I’m sorry to break up the usual nonsense up in >bounce, but I need to be serious for a minute. Those of you with no tolerance for seriousness (I don’t blame you), please come again later in the week. [-gforce]
Last Friday, Milwaukee DJ Rock Dee passed away. Actually, saying “passed away” seems to minimize what was certainly a horrific episode; for some reason, Rock Dee committed suicide (according to this). He left behind a wife, a two year old daughter and I think at least one other child from a previous marriage.
I didn’t know Rock as well as others in the Milwaukee DJ community (that’s us in the photo above). He’d been to my house a few times, and he gave me my first DJ gig. He was a fixture in the local house scene, and everyone seemed to know him. He’d been DJing and producing since the ’80s, and had a few notable records on his resume, including one with Speech from Arrested Development. Heartbreakingly enough, he signed all of his emails with “No Stress - God Bless!”
But the reason I’m writing this post isn’t really to eulogize Rock Dee. I’ll leave that to his best friends, wife and family. It’s because I just feel like I need to speak up about suicide.
Six years ago, my father died from a self-inflicted gunshot wound. It was horrible to grieve his death, and even worse to endure other people’s discomfort with the way he died. I lost friends, listened to moralizing condemnations and watched my family try to cover it up. It was the worst trauma I ever hope to endure. I know I’m stronger for it, but I would never wish it on anyone.
Folks, we need to start talking about this shit. Did you know that twice as many Americans die by suicide than get murdered? And about 90 percent of those that “complete” suicide suffer from a diagnosable mental disorder?
What does that mean? We all need to be less afraid of getting killed and more afraid of getting depressed. We need to recognize depression in ourselves, our friends and families, and treat it. We need to be able to talk about suicide and bring it out into the open if we want to make a difference. Of course, you can’t stop somebody if they’re determined to take their own life. But I have to think some lives could be saved if we weren’t so afraid of the subject.
Take care of yourselves and your loved ones. If you think somebody is going to kill themselves, have the courage to ask. Let them know you don’t want them to die, and call a suicide hotline (1-800-273-TALK) to ask what to do next.
Let’s not let Rock Dee’s death be marked with just another whisper-filled funeral. I have no idea what his circumstances were that made him make this decision, or even if anybody could have known. Rock Dee was a proud guy, and I suspect he was very secretive about all of this. But what I know is this: we need to start talking about this awfulness so that we might have fewer funerals.
Jimmy Spicer Money (Dollar Bill Y’all) 12″, 1983
The first record I played for my that first DJ job that Rock Dee set me up with, at Milwaukee’s Summerfest. I was terrible, fumbling and embarrassed. But Rock Dee was very kind and encouraged me to keep on, even giving a little speech afterward about how even a 30something mom-of-two can decide to be a DJ, if they love music enough.
Do you know what December brings out in me? No, it’s not my Christmas Tree earrings. It’s my hella rude attitude. I know I should be rockin the Santa hat and baking you some damn cookies, but honestly, all I want to do is drink with some of my folks, and hear some Christmas-free joints.
So for you, the Morebounce crüe, here are the most anti-holiday jammies I’m bumpin right now:
Missy Elliot The Rain (Supa Dupa Fly) Supa Dupa Fly, 1997
Dark, bass-heavy and a little confusing. Has nothing to do with Santa or fruitcake.
Public Enemy I Can’t Do Nuttin’ for Ya Man Fear of a Black Planet, 1990
I am actually not a Public Enemy fan. But the thought of Flava Flav in any capacity puts me in just the right no-holiday spirit.
Statik Selektah Bam Bam Spell My Name Right, 2007
Not really sure why I love this right now. It’s not really anything different from anything else out there, but one thing I know for sure: it doesn’t have Paul McCartney or a single jingle bell in it.
Riskay Smell Yo Dick Single, 2007
Not only does it have absolutely no references to trees, snow or ice skating, this song is brilliant in every way. I will listen to it well into the Easter season.
Hey, in case you live in Burma or some shit, Kanye West is coming out with a new album this month. And I’ve been thinking. Everyone is raving about the dope production, but c’mon. It’s still Ye Ye, so you know the rhymes make you cringe.
So I propose that we roll things back to the “Through the Wire” days. Wire Kanye’s shit closed, and give us an album we can all be proud of.
Top 10 arguments:
1. Graduation would be the hottest album ever, if we didn’t have to listen to Kanye’s bullshit. Couldn’t he have given the rhymes to Common? That brother is fine, and he spits like Barry White with a conscience.
3. We here at Morebounce Publications are really sorry that Jay-Z didn’t say “Hi” to you that one time, but is a whole song about it necessary? “I told Jay I did a song with Coldplay/Next thing I know, he got a song with Coldplay?” I think I read that shit in my high school burn book.
4.
5. Seriously. Chess King called, and you owe them $9.99 for those broke-ass sunglasses.
6. Barry Bonds is the most slammin’ cut on Graduation. Kanye, can you please stop rapping?
7. In today’s hip hop landscape, there honestly isn’t much market for Carlton-Rap.
8. Kanye, you really are such a talented producer. Graduation is multi-faceted: it draws on a wide range of styles, and it’s the anti-this, for which we’re grateful. But “You should be honored by my lateness/ That I would even show up for this fake shit?” Boy, stop.
9. We get it. You like Louis Vuitton. And yours looks so real!
I got beef with the media. Now, this is something totally different for me, because I usually defend the media’s right to determine what’s newsworthy, exercise free speech, and sell advertising. It’s the way the industry works, if not necessarily in that order, and I’ve always respected that. Until now.
Can somebody please explain to me how a fuckstick like Don Imus can insult a whole basketball team, race, and gender in one statement, and weeks after the incident, hip hop is defending itself? In case you live in Burma and missed it, check this series of events:
1 - Imus blurts an oblivious and clumsy racial epithet, gets appropriately canned and reviled.
2 - The talk shows blow up, Maya Angelou says “all vulgarity is vulgarity.”
3 - Talk radio hosts: “if you condemn Imus, you cannot morally listen to hip hop.” (my favorite examples of this came from white middle aged bloggers and radio hosts.)
4 - Russell Simmons calls for labels to voluntarily bleep certain words from all hip hop releases.
Hip hop has taken so many knocks over the years from so many sources, it’s predictable that it comes up in discussions about race relations. But for folks to draw a line from a hillbilly’s ignorant and public racist insults to Snoop’s right to use the word “bitch” on a record is ridiculous. For starters, record companies know that most people who buy hip hop are white males, so today’s hip hop is largely devoid of racist insults.
But even if Snoop decided to call a white woman a “stupid cracka chickenhead,” for example, it would never be broadcast in public, on the air, and most likely, it would never be about a real, named group of women. Snoop is way too weeded up to come up with that shit.
I think it’s what the bougie writers call context.
And if you don’t enjoy hearing other women referred to as stupid cracka chickenheads, then I suppose you could just not listen to that record. Yes, vulgarity is vulgarity. And we should be free to choose not to hear it on public airwaves. But hip hop artists ought to be free to say whatever stupid shit they want to, and if people don’t have the same passion for stupid shit that this blogger does, then don’t buy it. Communities have a funny way of setting their own standards that way.
So why is the media all on the hip-hop-is-bad tip this month? I guess it’s selling advertising. But this story is not based in truth; it’s based on exploitation of the too-common misunderstanding that hip hop is, in itself, a societal ill. That’s what white boomers have always thought, and God help us, they happen to be running the media and the country these days.
Some of my favorite stupid shit:
Snoop Dogg Go Away Tha Last Meal, 2000 My all-time favorite use of the word “bitch” at 3:22. Gratuitous filth throughout.
Black Sheep Hoes We Knows A Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing, 1991 Answers, in detail, the question: “Dres, what’s it with you and all those hoes?”
Jay-Z feat. Memphis Bleek 2 Many Hoes Blueprint 2: The Gift and the Curse, 2002 Hova’s in on the ho game too, though much more artfully, evident as he advises a young ho to “disappear like Copperfield, go cop a feel.” Diamond D & the Psychotic Neurotics Sally Got a One Track Mind Stunts, Blunts & Hip Hop, 1992 Oooh, Sally’s gonna tear somebody up when she hears that right there. Even though she’s a straight whore. Diamond D’s words, not mine…
I think we’re all in agreement in these corners of the Inter Nets that there has been a grip of terrible hip hop coming out lately. From weak ass songs about nothing to crazy joints about makeup, it seems like folks ain’t got nothing to say, and they got the busted beats to match.
These people need to stop. And I need to stop with the Digiwaxx; it’s making me straight up tired. It’s enough to make a girl take a vinegar rag to the forehead over here.
And yet…
A proper dig in any repectable DJ’s crate will turn up stacks of records that say nothing and sound like nothing. And these nothing records are straight up classics. They’re anthems, songs that turn the party out that everyone knows, even if it’s just through Diddy’s references.
Strangely, whether they’re Kinfolk Kia Shine (who is naming these babies?!?! -ed.) or Ice-T, they all pretty much go like this:
- I’m hot/fly/rich - I get girls - I do this over nothing more than a drum track and maybe a few notes
So how does it happen that crazy dumb songs catch on so hard, for so long? Dag, I dunno. But my point is that lots of the classics aren’t structurally or thematically that different from today’s crap music.
Maybe we all need to give poor Kinfolk another listen. Oh, HELL naw. I’m old, I ain’t got that kind of time anymore.
Rock Master Scott and the Dynamic Three The Roof is On Fire 12″, 1985 There is perhaps none more classic than this jammie. Yet, it makes no damned sense.
Doug E. Fresh and the Get Fresh Crew The Show 12″, 1985 A whole song that sounds like it should be the introduction to another song. But you know you love that shit when Doug “needs a shoe horn/’cause these shoes always hurt my corns.” It’s magic.
Jimmy Spicer Money (Dollar Bill Y’all) 12″, 1983 Read the title. Repeat. There - you will have this in your head all night.
UTFO Leader of the Pack UTFO, 1984 Watch out, wack DJs! This is not fiction, this is all fact! Lots of scratching.
Special Ed I Got It Made Youngest In Charge, 1989 When his hair was growin too long, Ed got him a fade; when his dishes got dirty, he got Cascade. This song, in its entirety, has two notes in it. And it’s brilliant.
Chris “The Glove” Taylor Feat. Ice-T Reckless Breakin’ Original Soundtrack, 1984 Seriously Ice T? “When you talk of MCs, Ice-T is the best/and when you talk of DJs, forget the rest - Glove’s reckless?” This was li’l Ice-T’s major label debut, and his rhymes were seriously busted. But for some reason, this record makes turntablists all weepy.
Hey homies. I know I’ve been gone for a minute, and you know what? Y’all are just the sweetest things.
>bounce/oz has had tumbleweeds up in it for weeks now, and I am so sorry. But I can’t believe some of the e-mails you’ve been sending. I’m gettin’ dap from all over (sup, UK!), and this afternoon, a “respectful request” that I update my blog. Y’know, ’cause it’s one of her favorites.
Get over here and give momma some love. Thanks guys, for the nice words.
And now, for the latest in a long line of busted songs that are stuck up in my damn craw:
Lil Mama Lip Gloss CD Single, 2007 I’m sorry, but what? Let me get this straight: this is a whole song about lip gloss. Not lips, but their gloss. With no innuendo, no will.i.am, and seemingly no purpose. It just a beat with a girl talking about how lip gloss makes boys stop by her locker.
Oh, and when you first listen, you’re gonna roll your eyes like me, and say, oh damn. I know she did not just say her lip gloss be poppin. This shit is straight wrecked. You might even suck your teeth.
But then you’ll be getting ready for work, putting your MAC Lipglass in the middle of your bottom lip (gives it fullness!), and you’ll start thinking to yourself, “that looks pretty good. My lip gloss is cool. My lip gloss be poppin…”
And the next thing you know, “Lip Gloss” is your ringtone.
I’ma tell you what the word is. “Word Up” is one broke-ass song. It wasn’t even good the first time. But after top 40 saturation and a Cherry Coke commercial, it was downright stank.
But Cameo was so much more than “Oww.” All right, they were a lot of “Oww,” especially after 1984. But back in the ’70s and early ’80s, these brothers threw it down dirty. Way before the red codpiece, Larry Blackmon and company had a hot horn section and that inexplicable funkiness that settled right in your gut.
Not that there’s anything wrong with a red codpiece.
Cameo Rigor Mortis Cardiac Arrest, 1977 The original, the classic. If you don’t bounce to that hook, we’ll be over right directly with that embalming fluid for you.
Shake Your Pants Cameosis, 1980 Exuberant, irresistible boogie cut. Ooooh… ah-ah. You’ll need extra pants for shaking.
Alligator Woman Just Be Yourself Alligator Woman, 1982 “Alligator Woman,” Cameo’s paean to the worst girlfriend in the world, can get repetitive, but dayum, I’m a sucker for that bassline. “Be Yourself” is crazy twangy, slappy bass with ridiculous lyrics. Kind of a self-help jam for the funky set. Only dumber. But funky.
Almost since the first block party where somebody rhymed “party” with “body” over a disco record, haters have been predicting the demise of hip hop. First it was a fad, then it was too violent, too commercial, too R&B, too boring. It’s even become trendy for current hip hop artists to declare it dead.
And you know what? We at Morebounce Publications are old enough to know that brothers been sayin’ the same damn thing for at least 20 years now, and hip hop done stayed in one place. Every generation is convinced the hip hop of its day is off on the wrong track - and old schoolers were the only ones who had it right.
But that’s all bullshit. Hip hop is almost 30 years old now, and over all those years, artists never stopped flipping up old beats and making fresh cuts over and over again. With its roots firmly in sampling and freestyling, hip hop is, at its essence, modernizing; it literally takes the old, and continually makes it new.
And the pioneers? Back in their day, they were the ones off on the wrong track. Hell, when I was in high school, hip hop was accepted as either dangerous or frivolous - but either way, a negative force. Now we look at the Biz Markies, Kurtis Blows, Cold Crush Brothers and Fat Boys and see, through the lens of history, that they were both great innovators and products of their eras.
Which brings me to the actual subject of this post:
Thes One has gone crazy! The bearded half of People Under the Stairs and supastar indie hip hop producer has made a whole album out of - get this - remixed ’70s commercials. Tracks have names like “Hy-Vee,” “Northwestern Bell,” and “F&F Daily C.”
Sounds insane. But it really works. Lifestyle Marketing has a full, smooth, Pete Rock-ish feel, and thanks to the chopped up advertisement vocals, a floaty, ethereal vibe. It’s definitely the most interesting music I’ve heard in a minute. And it makes me happy.
This is what I’m talking about, people. Crazy people doin they thang. It’s why hip hop will never die.
I’m sorry to break up the usual nonsense up in >bounce, but I need to be serious for a minute. Those of you with no tolerance for seriousness (I don’t blame you), please come again later in the week. [-gforce]
Do you know what December brings out in me? No, it’s not my 
Almost since the first block party where somebody rhymed “party” with “body” over a disco record, haters have been predicting the demise of hip hop. First it was a fad, then it was too violent, too commercial, too R&B, too boring. It’s even become trendy for current hip hop artists to declare it dead.