Hip Hop – Myalogy

The Day My Music Died

zyansaeed615 / March 9, 2017

(one my my earliest Facebook notes….precious in its infancy) TWENTY years ago today, I woke up screaming. I remember it vividly cuz it was my JFK moment. I fell asleep the night prior with the channel tuned to MTV, and awoke to a breaking news alert…Kurt Loder came on and said…Rapper Notorious BIG was shot and killed last night………….. I jumped out of bed, racing around my dorm room frantically looking for a phone, (this news pre-dated my accessibility to laptops, facebook, twitter and whatever else would have allowed me to double and triple check the news.) I need to talk to someone anyone, I just could not be alone. Unfortch the news came so early that no one was answering their phone. I sought solace in the one place I could think of, where I knew my devastation would be shared…I went down to my boy, Ceelo’s room, a true NooYawk nigga. I knew he would understand. See Big came about at a time of great transformation for me. I’d spent the last twelve years with the same folks in the same city, my city, my hometown – Chicago. We were super caught up in Snoop and Dre, (gthangin and gettin high) having been snatched by them from the tight grip of the East Coast Boys we grew up on… RunDMC, Big Daddy Kane, LL, Hev, Tribe, Pre-West Coast Pac…(SIDEBAR: there are many that no me and think I aint got no love for pac…wrong I can never forget the feeling I got the first time I heard the baseline of “Violent” beatin in all the blazers the dopeboys was pushing then, plus Hit’em Up is the BEST dis song of all time…ironic, I know.) Biggie came thru like a tornado for me, takin me back east where I was headed anyway…the ocean kissed shores of Hampton University…..he ushered the rebirth of the east coast that perfectly mirrored my rebirth. My intro to boys in timbs and different accents…swagger before I knew what it was. My attraction to him was both instant and undeniable, all I wanted to do was hear his music, take in his cadence, laugh at his puns, marvel at his ability. His voice grabbed hold of me and never let me go….from the opening intro “come on push, push harder…you did it baby!” to the outro, “im sick of niggas talkin, I sick of bitches hawkin, matter fact Im sick of talkin”, THAT NIGGA HAD ME OPEN. Music was never the same for me. I realized that things done changed, he was telling the industry, “Im here now gimme the loot!” and he was gone use his machine gun without warning to get it. He aint give a fuck cuz he was ready to die, and he wasnt givin your ass one more chance to get with HIS program. WHAT? You heard him right. Wit that juicy sounding mouth, he was saying, “listen to my everyday struggle. My shit is crazy, my baby even got killed behind this shit. Oh, you aint know, oh well, you aint gone believe this one bout me and my bitch!….ahhh, but I digress….my big poppa is gone, but never forgotten he gets all my love and respect as an artist, lyricist, rapper and constant spins in my ipod….In interviews he seemed so funny, cool and fly, I just know if I met him he would have been a friend of mine….Its unbelievable that he’s been gone for 20 years. A lot of times I tear up when I think about him, and how he was snatched from the world so soon. Nah, I ain’t over here havin no suicidal thoughts but to this day it hurts like hell, I miss him, and want him to hold a back from the dead concert. I will always love him……..THE G.O.A.T. – BABY BABAAAAAY! Don’t We look good together?

Uncategorized

A Study in Black and White

zyansaeed615 / July 18, 2016

Myalogist! Ive been unable to can the last couple of weeks with all the goings on and I could talk about them, but I wont, at least not for now. My personal Clive Davis (with me being his sans-crack still alive Whitney) has told me that he would like to reboot this blogsite you, my momma and my cousins read and it got me to thinking that I should write more frequently or at the very least get my co-conspirators to do so…Tone, Big, Tray? #nopressure and #allthepressure. Anyhoots, so imma try to be more faithful to this thing that I hope will break the chains of employment for me. I wont announce any future plans for this space, cuz I likely wont follow thru on them, so for now, just enjoy what you will read today. Today, I will be sharing with you the blackest and whitest things I have seen since we last communed. This will not contain any triggers, but may make you shake your head at your cousins and whatever word my white friends use for their segment of their population who makes them feel great shame and righteous indignation, and no, im not talk bout the poLIcE sillies! THE BLACK BLACKITY BLACKEST OF THEM ALL THIS WEEK: I wish this was a joke. I saw this on Revolt, a station I love because it simulcasts The Breakfast Club starring CHARLAMAGNE MY GOD and two very average yellow people and it introduces me to tons of new music. (lurve that song, makes me happy) Apparently there was a one day pop up photo exhibit in my second home of Atlanta, assembled to celebrate the artistry and influence of………………………Gucci Mane. GUCCI. MANE. This exhibit is the labor of love of one Mr. Cameron Kirkland better known as CAM KIRK. Cam is a proud Morehouse graduate who went on to make a mark in the hip hop scene in ATL as an unofficial, then official photog. He’s worked with a lot of folks, yall. But apparently none more influential as Gucci. Yep….as the opening narration tells us, over a dramatic operatic original score, Cam feels that Gucci is a myth, an icon, and a legend whose influence was much needed in the world at large. Now, I am a pretty well rounded forty year old black chick, who spent a great chunk of her formative years in Atlanta, and I for the life of me, cannot figure out how I missed this information. Maybe you missed it too. That would make me feel less, something. Myth, icon, legend. Got it. Let’s keep this information in mind as we move thru the rest of this piece. The purpose of this exhibit, per Cam, is to provide the vaunted “CULTURE” with something they could touch, see, taste and even smell; a once in a lifetime experience in which he will bring the FANTASY of the trap god to life. He’s created an environment in which you can admire and idolize the trap god lifestyle. (These his words yall; not mine.) Walk with me…lets see if he accomplished what he set out to do. Let’s see how inspiring this is. Let’s see what THE CULTURE BENEFITS. Have these images left you feeling sad that you missed the exhibit? Are you verklempt over not seeing this groundbreaking contribution to THE CULTURE? Have you felt like you saw all of this shit in every rap video ever made since the creation of gangsta rap? Well depending on your answers you can either shake your head at the niggatry or click here to see the full trailer of the blackest thing you will see this week. THE WHITEST THING YOU WILL SEE THIS WEEK. This is Paul Ryan, speaker of the House of Representatives of the United States of America, posing with Capitol Hill interns, in the melting pot of the world. This is the whitest thing I’ve seen this week, and I went to a “Carribbean Fest” in Tinley Park, Illinois that had no jerk food, no steel drums, no reggae, but did have pizza, brats, tamales, people wearing lei’s cuz apparently the hawaii is the carribbean, all set to the festive music of Robert Van Winkle and whoever sings “Pump Up The Jam” – this pic still wins.

Uncategorized

Just Cuz You Got Miseducated…..

zyansaeed615 / May 10, 2016

I don’t really care about Nas. Wu-Tang neither. HATE KRS-ONE. Hate him. I stopped being friends with a person that MADE me watch The Matrix more than one time. Game of Thrones mania escapes me. Does anything different actually happen on the Walking Dead – aside from Run, Kill, Survive, Get eaten? So Chipotle IS worth getting sick and possibly dying for? Mkkkkkay. A lot of shit people think is great; I just don’t really care about or find it horrible. But, one of my closest friends in the world is a SUPER NAS fan, SUPER. We spent many workdays in his office discussing the GOAT’s identity. There is an obvious answer, but I don’t feel like fucking any of you up right now, so, I’m gonna digress. Again, my boy was a Nas fan, and had been a really great friend to me, so when his birthday rolled around and Nas was gonna be in town, there was only one thing to do. Excitedly (I love buying gifts/surprising folks) I went to the Ticketmaster……and saw who was gonna be there with him: The Artist Formerly Known as “This Chick is Doper than Ladybug.” Lboogie what dey call her. I was not pleased. I’m not gonna act like Lauryn changed my life in any MAJOR way. I came of age a little before her time and Mary had already laid claim to my maturation. Blunted on Reality and The Score were really dope albums. “Some Seek Stardom” WAS MY SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT. Rewound, yes kids, the hell out that tape at the conclusion of that song. She was a beautiful chick, talented beyond measure, holding her own with the fellas. (HEY MIRROR!) Then she dropped that got danged album, that gorgeous lush masterpiece. I aint care she told yall to stop wearing weaves. But I did care that her and Mary tore some wack ass dude to shreds. And that she had a joy in her life called Zion. And that she wanted to tell him to let her be patient and to let her be kind and to make her unselfish without her being blind. I cared. Lawd, did I care. I even cared about the follow up – 20 tracks of the same song. Cried like a baby to that album. Why? I dunno. Probs cuz she was crying thru the entire thing. Sadly, it was pretty much all downhill from there. Missed performances, erratic appearances, jail, NO MUSIC, lawsuits, chick started being late for everydamnthing she could. Still I bought the tickets for the concert and hoped against hope – slightly excited at the prospect of seeing them perform “If I Ruled the World”. NAS came on – ripped it (I guess, my friend looked happy) – he did sing his songs with Amy Winehouse, which was enough for me. He performed first, which I’m guessing he was not planning to do, being the headliner and all, but….yall know why. Wrapped up his tight lil set and took his leave. 3 days later, she emerged, clearly not herself, singing songs foreign to our ears, and from the looks on the confused faces of her background singers, foreign to their ears as well. 10 minutes later, we left. As we walked down the street, he said to me “I wished she sang ‘Ex-Factor.’ It broke my heart to tell him that she did. It was just unrecognizable. Never again. NOT EVER will I pay to see her. A free concert would be a tough sell for me. So when Amissah, hit me so full of life and asked “Lauryn? Ravinia?” I couldn’t curse her ass out quick enough for asking me such a dumb ass question. And bout a month later, Lauryn proved me right. She kept fans waiting in Atlanta over two hours, to watch her “perform” after spending their hard earned money on Groupon tickets to see her NOW wack ass. (click the link. I aint lying. You can also find lil Kim tickets there. Okay, now I’m lying.). I heard the performance was dope, but short due to time restrictions at the outdoor venue. A video posted on social media saw a fan taking her to task about her lateness. She told him her driver got lost. He said “bitch, you were at the 4pm sound check. I heard you. I live across the street. Fuck you.” I made up part of that, but that’s what he really wanted to say. Or that’s what I would have wanted to say. The sound check and him living across the street is for true. Atlanta is as big as your thumbnail and if you live mentally or physically in 2016, which is questionable about her, and have GPS, it’s even smaller. You can’t get lost. People were admittedly outraged and took their voices to the world wide web, which prompted her to respond in kind. From Ms. Hill’s Facebook: “I don’t show up late to shows because I don’t care. (Seems that way.) And I have nothing but Love and respect for my fans. (This is a lie. ‘Memba the House of Blues in Chicago? You don’t owe us anything. ‘Memba, Lauryn. Guess we should be thankful and grateful you were only 1.5 hours late that time.) The challenge is aligning my energy with the time, taking something that isn’t easily classified or contained, and trying to make it available for others.” (WAIT, JUST A FUCKIN MINUTE) You telling me, I, who must work for my money, need to extend patience to you for you to align your energies in order for you to appear somewhere you charged me my aforementioned money to see you? How bout dis? Wait til your on/off switch is set to on. Get open, rested, do whatever you need to do to feel “sensitive and liberated” then do a free concert in the park and promote it on Facebook. Don’t sell tickets and waste my time and money, muthafucka. I’m over being miseducated by you.

Uncategorized

The Loss of A Legend

zyansaeed615 / March 24, 2016

My writing bring all the boys to the yard and they’re like, it’s better than yours. Damn right, it’s better than yours I could teach you……but you cant teach genius, boo. Today’s guest column is brought to you by the homie, Brendan aka Big aka Big Man aka Socks aka Bree Daddy aka my bruh bruh. You can usually find him writing some lightweight porn, but he chose to rush the blood to his other head to pontificate on the loss of Phife Di-Dog, who needs no introduction…. Without any further adieu, ado, adew…Brendan? “I’m all that and then some, short dark and handsome/ bust a nut inside ya eye, to show you where I come from……. –Phife Dawg We lost another hip hop legend on 3/23/16 from arguably the greatest hip hop group of all time. Phife Dawg aka the five foot assassin (Malik Isaac Taylor) was the street in A Tribe Called Quest. This little dude brought an epic flow with his high pitched voice and unique metaphors. This one right here, is personal for me. See this group in my mind was THE greatest hip hop group of all time. Not because of record sales, not because of Grammy’s or street cred. This group was the epitome of Hip Hop to me in the Golden Era of hip hop. They kicked mad flows, had dope beats, wore the flyest gear and spoke about things I as a 16 year old kid could relate to. I remember listening to “The Low End Theory” and thinking these dudes are dope. No raps about drugs or cars or girls, but about life. Beats, Rhymes and life! (See what I did right there). Phife had the dope custom jersey’s (The Seton Hall joint was banana’s), and the illest skills in the group. “I like my beats hard like two day old shit……” WHAT!!?? Gritty videos on the streets of New York made me like these cats even more. It looked like my block. They wore what I wore. I wanted to do a video on the rooftop of the cleaners on 47th and Indiana because of these dudes. No hype man, no huge entourage, just skills. Back then hip hop didn’t make you see the artist as entertainers, but as cats you knew, or cats who your boys knew. They spoke about things we did. Damn right I made sure that “before I get the butt the Jim must be erect!” Now I’m sure my mom wasn’t feeling that last line but my boys loved it! Tribe called Quest wasn’t pretentious, made up, (Phife and Q Tip met at the age of 2) or planted by the major labels. They were just two cats and a DJ with skills. And my generation respected that more than anything. And speaking of skills………… Phife Dawgs so called coming out party was “Bugging Out” on their second album “The Low End Theory”. This album was special to me because I grew up in what is called the Low End of Chicago. But this was the first time we heard Phife really display his skills on the mic.” Yo, microphone check one, two, what is this? The five foot assassin with the roughneck business/ I float like gravity, never had a cavity/Got more rhymes than the Winans got family” You know how many rhymes this cat must have to have MORE rhymes that the Winans got family? That’s a big ass family! Take THAT Drake! Unfortunately, fame, money, ego and “The Industry” sent A Tribe Called Quest through a myriad of issues. The group broke up after its fifth major label album and it was never the same after that. Phife Dawg was well documented as a diabetic and struggled with the disease. Q Tip moved on to do solo projects but never reached the heights of his former group. Ali Shaheed, probably the least heralded member of the group, did what most DJ’s do, continued to spin records. Fast forward to 2008 and Phife underwent a kidney transplant due to complications from diabetes. His wife was the donor and it seemed like Phife was on his way to better health and maybe even bless us with A Tribe Called Quest reunion album. But you can’t catch lightening in a bottle. You can’t recreate the past. While the group did shows and toured, partially to help Phife with medical bills, it was never the same. This is indeed the end of an era, one of the greats has passed and not from gun violence, but from complications from medical issues we’ve known about since day 1. It’s a bit surreal and almost unheard of for hip hop entertainers in this day and age. Ohh and in case some young kid is reading this like “So what, he was just an old rapper”. Dude if it wasn’t for this cat and his group, you wouldn’t know who Busta Ryhmes is………..Respect is due! RIH Phife Dawg. A-yo Bo knows this (what?) and Bo knows that (what?) But Bo don’t know jack, cause Bo can’t rap Well what do you know, the Di-Dawg, is first up to bat No batteries included, and no strings attached No holds barred, no time for move faking Gots to get the loot so I can bring home the bacon Brothers front, they say the Tribe can’t flow But we’ve been known to do the impossible like Broadway Joe so Sleep if you want NyQuil will help you get your Z’s, troop But here’s the real scoop I’m all that and then some, short dark and handsome Bust a nut inside your eye, to show you where I come from I’m vexed, fuming, I’ve had it up to here My days of paying dues are over, acknowledge me as in there (yeah!) Head for the border, go get a taco Watch me wreck it from the jump street, meaning from the get-go Sit back relax and let yourself go Don’t sweat what