Side A

This is all I have left.
It's a shame, really, considering the amount of room my collection of cassettes took up at one point. At it's peak in around 1998, the grand total was around five hundred full lengths, EPs and singles from the golden era. Most were from my weekly excursions to any record store I could get to, whether by bus, car or walking. This was before Best Buys or Circuit Citys had invaded New Hampshire, so I was stuck with the pricejackers elite, such as Strawberries, Record Town, Tape World and a few others that would get away with charging somewhere in the neighborhood of $11.49 - $12.99 per title. Cassette singles were a priority, seeing as most of them were around $1.99 and contained the b-side of the 12" version. I was never really in need of the instrumentals, so two songs (maybe three if there was a remix) for two to three bucks sounded good to me. Granted, when a slab of wax was able to be afforded, that was first on the list. But with not a lot to work with, you had to spend your money in the most conservative way you could find.
The saving grace in my pursuit of finding every possible release in existence was the infamous Newington, New Hampshire flea market, a sunday ritual that I almost never missed out on. A friend and his father went early, much earlier than I should have ever forced myself to get out of bed on a weekend for, knowing I had less than twenty four hours until I had to be forced back into a classroom.
The Newington flea market was where the buried treasures were found, where almost every other visit I'd somehow walk out with four or five new gems to put on the shelf. I was a record hunter before I knew what record hunting was....I was a tape hunter. The odds of finding a 12" there were slim to none, but the cassettes flowed endlessly. In 1992, when I finally got a cd player of my own, the bounties were even more amazing for two reasons: first, CDs would be sold second hand there for anywhere from two to five bucks, and second, once CDs emerged, no one cared about cassettes. No one cared about cassettes except those of us that were smart, and would be able to go through boxes and boxes. It wasn't unusual at that point to come home with ten tapes of gold and to have only spent, at the most, six or seven dollars. Yes, cassettes were the backbone of music loving tightwads in training.
The process went something like this:
Alarm set for 6:30 AM, every day of the sabbath (I seriously don't know what I was thinking....). Alarm would be hit for the next twenty minutes until I realized I'd have to be ready by seven or they would leave without me. I'd crawl out of bed and throw on clothes, looking out the window, knowing that ninety nine times out of a hundred, they'd be in the driveway at exactly seven in the morning.
The drive was about twenty minutes from Dover and would be spent discussing the previous night's basketball, baseball, football or hockey scores, depending on the season we were in. The flea market was year round, such as sports, so the drive was never void of conversation, no matter how tired I was. We'd enter the parking lot and, without fail, my excitement would rise to a boiling point. You have to understand.....Dover, New Hampshire wasn't that exciting to a teenager. There was a movie theater, a Store 24, a YMCA for pick-up basketball games, a sports card shop and.....well, not much else. This being said, a flea market out of town was a sort of utopia, filled to the brim with bizarre characters. It was everything I enjoyed all wrapped up into one large indoor building.
As soon as I would walk in, I'd be bombarded with endless tables of forty year old men selling sports cards, which was the only hobby/love of mine that competed with hip-hop at the time. I would usually have a box full of cards with me in hopes of trading in to random dealers for more packs of whatever new released series were available. This is what I considered my "first round". There was never a hurry. My friend's father could spend hours in there, chatting with anyone and everyone, giving each table a good once-over before moving on and finally making a decision what he wanted at the end of the day.
So, my "first round" would last anywhere from an hour to two or three. As soon as I had nothing I walked into the building with and had exchanged for a mish-mash of new cards, there would be a sort of halftime. My friend and I would go over to the food counter and, being a fat kid, would gorge ourselves. Depending on the day and my hunger level, it'd be either an egg, cheese and bacon sandwich (smothered in grease....I should have had a heart-attack by seventeen) or a maple round.....or sometimes both. For those of you that aren't familiar with maple rounds, it consists of a large, round donut stuffed with the most sugary creme you can imagine and then the donut is topped with a thick layer of maple flavored frosting. The pastry would be usually three to four inches from side to side and about two inches tall. It was, without a doubt, the most sickeningly beautiful "breakfast" treat to ever exist. It's even funnier to think about my diet at those flea markets, considering my present day self eats an almost all vegan diet (except for peanut butter cups.....Reese's owns me for life.). So my friend and I would sit and discuss our scores for the day so far and recharge for the next endeavor.
Immediately after "breakfast", there was a large room adjacent to the food counter and tables, consisting of nothing but VHS tapes. Thousands upon thousands of them. They were usually four for ten dollars, so I would spend about a half an hour hunting down every horror movie I could find and then searching out a few WWF events, considering I'd also argue that the golden age of WWF paralleled the golden age of hip-hop. Wrestlemania, Summerslam, Survivor Series and Royal Rumble VHS tapes also filled my shelves.
Sports cards? Check. WWF and horror films? Check.
And now was the final sweep.
A mental note was taken during my "first round". Every table with a box of cassettes or CDs would be revisited and combed over. I'd take my time, not wanting to miss anything. Some weeks I struck out, but those days were few and far between. More often than not, there would be at least five or six young adults or twentysomethings that would bring their unwanteds in and rent a table for the day. Most of them had a garage sale compacted onto an eight foot table and most of them had grown out of music in one form or another. This is where I'd swoop in and score. Another man's junk was absolutely my treasure.
These tables are where I'd finish my RUN-DMC collection, where I found Paid in Full for a dollar. It was where I could buy soundtracks for films that had at least an unreleased song or two from some of the best artists of the time.....soundtracks for films such as Mi Vida Loca (tracks from Funkdoobiest, A Tribe Called Quest, and Boss), or Trespass (tracks from Gang Starr, Public Enemy, the DITC family....everyone), Who's the Man? (again.....everyone)......the list goes on and on, not even including the soundtracks for movies that were made almost specifically for the hip-hop community (New Jersey Drive, Juice, New Jack City, Menace II Society, Boyz n the Hood, Clockers, The Show, Fresh, One Million Strong (which wasn't a film)....even the House Party films. I know I'm forgetting a ton, but they'll all be talked about in time....I sure as hell listened to them all enough.
There were gems upon gems on a weekly basis. From the flea market itself, I'd go home with a few hours of new music to listen to and a box of cards to look at and organize while the beats and rhymes took me away. Maybe an hour or two of classic WWF as well.

Depending on the week at hand, one of two things would happen at the final conquer of the flea market. We'd either get back in the truck and drive to Dover, or every couple weeks my friend and I would walk down the street to go see a movie. That would be followed by a trip to the mall, where it would be time to flip through all the cassettes and records at any one of the price-gouging holes in the wall. I had no choice other than this. I had no license, hence, no freedom to travel anywhere outside the small provided circle. This was still good enough, though. I had my checklist ready every week, taking down notes on new artists from the once very reliable The Source magazine in the unsigned hype and reviews sections. (This magazine was THE bible at that time for me....it supplied me with quite a bit of reference to track down new artists, etc. If anyone who may stumble on this blog has any back issues from the years 1990-1994, please get in touch and we'll talk deals. I'll have a very full "want list" up on here soon.)
After stumbling around the mall for a few hours (which usually included me having some sort of Burger King feast that was super-super-sized, complete with a shake and whatever the hell else was on the menu.....jesus, I was a pig), I'd make my final decisions. I'd usually keep myself to somewhere around $25 a week, paper route money, and would end up with two full lengths and a cassingle or two. We'd sit outside on the bench until my mom or dad would come pick us up and bring us home. Every Sunday night when I got back to my room, I'd know I had enough new music to tide me over for another week until the next flea market day arrived.
I remember some of the releases I was so happy to finally get on those mall runs, reading about them on a Monday and having to wait a whole week to hear. I remember tearing the plastic off of Kurious' A Constipated Monkey before I was even given a receipt. I remember special ordering Gang Starr's Daily Operation and De La Soul is Dead and having them show up on the same day. Finding Mecca and the Soul Brother on vinyl on the same day as DAS-EFX's Dead Serious came out and being able to buy them both......going to three different stores to find EPMD's "Head Banger" single because them remix was INSANE. I remember all of it and, slowly, more and more keeps creeping back. Pennywise the clown scared the shit out of all of those kids from Derry, Maine and then they tried to forget. In one quick moment it all started to rush back into their minds...all the memories. Hip-hop is my Pennywise, but the only difference is I'm not scared to let all of those memories sink back into me.
It went on like this for years. Once I finally had a license, I took it a step further, hunted down even more flea markets, and made an entire day out of bargain hunting, always eyeball-fucking every table and leaving no stone unturned. I did this up until 2005 when I was around twenty eight years old. My goals shifted as time went on, but any time I saw a pile of cassettes or CDs, you can bet your ass I made a sprint to them. I'm looking forward to fifteen years down the line, where I will revisit my days as a fat kid by turning into a fat older man, still tape hunting. I may start collecting sports cards and rewatching WWF matches just to immerse myself even further into nostalgia.....and maybe I'll find all those Source mags again and finally hold onto them.

Gems III

It took a bit of effort to remember certain records in order to remember certain time frames of my life. I bought various books in the last few weeks to help kick start some thoughts. Considering how important the era was for the genre, it's amazing the lack of attention and focus it receives in many publications. Most of them highlight the genesis of hip-hop within the five boroughs of New York City, but stop the story around 1984-1985.....just when it was getting good. The story doesn't end there. The story has never ended. There is no finish line.
The difference here between, say, someone studying every wikipedia page to learn everything they can to be viewed as having a wide span of knowledge on the subject, and the way I've approached my last few weeks of searching....the difference between the two is that I've had all this in my head for decades. I remember all of these releases first hand. I remember the anticipation of every weekend, my version of new release day. The books I've looked at lately and the crawling around the Internet have just been there to help me....they have been there to help me reminisce.
......and YouTube. This may have been the first time in it's existence that I realized how much more than office freakouts and ticklish kittens it both offers and contains. I don't want to dive into it all right here. I'd rather give "YO! MTV Raps" it's just deserve and devote more than a few paragraphs.....much more than a few paragraphs. That show was the reason I'm happy to be antisocial and I'll explain why that is.

This is the first subject in a very long while that I'm truly excited to dedicate my time to. There are only so many pieces of fiction I can write, only so many mundane childhood thoughts from the white bread society that are worth the effort of a campfire tale. I'm not sure how many can or will relate. I'm not sure how many of my peers, my age group, will remember all of this the way I do, which is finding something larger than life, taking it in and then running for it.
I'm hoping there are quite a few of you. I'm hoping that I can speak about all of this in a way that brings it all back in your minds as well. I want everyone that was lucky (and old...) enough to remember that golden, golden era and relive some past inspirations.
I want you to remember the firsts: the first time you heard about Run DMC's Adidas sneakers with no laces, the first time Rob Base's lyrics on "It takes Two" were stuck in your head on repeat, the first time KRS-ONE gave you Edutainment, the first time you saw five mics in The Source, the first time you saw Nasir Jones' video for "Halftime" late on a Friday night on MTV courtesy of Dr. Dre and Ed Lover, the last five minutes of every episode of In Living Color, the first time you saw Juice and witnessed how multi-talented 2Pac was, the first time you entered the 36 Chambers, the first time you were forced to Jump Around, the first time listening to Blowout Comb, which in turn blew your mind, the first time you heard the purple tape.....the first time you realized your addiction to the voices and the words and the music and the films.
For everyone born between 1974 and 1979, we have the privilege of being birthed at the same time as hip-hop itself. We grew up together. We had our rough moments of confusion and feelings of being lost together. We've found ways to be on the right track together. We found happiness and belonging together. The only difference, thankfully, is that when us humans fade away and our hearts beat for the last time, we can be confident in knowing the beat is still infinitely flowing somewhere else.

Gems V

Boogie Down Productions was next for me, specifically the voice and words of KRS-ONE. Criminal Minded came out in 1987 The cover art alone had sold me. Two guys deadpanning into the camera holding guns, seeming simultaneously both confident and angry.....they just looked...serious. KRS-ONE had a belt of shotgun shells draped over his shoulder. It looked as if the photo had been taken in the middle of a poker game in a sketchy alleyway, cards being tossed in the middle of the table as war tactics were heatedly discussed. It simply had a stark and menacing image, and the image did it's job, which was to capture my attention.
"South Bronx" had been played on the college radio station two weeks before. I had discovered the beauty of blank tapes and having a cassette deck that can record the radio. Once a week, when the radio show would come on, I'd have a blank tape ready. I never recorded the whole hour, instead listening to every song and when one sounded good, I'd press the red button as fast as possible. Comically, this means that for about two years, I'd have all these great singles collected on one blank tape, but every one would have the first five or ten seconds cut off as I would be debating whether or not to use the precious space I had left.
So, "South Bronx" was the track I fell hook, line and sinker for. Just as I had felt when I first heard RUN-DMC, BDP was about to make me fall in love all over again. On the power of that single, I bought the record. Every song on that record is awesome on it's own, but collected as a full body of work, it seems even more important. KRS-ONE was furious, seeming to never calm down as long as there was a microphone near him.
"The Bridge is Over" ended up being the stand-out song for me, a diss-track that pretty much put a nail in the coffin of MC Shan's career. The Bridge Wars was a battle I read about a year or two later, and then all of the tracks had even more light shed on the for me. As far as rap battles, this was still one of the best of all time, mainly because there was such a clear cut winner that literally wiped his opponent off the map....figuratively, not literally. A war battled with words, beginning with words and ending the same. When two artists battle and keep to these guidelines, the end result, no matter who arises victorious, sees both parties involved gaining a new respect for each other.
It's odd to me that my two favorite tracks from Criminal Minded are songs related to the Bridge Wars, but I think it had something to do with how important KRS considered those tracks to be. The lyrics were not there to entertain....they were there to confront, to elevate, and, eventually, to dominate the battle....which he unquestionably did.
There are a few bootlegs around that collect all the tracks back and forth between KRS-ONE and Shan. Listening to them from start to finish is as entertaining as a battle could be. Each artist held his own for a bit, until KRS-ONE did what he did best, which was to crush the competition.

To pick apart all of BDP's output would take forever. Each album had high points that further cemented the legacy. KRS-ONE was noticeably affected by the death of his partner in hip-hop crime, DJ Scott LaRock. Instead of finding another producer, he took on almost all the effort himself from that point on, producing almost every song himself and having almost no guest stars. Both characteristics are almost impossible to find in today's era of hip-hop. It was obviously out of respect for LaRock. BDP was basically those two individuals, and when one is gone, replacement is, ninety-nine times out of one hundred, not an option. KRS-ONE had become a solo artist but still lived in the era of BDP, with a ghost by his side.
By All Means Necessary is, to me, the essential BDP record. More controversial cover art, with KRS imitating the infamous photo of Malcolm X looking out a window with an M1 Carbine rifle. The BDP cover, though, replaced the rifle with an Uzi, updating the photo to modern times.
The record had so many amazing songs, it's impossible to address each and every one. KRS-ONE became "The Teacher", and the entire album had so much to say, it's impossible it fit within the confines of fifty minutes. Starting out with "My Philosophy", there was an immediate notice on my part as to how BDP had changed within one album. The song spoke volumes to me...it did as KRS wanted it to: it informed, it taught and it entertained, all over his booming, attention grasping voice. "Stop the Violence" was the track that stuck in my mind to this day. Such an amazing message done with an amazing approach. Shortly after, the "Self-Destruction" track, video and movement truly made the impact necessary. I remember watching the video and being blown away by the amount of artists involved. Public Enemy, Kool Moe Dee, BDP, Doug E Fresh and Heavy D all in the same place? Goddamn. There ended up being an over sized book that accompanied the movement, which I had bought. As with most treasures I had from this era, I have no idea what came of it, where it could be, and why I didn't keep a tighter grasp on it.
"I'm Still #1 and "Necessary" were the other tracks on the record that found heavy rotation for me. Around this time, I had save up enough money for a cheap walkman, so I had been able to take walks and listen to music on the go, which gave me a sense of freedom that was untouchable. I wore out my first copy of By All Means Necessary within a year, hearing the tape snap inside the walkman. It was a long and quiet twenty minute walk home from that point on.
The next few albums all had great moments, the Live Hardcore Worldwide record being one of the best live hip-hop albums I have ever heard, with KRS-ONE simply holding the crowd in the palm of his hand and commanding them.

KRS finally went "solo" in 1993. Point blank, Return of the Boom Bap was a fucking assault. It was so goddamn good, I couldn't believe it. It wasn't that I had written him off, I just didn't expect him to come with an album so brick hard. Crazy, overexposed cover art of him shouting into a microphone on a chair in the studio. Production by DJ Premier, Kid Capri and Showbiz put the record over the top. Every beat, every rhyme was just so.....hard.
"Outta Here" tossed you into the lion's den right away, followed by having your jaw drop after hearing the rhymes thrown out during "Black Cop". KRS-ONE was not holding back on his solo debut, and as a sixteen year old kid hearing this for the first time, it did nothing short of make me want to put on war paint. The defining point of album, the defining song, is one that is still referenced every day....within movies, songs by other artists, in everyday speak on most every street: "Sound of da Police". Holy shit, what a song! KRS coming in acapella with a "Woop! Woop!", and then a few lines later the beat drops. And then? It's all over.....bigger than "Fuck the Police"....bigger than "Pigs"....it was the biggest "Fuck You" to cops....ever. This song is perfect. For the first two weeks after I bought the tape, I didn't even get to the B-side. I just kept rewinding the A-side so that I could hear that "Woop! Woop!" again.
His next album, self titled, had a few weak parts, but the good songs made up for it. DJ Premier was still producing songs the way he always has and always will, which is head and shoulders above his peers. A little bit of keyboard, a little bit of bell ringing, and a hell of a lot of style. "MCs Act Like They Don't Know" was the first single, I think. I remember the video premier on YO!, and immediately wondered when the album would finally come out. Like I said, some of it was hit or miss, but Primo's songs, the track done by Showbiz (Represent the Real Hip-Hop with DAS EFX) and the tracks he produced himself were mostly really good. "Free Mumia" with Channel Live was so dark and intense. Now that I've mentioned Channel Live, I'm going to have to go break out "Station Identification" and go on a diatribe about that one later.
I still feel the need for some BDP once every couple weeks. Not only because the albums involved were so memorable, but it also triggers an age where everything was starting to be exposed for me. As funny as it may sound, I learned a lot of my life lessons from records called Criminal Minded, By All Means Necessary and Sex and Violence.

Gems VI

I'm going to lump the rest of the eighties into one (undeserved) post. Not because I want to, but more because I have to.....at least for the moment. If I continue to go on diatribes of each album on the years of 86-89, I'll never get past the decade, which is something I want to do.
In the year 1989, I turned twelve years old. Being the same age as hip-hop itself, we both had a pivotal year for many reasons. First, it was my last year as being considered a kid, the last year before turning into a teenager. I was starting to grow up and expand and experiment....just like hip-hop.
The eighties were feeling grounds, both hip-hop and I unsure of our futures, unsure of our surroundings or what we were capable of. The end of 1989 birthed a new decade. I went on to junior high school. Hip-hop went on to more major label attention. Both of us had our fuck ups and both of us found ways to search out and find purpose, focusing on positivity while still acknowledging the negative aspects.
When I became a teenager, so did hip-hop. This means I have to sum up our "youth" in brief snippets right now before returning later on, reflecting on exact instances I remember involving certain albums, reading certain magazines and watching certain films.

So, in fast forward, this is youth:

Around the time of RUN-DMC's rise, there were other names lumped in with them, with modern pop culture media attempting to acknowledge hip-hop. Magazines like Rolling Stone all of a sudden gave a shit about the genre as a whole and not just groups that do songs with shitheads like Aerosmith. On one hand, it was welcomed and those that appreciated the art form were happy to see it get some much needed and deserved love. The other hand caused frustration as the obviously uninformed tried their best to bullshit a way through an article they had absolutely no prior knowledge of.
That's besides the point.
Beastie Boys released "License to Ill". They blew up almost immediately. I tried to love them. The record has it's moments, and if the whole albums made me feel like "Rhymin and Stealin" did, I would have been another to worship at the altar of three white boys from Brooklyn. I will say, however, that I did think some of their albums were fantastic. Paul's Boutique was a mindfuck in the best of ways. Check Your Head will always be their classic, their premium album in, well, my head. Their follow-up to that LP, Ill Communication was right up there with it, before "Sureshot" got so overplayed in every circle of life it became unbearable to listen to for a while.
Eric B and Rakim's "Paid in Full" came out, "I Ain't No Joke" being the song that turned my head.
Public Enemy. Enough said. I can't even start about them right now or I'll need another ten pots of coffee and will call in sick to work for the next three days. They deserve much more description than I have time for right now.
NWA introduced the world to gangsta rap. "Straight Outta Compton" is in the top five hardest songs of all time. Period. These dudes were so pissed, they make every Discharge song sound like they were sung by schoolchildren. Blasphemy for a punk to say? Probably. But, truth? Definitely. Fab Five Freddy introducing them on YO! MTV Raps was such a memorable moment. Once Ice Cube, Eazy-E and Dr. Dre went and did solo albums, their legacy as a group became even more important. Shit, even MC Ren's "Kizz My Black Azz" EP was quality.
EPMD came out with "Strictly Business" and planted their feet into fresh cement. The following few years and releases for them are much like those footprints....they'll be noticed for a very long time, especially with Erick Sermon still making good music (most of Method Man and Redman's "Blackout" is still the best production he has done.).
Lighthearded MCs started to surface, with Biz Markie and DJ Jazzy Jeff and the Fresh Prince presenting a more lighthearted version of east coast hip-hop. Biz was incredible...an almost muppet-like character that is still today one of the most entertaining individuals to ever be involved the the creation of this music, with "Just a Friend" still sealing the deal as a classic. Same with Jazzy Jeff and Mr. Will Smith...."He's the DJ, I'm the Rapper" is still listenable, still bizarre and comical. I mean, there are songs about Freddy Krueger, stealing and crashing your parents' car, bodyguards, etc. Plus, it was when CDs were new and had less room on them, so those of us that lived in cassette world, we got an extra couple of minutes and tracks on this record. Last but not least, Kid 'N Play introduced themselves.....say what you want about the albums, but they were important, if only, because it gave them access to create personas that carried on into feature films that I consider hip-hop classics. More on that at some other point.
Females besides Roxanne Shante started getting respect, Queen Latifah, MC Lyte and Salt-N-Pepa being at the forefront, while others like Monie Love were still making good songs without as much attention.
On the other end of the spectrum was 2 Live Crew. It was never, and will never be, my thing. I can't relate to almost anything their entire lyric output entailed. I don't care about booty bass. I don't care about shock for the sake of shock, with no validity behind it, whether you take it to the United States Supreme Court or not. No matter what way it was "meant to be perceived", misogyny is not a part of my hip-hop. Strippers and prostitutes are not a part of my hip-hop. At almost thirty three years of age, I've still never even been to a strip club. Sad....pathetic? You decide. I'm okay with it, and I'll stick to songs like Pete Rock and C.L. Smooth's "Lots of Lovin" and be just fine. It's (my opinion..) not about being some PC hippie bullshitter....it's just about being a human.
Kool G Rap and DJ Polo's "Road to Riches", Big Daddy Kane's "Long Live the Kane" and "It's a Big Daddy Thing", LLCool J's slew of albums, as well as Ice-T's (including "6 in the Mornin', which was on ninety five percent of every mixtapes I ever made), The D.O.C.'s "No One Can Do it Better".....all of these came out in this time frame. Looking back, it's unbelievable....it's another reason it can all be described as golden.
MC Serch and Prime Minister Pete Nice fronted one of hip-hop's first interracial groups in #rd Bass. The Cactus Album is released, and almost every motherfucker on this planet felt "The Gas Face". Why? Because they had skills. Because they weren't a gimmick. Because their lifestyle wasn't created by a record executive looking to cash in. Because their records are still great, even by today's standards, and because they never turned on what they started. Serch brought Nas to greatness, put out an incredible solo album ("Return of the Product") and just a few years ago, worked with Ego Trip on VH1's The (White) Rapper Show. I've read they (Ego Trip) are doing a new book about white rappers....my bet is that Serch will be heavily, heavily involved, within not only the content, but the entire production. 3rd Bass made me feel like I didn't need to question my love for the culture, as if I was intruding on something I wasn't supposed to.

So, that's a brief and minimal rundown. Trying to open a ten ton can of worms within a few paragraphs is impossible. Like I said before, my main goal is to cover everything I can whenever time permits, and this was the best starting point I could come up with.
I'm also not going to sit here and act like I was waiting out front of the record store every Tuesday knowing release dates. Some of these records took me three, four, five years to discover. I am no aficionado. What I am, however, is an enthusiast, which I consider even more important. I don't remember every song title, all the lyrics to every LP, who produced every track, etc. But what I do recall is how these records as a whole, influenced me.....and that is what this is all about....not statistics, nor biographies of each artist.....it's about the affect these artists and albums had to my ears, my head and, ultimately, my life.