When I heard that a Mets’ fan from Queens New York caught the 756th home run hit by BARRY BONDS I thought that I had somehow transported myself to San Francisco for a day. Don’t sleep, it could’a gone down like that if my paper was in order. And when ‘if’ is a spliff we will all get high.
Shouts to 40 and MEKA for holding down the page while I went for a ride on the spaceship. I owe y’all cats something from the DP Dot Com collection archives. I need to change the page that describes the DP Dot family too. Over the past year COMBAT JACK, Tony’s Kansas City and 40 DAWG have represented themselves for the thought movement better than I have. It’s time for me to get back on my grizzly over here something serious, before I start coming to DP Dot Com to read everybody’s shit except for DALLAS PENN.
What up Fuxxx? What up El Gringo? What up Belize? What up Pardon Me Duke? What up Enigmatik? Holler at my nigga UnKut. I gotta run across the street to the XXL site and drop some shit if I want to keep that check in my mailbox. Being an iNTERNETS CELEBRITY is the shit, but it sure don’t keep the light bill paid.
Editor’s note: S.F.U. director of West Coast operations, Meka Soul from HipHopDX dot com, gives us an oh, so crispy drop on the Sneaker Pimps jumpoff in the City of Angels.
First off, I’d like to take the time to thank Mr.Penn for blessing me with this opportunity, so I’ll try my best to maintain the integrity of this site and keep the random-ass jibba jabba I spew on my own shit down to a minimum.
If there’s one thing I love as much as my moms, hip-hop and cola bottle-shaped women, it’d have to be my unequivocal appreciation for the glorified feet covers I wrap my ankles in almost every single day. While I don’t have the extensive collection as my East Coast blogging brethren, the respect I share for the sneaker culture is unparalleled. So attending the Sneaker Pimps event was a major thing for me, as I had missed last year’s incarnation while I was on vacation in the Rotten Apple.
Pulling into the parking lot around 8:30 pm, I noticed that the line was already beginning to stretch around the block since parties in Los Angeles shut down way too early. While I waited to get into the venue I shot a couple flicks of the kicks that were also being displayed on the line.
Once I got inside, I avoided the bar, and instead made a bee line straight for the shoes that lined the walls, tables, booths and even the broads that were there. I fell in love a little bit with this chick rocking the De La Soul Dunks, but I had to mask my inner emotions because, you know, I’m a cynic like that.
While the host tried to egg on the partygoers to smack the shit out of anyone who had on fakes, I played it cool, snapping away shots of the painters creating masterpieces everywhere. It was also around this time I caught the attention of some other photographers wanting to shoot me, since I was freshly dipped in an ice cold pair of Storm Dunks, not to mention I had the Cal on me a Lucky Seven Dunk on my hip. True story, I was straight styling on these fools.
I then walked into the Dunk Xchange, where a DJ spun classics like Raekwon’s “Verbal Intercourse,” Channel Live’s “Mad Izm” and Jay-Z’s “So Ghetto,” among others. Any other time I might have been thrilled by the fact that duke gave the joints I blast in my iPod some burn, but I was more or less bummed out that half the crowd just stood around like retarded second-graders, not knowing the catalog being played belonged to the rappers whose knobs they shine on the daily. It also didn’t help that when the DJ threw on Lil Wayne, they all went apeshit. Hip-hop died a little bit at that moment.
All that changed when Redman jumped on the stage, ripping through his entire catalog and spraying the fans with beer at the same time. I would have stayed to see Paul Wall and Swizz Beatz, but I left after Funk Doc left because a) I don’t like Paul Wall and Swizz Beatz like that, and b) I positioned myself next to a set of speakers during Red’s performance to get good shots and was totally deaf after 20 minutes.
All in all, Sneaker Pimps was an interesting experience. While it didn’t fully meet my expectations, the love that this once-unknown sub-genre received more than made up for it. My only qualm for next year is that they don’t allow any grown-ass dudes inside if they’re rocking their sister’s skinny jeans and a young-ass, V-neck muscle shirt, as if that shit ain’t sideways soft. I saw way too many of thosebattybwoys.
Editor’s note: A 40 DAWG homage to the greatest jig hairstyle. Evar.
The hi-top fade hit the black community like everything else in the 80’s – HARD. Seeking a reprieve from the chemically processed curls, and with the shag/ducktail going the way of “The Smurf” dance, young black males sought out a new defining coif. The classic fade cut was nothing new, I got pics of my Uncle Chappie attending a Harlem Rens game with his era’s interpretation of “close on the sides and leave some on top”. For the most part the fade in previous manifestations had been more military than militant. Flash forward to 1986, the year it seemed everything changed.
The lore of the era was that the hi-top was an homage to the way we rocked our wigs in the motherland and with everything based in something African at this cultural crossroads I figured it made some sense. However I think we need to give more credit to the codpiece clad funkonaut Larry Blackmon who’s band became the names sake of this cut. Other early names I knew for the cut bore regional names like “The Philly” or “The Jersey”. Discrepancy of origin aside we all skinned off the sides and let the top run amok. The hi-top fade was my first real foray into “affordable style” for the kid. Moms wasn’t coming off the loot for fashions of the day, and the cautionary tales of friends and relatives caught in the crack game didn’t push me into that form of employ for financial gain. However I had my man Junior Black who was holding it down with the clippers in his mom’s basement. He had all the pics from the legendary Kinapps in Brooklyn which had intricate designs like “Ashanti Warrior” and “The Sudan”, so if my gear was subpar I was gonna keep my wig game proper. J.Black knocked out some classics out of that basement, slopes, Gumbies, bleached out fronts, parts, designs, steps*, etc.
Like everything else that goes mainstream there is the good and the bad. Christopher “Kid” Martin made a whole career largely on that do, on the flip no one singlehandedly did more to destroy the hi-top fade than R&B supergroup TROOP. I’m glad the music industry was not as visual oriented as it is today because their career would have been submarined by letting
LeatherFace be their barber. (Actually I think it caught up to them eventually!). I think we can all say by 1991 the hi-top fade was replaced by brothers who dreaded theirs out or deaded it all together. I think I speak for the masses when we spend the last 15 years of our life ridiculing some of those high school photos and shiver when “House Party” comes on and have to explain to the babies that “Yes I actually had my hair like that.”
“But I don’t party and shake my butt, I leave that to the brothers with the funny haircuts!” – (c)Ice Cube, “Jackin’ 4 Beats”.
Man that line pissed me off when I first heard it, Coming from a cat who was still sleeping with a shower cap on and could make any community pool seem like the Exxon Valdez accident by merely jumping in. But as time has gone on maybe O’Shea Jackson was actually right. White folks had their cut – THE MULLET, and Billy Ray Cyrus got by on his hair as much as Kid did. Plus if you see that Mullet Family pic in the drop Dallas had a little while back you need no more further evidence on its hilarity. Well I’d like to put The Hi-Top Fade into that same pool. Yeah we were all cool as fuck when it we rocked it, but we also gotta let the past stay the past and enjoy the historical humor that it currently provides.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m hella proud of some of the dynamic fades I rocked, (in fact I’m trying to find one to put on my passport pictures) but somethings just need to stay in the past like smallpox and swine flu. I hear hipsters trying to promote the return of the hi-top, and if you ask me all these Williamsburg emigrants can all go somewhere with that. It was great while it lasted and while we lived it, and just because companies have “retroed” all types of nostalgia so people can get a second chance, I think this one just needs to be preserved in the annals of Hip-Hop History…
*Regarding “The Steps” – my mother so hated that haircut in the picture that after having it for that one day she marched me to the barbershop to get me a full fledged scalping. In regards to the level of pain inflicted, it still ranks on the top 10 punishments. EVAR.
True story is that I need Mondays to catch up on my sleep because my weekends are so banana bread crazy. As soon as my 9-2-5 shut down on Friday afternoon it was on like Cheech and Chong in a Sean John thong.
My peeps at The Brooklyn Circus invited me to the launch of their summer sale called the Black Out. Brooklyn Circus is my man fifty grand from forever, AL D Square along with a consortium of his homies. Together they are taking Brooklyn’s fashion forward sense and going worldwide with their movement.
Whenever they are in town from overseas, mostly Japan, I know they have some sick shit for me to copp. They had a mean run of limited SBTG x Nike Dunks up in that piece and they were priced right as well. At the end of that day that’s all that really matters to me. Vitamin Water… Not so much.
After I left the Brooklyn Circus I slid over to the Prospect Park bandshell to eff with the Teacher a/k/a Blastmaster KRS-1. Actually, Ladybug Mecca was opening for KRS and I imagine that Digable Planets would have done a track or two in honor of ‘Blowout Comb’, but even with their initials as D.P. I couldn’t get to the park on time. KRS was on time however and he reigned supreme this night in Brooklyn.
The teacher, KRS-1
What a lot of people don’t know is that KRS-1 actually hails from the county of Kings. His classic song ‘South Bronx’ was an homage to the beginnings of Hip-Hop as he experienced them. KRS moved us to shout out loud, nod our heads, wave our hands and stomp our feet with his definition of Hip-Hop and his catalog of hit songs. Being hip to something is having knowledge and intelligence, while the hop is about getting your body up and down instead of standing still. Hip-Hop to KRS-1 is the intelligent movement of a generation. KRS-1 may be batshit crazy sometimes, but like E.F. Hutton, when he talks, everybody listens. Peep this interview with him over at UnKut dot com.
The following day started like most weekends with me giving praise to the most high for getting me through another week. I had a call on my cellphone from SoundWave who came into New York City overnight from Virginia Beach. It’s been a minute that I have seen my dude ever since he came home. I haven’t made a trip to VA Beach in forever and he usually comes to NYC in true ninja style, getting in and out in the same day.
My homie E.R. a/k/a The Black Marty Markowitz had just texted me a day earlier with an offer to go to the Zune ‘Live At The BBQ’ concert. The lineup was dope too, but I almost didn’t consider effing with it because the people at Zune shitbagged me. Back in June I asked the Zune people to sponsor the cRap Music Fantasy League. No big commitment either. Just a free Zune player to the winner of this round and in return I would take my joint out of the box and preview it instead of selling it on eBay. These dudes didn’t even return my e-mail. So I felt a little ways about supporting their brand. Good thing I called E.R. and took him up his offer. This Zune ‘Live At The BBQ’ concert has trumped every event I have been to this summer. Including the Rock The Bells concert last week.
First of all, E.R. is like the ‘hoods mayor and he had us laced with VIP status. This was the kind of VIP status that the game needs more of. Free food and unlimited free drinks. I wish RAFI could have been here because this was the event that he deserved to chill at. We’ve had to work at the Brooklyn Hip-Hop Festival and the Rock The Bells show, albeit iNternets Celebrity work isn’t actual work either, but today I got to be strictly a fan of Hip-Hop again and just chill my will. I saw some great stage shows while listening to some great Hip-Hop music.
JOELL ORTIZ opened the show up. You already know that I’m riding for this dude to win, hardbody. JOELL is the young truth in rap music today. He’s not inventing silly dance anthems or nursery rhyme songs. Nothing but straight up Hip-Hop from this dude.
JOELL ORTIZ featuring Jadakiss and Saigon – ‘Hip-Hop(remix)’
Boot Camp Clik represented with Smif-n-Wessun and Buckshot Shorty. Masta Ace came through and spit some of his joints. The Clipse, along with the Re-Up Gang did a set of their joints. Large Professor was in the building as well. While J Period held down the decks for the entire afternoon, he brought out the Lox, and even brought back together the Brand Nubians. Yes. Grand Puba, Sadat X and Lord Jamar. How the hell can you say you aren’t fucking with Brand Nubians? Do us all a favor. Stick your favorite rapper’s high heeled shoes in your eyesocket and then put your head in an oven and just kill yourself.
BRAND NUBIAN – ‘Love Me, Or Leave Me Alone’
I hadn’t seen the Lox perform for a minute either since I caught this B.I.G. tribute at the old Palladium in Manhattan. Individually they all have had a gang of hits since then. Jadakiss is still one of the most underrated rappers for someone with his lyrical skill. Inside the VIP section, which was nearly as crowded as the general admit area it was the place to debate who the G.O.A.T. rapper was. Everyone’s favorite punching bag music blogger TOM BRIEHAN was in that piece and still repping the Baltimore Orioles.
BRIEHAN asked me what the deal was and why the beef wasn’t squashed yet. I told dude everything was everything, but he was like, “Nahh man, why you had to shit on me when you was going at Noz?” I couldn’t recall what was said because just like Jay-Z, I never write any of this shit down, but BRIEHAN remembered exactly. My bad TOM. There’s a place at the Hip-Hop table for you and Noz, well actually, maybe just you.
I chopped it up for a few minutes with IAN from Notes. IAN’s site was one of the places that I framed DP Dot Com after. I wanted a site that described the Hip-Hop generation for our comprehensive worldviews and our knowledge of the political arena. If you aren’t familiar with Notes From A Different Kitchen leave this site now and acquaint yourself. It’s serious like that. And the Zune concert was so serious that even Eskay took a break from his laboratory, Nah’Right dot com, to come through. Eskay prah’lee came to see the Brand Nubian reunion and the Lox performance was an added bonus.
The Zune people definitely surprised me because the shit was thorough like a muv all day long. The free food was dope, the free booze was very necessary and the headliner was the G.O.A.T. of solo rap artists. LL Cool J got on stage and did a forty five minute set that was high fucking energy. This dude gets down like it was 1987 all over again. I remember seeing LL like twenty years ago in Madison Square Garden for this concert called Fresh Fest. Run-DMC were the headliners and EPMD. Public Enemy. KRS-1, Whodini and Rakim all performed. LL did this shit were he busted out of a boom box radio. The set wasn’t even that elaborate on Saturday, but LL still killed shit without a hypeman. I hate to go on and on about this concert, but damn, I won.
LL COOL J – ‘Mama Said Knock You Out’
LL COOL J – ‘Rock The Bells’
When I got back around the way there was still over an hour of music left at the Brooklyn Museum of Art. Every August their First Saturday program is centered around Caribbean culture and art. The expansive parking lot hosts a reggae dancehall party that is the precursor to the Labor day parade on Eastern Parkway. I always enjoy peeping the local snowflakes cruising for some Carib action. I tell the ladies to back up because I already have my own snowflake, and she’s a Chocolate Snowflake. It’s called the best of both worlds. C.S. and I are going to Wingate Field tonight to see LAURYN HILL in concert. I hope ol’ girl comes with her classic shit instead of that weepy crap she’s been passing off lately. We’ll see how it all goes down. Holler at a blogger when you see one on the streets.
Shouts to RAY – the founder, president, cameraman and sometimes janitor @ Mighty Healthy clothing company
