X-ecutioners: Turning the Tables

X-MenSunday afternoon in San Diego. I’d just woken up after a nap to try and kill a headache. I groggily checked the clock. “I have to meet Rob Swift in Solana Beach in fifteen minutes,” I thought to myself. I grabbed a Coke out of the ‘fridge, my hand-held recorder and hit the road.

On my way up I-5, chugging the Coke, I scrawled possible questions on my hand with a Sharpie. Less prepared for this interview, I could not be.

Luckily, when I arrived and Rob came down from his room to meet me, he’d just woken up as well. He got a cup of hot cocoa and we slumped on the couch, chatting sleepily.

The last time I saw Rob was five years ago. The X-Men (as they are known in un-copyrighted contexts) were playing at the Crocodile Café in Seattle. Rob, Total Eclipse, Roc Raida, Mista Sinista (who’s since left the group to pursue acting projects and solo career) and I gathered around a table in the Croc’s back bar to discuss the future of turntablism. Right then it looked as if DJs as artists were finally making headway in the competitive milieu of modern music. Om Records’ Deep Concentration tour (featuring Radar, Peanut Butter Wolf and Cut Chemist on this particular leg) had just played at the Showbox the night before. Despite the enthusiasm we all felt at the time, a breakthrough of the art of the turntable was not to be.

X-MenIn the five years since our last meeting, the DJ has remained in the background. Rarely heard on even Hip-hop compositions, some of the most talented musicians of our time still toil in the background of the underground. The Invizble Skratch Piklz (The X-men’s West Coast counterparts) disbanded — each to pursue his own projects — leaving the X-Men as the leading DJ crew still together, putting out their own records.

“In a way, I feel like we are leading the way and setting the example,” Rob says between sips from his hot cocoa. “At this point we’re the most high-profile DJ group so we kinda set the pace. That’s not to say that we’re better than anybody, or that we’re the best, or that nobody can fuck with us, but on one level, we are the leaders. We’re the first group to make it to Billboard. We made it to shows like Carson Daly and MTV’s Icon. We’re definitely knocking a lot of doors down that haven’t even been touched by other DJ crews.” True dat: The X-ecutioners second full-length Built from Scratch (Sony, 2002) debuted at number fifteen on the Billboard charts. They’ve been in a Gap commercial, on David Letterman and, thanks to a collaboration with Mike Shinoda and Mr. Hahn from Linkin Park, they’ve gotten airplay all over the place.

“I’m glad that the record has gotten the exposure that it has because it’s good for the music in general,” Rob says. “People are like ‘Why’d you do a song with Linkin Park? They’re a rock band.’ But why not? Rock and Hip-hop have had a relationship since the beginning of Hip-hop. DJs used to cut Rock records in the 70s: Aerosmith, Rush, Billy Squire, AC/DC…” By collaborating with members of Linkin Park, the X-Men were able to slip under the mainstream’s radar, and as Rob adds, “Let people hear a whole other way of making music.”

Finding this “other way of making music” has been an ongoing quest for me. In 1995, feeling that art of the DJ was disappearing from Hip-hop, I went in search of the lost art of the scratch. After a few months of digging in the crates and combing the independent Hip-hop releases in various record stores, I found Bomb Records’ first DJ Compilation, The Return of the DJ, Vol. One. It was here that I found the Skratch Piklz, Beat Junkies, Z-Trip and Radar, Cut Chemist and the X-Men and was briefly sanguine about the survival of art form. Seven years later, it’s still and underground phenomenon and one still has to search for it, save the exposure that the X-Men have garnered.

The cover of Built from Scratch pays homage to Public Enemy’s 1986 debut, Yo! Bumrush the Show (Def Jam/Columbia), featuring not only the X-Men, but the pioneers of turntablism as well.

“We’re all Public Enemy fans in the group,” Rob says explaining the cover. “I was a huge Public Enemy fan, I have pictures of myself with Chuck D. I met him in like1986 or 87 at a show he did in the Bronx. So, our manager, Peter Kang, was like, ‘It would be really cool if the cover of the album was a tribute to Yo! Bumrush the Show where it’s the same basement setting and you guys are plotting to take over Hip-hop. You guys would be like the S1Ws and Flavor Flav would be Grand Wizard Theodore…’ and so on and so forth. We have Grand Wizard Theodore, Kool Herc, Grand Mixer DST: three legends of DJing, and three different generations of DJing, and then you have us. When you look at the cover, it shows the lineage of DJing, where it’s been and where it is now.” This image puts the perfect face on a sound that is indeed bumrushing the industry, not unlike the way Public Enemy did in the late eighties. The compositions that the X-Men build with scratches are comparable to nothing else in music. Ever. The only analogy lies in the improvisation of Jazz musicians. Even then, the X-Men aren’t limited by any one instrument — they can play and manipulate any recorded sound.

Later that night at The Scene in the Clairemont-Mesa area of San Diego, the tag team crew of Total Eclipse, Roc Raida and Rob Swift manipulated many sounds live on stage. This is where the art of DJing truly manifests itself. With a row of Technics 1200s linked by various mixers and cables, the X-Men wreck shop. Blending beats, samples and their unique styles into an aural onslaught – intricately timed and improvised on the spot — these guys don’t seem to notice the limits they break on a daily basis.

“The most important thing with the next album is to figure out a way to re-invent ourselves again,” Rob stated earlier, thinking ahead. “To not come out sounding the same is the most challenging thing that we’re going to face.”

X-Men
[The X-Men check sound at the Crocodile circa 1997.]

[SLAP Magazine, 2002]

[photos by Roy Christopher]

One Song

Though I haven’t been keeping up with the actual lyrics, I do have a passing awareness that there’s currently lyrical beef between Nas and Jigga. This is only relevant to the following in that as much as I respect Jay-Z, he and everyone else has now fallen behind. Continue reading “One Song”

MC Paul Barman: Architect of Dialect, Fulfiller of Dreams, Over-Educated MC Über Alles

MC Paul Barman“I love that we’re talking about this right next to the water,” says a prophetic Paul Barman. We’re sitting on the beach in San Diego just outside Cane’s Bar and Grill where MC Paul Barman is playing his first San Diego gig — with Mix Master Mike no less. Our casual, pre-show chat has turned to water, and he’s turned very serious. Continue reading “MC Paul Barman: Architect of Dialect, Fulfiller of Dreams, Over-Educated MC Über Alles”

Paul D. Miller a.k.a. DJ Spooky: Subliminal Minded

DJ SpookyIf ever there were a postmodern-day Renaissance man, he is Paul D. Miller. Painter, philosopher, social scientist, DJ, author, and producer (among others) are all hats that fit snugly on his head. He is probably best known as “DJ Spooky aka That Subliminal Kid,” but this is only one of many roles he has taken on and made a success of in a process he calls “social sculpture.” He’s also the only DJ I’ve ever seen cut up a Marshall McLuhan record, closing the loop in more ways than one. Continue reading “Paul D. Miller a.k.a. DJ Spooky: Subliminal Minded”

William Upski Wimsatt: The Revolution Will Not Be Taught in School

Shifting his ever-focused attention from Hip-hop to home-schooling, William Upski Wimsatt is changing perceptions and mixing people up like no other. “We’re turning the education system on its head and making it do headspins!” Billy announces proudly. As a graffiti artist-cum-youth activist, Billy criss-crossed the country on a two-year tour promoting his latest book No More Prisons (Soft Skull, 1999). Continue reading “William Upski Wimsatt: The Revolution Will Not Be Taught in School”

Graffiti: Discontents Under Pressure

Gotta get up, kid!One of the major things that differentiates the human species from all other species on Earth is our ability to externalize subjective memory. To write things down. To store and exchange ideas outside of our brains. This all started with cave paintings and etchings. Graffiti, if you will, was the beginning of written history.

Graffiti proper, in the modern sense of the term, started in the late 1960s in New York City when a kid from the Washington Heights section of Manhattan known as Taki 183 (“Taki” being his tag name and “183” being the street he lived on) emblazoned his tag all over NYC. He worked as a messenger and traveled all five boroughs via the subways. As such, he was the first “All-City” tagger. Impressed by his ubiquity and subsequent notoriety, many kids followed suit and graffiti eventually became a widespread renegade art form. Graff writers embellished their names with colors, arrows, 3-D effects and mad lettering styles.

By the mid-to-late 1970s, New York — especially its subway system — was literally covered with brightly colored murals with not only tag names, but holiday messages, anti-establishment slogans and full-on art works known as “pieces” (short for “masterpieces”). The world of graff preceded the rest of Hip-Hop culture, but became an integral part during hip hop’s early-1980s boom, joining Breakdancing, emceeing and DJing as Hip-Hop’s four elements.

“Pimpguy” by S!R ONEReplacing the drab city walls and boring metal subway trains with greetings and flashy colors, most graffiti artists honestly saw themselves as doing a service to the city. City officials and stuffy citizens hardly agreed. Massive anti-graffiti campaigns grew right along with the artform itself and are still in effect today in most major metropolitan areas. These specialized anti-graffiti forces only added to the artform’s already outlawed status. The ability to pull off a hype piece under such increasing pressure only made great writers more revered for their skills.

Graffiti still thrives in the jungles of our inner cities. It has survived as what Jello Biafra recently mentioned as “the last bastion of free speech”, and Abbie Hoffman called wall painting “one of the best forms of free communication.” Anyone can grab a can of spray paint or a fat marker and make their thoughts known to the passing population. You can buff graffiti, you can paint over it and you can arrest its practitioners, but as long as someone feels that their voice isn’t being heard, you can’t make it go away.

[Disinformation, October 18, 1999]
[photo by Drew Donnolly]
[art by SIRONE]

De La Soul: Stakes is Still High

In the mid-to-late 80s, I wasn’t much for Run-DMC or L.L. Hip-hop existed to me mostly through records by Public Enemy, Ice T, and Boogie Down Productions. I liked their stuff because it was about something. Rap thus far had been mostly about itself.

In 1989 when BDP’s Ghetto Music came out, my man Thomas (my main source for what was solid as far as Hip-hop was concerned) said he would tape it for me. What he failed to mention was that he was putting something else on the B-side… That tape changed the way I viewed the entire genre of Hip-hop. The songs on the flip of KRS-One’s usual positive raps were from De La Soul’s Three Feet High and Rising (Tommy Boy, 1989) . This was the first record that spoke freely about the ills of Hip-hop so far. It was the first anti-rap rap record, if you will. I wasn’t the only one geeked either: Kids who’d never thought twice about rap were all over De La. It was enough to make them denounce everything they’d established with Three Feet… on their next release, De La Soul Is Dead (Tommy Boy, 1991).

But Posdnous a.k.a. Wonder Why (Plug One), Trugoy the Dove a.k.a. Dr. Ama (Plug Two), and P. A. Mase a.k.a. Baby Huey (Plug Three) didn’t stagnate there. They’ve taken themselves and the whole genre with them (four records strong) to new heights with every release. Hip-hop is a genre that constantly rotates and changes. It’s nearly impossible to maintain any sort of popularity without selling your soul every time you come out (anyone remember when Ice Cube happily recorded his first solo joint in New York?). Longevity coupled with integrity in Hip-hop is truly reserved for the absolute cream of the crop.

De La Soul is from the soul.

I thought hard about the prospect of talking to De La Soul. Not only was I nervous and excited, but I felt like I already knew so much about them. De La Soul speaks from the soul. This fact cannot be denied. Their records reveal so much about what’s going on in their personal lives, there’s almost nothing to ask.

“We as people outside of the industry are alway trying to learn more,” Posdnous explains. “And whatever we take in, we try our best to convey it on wax. So beyond trying to find the best beats and the best music, we try to convey the best we can the evolution of the group. And not justtrying to have th emost positive message, because it could be in a negative light or us being upset or us not finding peace and tranquility… We try to balance it correctly because sometimes, regardless of how you feel, the best tracks may be focused on negative things. We try to have a balance of positive and negative on an album because there’s a balance to what a the human being is. All we try to do is just stay true to who we are as people. We can’t just focus on doing what we wanna do and let it be on wax. We separate ourselves as rappers and realize we are just people, and we just try to do the best we can as people. And that just naturally shows in our music. I’m just happy people have stuck behind us.”

Where every aspect is vivid, these niggas no longer talk shit — these niggas live it.

Just two days after I talked to Pos, Biggie Smalls was gunned down in a drive-by shooting. Biggie was only twenty-four years old and is the second well-known emcee to be killed by gunfire in six months. Events like this are adored by all forms of media because the drama makes good copy, but in the process it gives rap music a bad name. The whole damn genre needs rehab. Just like the kids debating in the first scene of Spike’s movie Clockers, heads claim you’re not hard if you don’t kill people. Doing the things you talk about on record is considered by many “keeping it real,” but the grammatical first person in a rap song doesn’t necessarily mean the rapper.

“Even on an entertainment level,” Pos says addressing the issue, “back in the day, even when there was beef, it was more lyrically focused. Whereas now it’s on more of a physical level.” Theatrics used to play a huge role in lyrical storytelling, but nowadays one is expected to be that person — theatrics or not. This clash of lyrical-character versus man-on-the-street is like walls closing in. And those walls are already closed for Tupac Shakur and Chris Wallace.

See but don’t do like the Soul, because seeing and doing are actions for monkeys.

“There’s a lot of groups trying to do positive things,” states Pos, “from Cool J to the Fugees trying to organize fund-raisers, Adam Yauch from the Beastie Boys doing the Tibetan Freedom Concert every year… There’s a host of others trying to do positive things.” The most important thing out here is creativity. Like KRS-One says, “You can be a pimp, hustler, or player, but make sure on stage you are a dope rhyme sayer.” Hip-hop is still a young culture and genre, so creativity is a must if it is to expand as an art form and even to simply maintain its existence. De La Soul is easily one of the major benchmarks of innovation in the short history of Hip-hop, even though other groups have reached a larger audience by borrowing their style.

“I definitely feel we had some type of influence,” says Pos, “but sometimes I don’t even credit it to an influence, but just a reassurance of what we were already doing. I don’t like to think that a lot of groups were rapping one way and then when they heard us they started focusing on how we do things. There’s a lot of groups out there who had the same ideas, the same views, and the same energy, but we were just lucky enough to get on first so that helped a lot of record companies pay attention to the groups who were out there like that. When we were trying to put out unit together, there were a lot of rapers out before us that assured us that what we’re doing could be done.” Given, De La begs, borrows, and ganks from the old school, but they blend so much of their own lives into the stew that it can’t help but come out innovative.

Is it my De La clothes, or is it because we hate this song?

As irrelevant as it might seem to their true fans, De La’s record sales have dropped off since Three Feet High and Rising‘s surprise hit “Me, Myself, and I,” but that’s just not what De La Soul is about. “Obviously record sales have dropped because to us it’s not about trying to have this one radio hit that’s not really saying nothing at the end of the day — a year from now, or even a month from now and it’s not even remembered,” Pos says seriously. “We can make those easily. I’m not saying that ‘Me, Myself, and I’ is something that was necessarily forgotten, but we can make those for days. It was just never about making that. A lot fo people do focus on that and at the end of the day for them, it’s about money. A lot of people want to get a lot out of Hip-hop and don’t put anything into it. Forget it. This is a dying art form and I wast to put something back into it.”

[originally published in frontwheeldrive #47]