Remember G.Dep? That album he dropped in ‘01 was not bad, right? Probably the most cohesive rap album on Bad Boy since Biggie, though that ain’t saying too much. I remember when I first came back to New York after college in 2001 and “Special Delivery” was just everywhere here. Even my friend John Koetzle was walking around saying “Special Delivery” every time he hit a J on the court. Man, that was a great time. After a lengthy hiatus (turns out he developed quite the dust habit), the Ghetto Dependent is back making music, and he’s got some decent tracks. I interviewed him for the new issue of XXL with that other disappearing Harlem rapper on the cover.
Figured I’d use this opportunity to post a link to my personal favorite Joey track: his Jersey-pride-swelling circa 2004 (”Yes y’all, it’s the one and only Byron Scott Jersey savior”) freestyle over Funky Green Dogs’ classic house joint “Fired Up” (Note, the video here has a different mix then the version Joe uses). Originally from Lazy K’s Lost and Found, Vol. 1, I believe, though the track and the mixtape have faded into obscurity. Keep it alive.
“Let me take this time to say R.I.P. to Phyllis Hyman/Who never got the props that she damn well deserved…”—Phife Dawg, from A Tribe Called Quest’s “Baby Phife’s Return” (1996)
I’m a sucker for hour-long documentary shows so when I came across UnSung, the TV One network’s new series on overlooked and tragic Black musicians, I was hooked right away. The show (narrated by Al B. Sure!) is modest, with only four episodes in the first season: on the DeBarges, Donny Hathaway, the Clark Sisters and Phyllis Hyman. While it was fascinating to watch the sad tale of Donny Hathaway represented on screen, I was particularly affected by the story of Phyllis Hyman, who—just like Donny—ended her own life after a long bout with mental illness. Mainly because, unlike Donny, I’d never paid much attention to her music before. While I’ve enjoyed her uptempo cuts, like “You Know How To Love Me,” these are rare in her discography. Instead, Hyman is known for heartbreak-minded Quiet Storm fodder, the arrangements of which have always been a little too smooth jazz for my tastes (see her cover of Silky Smooth Grooves alumnus Bobby Caldwell’s “What You Won’t Do For Love,” an otherwise exquisite rendition tainted by Kenny G-style sax). However, after watching this episode and revisiting the material of this nature that Simone has compiled in our iTunes library, I’m open.
Watching the episode, I was struck by a few things. One, of course, being that you need to see her pipes at work live to see how serious they are. But also grace—this diva was certainly not a female version of a hustler. While she battled weight issues (among other demons, including drugs and alcohol) later in life, she was quite a stunning looking woman as well. Just look at some of these photos of a young Phyllis to see what I mean. Below, I’ve embedded a clip I feel really captures the essence of her greatness. It’s a performance of her signature tune, “Living All Alone,” from Nightlife, a short-lived late-night show hosted by comedian David Brenner (Check out the sweatshirt he’s wearing—it’s for Pips in Sheepshead Bay, the only comedy club in Brooklyn for many years until its demise about five years back. Also, who hosts a talk show in a sweatshirt?) Phyllis looks absolutely regal in one of her trademark crowns, and then proceeds to give a fascinating interview afterward (around 5:00) that Brenner probably didn’t deserve to get. Read the rest of this entry »
Friday night, I took Simone to the historic NYC jazz club Birdland (my first time there) to see Bobby Caldwell. Like many from my generation, my introduction to Caldwell’s music comes through hip-hop, namely 2Pac, Biggie and Common/Dilla’s use of his “What You Won’t Do For Love,”“My Flame” and “Open Your Eyes” on “Do For Love”, “Sky’s the Limit” and “The Light,” respectively. Now, when artists on the caliber of ‘Pac, Biggie and (old) Common (not to mention Aaliyah, who interpolated “What You Won’t Do For Love” on her breakthrough “Age Ain’t Nothing But a Number”) have built some of their best songs from one artist’s oeuvre, then there must be something there. And I’ve found that Caldwell was pretty reliable in that early ’80s period—truly one of the finest exponents of blue-eyed soul, and the sort of mid-tempo R&B with jazz flourishes most commonly associated with George Benson.
I can’t say I knew too much about Bobby, or thought of checking him live, before last week. It was close to Valentine’s Day, and he’s got a couple songs Simone and I really like, so I copped the tix. We were in for a surprise. Instead of his hits (though he trotted out a bossa nova version of “What You Won’t Do For Love” near the end), he would be performing standards—stuff like “Come Fly With Me” and “Luck Be a Lady” with a 16-piece big band. Indulging his inner Sinatra, basically. I had a great time, though (thanks, in part, to some Oban on the rocks). Caldwell has the soul of a Rat Packer, and his amateur comedy was actually kind of funny—to me, at least (he also spoke on how, on his first tours, the all-black crowds often felt “duped” when confronted with his whiteness; TK Records had sought to hide this fact, portraying him only in silhouette on early record covers and ads). In honor of that nice Friday night, I’d like to shed some light on some of Bobby’s lesser known jams: Read the rest of this entry »
Two weeks later…
By the late ’80s, Philly was well known for its fiercely competitive, technically innovative hip-hop DJs. Along with (the original) Spinbad, Cash Money and, of course DJ Jazzy Jeff, Tat Money—best known as the DJ for Steady B and, after a move to New York, Kwame—was one of the jocks who made Philly “the home of the DJ,” as some have called it. I spoke with Tat, who’s been backing Schoolly D at gigs recently, about the much debated invention and evolution of the Transformer scratch, his relationship with the incarcerated Steady B., and the amazing 1/2 ‘fro cut he sported in his years with Kwame and A New Beginning (check it here in Kwame’s forgotten “Oneovdabigboiz” video). Jump for the interview. Read the rest of this entry »
Published this review of Ryan Leslie’s self-titled album in the current (February 12-18) issue of Time Out New York. I think I’ve listened to this more than anything else these first few weeks of ‘09. Now, Leslie’s over-the-top, quasi-cheesy loverman persona is not something I always would have copped to taking great personal enjoyment in (what can I say, I’ve matured). And, while I think his video for “How it Was Supposed to Be” is brilliant, I see why people may find it preposterous. I also get why Jon Pareles took a great big crap on this in the Times yesterday. But, while this album probably won’t be greatly received, it has a sort of timeless feel I think will make it hold up even better 20 years from now. The production quality is impeccable and his analog synth leads really make for some memorable melodies, not unlike the work of Kashif, the former BT Express member/’80s R&B artist (who produced Evelyn “Champagne” King’s “I’m in Love” among other synth-driven ’80s R&B classics that still sound great today.)
Gotta interrupt the Philly love for a minute (more Philly rap interviews to come next week). Hearing about Darryl Strawberry’s upcoming tell-all book about the ‘86 Mets’ seven-month-long stripper orgy and coke bender championship season the other day reminded me that I need to represent my hometown a little more in the first week of this young blog. Especially after what happened between us this past football and baseball season; even the wack ass Sixers have taken all three of their games with the (albeit much wacker) Knicks this year. F Philly. Nah, it’s all love, but, really, the thought of this book is making me nostalgic for the best year of the ’80s.
Naturally, I felt compelled to dig up the greatest sports artifact of the last half-century: Darryl Strawberry’s post-1986-World-Series joint with UTFO, Whistle and Richie Rich, “Chocolate Strawberry.” Remember this? I don’t either. I didn’t even hear about it until about 2000, when one of my college-era roommates brought a copy home from a vinyl excursion. Which is amazing, cause if I didn’t know about this, who did? ‘86 was the year I caught the hip-hop bug, thanks to the holytrinity of Rick Rubin. And I was still young enough where likely “Chocolate Strawberry” inspiration, “The Super Bowl Shuffle,” which I remember vividly from the year before, amused me in a non-ironic way.
More importantly, though, the Mets, who were the baseball equivalent of the “Showtime” Lakers and had more colorful personalities than all of the current MLB rosters combined, were the biggest thing in my seven-year-old life. If you’ve ever dealt with me on a personal level, you may be aware that my lifelong nickname is also the name of the pitcher who recorded the last out in Game 7 of the ‘86 Series. Just like every other seven-year-old kid in the Tri-State, though, my idol then was Darryl Strawberry. (Wild how all three of the larger-than-life NY sports heroes of this time—Darryl, Lawrence Taylor and Mike Tyson—were a disgraced wifebeater/alcoholic, crackhead and wifebeater/rapist, respectively, by the time I reached puberty. No wonder steroid scandals bore me.)
Basically, StraweSome Records (amazingly there was a second release on this label that did not feature the Chocolate Strawberry) dropped the ball, ’cause this record should have been a part of my childhood.
Play this clip for “Chocolate Strawberry” audio.
BTW, what a random ending: “So give me your beef, homeboy I’m cookin’/ I can get loose so don’t you try/ I graduated from Crenshaw High. You can even ask Eric Boogie E.” Is he referring to Eazy-E?
Schoolly D’s “P.S.K.” and “Gucci Time” have the most distinctive drum patterns of any hip-hop records I’m aware of. The snares—they’re almost too heavy and thick to call them that—and the kicks have a forcefulness that I’m not sure has ever been reproduced. Yet it’s the insistent hi-hat sound, which starts out both tracks, that is their most distinguishing feature.
For my story on Pop Art Records in the current issue of Wax Poetics, I interviewed Joe “The Butcher” Nicolo, who recorded most of the label and its affiliates’ releases at his downtown Philly facility Studio 4. Turns out, the first rap record that Nicolo (who went on to co-found Ruffhouse Records, signing Nas, Cypress Hill, The Fugees, Kris Kross, Tim Dog and, umm, Schoolly D, among others) engineered was “P.S.K.” b/w “Gucci Time.” I knew this wouldn’t have a place in the story I was writing but I asked him about it: Read the rest of this entry »
This is why I started this blog: to throw up interviews like this. When my homeys at Wax Poeticstold me they were doing a Philly-themed issue, I volunteered to do this story on Lawrence Goodman’s Pop Art label. Having more of an interest than an expertise in Philly rap’s early days, I contacted everyone I could think of for interviews, so I could get the full story. Unfortunately, because of space constraints, I was unable to include anything from this one with EST of Three Times Dope in December.
There isn’t much about 3xD online—and EST’s one of the most unjustifiably overlooked rappers of any era—so I had to get this one out there. For those that don’t know, “The Unusual Fellow” was a one-man slang wave long before E-40, coining terms like “Acknickulous” and “The Giddy Up” with a smooth delivery reminiscent, but not derivative, of Big Daddy Kane. Originally working as part of Steady B’s Hilltop Hustlers camp under the name “3-D,” Three Times Dope released their 1989 Arista debut LP Original Stylin’, before dropping Live From Acknickulous Land in ‘90. They seemed to disappear at this point, but actually released the little-known The Sequel EP in ‘94 and an identically named LP in ‘98. I only recently learned of these, but, as it turns out, they’re quite good. More recently, EST has penned tracks for Britney Spears, Destiny’s Child and others under his gov’t name, Robert Waller. The interview’s after the jump. Read the rest of this entry »
