Post by social drugs on Jun 1, 2004 11:49:18 GMT 1
How A Wild Night With Wyclef Reaffirmed My Faith In Hip-Hop
05.19.2004
NEW YORK — Last week Wyclef Jean reintroduced me to hip-hop — in the form of an 18-year-old girl named Trini Don.
Go figure.
On Monday I got a call from Clef's people saying that he had a new female MC he wanted me to hear at his Platinum Sound Studio on Wednesday. True, the last female rapper Clef worked with was the incomparable Lauryn Hill (L-Boogie: Take a cue from Mase and come back! Hip-hop needs you!), but in this game you have to show and prove.
Every major artist has people they're trying to put on, and every major artist will tell you that their people are dope. Yeah, you'll get established cats like Beanie Sigel introducing incredible talents like State Property, and you'll get a superstar like 50 Cent ushering in budding superstars like the G-Unit. But you'll also get a host of flops that we'll leave nameless for this piece, since those artists never lived up to the hype and are nameless right now.
Wyclef hasn't had the best track record with his protégés. Canibus was and still is a lyrical beast, but he never lived up to his buildup. And remember Product G & B? They sang one of the biggest songs of the '90s, "Maria Maria," but never released an album.
Still, I was intrigued. After all, Clef is Clef, and more importantly, his peeps weren't really hyping this new girl he wanted me to hear. Hmmmm ...
So I hit Platinum Sound and settled into chairs alongside a couple of my MTV peeps in the tiny studio. Then in came Clef, telling a compelling story about a girl he found less than a year ago through his friend, Haitian Jack. "She's a prodigy from Brooklyn," he said before relating how the 18-year-old girl, of Trinidadian and Cuban descent, saw her father murdered when she was only 8 years old.
"No one can tell her what to say," he said. "No one can write her rhymes for her."
Then he cued up some tracks. There was one with my favorite female lyricist of the moment, Remy Martin, called "The Art of War" in which Trini raps about how wearing ice while walking around Brooklyn is the equivalent of wearing a T-shirt that says "Kill me." Whoa! Harsh, morose — but fire.
The whole room was clapping. Then Clef played a record called "The Jux" (slang for a stickup). Trini took me back to the days when I used to pump Biggie all day and night in my college dorm room (NSU, what up!). One of my favorite joints was "Gimme the Loot," on which Biggie rapped as both himself and a young accomplice, alternating between his usual deep, imposing voice and a higher-pitched one. Trini does the same thing on "The Jux," alternating her deep, imposing voice with a babylike whisper.
"Hip-hop is back," was all I could think.
Then, Wyclef brought Trini in. Judging from her husky rapping voice, I was thinking she'd look like a heavy-set ruffian, like Mysterious from the first season of MTV's "Making the Band." But Trini looks 18. Short, petite, hair pulled back. Her speaking voice doesn't sound anything like a female Biggie — in fact, it sounds more like Hooks from the "Police Academy" movie series. She was shy and barely spoke above a whisper. A tear even rolled down her cheek as everyone told her how dope she is.
Wow.
But Clef had more in store. In came 3 on 3: all brothers, sons of Muggsy Leggett from the Harlem Globetrotters, no less. There was 12-year-old Malik, 16-year-old Shawn and 18-year-old Anthony. The guys didn't give much back story, except that they're new to Clef's crew and they're from the Gun Hill section of the Bronx — a pretty tough neighborhood.
I was thinking they were going to start spitting any second — but would you believe these three hip-hoppers are singers? When Clef played their record, the dudes started lip-synching and doing dance movements like they were onstage. The song played up the fact that the trio find it hard to sing joyous R&B songs because their neighborhood is so tough.
Malik definitely looked like a little star, coming around to everybody in the studio and singing to them while he danced like a young Usher.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, retired boxing champ Lennox Lewis walked in and greeted everyone with love.
"Hey, are you gonna shake Lennox's hand after you said all that stuff about him earlier?," Clef laughed, addressing a cameraman who was documenting the evening. "What'd he say?" asked Lennox, now standing in a fighting stance, playing along with his friend's joke.
Just as it looked like the session was winding down, Lewis told Clef to play even more songs. "Who's gonna tell him no?" Wyclef chuckled. The former Fugee then broke into his best Lewis post-fight impression, holding one fist in the air, then pounding his heart. "No man a-test [him]!"
Wyclef played some more music from the boys, then cued up the first single from his own forthcoming Silent But Deadly LP, "If I Was President."
"If I was President/ Instead of spending billions on the war/ I'd take that money so I could feed the poor/ ... If I was President, I'd get elected on Friday/ Get murdered on Saturday and buried on Sunday."
"I'm straight revolutionary," Clef said. "That's my vibe."
Things went from revolutionary to battle mode when Clef started telling stories about his famous onstage battles in Jamaica. There, where many of the great reggae DJs face off onstage, clashes are serious business. Imagine a show with Jay versus Nas, Jadakiss versus 50 Cent, and Eminem versus Beanie Sigel. Some clashes have that level of competition.
A major part of clashes are dub plates, which are singles on which a DJ makes his own special mix of a track. And as Clef tells it, it's all about who you get on these dub plates, similar to a mixtape DJ securing a big name for a drop, but often more intricate than that.
"I sent Beast, my bodyguard, all the way to Africa to get Rita Marley for a dub plate, that's how serious I am with it," Clef said.
He then unleashed some of his dub plates. There was Kenny Rogers introducing himself and talking in Jamaican slang, daring any "sound boy" to test Clef. Lewis jumped out of his chair and slapped Clef five: "Wicked, man, wicked!" Next was one with Michael Jackson and Mad Cobra, which went into the instrumental of "Big Pimpin'." Then another on which Whitney Houston acknowledged that challengers were trying to step to her friend, then she started singing, "It's not right, but it's okaaaaaay!"
"Puuuullllll uuuuuuup!" Clef yelled. ("Pull up" is a signal to restart the track only a few seconds into the song). Everyone started shouting. But just as the room was reaching its peak of rowdiness ...
My phone rang and I had to leave. It was Dylan, who was ready to give an exclusive interview about being kicked out of Da Band. But that story has already been told (see "Dylan Disses Diddy, Says Da Band Are Still A Tight Crew").
—Shaheem Reid
source: mtv.com
www.mtv.com/news/articles/1487105/20040519/story.jhtml
05.19.2004
NEW YORK — Last week Wyclef Jean reintroduced me to hip-hop — in the form of an 18-year-old girl named Trini Don.
Go figure.
On Monday I got a call from Clef's people saying that he had a new female MC he wanted me to hear at his Platinum Sound Studio on Wednesday. True, the last female rapper Clef worked with was the incomparable Lauryn Hill (L-Boogie: Take a cue from Mase and come back! Hip-hop needs you!), but in this game you have to show and prove.
Every major artist has people they're trying to put on, and every major artist will tell you that their people are dope. Yeah, you'll get established cats like Beanie Sigel introducing incredible talents like State Property, and you'll get a superstar like 50 Cent ushering in budding superstars like the G-Unit. But you'll also get a host of flops that we'll leave nameless for this piece, since those artists never lived up to the hype and are nameless right now.
Wyclef hasn't had the best track record with his protégés. Canibus was and still is a lyrical beast, but he never lived up to his buildup. And remember Product G & B? They sang one of the biggest songs of the '90s, "Maria Maria," but never released an album.
Still, I was intrigued. After all, Clef is Clef, and more importantly, his peeps weren't really hyping this new girl he wanted me to hear. Hmmmm ...
So I hit Platinum Sound and settled into chairs alongside a couple of my MTV peeps in the tiny studio. Then in came Clef, telling a compelling story about a girl he found less than a year ago through his friend, Haitian Jack. "She's a prodigy from Brooklyn," he said before relating how the 18-year-old girl, of Trinidadian and Cuban descent, saw her father murdered when she was only 8 years old.
"No one can tell her what to say," he said. "No one can write her rhymes for her."
Then he cued up some tracks. There was one with my favorite female lyricist of the moment, Remy Martin, called "The Art of War" in which Trini raps about how wearing ice while walking around Brooklyn is the equivalent of wearing a T-shirt that says "Kill me." Whoa! Harsh, morose — but fire.
The whole room was clapping. Then Clef played a record called "The Jux" (slang for a stickup). Trini took me back to the days when I used to pump Biggie all day and night in my college dorm room (NSU, what up!). One of my favorite joints was "Gimme the Loot," on which Biggie rapped as both himself and a young accomplice, alternating between his usual deep, imposing voice and a higher-pitched one. Trini does the same thing on "The Jux," alternating her deep, imposing voice with a babylike whisper.
"Hip-hop is back," was all I could think.
Then, Wyclef brought Trini in. Judging from her husky rapping voice, I was thinking she'd look like a heavy-set ruffian, like Mysterious from the first season of MTV's "Making the Band." But Trini looks 18. Short, petite, hair pulled back. Her speaking voice doesn't sound anything like a female Biggie — in fact, it sounds more like Hooks from the "Police Academy" movie series. She was shy and barely spoke above a whisper. A tear even rolled down her cheek as everyone told her how dope she is.
Wow.
But Clef had more in store. In came 3 on 3: all brothers, sons of Muggsy Leggett from the Harlem Globetrotters, no less. There was 12-year-old Malik, 16-year-old Shawn and 18-year-old Anthony. The guys didn't give much back story, except that they're new to Clef's crew and they're from the Gun Hill section of the Bronx — a pretty tough neighborhood.
I was thinking they were going to start spitting any second — but would you believe these three hip-hoppers are singers? When Clef played their record, the dudes started lip-synching and doing dance movements like they were onstage. The song played up the fact that the trio find it hard to sing joyous R&B songs because their neighborhood is so tough.
Malik definitely looked like a little star, coming around to everybody in the studio and singing to them while he danced like a young Usher.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, retired boxing champ Lennox Lewis walked in and greeted everyone with love.
"Hey, are you gonna shake Lennox's hand after you said all that stuff about him earlier?," Clef laughed, addressing a cameraman who was documenting the evening. "What'd he say?" asked Lennox, now standing in a fighting stance, playing along with his friend's joke.
Just as it looked like the session was winding down, Lewis told Clef to play even more songs. "Who's gonna tell him no?" Wyclef chuckled. The former Fugee then broke into his best Lewis post-fight impression, holding one fist in the air, then pounding his heart. "No man a-test [him]!"
Wyclef played some more music from the boys, then cued up the first single from his own forthcoming Silent But Deadly LP, "If I Was President."
"If I was President/ Instead of spending billions on the war/ I'd take that money so I could feed the poor/ ... If I was President, I'd get elected on Friday/ Get murdered on Saturday and buried on Sunday."
"I'm straight revolutionary," Clef said. "That's my vibe."
Things went from revolutionary to battle mode when Clef started telling stories about his famous onstage battles in Jamaica. There, where many of the great reggae DJs face off onstage, clashes are serious business. Imagine a show with Jay versus Nas, Jadakiss versus 50 Cent, and Eminem versus Beanie Sigel. Some clashes have that level of competition.
A major part of clashes are dub plates, which are singles on which a DJ makes his own special mix of a track. And as Clef tells it, it's all about who you get on these dub plates, similar to a mixtape DJ securing a big name for a drop, but often more intricate than that.
"I sent Beast, my bodyguard, all the way to Africa to get Rita Marley for a dub plate, that's how serious I am with it," Clef said.
He then unleashed some of his dub plates. There was Kenny Rogers introducing himself and talking in Jamaican slang, daring any "sound boy" to test Clef. Lewis jumped out of his chair and slapped Clef five: "Wicked, man, wicked!" Next was one with Michael Jackson and Mad Cobra, which went into the instrumental of "Big Pimpin'." Then another on which Whitney Houston acknowledged that challengers were trying to step to her friend, then she started singing, "It's not right, but it's okaaaaaay!"
"Puuuullllll uuuuuuup!" Clef yelled. ("Pull up" is a signal to restart the track only a few seconds into the song). Everyone started shouting. But just as the room was reaching its peak of rowdiness ...
My phone rang and I had to leave. It was Dylan, who was ready to give an exclusive interview about being kicked out of Da Band. But that story has already been told (see "Dylan Disses Diddy, Says Da Band Are Still A Tight Crew").
—Shaheem Reid
source: mtv.com
www.mtv.com/news/articles/1487105/20040519/story.jhtml