While trying to track down info on a record that I’m hooked on, Cosiner’s Bittersuites (scant info on this guy), I came across fellow Oaklander, Shing02. The two collaborated on the album 400: Cosiner as producer, Shing02 as MC. Unfortunately, none of those tracks are available as MP3s. What is available is sampling of Shing02’s work across the past several years. Born in Tokyo and raised in Tanzania, England, and Japan, Shing02 ended up in Oakland via Berkeley in the early ’90s immersing himself in its, now world-famous, hip hop scene. Bouncing easily back and forth across the Pacific Ocean, Shing02 is building a steady arsenal of recordings and armies of followers, spreading peace and respect rhyme by rhyme.
Percee P
The Rhyme Inspector Percee P!! I can’t think of another living rap artist to build such a massive rep on just a handful of solo tracks. Fortunately, he’s always down for a collaboration, such as this percussion-crazy track with Four Tet. He’s also allegedly working on a solo album (produced by Madlib!) due out…well, it was summer of 2005. So the single “Put It on the Line” on Stones Throw on Wax may have to last you a while.
DJ Format
Today is my birthday. And, as Birthday Boy, I command anybody with a funky and/or funny bone in his or her body — nay, anybody with ANY kinda bone in his or her body — to listen to the UK’s finest, DJ Format, and his Canadian pals Abdominal and D-Sisive. At least once. Then you must watch the video. Then this one. Then you must buy Format’s two fine albums: If You Can’t Join ’em, Beat ’em and Music for the Mature B-Boy (I know they’re imports…just trust me). Then, and only then, you can have a slice of birthday cake. Birthday Boy has spoken.
Ninja High School
Continuing with our goof-hop weekend here at the Hive, ladies and gentlemen…introducing Ninja High School. Self-proclaimed “positive hardcore dance rap,” Toronto-based NHS go out of their way to avoid hip-hop clichés pulling from post-structuralist theory and art criticism. Sure it sounds heady, but Ninja High School’s got mad skillz at breaking down grandiose ideas into catchy, party-perfect, sing-along choruses. It’s up to you whether or not you tap your local lit department for your next Barthes party.
Danger Doom
Danger Mouse, MF Doom, and [adult swim] — arguably the dopest producer, MC, and television block of irreverent cartoon programming out there — joined forces to create the ultimate theme album. Now, not all dream teams play out as well in real life as they do on paper (sorry, Yankees fans), but this one lives up to its full potential. [adult swim] players pop in and out of the album’s loose narrative while Doom and DM take their goading, goofing, and gabbing in stride. And what an ill stride it is…
The Chicharones
The Chicharones — the Vancouver, B.C.-based duo of Josh Martinez and Sleep of Oldominion — are the self-proclaimed Simon and Garfunkel of rap. I can’t really argue with that description. This joint feels like that broken-in Stussy hoodie I just found at the bottom of my drawer: familiar and frrrrresh!
MC Frontalot
Emmett’s been on my back to post MC Frontalot, the self-proclaimed “world’s 579th greatest rapper.” I’ve been putting off Frontalot for two reasons: 1) he’s got A LOT of songs to choose from, all available for free download, and 2) I can’t tell if he’s for real, or if this is all just a way for some Cal Tech computer science Ph.D. candidate to let off some steam. Regarding the latter, the obvious next question is, “Does it even matter if he’s legit?” At least I’ve come to a decisive “Hell no” answer to that one. So here’s the nerdcore hip hop, ten songs worth. When you’re done laughing at the silliness you get here, go ahead and download the other 52 songs available at www.frontalot.com. Or, you could buy his record, I suppose.
Blackalicious
More like Sickalicious! The world would be a sorry place without Xcel at the board building timeless beats, and Gab, schooling us with his warm rhymes on how things are and how they ought to be: namely, one world, one people, grooving together to their finely-honed craft. Sure it’s been a long three years since their last album, but cut ’em some slack, they’ve been punching the clock after hours working on Maroons, Gab’s solo record, and introducing the world to the likes of Apsci, Curumin, and General Elektriks.
Run DMC
Almost three years ago, Run DMC lost their “one-man band” Jam Master Jay to a fatal shooting in Queens. In his memory, I’m posting one of the remixes available on the recently reissued Run DMC catalog and sharing my first memory of Run DMC… It all began in Mr. Beasley’s music class, sixth grade. Realizing that we weren’t about to get our song books out and sing “Kookaburra” anymore, Mr. Beasley started taping “MV-60,” an early MTV-like music video show, and playing it in class. Among the other videos that left an impression — Yaz’s “Don’t Go,” Herbie Hancock’s “Rockit,” Art of Noise’s “Close to the Edit” — was Run DMC’s “Rock Box.” Mr. B also let students bring in their own records once a week, which is how I heard that first DMC record. It was so raw and real from end to end. By contrast, Sugarhill Gang was disco and Run DMC was rap. Thanks to Run DMC, my ears we ready for Big Daddy Kane, Eric B and Rakim, Public Enemy, among others. Come to think of it, thanks to Mr. Beasley as well: you were a good music teacher.
Cypress Hill
Cypress…Cypress Hill! So massively appealing, like the gangstas you’d take home to meet mom, yet there ain’t no love songs up in here (unless you count “I Love You Mary Jane”). What’s their secret? Those hypnotic DJ Muggs loops don’t hurt, but I think it’s all in B Real’s delivery. His nasal, sing-song flow allows for the possibility that maybe he’s just funnin’…about “comin’ to gat ya,†at least. All I know is, back in college, whenever I dropped “Hand on the Pump” for a party full of mostly white, mostly middle-class, mostly Mormon undergrads, the room went bananas. So yeah, I’ve included just a handful of the 100+ MP3s of remixes, side projects, collabos, and rarities B Real has made available for free on his personal site (now here is something Sony can’t understand…). Bless him. Bless us, every one. (Especially you, Tofu Hut!)