Tag Archives: Hip Hop

April 21, 2012 · 12:04 pm

The Hip Hop King Strikes Again

IMG_0700I’m back from my trip into Uptown. Turns out the 420 thing was accurate, there weren’t that many folks out and about, but the 20 something crowd isn’t exactly known for the being early risers. I myself was up at the computer this morning at 5:02am. that’s the gift G-d gives the aged, my gender aged anyway, more productive hours in the morning.

So I went down to Fifth Element up there in big time Minneapolis. I made time for a stop at Spyhouse Coffee because one should be caffeinated before one attempts to fit in with a cool crowd. Plus I figured the coffee shop was a good place to ease into the 20 something set. Upon entering Spyhouse I was immediately blinded by the light of hundreds, maybe thousands of glaring white lit Apple logos from all the laptops where the black wearing cultists were all trying to update Facebook at the same time. This is what we’ve come to, chat on Facebook to the person across the table also looking into a Mac something chatting back.

I now felt come what better since I decided a few weeks ago that Apple products are now “symbols of corporate greed” and Microsoft is the new cool, I should take my PC in there open it up and see what happens. On second thought I’d probably be strangled with the headphones from an iPhone and I’m pretty sure there’s an app for that!

Fifth Element is across the street from Spyhouse. they have a neat flat black sign on the front which  I was told by my son is part of the color pallet called “murdered out”, friendly color pallet Murder. It is easy to manage since it has one chromatic hue, black.  Seems they use for hairdye, nail polish, clothing, cars, walls, and anything else that will hold the color. Easy to dress when you only wear black. Believe me, I know.

Since the last time I was down there a new underwear shoppe has opened next door. Hustler. Not sure if there’s a connection with Larry Flint or not and the place was locked up tight even, wait for it… the BACK DOOR. Thank you very much I’m here all week.

They undie shop doesn’t open until afternoons. Turns out having sex in wild outfits probably keeps one from getting up early more so than say, smoking dope.

Which BTW I almost said, when the kid made the comment that the “420’rs wouldn’t be up early ‘cause they were stoned all day yesterday.” I almost said , “smoking dope isn’t like drinking you aren’t going wake up with hangover.” But I caught myself, because his next question would be “How do you know”, followed up by his mother “He doesn’t DO YOU”. and then I’d have to come clean about all the Cheech and Chong movies I’d watched as a kid.. or would I???

Anyway Fifth Element was pretty packed at 9:15 this morning.

One more thing, what kind if record store opens at 9:00? On a Saturday?  When I was growing up Tower Records, the biggie in Stockton opened at like 6:15 pm or something. Ok maybe not that late but I think they went Noon to Midnight. Who gets up at 9:00 am and thinks “I gotta go get me the new Musaf disc and 8 cans of spray paint ‘cause I gotta art in me and I gotta get it out?” oh “yo”.

Place was pretty packed. This time however, among the minions of black clad, backwards hat wearing kids with full sleeve tats and fucked up hair, there were a couple’a older dudes, like me. I was also wearing black by way, gotta fit in. I think they were closer to my age than they were to the other folks in that they had gray goatees, as do I. When my wife says it’s ok to grow one. Which isn’t all that often unfortunately, again with the “owned” thing

What I had however, which NO one else did, was a list. One should never go out without a list. Mine had the following five items on it:

The italics are my stream of conscious musings on these things.

Eyedea and Abilities: First Born. Very clever play on idea. At least I hope that what it is. I had a cousin name Edna and I have to tell you, if they’re naming themselves after some chic named Edna, well lets just say that on my list of things you’ll never hear on the news, right after “Black man falls through the ice” is “And your new Miss America, Edna….”

Felt: Felt 3.  I noticed in the bin that Felt have two other albums out. Felt 1 and Felt.. I forgot the name of that middle one, should have written it down on my list. BTW dudes, Chicago did the same thing back their time up to Chicago X, at which point the record label said NO MORE, you’re screwing up the catalogue. Because names are harder than letters in the music world. And my world BTW.

POS: Ipecac Neat. Again clever. Most people, myself included prefer our Syrup of Ipecac over the rocks. It’s taster when it come back up and it’s still nice and cold.

Face Candy: This is where we were. Face Candy? Put that on the list of band names that I wish I had come up with. I can hear it now, opening for the Rolling Stones, Apple Valley’s own FACE CANDY. Maybe if I stopped tucking in my polo shirts and wearing crocs to work I’d have cooler ideas.

I Self Devine: Self Destruct. Again with the damned titles. Self Destruct was going to be the title of autobiography now I’ll have to find something else, bastards.

The draw this morning at Fifth Element was five albums for $10.00. A heckuvadeal. I was so close to asking the very pretty girl with the skyline of Minneapolis tattooed around her bicep where I could find these albums, but I’ve been in record stores before and figured it out. Fifth Element is run my the folks at RhymeSayers, a local recording label. All of these disc’s were in the RhymeSayers bin. It was all coming together for me, this… was an old fashioned sale.  I get it now.

The store is pretty cool, graffiti art on the walls clothing, cd’s, vinyl records and lots of cans of spray paint. Spray paint being the medium of the this genre. yes it was cool, probably too cool for me actually as I never have felt comfortable in the place since I was asked a year ago if I was “5-0”, mistaken for an undercover cop during a BluePrint concert.

But the good Lord has a way of soothing ones heart and whilst I was standing there in line, with my black tee shirt all tucked in nice an neat, bald head and extra-fat guy tummy hanging out,  a fellow who even I would say was somewhat less cool than I came wandering in to the store.

imageNo kidding, older dude, he had those glasses that get darker when you go outside, like the serial killers and mid 70’s gym teachers like, and he was carrying with him a box of Yehuda brand Matzo’s. He was chomping away on them. Now despite the fact that his sweater shirt was un-tucked and he was wearing some black,  even I am savvy enough to know that no one and I mean no one should be seen chomping on matzo’s in a public place a week after the end of Passover.

Come on Dude.

I feel cooler already. 

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September 8, 2011 · 9:29 pm

Back to School

Kids are back in school now, eldest has been gone for a few weeks, my evening social activities kicked into high gear this week, meetings out three nights this week. Funny how summers lazy pace was shattered so completely by the sultry tones of the NPR announcers at 5:30 on the Tuesday after Labor Day. It’s only two days past that event and I’m already feeling like I need a break.  BTW, sometimes my friends at NPR are so calm in their delivery that it’s hard for me to get up.

Not so in the kids world. My kid’s world was shattered, and I mean this in every connotation possible, as the rest of us in the house were also taken with quite a start, by the aggressive Hip-Hop beats of, and I’m note certain here, but I think it was local rapper Atmosphere. Regardless of it was, it was loud and it was abrupt and it just about caused traumatic injury to my person as I shoved my Sensodyne electric tooth brush through the roof of my mouth when  his alarm went off. Good thing there’s nothing vital in my head to damage.

Literally, the walls were shaking. I’ll note this difference to the music that shook the house back when I was a youth.. and this was shortly after Gregorian chants first came out, today the thumping is rhythmic and has a beat. When I was a kid, and it was Black Flag “Rise Above” coming through the walls, there was very little rhythm, more like a wall of sound. You could say the soundtrack of my youth was a screaming mess until I discovered Reggae when I was in college. Reggae, perfect I could be rebellious AND not go deaf at the same time. A perfect art form.

And the return to school means the return to the “backpack telegraph”. Notes come out of the backpack in the afternoon and go back in it the next morning. The middle kid, who has been promoted to “Oldest Child Still Living at Home” which is like “Middle Child Plus”, is a Senior this year. He doesn’t have much in his backpack anymore. Gone are the days that masterpieces in eclectic construction paper composition would come out of the pack and go into the wives “save forever” drawer. Years ago said drawer was becoming something of a firehazard as years of artwork, times three kids got stuffed in there where over time it yellowed, pieces came off as that edible paste shit dried out and we found, to our shame, that would could no longer with confidence place the artwork with the artist unless there was a signature on it somewhere.

My daughter, who remains “youngest child at home” a title she will keep even after next year when Middle goes off to school in Alabama or where ever he ends up, still has the Backpack Telegraph in effect. Of course there was a note, from some lame ass teacher “Please review the classroom code of conduct, sign and return tomorrow.” On the signature “I have read the following with my child, signed _____ Mother, ______  Father”. Mrs S pointed to it on the table and said “you need to sign that” and just like that, I don’t know if it was my face or what I telegraphed in that half second but uh..she pulled it right away and said “never mind”.

“You know” she remarked “sometimes your bad attitude wears me out.” Without looking up I remarked “like a pair of jeans”. You know Bad Attitude brand jeans.. “I’m sick” she started “and tired” I completed her statement.. With a massive eye roll she promptly forged my signature and my daughters and put the form into the pack. I was flabbergasted. “Easier than working you two losers”.

I hate that “contract” thing that these teachers send home. Like signing that form makes a damn bit difference. I would give $100.00 to the family who can, and honestly now, say that sometime in February they realized that there was a contract in effect and told their kids; “Son/Daughter please do your homework, I signed a contract saying you would and I will NOT GO BACK on my word.” On the other hand.. sounds like decent ammo for later, may have to think more about this.

I do prefer the other teacher who sent home an ultimatum “Here’s how to succeed in my class” and “Consequences for not following these instructions, you will fail and your future will be in great jeopardy.” No diatribe, no discussion, no signature.. just F’n do it. Simple as can be. I didn’t even have to read it. “When you fail” I said to my daughter, “we’ll know why”. I would like to send a contract to the teachers who try to get me involved, uncooperative as a I am, in my kids education. “I will NOT be a shitty teacher, mailing in the school year as so many have before me and then complain about your kids.” Signed ___________ And won’t call in sick 25 days this term either.

We’ve had more than few teachers over the years that mailed in their efforts. One in particular tried to get our kids diagnosed as ADD so they could join the ranks of the newly medicated and not cause her too much trouble. Turns out more reasonable and decent school staff had hipped me to the knowledge, privately mind you, that this instructor had retired years ago and was now little more than a walking corpse who was still coming to the classroom every day. She nailed it. Seemed like there was one of those at every grade level.

In our home we have no need for stupid contracts. I’ll even acknowledge that my kids go to a school that’s had some discipline problems over years. My boys tell me stories of daily fights in the halls, kids being sent away, both my boys had calculators, iPods, books etc ripped off right out their lockers and backpacks, bad stuff. But, I grew up in Stockton California at schools that make these look like Prep academies. My message to my kids, walk away and do your best in class, ignore the distractions. I think exposure to this stuff makes the kids better able to make choices later in life. Well, in theory anyway.

Besides if they do screw up, get what we consider subpar grades (B) or talk smack to a teacher or student, they have the wrath of Mrs S waiting for them when they get home, she herself describes her response to school issues as “swift and terrible”. Just the thought of which scares the shit of me, I can only imagine what the youths must think.

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March 6, 2011 · 12:00 pm

Night out on the town

I’m cool. Waay cool. This blog was written in Minneapolis’s trendy uptown neighborhood, right in Spyhouse Coffee, at 9:30pm on a Saturday night.

Wanna be me?

You can’t.

Lolo had a Bat Mitzvah Party to go to on Bryant and Lake street. If you’re not familiar that’s almost in a neat neighborhood. Almost. The oldest drove us downtown, all of us except Mrs S who’s not into cruising around where ever it was that we were going to cruise. She’s especially against coffee shop hanging, my favorite pass time.

While I was taking the girl upstairs the boys got to watch a live showing of Cops as the local finest arrested a hooker and a drunk right before their eyes. You don’t get that kind of education in Agrestic Valley.

I certainly did in Stockton.

Then again, they’ve shut down four “Happy Ending Massage joints in town in the last few months. Maybe the suburbs are getting more interesting.

Then I pass Denny’s and see the parking lot packed with cars 24/7 and I’m assured that sings of culture were in fact, premature.

So, after dropping the dance queen in her not-so-high-heels and fancy party dress off at the party we had to find somewhere to go. Kids wanted to see what the big deal was about uptown and what fun stuff we could find to do there.

Since neither one is 21 there’s a very short answer to that. They didn’t want to do some early grocery shopping at Lund’s or get a new nettie pot and sinus rinse at CVS, things typical for my Saturday night. No, they’d rather go hang somewhere.

First stop, Fifth Element. That’s the hip-hop store where a last month I was mistaken for narc. It’s a lot less crowded when there isn’t an artist preforming. Matter of fact there was no one there. The boys shopped for about 45 minutes. Something I didn’t notice the last time that I was in there, it’s really a full service shop, what I thought were cleverly marketed t-shirts in many colors, stuffed behind the counter were in fact, cans of spray paint and paint pens.

Plus an assortment of nozzles for your spray cans.

I learned that they are THE SPOT for graffiti artists. Pardon my being unimpressed but again, I am from Stockton. There graffiti, of the wrong kind, could get you killed.

As the boys we’re looking around the shop, checking out the CD’s and t-shirts, lots of local MPLS Hip Hop, I was trying to figure out a way to leave. But I didn’t want to make them leave they wouldn’t like me anymore. So, I sauntered up to the nice girl with the dreads and facial tat at the counter, she asked “can I help you find something.” “you can dear, where’s the new Kenny Chesney album”

My own kids ushered me out of there as the lady was saying, “Who did you say again?”

Heh. You can’t take me anywhere really. I can find a way to embarrass you.

After that, trip to Spyglass coffee for some delicious lattes and hot chocolate, we got to talk about school, sports, and the boys sat and discussed Rap music for an hour.

An hour.

Which gave me time to compose this. Which is why, I am-

Cool.

 

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January 17, 2011 · 10:55 pm

Old and Seriously in the Way

Sunday afternoon I was approached by the middle kid, who dropped the following question my way.

“Father”, that right there scares me. “Dear Father”, I’m screwed. “Do you happen to have any pressing plans this evening?”

Watching football, eating ice cream out of the carton, pluck nose hairs, getting my corns rubbed, ‘yeah I think I’m pretty busy.” His little face fell a bit. Mrs S, monitoring the conversation upstairs, offered some encouragement “DOING WHAT?”

Actually, I had planned to work on some stuff that I needed to get done, I had real plans.

Not good enough.

The lad, backed up by his absent brother and doting mother wanted me to drive him to Uptown MPLS to visit the Fifth Element Shop, where a certain Freddie Gibbs would be performing.

I don’t know who Freddie Gibbs is either, other than from what the boys tell me. He’s “sick”, “dope” and “better than Nas”. This, is high praise from my kids. I know who Nas is,he is the rap guy who hates Bill O’Riely. I hate Bill O’Riely too, we have that in common. Now it was coming together, he wanted to go to an in store appearance of a Hip Hop artist, and I was supposed to take him. “what’s Fifth Element?” Turns out it’s store, a retail operation by Rhymesayers, a underground hip hop label. The fact that I could fill in the blanks on some of this makes me that much more in the know that 78.3% of all other 47 year old fat white guys in the United States, I guess you could say I’m “Down”.

Well, there was no way that on a Sunday Night, my typical decompression time, that I was getting into car and driving for half an hour to the Urban Hipland center of Minneapolis for this thing. Seriously here, by 6:00 on Sunday I’m looking for me cheaters, an afgan, a book and my Epson salts. Not to mention the Jets were beating the Patriots and was adamant about settling in for the second half.

“NO, I’m not going”. Pure and simple.

I rescheduled the signing stuff and Mrs S did the dishes, so we were able to get uptown by about 6:00. The event was a instore appearance, show and autograph signing, there were a couple artists in the house for the event and the lad was pretty excited. You know who was really excited was his older brother, all the way from Michigan. The Middle Kid was nice enough to take a $20 out of my wallet to buy Mr. Gibbs newest CD in order to get signed for him after the show. We’re a close family that way.

Fifth Element is an interesting place, especially when it’s filled with Rap fans.

I looked around the shop and made a couple observations; 1) I was the oldest person in the place by about two and half decades. 2) Many of the folks there were staring. At ME. One fellow, a nice looking kid about 6’8”, full sleeve tats, a shaved head and beard that a rabbi would proud off, came over and gave me the nod. “He-loo “ I said. He stared for a minute and then looked through me to the stage where the first artist was doing a sound check.

The first guy, Shad and his sidekick DJ T-Low were starting to “pump a jam”, kids were digging it. I actually had a bit of an epiphany at that point, this underground hip hop scene reminded me a lot of the kind of punk deal that I used like when I was about 18 years old. I can still remember feeling a bit rebellious in the day, listening to Black Flag, X and the Dead Kennedys. I was as passionate about that music as these kids are about this stuff.

My parents wanted nothing to do with it, I’m not quite that harsh with this stuff, but the whole scene was vaguely familiar with one good difference. In my day the crowds at a DK’s show were nearly 100% white. Black kids were listening to something else all together, and we didn’t mix much. The crowd here was much more integrated, a good thing.

I was trying to fit in and look normal, did the head bop thing like everyone else was doing. After the first couple songs the big fella next me leaned over and asked “You 5-oh man?”

Shit.

“No, my kid is up in the front row there, I’m just the chaperone” “oh ok, cool”. He went back to staring through me and nodding his head to the beat.

Five Oh.. I’d been mistaken for a narc. My cover blown and feeling about like the chaperone at a school dance, I looked across Hennepin to Spyhouse Coffee Shop. I love Spyhouse. No sense in hanging out there anymore. I texted the kid that I was heading over and he should join me when he was done with the autographs.

Spyhouse, Uptown, Sunday night. I exchanged one young crowd for another, the only difference most of these kids had their pants on right and were not wearing hoodies with the hoods up. But I was still the oldest person in the place by two and half decades.

I ordered a latte, my warm milk, and sat down at the window seat looking out on Fifth Element. As I sat there I had the realization that not only was I too old for Fifth Element, I just might to damn old for the entire Uptown neighborhood, hell South Minneapolis in general. But, nothing like a coffee shop to put things in perspective and calm the nerves.

After about 20 minutes the kid made his way over. “Okay Dad, we can go” I was sitting enjoying what had to be the best latte I’d ever had in my life. It was only about 1/3 gone. “No, I’m not done with my drink”. After I had taken my pound of flesh from kid making him wait patiently we boarded the car and headed home. He had his CD and autograph, I and another new experience to write about. All in all, a decent evening, a very decent evening.

 

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