& Henry Chalfant
Grand Wizard Theodore
DJ Cue and DJ Marz
Sacramento Rap History
Lesson by X-Raided
He's The King
of The Smut... On Two Turntables: The Porn / Turntablism Connection
Part 3 DJ Relm and DJ Streak Interview
Just Whatever Rocks:
The World Famous Beat Junkies
Wax: The Porn / Turntablism Connection Part 2 D-Styles
Thriftin' For a Scratch:
The Hella Broke-Ass
Style of DJ'ing
DJ Pone Reports
from the 2002 Adult Entertainment Expo in Las Vegas
DJ Apollo Receives
"Hip Hop Slam Hall of Fame Award"
A Scratch Odyssey:
Year in Review
QBert Receives "Hip
Hop Slam Hall of Fame Award"
How to Manufacture
Your Own CD, Record, or Tape
Oakland's New Underground'
BEATS TO GO:
Filipino American DJs of the Bay Area
at the DMC American Battleground
I hate drinking beer out of a plastic cup and at five bucks
a pop Im never going to get my drink on. Welcome to
Club Townsend, this years venue for the DMC/TECHNICS 2001
Deejays from all across America and the U.S. territories converged
upon the Sucka Free City to throw down and battle it out for the
American crown. When the sonic barrage ended, it was Atlantas
DJ Klever who reigned supreme with Presyce, and Infamous rounding
out second and third place, respectively. Next month, Klever will
go on to represent the U.S. at the World Finals in London.
Overall, the battle was cool all the competitors displayed
mad skills and blah, blah, blah, etc., etc., etc but what
really blew me away was the clubs security. Those fools
had it locked down like maximum security and you weren't getting
away with shit. No cameras, no guns, no bottles, no in/out, no
loitering, no smoking, and no smoking. They repeatedly checked
pockets, hoods, hats, and cigarettes fools be trippin!
Gestapo tactics aside, San Francisco's nightlife is just starting
to revive itself after the dot.com beating and such drastic measures
are probably needed to insure the clubs survival. Either
that, or they thought a "DJ Battle" hosted by Ice-T
might erupt into cop killing violencenone of which matters
to someone like me just trying to keep a good buzz going.
How anybody can handle three hours plus of back-to-back showcase
battling without a steady intake of booze or weed is beyond me,
and judging from the sedated crowd, I dont think I was alone.
Up front by the stage, you had all the heads that were hyped for
the battle, but the rest of the club was littered with fat-neck
yuppies and anorexic glitter models awkwardly trying to get their
groove on. Even the bouncers were disgusted with the overabundance
of "Mariah Carey wannabes." Thats what happens
when you make a hip-hop event 21 and over: NO FUN. Promoters need
to realize that hip-hop is a party thing, and without the kids,
theres no inspiration.
The night did have its moments though. Rocky Rock threw down
an ill set that was funky as hell and DJ Abilitiess record
selection proved that hip-hop still has an open mind and earand
that crate digging is alive and well in this era of breakbeats.
Featured performances by Roc Raida, Total Eclipse, DJ Craze, A-Trak,
and DJ Swamp blew minds as well as equipment, and host Ice-T was
definitely the pimp of the night.
The O.G. cracked jokes and clowned just about everyone who tried
to step upincluding the deejays. His comments about A-Trak
being "the kind of [guy] who couldn't make it out of the
bathroom at a hip-hop show," and DJ Swamp as a "creepy
motherfucker that wouldnt look me in the eye" summed
up Ice-Ts dont give a fuck attitude, making him the
best host DMC ever hadespecially when compared to the garbled
gibberish that spewed from DMC founder Tony Princes mush-mouth.
In addition to gracing the stage with his pimp presence, Ice-T
also showed genuine interest and respect for all the competing
deejays and their skills.
Although there was no official DMC after-party, a very select
few were treated to an amazing performance by Irelands own
DJ Tu Ki. The Dublin deejay came correct, calling out club security,
molesting cops, and finally getting into a brawl at a nearby liquor
store while attempting to buy a single can of Guinness with the
rest of the six-pack in his jacket.