll be out the trunk with it?
Jarobi: Yeah, figuratively.
And through the website, CD Baby, stuff like that.
Tim: They sell ‘em at the Brian Mackenzie Infoshop.
I wanted to ask you: when did Heady start playing with punk bands? Was that your doing?
Jarobi: No, it was just – from doing a lot of social-justice things, the only other people who were doing it were punk bands.
And, like I said with the energy thing: you know at his show he have a lot of fucking energy. And the punk guys really gravitate towards that.
It just kinda happened, you know what I’m saying?
Ever since – I think President Bush is responsible for that, so he was good for something.
Chad: He wanted to know what you thought about OJ. (uproarious laughter)
Jarobi: The OJ Trial? OJ Simpson? Is that really one of the questions?
Tim: No. I thought it would be funny to ask. It’s not on the list.
Jarobi: If the glove doesn’t fit you must acquit.
Personally, I don’t know; he probably killed her.
Chad: (uproarious laughter)
Jarobi: But, he wasn’t convicted of it, so leave him alone.
Casue if it was anybody else, “not guilty” is not guilty.
Chad: We get it rough, boy, when we get it: Kobe, Tyson, Tupac
Jarobi: Tell me about somebody who’s not guilty, first.
I think all of them – across the board – are guilty of whatever they were convicted of. Except for Mike Tyson.
I don’t think Mike Tyson actually pulled somebody’s pants down and tried to rape em. He didn’t have to do that.
Kobe, he was just a little strong with her. I don’t think it was like a violent rape type of thing, it was just a thing of him like getting his way. They started to have sex in a consensual manner – he just took it further than she wanted to go.
So he’s guilty. At any point, when she’s like “nah, nah, nah, nah, nah,” nah, nah, nah, nah, nah – you know what I’m saying?
He didn’t do that, and he said a lot of nasty shit to her.
Chad: I know he’s a hubristic dude.
Jarobi: He really disrespected her. That’s why she’s trying to get him.
Mike Tyson disrespected a girl, like “no, I’m not walking you downstairs,” but that’s something totally different from what Kobe took it. Kobe tried to go in the wrong hole and stuff. He tried to take it to the hole too rough. It’s like, “hold up. You need grease for that – relax, son.”
Tim: That’s going in the paper.
Jarobi: Fuck yeah. Put it dude, put it. I don’t care.
That’s the wrong hole for that, man. Exit only, baby.
Tim: Are there things that you wish you’d done differently, looking back at your career?
Jarobi: (long pause) No, because if I had done things differently, I may not have learned, or be in a position to teach somebody the things that I’ve learned.
You can’t just know shit by osmosis – you gotta have those rough patches to be able to withstand those things. If you don’t have bad, what are you gonna compare good shit to?
Tim: Would you say you have a teacher-pupil relationship with Heady?
Jarobi: He would probably say yeah, but I don’t know. I’m sure he learns a lot of stuff from me, but he teaches me a lot of things too. As far as the music business and stuff like that: of course.
We’re equals, we’re business partners. It’s not like I’m the boss or he’s the boss.
Anybody who’s been in the music business can teach you a lot of shit, you know?
Tim: What do you do, as the manager?
Jarobi: Everything.
I don’t know if this is what a manager is supposed to do or whatever, but I know my relationship with Heady. Booking shows, picking songs to go on the album, giving him ideas as far as how to produce the album, being in the studio recording it, guiding his career – which entails totally different things, from which shirt to put on to which shows to play – you know what I’m saying? For real.
Chad: You plot and plan all that?
Jarobi: Yeah, to a degree.
Chad: Like I’m sure ya’ll won’t come to the show in a white T.
Jarobi: If that’s how we feel that day, hell yeah. Definitely.
There’s no boundaries. There’s no “we can’t do this, because we’re this.” That would be fake.
If I feel like going on stage and wearing a gorilla suit, that’s what I’m gonna do.
Tim: Does he turn down a lot of show offers?
Jarobi: We turn down shows if it’s something that we don’t believe in.
I’m not gonna get on a stage with Joe Neck Bone and the 15th Street Killers. I’ve turned down shows with Trick Daddy and shit like that - I can’t really do that with a good conscience.
Tim: With Tribe or with Heady?
Jarobi: With Heady.
Back in the day Tribe used to do shows with the Ghetto Boys and shit, dude.
Chad: Ya’ll did shows with the Ghetto Boys?
Jarobi: What?! I know (Scar)Face from ’89. We got kicked out of a hotel in Harvey.., Illinois fucking with those dudes.
Chad: you serious?
Jarobi: Yeah, before Willie D was even in the group – when it was Ready Red.
Chad: I remember that (uproarious laughter from Chad and Jarobi). That’s Wild.
Tim: What does hip-hop mean to you?
Jarobi: (long pause) If had asked me that question when I was 20 years old I would have said “hip-hop is everything to me, I’ll die for that shit. I live and breathe hip-hop.”
But that’s not really the case anymore. I love hip-hop, don’t get me wrong – it’s partly responsible for the person that I am now.
It’s a tool to my growth, but am I gonna die for some hip-hop beef? Absolutely not.
I love it and I honor it and I respect it, but there’s a lot of other things to life.
It’s a tool that should be used properly. I can go out and have a hammer and make a table and that’s beautiful, but I can take that same hammer and go out and knock motherfuckers in the head, and that shit is the most violent, ugly thing in the world.
That’s how I feel about hip-hop – does that make sense?
Tim: Yup.
Chad: I think that was pretty well put.
Tim: Have you heard of Ani Difranco?
Jarobi: Yeah!
Tim: She was a t-shirt that says “Every tool is a weapon if you hold it right.”
Jarobi: There you go.
Hip-hop is the most unifying force in the world. Nothing unifies people more than hip-hop - in the world – nothing.
Even sports can be divisive, but you go to a hip-hop show, you’ll see a whole cross-section of humanity.
So it’s very important – But I’m not dying for shit except my family.
Chad: That’s real.
Jarobi: I felt differently about that, though, but we grow and evolve.
Chad: When you son gets of age hip-hop’s still gonna be going, and there’s still gonna be gangstas - cause that’s what they promote – so, he’s 13, he wants the new Ruckus Raw Killers – you gonna let him get it?
Jarobi: Yeah, but the difference is, I’m gonna sit with him and listen to it and break it down…
…I’m the first generation to be raised on hip-hop…I remember the first rap records. I remember when there wasn’t no rap records. I remember when there wasn’t no rap on the radio. I remember when they used to have songs with rap in them, and they’d take the rap part out in order to play it on the radio – that’s when I grew up.
And, along with that – I know every rapper; from my era and a lot of these kids now. I know everybody – and everybody’s cool with me.
Chad: So when ya’ll was coming up everyone was pretty cool, for the most part?
Jarobi: With us, yeah. Everyone was cool with Tribe Called Quest. We had the boom-bap – you can’t deny the drums; everybody like that. Not to be cocky.
Chad: It is what it is.
Jarobi: We didn’t run into too many haters...
Tim: What’s the best tour you’ve been on?
Jarobi: Public Enemy tour. That Beastie Boys tour was hot, though, our last tour – a lot of memories. It’s more spot dates, rather than tours. Tours, you know, it’s just like city to city.
Oh no, I’m sorry - the dope tour was Tribe Called Quest, Digital Underground, Queen Latifah, and
Tim: So was Tupac in that?
Jarobi: Yeah, he was a dancer, dude. And I think it was Third Bass. That was a hot tour. We had mad fun, cause everybody was cool with each other. We used to have water fights and shit every day, playing pranks and stuff like that. That was cool.
Tim: Did you know Tupac socially?
Jarobi: huh?
Tim: Did hang out with Tupac at all?
Jarobi: Hell yeah, a lot.
Tim: What was he like?
Jarobi: When I met him, he was young. He didn’t really curse a lot. Never said “nigger.” He was a poet, a revolutionary cat.
When I saw him change was during that movie “Juice,” cause they did that up in Harlem, and I was living on 89th St. at the time. I was one of the only people (in the city) he knew. He used to call me at like 8 in the morning “Yo, bring me a blunt, yo.”
He was a cool guy.
I don’t really know the Makaveli dude, the guns and the thug life, I don’t really know that guy.
From what I know of him, he’s a real square dude. Meaning good.
Tim: What do you do during a Tribe show?
Jarobi: Ab-lib some bullshit, like hype-man.
Tim: Why’d you move to DC?
Jarobi: I love it here.
I tried Atlanta, but it was too slow and this is close enough to my family in New York where I can get there, but it’s not New York in the middle of the city.
It’s a step down, but not all the way down. DC’s a good place.
Tim: Where do you see hip-hop going?
Jarobi: Everything runs in cycles.
The Bush-era is really in effect now. I think it’s going to go back to like it was when it first came out – I think it’s going to go back to conscious hip-hop. It has no choice. Hip-hop always gives the public what it needs.
Now it needs some more positive stuff.
You can already feel the backlash against the 50 Cents and stuff like that. People are like, “that’s some bullshit.” That’s the rumblings on the street, but where it’s different now is that the suburban kids aren’t out on the street – they just see what’s on TV and cling to that.

...and check Q-Tip, Jarobi and Ali completely fucking KILL the Apollo way back in 1990! Contemporary rappers, take heed. No video hoes. Just two muthafuckas on the stage and a DJ in the rear...

NYC... New Years Eve... 2005

"goddammit chad! you named this column after the greek god of wine and festival. why is everything you write about some black shit that don't nobody give a rat's ass about?" you're right. i should lighten up a little...we ain't getting no reparations, so why even bitch about it? (this sexy girl i knew told me that the hawaiians get reparations-now i am really pissed! the nerve!) i guess i'll tell you folks about what i did over the holiday season which i spent in new york city and also in deer park, new york (where my grandmother lives). some of it was inconsequential, while some of it was down right hilarious. i'll give it to you how i remembered it...in a blacked out, very vague flashback form...ya heard?

-i got to see the only musical artist that i am even close to being a groupie over, jean grae. i have always had a thing with a woman that can express herself in such a male-dominated industry such as hip-hop. myself, kevin hutchinson and rob bacon ventured to the sounds of brasil (s.o.b.'s) and saw ms. grae do her thing. you know how at rap shows, you really don't give a fuck about the opening acts, just the headliners? well there was one real good opener, mr. eon. this dude had a real tight stage presence and had a great voice. you may hear more from this guy, but more than likely you won't hear shit from him because he's actually good and will probably be doomed to the underground for all eternity. anyhow, jean grae was there, and was so tight. the thing a like about the girl is that she's funny and can relate to the crowd. it doesn't hurt that she's cute and thick and looked, oh so good in them jeans on some ginuwine shit. all i know is that i had one too much too drink and barfed my fucking ass off at rob's crib. but really, if y'all haven't (especially the ladies) check out jean grae's shit. she definitely puts all other female emcees to shame and does a number on most of the men too. truly one of the best out here. thick too. she's coming to dc on friday, january 21 at the black cat, and i'm a groupie, so i'll be there.

-what the fuck is this reggaeton explosion? where did this shit come from? it's like dancehall mixed with commercial hip-hop and rapped in spanish. that's about as bad of a recipe for disaster as trying to force democracy on the middle east. this shit sucks! it's all over the radio in new york too! i don't get it. yo-i'm sorry. if you don't speak english with an american accent, do not rap. do not fucking rap. the only people that can get away with this are slick rick, monie love and roots manuva! no, not the streets, sorry. i cannot believe this shit. all i can say is that i am glad that there are more spanish speaking people in this country than blacks, so now they can become the second tier race and feel all of the shit that we have been going through for years (like: "those goddamned latinos are taking all of the white man's jobs). what is bad about that, is the proliferation of their culture into american culture. i hope they've got better shit to offer than this clown-ass spanglish babble that is reggaeton.

-manhattan is full of shit. my buddy does investment banking. good thing he is on the island of manhattan. i don't think that the pickup line "have you ever heard of ubs warburg?" would work any where else save for maybe london and los angeles. we met a bunch of austrailian girls, one of which came to america to get a "99 cent cheeseburger". what an incredible country we live in when foreigners come for a fucking item off the extra value menu and have suddenly achieved american nirvana. sad. (a very funny aside to this story-on the way from whatever pretentious bar we were at, my boys took one cab, and then i took another with the 3 aussie ladies. we got to my folks' spot, paid the man, and got out of the cab. i was on the left side of the cab and had to get out on the right. i believe that the combination of my fat ass shifting and my cheap ass $20 old navy jeans resulted in the crotch of my pants ripping as i got out of the cab. i felt my fucking dignity rip as well. do you have any idea how hard it is to chill for an hour with a torn crotch while attempting not to let anyone know about it? i had to sit at certain angles, cross my legs, laugh at jokes that were not funny, alladat. good god...i believe no one noticed, but i am not sure if everyone else knew i had this ripped crotch. just a little something for the folks that say i sound too arrogant on here. i, also, fuck up. the breeze felt great though.)

-if you are ever in new york and ever feel out of place or as if people are not listening to you, or are not in compliance with want you want from them, there is one thing that you can say. the following phrase can be used in any borough without fear of alienation or attack from normal humans or from those godammed unamerican terrorists. if the party is not hype, all you need to ask is, "is brooklyn in the house?" to which you will find that everyone in manhattan (or wherever you are at that time) is actually from brooklyn and that they will get hype as fuck because you just asked if brooklyn was, indeed, in the house or not. if you have used the aforementioned phrase too much and don't want the party to wane due to reiteration, one can always go back to the biggie classic, "where brooklyn at?" this will work as well.

-true story: we went to the 40/40 club on a monday night. it was slow, as it should be considering it was the start of the week. for those that don't know, the 40/40 club is jay-z's sports club that is down in the meat packing district (no, the gay spot is the village, not the meat packing district) . the place is nice though. it isn't too big, but it really is plush. i'm just glad they let me in with some indie-rock jeans. since it was so slow, i asked one of the bouncer/club dudes to show me around. so he proceed to take me upstairs to these 4 rooms, one with a pool table, one a cigar room, one a gaming room complete with a playstation and an x box, and one room that cost $3000 just to rent out for the evening...no drinks included. being the curious fellow i am, i ask the dude, "so yo man, where do beyonce and jay z chill at when they're here?" that dude's response is as follows: "excellent question. right over here, (he motions me over to the stairs and points to a sectioned off area that is right in front of the biggest screen in the whole club.) this partioned area is exclusively for jay and beyonce. not only do they have the best view in the house, but everyone in the house has the best view of the hottest couple in hip hop." i almost shit myself on spot and wondered to mineself, "how much more pretentious can this fucking place get?"

-12:32am, 1-1-2005...a tad bit after the ball fell, myself and kevin hutchinson went to this party in manhattan. i was invited by this cool ass girl we had met the other day, and she said it would be cool if me and my homie fell through. cool. so we go up to the apartment, take the elevator up and are greetled new year's eve style by cute little ol' ashleigh. all is well. she takes us into the apartment that is having the party, and i, being the festive muthafucka that i am start to tell all the party people "happy new year's y'all". most were in agreement and smiled and wished a yungplure a great new year. when ashleigh attempted to introduce us to the hostess of the party i overheard the hostess going "ashliegh, no. no way. who are these guys?" now my hair is crazy. true, but i don't think i look like a problem. kevin has dreadlocks true, but he looks like good folks too. and plus we was both dressed to the 9's with the pimp ass silk/cotton mixtures and the garbadine wool...ya heard? so i sorta took offense to that shit, but paid it no heed as we laughed about the salutation while pouring a super stiff drink in the kitchen. i looked around the party for a friendly face, and when i found one, i asked him if people were smoking at the party. real smoke...no marlboros, bro...he said, yeah, in that room back there. so me and kev and a couple of young ladies go to that room back there and fire up that funk. all was cool, until some girl burst in the room and screamed, "whoever the fuck is smoking fucking marijuana in my house, get the fuck out!!!" i grabbed my coat, stumped out the blunt on the bottom of my shoe, and just left with my drink and my pal, kevin...12:38 am, 1-1-2005...

just a little bit of my life for those that do not know...more to follow...
peace,
chadster 29.5

music?

anyone who knows me, knows that i love music. however, music, nowadays, as we mostly will agree, sucks. however, it's always someone and somebody bringing that heat. so what i am trying to do here is get some suggestions and recommendations from all the folks out there who listen to stuff they think others should know about...i guess i'll start it off by listing what is in my cd case and by doing what i love to do most with music, films, women, and dives...rate them...well, rating women is not the best thing to do with them, but i think that this is fairly well-read audience, so there is no need for me to get into specifics involving ggg-intensity type sexual encounters...anyways...

jel-greenball 2-one of those crazy anticon dudes. they've got some beats, but their rhymes suck horrendously. i can't even understand (and by understand, i do not mean comprehend, i mean i cannot audibly make out what those fuckers are saying) their lyrics. so this is the beats without all the whiny, jewish, weird, suburban rhymes...8/10

bettye swann/candi staton-these are represses of these 2 ladies' old stuff. it came out on honest jon's records (which everything they make rocks...trust me...try out "the light of saba" if you like reggae, you will not be disappointed) within this last year. really tight, well done soul from the '60's...they just don't write lyrics like this no more...fr