Our good friend, record broker, and resident Darrell-Hammond-impersonating-Sean-Connery-impersonator Age has posted a quick record check on Soulstrut. Age is a serious collector and if he's willing to give you a peek into his crates, it's a good idea to peep game. Please note that he has generously included an audio clip of the holy grail of San Jose gospel funk, Aposento Alto. Act quickly, they take the sound clips down as soon as they archive the features.
Hip-Hop does not create renaissance men (or women) anymore. And we can't really count rappers who have dropped TJ Maxx-bound clothing lines, flavored beverages (soft and hard), TV shows, shoe horns, whatever side-hustles many rappers have undertaken to over-saturate the market on all fronts. Biz Markie did not rely on any of that.
In a time when Hip-Hop was young and cutting-edge, and before it lost grip of its roots, Biz Markie was an all-out entertainer: a successful hit maker both over and underground, a active DJ, a well-schooled record collector, and a mic-soaking beatboxer. He supposedly has an absurd toy collection, as he claims in the Hip-Hop factoid book Ego Trip's Big Book of Rap Lists. He was also the comic relief character of one of the greatest posses the rap game has ever known: the Juice Crew.
Who could forget his earth-shattering rendition of "The Star Spangled Banner" (in which he donned a Hendrix-style dashiki, blowout wig and lefty white Stratocaster) to open the festivities at the Tibetan Freedom Concert? The best part about that particular performance was his inability to play a single note on the guitar. Rather, he substituted shredding for belting "raow raows" belligerently . In that performance, the Biz kept true to the principles of his ground-breaking single "Make The Music With Your Mouth."
His rendition of Elton John's classic "Benny and the Jets" (recorded with his chums the Beastie Boys) is also a fine cut of pure, raw, off-the-cuff entertainment. He manages to pull off a gut-busting performance, without knowing a majority of the song's lyrics.
Nowadays, he moonlights as a venue-packing DJ, preserves the art of beatboxing as a segment host on Nick Jr.'s children's show Yo Gabba Gabba, where he teaches viewers how to make music with THEIR mouths.
His legend will allegedly be immortalized in an upcoming film entitled The Vapors, a biopic about the Juice Crew. The Biz is slated to be portrayed by chart-topping Mississippian rapper David Banner (I'm sure you're just as curious as I am as to how this is going to work).
As the Hip-Hop game awaits its next true all-around entertainer, the Biz stands alone in his own class. With Biz Markie, it is ALWAYS that kind of party. Keep a close watch on your mashed potatoes...
“Lemme Tell You A Story Of My Situation…”
What was the first hip-hop related thing you ever did?
Beatboxing. I mean, I was a kid and that was just the first thing I took up when it came to hip-hop. I didn’t think about, I just sorta did it, ya know?
How was New York when you were just a young beatboxer?
It was so amazing. It wasn’t even a baby, more like a wild seven-year-old. It was a beautiful thing then.
How’d your life change when “Just A Friend” blew up?
Not much changed. I just became really, really popular overnight and got more money. But otherwise I was the same and not much changed. I’m always the same dude no matter what.
What do you think is your best album?
I can’t even tell you ‘cause they’re all different and significant in different ways. How’d you end up hooking up with Prism records?
Tyrone Williams brought me over there.
Where were you when you found out about the whole court case over your sample usage?
I was driving in my car and they told me about it. Good thing is, I never even had to got o court! It was the record company’s thing.
Did you think it affected “ I Need A Haircut”, or your career for that matter?
I actually didn’t think it affected things much. I felt real talented then, and now too, so I would’ve just jumped into something else. I’m a survivor. Whatever I do, I’ll always provide and survive. But the case affected hip-hop as a whole. Did you think it’d be that monumental?
I didn’t know then that it’d be that important. I just thought it was another court case. Sorta like if you got pulled over and got a traffic ticket or something [laughs]. I don’t even really think about it. I know it was important, but I have to only think about the future. I did that during the case and I still do that now.
When you look back, do you think you were a highly influential character?
Yeah. I think the way I did things were influential ‘cause it’s still reflected in people today. You know, the way people rap and have their pants sagging whatever. Many little things man. Maybe I didn’t invent these things, but I popularized it in many ways. I popularized a lot of things.
“Cause I Have Friends, And That’s A Fact”
What struck you when you met Marley Marl?
He knew how to make great records, plus he was on the radio. That right there caught my attention immediately.
Let’s talk about how you met members of the Juice Crew. How’d you meet Fly Ty Williams?
He aight. He was a manager and was real hard working in the beginning. But when the money came into play, he wasn’t as hardworking.
What about Shan?
I met MC Shan in a hallway randomly. My man Phil Rodriguez from Long Island brought me out to his cousin’s house and Shan lived right across the street. He said, “You I know this kid named Shan?’ I’ll introduce you to him.” And that’s how we met.
Are those stories true about you meeting Big Daddy Kane at a battle?
Yeah, I met Kane in Brooklyn and we rapped against each other. So after we met and battled, we got down because I used to get into all kinds of parties and stuff. So he’d eventually roll with me. How’d you connect with Kool G Rap and DJ Polo?
I met G Rap through Polo. I met Polo from Marley’s house. That’s where everybody used to record and just kick it. So I ran into Polo at Marley’s and Polo introduced me to this cat named Kool G Rap. What about Craig G?
When I met Craig, he was actually doing a record in Marley’s house. He was from Queensbridge, so he was another local kid from the way. What about the younger members, like Tragedy?
I knew Tragedy since he was a little kid in Queensbridge. Where did you meet Roxanne Shante?
I met Shante in a park.
Masta Ace?
I met Ace at Marley’s too. How about TJ Swan?
He was my boy from Long Island and we got together to do stuff. I got him to sing with me. And what about Cool V?
V’s my cousin. We knew each other since we were teenagers and he became a really dope DJ right before my eyes, so I had to get him onboard to whatever I was doing. So Marley’s house linked everyone together?
Yeah, sort of. I met everyone at Marley’s house at different times. Plus we all to record there. Everything went through Marley. His house was the nucleus. How about “The Bridge” rivalry? What’s your outlook on that now?
It isn’t as big of a deal as everyone made it out to be. I mean, we were friends with BDP and Scott La Rock. It wasn’t a big fight or anything. I mean, I had to give Chris props. We were friends, we were cool. I still look at Chris as one of the greatest. He was innovative but had a lot of heart too. What was your main contribution to establishing Cold Chillin’?
Besides me being me, I was like a talent finder. I like to believe in people, so I put Kane on. I was always a team player and that’s probably my main contribution to Cold Chillin’. What are your final thoughts on the Juice Crew?
There will never be another Juice Crew. Ever. But I’d say that the closest thing to Juice Crew would have to be Wu-Tang. I mean, like us, they had different rhyme styles, personalities and they all rhymed about different things. “Oh Snap, Guess What I Saw…”
After doing TV shows and making guest appearances on other people’s records, would you consider making another rap album?
I have been thinking about it. I mean, I always have ideas, ya know? But I think that the way rap is going right now, my style might be a little too old.
What do you mean by “the way rap is going right now”. What’s your take on it?
Things are more catered to corporate now. You know, they’re just in it to make money. I mean, of course we all are, but it’s losing its art. It’s a sad thing man. At least to me.
Are there any artists you currently like?
I like them all as long as they’re keeping hip-hop alive and are being true. It’s hard to just say one artist. I know a lot of artists I don’t like though!
You’re busy it seems. What do you do on your off days?
I like to relax! I like to watch movies and I like to play records. I also like looking for breakbeats and stuff. I like doin’ whatever!
The last time most people saw you was probably on Celebrity Fit Club. How was the experience of being on a reality show??
It was weird! But only because I didn’t know any of the other celebrities on there. We were a bunch of strangers really. I mean, I had seen them all on TV before. But had to get to know them. We were honestly like a big family once we got to know each other. Your history in the public, and music in general, is real unique comparatively speaking. What do you think is your place in pop culture?
How do I say this? Um, I don’t look at myself as just part of hip-hop. I look at myself as being sorta important at different times. I was always popular at school and that sorta carried over to my career. When I make a record, I don’t just make it for one purpose—I do it for many different reasons. I don’t think I’ll be remembered for just one thing, ya know? Can you tell us some of your all time favorite rappers and producers?
My favorite rappers weren’t on records. So I can’t really say. I mean, I love Grand Master Flash, & Furious Five, Cold Crush, Crash Crew and Def Committee─ those are the people y’all would know. Other cats no one’s ever heard of ‘cause I saw them perform and they’d blow me away and I’d never see them again.
What do you want people to say about The Biz a hundred years from now?
He was a crazy dude.
One last question: Are all those rumors true? Do you have the Take Me To Mardi Gras pressing without the bells?
The one with no bells? Yeah I got that. As you sit on the phone, hold on, I’ll get people who’ve heard it and have seen it, hold on…I could put Jazzy Jeff or Kenny Dope on the phone right now and they’ll tell you. Everybody wants to come to my house and look through my record collection and find it. Everyone thinks it’s a myth but it’s not.
[on hold, but still audible] Um…hold on…um…Kenny, wake up Kenny! Oh Kenny! Kenny wake up! Ah, I can’t get anybody on the phone, but I promise, I got it.
As a child, shooting hoops in my driveway, I knew every angle off the backboard, every crack in the pavement, every boundary real and imagined. Though I had a group of neighborhood kids I regularly played with, I spent a lot of time shooting, dribbling, and daydreaming out there by myself. On the days when I had a particularly good day shooting, I felt like I could play with, and maybe even beat Michael Jordan. I'd practice last-second buzzer-beaters, high-arching shots over his outstretched fingers, and I could practically hear the applause when I, a short, chubby kid with minimal skills, improbably succeeded in beating the best to ever pick up a ball. I would relish the fantasy until the streetlights came on, take a long drink from the hose, and then go inside, eat dinner, and do my homework. What I didn't do was spend the rest of those idyllic evenings stitching a crude replica of my imagined uniform, forging elaborate scorecards of the epic one-on-one battle, and recording my own Sportscenter-style highlight tapes documenting the historic event. If I had done all of that for about fifteen or twenty years, without telling anyone, all the while diligently shooting threes from the sidewalk and waiting for the moment when a wayward NBA scout came trolling for talent down Edenwood Drive, I might have been a sort of basketball version of Mingering Mike. The strange saga of "Imaginary Soul Superstar" Mingering Mike, familiar to readers of Soulstrut and Wax Poetics but basically unheard of in the world at large, has gotten much more interesting in the past months with the release of a definitive book-length account of his career and the 45-only release of one of his few recordings. The book, written by the sensitive and savvy crate digger Dori Hadar, who originally discovered the cache of Mingering Mike records at a Washington, D.C. area flea market, is essentially a collection of high-quality reproductions of Mike's incredible art work and a brief biography that works toward answering the many questions one has when faced with the fascinating artifacts of a decades-long imaginary career, namely "Who is he?" What motivated him?" and What happened to him?" In short, he was a shy and eccentric young man with a deep love of music and few social skills. He filled countless hours crafting a wide array of fake album covers, and in many cases, cardboard stand-ins for the records themselves, which he imagined as abundantly successful yet socially conscious soul hits. The imagined albums were to have been written, played, manufactured, and marketed by Mingering (you're gonna have to read the book for the origin of that peculiar though appropriate moniker) Mike himself and his associates, most of whom were based on his family members, many of whom were assigned proto-hip-hop-sounding aliases, including Audio Andre, Joseph War, Miss Fly Darlene, and his constant companion, the Big "D." Mike, who prefers not to be known by his full name, is alive and well, resides in the D.C. metro area, and is pleased but slightly embarrassed by the recent attention paid to the products of his youthful introversion. The sheer range of artists, labels, and records that Mike created, many with detailed back stories and liner notes, makes the archival process worthwhile. Part of what makes the covers so fascinating is the scrupulous attention to detail they display. As an avid though financially limited record collector, Mike had an eye for assimilating the prevailing design elements of the heyday of soul into his own paint and marker creations. He was careful to include minutia such as catalog numbers, label logos, publishing information, and recording dates. In some cases he went so far as to carefully ease his covers into shrink wrap and re-apply price tags from various local stores. These elements in particular drew Hadar's initial attention. He thought he had discovered an unknown musician, when in fact he had stumbled onto something much more interesting: an artist who had created an intensely personal body of work, hidden away for decades for fear of misunderstanding, whose time had finally come. Because so many of us reformed hip-hop enthusiasts are fascinated by and devoted to unearthing under-appreciated artifacts from the underbelly of American soul music, Mike's work will be seen, and in one small instance, heard, by the curious and receptive masses of record nerds the world over. In many ways, this project is the ultimate expression of the crate-digging ethos. Though there have been some watershed moments of validation for our culture, such as the Brainfreeze phenomenon and the emergence of several well-respected reissue labels, the story of Mingering Mike has implications for the disparate worlds of studio art (the covers and other artifacts surrounding Mike's career have been shown at Hemphill Fine Arts, in Washington), digital media (Hadar initially posted his finds on crate digging forum Soulstrut.com, which lead to numerous stories on the phenomenon in well-respected mainstream media outlets), and of course, the history of independent soul. Beyond merely hoarding or cataloguing something rare and therefore interesting, Hadar and fellow digger Frank Beylotte saved a completely unique, brilliant, yet somewhat bizarre body of work from the abyss of unobserved history. One truly commendable aspect of the book is the overarching tone: scholarly in an everyman way, amazed yet slightly bewildered, and always deeply respectful of Mike, his dream, and the resulting documents. I kept waiting for someone (there are three essays of varying length that comprise the text) to point out that Mike can't really draw, that his grammar, spelling and syntax are all over the place, and that his enterprise, though understandable in a child, had extended long past adolescence to become more of an obsession than a hobby. That moment never comes, and the further you read into the story, the more of a hero Mike becomes. He's an enigmatic figure, but he was a man who did what he thought was right both in his mundane reality and his fabulous alter-existence as a superstar, consequences aside. This dynamic is especially evident in the lone recording to emerge from the hundreds of pieces of Mingering ephemera Hadar unearthed. Ever since I first became aware of Mingering Mike in the pages of Wax Poetics, I have wanted to hear the records that were supposed to be housed in those deeply fascinating sleeves. Thanks to the efforts of those entrusted with preserving the Mingering legacy, that is finally possible. The record, "There's Nothing Wrong With You Baby" parts one and two, was recently released by the Vanguard Squad, with all proceeds donated to Mike. It is simply fascinating, both musically and physically, with packaging that is utterly faithful to Mike's vision. It consists of three separate reproductions: a stiff, hand-glued outer sleeve with full lyrics, portraits of Mike and "D," and no fewer than three different label logos, the heartwarming and slightly political inner sleeve (to quote: "I'm very concern with the growing rates of suicides, thefts, killings, alcolhalism, addicts, prostitutes, fakes, frauds, high cost of living..." and so on), and the similar but unique green and brown labels for each side. Mike and Big "D," performing as The Freedom Stompers, vocalize each of the instruments in Mike's original composition save the drums, which were mimicked by (you can't make this up... it might be the single most essentially soulful thing I've ever heard in my life) beating a phone book with an Afro pick. They imitate the bass line, the melody, and both backing and lead vocals. The song itself is a sort of empowerment anthem/sly come-on to an unnamed female love interest. The sentiment, a sense of romantic idealism particular to love-struck teenagers, reminds me of another favorite recovered soul treasure, Bob & Gene's "I Can Be Cool," re-issued by Daptone last year. However, in this case, Mike and "D" are telling the girl that she doesn't have to pretend to be something that she's not, that if she'll just be herself Mike will build her a "castle in the sand." Much in the manner that the covers can be appreciated in their ragged glory yet potentially serve as templates for legitimate releases, when you listen to this 45 with open ears, you can imagine a "real" song brought to life from this inherently funky skeleton. In fact, I'd love to hear one of the current soul revivalist groups bring it to life (hello, Brooklyn..?). The fact that the song was listenable at all speaks to the fact that Mingering Mike might have actually had a music career under different circumstances. With some modicum of material support, some criticism and encouragement, and a lucky break or two, he could have gone from unheard to merely obscure. In the final analysis, it seems that his painful shyness was and continues to be the prevailing force in his life. Despite that fact, he is currently enjoying a limited but enthusiastic appreciation amongst the digging cognoscenti and enlightened followers of contemporary art. One has to wonder how many more imaginary stars are lurking out there, waiting to be discovered by intrepid amateur historians.
Here's his first (and hopefully not his last) musical offering:
"There's Nothing Wrong With You Baby" Mingering Mike & the Big "D"
Tommy Guerrero told me in this Wax Poetics interview that, if he had to choose, he'd rather be remembered for his music than skating. Good thing because he continues to work and record, and has since released two pretty solid projects:
Return Of The Bastard is out now on Galaxia (same label as our buddies, The Mumlers) Jet Black Crayon, Tommy's side project along with musicians Monte Valier and Gadget, is out now, entitled In The Interim.
Above is an early recording of Tommy's called, "100 Years". It's off his third LP, A Little Bit Of Somethin', on the Mo' Wax imprint. It's a pleasant recording and displays a melodic, mellow groove that would go on to typify Tommy's later work.
Our once-a-month gathering at Jack's Bar & Lounge takes place tonight. Come out for a drink and say hi. It's free, and only good jams get played.If you're on myspace, be sure to check out all Cold Chillin' news and updates here.
Cold Chillin' also got a shout out in The Metro this week, so be on the look out. See y'all soon, if not tonight. Peace.
This video is from the press kit for De La's 3 Feet High And Rising. Prince Paul looks like he's ten, Trugoy apparently likes yogurt, and the party scenes at the end are amazing.
Like our past favorite hip-hop moment , this footage has been floating around the internet for a while also. Nevertheless, the jokes, characters, sound and overall feel is totally endearing. It's another glimpse of a brilliant, bygone era. Love these guys.
