Several years ago, my friend Greg Sundin gave me Mike Ladd’s Welcome to the Afterfuture (Ozone, 2000). I was instantly hooked. Ladd’s spaced-out beats and intelligent wordplay push the limits of hip-hop until they break into noisy splinters. Genre distinctions can’t hold the man. He’s been performing in every possible way since age thirteen, but his body of work reflects the very best that hip-hop can be. After digesting Afterfuture, I simply had to hear more.
“Big wheel, big spin, big money, no whammies
Don’t save me a seat when you get to the Grammys” — nomadboy
So, against my better judgment, I watched the Grammys the other night. This viewing experiment reminded me both of how much I love music and how far away my tastes are from “Grammy material.” I made a quick trip to Lou’s Records in Encinitas, California prior to the show, and my purchases there should prove more than my point.
Last week my girl and I were headed out to get some lunch. We were driving through back roads in San Diego, and we got stuck behind this big, honking SUV in which the driver was talking on the phone: nothing out of the ordinary, but frustrating nonetheless. Anyway, this monstrosity-on-wheels kept creeping along, veering from one side of the road to the other. Just as I was about to lose it and lay on the horn, the SUV took a slow, un-signaled left and crawled out of the way.
In the early 90s, the sport of BMX all but died. The magazines, sanctioning bodies, and many of the companies disappeared. In the void left, the pros of the previous era started their own companies and events, following the model Steve Rocco had established in skateboarding in the late 80s. With many of the old pros busy with companies and organizations and the field of riders thinned-out in general, this new milieu left room for new pros. It was during this time that Taj Mihelich emerged as one of BMX’s …