Thanks ARAJay!!!
Feel free to steal this image and repost liberally!!!! Thanks!
Sunday, April 4, 2010
OFFICIAL WEB FLYER BY ARAJAY
Thanks ARAJay!!!
Feel free to steal this image and repost liberally!!!! Thanks!
Monday, March 8, 2010
Wanna battle? DMC NOLA MMX 4/16
It’s that time once again. The DMC USA returns to New Orleans for another regional heat. This year I’ve changed the venue to the Hookah Club 301 Decatur St.
“Why did you switch the venue? The Howlin’ Wolf was dope last year!!!!!?” Some may say.
Well, there are a number of reasons. As comical as it may sound, first and foremost it was Air-Conditioning. You non-battler/party-goers, might not understand the physical effects of heat on your DJ battle contestants. Extreme heat and humidity make your hands sweat and can also make the records sweat. This makes handling the records and handling your nerves more difficult. The first DMC I entered was 2005 in Austin, TX at EMO’s. The battle was set up outdoors in the back patio area. Heat, sweat, records, outdoors, 6 hours in a car = NOT A GOOD LOOK!!!! That is what made air conditioning a top priority this year.
Since last year was my first rodeo, this time around I’m implementing new and awesome new steps to make this year’s event more enjoyable for everyone involved. The Hookah Club already hosts deejay events so we know they are contributing to deejay culture. Where as the Howlin’ Wolf is mainly a live music venue. After seeing how Christie Z ran the US Finals at the Santos Party house, I’m redoubling my efforts to recreate an event of that caliber.
Next most important issue is Audio/Video implementation. I wanted to have a video projector which would display my sponsor’s logos and other important and relevant information throughout the night. That couldn’t happen due to the problematic nature of setting up a projector inside the Howlin’ Wolf. The Hookah Club is already equipped with AV hookups and a digital projector so that made my decision easier.
Third most important reason is economy of space and comfort. This sort of draws on the air-conditioning element, but it more speaks toward the dynamic of the venue. Hookah Club is laid out in such a way that will make setting up vendor tables easy. It also has better interior design giving the spectator (you) a better place to relax. The relaxed atmosphere, air-conditioning, better sound, and better venue equal a more enjoyable experience for all.
My deciding factor was Gil and Emily. They have always whole-heartedly supported my endeavors. Emily is a friend, and I’ve been thoroughly impressed with their resilience. All who frequented the old Hookah on Frenchman was saddened by the sudden closure. I had been closely following the saga of the Hookah with watchful-eyes and high-hopes. I was completely blown away once I saw the renovation. They were able to better re-create the atmosphere of the original Hookah Café in their new French Quarter locale. All that is missing is the fish tank, which, by the way, I hope they are able to restore. I’m proud to announce that this year’s DMC New Orleans Regional Heat take place at the newly renovated Hookah Club. It’s a club now since due to the tobacco laws they can unfortunately no longer serve food.
All of these carefully weighed factors went in to determining when & where this year’s battle would be held. It’s the perfect fit, and I have all intentions of DMC NOLA remaining here year after year.
On to the specifics:
DMC NEW ORLEANS Regional Heat 2010
FRIDAY APRIL 16, 2010
Hookah Club
301 Decatur
New Orleans, LA 70xxx
8pm-12:30 am
18+ over
$15 presale $20 day of the event
I’ve got some interesting judging and showcase ideas for this year so watch this space.
DMC NOLA 2010
FRIDAY April, 16th Two-thousand and TEN!!!
SAVE THE DATE, PLAYERS and PLAYETTES!!!!!
DMC EBAY STORE (for DVDs and DMC merch online)
Friday, March 5, 2010
John Hughes is my homeboy!
Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop to look around once in a while, you might miss it. - Ferris Bueller
I have always loved three things: Music, Movies and Humor. One of my earliest memories is watching “Star Wars” in the two screen Multiplex in my little rural Louisiana town in 1978 at the tender age of 3. I can vividly remember the original Saturday Night Live: Not Ready for Primetime Players. I didn’t get the jokes, but it was my first exposure to sketch comedy. I even more vividly remember the second cast of SNL with Bill Crystal, Katherine O’Hara, Eddie Murphy and the lot. I remember SCTV, and those crazy Canadians. I was old enough to get the jokes, or so I thought. These were the early days of the VCR, the early days of the local video store. This was before PG-13 and before the Christian Coalition started taking issue with “racy” Hollywood movies. There were certain films I naturally gravitated toward, films that seemed to speak directly to me. This brings me to John Hughes.
I used to put my jambox to the speakers of our early “home theater” system (which was a Bose stereo receiver and two Bose stereo speakers connected to the TV via the AUX port) and tape the audio of some of my favorite movies. These tapes would typically become the soundtrack for my Griswoldian vacations that my family took every single year to far away fantasy places like Astroworld and Waterworld, Corpus Christi, or in a more exotic flight of fancy Matamoras, Mexico. In my mind, we were the Griswolds. Ironically, one of the films I taped was Vacation, and yet another was Mr. Mom. These I would much later discover were John Hughes’ babies. Hughes for a time in the 70’s split time between his Chicago ad agency job at Leo Burnett and writing quite prolifically for the National Lampoon. It was during this time when I was just cutting my permanent teeth, Hughes was cutting his teeth on the landscape of American culture. My story is probably virtually identical to tens of thousands and perhaps millions of Gen-Xers of whom Hughes’ films spoke directly. Collectively I’ve seen his films over 1000 times. A rough estimate but I’ll wager not too far off the true mark. Some films I got the privilege to viewing in the theater, Vacation, Ferris Bueller’s Day Off (twice), and Curly Sue which coincidentally was the last movie playing at the Essanee theater near my house when it closed it’s doors in 1991. I wanted to say I watched the last movie that ever played at the Essanee, and it was a Hughes film… His least revered film and his last foray as a director. Fucking John Hughes…
Growing up in America in the 80’s, it was impossible for pop culture to not have an indelible influence on our lives. It was the dawn of the music video. Prince, Madonna, Duran Duran, Michael Jackson and the lot ruled the radio and this new fad of Hip Hop was affecting the landscape of my elementary school. As a white kid in Louisiana I related more to Gary and Wyatt than I did to my dad or my cousins. I was a world away from my musical idols Jam Master Jay or Adam Horowitz. It seemed each of his movies spoke directly to me. I don’t know how many countless other people I’ve encountered have said those exact words. His movies are just as much a part of my collective consciousness than all of my real life experiences. His characters have made me who I am.
So who am I?? Well I’d like to think I’m Ferris Bueller, but tragically I’ve never really been as cool or as in control. Although I did have a penchant taking a “Day Off” & faking sick to stay home and watch PBS, Ferris Bueller I was not. I always wanted to be as edgy and dangerously sharp witted as John Bender. Truth be told, I’m more Ducky, more Keith Nelson, more Wyatt than Gary.
As I grow older it seems they are still speaking to me. I no longer see the movies as teen pictures. They are representative of a time period, an ethos, a bygone American aesthetic. Each of the films are honest. I never feel as if Hughes is trying to sell me something. They are modern day fables. These films paved the way for directors like Kevin Smith & Judd Apatow. They have molded and shaped an entire generation of idealistic young people. I am part of the John Hughes Generation.
Much has been made about his disappearance from movies. Documentaries have been made, articles written, even Molly Ringwald made a plea during some award show. Well, I recently picked up the March 2010 issue of Vanity Fair and the piece on Hughes is just riveting. I wish I could have had the privilege of meeting John Hughes. I have come to identify more and more with him, and I owe just as much of who I am as a person to him than I do to my own parents. For a generation of latch-key kids who’s families scraped by trying to eek out a living in Reagan-era America, Some Kind of Wonderful is a parable for following your dreams and seizing the moment. Ferris Bueller’s Day Off reminds us to take risks and always look on the bright side. The Breakfast Club speaks of friendship, serendipity, and the importance of looking beyond the surface. Pretty in Pink is a commentary on remaining true to yourself, and being proud of who you are. This was my Bible. John Hughes was my Buddha, Jesus and Jehova.
It turns out that he was a frantic note taker. He was always writing, drawing and taking pictures. I hope that in those writings there is a screenplay, a magic screenplay that can turn me into a fifteen year old again.With wide eyed romantic optimism it will refill my cup. He left us with no instructions as to what to do once this world takes a hold of us. Possibly, some of these writings will reach the public, and it’ll provide us all with more insight. For now, all I can do is celebrate John Hughes. Learn not only from his movies, but from the way he lived his life.
So I know I’m a little late being that he passed away last fall, but the recent Vanity Fair article ignited the flame once again. In closing, “Mr. Hughes, I owe you a great debt. You have helped to guide me in the right direction and down the path I’m walking today. Over the years I’ve come to regard you as an old friend. It’s always hard losing a friend, and my generation misses you the most.”
Thursday, November 12, 2009
The breakdown (that old familiar feeling...)
I love vinyl. That reason amongst all is the reason why I began deejaying. I love performing in front of people. That reason amongst all is why I continued deejaying. I'd always collected things and bought records from the earliest age I can remember. I remember that one Christmas. As I was right in the grip of the first wave of Hip Hop hysteria to hit New Iberia, Louisiana, I got a fingerless glove, the Chaka Khan "I feel for you" Lp single, some studded bracelets, and the Breakin' and Beat Street cassettes, and a shiny new Magnavox dual tape cassette "Jambox". I think it's fair to say Christmas 1984 treated me well.
Christmas 1985 was all about GI Joe. Christmas 1986 was my the Nintendo Christmas. And who could forget Christmas 1987 when I got my first skateboard. As my pre-occupation for "breakdancing", rapping, and graffiti faded out as my adolescent mind grew to discover new subcultures and technology. It wouldn't be long before puberty and High School would make it so that every decision I made had something to do with girls.
The one thing that remained constant was Hip Hop music. I loved it. Run DMC, Eric B and Rakim, Kool Moe Dee, Grandmaster Melle Mel, the Sugarhill Gang, the Beastie Boys, the Fat Boys, L.L. Cool J and the other artists of the time spoke to me in a way that Pop music or bands like AC/DC, Motley Crue, and Van Halen never could.
Once in Sixth grade Mr. Collins, our hip math/science/phys. ed teacher, singled out a Run DMC lyric in a lecture about the evils of this new rap music.
"I met this little girly/ Her hair was kind of curly/ Went to her house to bust her out/ I had to leave real early." he dryly recited the verse as if he were reading it from the Bible.
He then began to launch into a tirade about the adult themes contained in this music and why we should go to Church every Sunday. These were the days before the "Parental Advisory" stickers. While I'll admit the lyrics were adult themed, I didn't truly understand them. I didn't find this anymore objectionable than the slasher flicks or Ninja movies I was allowed to watch. It was fun music for the most fun time in my life, a time I would try the entire rest of my life to re-capture.
Fast forward to Junior Year. My sister threw a party, and with my swollen tape collection and hand full of CDs I deejayed the party. We had one of those all-in-one jobs with the turntable on the top. At that time I didn't have any records. I tricked one of my sister's classmates into thinking that I was scratching the tape, by slickly tapping or pressing pause while he watched my hand touch the empty turntable platter. Yeah, he totally believed it.
Then came my voyage of self exploration. I started discovering punk rock via skate videos. I finally got my own car and would expand my small world out into Lafayette, Baton Rouge, and New Orleans. It seems that my love for hip hop had begun to grow up, as I started to discover groups like Public Enemy, A Tribe Called Quest, de la Soul, 3rd Bass, Digital Underground, and Del the Funkee Homosapien. Hip Hop had found a new companion in punk, but it was still there and always stuck with me.
I began going to these warehouse parties in New Orleans. I remember being pretty mystified by the deejay up there on stage and how he would have hundreds of kids completely absorbed in his music. I was already absorbed in the burgeoning psychedelic drug craze that had reached into my rural Louisiana town. So this was a new and fascinating aspect of this culture that would combine things that I'd already become acquainted. I was also conflicted by the fact that none of these deejays scratched. Growing up listening to Jam Master Jay, Grandmaster Flash, and Grandmixer DST I thought that scratching would have been Lesson One. I felt like these cats were getting over on me.
It was a party in New Orleans, and a trip to Tower Records that changed my life. On these frequent trips to the city while everyone would go to some "afterparty", I would hang out at Cafe du Monde. I would buy a magazine, drink coffee and eat beignets as I waited for Tower to open up. At this point, I stumbled upon a graffiti magazine called Subculture and inside there was an article with Rob Swift. It intrigued me, but I was more interested in the styles of the AWR/MSK expose' on Krush and Tyke.
As I went back to my apartment in Baton Rouge, I got back to my life. It was all about school, my part time job, and yes, GIRLS. I would buy records at the record store by Chimes and at Music Treasure Chest on Acadian Thruway. I was just a record collector then, just as I had been a comic book collector. Records were art. It wasn't until one Saturday morning when I had an early call at work and I had stayed up particularly late partying that it all came together. I accidentally left my 100+ CD book on top of my car as I drove away. Almost ten years of music collecting went down the drain in one thoughtless moment. This was the moment I went from record collector to deejay. Something inside me snapped, and I began to exclusively buy vinyl. I would go to thrift stores, flea markets, out of the way spots, garage sales basically anywhere I could dig. I bought a record bag and I would carry records out to every afterhours spot I would hit. My reasoning being that maybe one day one of the deejays would let me play if he were sick or someone didn't show up. Surprisingly it happened, and I did eventually get to play records in front of people occasionally.
These were the days before I owned turntables. These were the days when I became acquainted with my something completely new... depression. What I'm sure was a side effect of all of the random drugs I was ingesting at the time, I began to have severe battles with depression. This was when I first got on Paxil. Paxil worked for me. It returned my brain to a state of manageability. It stabilized my moods and allowed me to think clearly again. In these early days of anti-depressant medication there were no real rules. No one ever told me not to abruptly quit taking my medication. The weeks after I stopped taking my Paxil began a rollercoaster ride that lasted for the next five years. I reached some of the darkest places in my young life. It made it impossible for me to keep a steady job, concentrate on school, or make any personal spiritual progress.
I did eventually cure myself, to a greater or lesser degree. Completely off of meds, I began watching what I ate and started exercising. Things started looking up and I began to get completely absorbed in Turntablism. Scratching, beat juggling and eventually battling became my new passion. At this point I wasn't concerned about making a career as a deejay. I refused to play Top 40 music, and I most certainly wasn't going to pander to club owners for gigs. I just wanted to get better, smarter, and win battles. The gigs would come.
Since then, my integrity has remained intact. Deejaying well, had never been more than just a side gig for a little pocket money until I moved to New Orleans. Once in New Orleans, I met Ed Maximillion and Melissa Weber and I started to think that I might have a chance in this larger market, to really make it as a deejay. With myspace allowing me to really get my name out globally and develop a following, I had a new mission.
I started a business. Consequently, it was deejaying that allowed the business to remain open for the first 6-8 months before it got it on it's feet. I got a manager/booking agent. He not only was my biggest fan and supporter, but he handled the parts of the business that, frankly, I hated. He was getting me good solid paying gigs, and I was seemingly picking up steam. My music knowledge began blossoming in this music Mecca, and I began to further expand my record collection.
Then he died.
I was saddened, but like Jamie always said "keep it moving"...
Keep it moving I must. The show must go on.
Christmas 1985 was all about GI Joe. Christmas 1986 was my the Nintendo Christmas. And who could forget Christmas 1987 when I got my first skateboard. As my pre-occupation for "breakdancing", rapping, and graffiti faded out as my adolescent mind grew to discover new subcultures and technology. It wouldn't be long before puberty and High School would make it so that every decision I made had something to do with girls.
The one thing that remained constant was Hip Hop music. I loved it. Run DMC, Eric B and Rakim, Kool Moe Dee, Grandmaster Melle Mel, the Sugarhill Gang, the Beastie Boys, the Fat Boys, L.L. Cool J and the other artists of the time spoke to me in a way that Pop music or bands like AC/DC, Motley Crue, and Van Halen never could.
Once in Sixth grade Mr. Collins, our hip math/science/phys. ed teacher, singled out a Run DMC lyric in a lecture about the evils of this new rap music.
"I met this little girly/ Her hair was kind of curly/ Went to her house to bust her out/ I had to leave real early." he dryly recited the verse as if he were reading it from the Bible.
He then began to launch into a tirade about the adult themes contained in this music and why we should go to Church every Sunday. These were the days before the "Parental Advisory" stickers. While I'll admit the lyrics were adult themed, I didn't truly understand them. I didn't find this anymore objectionable than the slasher flicks or Ninja movies I was allowed to watch. It was fun music for the most fun time in my life, a time I would try the entire rest of my life to re-capture.
Fast forward to Junior Year. My sister threw a party, and with my swollen tape collection and hand full of CDs I deejayed the party. We had one of those all-in-one jobs with the turntable on the top. At that time I didn't have any records. I tricked one of my sister's classmates into thinking that I was scratching the tape, by slickly tapping or pressing pause while he watched my hand touch the empty turntable platter. Yeah, he totally believed it.
Then came my voyage of self exploration. I started discovering punk rock via skate videos. I finally got my own car and would expand my small world out into Lafayette, Baton Rouge, and New Orleans. It seems that my love for hip hop had begun to grow up, as I started to discover groups like Public Enemy, A Tribe Called Quest, de la Soul, 3rd Bass, Digital Underground, and Del the Funkee Homosapien. Hip Hop had found a new companion in punk, but it was still there and always stuck with me.
I began going to these warehouse parties in New Orleans. I remember being pretty mystified by the deejay up there on stage and how he would have hundreds of kids completely absorbed in his music. I was already absorbed in the burgeoning psychedelic drug craze that had reached into my rural Louisiana town. So this was a new and fascinating aspect of this culture that would combine things that I'd already become acquainted. I was also conflicted by the fact that none of these deejays scratched. Growing up listening to Jam Master Jay, Grandmaster Flash, and Grandmixer DST I thought that scratching would have been Lesson One. I felt like these cats were getting over on me.
It was a party in New Orleans, and a trip to Tower Records that changed my life. On these frequent trips to the city while everyone would go to some "afterparty", I would hang out at Cafe du Monde. I would buy a magazine, drink coffee and eat beignets as I waited for Tower to open up. At this point, I stumbled upon a graffiti magazine called Subculture and inside there was an article with Rob Swift. It intrigued me, but I was more interested in the styles of the AWR/MSK expose' on Krush and Tyke.
As I went back to my apartment in Baton Rouge, I got back to my life. It was all about school, my part time job, and yes, GIRLS. I would buy records at the record store by Chimes and at Music Treasure Chest on Acadian Thruway. I was just a record collector then, just as I had been a comic book collector. Records were art. It wasn't until one Saturday morning when I had an early call at work and I had stayed up particularly late partying that it all came together. I accidentally left my 100+ CD book on top of my car as I drove away. Almost ten years of music collecting went down the drain in one thoughtless moment. This was the moment I went from record collector to deejay. Something inside me snapped, and I began to exclusively buy vinyl. I would go to thrift stores, flea markets, out of the way spots, garage sales basically anywhere I could dig. I bought a record bag and I would carry records out to every afterhours spot I would hit. My reasoning being that maybe one day one of the deejays would let me play if he were sick or someone didn't show up. Surprisingly it happened, and I did eventually get to play records in front of people occasionally.
These were the days before I owned turntables. These were the days when I became acquainted with my something completely new... depression. What I'm sure was a side effect of all of the random drugs I was ingesting at the time, I began to have severe battles with depression. This was when I first got on Paxil. Paxil worked for me. It returned my brain to a state of manageability. It stabilized my moods and allowed me to think clearly again. In these early days of anti-depressant medication there were no real rules. No one ever told me not to abruptly quit taking my medication. The weeks after I stopped taking my Paxil began a rollercoaster ride that lasted for the next five years. I reached some of the darkest places in my young life. It made it impossible for me to keep a steady job, concentrate on school, or make any personal spiritual progress.
I did eventually cure myself, to a greater or lesser degree. Completely off of meds, I began watching what I ate and started exercising. Things started looking up and I began to get completely absorbed in Turntablism. Scratching, beat juggling and eventually battling became my new passion. At this point I wasn't concerned about making a career as a deejay. I refused to play Top 40 music, and I most certainly wasn't going to pander to club owners for gigs. I just wanted to get better, smarter, and win battles. The gigs would come.
Since then, my integrity has remained intact. Deejaying well, had never been more than just a side gig for a little pocket money until I moved to New Orleans. Once in New Orleans, I met Ed Maximillion and Melissa Weber and I started to think that I might have a chance in this larger market, to really make it as a deejay. With myspace allowing me to really get my name out globally and develop a following, I had a new mission.
I started a business. Consequently, it was deejaying that allowed the business to remain open for the first 6-8 months before it got it on it's feet. I got a manager/booking agent. He not only was my biggest fan and supporter, but he handled the parts of the business that, frankly, I hated. He was getting me good solid paying gigs, and I was seemingly picking up steam. My music knowledge began blossoming in this music Mecca, and I began to further expand my record collection.
Then he died.
I was saddened, but like Jamie always said "keep it moving"...
Keep it moving I must. The show must go on.
Thursday, October 15, 2009
The Nightmarish Saga of my ISP (AT&T)
It is over... I got my internet back and I'm calling tomorrow to get some money credited back to my account. Sorry folks if it seems I've been slipping, but I haven't I have some things on paper that need transferring and some interviews that need unearthing once I can clean the trash out of my Facebook inbox.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Grandmaster Roc Raida RIP! (1972-2009)
This summer has been tough for me losing idols. First it was Michael Jackson, a man I emulated from adolescence throughout my teenage years. Then we lost DJ AM, an incredibly dope dj I had just seen five weeks earlier with another of my idols Dj Jazzy Jeff. Next Raida, WTF God?
I've taken a lot of time to mull over this, and actually wrote unpublished blog entries on this very subject. The one I wrote for Raida on my phone at a bar, got completely deleted... Sweeeeetttt! So I'll begin again, and maybe republish the one about AM tomorrow.
Raida e-mailed me days before his accident about possibly bringing Roc Raida's Gong Battle for Supremacy to New Orleans. I never returned the e-mail fearing that he wouldn't want to be bothered with business while he was recuperating. The next few weeks were shrouded in mystery as to exactly what happened. There was report that he had to have surgery, and was in recovery; but no specific details on Geo's board. Then out of the blue, I get the news.
Official Statement from family
Roc Raida was particularly significant because if not for the X-Men. I would have never become a dj in the first place. Who knows where I would be or what I would be doing. I remember the first time I heard X-Men Style Beats from the Return of the Dj Compilation. I couldn't begin to understand exactly what he was doing. All I knew was he did it using turntables and records and nothing else. This began my infatuation for beat juggling. I spent months and months trying to do "that thing that Raida did". I had never seen a video, I just kept listening to it over and over and over trying to make sense of this new and seemingly impossible concept. Soooo much money spent on double copies of records. That became my crack. "Yo man you got two copies of that??" All trying to duplicate, unsuccessfully I might add, what the X-Men were doing.
Then I bought X-Men in Xercise... It finally began to make sense. Wow! I was still waaaaaaaaaaaaayyyyyy far away from their skill levels, but at least I had the first set of stepping stones. Watching them candidly break down each particular routine, the level of showmanship they displayed while doing these routines, the body tricks, and the overall musical composition was just mind-blowing.
"So this was the footage that led up to the Raida's 95 World Championship??"
Over the years, I would get more and more videos, Xecutioners 97 European Tour was another mind-fuck... This was some next-level musical instrumentation. It all really seemed impossible as if these guys were from another more advanced musical planet. These guys really fueled my obsession for what had been deemed "Turntablism", and I as a young man I was looking for something to fill a void in my life that had been occupying itself with recreational drug use (yeah I said it). So I delved deeper and deeper into this world and deeper and deeper into hip hop culture.
I was never in this for fame, or girls, or money. I was becoming a musician for music's sake. I was tired of being just a casual listener, a consumer, a wall-flower. I wanted to contribute. In my little sugarcane hometown, there wasn't much for me in the realm of dj inspiration. I had to move to Lafayette before I would even meet someone else that was a dj, much less a scratch dj. So I continued to create in a bubble, that's when met the first members of the crew Beauregard Breaux and T-Mike Girouard, these guys shared my love for all things hip hop and were down to help me figure this turntablism thing out. So for the longest time it was us in a room with three turntables and two mixers, just figuring it all out. I would learn scratch-drumming, Mike would learn a simple juggle breakdown, Beau would learn a scratch. We fed off of each other, and learned. It began to snowball until we all felt confident enough that WE could actually battle and win.
All of this wouldn't have happened if not for Roc Raida. I only met him once, to ask he, Rob Swift, Mista Sinista, and Total Eclipse to sign the jacket of X-Pressions at the State Palace Theater in 1998. So I never really knew him besides the correspondence I had with him through emails. But the emails meant a lot to me and he helped me on the path into what I am today.
So Raida, you meant a lot to me. If it wasn't for you, there truly would be no me.
Rest in Peace Brother Roc Raida, you were the personification of a Grandmaster.
I've taken a lot of time to mull over this, and actually wrote unpublished blog entries on this very subject. The one I wrote for Raida on my phone at a bar, got completely deleted... Sweeeeetttt! So I'll begin again, and maybe republish the one about AM tomorrow.
Raida e-mailed me days before his accident about possibly bringing Roc Raida's Gong Battle for Supremacy to New Orleans. I never returned the e-mail fearing that he wouldn't want to be bothered with business while he was recuperating. The next few weeks were shrouded in mystery as to exactly what happened. There was report that he had to have surgery, and was in recovery; but no specific details on Geo's board. Then out of the blue, I get the news.
Official Statement from family
Roc Raida was particularly significant because if not for the X-Men. I would have never become a dj in the first place. Who knows where I would be or what I would be doing. I remember the first time I heard X-Men Style Beats from the Return of the Dj Compilation. I couldn't begin to understand exactly what he was doing. All I knew was he did it using turntables and records and nothing else. This began my infatuation for beat juggling. I spent months and months trying to do "that thing that Raida did". I had never seen a video, I just kept listening to it over and over and over trying to make sense of this new and seemingly impossible concept. Soooo much money spent on double copies of records. That became my crack. "Yo man you got two copies of that??" All trying to duplicate, unsuccessfully I might add, what the X-Men were doing.
Then I bought X-Men in Xercise... It finally began to make sense. Wow! I was still waaaaaaaaaaaaayyyyyy far away from their skill levels, but at least I had the first set of stepping stones. Watching them candidly break down each particular routine, the level of showmanship they displayed while doing these routines, the body tricks, and the overall musical composition was just mind-blowing.
"So this was the footage that led up to the Raida's 95 World Championship??"
Over the years, I would get more and more videos, Xecutioners 97 European Tour was another mind-fuck... This was some next-level musical instrumentation. It all really seemed impossible as if these guys were from another more advanced musical planet. These guys really fueled my obsession for what had been deemed "Turntablism", and I as a young man I was looking for something to fill a void in my life that had been occupying itself with recreational drug use (yeah I said it). So I delved deeper and deeper into this world and deeper and deeper into hip hop culture.
I was never in this for fame, or girls, or money. I was becoming a musician for music's sake. I was tired of being just a casual listener, a consumer, a wall-flower. I wanted to contribute. In my little sugarcane hometown, there wasn't much for me in the realm of dj inspiration. I had to move to Lafayette before I would even meet someone else that was a dj, much less a scratch dj. So I continued to create in a bubble, that's when met the first members of the crew Beauregard Breaux and T-Mike Girouard, these guys shared my love for all things hip hop and were down to help me figure this turntablism thing out. So for the longest time it was us in a room with three turntables and two mixers, just figuring it all out. I would learn scratch-drumming, Mike would learn a simple juggle breakdown, Beau would learn a scratch. We fed off of each other, and learned. It began to snowball until we all felt confident enough that WE could actually battle and win.
All of this wouldn't have happened if not for Roc Raida. I only met him once, to ask he, Rob Swift, Mista Sinista, and Total Eclipse to sign the jacket of X-Pressions at the State Palace Theater in 1998. So I never really knew him besides the correspondence I had with him through emails. But the emails meant a lot to me and he helped me on the path into what I am today.
So Raida, you meant a lot to me. If it wasn't for you, there truly would be no me.
Rest in Peace Brother Roc Raida, you were the personification of a Grandmaster.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Hey, It's a brand new day...
So what's up everyone... I hope you guys have read the DMC NOLA blog. Well, it seemed inappropriate to continue with the DMC theme for any longer. Since that fateful day the world has lost two important figures in djing DJ AM and Roc Raida RIP, but that's another post. It is my mission to give my readers not ONLY information on deejaying, music, or whatever, but a real portal into my day to day life, my opinions, things I like, my hopes and dreams, setbacks, failure, success, joy, madness.
I am a lover of all things done well. I am a soul searcher, and this blog is just as much for me as it is for whoever reads it. This is therapy... a sort of live public journal, which is what I believe the original purpose of the "blog" was meant to be. There are so many different types of blogs and all have a certain amount of entertainment value. Mine will be no different. I will offer you something more valuable than entertainment. I will offer you a portal into my mind and thoughts, a real piece of me for you to take, digest, and regurgitate however you like. If you keep reading, I'll hold up my end of the bargain and continue to crank out intelligent, legible things.
If you were a fan of the DMC NOLA blog, I've imported the posts from so you can go back and reflect. I was very proud of that blog, and I will be returning to it when the time comes to do DMC NOLA II. Now it's time to get to work on the new baby.
Thanks,
Management
I am a lover of all things done well. I am a soul searcher, and this blog is just as much for me as it is for whoever reads it. This is therapy... a sort of live public journal, which is what I believe the original purpose of the "blog" was meant to be. There are so many different types of blogs and all have a certain amount of entertainment value. Mine will be no different. I will offer you something more valuable than entertainment. I will offer you a portal into my mind and thoughts, a real piece of me for you to take, digest, and regurgitate however you like. If you keep reading, I'll hold up my end of the bargain and continue to crank out intelligent, legible things.
If you were a fan of the DMC NOLA blog, I've imported the posts from so you can go back and reflect. I was very proud of that blog, and I will be returning to it when the time comes to do DMC NOLA II. Now it's time to get to work on the new baby.
Thanks,
Management
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