On the 24th of December, 1989; a child's innocence was lost. It had nothing to do with finding out the truth about Santa Clause, because in actuality he never really believed in Santa Clause to begin with. For the rest of the world other than being Christmas Eve, that date probably plays no significant meaning. However, for a group of kids in Mrs. Williams' 6th Grade class and one in particular it was the end of childhood, the day the music died and things would never be the same.
Toussaint Verde was a 12 years old that seemed to be a man in a boys body. He had an old soul and it almost seemed as if he had been here before. The summer of 1989 anther little boy moved to Jamaica Queens and eventually enrolled in P.S. 160 also known as Walter Francis Bishop Elementary School. The name made it seem a lot nicer than it really was. After arriving at the school that was surrounded by gates and burglar bars and security guards with their metal detectors and a play ground with no jungle gyms, only a wall that the children could play hand ball on this new student was in a complete culture shock as the standards and practices of the New York Education system. The first friend he made was the before mentioned Toussaint.
Toussaint was Tupac in a twelve year old body, before Tupac was even Tupac. He had a swagger about him and everybody seemed to gravitate towards him. He dressed, walked and talked the part. The girls loved him, the goons respected him, the younger kids looked up to him like the head of state and all the teachers liked him. What can you say, he was a hood legend he was the Pope John Paul of Walter Francis Bishop Elementary school.
The fact that he stretched his hand out in friendship to this new student, made the transition almost seamless; considering the fact that he was being co-signed for by the coolest dude in school. He didn't catch the hell most new kids catch when they enter a new school at that age, until they make a name for themselves. He was ushered in the cool clique immediately because of an act of kindness. And that maybe why the 24th of December 1989 hit him harder than most.
A handful of men involved in a shootout over a drug deal gone bad, let off shots in one of East New York's most notorious projects. This was the type of neighborhood that gun shots didn't really cause anyone to raise an eyebrow or lose sleep. The assailants fired off recklessly at each other and into the air and everywhere in their attempts to kill their adversaries. The sad part is that they weren't good at selling drugs and they were even worse at shooting, because none of them were even hit in the may lay. However, on the 12 floor of one of the project building sat Toussaint Verde looking out the window and waiting in auntie's apartment to get a hair cut. He was shot by two bullets to the head, slipped into a coma, and would never wake up. The ramifications of his death would be felt for many years after that balmy Christmas Eve.
Childhood was never the same after that; and how could anyone expect it to be. It is a sad day when a child realizes that they do have limitations and they are not invincible. Sometimes you don't have to wait for the next episode, Superman doesn't always make it. It took seven years for me to even sleep by a window again and that was only because the dorm I stayed in at the University of Miami, kind of gave me no choice. Occasionally, I think about him and what he could have or would have been doing if he hadn't gone to Brooklyn that day. His spirit has been with me ever since. It was a biographical essay about him that I used to get into college. And it is his swagger and personality I carry with me everyday, and his act of kindness that makes me want to help those trying to make their way through new or bad or difficult situations. I will certainly never forget him or what he meant to a little boy trying get adjusted in a new school and a new city.
TOUSSAINT VERDE will always be the epitome of cool. That was my dude and I'll always remember him.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
My Favorite Rapper's Favorite Rapper
Last night the Grammy's awards were given out for excellence in sound. Some think that there are only for music, but in actuality there are many awards given out that have absolutely nothing to do with music; music just happens to play a predominant role and is probably the most entertaining, for a television broadcast. And while watching and betting on who was going to win what award; it left me wondering and contemplating the state of music, in particularly hip-hop, but music in general.
The tragedy of hip-hop music is the same as that of many street-ball legends; some of the greatest will never know the spotlight of fame and fortune and even worse many of them have only themselves to blame. However, a large part of the blame goes to the general public and A&R's and music execs that cater overly-marketed artists and watered down music, so that the general public will get it. The problem is this, at least in my eyes. There are dueling forces that aren't necessarily always going in the same directions. The thing of it is that music is a business, it is also an art form. While many other art forms rely on "experts" (people who have devoted their lives to studying it to decide what is a masterpiece) music isn't the same.
The general public decides what's hot. Seventy-five percent of rap music is bought by 14-17 year old white boys that live in the suburbs. While I'm not knocking the demographic, I just don't think that they are experienced enough to decide what a classic album, record or anything for that matter. Back to the problem. Music is a business. When you start looking at it as so, you start to realize why certain decisions are made; why certain acts are signed and others are not. One of my favorite lines in Purple Rain was when the guy at the club told Prince, "the problem with your music, is that nobody understands it but you." This is the beginning of the conflict between the art and the business. Like I said A&R's have to make music for people that buy music, not for those that love music, but for those that buy music!!! And the sad part is that when they started, they got into the industry because they loved it. But somewhere along the journey many lost their way and became overly occupied with job security. In today's market many would understand that, but it doesn't make it any less disturbing.
I have seen many talented artist go under the radar and or not reach the level of notoriety that they deserved, because those on duty were scared. One in particular, a rapper that hails from West Philly, by the name of Pretty Ugly. And if you have never heard of him, that speaks more to the problem than the solution. In all my years of making and being a part of music, there have been a few unsigned artists that moved me and made into a fan after one sitting. Pretty Ugly was one of them.
While on the Lyricist Lounge Tour one year, my mentor and friend Gregory "Beef" Jones introduced me a young man by the name of Papes in a Philadelphia hotel room. As the blunts circled the room and the smoke rose like Napalm Bombs and I worked on persuading a young lady from University of Penn (that I met at the All-Star game in ATL that year) to take me back to her place so, I wouldn't have to sleep on a tour bus; I found myself and everybody else in the room captivated by a young man, I would later find out went by the moniker of Pretty Ugly. He was what you would call a hood legend. I likened it the the impression I got from Young Jeezy many years later in Atlanta when he was simply known as Rain Man or the magnetic force X used to be, that forced everyone to pay attention to him when he entered a room. To my surprise, this cool ass nigga also rapped and was so serious.
What makes PU's music work is that it is an honest look at the world the way he sees it and he is able to relate his point to to his audience as if it were a one on one conversation. He often says, "it ain't that I'm rapping, it's just that my words be rhyming". Whether you have a beat behind it or you are in a smoke filled hotel room after the Lyricist Lounge, it is always like you are having a conversation with him. That is the beauty of it. While some stumble over words to try and make themselves seem wittier than they really are, he never has that problem. It's honest gangsta music. Sometimes, in music like in interior design less is better. Pretty Ugly is the future of what Pac didn't get a chance to see. He is a story-teller that even Notorious would have respected. He combines the swagger of a Jay-z, the arrogance and confidence of T.I.P. but is as retrospective and gangster as Scarface and Pimp C. The sad part may be that, the masses may never get a chance to enjoy the genius of his work. It makes you wonder when will the rest of the world get the chance to hear the music I rocked to back almost 10 years ago it seems.
There are a number of overly talented artists that may or may not reach there potential and for whatever have not done it so far. This takes nothing away from their God given talent and should not waiver in their fight to make good music or sell out to mainstream propoganda just because some lazy-ass A&R isn't creative enough to see the vision. Remember they wearing suits because they can't dress no more. Pretty Ugly, Lord Nez, Bazaar Royale, Miss E-Wreck, Redcoat and Ricky Ruckus are absolutely unaquivically dope. period. When I was 22 Bun-B told me, "We just wanted to make the music that would tell the story of where we were from, Port Author, Texas". All those that continue to hone their craft remember there is light at the end of the tunnel for Underground Kingz.
"Now personally, I don't give a fuck who forget about me when I'm dead and gone. Cause most of the people who don't care won't even hear this song. I been a lot of place's I thought I'd never ever be. And I seen a lot of things I thought I'd never ever see. My momma told me that these streets gonna be the death of me. I've been in situations from murder's to the burglaries. I'm a pretty dude, why ugly dudes always be testin me I'm a skinny dude, why big dudes always be testin me. I make it happen real fast, unexpectedly. My hood shootouts be exactly like the Westerns be. I tell a judge and jury I was just defendin' me. And intimidation is no relation, only kin to me. I usually ride by myself, there's never men with me. I'm a grown man, I don't need no men to send for me. Cause it ain't no vest on me, don't think you got the best of me. That ain't the way I'm supposed to die, that ain't my destiny." ---Pretty Ugly "I'm Tired"
The tragedy of hip-hop music is the same as that of many street-ball legends; some of the greatest will never know the spotlight of fame and fortune and even worse many of them have only themselves to blame. However, a large part of the blame goes to the general public and A&R's and music execs that cater overly-marketed artists and watered down music, so that the general public will get it. The problem is this, at least in my eyes. There are dueling forces that aren't necessarily always going in the same directions. The thing of it is that music is a business, it is also an art form. While many other art forms rely on "experts" (people who have devoted their lives to studying it to decide what is a masterpiece) music isn't the same.
The general public decides what's hot. Seventy-five percent of rap music is bought by 14-17 year old white boys that live in the suburbs. While I'm not knocking the demographic, I just don't think that they are experienced enough to decide what a classic album, record or anything for that matter. Back to the problem. Music is a business. When you start looking at it as so, you start to realize why certain decisions are made; why certain acts are signed and others are not. One of my favorite lines in Purple Rain was when the guy at the club told Prince, "the problem with your music, is that nobody understands it but you." This is the beginning of the conflict between the art and the business. Like I said A&R's have to make music for people that buy music, not for those that love music, but for those that buy music!!! And the sad part is that when they started, they got into the industry because they loved it. But somewhere along the journey many lost their way and became overly occupied with job security. In today's market many would understand that, but it doesn't make it any less disturbing.
I have seen many talented artist go under the radar and or not reach the level of notoriety that they deserved, because those on duty were scared. One in particular, a rapper that hails from West Philly, by the name of Pretty Ugly. And if you have never heard of him, that speaks more to the problem than the solution. In all my years of making and being a part of music, there have been a few unsigned artists that moved me and made into a fan after one sitting. Pretty Ugly was one of them.
While on the Lyricist Lounge Tour one year, my mentor and friend Gregory "Beef" Jones introduced me a young man by the name of Papes in a Philadelphia hotel room. As the blunts circled the room and the smoke rose like Napalm Bombs and I worked on persuading a young lady from University of Penn (that I met at the All-Star game in ATL that year) to take me back to her place so, I wouldn't have to sleep on a tour bus; I found myself and everybody else in the room captivated by a young man, I would later find out went by the moniker of Pretty Ugly. He was what you would call a hood legend. I likened it the the impression I got from Young Jeezy many years later in Atlanta when he was simply known as Rain Man or the magnetic force X used to be, that forced everyone to pay attention to him when he entered a room. To my surprise, this cool ass nigga also rapped and was so serious.
What makes PU's music work is that it is an honest look at the world the way he sees it and he is able to relate his point to to his audience as if it were a one on one conversation. He often says, "it ain't that I'm rapping, it's just that my words be rhyming". Whether you have a beat behind it or you are in a smoke filled hotel room after the Lyricist Lounge, it is always like you are having a conversation with him. That is the beauty of it. While some stumble over words to try and make themselves seem wittier than they really are, he never has that problem. It's honest gangsta music. Sometimes, in music like in interior design less is better. Pretty Ugly is the future of what Pac didn't get a chance to see. He is a story-teller that even Notorious would have respected. He combines the swagger of a Jay-z, the arrogance and confidence of T.I.P. but is as retrospective and gangster as Scarface and Pimp C. The sad part may be that, the masses may never get a chance to enjoy the genius of his work. It makes you wonder when will the rest of the world get the chance to hear the music I rocked to back almost 10 years ago it seems.
There are a number of overly talented artists that may or may not reach there potential and for whatever have not done it so far. This takes nothing away from their God given talent and should not waiver in their fight to make good music or sell out to mainstream propoganda just because some lazy-ass A&R isn't creative enough to see the vision. Remember they wearing suits because they can't dress no more. Pretty Ugly, Lord Nez, Bazaar Royale, Miss E-Wreck, Redcoat and Ricky Ruckus are absolutely unaquivically dope. period. When I was 22 Bun-B told me, "We just wanted to make the music that would tell the story of where we were from, Port Author, Texas". All those that continue to hone their craft remember there is light at the end of the tunnel for Underground Kingz.
"Now personally, I don't give a fuck who forget about me when I'm dead and gone. Cause most of the people who don't care won't even hear this song. I been a lot of place's I thought I'd never ever be. And I seen a lot of things I thought I'd never ever see. My momma told me that these streets gonna be the death of me. I've been in situations from murder's to the burglaries. I'm a pretty dude, why ugly dudes always be testin me I'm a skinny dude, why big dudes always be testin me. I make it happen real fast, unexpectedly. My hood shootouts be exactly like the Westerns be. I tell a judge and jury I was just defendin' me. And intimidation is no relation, only kin to me. I usually ride by myself, there's never men with me. I'm a grown man, I don't need no men to send for me. Cause it ain't no vest on me, don't think you got the best of me. That ain't the way I'm supposed to die, that ain't my destiny." ---Pretty Ugly "I'm Tired"
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