WE BUILT THIS CITY… (ReMix)

March 23rd, 2006

my name is...

The New York Historical Society has spent a grip of money on what could have been a meaningful, dynamic and far reaching exhibit titled “Slavery in New York”. The exhibit could have told the story of how the chattel slave trade allowed America to usurp the position of world power from the British by exploiting a base of free labor for the over 300 hundred years that it was in place. The exhibit could have told the story of the slaves that constructed the wall in lower Manhattan that was designed to fend off pirates and Indians. That location would later be known as Wall Street.

The story of Slavery in America has been opened by scholars before but I was excited to see a discussion of the subject as it was related to Early New Yorker’s mercantile successes.

Everyone likes to think of slavery as a phenomenon exclusive to the American South. And while it is true that the majority of the slave population existed in the South, the difference between North and South was probably less than the percentage by which Bush stole the election.

In fact, New York was the largest slave-holding state in the North. Brooklyn? Plantation city. Ditto for Queens, Long Island and Upper Manhattan. Funny thing is, not that much has changed. Only the jig masters now go by North Face and Starbucks instead of Hamilton and Lefferts.

The letdown for me with what could have been a powerful exhibit was the fact that so many names were withheld. Where are the Carnegies, the Vanderbilts, the DuPonts? For crissakes, where the hell are the Rockerfellers?!? No one controls more New York jigs today than the Rockerfeller family.

ROC-A-FELLA y’all.

Jamaicans ARE NOT the Gulliest Immigrants! (ReMix)

March 22nd, 2006

the prez

As I was reading the free newspaper that they hand out before you get on the subway, I caught an interesting editorial trick. In an article about the NYC policeman who was recently murdered, they made sure to note that the alleged assailant is Jamaican. This fact will presumably have no bearing in court. However, it appears that in the jury of public consensus this man is already guilty. This started me to thinking about what Caribbean island fields the gulliest, most gator batch of immigrants. You might be surprised, but Jamaica isn’t even in the top three, despite the fact that they can run a 200m sprint barefoot.

haiti boy

haiti boy still dead

The Caribbean island with the gulliest would-be immigrants has to be Haiti. These fools have been known to sit on a single car tire and try to float to Florida. They have also been known to take that same tire, fill it up with gasoline, set it on fire and then place it on top of people during a political disagreement. Of all the knuckleheads that I know personally, dudes like HAITIAN MIGUEL and HAITIAN GREGGS are problem children.

mike is crazy

The second gulliest Caribbean island is definetly Cuba for the simple fact that CASTRO has refused to join this American gravy train. Plus the Cubans do reederkulezz shiite to get on American soil. My buddy CUBAN MARK told me the story of his crazy father coming to the U.S. on a raft during the height of the missile crisis. CUBAN is one of the dudes most likely to hit you over the head with a raft when he and BILLY SUNDAY have been on a drinking binge.

Pushing the Jamaicans out of the top three is the upstart upscale resort island of Aruba. I mean, the island is only 70 square miles and they still haven’t found this broad?

natalee

Art or Commercial Bullshiite? (ReMix)

March 22nd, 2006

fitty

A few months ago we nailed home the concept that this Hip-Hop shit wasn’t thorough enough to be called a culture. After reading the latest Vanity Fair rag I found out that the Hip-Hop that I was brought up on wasn’t even art. Its all commercial bullshiite.

The Vanity Fair article detailed the true story of the Robinson family, the founders of SugarHill Records. The story decribed how the Robinson family was indebted up to their eyeballs to the T.I. mafia. They were desperate to find that ‘next nigger shit’. SYLVIA ROBINSON goes to the legendary Harlem World nightclub to see what kind of disco music the jigs are vibing to. She experiences a Hip-Hop party and right then she knows that she has stumbled onto her pot of gold. She can’t understand what is being said by the emcees and she could care less, all she knows is that this thing is going to be huge. She runs back to New Jersey and literally picks up three jigs off the street and brings them to her home studio. Listening to ‘Rapper’s Delight’ it wasn’t hard to tell that the music was stolen from the CHIC classic ‘Good Times’, but the hammer that was dropped on my head is this… most of the ryhmes used for the song were stolen from the rhymebook of GRANDMASTER CAZ. One of the emcees on the record was a manager for COLD CRUSH BROTHERS and asked CAZ if he could borrow his rhymebook for a meeting he had in New Jersey. CAZ thought that he might be getting put on so he gave up his book to that loser. How apropo is it that the very first incarnation of recorded Hip-Hop has jigs stealing other jigs creative talent? I won’t even complain now when JAY-Z does a cover of B.I.G.’s ‘Juicy’.

Fast forward to the present and Hip-Hop, ne, crap music is a global phenomenon in how it mobilizes and motivates the youth. Crap music determines what is of value to these kids. It constantly tells them what to buy. What has become even more insipid is that crap music tells people what to think and how to react. The pathos of ‘Get Rich or Die Trying’ is that you would do anything for money. That life has a transferrable price in dollars and cents. 50 CENTS.

CURTIS JACKSON is crap music’s greatest prophet for profit because he has maximized his popularity by being this multimedia juggernaut. You can’t turn away from the 50 CENTS character. The television plays his music videos and then incessantly airs commercials that hype the big screen biopic coming to theaters this month. The radio plays the soundtrack to his videogame. I walk into a bookstore in order to escape the madness and right in the center of the store is an entire table table filled with 50 CENTS’ book. Yes, his book! This last irony forces me to sit down in one of the oversized leather chairs and contemplate the future of the children that I see around me. 50 CENTS considered the only two options for his life were guns or microphones. He never mentioned books.

50 CENT says in one of the voiceovers segments for the movie that he got into crap music because unlike drugs he couldn’t be prosecuted for selling a lot of records. That was the motivation for this ‘bullshiite artist’. Crap music will never again be art. It’s all just commercial bullshiite.

Has Anyone Seen My UNCLE TOM? (ReMix)

March 21st, 2006

UNCLE T

Only a few years ago my UNCLE TOM was a supernova on the American political landscape. He was so hot that even some white folks considered inviting him over to their house for dinner. You know, to actually sit and eat, not to buss the table.

The next thing I knew, Uncle Tom and Aunt Jemima weren’t getting along in the big house. It looked like my Uncle Tom would have to go back to doing field work. But something happened on the way out of the big house’s backdoor. I really hope that my Uncle Tom didn’t trip on one of massa’s shotguns or hang himself by accident with one of massa’s Jack Ketch collars.

One thing is for sure. I haven’t heard nor seen neither hide nor hair of my Uncle Tom.

The PRINCE and the PEANUTHEAD (ReMix)

March 21st, 2006

peanuts

It’s now official that the JIGGAMAN and NASFERATU have combined forces. This is surely an attempt to somehow capitalize on the G-UNOT bandwagon that is picking up steam. At JAY-Z’s ‘I Declare War’ concert the climax(no homo) was when NAS was introduced on stage. The show had a few other pleasant surprises and the usual suspects showed up as well. The following info is from the fags at the Village Voice…

Jay-Z didn’t dis anyone tonight, not 50 Cent or Cam’ron or Game. I feel a little ridiculous saying this after all the time I’ve spent publically wondering who Jay’s target would be, and Jay’s big surprise, Nas, wasn’t a surprise, at least not if you’ve been obsessively combing the internet dorking out over clues the way I have. But please believe me when I say that I am not the slightest bit disappointed; no one I heard leaving the Continental Airlines Arena was either. Even if you thought you knew it was coming, it was still a dumb-out moment: Jay stopping “Where I’m From” at the “Biggie, Jay-Z or Nas” part, falling silent for a minute, telling the crowd that the concert was called “I Declare War” but decided that it was bigger than that. And then: “You know what I did for y’all? You know what I did for hip-hop? I said fuck that shit! Let’s go, Esco!” Nas rising behind Jay on an elevator at the top of a staircase, doing the hook on “Dead Presidents.” And then the two of them standing side by side at the center of the stage, arms behind them, Nas wearing army greens and Tims, hat off to the side of his head, Jay wearing expensive-looking sunglasses and a black tracksuit, soaking in the atmosphere. There was a great moment near the end when Nas stood side by side with Jay, Kanye, and Diddy, like it was rap’s Mount Rushmore or some shit.

BEANIE SIEGEL also signed with the R.O.C. pushing aside all that G-UNIT talk and the LOX performed with DIDDY as well. So there you have it, a new era in mainstream commercial crap music has everyone becoming friends again. I don’t mind it at all, but is this what the kids in the exurbs want to purchase? Do they want to see crappers being friends or do they want to see the ‘urban safari’ that they imagine these crappers live in?

The good news for all the well-heeled suburban crap music fans is that the DefJam armistice will prah’lee go against the G-UNIT juggernaut in the next few weeks. You just know the T.I.’s aren’t gonna stop this black-on-black violence money machine now especially with the rate of prison inmates soaring. Free labor = more money, more money, more money.

ROC-A-FELLA y’all.