window.__IS_SSR__=true
window.__INITIAL_STATE__={
"attachmentsReducer": {
"audio_0": {
"type": "attachments",
"id": "audio_0",
"imgSizes": {
"kqedFullSize": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/news/wp-content/themes/KQED-unified/img/audio_bgs/background0.jpg"
}
}
},
"audio_1": {
"type": "attachments",
"id": "audio_1",
"imgSizes": {
"kqedFullSize": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/news/wp-content/themes/KQED-unified/img/audio_bgs/background1.jpg"
}
}
},
"audio_2": {
"type": "attachments",
"id": "audio_2",
"imgSizes": {
"kqedFullSize": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/news/wp-content/themes/KQED-unified/img/audio_bgs/background2.jpg"
}
}
},
"audio_3": {
"type": "attachments",
"id": "audio_3",
"imgSizes": {
"kqedFullSize": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/news/wp-content/themes/KQED-unified/img/audio_bgs/background3.jpg"
}
}
},
"audio_4": {
"type": "attachments",
"id": "audio_4",
"imgSizes": {
"kqedFullSize": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/news/wp-content/themes/KQED-unified/img/audio_bgs/background4.jpg"
}
}
},
"placeholder": {
"type": "attachments",
"id": "placeholder",
"imgSizes": {
"thumbnail": {
"file": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/12/KQED-Default-Image-816638274-2000x1333-1-160x107.jpg",
"width": 160,
"height": 107,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg"
},
"medium": {
"file": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/12/KQED-Default-Image-816638274-2000x1333-1-800x533.jpg",
"width": 800,
"height": 533,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg"
},
"medium_large": {
"file": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/12/KQED-Default-Image-816638274-2000x1333-1-768x512.jpg",
"width": 768,
"height": 512,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg"
},
"large": {
"file": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/12/KQED-Default-Image-816638274-2000x1333-1-1020x680.jpg",
"width": 1020,
"height": 680,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg"
},
"1536x1536": {
"file": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/12/KQED-Default-Image-816638274-2000x1333-1-1536x1024.jpg",
"width": 1536,
"height": 1024,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg"
},
"fd-lrg": {
"file": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/12/KQED-Default-Image-816638274-2000x1333-1-1536x1024.jpg",
"width": 1536,
"height": 1024,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg"
},
"fd-med": {
"file": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/12/KQED-Default-Image-816638274-2000x1333-1-1020x680.jpg",
"width": 1020,
"height": 680,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg"
},
"fd-sm": {
"file": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/12/KQED-Default-Image-816638274-2000x1333-1-800x533.jpg",
"width": 800,
"height": 533,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg"
},
"post-thumbnail": {
"file": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/12/KQED-Default-Image-816638274-2000x1333-1-672x372.jpg",
"width": 672,
"height": 372,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg"
},
"twentyfourteen-full-width": {
"file": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/12/KQED-Default-Image-816638274-2000x1333-1-1038x576.jpg",
"width": 1038,
"height": 576,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg"
},
"xxsmall": {
"file": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/12/KQED-Default-Image-816638274-2000x1333-1-160x107.jpg",
"width": 160,
"height": 107,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg"
},
"xsmall": {
"file": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/12/KQED-Default-Image-816638274-2000x1333-1-672x372.jpg",
"width": 672,
"height": 372,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg"
},
"small": {
"file": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/12/KQED-Default-Image-816638274-2000x1333-1-672x372.jpg",
"width": 672,
"height": 372,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg"
},
"xlarge": {
"file": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/12/KQED-Default-Image-816638274-2000x1333-1-1020x680.jpg",
"width": 1020,
"height": 680,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg"
},
"full-width": {
"file": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/12/KQED-Default-Image-816638274-2000x1333-1-1920x1280.jpg",
"width": 1920,
"height": 1280,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg"
},
"guest-author-32": {
"file": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2025/01/KQED-Default-Image-816638274-1333x1333-1-160x160.jpg",
"width": 32,
"height": 32,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg"
},
"guest-author-50": {
"file": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2025/01/KQED-Default-Image-816638274-1333x1333-1-160x160.jpg",
"width": 50,
"height": 50,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg"
},
"guest-author-64": {
"file": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2025/01/KQED-Default-Image-816638274-1333x1333-1-160x160.jpg",
"width": 64,
"height": 64,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg"
},
"guest-author-96": {
"file": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2025/01/KQED-Default-Image-816638274-1333x1333-1-160x160.jpg",
"width": 96,
"height": 96,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg"
},
"guest-author-128": {
"file": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2025/01/KQED-Default-Image-816638274-1333x1333-1-160x160.jpg",
"width": 128,
"height": 128,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg"
},
"detail": {
"file": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2025/01/KQED-Default-Image-816638274-1333x1333-1-160x160.jpg",
"width": 160,
"height": 160,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg"
},
"kqedFullSize": {
"file": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/12/KQED-Default-Image-816638274-2000x1333-1.jpg",
"width": 2000,
"height": 1333
}
}
},
"arts_13329186": {
"type": "attachments",
"id": "arts_13329186",
"meta": {
"index": "attachments_1716263798",
"site": "arts",
"id": "13329186",
"found": true
},
"parent": 13329185,
"imgSizes": {
"small": {
"file": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/05/BottleRock.BlackThought.Roo_-520x293.jpg",
"width": 520,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg",
"height": 293
},
"twentyfourteen-full-width": {
"file": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/05/BottleRock.BlackThought.Roo_-1038x576.jpg",
"width": 1038,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg",
"height": 576
},
"thumbnail": {
"file": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/05/BottleRock.BlackThought.Roo_-160x90.jpg",
"width": 160,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg",
"height": 90
},
"fd-sm": {
"file": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/05/BottleRock.BlackThought.Roo_-960x540.jpg",
"width": 960,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg",
"height": 540
},
"post-thumbnail": {
"file": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/05/BottleRock.BlackThought.Roo_-672x372.jpg",
"width": 672,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg",
"height": 372
},
"xsmall": {
"file": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/05/BottleRock.BlackThought.Roo_-375x211.jpg",
"width": 375,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg",
"height": 211
},
"kqedFullSize": {
"file": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/05/BottleRock.BlackThought.Roo_.jpg",
"width": 1920,
"height": 1080
},
"large": {
"file": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/05/BottleRock.BlackThought.Roo_-1020x574.jpg",
"width": 1020,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg",
"height": 574
},
"xlarge": {
"file": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/05/BottleRock.BlackThought.Roo_-1180x664.jpg",
"width": 1180,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg",
"height": 664
},
"guest-author-50": {
"file": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/05/BottleRock.BlackThought.Roo_-50x50.jpg",
"width": 50,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg",
"height": 50
},
"guest-author-96": {
"file": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/05/BottleRock.BlackThought.Roo_-96x96.jpg",
"width": 96,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg",
"height": 96
},
"medium": {
"file": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/05/BottleRock.BlackThought.Roo_-800x450.jpg",
"width": 800,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg",
"height": 450
},
"guest-author-64": {
"file": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/05/BottleRock.BlackThought.Roo_-64x64.jpg",
"width": 64,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg",
"height": 64
},
"guest-author-32": {
"file": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/05/BottleRock.BlackThought.Roo_-32x32.jpg",
"width": 32,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg",
"height": 32
},
"fd-lrg": {
"file": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/05/BottleRock.BlackThought.Roo_-1920x1080.jpg",
"width": 1920,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg",
"height": 1080
},
"fd-med": {
"file": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/05/BottleRock.BlackThought.Roo_-1180x664.jpg",
"width": 1180,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg",
"height": 664
},
"full-width": {
"file": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/05/BottleRock.BlackThought.Roo_-1920x1080.jpg",
"width": 1920,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg",
"height": 1080
},
"detail": {
"file": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/05/BottleRock.BlackThought.Roo_-150x150.jpg",
"width": 150,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg",
"height": 150
},
"medium_large": {
"file": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/05/BottleRock.BlackThought.Roo_-768x432.jpg",
"width": 768,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg",
"height": 432
},
"guest-author-128": {
"file": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/05/BottleRock.BlackThought.Roo_-128x128.jpg",
"width": 128,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg",
"height": 128
},
"xxsmall": {
"file": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/05/BottleRock.BlackThought.Roo_-240x135.jpg",
"width": 240,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg",
"height": 135
}
},
"publishDate": 1496074356,
"modified": 1702015408,
"caption": "Black Thought of the Roots performs at the BottleRock music festival in Napa, May 28, 2017.",
"description": "Black Thought of the Roots performs at BottleRock in Napa, May 28, 2017.",
"title": "BottleRock.BlackThought.Roo",
"credit": "Estefany Gonzalez for KQED",
"status": "inherit",
"altTag": "Black Thought of the Roots performs at BottleRock in Napa, May 28, 2017.",
"isLoading": false,
"fetchFailed": false
},
"arts_13936796": {
"type": "attachments",
"id": "arts_13936796",
"meta": {
"index": "attachments_1716263798",
"site": "arts",
"id": "13936796",
"found": true
},
"parent": 0,
"imgSizes": {
"twentyfourteen-full-width": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-81-MV-KQED-1038x576.jpg",
"width": 1038,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg",
"height": 576
},
"thumbnail": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-81-MV-KQED-160x107.jpg",
"width": 160,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg",
"height": 107
},
"post-thumbnail": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-81-MV-KQED-672x372.jpg",
"width": 672,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg",
"height": 372
},
"kqedFullSize": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-81-MV-KQED.jpg",
"width": 2000,
"height": 1334
},
"large": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-81-MV-KQED-1020x680.jpg",
"width": 1020,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg",
"height": 680
},
"1536x1536": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-81-MV-KQED-1536x1025.jpg",
"width": 1536,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg",
"height": 1025
},
"full-width": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-81-MV-KQED-1920x1281.jpg",
"width": 1920,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg",
"height": 1281
},
"medium": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-81-MV-KQED-800x534.jpg",
"width": 800,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg",
"height": 534
},
"medium_large": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-81-MV-KQED-768x512.jpg",
"width": 768,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg",
"height": 512
}
},
"publishDate": 1697932089,
"modified": 1697938112,
"caption": "Earl 'E-40' Stevens stands for a portrait outside his childhood home in Magazine Street, aka E-40 Way, after the honorary ceremony on Oct. 21, 2023 in Vallejo, Solano County.",
"description": null,
"title": "E-40-81-MV-KQED",
"credit": "Michaela Vatcheva for KQED",
"status": "inherit",
"altTag": "An African American man holds a sign up that says \"E-40 Way.\"",
"isLoading": false,
"fetchFailed": false
},
"arts_13927313": {
"type": "attachments",
"id": "arts_13927313",
"meta": {
"index": "attachments_1716263798",
"site": "arts",
"id": "13927313",
"found": true
},
"parent": 13927349,
"imgSizes": {
"twentyfourteen-full-width": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/GettyImages-1206295164-1024x576.jpg",
"width": 1024,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg",
"height": 576
},
"thumbnail": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/GettyImages-1206295164-160x97.jpg",
"width": 160,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg",
"height": 97
},
"post-thumbnail": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/GettyImages-1206295164-672x372.jpg",
"width": 672,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg",
"height": 372
},
"kqedFullSize": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/GettyImages-1206295164.jpg",
"width": 1024,
"height": 620
},
"large": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/GettyImages-1206295164-1020x618.jpg",
"width": 1020,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg",
"height": 618
},
"medium": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/GettyImages-1206295164-800x484.jpg",
"width": 800,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg",
"height": 484
},
"medium_large": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/GettyImages-1206295164-768x465.jpg",
"width": 768,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg",
"height": 465
}
},
"publishDate": 1680644608,
"modified": 1695839297,
"caption": "Too Short, pictured at his manager's house in Oakland on September 21, 1987.",
"description": null,
"title": "Rapper Too Short, aka Todd Shaw at his manager's house in Oakland.",
"credit": "Steve Ringman/San Francisco Chronicle via Getty Images",
"status": "inherit",
"altTag": "A young Too Short poses on top of a car in a black-and-white photo.",
"isLoading": false,
"fetchFailed": false
},
"arts_13935132": {
"type": "attachments",
"id": "arts_13935132",
"meta": {
"index": "attachments_1716263798",
"site": "arts",
"id": "13935132",
"found": true
},
"parent": 13934874,
"imgSizes": {
"twentyfourteen-full-width": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/09/HKGT.16x9-1038x576.jpg",
"width": 1038,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg",
"height": 576
},
"thumbnail": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/09/HKGT.16x9-160x90.jpg",
"width": 160,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg",
"height": 90
},
"post-thumbnail": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/09/HKGT.16x9-672x372.jpg",
"width": 672,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg",
"height": 372
},
"kqedFullSize": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/09/HKGT.16x9-scaled.jpg",
"width": 2560,
"height": 1440
},
"2048x2048": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/09/HKGT.16x9-2048x1152.jpg",
"width": 2048,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg",
"height": 1152
},
"large": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/09/HKGT.16x9-1020x574.jpg",
"width": 1020,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg",
"height": 574
},
"1536x1536": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/09/HKGT.16x9-1536x864.jpg",
"width": 1536,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg",
"height": 864
},
"full-width": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/09/HKGT.16x9-1920x1080.jpg",
"width": 1920,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg",
"height": 1080
},
"medium": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/09/HKGT.16x9-800x450.jpg",
"width": 800,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg",
"height": 450
},
"medium_large": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/09/HKGT.16x9-768x432.jpg",
"width": 768,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg",
"height": 432
}
},
"publishDate": 1695251125,
"modified": 1695251186,
"caption": null,
"description": "Hyphy Kids Got Trauma, the podcast series from Rightnowish.",
"title": "HKGT.16x9",
"credit": null,
"status": "inherit",
"altTag": "The words Rightnowish Presents Hyphy Kids Got Trauma are airbrushed on a white t-shirt over a yellow background.",
"isLoading": false,
"fetchFailed": false
},
"arts_13932763": {
"type": "attachments",
"id": "arts_13932763",
"meta": {
"index": "attachments_1716263798",
"site": "arts",
"id": "13932763",
"found": true
},
"parent": 13932753,
"imgSizes": {
"twentyfourteen-full-width": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/Screen-Shot-2023-08-07-at-3.44.19-PM-1038x576.png",
"width": 1038,
"mimeType": "image/png",
"height": 576
},
"thumbnail": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/Screen-Shot-2023-08-07-at-3.44.19-PM-160x103.png",
"width": 160,
"mimeType": "image/png",
"height": 103
},
"post-thumbnail": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/Screen-Shot-2023-08-07-at-3.44.19-PM-672x372.png",
"width": 672,
"mimeType": "image/png",
"height": 372
},
"kqedFullSize": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/Screen-Shot-2023-08-07-at-3.44.19-PM.png",
"width": 1808,
"height": 1164
},
"large": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/Screen-Shot-2023-08-07-at-3.44.19-PM-1020x657.png",
"width": 1020,
"mimeType": "image/png",
"height": 657
},
"1536x1536": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/Screen-Shot-2023-08-07-at-3.44.19-PM-1536x989.png",
"width": 1536,
"mimeType": "image/png",
"height": 989
},
"medium": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/Screen-Shot-2023-08-07-at-3.44.19-PM-800x515.png",
"width": 800,
"mimeType": "image/png",
"height": 515
},
"medium_large": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/Screen-Shot-2023-08-07-at-3.44.19-PM-768x494.png",
"width": 768,
"mimeType": "image/png",
"height": 494
}
},
"publishDate": 1691448288,
"modified": 1691448498,
"caption": "Rap pioneers, The Sugar Hill Gang (L-R: Big Bank Hank, Wonder Mike and Master G) in all of their 1979 glory.",
"description": null,
"title": "Rap pioneers, The Sugar Hill Gang (L-R: Big Bank Hank, Wonder Mike and Master G) in all of their 1979 glory.",
"credit": "Michael Ochs Archives/ Getty Images",
"status": "inherit",
"altTag": "Three Black men stand together smiling. The first wears an Adidas jacket and a peasant hat, the second wears a sports jacket, open shirt and gold necklace, the third is wearing a sweater.",
"isLoading": false,
"fetchFailed": false
},
"arts_13931358": {
"type": "attachments",
"id": "arts_13931358",
"meta": {
"index": "attachments_1716263798",
"site": "arts",
"id": "13931358",
"found": true
},
"parent": 13931355,
"imgSizes": {
"twentyfourteen-full-width": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/07/michaelsneed_JY_014-1038x576.jpg",
"width": 1038,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg",
"height": 576
},
"thumbnail": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/07/michaelsneed_JY_014-160x107.jpg",
"width": 160,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg",
"height": 107
},
"post-thumbnail": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/07/michaelsneed_JY_014-672x372.jpg",
"width": 672,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg",
"height": 372
},
"kqedFullSize": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/07/michaelsneed_JY_014-scaled.jpg",
"width": 2560,
"height": 1706
},
"2048x2048": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/07/michaelsneed_JY_014-2048x1365.jpg",
"width": 2048,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg",
"height": 1365
},
"large": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/07/michaelsneed_JY_014-1020x680.jpg",
"width": 1020,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg",
"height": 680
},
"1536x1536": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/07/michaelsneed_JY_014-1536x1024.jpg",
"width": 1536,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg",
"height": 1024
},
"full-width": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/07/michaelsneed_JY_014-1920x1280.jpg",
"width": 1920,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg",
"height": 1280
},
"medium": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/07/michaelsneed_JY_014-800x533.jpg",
"width": 800,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg",
"height": 533
},
"medium_large": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/07/michaelsneed_JY_014-768x512.jpg",
"width": 768,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg",
"height": 512
}
},
"publishDate": 1688759712,
"modified": 1689114508,
"caption": "Bay Area rapper Michael Sneed poses for a portrait in Oakland on June 9, 2023.",
"description": null,
"title": "michaelsneed_JY_014",
"credit": "Juliana Yamada",
"status": "inherit",
"altTag": "The facial profile of a young Oakland rapper as he looks away from the camera",
"isLoading": false,
"fetchFailed": false
},
"arts_13930890": {
"type": "attachments",
"id": "arts_13930890",
"meta": {
"index": "attachments_1716263798",
"site": "arts",
"id": "13930890",
"found": true
},
"parent": 13930886,
"imgSizes": {
"twentyfourteen-full-width": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/06/Episode-1-—-Wordpress-Thumbnail-1038x576.png",
"width": 1038,
"mimeType": "image/png",
"height": 576
},
"thumbnail": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/06/Episode-1-—-Wordpress-Thumbnail-160x160.png",
"width": 160,
"mimeType": "image/png",
"height": 160
},
"post-thumbnail": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/06/Episode-1-—-Wordpress-Thumbnail-672x372.png",
"width": 672,
"mimeType": "image/png",
"height": 372
},
"kqedFullSize": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/06/Episode-1-—-Wordpress-Thumbnail.png",
"width": 1080,
"height": 1080
},
"large": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/06/Episode-1-—-Wordpress-Thumbnail-1020x1020.png",
"width": 1020,
"mimeType": "image/png",
"height": 1020
},
"medium": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/06/Episode-1-—-Wordpress-Thumbnail-800x800.png",
"width": 800,
"mimeType": "image/png",
"height": 800
},
"medium_large": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/06/Episode-1-—-Wordpress-Thumbnail-768x768.png",
"width": 768,
"mimeType": "image/png",
"height": 768
}
},
"publishDate": 1687557363,
"modified": 1687557519,
"caption": "Maddy Clifford, RyanNicole and Coco Peila lead necessary conversations about hip-hop and misogynoir in our new vodcast, 'What's Pimpin'?'",
"description": null,
"title": "Episode 1 — Wordpress Thumbnail",
"credit": "Photo: DIFF WORKS LLC, illustration: Becca Kao",
"status": "inherit",
"altTag": "Three Black women in colorful clothing sit in front of microphones while laughing.",
"isLoading": false,
"fetchFailed": false
},
"arts_13930892": {
"type": "attachments",
"id": "arts_13930892",
"meta": {
"index": "attachments_1716263798",
"site": "arts",
"id": "13930892",
"found": true
},
"parent": 13930886,
"imgSizes": {
"twentyfourteen-full-width": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/06/Episode-1-—-Wordpress-Thumbnail-1-1038x576.png",
"width": 1038,
"mimeType": "image/png",
"height": 576
},
"thumbnail": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/06/Episode-1-—-Wordpress-Thumbnail-1-160x90.png",
"width": 160,
"mimeType": "image/png",
"height": 90
},
"post-thumbnail": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/06/Episode-1-—-Wordpress-Thumbnail-1-672x372.png",
"width": 672,
"mimeType": "image/png",
"height": 372
},
"kqedFullSize": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/06/Episode-1-—-Wordpress-Thumbnail-1.png",
"width": 1920,
"height": 1080
},
"large": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/06/Episode-1-—-Wordpress-Thumbnail-1-1020x574.png",
"width": 1020,
"mimeType": "image/png",
"height": 574
},
"1536x1536": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/06/Episode-1-—-Wordpress-Thumbnail-1-1536x864.png",
"width": 1536,
"mimeType": "image/png",
"height": 864
},
"medium": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/06/Episode-1-—-Wordpress-Thumbnail-1-800x450.png",
"width": 800,
"mimeType": "image/png",
"height": 450
},
"medium_large": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/06/Episode-1-—-Wordpress-Thumbnail-1-768x432.png",
"width": 768,
"mimeType": "image/png",
"height": 432
}
},
"publishDate": 1687557651,
"modified": 1687557679,
"caption": "Maddy Clifford, RyanNicole and Coco Peila lead necessary conversations about hip-hop and misogynoir in our new vodcast, 'What's Pimpin'?'",
"description": null,
"title": "Episode 1 — Wordpress Thumbnail (1)",
"credit": "Photo: DIFF WORKS LLC, illustration: Becca Kao",
"status": "inherit",
"altTag": "Three Black women in colorful clothing sit in front of microphones while laughing.",
"isLoading": false,
"fetchFailed": false
},
"arts_13930915": {
"type": "attachments",
"id": "arts_13930915",
"meta": {
"index": "attachments_1716263798",
"site": "arts",
"id": "13930915",
"found": true
},
"parent": 13930908,
"imgSizes": {
"twentyfourteen-full-width": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/06/GettyImages-1502130231-scaled-e1687808335341-1038x576.jpg",
"width": 1038,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg",
"height": 576
},
"thumbnail": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/06/GettyImages-1502130231-scaled-e1687808335341-160x118.jpg",
"width": 160,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg",
"height": 118
},
"post-thumbnail": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/06/GettyImages-1502130231-scaled-e1687808335341-672x372.jpg",
"width": 672,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg",
"height": 372
},
"kqedFullSize": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/06/GettyImages-1502130231-scaled-e1687808335341.jpg",
"width": 1920,
"height": 1415
},
"2048x2048": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/06/GettyImages-1502130231-2048x1508.jpg",
"width": 2048,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg",
"height": 1508
},
"large": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/06/GettyImages-1502130231-scaled-e1687808335341-1020x752.jpg",
"width": 1020,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg",
"height": 752
},
"1536x1536": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/06/GettyImages-1502130231-scaled-e1687808335341-1536x1132.jpg",
"width": 1536,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg",
"height": 1132
},
"full-width": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/06/GettyImages-1502130231-1920x1414.jpg",
"width": 1920,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg",
"height": 1414
},
"medium": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/06/GettyImages-1502130231-scaled-e1687808335341-800x590.jpg",
"width": 800,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg",
"height": 590
},
"medium_large": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/06/GettyImages-1502130231-scaled-e1687808335341-768x566.jpg",
"width": 768,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg",
"height": 566
}
},
"publishDate": 1687808297,
"modified": 1687808509,
"caption": "Sean Combs' son King Combs performs onstage during the BET Awards in Los Angeles, June 25, 2023.",
"description": null,
"title": "Sean Combs' son King Combs performs onstage during the BET Awards in Los Angeles, June 25, 2023.",
"credit": "Paras Griffin/Getty Images for BET",
"status": "inherit",
"altTag": "A young Black man waves onstage while smiling broadly. Behind him are five dancers clapping and smiling.",
"isLoading": false,
"fetchFailed": false
},
"arts_13929874": {
"type": "attachments",
"id": "arts_13929874",
"meta": {
"index": "attachments_1716263798",
"site": "arts",
"id": "13929874",
"found": true
},
"parent": 13929861,
"imgSizes": {
"twentyfourteen-full-width": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/05/Latyrx.Square.fin_-1038x576.jpg",
"width": 1038,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg",
"height": 576
},
"thumbnail": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/05/Latyrx.Square.fin_-160x160.jpg",
"width": 160,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg",
"height": 160
},
"post-thumbnail": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/05/Latyrx.Square.fin_-672x372.jpg",
"width": 672,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg",
"height": 372
},
"kqedFullSize": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/05/Latyrx.Square.fin_.jpg",
"width": 1920,
"height": 1920
},
"large": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/05/Latyrx.Square.fin_-1020x1020.jpg",
"width": 1020,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg",
"height": 1020
},
"1536x1536": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/05/Latyrx.Square.fin_-1536x1536.jpg",
"width": 1536,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg",
"height": 1536
},
"medium": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/05/Latyrx.Square.fin_-800x800.jpg",
"width": 800,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg",
"height": 800
},
"medium_large": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/05/Latyrx.Square.fin_-768x768.jpg",
"width": 768,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg",
"height": 768
}
},
"publishDate": 1685547787,
"modified": 1685547826,
"caption": "Lateef the Truthspeaker and Lyrics Born (L–R) interviewed at KQED on April 29, 2023.",
"description": null,
"title": "Latyrx.Square.fin",
"credit": "Alain McLaughlin",
"status": "inherit",
"altTag": "Two men in streetwear sit on a green couch, holding microphones",
"isLoading": false,
"fetchFailed": false
},
"arts_13927364": {
"type": "attachments",
"id": "arts_13927364",
"meta": {
"index": "attachments_1716263798",
"site": "arts",
"id": "13927364",
"found": true
},
"parent": 13927349,
"imgSizes": {
"twentyfourteen-full-width": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/photo-forward_____separate_logos__2_-1038x576.png",
"width": 1038,
"mimeType": "image/png",
"height": 576
},
"thumbnail": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/photo-forward_____separate_logos__2_-160x160.png",
"width": 160,
"mimeType": "image/png",
"height": 160
},
"post-thumbnail": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/photo-forward_____separate_logos__2_-672x372.png",
"width": 672,
"mimeType": "image/png",
"height": 372
},
"kqedFullSize": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/photo-forward_____separate_logos__2_.png",
"width": 1080,
"height": 1080
},
"large": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/photo-forward_____separate_logos__2_-1020x1020.png",
"width": 1020,
"mimeType": "image/png",
"height": 1020
},
"medium": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/photo-forward_____separate_logos__2_-800x800.png",
"width": 800,
"mimeType": "image/png",
"height": 800
},
"medium_large": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/photo-forward_____separate_logos__2_-768x768.png",
"width": 768,
"mimeType": "image/png",
"height": 768
}
},
"publishDate": 1680663395,
"modified": 1680663902,
"caption": "In the 1980s, Bay Area hip-hop hadn't yet coalesced into an identifiable regional sound. After years of street dance, DJing and graffiti sharing equal space in hip-hop, however, rapping took over, and the Bay Area's bass-heavy trademark would arrive at the end of the decade. (Clockwise from top left: Too Short, MC Hammer, Dominique DiPrima, Club Nouveau, and Motorcycle Mike.)",
"description": null,
"title": "photo-forward_____separate_logos__2_",
"credit": "Steve Ringman/San Francisco Chronicle via Getty Images; Al Pereira/Michael Ochs Archives/Getty Images; SFSU Television Archives; Raymond Boyd/Getty Images; Hodisk Records",
"status": "inherit",
"altTag": null,
"isLoading": false,
"fetchFailed": false
},
"arts_13927363": {
"type": "attachments",
"id": "arts_13927363",
"meta": {
"index": "attachments_1716263798",
"site": "arts",
"id": "13927363",
"found": true
},
"parent": 13927349,
"imgSizes": {
"twentyfourteen-full-width": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/that_s_my_word_____featured_image__3_-1038x576.png",
"width": 1038,
"mimeType": "image/png",
"height": 576
},
"thumbnail": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/that_s_my_word_____featured_image__3_-160x90.png",
"width": 160,
"mimeType": "image/png",
"height": 90
},
"post-thumbnail": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/that_s_my_word_____featured_image__3_-672x372.png",
"width": 672,
"mimeType": "image/png",
"height": 372
},
"kqedFullSize": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/that_s_my_word_____featured_image__3_.png",
"width": 1920,
"height": 1080
},
"large": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/that_s_my_word_____featured_image__3_-1020x574.png",
"width": 1020,
"mimeType": "image/png",
"height": 574
},
"1536x1536": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/that_s_my_word_____featured_image__3_-1536x864.png",
"width": 1536,
"mimeType": "image/png",
"height": 864
},
"medium": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/that_s_my_word_____featured_image__3_-800x450.png",
"width": 800,
"mimeType": "image/png",
"height": 450
},
"medium_large": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/that_s_my_word_____featured_image__3_-768x432.png",
"width": 768,
"mimeType": "image/png",
"height": 432
}
},
"publishDate": 1680663386,
"modified": 1680663880,
"caption": "In the 1980s, Bay Area hip-hop hadn't yet coalesced into an identifiable regional sound. After years of street dance, DJing and graffiti sharing equal space in hip-hop, however, rapping took over, and the Bay Area's bass-heavy trademark would arrive at the end of the decade. (Clockwise from top left: Too Short, MC Hammer, Dominique DiPrima, Club Nouveau, and Motorcycle Mike.)",
"description": null,
"title": "that_s_my_word_____featured_image__3_",
"credit": "Steve Ringman/San Francisco Chronicle via Getty Images; Al Pereira/Michael Ochs Archives/Getty Images; SFSU Television Archives; Raymond Boyd/Getty Images; Hodisk Records",
"status": "inherit",
"altTag": null,
"isLoading": false,
"fetchFailed": false
},
"arts_13926019": {
"type": "attachments",
"id": "arts_13926019",
"meta": {
"index": "attachments_1716263798",
"site": "arts",
"id": "13926019",
"found": true
},
"parent": 13925958,
"imgSizes": {
"twentyfourteen-full-width": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/03/Thats-My-Word-—-Square-1038x576.jpg",
"width": 1038,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg",
"height": 576
},
"thumbnail": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/03/Thats-My-Word-—-Square-160x160.jpg",
"width": 160,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg",
"height": 160
},
"post-thumbnail": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/03/Thats-My-Word-—-Square-672x372.jpg",
"width": 672,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg",
"height": 372
},
"kqedFullSize": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/03/Thats-My-Word-—-Square.jpg",
"width": 1080,
"height": 1080
},
"large": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/03/Thats-My-Word-—-Square-1020x1020.jpg",
"width": 1020,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg",
"height": 1020
},
"medium": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/03/Thats-My-Word-—-Square-800x800.jpg",
"width": 800,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg",
"height": 800
},
"medium_large": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/03/Thats-My-Word-—-Square-768x768.jpg",
"width": 768,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg",
"height": 768
}
},
"publishDate": 1678343366,
"modified": 1678344269,
"caption": "Lil' Jon and E-40, pictured onstage together in 2006. From his home base in Atlanta, Lil Jon produced the hyphy era's two biggest nationwide hits: E-40's \"Tell Me When To Go\" and Too Short's \"Blow the Whistle\" — just one of many close ties between Southern and Bay Area hip-hop. ",
"description": null,
"title": "That's My Word — Square",
"credit": "John Shearer/WireImage for MTV.com",
"status": "inherit",
"altTag": "A short Black man in dreads holds up a microphone with one hand and rest his other rm on the shoulder of a smiling, larger man",
"isLoading": false,
"fetchFailed": false
},
"arts_13926018": {
"type": "attachments",
"id": "arts_13926018",
"meta": {
"index": "attachments_1716263798",
"site": "arts",
"id": "13926018",
"found": true
},
"parent": 13925958,
"imgSizes": {
"twentyfourteen-full-width": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/03/LOGO-LOWER-RIGHT-—-CUTOUT-BLACK-LOGO-1-1038x576.jpg",
"width": 1038,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg",
"height": 576
},
"thumbnail": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/03/LOGO-LOWER-RIGHT-—-CUTOUT-BLACK-LOGO-1-160x90.jpg",
"width": 160,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg",
"height": 90
},
"post-thumbnail": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/03/LOGO-LOWER-RIGHT-—-CUTOUT-BLACK-LOGO-1-672x372.jpg",
"width": 672,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg",
"height": 372
},
"kqedFullSize": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/03/LOGO-LOWER-RIGHT-—-CUTOUT-BLACK-LOGO-1.jpg",
"width": 1920,
"height": 1080
},
"large": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/03/LOGO-LOWER-RIGHT-—-CUTOUT-BLACK-LOGO-1-1020x574.jpg",
"width": 1020,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg",
"height": 574
},
"1536x1536": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/03/LOGO-LOWER-RIGHT-—-CUTOUT-BLACK-LOGO-1-1536x864.jpg",
"width": 1536,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg",
"height": 864
},
"medium": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/03/LOGO-LOWER-RIGHT-—-CUTOUT-BLACK-LOGO-1-800x450.jpg",
"width": 800,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg",
"height": 450
},
"medium_large": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/03/LOGO-LOWER-RIGHT-—-CUTOUT-BLACK-LOGO-1-768x432.jpg",
"width": 768,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg",
"height": 432
}
},
"publishDate": 1678343358,
"modified": 1678343752,
"caption": "Lil' Jon and E-40, pictured onstage together in 2006. From his home base in Atlanta, Lil Jon produced the hyphy era's two biggest nationwide hits: E-40's \"Tell Me When To Go\" and Too Short's \"Blow the Whistle\" — just one of many close ties between Southern and Bay Area hip-hop. ",
"description": null,
"title": "LOGO LOWER RIGHT — CUTOUT (BLACK LOGO) (1)",
"credit": "John Shearer",
"status": "inherit",
"altTag": null,
"isLoading": false,
"fetchFailed": false
},
"arts_13925763": {
"type": "attachments",
"id": "arts_13925763",
"meta": {
"index": "attachments_1716263798",
"site": "arts",
"id": "13925763",
"found": true
},
"parent": 13925761,
"imgSizes": {
"twentyfourteen-full-width": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/03/MagicMike.MAIN_-1038x576.jpg",
"width": 1038,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg",
"height": 576
},
"thumbnail": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/03/MagicMike.MAIN_-160x90.jpg",
"width": 160,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg",
"height": 90
},
"post-thumbnail": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/03/MagicMike.MAIN_-672x372.jpg",
"width": 672,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg",
"height": 372
},
"kqedFullSize": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/03/MagicMike.MAIN_.jpg",
"width": 1920,
"height": 1080
},
"large": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/03/MagicMike.MAIN_-1020x574.jpg",
"width": 1020,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg",
"height": 574
},
"1536x1536": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/03/MagicMike.MAIN_-1536x864.jpg",
"width": 1536,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg",
"height": 864
},
"medium": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/03/MagicMike.MAIN_-800x450.jpg",
"width": 800,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg",
"height": 450
},
"medium_large": {
"file": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/03/MagicMike.MAIN_-768x432.jpg",
"width": 768,
"mimeType": "image/jpeg",
"height": 432
}
},
"publishDate": 1677691350,
"modified": 1677700157,
"caption": "Magic Mike, interviewed by Dregs One, in a February 2023 podcast episode of 'History of the Bay.'",
"description": null,
"title": "MagicMike.MAIN",
"credit": "Courtesy Dregs One",
"status": "inherit",
"altTag": null,
"isLoading": false,
"fetchFailed": false
}
},
"audioPlayerReducer": {
"postId": "stream_live",
"isPaused": true,
"isPlaying": false,
"pfsActive": false,
"pledgeModalIsOpen": true,
"playerDrawerIsOpen": false,
"liveAudioPlayStartedAt": 0,
"liveAudioPlayContext": ""
},
"authorsReducer": {
"byline_arts_13936776": {
"type": "authors",
"id": "byline_arts_13936776",
"meta": {
"override": true
},
"slug": "byline_arts_13936776",
"name": "\u003ca>Nastia Voynovskaya\u003c/a>, \u003ca>Billy Cruz\u003c/a>",
"isLoading": false
},
"byline_arts_13932753": {
"type": "authors",
"id": "byline_arts_13932753",
"meta": {
"override": true
},
"slug": "byline_arts_13932753",
"name": "Jonathan Landrum Jr., Gary Gerard Hamilton ",
"isLoading": false
},
"byline_arts_13930886": {
"type": "authors",
"id": "byline_arts_13930886",
"meta": {
"override": true
},
"slug": "byline_arts_13930886",
"name": "KQED Arts & Culture",
"isLoading": false
},
"byline_arts_13930908": {
"type": "authors",
"id": "byline_arts_13930908",
"meta": {
"override": true
},
"slug": "byline_arts_13930908",
"name": "Jonathan Landrum Jr.",
"isLoading": false
},
"byline_arts_13925761": {
"type": "authors",
"id": "byline_arts_13925761",
"meta": {
"override": true
},
"slug": "byline_arts_13925761",
"name": "Dregs One and Gabe Meline",
"isLoading": false
},
"gmeline": {
"type": "authors",
"id": "185",
"meta": {
"index": "authors_1716337520",
"id": "185",
"found": true
},
"name": "Gabe Meline",
"firstName": "Gabe",
"lastName": "Meline",
"slug": "gmeline",
"email": "gmeline@kqed.org",
"display_author_email": true,
"staff_mastheads": [
"arts"
],
"title": "Senior Editor, KQED Arts & Culture",
"bio": "Gabe Meline entered journalism at age 15 making photocopied zines, and has since earned awards from the Edward R. Murrow Awards, the Society for Professional Journalists, the Online Journalism Awards, the Association of Alternative Newsweeklies and the California Newspaper Publishers Association. Prior to KQED, he was the editor of the \u003cem>North Bay Bohemian\u003c/em> and a touring musician. He lives with his wife and daughter in his hometown of Santa Rosa, CA.",
"avatar": "https://secure.gravatar.com/avatar/5bebe57be0d8bc2dd318934feb47299e2d2d10cba28d09d8d7afb389a2ce2bdd?s=600&d=blank&r=g",
"twitter": null,
"bluesky": null,
"facebook": null,
"instagram": null,
"linkedin": null,
"sites": [
{
"site": "",
"roles": [
"editor"
]
},
{
"site": "arts",
"roles": [
"administrator"
]
},
{
"site": "artschool",
"roles": [
"editor"
]
},
{
"site": "news",
"roles": [
"author"
]
},
{
"site": "pop",
"roles": [
"editor"
]
},
{
"site": "bayareabites",
"roles": [
"editor"
]
},
{
"site": "food",
"roles": [
"editor"
]
},
{
"site": "liveblog",
"roles": [
"editor"
]
},
{
"site": "hiphop",
"roles": [
"editor"
]
}
],
"headData": {
"title": "Gabe Meline | KQED",
"description": "Senior Editor, KQED Arts & Culture",
"ogImgSrc": "https://secure.gravatar.com/avatar/5bebe57be0d8bc2dd318934feb47299e2d2d10cba28d09d8d7afb389a2ce2bdd?s=600&d=blank&r=g",
"twImgSrc": "https://secure.gravatar.com/avatar/5bebe57be0d8bc2dd318934feb47299e2d2d10cba28d09d8d7afb389a2ce2bdd?s=600&d=blank&r=g"
},
"isLoading": false,
"link": "/author/gmeline"
},
"tamarapalmer": {
"type": "authors",
"id": "5111",
"meta": {
"index": "authors_1716337520",
"id": "5111",
"found": true
},
"name": "Tamara Palmer",
"firstName": "Tamara",
"lastName": "Palmer",
"slug": "tamarapalmer",
"email": "countryfriedsoul@gmail.com",
"display_author_email": false,
"staff_mastheads": [],
"title": "KQED Contributor",
"bio": "I'm a professional DJ, freelance writer, recipe developer and independent publisher of zines about music and food. You'll find my byline in a wide range of news, tech and entertainment publications. My first book \u003ci>Country Fried Soul: Adventures in Dirty South Hip-Hop\u003c/i> was published in 2005, and a more personal West Coast anthology called \u003ci>California Love\u003c/i> is planned for 2023.",
"avatar": "https://secure.gravatar.com/avatar/27bd98c3b2849cbe3bfec1cfdfa15e33?s=600&d=blank&r=g",
"twitter": null,
"facebook": null,
"instagram": null,
"linkedin": null,
"sites": [
{
"site": "arts",
"roles": [
"author"
]
},
{
"site": "bayareabites",
"roles": [
"contributor"
]
}
],
"headData": {
"title": "Tamara Palmer | KQED",
"description": "KQED Contributor",
"ogImgSrc": "https://secure.gravatar.com/avatar/27bd98c3b2849cbe3bfec1cfdfa15e33?s=600&d=blank&r=g",
"twImgSrc": "https://secure.gravatar.com/avatar/27bd98c3b2849cbe3bfec1cfdfa15e33?s=600&d=blank&r=g"
},
"isLoading": false,
"link": "/author/tamarapalmer"
},
"nvoynovskaya": {
"type": "authors",
"id": "11387",
"meta": {
"index": "authors_1716337520",
"id": "11387",
"found": true
},
"name": "Nastia Voynovskaya",
"firstName": "Nastia",
"lastName": "Voynovskaya",
"slug": "nvoynovskaya",
"email": "nvoynovskaya@kqed.org",
"display_author_email": false,
"staff_mastheads": [
"arts"
],
"title": "Editor and reporter",
"bio": "Nastia Voynovskaya is a reporter and editor at KQED Arts & Culture. She's been covering the arts in the Bay Area for over a decade, with a focus on music, queer culture, labor issues and grassroots organizing. She has edited KQED story series such as Trans Bay: A History of San Francisco's Gender-Diverse Community, and co-created KQED's Bay Area hip-hop history project, That's My Word. Nastia's work has been recognized by the Society of Professional Journalists and San Francisco Press Club. She holds a BA in comparative literature from UC Berkeley.",
"avatar": "https://secure.gravatar.com/avatar/5025ee460e5a85d69ca20ea6c6f2f80d7e17795c828f61ea3aecfcd924e9042e?s=600&d=blank&r=g",
"twitter": null,
"bluesky": null,
"facebook": null,
"instagram": "https://www.instagram.com/nananastia/",
"linkedin": null,
"sites": [
{
"site": "arts",
"roles": [
"administrator"
]
},
{
"site": "news",
"roles": [
"editor"
]
},
{
"site": "pop",
"roles": [
"administrator"
]
},
{
"site": "bayareabites",
"roles": [
"editor"
]
},
{
"site": "podcasts",
"roles": [
"editor"
]
},
{
"site": "hiphop",
"roles": [
"editor"
]
}
],
"headData": {
"title": "Nastia Voynovskaya | KQED",
"description": "Editor and reporter",
"ogImgSrc": "https://secure.gravatar.com/avatar/5025ee460e5a85d69ca20ea6c6f2f80d7e17795c828f61ea3aecfcd924e9042e?s=600&d=blank&r=g",
"twImgSrc": "https://secure.gravatar.com/avatar/5025ee460e5a85d69ca20ea6c6f2f80d7e17795c828f61ea3aecfcd924e9042e?s=600&d=blank&r=g"
},
"isLoading": false,
"link": "/author/nvoynovskaya"
},
"ogpenn": {
"type": "authors",
"id": "11491",
"meta": {
"index": "authors_1716337520",
"id": "11491",
"found": true
},
"name": "Pendarvis Harshaw",
"firstName": "Pendarvis",
"lastName": "Harshaw",
"slug": "ogpenn",
"email": "ogpenn@gmail.com",
"display_author_email": false,
"staff_mastheads": [
"arts"
],
"title": "Community Engagement Reporter",
"bio": "Pendarvis Harshaw is an educator, host and writer with KQED Arts.",
"avatar": "https://secure.gravatar.com/avatar/972b77ee8e3f346ae2b00622661187fbfabd059b5693bbdc1475ea7a722fd4cd?s=600&d=blank&r=g",
"twitter": null,
"bluesky": null,
"facebook": null,
"instagram": "ogpenn",
"linkedin": null,
"sites": [
{
"site": "arts",
"roles": [
"administrator"
]
},
{
"site": "news",
"roles": [
"editor"
]
},
{
"site": "bayareabites",
"roles": [
"author"
]
},
{
"site": "hiphop",
"roles": [
"editor"
]
}
],
"headData": {
"title": "Pendarvis Harshaw | KQED",
"description": "Community Engagement Reporter",
"ogImgSrc": "https://secure.gravatar.com/avatar/972b77ee8e3f346ae2b00622661187fbfabd059b5693bbdc1475ea7a722fd4cd?s=600&d=blank&r=g",
"twImgSrc": "https://secure.gravatar.com/avatar/972b77ee8e3f346ae2b00622661187fbfabd059b5693bbdc1475ea7a722fd4cd?s=600&d=blank&r=g"
},
"isLoading": false,
"link": "/author/ogpenn"
},
"achazaro": {
"type": "authors",
"id": "11748",
"meta": {
"index": "authors_1716337520",
"id": "11748",
"found": true
},
"name": "Alan Chazaro",
"firstName": "Alan",
"lastName": "Chazaro",
"slug": "achazaro",
"email": "agchazaro@gmail.com",
"display_author_email": true,
"staff_mastheads": [],
"title": "Food Writer and Reporter",
"bio": "Alan Chazaro is the author of \u003cem>This Is Not a Frank Ocean Cover Album\u003c/em> (Black Lawrence Press, 2019), \u003cem>Piñata Theory\u003c/em> (Black Lawrence Press, 2020), and \u003cem>Notes from the Eastern Span of the Bay Bridge\u003c/em> (Ghost City Press, 2021). He is a graduate of June Jordan’s Poetry for the People program at UC Berkeley and a former Lawrence Ferlinghetti Fellow at the University of San Francisco. He writes about sports, food, art, music, education, and culture while repping the Bay on \u003ca href=\"https://twitter.com/alan_chazaro\">Twitter\u003c/a> and \u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/alan_chazaro/?hl=en\">Instagram\u003c/a> at @alan_chazaro.",
"avatar": "https://secure.gravatar.com/avatar/ea8b6dd970fc5c29e7a188e7d5861df7?s=600&d=blank&r=g",
"twitter": "alan_chazaro",
"facebook": null,
"instagram": null,
"linkedin": null,
"sites": [
{
"site": "arts",
"roles": [
"contributor"
]
},
{
"site": "news",
"roles": [
"editor"
]
}
],
"headData": {
"title": "Alan Chazaro | KQED",
"description": "Food Writer and Reporter",
"ogImgSrc": "https://secure.gravatar.com/avatar/ea8b6dd970fc5c29e7a188e7d5861df7?s=600&d=blank&r=g",
"twImgSrc": "https://secure.gravatar.com/avatar/ea8b6dd970fc5c29e7a188e7d5861df7?s=600&d=blank&r=g"
},
"isLoading": false,
"link": "/author/achazaro"
},
"mreeves": {
"type": "authors",
"id": "11855",
"meta": {
"index": "authors_1716337520",
"id": "11855",
"found": true
},
"name": "Mosi Reeves",
"firstName": "Mosi",
"lastName": "Reeves",
"slug": "mreeves",
"email": "infamous30@gmail.com",
"display_author_email": false,
"staff_mastheads": [],
"title": "KQED Contributor",
"bio": "Mosi Reeves is a journalist and cultural critic based in Oakland, California. In addition to KQED, his work has appeared in \u003cem>Rolling Stone\u003c/em>, \u003cem>The Wire\u003c/em>, Pitchfork, \u003cem>Billboard\u003c/em>, and Grammy.com.",
"avatar": "https://secure.gravatar.com/avatar/6f376003ca1cf7a873edc107f5f331f1?s=600&d=blank&r=g",
"twitter": null,
"facebook": null,
"instagram": null,
"linkedin": null,
"sites": [
{
"site": "arts",
"roles": [
"contributor"
]
},
{
"site": "pop",
"roles": [
"contributor"
]
}
],
"headData": {
"title": "Mosi Reeves | KQED",
"description": "KQED Contributor",
"ogImgSrc": "https://secure.gravatar.com/avatar/6f376003ca1cf7a873edc107f5f331f1?s=600&d=blank&r=g",
"twImgSrc": "https://secure.gravatar.com/avatar/6f376003ca1cf7a873edc107f5f331f1?s=600&d=blank&r=g"
},
"isLoading": false,
"link": "/author/mreeves"
}
},
"pagesReducer": {
"arts_tag_too-short": {
"type": "terms",
"id": "arts_3478",
"meta": {
"index": "terms_1716263798",
"site": "arts",
"id": "3478",
"score": 9.890152
},
"featImg": null,
"name": "Too Short",
"description": null,
"taxonomy": "tag",
"headData": {
"twImgId": null,
"twTitle": null,
"ogTitle": null,
"ogImgId": null,
"twDescription": null,
"description": null,
"title": "Too Short Archives | KQED Arts",
"ogDescription": null
},
"ttid": 3490,
"slug": "too-short",
"isLoading": false,
"title": "Too Short",
"pageMeta": {
"site": "arts",
"WpPageTemplate": "page-topic-editorial",
"currentPage": 2
},
"blocks": [
{
"blockName": "kqed/post-list",
"attrs": {
"layout": "cardArticle2",
"query": "posts/arts?tag=too-short",
"seeMore": false,
"paginated": true,
"page": 2
}
},
{
"blockName": "kqed/ad"
}
]
}
},
"pfsSessionReducer": {},
"postsReducer": {
"stream_live": {
"type": "live",
"id": "stream_live",
"audioUrl": "https://streams.kqed.org/kqedradio",
"title": "Live Stream",
"excerpt": "Live Stream information currently unavailable.",
"link": "/radio",
"featImg": "",
"label": {
"name": "KQED Live",
"link": "/"
}
},
"stream_kqedNewscast": {
"type": "posts",
"id": "stream_kqedNewscast",
"audioUrl": "https://www.kqed.org/.stream/anon/radio/RDnews/newscast.mp3?_=1",
"title": "KQED Newscast",
"featImg": "",
"label": {
"name": "88.5 FM",
"link": "/"
}
},
"arts_13939056": {
"type": "posts",
"id": "arts_13939056",
"meta": {
"index": "posts_1716263798",
"site": "arts",
"id": "13939056",
"score": null,
"sort": [
1702051219000
]
},
"guestAuthors": [],
"slug": "the-maturation-of-your-favorite-artists-and-a-look-back-at-hip-hop-50",
"title": "You Never Thought That Hip-Hop Could Take It This Far",
"publishDate": 1702051219,
"format": "standard",
"headTitle": "You Never Thought That Hip-Hop Could Take It This Far | KQED",
"labelTerm": {
"site": "arts"
},
"content": "\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 4.6875em;float: left;line-height: 0.733em;padding: 0.05em 0.1em 0 0;font-family: times, serif, georgia\">“W\u003c/span>hat drew me into hip-hop,” said Tariq Trotter, widely known as Black Thought of the legendary Roots crew, “was that it was, you know, spoken in a language that, you know, people who were 30, 40, 50 years old didn’t understand.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"alignright size-thumbnail wp-image-13833985\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/OGPenn.Cap_-160x184.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"160\" height=\"184\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/OGPenn.Cap_-160x184.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/OGPenn.Cap_.jpg 180w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 160px) 100vw, 160px\">Trotter was \u003ca href=\"https://www.npr.org/2023/11/07/1211025998/tariq-trotter-black-thought-the-roots-questlove-upcycled-self\">in conversation with NPR’s Tonya Mosely\u003c/a> as the two discussed Trotter’s new memoir, \u003cem>The Upcycled Self\u003c/em>. The book charts his path both as an artist and an individual; it includes heavy details about his life, including the murders of both his parents, as well a fire he set in his house at the age of six. Trotter, now 52, is clear about his personal maturation process, and how the culture of hip-hop has grown as well.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Trotter appreciates the many subgenres within hip-hop, even if he doesn’t understand them; and that’s because he’s not supposed to. The popular sound of today, drill music, isn’t made for people his age. Trotter, who will be \u003ca href=\"https://www.cityboxoffice.com/ordertickets.asp?p=13941\">in discussion with Jelani Cobb at San Francisco’s City Arts & Lectures\u003c/a> on Saturday, Feb. 24, concluded his point by telling Mosely, “We’ve become our parents and grandparents at this point, you know?”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13939084\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13939084\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/Andre.3000.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"1200\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/Andre.3000.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/Andre.3000-160x240.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/Andre.3000-768x1152.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Andre 3000 attends the GQ Men of the Year Party 2023 VIP dinner at Chateau Marmont on Nov. 16, 2023 in Los Angeles. \u003ccite>(Emma McIntyre/Getty Images)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>As the celebration of what’s widely regarded as hip-hop’s 50th anniversary year comes to an end, I’m waiting for someone to make one of those montages that plays at the end of a movie. You know, where they show a sepia-colored portrait of each prominent character, overlaid with a couple lines about what eventually came of their lives.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>When the cheesy music starts, the first image could be of OutKast, the famed Atlanta duo who showed the world that you can rhyme about Cadillacs and spaceships in the same breath. André 3000, who made his mark at the 1995 Source Awards (“\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jyxaYc9F48Y\">the south got something to say\u003c/a>”), is now a world-traveling flutist who dropped a full-length jazz album. Meanwhile, his former partner in rhyme, Big Boi, a renowned lyricist and actor who played the role of a dope dealer named Marcus in the hit movie \u003cem>ATL\u003c/em>, has become \u003ca href=\"https://www.revolt.tv/article/2022-09-29/213913/big-boi-trends-as-stunned-fans-marvel-over-his-owl-collection/\">an owler\u003c/a>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Members of the collective that birthed OutKast, the Dungeon Family, have also gone on to \u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-N4jf6rtyuw\">notable\u003c/a> \u003ca href=\"https://beats-rhymes-lists.com/facts/future-originally-member-atlanta-dungeon-family/\">things\u003c/a>. Just a few years after a \u003ca href=\"https://www.npr.org/sections/therecord/2018/03/26/596988606/killer-mike-apologizes-for-interview-with-nra-claims-it-was-misused\">controversial interview with the NRA\u003c/a>, and forming an odd-couple partnership with Senator Bernie Sanders during his 2020 presidential run, lyricist Killer Mike dropped Michael, one of the most critically acclaimed albums of the year. Even at the big age of 48, folks can still rap.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13828022\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2048px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13828022\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/03/gettyimages-632359900_wide-75cfc86b44dfbaea982eba0457af104c57871411.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"2048\" height=\"1152\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/03/gettyimages-632359900_wide-75cfc86b44dfbaea982eba0457af104c57871411.jpg 2048w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/03/gettyimages-632359900_wide-75cfc86b44dfbaea982eba0457af104c57871411-160x90.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/03/gettyimages-632359900_wide-75cfc86b44dfbaea982eba0457af104c57871411-800x450.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/03/gettyimages-632359900_wide-75cfc86b44dfbaea982eba0457af104c57871411-768x432.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/03/gettyimages-632359900_wide-75cfc86b44dfbaea982eba0457af104c57871411-1020x574.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/03/gettyimages-632359900_wide-75cfc86b44dfbaea982eba0457af104c57871411-1920x1080.jpg 1920w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/03/gettyimages-632359900_wide-75cfc86b44dfbaea982eba0457af104c57871411-1180x664.jpg 1180w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/03/gettyimages-632359900_wide-75cfc86b44dfbaea982eba0457af104c57871411-960x540.jpg 960w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/03/gettyimages-632359900_wide-75cfc86b44dfbaea982eba0457af104c57871411-240x135.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/03/gettyimages-632359900_wide-75cfc86b44dfbaea982eba0457af104c57871411-375x211.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/03/gettyimages-632359900_wide-75cfc86b44dfbaea982eba0457af104c57871411-520x293.jpg 520w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2048px) 100vw, 2048px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Killer Mike performing in Atlanta in 2017. \u003ccite>(David A. Smith/Getty Images)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Speaking of old heads from Atlanta who can still gas a track: Ludacris has entered the chat. In addition to co-starring in the Christmas film \u003cem>\u003ca href=\"https://www.imdb.com/title/tt5608166/\">Dashing Through The Snow\u003c/a>\u003c/em>, creating a charming children’s show called \u003cem>\u003ca href=\"https://www.karmasworld.com/p/1\">Karma’s World\u003c/a>\u003c/em>, and doing \u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c3WaUZhvjK4\">commercials for State Farm Insurance\u003c/a>, at age 46 Luda is reportedly \u003ca href=\"https://people.com/ludacris-to-release-new-music-2024-after-taking-step-back-8405825\">working on an album\u003c/a> for 2024. (\u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/reel/CoL-fnvAlAq/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link\">He still has bars\u003c/a>.)\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>But not everyone is doing well with maturation. Again in Atlanta, rapper T.I.’s life has become a bit of a walking reality show. Despite his large vocabulary and investment in \u003ca href=\"https://www.wsbtv.com/news/local/atlanta/atlanta-rapper-ti-celebrates-opening-his-first-affordable-housing-development/5IYPKMYWTJB33KHSZX3VK6XHN4/\">real estate properties\u003c/a>, T.I., who at the age of 43 recently announced an impending double album and subsequent \u003ca href=\"https://allrapnews.com/news/t-i-to-retire-from-rap-with-final-double-album-featuring-nba-youngboy/\">retirement from rap\u003c/a>, has been the butt of jokes about \u003ca href=\"https://globalnews.ca/news/6214889/ti-daughter-hymen-controversy/\">family issues\u003c/a>. Most recently, the King of the South had to deal with a \u003ca href=\"https://theshaderoom.com/settin-things-straight-t-i-addresses-viral-scuffle-with-son-king-harris/\">recorded altercation with his son\u003c/a>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[aside postID='arts_13923938']Speaking of hip-hop icons and domestic disputes: Diddy.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>After changing his name again, this time to “Brother Love,” and dropping an album titled \u003cem>The Love Album: Off the Grid\u003c/em>, it’s become extremely apparent that 54 year-old Diddy, real name Sean Combs, is the polar opposite of love. Just days after being \u003ca href=\"https://www.npr.org/2023/11/17/1213684443/lawsuit-accuses-sean-diddy-combs-of-trafficking-sexual-assault-and-abuse\">sued by musician and former girlfriend Cassie\u003c/a> for trafficking, rape, assault and more, Combs settled the case out of court, expeditiously. A few days later, Combs, who recently stepped down as Chairman of Revolt TV, was served with additional lawsuits from different women who alleged similar crimes. \u003cem>More money, more problems\u003c/em>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>On the topic of people involved in the mid-’90s East Coast / West Coast beef and the law: \u003ca href=\"https://www.npr.org/2023/09/29/1202716171/tupac-shakur-killing-duane-davis-indicted\">Duane “Keffe D” Davis\u003c/a> is now in prison for charges related to the murder of Tupac Shakur after his arrest earlier this fall. Just a few months later, in an unrelated but relevant story, \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13937563/tupac-shakur-way-oakland-street-renaming\">Tupac Shakur’s name was immortalized\u003c/a> during a street naming ceremony in \u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yCYT3T3UBdw\">the city he got his game from\u003c/a>, Oakland.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13937625\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1920px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13937625\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-TupakShakurWay-27-BL-qut.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1920\" height=\"1280\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-TupakShakurWay-27-BL-qut.jpg 1920w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-TupakShakurWay-27-BL-qut-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-TupakShakurWay-27-BL-qut-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-TupakShakurWay-27-BL-qut-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-TupakShakurWay-27-BL-qut-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-TupakShakurWay-27-BL-qut-1536x1024.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1920px) 100vw, 1920px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">The sign for ‘Tupac Shakur Way’ is unveiled during a renaming ceremony in Oakland, Calif., on Nov. 3, 2023. \u003ccite>(Beth LaBerge/KQED)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Late last year, the City of Oakland also unveiled \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13922616/too-short-way-street-sign-unveiled-oakland\">a street sign recognizing 57 year-old Too Short’s contributions\u003c/a> to the culture in front of his alma mater, Fremont High School. Additionally, while dropping an album, releasing a cookbook, and selling enough liquor to sink a ship, 56 year-old entrepreneur \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13936776/e-40-gets-the-key-to-the-city-of-vallejo-and-a-street-named-in-his-honor\">E-40 got a part of Magazine Street in Vallejo named in his honor\u003c/a>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Staying in the Bay, the Hieroglyphics crew’s Souls of Mischief, who three decades ago famously predicted that they’d be chillin’ until the clock strikes infinity, are doing a lot more than just chillin’. They initially set out to do 93 shows this year to celebrate the 30th anniversary of their song “93 ’Til Infinity.” As of today, they’ve done 117 shows across multiple continents, and they’ve also \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13932471/souls-of-mischief-freestyle-93-til-infinity\">recorded new verses over the “93 ’Til Infinity” instrumental\u003c/a>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Another member of \u003ca href=\"https://www.npr.org/sections/therecord/2013/04/17/177326079/this-was-1993-20-years-ago-i-heard-the-perfect-rap-song\">the class of ’93\u003c/a> from Oakland, 52 year-old Boots Riley, has been on a run. His 2023 TV series about a giant Black man from East Oakland, \u003cem>I’m A Virgo\u003c/em>, has been nominated for multiple awards. Behind the scenes, Boots has continued to point out injustices in our society, with a focus on the predatory nature of capitalism.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13933475\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13933475\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/230818-BOOTS-RILEY-Getty-MM-KQED.jpg\" alt=\"A person in a very tall hat speaks in to a set of microphones at a podium in an outdoor setting.\" width=\"2000\" height=\"1333\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/230818-BOOTS-RILEY-Getty-MM-KQED.jpg 2000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/230818-BOOTS-RILEY-Getty-MM-KQED-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/230818-BOOTS-RILEY-Getty-MM-KQED-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/230818-BOOTS-RILEY-Getty-MM-KQED-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/230818-BOOTS-RILEY-Getty-MM-KQED-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/230818-BOOTS-RILEY-Getty-MM-KQED-1536x1024.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/230818-BOOTS-RILEY-Getty-MM-KQED-1920x1280.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2000px) 100vw, 2000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Boots Riley speaks at the 2023 Writers Guild Of America Strike: Rally And March at Pan Pacific Park on June 21, 2023 in Los Angeles. \u003ccite>(Momodu Mansaray/Getty Images)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>On the subject of early ’90s West Coast MCs who once used their music to give the middle finger to Uncle Sam before turning to film, there’s Ice Cube. The good news is that Cube, the 54 year-old founder of the Big3 basketball league, is still making music and movies, just as he did three decades ago. The bad news? \u003ca href=\"https://www.vibe.com/news/entertainment/ice-cube-tucker-carlson-interview-many-fans-disappointed-1234775390/\">He’s also giving tours of the hood to conservative white folks\u003c/a>. Then again, that’s kind of what mainstream “gangsta rappers” have always done, right?\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Politics hasn’t always been the most welcoming arena for hip-hop artists, but just this past week, 53 year-old \u003ca href=\"https://www.npr.org/2023/12/04/1215901880/queen-latifah-billy-crystal-and-others-celebrated-at-kennedy-center-honors\">Queen Latifah\u003c/a> received praise from President Joe Biden as she became the first female rap artist to receive the prestigious Kennedy Center Honor.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>While we’re awarding artists who’ve done the work and then some, let’s talk about the ever-influential \u003ca href=\"https://www.rockhall.com/inductees/missy-elliott?gad_source=1&gclid=Cj0KCQiAsburBhCIARIsAExmsu7TtF4zNeILr0texP3h8TsAue-XEitgt7gIgGsbddEAcVvheVatO24aAokcEALw_wcB\">Missy Elliott\u003c/a>, who at the age of 52 was inducted into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame this year. (68 year-old DJ Kool Herc, a founding father of hip-hop, joined her as a 2023 inductee.)\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13915629\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2560px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13915629\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2022/06/GettyImages-57095278-scaled.jpg\" alt=\"A close-up of a Black woman's face with colorful eyeliner, as she sings into a microphone\" width=\"2560\" height=\"1725\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2022/06/GettyImages-57095278-scaled.jpg 2560w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2022/06/GettyImages-57095278-800x539.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2022/06/GettyImages-57095278-1020x687.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2022/06/GettyImages-57095278-160x108.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2022/06/GettyImages-57095278-768x518.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2022/06/GettyImages-57095278-1536x1035.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2022/06/GettyImages-57095278-2048x1380.jpg 2048w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2022/06/GettyImages-57095278-1920x1294.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2560px) 100vw, 2560px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Lauryn Hill has written about feeling pressured to choose between her career and motherhood. \u003ccite>(Paul Hawthorne/Getty Images)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Despite the revelation that Fugees member \u003ca href=\"https://www.npr.org/2023/04/26/1172368058/former-fugees-musician-pras-michel-found-guilty-of-10-criminal-charges\">Pras was once a federal agent\u003c/a>, that didn’t stop 48 year-old Lauryn Hill and the crew from reuniting for a few shows around the country, \u003ca href=\"https://www.sfchronicle.com/entertainment/article/lauryn-hill-oakland-concert-18467645.php\">including one last month in Oakland\u003c/a>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>There are veteran artists doing completely unforeseen things, like \u003ca href=\"https://www.xxlmag.com/redman-licensed-skydiver/\">Redman (age 53) becoming a licensed skydiver\u003c/a> or \u003ca href=\"https://www.complex.com/music/a/jaelaniturnerwilliams/twista-raps-overnight-celebrity-over-gun-shots\">Twista (age 50) teaching firearm safety and rapping to the sound of bullets flying\u003c/a> at a shooting range. And then there are artists continuing what they’ve been doing, just at a higher level. Method Man is a certified actor who still periodically drops a verse here and there, and at the age of 52 \u003ca href=\"https://www.menshealth.com/health/a44665280/method-man-hip-hop-50-interview/\">moonlights as a sex symbol\u003c/a>. Lil Kim, who at 49 has her own claim as a sex symbol, just \u003ca href=\"https://www.porchlightbooks.com/product/queen-bee_4--lil-kim\">penned a memoir\u003c/a> that’s set to release next year. Texas OG Bun B, a 50 year-old who \u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UMCSP5yNLQk\">knows his way around the kitchen\u003c/a>, has opened a restaurant called \u003ca href=\"https://www.houstonpublicmedia.org/articles/arts-culture/food/2023/06/07/453856/bun-bs-trill-burgers-launches-first-brick-and-mortar-location-in-houston/\">Trill Burgers\u003c/a>. The ever-fashionable megaproducer Pharrell, who doesn’t age despite government records showing he’s 50, is now \u003ca href=\"https://www.nytimes.com/2023/06/18/style/louis-vuitton-menswear-pharrell-williams-louis-vuittons.html\">designing for Louis Vuitton\u003c/a>. And 53 year-old MC Lyte, whose voice dropped rock-heavy flows when hip-hop was in its nascent form and has since gone on to host award shows, is now using her voice to talk to the \u003ca href=\"https://afrotech.com/mc-lyte-supporting-black-girls-in-tech/\">next generation of Black girls interested in coding\u003c/a>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13932398\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2560px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13932398\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/07/Rakim-2-scaled.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"2560\" height=\"1920\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/07/Rakim-2-scaled.jpg 2560w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/07/Rakim-2-800x600.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/07/Rakim-2-1020x765.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/07/Rakim-2-160x120.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/07/Rakim-2-768x576.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/07/Rakim-2-1536x1152.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/07/Rakim-2-2048x1536.jpg 2048w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/07/Rakim-2-1920x1440.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2560px) 100vw, 2560px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Rakim performs at Blue Note Jazz Festival on Sunday, July 30, 2023. \u003ccite>(Eric Arnold)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Let’s take a second to pause, and acknowledge the many hip-hop artists who’ve died at a young age due to poor health. And follow that by celebrating and supporting the legends who are living, like \u003ca href=\"https://www.vibe.com/gallery/paid-in-full-foundations-inaugural-hip-hop-grandmaster-awards-rakim-nas-1234814725/\">Scarface (53) and Rakim (55)\u003c/a>, who both recently received healthcare benefits and financial support from the Paid in Full Foundation. Health concerns for our aging icons are also part of the reason folks’ ears perked up when 52 year-old Snoop Dogg posted on social media that he’s “done with smoke.” And, because he’s Snoop, we weren’t surprised when the news turned out to be a commercial for \u003ca href=\"https://people.com/snoop-dogg-not-giving-up-weed-announces-collaboration-with-smokeless-fire-pit-brand-8404736\">a smoke-free fire pit\u003c/a>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[aside postID='arts_13934874']In this 50th year of hip-hop, we’re grateful to see the resolution of feuds between artists. \u003ca href=\"https://www.vibe.com/news/entertainment/camron-mase-sign-talk-show-deal-1234782595/\">Ma$e (48) and Cam’ron (47) reunited\u003c/a> and created “It Is What It Is,” a talk show that’s full of laughs and insight on current events. North Carolina’s hip-hop duo Little Brother recently released a documentary film, \u003cem>\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H_LQmpx5l-E\">May the Lord Watch: The Little Brother Story\u003c/a>\u003c/em>, highlighting their friendship’s trajectory. And on the more romantic side of reunions, Nelly and Ashanti got back together, and are expecting their first child.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>That’s a good segue to the news that at the age of 48, the first woman to go platinum as a rap artist, Da Brat, \u003ca href=\"https://www.ajc.com/life/radiotvtalk-blog/da-brat-amazed-and-grateful-for-baby-son-at-age-48/QLNVH4K4I5FWRLJ6FDTNEQAMVU/\">just gave birth to a baby boy\u003c/a>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>You never thought that hip-hop would take it this far.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13939085\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1400px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13939085\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/Juvenile.TinyDesk.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1400\" height=\"787\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/Juvenile.TinyDesk.jpg 1400w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/Juvenile.TinyDesk-800x450.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/Juvenile.TinyDesk-1020x573.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/Juvenile.TinyDesk-160x90.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/Juvenile.TinyDesk-768x432.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1400px) 100vw, 1400px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Juvenile performs with Mannie Fresh and an all-star band at the NPR offices in a Tiny Desk Concert. \u003ccite>(Catie Dull/NPR)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Neither could we have imagined that at the age 45, Trina, Ms. “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BvsPwwphxrg\">Whoop-whoop, pull over, that ass is too fat\u003c/a>,” would be performing at the offices of National Public Radio. Nor \u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kes2P4IC2bQ\">Mr. Back That Azz Up\u003c/a>, a.k.a. Juvenile (48), for that matter. But yes, both happened this year.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>A half-century since hip-hop started and there are many reasons to rejoice, despite some of the unsavory news. As fans, we’re appreciative that the catalogs of Young Jeezy and De La Soul are now on streaming sites. And we’re equally appreciative that there’s new music from the likes of J.Cole, Lil Wayne and Nas, who at age 50, has dropped multiple award-winning albums in the past five years and had a resurrection unlike anyone else in the game—with the possible exception of Black Thought.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>When Tariq Trotter isn’t rocking as a part of the house band for \u003cem>Late Night with Jimmy Fallon\u003c/em>, he’s writing off-Broadway plays and acting in films. But don’t think for a second he can’t spit a \u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=prmQgSpV3fA\">scorching freestyle\u003c/a>, too. He’s dropped verses on projects with younger rappers that show he hasn’t lost a step. And he’s put out a few highly acclaimed projects over the past couple years — arguably some of his best work — with music that speaks to middle-aged hip-hop heads.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13840236\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13840236\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/09/MG_9583.jpg\" alt=\"Black Thought plays Hiero Day in Oakland on Monday, September 3, 2018.\" width=\"800\" height=\"533\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/09/MG_9583.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/09/MG_9583-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/09/MG_9583-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/09/MG_9583-240x160.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/09/MG_9583-375x250.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/09/MG_9583-520x346.jpg 520w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Black Thought plays Hiero Day in Oakland on Monday, September 3, 2018. \u003ccite>(Estefany Gonzalez )\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>During his interview with NPR, Black Thought talked about maturing, and that he feels more comfortable sharing more intimate details of his life. “As artists, there’s a dance, there’s a negotiation that takes place,” Trotter told Mosely. “But it’s the sort of thing that I was holding on to for the right moment — you know what I mean? For when it made the most sense. And that’s right now.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>And that right there is all the more reason to appreciate the aging process.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter size-full wp-image-12127869\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"78\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-400x39.jpg 400w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-768x75.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad floatright]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>Black Thought appears in discussion with Jelani Cobb on Saturday, Feb. 24, at the Sydney Goldstein Theatre in San Francisco as part of City Arts & Lectures. \u003ca href=\"https://www.cityboxoffice.com/ordertickets.asp?p=13941\">Details and ticket info here\u003c/a>. \u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\n",
"blocks": [],
"excerpt": "Hip-Hop at 50 and the maturation of your favorite artists.",
"status": "publish",
"parent": 0,
"modified": 1726757462,
"stats": {
"hasAudio": false,
"hasVideo": false,
"hasChartOrMap": false,
"iframeSrcs": [],
"hasGoogleForm": false,
"hasGallery": false,
"hasHearkenModule": false,
"hasPolis": false,
"paragraphCount": 32,
"wordCount": 2251
},
"headData": {
"title": "You Never Thought That Hip-Hop Could Take It This Far | KQED",
"description": "Hip-Hop at 50 and the maturation of your favorite artists.",
"ogTitle": "",
"ogDescription": "",
"ogImgId": "",
"twTitle": "",
"twDescription": "",
"twImgId": "",
"schema": {
"@context": "https://schema.org",
"@type": "Article",
"headline": "You Never Thought That Hip-Hop Could Take It This Far",
"datePublished": "2023-12-08T08:00:19-08:00",
"dateModified": "2024-09-19T07:51:02-07:00",
"image": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/02/KQED-OG-Image@1x.png"
}
},
"sticky": false,
"templateType": "standard",
"featuredImageType": "standard",
"excludeFromSiteSearch": "Include",
"articleAge": "0",
"path": "/arts/13939056/the-maturation-of-your-favorite-artists-and-a-look-back-at-hip-hop-50",
"audioTrackLength": null,
"parsedContent": [
{
"type": "contentString",
"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 4.6875em;float: left;line-height: 0.733em;padding: 0.05em 0.1em 0 0;font-family: times, serif, georgia\">“W\u003c/span>hat drew me into hip-hop,” said Tariq Trotter, widely known as Black Thought of the legendary Roots crew, “was that it was, you know, spoken in a language that, you know, people who were 30, 40, 50 years old didn’t understand.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"alignright size-thumbnail wp-image-13833985\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/OGPenn.Cap_-160x184.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"160\" height=\"184\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/OGPenn.Cap_-160x184.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/OGPenn.Cap_.jpg 180w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 160px) 100vw, 160px\">Trotter was \u003ca href=\"https://www.npr.org/2023/11/07/1211025998/tariq-trotter-black-thought-the-roots-questlove-upcycled-self\">in conversation with NPR’s Tonya Mosely\u003c/a> as the two discussed Trotter’s new memoir, \u003cem>The Upcycled Self\u003c/em>. The book charts his path both as an artist and an individual; it includes heavy details about his life, including the murders of both his parents, as well a fire he set in his house at the age of six. Trotter, now 52, is clear about his personal maturation process, and how the culture of hip-hop has grown as well.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Trotter appreciates the many subgenres within hip-hop, even if he doesn’t understand them; and that’s because he’s not supposed to. The popular sound of today, drill music, isn’t made for people his age. Trotter, who will be \u003ca href=\"https://www.cityboxoffice.com/ordertickets.asp?p=13941\">in discussion with Jelani Cobb at San Francisco’s City Arts & Lectures\u003c/a> on Saturday, Feb. 24, concluded his point by telling Mosely, “We’ve become our parents and grandparents at this point, you know?”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13939084\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13939084\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/Andre.3000.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"1200\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/Andre.3000.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/Andre.3000-160x240.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/Andre.3000-768x1152.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Andre 3000 attends the GQ Men of the Year Party 2023 VIP dinner at Chateau Marmont on Nov. 16, 2023 in Los Angeles. \u003ccite>(Emma McIntyre/Getty Images)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>As the celebration of what’s widely regarded as hip-hop’s 50th anniversary year comes to an end, I’m waiting for someone to make one of those montages that plays at the end of a movie. You know, where they show a sepia-colored portrait of each prominent character, overlaid with a couple lines about what eventually came of their lives.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>When the cheesy music starts, the first image could be of OutKast, the famed Atlanta duo who showed the world that you can rhyme about Cadillacs and spaceships in the same breath. André 3000, who made his mark at the 1995 Source Awards (“\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jyxaYc9F48Y\">the south got something to say\u003c/a>”), is now a world-traveling flutist who dropped a full-length jazz album. Meanwhile, his former partner in rhyme, Big Boi, a renowned lyricist and actor who played the role of a dope dealer named Marcus in the hit movie \u003cem>ATL\u003c/em>, has become \u003ca href=\"https://www.revolt.tv/article/2022-09-29/213913/big-boi-trends-as-stunned-fans-marvel-over-his-owl-collection/\">an owler\u003c/a>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
"attributes": {
"named": {},
"numeric": []
}
},
{
"type": "component",
"content": "",
"name": "ad",
"attributes": {
"named": {
"label": "fullwidth"
},
"numeric": [
"fullwidth"
]
}
},
{
"type": "contentString",
"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Members of the collective that birthed OutKast, the Dungeon Family, have also gone on to \u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-N4jf6rtyuw\">notable\u003c/a> \u003ca href=\"https://beats-rhymes-lists.com/facts/future-originally-member-atlanta-dungeon-family/\">things\u003c/a>. Just a few years after a \u003ca href=\"https://www.npr.org/sections/therecord/2018/03/26/596988606/killer-mike-apologizes-for-interview-with-nra-claims-it-was-misused\">controversial interview with the NRA\u003c/a>, and forming an odd-couple partnership with Senator Bernie Sanders during his 2020 presidential run, lyricist Killer Mike dropped Michael, one of the most critically acclaimed albums of the year. Even at the big age of 48, folks can still rap.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13828022\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2048px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13828022\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/03/gettyimages-632359900_wide-75cfc86b44dfbaea982eba0457af104c57871411.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"2048\" height=\"1152\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/03/gettyimages-632359900_wide-75cfc86b44dfbaea982eba0457af104c57871411.jpg 2048w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/03/gettyimages-632359900_wide-75cfc86b44dfbaea982eba0457af104c57871411-160x90.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/03/gettyimages-632359900_wide-75cfc86b44dfbaea982eba0457af104c57871411-800x450.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/03/gettyimages-632359900_wide-75cfc86b44dfbaea982eba0457af104c57871411-768x432.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/03/gettyimages-632359900_wide-75cfc86b44dfbaea982eba0457af104c57871411-1020x574.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/03/gettyimages-632359900_wide-75cfc86b44dfbaea982eba0457af104c57871411-1920x1080.jpg 1920w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/03/gettyimages-632359900_wide-75cfc86b44dfbaea982eba0457af104c57871411-1180x664.jpg 1180w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/03/gettyimages-632359900_wide-75cfc86b44dfbaea982eba0457af104c57871411-960x540.jpg 960w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/03/gettyimages-632359900_wide-75cfc86b44dfbaea982eba0457af104c57871411-240x135.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/03/gettyimages-632359900_wide-75cfc86b44dfbaea982eba0457af104c57871411-375x211.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/03/gettyimages-632359900_wide-75cfc86b44dfbaea982eba0457af104c57871411-520x293.jpg 520w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2048px) 100vw, 2048px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Killer Mike performing in Atlanta in 2017. \u003ccite>(David A. Smith/Getty Images)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Speaking of old heads from Atlanta who can still gas a track: Ludacris has entered the chat. In addition to co-starring in the Christmas film \u003cem>\u003ca href=\"https://www.imdb.com/title/tt5608166/\">Dashing Through The Snow\u003c/a>\u003c/em>, creating a charming children’s show called \u003cem>\u003ca href=\"https://www.karmasworld.com/p/1\">Karma’s World\u003c/a>\u003c/em>, and doing \u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c3WaUZhvjK4\">commercials for State Farm Insurance\u003c/a>, at age 46 Luda is reportedly \u003ca href=\"https://people.com/ludacris-to-release-new-music-2024-after-taking-step-back-8405825\">working on an album\u003c/a> for 2024. (\u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/reel/CoL-fnvAlAq/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link\">He still has bars\u003c/a>.)\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>But not everyone is doing well with maturation. Again in Atlanta, rapper T.I.’s life has become a bit of a walking reality show. Despite his large vocabulary and investment in \u003ca href=\"https://www.wsbtv.com/news/local/atlanta/atlanta-rapper-ti-celebrates-opening-his-first-affordable-housing-development/5IYPKMYWTJB33KHSZX3VK6XHN4/\">real estate properties\u003c/a>, T.I., who at the age of 43 recently announced an impending double album and subsequent \u003ca href=\"https://allrapnews.com/news/t-i-to-retire-from-rap-with-final-double-album-featuring-nba-youngboy/\">retirement from rap\u003c/a>, has been the butt of jokes about \u003ca href=\"https://globalnews.ca/news/6214889/ti-daughter-hymen-controversy/\">family issues\u003c/a>. Most recently, the King of the South had to deal with a \u003ca href=\"https://theshaderoom.com/settin-things-straight-t-i-addresses-viral-scuffle-with-son-king-harris/\">recorded altercation with his son\u003c/a>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
"attributes": {
"named": {},
"numeric": []
}
},
{
"type": "component",
"content": "",
"name": "aside",
"attributes": {
"named": {
"postid": "arts_13923938",
"label": ""
},
"numeric": []
}
},
{
"type": "contentString",
"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>Speaking of hip-hop icons and domestic disputes: Diddy.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>After changing his name again, this time to “Brother Love,” and dropping an album titled \u003cem>The Love Album: Off the Grid\u003c/em>, it’s become extremely apparent that 54 year-old Diddy, real name Sean Combs, is the polar opposite of love. Just days after being \u003ca href=\"https://www.npr.org/2023/11/17/1213684443/lawsuit-accuses-sean-diddy-combs-of-trafficking-sexual-assault-and-abuse\">sued by musician and former girlfriend Cassie\u003c/a> for trafficking, rape, assault and more, Combs settled the case out of court, expeditiously. A few days later, Combs, who recently stepped down as Chairman of Revolt TV, was served with additional lawsuits from different women who alleged similar crimes. \u003cem>More money, more problems\u003c/em>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>On the topic of people involved in the mid-’90s East Coast / West Coast beef and the law: \u003ca href=\"https://www.npr.org/2023/09/29/1202716171/tupac-shakur-killing-duane-davis-indicted\">Duane “Keffe D” Davis\u003c/a> is now in prison for charges related to the murder of Tupac Shakur after his arrest earlier this fall. Just a few months later, in an unrelated but relevant story, \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13937563/tupac-shakur-way-oakland-street-renaming\">Tupac Shakur’s name was immortalized\u003c/a> during a street naming ceremony in \u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yCYT3T3UBdw\">the city he got his game from\u003c/a>, Oakland.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13937625\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1920px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13937625\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-TupakShakurWay-27-BL-qut.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1920\" height=\"1280\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-TupakShakurWay-27-BL-qut.jpg 1920w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-TupakShakurWay-27-BL-qut-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-TupakShakurWay-27-BL-qut-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-TupakShakurWay-27-BL-qut-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-TupakShakurWay-27-BL-qut-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-TupakShakurWay-27-BL-qut-1536x1024.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1920px) 100vw, 1920px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">The sign for ‘Tupac Shakur Way’ is unveiled during a renaming ceremony in Oakland, Calif., on Nov. 3, 2023. \u003ccite>(Beth LaBerge/KQED)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Late last year, the City of Oakland also unveiled \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13922616/too-short-way-street-sign-unveiled-oakland\">a street sign recognizing 57 year-old Too Short’s contributions\u003c/a> to the culture in front of his alma mater, Fremont High School. Additionally, while dropping an album, releasing a cookbook, and selling enough liquor to sink a ship, 56 year-old entrepreneur \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13936776/e-40-gets-the-key-to-the-city-of-vallejo-and-a-street-named-in-his-honor\">E-40 got a part of Magazine Street in Vallejo named in his honor\u003c/a>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Staying in the Bay, the Hieroglyphics crew’s Souls of Mischief, who three decades ago famously predicted that they’d be chillin’ until the clock strikes infinity, are doing a lot more than just chillin’. They initially set out to do 93 shows this year to celebrate the 30th anniversary of their song “93 ’Til Infinity.” As of today, they’ve done 117 shows across multiple continents, and they’ve also \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13932471/souls-of-mischief-freestyle-93-til-infinity\">recorded new verses over the “93 ’Til Infinity” instrumental\u003c/a>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Another member of \u003ca href=\"https://www.npr.org/sections/therecord/2013/04/17/177326079/this-was-1993-20-years-ago-i-heard-the-perfect-rap-song\">the class of ’93\u003c/a> from Oakland, 52 year-old Boots Riley, has been on a run. His 2023 TV series about a giant Black man from East Oakland, \u003cem>I’m A Virgo\u003c/em>, has been nominated for multiple awards. Behind the scenes, Boots has continued to point out injustices in our society, with a focus on the predatory nature of capitalism.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13933475\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13933475\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/230818-BOOTS-RILEY-Getty-MM-KQED.jpg\" alt=\"A person in a very tall hat speaks in to a set of microphones at a podium in an outdoor setting.\" width=\"2000\" height=\"1333\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/230818-BOOTS-RILEY-Getty-MM-KQED.jpg 2000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/230818-BOOTS-RILEY-Getty-MM-KQED-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/230818-BOOTS-RILEY-Getty-MM-KQED-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/230818-BOOTS-RILEY-Getty-MM-KQED-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/230818-BOOTS-RILEY-Getty-MM-KQED-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/230818-BOOTS-RILEY-Getty-MM-KQED-1536x1024.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/230818-BOOTS-RILEY-Getty-MM-KQED-1920x1280.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2000px) 100vw, 2000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Boots Riley speaks at the 2023 Writers Guild Of America Strike: Rally And March at Pan Pacific Park on June 21, 2023 in Los Angeles. \u003ccite>(Momodu Mansaray/Getty Images)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>On the subject of early ’90s West Coast MCs who once used their music to give the middle finger to Uncle Sam before turning to film, there’s Ice Cube. The good news is that Cube, the 54 year-old founder of the Big3 basketball league, is still making music and movies, just as he did three decades ago. The bad news? \u003ca href=\"https://www.vibe.com/news/entertainment/ice-cube-tucker-carlson-interview-many-fans-disappointed-1234775390/\">He’s also giving tours of the hood to conservative white folks\u003c/a>. Then again, that’s kind of what mainstream “gangsta rappers” have always done, right?\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Politics hasn’t always been the most welcoming arena for hip-hop artists, but just this past week, 53 year-old \u003ca href=\"https://www.npr.org/2023/12/04/1215901880/queen-latifah-billy-crystal-and-others-celebrated-at-kennedy-center-honors\">Queen Latifah\u003c/a> received praise from President Joe Biden as she became the first female rap artist to receive the prestigious Kennedy Center Honor.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>While we’re awarding artists who’ve done the work and then some, let’s talk about the ever-influential \u003ca href=\"https://www.rockhall.com/inductees/missy-elliott?gad_source=1&gclid=Cj0KCQiAsburBhCIARIsAExmsu7TtF4zNeILr0texP3h8TsAue-XEitgt7gIgGsbddEAcVvheVatO24aAokcEALw_wcB\">Missy Elliott\u003c/a>, who at the age of 52 was inducted into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame this year. (68 year-old DJ Kool Herc, a founding father of hip-hop, joined her as a 2023 inductee.)\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13915629\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2560px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13915629\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2022/06/GettyImages-57095278-scaled.jpg\" alt=\"A close-up of a Black woman's face with colorful eyeliner, as she sings into a microphone\" width=\"2560\" height=\"1725\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2022/06/GettyImages-57095278-scaled.jpg 2560w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2022/06/GettyImages-57095278-800x539.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2022/06/GettyImages-57095278-1020x687.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2022/06/GettyImages-57095278-160x108.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2022/06/GettyImages-57095278-768x518.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2022/06/GettyImages-57095278-1536x1035.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2022/06/GettyImages-57095278-2048x1380.jpg 2048w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2022/06/GettyImages-57095278-1920x1294.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2560px) 100vw, 2560px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Lauryn Hill has written about feeling pressured to choose between her career and motherhood. \u003ccite>(Paul Hawthorne/Getty Images)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Despite the revelation that Fugees member \u003ca href=\"https://www.npr.org/2023/04/26/1172368058/former-fugees-musician-pras-michel-found-guilty-of-10-criminal-charges\">Pras was once a federal agent\u003c/a>, that didn’t stop 48 year-old Lauryn Hill and the crew from reuniting for a few shows around the country, \u003ca href=\"https://www.sfchronicle.com/entertainment/article/lauryn-hill-oakland-concert-18467645.php\">including one last month in Oakland\u003c/a>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>There are veteran artists doing completely unforeseen things, like \u003ca href=\"https://www.xxlmag.com/redman-licensed-skydiver/\">Redman (age 53) becoming a licensed skydiver\u003c/a> or \u003ca href=\"https://www.complex.com/music/a/jaelaniturnerwilliams/twista-raps-overnight-celebrity-over-gun-shots\">Twista (age 50) teaching firearm safety and rapping to the sound of bullets flying\u003c/a> at a shooting range. And then there are artists continuing what they’ve been doing, just at a higher level. Method Man is a certified actor who still periodically drops a verse here and there, and at the age of 52 \u003ca href=\"https://www.menshealth.com/health/a44665280/method-man-hip-hop-50-interview/\">moonlights as a sex symbol\u003c/a>. Lil Kim, who at 49 has her own claim as a sex symbol, just \u003ca href=\"https://www.porchlightbooks.com/product/queen-bee_4--lil-kim\">penned a memoir\u003c/a> that’s set to release next year. Texas OG Bun B, a 50 year-old who \u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UMCSP5yNLQk\">knows his way around the kitchen\u003c/a>, has opened a restaurant called \u003ca href=\"https://www.houstonpublicmedia.org/articles/arts-culture/food/2023/06/07/453856/bun-bs-trill-burgers-launches-first-brick-and-mortar-location-in-houston/\">Trill Burgers\u003c/a>. The ever-fashionable megaproducer Pharrell, who doesn’t age despite government records showing he’s 50, is now \u003ca href=\"https://www.nytimes.com/2023/06/18/style/louis-vuitton-menswear-pharrell-williams-louis-vuittons.html\">designing for Louis Vuitton\u003c/a>. And 53 year-old MC Lyte, whose voice dropped rock-heavy flows when hip-hop was in its nascent form and has since gone on to host award shows, is now using her voice to talk to the \u003ca href=\"https://afrotech.com/mc-lyte-supporting-black-girls-in-tech/\">next generation of Black girls interested in coding\u003c/a>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13932398\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2560px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13932398\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/07/Rakim-2-scaled.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"2560\" height=\"1920\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/07/Rakim-2-scaled.jpg 2560w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/07/Rakim-2-800x600.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/07/Rakim-2-1020x765.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/07/Rakim-2-160x120.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/07/Rakim-2-768x576.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/07/Rakim-2-1536x1152.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/07/Rakim-2-2048x1536.jpg 2048w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/07/Rakim-2-1920x1440.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2560px) 100vw, 2560px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Rakim performs at Blue Note Jazz Festival on Sunday, July 30, 2023. \u003ccite>(Eric Arnold)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Let’s take a second to pause, and acknowledge the many hip-hop artists who’ve died at a young age due to poor health. And follow that by celebrating and supporting the legends who are living, like \u003ca href=\"https://www.vibe.com/gallery/paid-in-full-foundations-inaugural-hip-hop-grandmaster-awards-rakim-nas-1234814725/\">Scarface (53) and Rakim (55)\u003c/a>, who both recently received healthcare benefits and financial support from the Paid in Full Foundation. Health concerns for our aging icons are also part of the reason folks’ ears perked up when 52 year-old Snoop Dogg posted on social media that he’s “done with smoke.” And, because he’s Snoop, we weren’t surprised when the news turned out to be a commercial for \u003ca href=\"https://people.com/snoop-dogg-not-giving-up-weed-announces-collaboration-with-smokeless-fire-pit-brand-8404736\">a smoke-free fire pit\u003c/a>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
"attributes": {
"named": {},
"numeric": []
}
},
{
"type": "component",
"content": "",
"name": "aside",
"attributes": {
"named": {
"postid": "arts_13934874",
"label": ""
},
"numeric": []
}
},
{
"type": "contentString",
"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>In this 50th year of hip-hop, we’re grateful to see the resolution of feuds between artists. \u003ca href=\"https://www.vibe.com/news/entertainment/camron-mase-sign-talk-show-deal-1234782595/\">Ma$e (48) and Cam’ron (47) reunited\u003c/a> and created “It Is What It Is,” a talk show that’s full of laughs and insight on current events. North Carolina’s hip-hop duo Little Brother recently released a documentary film, \u003cem>\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H_LQmpx5l-E\">May the Lord Watch: The Little Brother Story\u003c/a>\u003c/em>, highlighting their friendship’s trajectory. And on the more romantic side of reunions, Nelly and Ashanti got back together, and are expecting their first child.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>That’s a good segue to the news that at the age of 48, the first woman to go platinum as a rap artist, Da Brat, \u003ca href=\"https://www.ajc.com/life/radiotvtalk-blog/da-brat-amazed-and-grateful-for-baby-son-at-age-48/QLNVH4K4I5FWRLJ6FDTNEQAMVU/\">just gave birth to a baby boy\u003c/a>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>You never thought that hip-hop would take it this far.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13939085\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1400px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13939085\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/Juvenile.TinyDesk.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1400\" height=\"787\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/Juvenile.TinyDesk.jpg 1400w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/Juvenile.TinyDesk-800x450.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/Juvenile.TinyDesk-1020x573.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/Juvenile.TinyDesk-160x90.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/Juvenile.TinyDesk-768x432.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1400px) 100vw, 1400px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Juvenile performs with Mannie Fresh and an all-star band at the NPR offices in a Tiny Desk Concert. \u003ccite>(Catie Dull/NPR)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Neither could we have imagined that at the age 45, Trina, Ms. “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BvsPwwphxrg\">Whoop-whoop, pull over, that ass is too fat\u003c/a>,” would be performing at the offices of National Public Radio. Nor \u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kes2P4IC2bQ\">Mr. Back That Azz Up\u003c/a>, a.k.a. Juvenile (48), for that matter. But yes, both happened this year.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>A half-century since hip-hop started and there are many reasons to rejoice, despite some of the unsavory news. As fans, we’re appreciative that the catalogs of Young Jeezy and De La Soul are now on streaming sites. And we’re equally appreciative that there’s new music from the likes of J.Cole, Lil Wayne and Nas, who at age 50, has dropped multiple award-winning albums in the past five years and had a resurrection unlike anyone else in the game—with the possible exception of Black Thought.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>When Tariq Trotter isn’t rocking as a part of the house band for \u003cem>Late Night with Jimmy Fallon\u003c/em>, he’s writing off-Broadway plays and acting in films. But don’t think for a second he can’t spit a \u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=prmQgSpV3fA\">scorching freestyle\u003c/a>, too. He’s dropped verses on projects with younger rappers that show he hasn’t lost a step. And he’s put out a few highly acclaimed projects over the past couple years — arguably some of his best work — with music that speaks to middle-aged hip-hop heads.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13840236\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13840236\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/09/MG_9583.jpg\" alt=\"Black Thought plays Hiero Day in Oakland on Monday, September 3, 2018.\" width=\"800\" height=\"533\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/09/MG_9583.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/09/MG_9583-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/09/MG_9583-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/09/MG_9583-240x160.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/09/MG_9583-375x250.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/09/MG_9583-520x346.jpg 520w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Black Thought plays Hiero Day in Oakland on Monday, September 3, 2018. \u003ccite>(Estefany Gonzalez )\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>During his interview with NPR, Black Thought talked about maturing, and that he feels more comfortable sharing more intimate details of his life. “As artists, there’s a dance, there’s a negotiation that takes place,” Trotter told Mosely. “But it’s the sort of thing that I was holding on to for the right moment — you know what I mean? For when it made the most sense. And that’s right now.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>And that right there is all the more reason to appreciate the aging process.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter size-full wp-image-12127869\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"78\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-400x39.jpg 400w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-768x75.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
"attributes": {
"named": {},
"numeric": []
}
},
{
"type": "component",
"content": "",
"name": "ad",
"attributes": {
"named": {
"label": "floatright"
},
"numeric": [
"floatright"
]
}
},
{
"type": "contentString",
"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>Black Thought appears in discussion with Jelani Cobb on Saturday, Feb. 24, at the Sydney Goldstein Theatre in San Francisco as part of City Arts & Lectures. \u003ca href=\"https://www.cityboxoffice.com/ordertickets.asp?p=13941\">Details and ticket info here\u003c/a>. \u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>",
"attributes": {
"named": {},
"numeric": []
}
}
],
"link": "/arts/13939056/the-maturation-of-your-favorite-artists-and-a-look-back-at-hip-hop-50",
"authors": [
"11491"
],
"categories": [
"arts_1",
"arts_2303",
"arts_69"
],
"tags": [
"arts_11374",
"arts_1998",
"arts_1601",
"arts_10278",
"arts_2284",
"arts_831",
"arts_1143",
"arts_21785",
"arts_3478",
"arts_4269",
"arts_3800"
],
"featImg": "arts_13329186",
"label": "arts"
},
"arts_13936776": {
"type": "posts",
"id": "arts_13936776",
"meta": {
"index": "posts_1716263798",
"site": "arts",
"id": "13936776",
"score": null,
"sort": [
1697936103000
]
},
"parent": 0,
"labelTerm": {
"site": "arts"
},
"blocks": [],
"publishDate": 1697936103,
"format": "standard",
"title": "E-40 Gets the Key to the City of Vallejo and a Street Named in His Honor",
"headTitle": "E-40 Gets the Key to the City of Vallejo and a Street Named in His Honor | KQED",
"content": "\u003cp>On Saturday, Vallejo Mayor Robert McConnell handed the key to the city to one of its biggest musical icons: E-40.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“I didn’t even know anywhere else. I only knew 4 blocks. I was just a ghetto child. I never thought I’d be selling tapes out of the trunk of the car over at M&M liquor to having my \u003cem>own\u003c/em> liquor,” said Earl Stevens, aka E-40, at the ceremony on a stretch of Magazine Street that now bears the honorary street sign E-40 Way. It marks the neighborhood where he was raised and began his chart-topping career.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13936795\" class=\"wp-caption alignnone\" style=\"max-width: 2000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"wp-image-13936795 size-full\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-74-MV-KQED.jpg\" alt=\"Earl “E-40” Stevens greets community members after the honorary ceremony on Oct. 21, 2023 in Vallejo, Calif.\" width=\"2000\" height=\"1334\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-74-MV-KQED.jpg 2000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-74-MV-KQED-800x534.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-74-MV-KQED-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-74-MV-KQED-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-74-MV-KQED-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-74-MV-KQED-1536x1025.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-74-MV-KQED-1920x1281.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2000px) 100vw, 2000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Earl ‘E-40’ Stevens greets community members after the honorary ceremony on Oct. 21, 2023 in Vallejo. \u003ccite>(Michaela Vatcheva for KQED)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>“You can see the type of talent this city has produced over many many decades,” said Mayor McConnell, addressing the crowd of hundreds that gathered for the ceremony. “Continuously when you move throughout the Bay Area and when you live in other cities, you meet people who say ‘I grew up and I lived in Vallejo,’ and they’re very proud of it.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“So we want to acknowledge his success, and more importantly, we want to acknowledge his contributions to the city,” added McConnell.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13936788\" class=\"wp-caption alignnone\" style=\"max-width: 2000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"wp-image-13936788 size-full\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-8-MV-KQED.jpg\" alt=\"Vallejo High School cheerleaders perform at Earl “E-40” Stevens’ honorary ceremony on Oct. 21, 2023 in Vallejo, Calif.\" width=\"2000\" height=\"1334\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-8-MV-KQED.jpg 2000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-8-MV-KQED-800x534.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-8-MV-KQED-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-8-MV-KQED-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-8-MV-KQED-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-8-MV-KQED-1536x1025.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-8-MV-KQED-1920x1281.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2000px) 100vw, 2000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Vallejo High School cheerleaders perform at Earl ‘E-40’ Stevens’ honorary ceremony, with E-40 (right) sitting beside Vallejo Mayor Robert McConnell on stage. \u003ccite>(Michaela Vatcheva for KQED)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Oakland-born hip-hop and hyphy artist Mistah F.A.B., master of ceremonies at the event, said E-40 was somebody he grew up idolizing as an artist and as a person.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“Today is about being here for somebody that has opened up doors, somebody that has pioneered and championed what it is like to be not only an artist, but to be an entrepreneur, to be a father, to be a friend, to be a family member, to be a great business man,” said Mistah F.A.B., who is also a community organizer, entrepreneur and activist. “I think that you guys are just as proud as we are and we’re happy. … This is a beautiful moment, man.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13936789\" class=\"wp-caption alignnone\" style=\"max-width: 2000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"wp-image-13936789 size-full\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-25-MV-KQED.jpg\" alt=\"Earl “E-40” Stevens’s family members sit in the audience during the honorary ceremony on Oct. 21, 2023 in Vallejo, Calif.\" width=\"2000\" height=\"1334\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-25-MV-KQED.jpg 2000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-25-MV-KQED-800x534.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-25-MV-KQED-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-25-MV-KQED-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-25-MV-KQED-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-25-MV-KQED-1536x1025.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-25-MV-KQED-1920x1281.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2000px) 100vw, 2000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Earl ‘E-40’ Stevens’s family members sit in the audience during the honorary ceremony. \u003ccite>(Michaela Vatcheva for KQED)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>E-40 is a name practically synonymous with \u003ca href=\"http://kqed.org/bayareahiphop\">Bay Area hip-hop\u003c/a>, and he’s enjoyed impressive career longevity rarely seen in rap. He got his start in the late ’80s as a member of The Click, a group that also featured his sister Suga-T, brother D-Shot and cousin B-Legit.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Along with peers like Too Short, E-40 set the standard for independent music distribution by selling tapes “out the trunk.” His label Sick Wid It Records later signed a distribution deal with Jive, and The Click’s second album, 1995’s \u003cem>Game Related\u003c/em>, peaked at No. 21.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13936794\" class=\"wp-caption alignnone\" style=\"max-width: 2000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"wp-image-13936794 size-full\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-70-MV-KQED.jpg\" alt=\"Earl “E-40” Stevens unveils the sign of the renamed Magazine St, aka E-40 Way, during the honorary ceremony on Oct. 21, 2023 in Vallejo, Calif.\" width=\"2000\" height=\"1334\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-70-MV-KQED.jpg 2000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-70-MV-KQED-800x534.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-70-MV-KQED-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-70-MV-KQED-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-70-MV-KQED-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-70-MV-KQED-1536x1025.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-70-MV-KQED-1920x1281.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2000px) 100vw, 2000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Earl ‘E-40’ Stevens unveils the sign of the renamed Magazine St, aka E-40 Way, during the honorary ceremony. \u003ccite>(Michaela Vatcheva for KQED)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>“It’s a good opportunity for the kids that are coming up here, to build something positive for the children coming up in Vallejo,” said Vallejo resident Rosalyn Robinson. “I think it’s a monumental event, giving Vallejo that credit that’s well needed. E-40 has been in the game for four decades, and this celebration is way past.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[aside postID=arts_13935408 hero='https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/09/HKGT-part-2-web-image-1020x574.png']In 1993, E-40 launched his solo career with the album \u003cem>Federal\u003c/em> and continued collaborating with members of The Click on hits like 1995’s “Sprinkle Me” featuring Suga-T as his national profile grew. He’s credited with inventing and popularizing many Bay Area slang terms — such as “broccoli” for cannabis, “fasheezy” and “flamboastin’.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>E-40’s hit-making streak continued with the 2006 smash “Tell Me When To Go,” which came to define hyphy — the local, hard-partying rap subculture — for the rest of the country. His 2014 song “Choices” became a Golden State Warriors anthem that amped up the team during its championship games.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13936792\" class=\"wp-caption alignnone\" style=\"max-width: 2000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"wp-image-13936792 size-full\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-53-MV-KQED.jpg\" alt=\"Earl “E-40” Stevens’s son, Earl Stevens Jr. talks about his father’s legacy during the honorary ceremony on Oct. 21, 2023 in Vallejo, Calif.\" width=\"2000\" height=\"1334\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-53-MV-KQED.jpg 2000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-53-MV-KQED-800x534.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-53-MV-KQED-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-53-MV-KQED-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-53-MV-KQED-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-53-MV-KQED-1536x1025.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-53-MV-KQED-1920x1281.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2000px) 100vw, 2000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Earl ‘E-40’ Stevens’s son, Earl Stevens Jr. talks about his father’s legacy during the honorary ceremony. \u003ccite>(Michaela Vatcheva for KQED)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Dennis Lastra, who grew up next-door to Stevens in his grandmother’s house, said despite all the success and the accomplishments, E-40 was always humble and always made sure to visit them whenever he was in Vallejo.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“I’m just so proud of him, man. Because like, just from day one, I seen her struggle as a single mother, and she raised her kids,” said Lastra of Earl Stevens’ mother, who raised him and his siblings as a single parent. “\u003cb>\u003c/b>I give all props to that man. … You feel that gratitude that he has. It’s just humbling to hear that from someone that has achieved so much. … And the hard way, it wasn’t the easy way.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13936791\" class=\"wp-caption alignnone\" style=\"max-width: 2000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"wp-image-13936791 size-full\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-34-MV-KQED.jpg\" alt=\"E-40 Way seen on Oct. 21, 2023 in Vallejo, Calif.\" width=\"2000\" height=\"1334\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-34-MV-KQED.jpg 2000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-34-MV-KQED-800x534.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-34-MV-KQED-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-34-MV-KQED-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-34-MV-KQED-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-34-MV-KQED-1536x1025.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-34-MV-KQED-1920x1281.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2000px) 100vw, 2000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">E-40 Way in Vallejo. \u003ccite>(Michaela Vatcheva for KQED)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>In recent years, E-40 collaborated with younger Bay Area artists like P-Lo and national rap stars, including Snoop Dogg, T.I. and Ice Cube. While continuing to make music, he’s shifted his energy toward his philanthropy and liquor and food businesses. He has a forthcoming cookbook with Snoop Dogg, \u003cem>\u003ca href=\"https://www.chroniclebooks.com/products/untitled-snoop-cookbook-2\">Goon With the Spoon\u003c/a>\u003c/em>, out Nov. 14 via Chronicle Books.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13936790\" class=\"wp-caption alignnone\" style=\"max-width: 2000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"wp-image-13936790 size-full\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-33-MV-KQED.jpg\" alt=\"Earl “E-40” Stevens speaks during the honorary ceremony on Oct. 21, 2023 in Vallejo, Calif.\" width=\"2000\" height=\"1334\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-33-MV-KQED.jpg 2000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-33-MV-KQED-800x534.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-33-MV-KQED-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-33-MV-KQED-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-33-MV-KQED-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-33-MV-KQED-1536x1025.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-33-MV-KQED-1920x1281.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2000px) 100vw, 2000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Earl ‘E-40’ Stevens speaks during the honorary ceremony. \u003ccite>(Michaela Vatcheva for KQED)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>“E-40 is a trailblazer and he’s opened up many doors for young people to walk through,” said Rosalyn Robinson. “He’s very humble, always been humble. He’s always been loyal. And I think it’s important for the kids to see, and it’s important for events like this to keep happening.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>KQED’s Attila Pelit contributed to this story.\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n",
"stats": {
"hasVideo": false,
"hasChartOrMap": false,
"hasAudio": false,
"hasPolis": false,
"wordCount": 1071,
"hasGoogleForm": false,
"hasGallery": false,
"hasHearkenModule": false,
"iframeSrcs": [],
"paragraphCount": 18
},
"modified": 1705003199,
"excerpt": "Vallejo's mayor unveiled E-40 Way on Magazine Street, honoring the neighborhood where the Bay Area rap legend was raised and began his chart-topping career.",
"headData": {
"twImgId": "",
"twTitle": "",
"ogTitle": "",
"ogImgId": "",
"twDescription": "",
"description": "Vallejo's mayor unveiled E-40 Way on Magazine Street, honoring the neighborhood where the Bay Area rap legend was raised and began his chart-topping career.",
"title": "E-40 Gets the Key to the City of Vallejo and a Street Named in His Honor | KQED",
"ogDescription": "",
"schema": {
"@context": "https://schema.org",
"@type": "Article",
"headline": "E-40 Gets the Key to the City of Vallejo and a Street Named in His Honor",
"datePublished": "2023-10-21T17:55:03-07:00",
"dateModified": "2024-01-11T11:59:59-08:00",
"image": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/02/KQED-OG-Image@1x.png"
}
},
"guestAuthors": [],
"slug": "e-40-gets-the-key-to-the-city-of-vallejo-and-a-street-named-in-his-honor",
"status": "publish",
"templateType": "standard",
"audioUrl": "https://traffic.omny.fm/d/clips/0af137ef-751e-4b19-a055-aaef00d2d578/ffca7e9f-6831-41c5-bcaf-aaef00f5a073/fc9fa481-8444-4a95-a438-b0a3010342c4/audio.mp3?download=true",
"nprByline": "\u003ca>Nastia Voynovskaya\u003c/a>, \u003ca>Billy Cruz\u003c/a>",
"excludeFromSiteSearch": "Include",
"featuredImageType": "standard",
"sticky": false,
"showOnAuthorArchivePages": "No",
"articleAge": "0",
"path": "/arts/13936776/e-40-gets-the-key-to-the-city-of-vallejo-and-a-street-named-in-his-honor",
"audioTrackLength": null,
"parsedContent": [
{
"type": "contentString",
"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp>On Saturday, Vallejo Mayor Robert McConnell handed the key to the city to one of its biggest musical icons: E-40.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“I didn’t even know anywhere else. I only knew 4 blocks. I was just a ghetto child. I never thought I’d be selling tapes out of the trunk of the car over at M&M liquor to having my \u003cem>own\u003c/em> liquor,” said Earl Stevens, aka E-40, at the ceremony on a stretch of Magazine Street that now bears the honorary street sign E-40 Way. It marks the neighborhood where he was raised and began his chart-topping career.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13936795\" class=\"wp-caption alignnone\" style=\"max-width: 2000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"wp-image-13936795 size-full\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-74-MV-KQED.jpg\" alt=\"Earl “E-40” Stevens greets community members after the honorary ceremony on Oct. 21, 2023 in Vallejo, Calif.\" width=\"2000\" height=\"1334\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-74-MV-KQED.jpg 2000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-74-MV-KQED-800x534.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-74-MV-KQED-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-74-MV-KQED-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-74-MV-KQED-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-74-MV-KQED-1536x1025.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-74-MV-KQED-1920x1281.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2000px) 100vw, 2000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Earl ‘E-40’ Stevens greets community members after the honorary ceremony on Oct. 21, 2023 in Vallejo. \u003ccite>(Michaela Vatcheva for KQED)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>“You can see the type of talent this city has produced over many many decades,” said Mayor McConnell, addressing the crowd of hundreds that gathered for the ceremony. “Continuously when you move throughout the Bay Area and when you live in other cities, you meet people who say ‘I grew up and I lived in Vallejo,’ and they’re very proud of it.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“So we want to acknowledge his success, and more importantly, we want to acknowledge his contributions to the city,” added McConnell.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13936788\" class=\"wp-caption alignnone\" style=\"max-width: 2000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"wp-image-13936788 size-full\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-8-MV-KQED.jpg\" alt=\"Vallejo High School cheerleaders perform at Earl “E-40” Stevens’ honorary ceremony on Oct. 21, 2023 in Vallejo, Calif.\" width=\"2000\" height=\"1334\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-8-MV-KQED.jpg 2000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-8-MV-KQED-800x534.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-8-MV-KQED-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-8-MV-KQED-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-8-MV-KQED-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-8-MV-KQED-1536x1025.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-8-MV-KQED-1920x1281.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2000px) 100vw, 2000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Vallejo High School cheerleaders perform at Earl ‘E-40’ Stevens’ honorary ceremony, with E-40 (right) sitting beside Vallejo Mayor Robert McConnell on stage. \u003ccite>(Michaela Vatcheva for KQED)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Oakland-born hip-hop and hyphy artist Mistah F.A.B., master of ceremonies at the event, said E-40 was somebody he grew up idolizing as an artist and as a person.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“Today is about being here for somebody that has opened up doors, somebody that has pioneered and championed what it is like to be not only an artist, but to be an entrepreneur, to be a father, to be a friend, to be a family member, to be a great business man,” said Mistah F.A.B., who is also a community organizer, entrepreneur and activist. “I think that you guys are just as proud as we are and we’re happy. … This is a beautiful moment, man.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13936789\" class=\"wp-caption alignnone\" style=\"max-width: 2000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"wp-image-13936789 size-full\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-25-MV-KQED.jpg\" alt=\"Earl “E-40” Stevens’s family members sit in the audience during the honorary ceremony on Oct. 21, 2023 in Vallejo, Calif.\" width=\"2000\" height=\"1334\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-25-MV-KQED.jpg 2000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-25-MV-KQED-800x534.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-25-MV-KQED-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-25-MV-KQED-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-25-MV-KQED-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-25-MV-KQED-1536x1025.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-25-MV-KQED-1920x1281.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2000px) 100vw, 2000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Earl ‘E-40’ Stevens’s family members sit in the audience during the honorary ceremony. \u003ccite>(Michaela Vatcheva for KQED)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>E-40 is a name practically synonymous with \u003ca href=\"http://kqed.org/bayareahiphop\">Bay Area hip-hop\u003c/a>, and he’s enjoyed impressive career longevity rarely seen in rap. He got his start in the late ’80s as a member of The Click, a group that also featured his sister Suga-T, brother D-Shot and cousin B-Legit.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Along with peers like Too Short, E-40 set the standard for independent music distribution by selling tapes “out the trunk.” His label Sick Wid It Records later signed a distribution deal with Jive, and The Click’s second album, 1995’s \u003cem>Game Related\u003c/em>, peaked at No. 21.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13936794\" class=\"wp-caption alignnone\" style=\"max-width: 2000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"wp-image-13936794 size-full\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-70-MV-KQED.jpg\" alt=\"Earl “E-40” Stevens unveils the sign of the renamed Magazine St, aka E-40 Way, during the honorary ceremony on Oct. 21, 2023 in Vallejo, Calif.\" width=\"2000\" height=\"1334\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-70-MV-KQED.jpg 2000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-70-MV-KQED-800x534.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-70-MV-KQED-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-70-MV-KQED-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-70-MV-KQED-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-70-MV-KQED-1536x1025.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-70-MV-KQED-1920x1281.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2000px) 100vw, 2000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Earl ‘E-40’ Stevens unveils the sign of the renamed Magazine St, aka E-40 Way, during the honorary ceremony. \u003ccite>(Michaela Vatcheva for KQED)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>“It’s a good opportunity for the kids that are coming up here, to build something positive for the children coming up in Vallejo,” said Vallejo resident Rosalyn Robinson. “I think it’s a monumental event, giving Vallejo that credit that’s well needed. E-40 has been in the game for four decades, and this celebration is way past.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
"attributes": {
"named": {},
"numeric": []
}
},
{
"type": "component",
"content": "",
"name": "aside",
"attributes": {
"named": {
"postid": "arts_13935408",
"hero": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/09/HKGT-part-2-web-image-1020x574.png",
"label": ""
},
"numeric": []
}
},
{
"type": "contentString",
"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>In 1993, E-40 launched his solo career with the album \u003cem>Federal\u003c/em> and continued collaborating with members of The Click on hits like 1995’s “Sprinkle Me” featuring Suga-T as his national profile grew. He’s credited with inventing and popularizing many Bay Area slang terms — such as “broccoli” for cannabis, “fasheezy” and “flamboastin’.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>E-40’s hit-making streak continued with the 2006 smash “Tell Me When To Go,” which came to define hyphy — the local, hard-partying rap subculture — for the rest of the country. His 2014 song “Choices” became a Golden State Warriors anthem that amped up the team during its championship games.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13936792\" class=\"wp-caption alignnone\" style=\"max-width: 2000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"wp-image-13936792 size-full\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-53-MV-KQED.jpg\" alt=\"Earl “E-40” Stevens’s son, Earl Stevens Jr. talks about his father’s legacy during the honorary ceremony on Oct. 21, 2023 in Vallejo, Calif.\" width=\"2000\" height=\"1334\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-53-MV-KQED.jpg 2000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-53-MV-KQED-800x534.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-53-MV-KQED-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-53-MV-KQED-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-53-MV-KQED-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-53-MV-KQED-1536x1025.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-53-MV-KQED-1920x1281.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2000px) 100vw, 2000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Earl ‘E-40’ Stevens’s son, Earl Stevens Jr. talks about his father’s legacy during the honorary ceremony. \u003ccite>(Michaela Vatcheva for KQED)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Dennis Lastra, who grew up next-door to Stevens in his grandmother’s house, said despite all the success and the accomplishments, E-40 was always humble and always made sure to visit them whenever he was in Vallejo.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“I’m just so proud of him, man. Because like, just from day one, I seen her struggle as a single mother, and she raised her kids,” said Lastra of Earl Stevens’ mother, who raised him and his siblings as a single parent. “\u003cb>\u003c/b>I give all props to that man. … You feel that gratitude that he has. It’s just humbling to hear that from someone that has achieved so much. … And the hard way, it wasn’t the easy way.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13936791\" class=\"wp-caption alignnone\" style=\"max-width: 2000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"wp-image-13936791 size-full\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-34-MV-KQED.jpg\" alt=\"E-40 Way seen on Oct. 21, 2023 in Vallejo, Calif.\" width=\"2000\" height=\"1334\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-34-MV-KQED.jpg 2000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-34-MV-KQED-800x534.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-34-MV-KQED-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-34-MV-KQED-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-34-MV-KQED-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-34-MV-KQED-1536x1025.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-34-MV-KQED-1920x1281.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2000px) 100vw, 2000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">E-40 Way in Vallejo. \u003ccite>(Michaela Vatcheva for KQED)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>In recent years, E-40 collaborated with younger Bay Area artists like P-Lo and national rap stars, including Snoop Dogg, T.I. and Ice Cube. While continuing to make music, he’s shifted his energy toward his philanthropy and liquor and food businesses. He has a forthcoming cookbook with Snoop Dogg, \u003cem>\u003ca href=\"https://www.chroniclebooks.com/products/untitled-snoop-cookbook-2\">Goon With the Spoon\u003c/a>\u003c/em>, out Nov. 14 via Chronicle Books.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13936790\" class=\"wp-caption alignnone\" style=\"max-width: 2000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"wp-image-13936790 size-full\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-33-MV-KQED.jpg\" alt=\"Earl “E-40” Stevens speaks during the honorary ceremony on Oct. 21, 2023 in Vallejo, Calif.\" width=\"2000\" height=\"1334\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-33-MV-KQED.jpg 2000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-33-MV-KQED-800x534.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-33-MV-KQED-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-33-MV-KQED-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-33-MV-KQED-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-33-MV-KQED-1536x1025.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/E-40-33-MV-KQED-1920x1281.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2000px) 100vw, 2000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Earl ‘E-40’ Stevens speaks during the honorary ceremony. \u003ccite>(Michaela Vatcheva for KQED)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>“E-40 is a trailblazer and he’s opened up many doors for young people to walk through,” said Rosalyn Robinson. “He’s very humble, always been humble. He’s always been loyal. And I think it’s important for the kids to see, and it’s important for events like this to keep happening.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>KQED’s Attila Pelit contributed to this story.\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
"attributes": {
"named": {},
"numeric": []
}
},
{
"type": "component",
"content": "",
"name": "ad",
"attributes": {
"named": {
"label": "fullwidth"
},
"numeric": [
"fullwidth"
]
}
},
{
"type": "contentString",
"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>",
"attributes": {
"named": {},
"numeric": []
}
}
],
"link": "/arts/13936776/e-40-gets-the-key-to-the-city-of-vallejo-and-a-street-named-in-his-honor",
"authors": [
"byline_arts_13936776"
],
"categories": [
"arts_1",
"arts_69",
"arts_235"
],
"tags": [
"arts_1331",
"arts_8505",
"arts_1601",
"arts_10278",
"arts_10422",
"arts_16372",
"arts_831",
"arts_11439",
"arts_6975",
"arts_14988",
"arts_3478",
"arts_3800"
],
"featImg": "arts_13936796",
"label": "arts"
},
"arts_13935441": {
"type": "posts",
"id": "arts_13935441",
"meta": {
"index": "posts_1716263798",
"site": "arts",
"id": "13935441",
"score": null,
"sort": [
1695842403000
]
},
"parent": 0,
"labelTerm": {
"site": "arts",
"term": 140
},
"blocks": [],
"publishDate": 1695842403,
"format": "standard",
"title": "Too Short, Sway Calloway and Chuy Gomez Host EMPIRE’s Hip-Hop 50 Celebration",
"headTitle": "Too Short, Sway Calloway and Chuy Gomez Host EMPIRE’s Hip-Hop 50 Celebration | KQED",
"content": "\u003cp>San Francisco record label \u003ca href=\"https://empi.re/\">EMPIRE\u003c/a> has a track record of championing homegrown talent while also \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/ourturbulentdecade/2012-empire-brought-the-music-industry-back-to-san-francisco\">connecting Bay Area artists\u003c/a> to bigger opportunities on the national, and even international, stage. So its no surprise that the label is putting on its own celebration of 50 years of hip-hop culture. The party will take place on \u003ca href=\"https://www.seetickets.us/event/empire-salutes-50-years-of-hip-hop/569634\">Oct. 15 at SVN West in San Francisco\u003c/a>, hosted by Too Short and legendary radio personalities Chuy Gomez and Sway Calloway. [aside label='More Hip-Hop 50 Coverage' postid='arts_13934715,arts_13933590']\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Too Short began his career in the early ’80s, putting out custom homemade tapes, and by the end of the decade he ascended to national stardom with lyrics about Oakland street life and \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/whatspimpin\">pimp culture\u003c/a>. Now \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/bayareahiphop\">Bay Area hip-hop\u003c/a> royalty, he’s been a source of both local \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13922616/too-short-way-street-sign-unveiled-oakland\">pride\u003c/a> and \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13930867/whats-pimpin-culture-hip-hop-rap-sexism-misogynoir-black-women\">controversy\u003c/a> over his influential, decades-long career.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Chuy Gomez became a voice for the Bay Area hip-hop scene as a host on the California Music Channel, and later was a fixture at 106 KMEL for 20 years. Sway Calloway, meanwhile, began his career as a rapper and made a name for himself as a broadcaster with his syndicated \u003cem>Wake Up Show\u003c/em> in the ’90s. Since 2011, he’s hosted the influential \u003cem>Sway in the Morning \u003c/em>on SiriusXM.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Too Short, Gomez and Calloway will lead the festivities at EMPIRE’s celebration, which features DJs Steady, Cream of Beat (Mindmotion and DJ Ivan), Big Von, Scotty Fox and more. The event also promises food trucks, artist vendors, break dancers, a cypher and more.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter size-full wp-image-11687704\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2016/06/Turntable.Break_.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"60\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/06/Turntable.Break_.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/06/Turntable.Break_-400x30.jpg 400w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/06/Turntable.Break_-768x58.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>‘EMPIRE Salutes 50 Years of Hip-Hop’ takes place at SVN West (10 South Van Ness Ave., San Francisco) on Oct. 15. \u003ca href=\"https://www.seetickets.us/event/empire-salutes-50-years-of-hip-hop/569634\">Tickets and details here\u003c/a>.\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\n",
"stats": {
"hasVideo": false,
"hasChartOrMap": false,
"hasAudio": false,
"hasPolis": false,
"wordCount": 294,
"hasGoogleForm": false,
"hasGallery": false,
"hasHearkenModule": false,
"iframeSrcs": [],
"paragraphCount": 8
},
"modified": 1705003315,
"excerpt": "The Oct. 15 party at SVN West features DJs, break dancers, a cypher and more. ",
"headData": {
"twImgId": "",
"twTitle": "",
"ogTitle": "",
"ogImgId": "",
"twDescription": "",
"description": "The Oct. 15 party at SVN West features DJs, break dancers, a cypher and more. ",
"title": "Too Short, Sway Calloway and Chuy Gomez Host EMPIRE’s Hip-Hop 50 Celebration | KQED",
"ogDescription": "",
"schema": {
"@context": "https://schema.org",
"@type": "Article",
"headline": "Too Short, Sway Calloway and Chuy Gomez Host EMPIRE’s Hip-Hop 50 Celebration",
"datePublished": "2023-09-27T12:20:03-07:00",
"dateModified": "2024-01-11T12:01:55-08:00",
"image": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/02/KQED-OG-Image@1x.png"
}
},
"guestAuthors": [],
"slug": "too-short-sway-calloway-chuy-gomez-empire-hip-hop-50",
"status": "publish",
"templateType": "standard",
"excludeFromSiteSearch": "Include",
"featuredImageType": "standard",
"sticky": false,
"articleAge": "0",
"path": "/arts/13935441/too-short-sway-calloway-chuy-gomez-empire-hip-hop-50",
"audioTrackLength": null,
"parsedContent": [
{
"type": "contentString",
"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp>San Francisco record label \u003ca href=\"https://empi.re/\">EMPIRE\u003c/a> has a track record of championing homegrown talent while also \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/ourturbulentdecade/2012-empire-brought-the-music-industry-back-to-san-francisco\">connecting Bay Area artists\u003c/a> to bigger opportunities on the national, and even international, stage. So its no surprise that the label is putting on its own celebration of 50 years of hip-hop culture. The party will take place on \u003ca href=\"https://www.seetickets.us/event/empire-salutes-50-years-of-hip-hop/569634\">Oct. 15 at SVN West in San Francisco\u003c/a>, hosted by Too Short and legendary radio personalities Chuy Gomez and Sway Calloway. \u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
"attributes": {
"named": {},
"numeric": []
}
},
{
"type": "component",
"content": "",
"name": "aside",
"attributes": {
"named": {
"label": "More Hip-Hop 50 Coverage ",
"postid": "arts_13934715,arts_13933590"
},
"numeric": []
}
},
{
"type": "contentString",
"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Too Short began his career in the early ’80s, putting out custom homemade tapes, and by the end of the decade he ascended to national stardom with lyrics about Oakland street life and \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/whatspimpin\">pimp culture\u003c/a>. Now \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/bayareahiphop\">Bay Area hip-hop\u003c/a> royalty, he’s been a source of both local \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13922616/too-short-way-street-sign-unveiled-oakland\">pride\u003c/a> and \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13930867/whats-pimpin-culture-hip-hop-rap-sexism-misogynoir-black-women\">controversy\u003c/a> over his influential, decades-long career.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Chuy Gomez became a voice for the Bay Area hip-hop scene as a host on the California Music Channel, and later was a fixture at 106 KMEL for 20 years. Sway Calloway, meanwhile, began his career as a rapper and made a name for himself as a broadcaster with his syndicated \u003cem>Wake Up Show\u003c/em> in the ’90s. Since 2011, he’s hosted the influential \u003cem>Sway in the Morning \u003c/em>on SiriusXM.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Too Short, Gomez and Calloway will lead the festivities at EMPIRE’s celebration, which features DJs Steady, Cream of Beat (Mindmotion and DJ Ivan), Big Von, Scotty Fox and more. The event also promises food trucks, artist vendors, break dancers, a cypher and more.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter size-full wp-image-11687704\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2016/06/Turntable.Break_.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"60\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/06/Turntable.Break_.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/06/Turntable.Break_-400x30.jpg 400w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/06/Turntable.Break_-768x58.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
"attributes": {
"named": {},
"numeric": []
}
},
{
"type": "component",
"content": "",
"name": "ad",
"attributes": {
"named": {
"label": "fullwidth"
},
"numeric": [
"fullwidth"
]
}
},
{
"type": "contentString",
"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>‘EMPIRE Salutes 50 Years of Hip-Hop’ takes place at SVN West (10 South Van Ness Ave., San Francisco) on Oct. 15. \u003ca href=\"https://www.seetickets.us/event/empire-salutes-50-years-of-hip-hop/569634\">Tickets and details here\u003c/a>.\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>",
"attributes": {
"named": {},
"numeric": []
}
}
],
"link": "/arts/13935441/too-short-sway-calloway-chuy-gomez-empire-hip-hop-50",
"authors": [
"11387"
],
"programs": [
"arts_140"
],
"categories": [
"arts_1",
"arts_69"
],
"tags": [
"arts_10278",
"arts_831",
"arts_21365",
"arts_585",
"arts_3478"
],
"featImg": "arts_13927313",
"label": "arts_140"
},
"arts_13934874": {
"type": "posts",
"id": "arts_13934874",
"meta": {
"index": "posts_1716263798",
"site": "arts",
"id": "13934874",
"score": null,
"sort": [
1695286815000
]
},
"guestAuthors": [],
"slug": "hyphy-kids-got-trauma",
"title": "Hyphy Kids Got Trauma: A Rightnowish Podcast Series",
"publishDate": 1695286815,
"format": "aside",
"headTitle": "Hyphy Kids Got Trauma: A Rightnowish Podcast Series | KQED",
"labelTerm": {
"term": 8720,
"site": "arts"
},
"content": "\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13935051\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 3000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13935051\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/09/HKGTFinalTile_Hyphy-Kids-Got-Trauma-1.png\" alt=\"The words Rightnowish Presents Hyphy Kids Got Trauma are airbrushed on a white t-shirt over a yellow background.\" width=\"3000\" height=\"3000\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/09/HKGTFinalTile_Hyphy-Kids-Got-Trauma-1.png 3000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/09/HKGTFinalTile_Hyphy-Kids-Got-Trauma-1-800x800.png 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/09/HKGTFinalTile_Hyphy-Kids-Got-Trauma-1-1020x1020.png 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/09/HKGTFinalTile_Hyphy-Kids-Got-Trauma-1-160x160.png 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/09/HKGTFinalTile_Hyphy-Kids-Got-Trauma-1-768x768.png 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/09/HKGTFinalTile_Hyphy-Kids-Got-Trauma-1-1536x1536.png 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/09/HKGTFinalTile_Hyphy-Kids-Got-Trauma-1-2048x2048.png 2048w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/09/HKGTFinalTile_Hyphy-Kids-Got-Trauma-1-1920x1920.png 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 3000px) 100vw, 3000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Hyphy Kids Got Trauma, the podcast series from Rightnowish. \u003ccite>(Rebecca Kao)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>[dropcap]T[/dropcap]he year 2006 was a wild one in the Bay Area, especially if, like me, you were into hip-hop.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The scene was dominated by the \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/news/11881696/how-hyphy-came-to-define-bay-area-hip-hop\">hyphy movement\u003c/a>, a youth culture driven by uptempo music, oversized airbrushed white T-shirts, big-ass sunglasses called stunna shades and candy painted cars doing donuts in intersections. Music blasted out of speakers lodged in the cars’ front grills as crowds of people gathered around, screaming “swang that shit.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The people fueled the music, and in turn, the music moved the people. It was unbridled energy, livewire behavior, and communal celebration.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>But beneath it all? That’s where it gets real — and why we’re calling this special Rightnowish podcast series Hyphy Kids Got Trauma.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c!-- iframe plugin v.4.3 wordpress.org/plugins/iframe/ -->\u003cbr>\n\u003ciframe loading=\"lazy\" frameborder=\"0\" height=\"200\" scrolling=\"no\" src=\"https://playlist.megaphone.fm/?e=KQINC3485225341&light=true\" width=\"100%\" class=\"iframe-class\">\u003c/iframe>\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13932929\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2560px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13932929\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/HyphyKids.Dray_-scaled.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"2560\" height=\"1707\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/HyphyKids.Dray_-scaled.jpg 2560w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/HyphyKids.Dray_-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/HyphyKids.Dray_-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/HyphyKids.Dray_-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/HyphyKids.Dray_-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/HyphyKids.Dray_-1536x1024.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/HyphyKids.Dray_-2048x1365.jpg 2048w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/HyphyKids.Dray_-1920x1280.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2560px) 100vw, 2560px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Hyphy was known as a high-energy, flamboyant movement, but layered beneath it surface was no small amount of pain. \u003ccite>(D-Ray)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>[dropcap]O[/dropcap]n March 7, 2006, Oakland rapper Too Short dropped the single “Blow The Whistle.” Produced by one of Atlanta’s most acclaimed artists, Lil Jon, it perfectly married the energy of hyphy music with the power of crunk music. With a sinister bass line, energetic drums, a simple hook and Too Short’s cocky flow, the song was a smash, and still gets present-day crowds turnt.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The very next week, on March 14, Vallejo’s legendary lyricist and esteemed entrepreneur E-40 released \u003cem>My Ghetto Report Card\u003c/em>, a landmark project that featured the hit song “Tell Me When to Go.” Also produced by Lil Jon, and featuring fan favorite Keak Da Sneak from East Oakland, the song and accompanying video caused a cultural earthquake, the aftershocks of which are felt to this day.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c!-- iframe plugin v.4.3 wordpress.org/plugins/iframe/ -->\u003cbr>\n\u003ciframe loading=\"lazy\" frameborder=\"0\" height=\"200\" scrolling=\"no\" src=\"https://playlist.megaphone.fm/?e=KQINC4775019711&light=true\" width=\"100%\" class=\"iframe-class\">\u003c/iframe>\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13935137\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2560px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13935137\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/09/e-40_video_photo_s_by_dray_keak_da_sneak___e-40-scaled.jpg\" alt=\"(L–R) Keak da Sneak and E-40 on the set of the music video for 'Tell Me When To Go' in 2006. \" width=\"2560\" height=\"1707\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/09/e-40_video_photo_s_by_dray_keak_da_sneak___e-40-scaled.jpg 2560w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/09/e-40_video_photo_s_by_dray_keak_da_sneak___e-40-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/09/e-40_video_photo_s_by_dray_keak_da_sneak___e-40-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/09/e-40_video_photo_s_by_dray_keak_da_sneak___e-40-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/09/e-40_video_photo_s_by_dray_keak_da_sneak___e-40-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/09/e-40_video_photo_s_by_dray_keak_da_sneak___e-40-1536x1024.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/09/e-40_video_photo_s_by_dray_keak_da_sneak___e-40-2048x1365.jpg 2048w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/09/e-40_video_photo_s_by_dray_keak_da_sneak___e-40-1920x1280.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2560px) 100vw, 2560px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">(L–R) Keak da Sneak and E-40 on the set of the music video for ‘Tell Me When To Go’ in 2006. \u003ccite>(D-Ray)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>That year also brought about landmark projects from San Francisco’s San Quinn, Big Rich, and Messy Marv. West Oakland’s J-Stalin teamed up with DJ Fresh for a banger. North Oakland’s Mistah F.A.B. and Pittsburg’s late lyricist The Jacka both rode the wave of big projects they individually dropped the year prior. And at the end of 2006, Berkeley’s The Pack stepped into the rap game with the hit song “Vans.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>There was this one artist, Beeda Weeda, from a neighborhood in East Oakland known as the Dubs — or Murder Dubs — who made this one song I couldn’t stop slappin’.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[aside postID='arts_13923938']The track was simply titled “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lXx3oATdjeg\">We Ain’t Listening\u003c/a>,” and it was pure youth rebellion over drums and synths. The lyrics provided a vent for me, a frustrated teenager. I was one of the many young adults who’d consumed too much dark liquor while celebrating each drug-induced day as if it were my last. Maybe because it very well could’ve been.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Almost 20 years later, with the benefit of hindsight and the language to express it, I can see how I was partying while simultaneously mourning, and living in a constant, traumatic state of fear.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In January of 2006, my friend Willie Clay, who I’d known since middle school, was shot and killed in the Dubs. Multiple people were hit; one other person died. That year, 148 people were killed in Oakland, one of the Town’s highest homicide totals ever recorded.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13935136\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2560px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13935136\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/09/Dubs.ParkBench.2011.CredPEN-scaled.jpg\" alt=\"A park bench in the Dubs, pictured in 2011, memorializes loved ones from the neighborhood.\" width=\"2560\" height=\"1707\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/09/Dubs.ParkBench.2011.CredPEN-scaled.jpg 2560w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/09/Dubs.ParkBench.2011.CredPEN-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/09/Dubs.ParkBench.2011.CredPEN-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/09/Dubs.ParkBench.2011.CredPEN-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/09/Dubs.ParkBench.2011.CredPEN-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/09/Dubs.ParkBench.2011.CredPEN-1536x1024.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/09/Dubs.ParkBench.2011.CredPEN-2048x1365.jpg 2048w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/09/Dubs.ParkBench.2011.CredPEN-1920x1280.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2560px) 100vw, 2560px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">A park bench in the Dubs, pictured in 2011, memorializes loved ones from the neighborhood. \u003ccite>(Pendarvis Harshaw)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>[dropcap]W[/dropcap]hen people talk about the hyphy movement, it’s often remembered as fun-loving and goofy. And while there were definitely some comical dances and corny songs, the origins of hyphy are far from funny.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“Hyphy” originally meant hyperactive, and not in a good way. Like an aggressive loose dog, a driver speeding on the wrong side of the street, or rebellious teenagers who tell oppressive authority figures “we ain’t listening” without giving it a second thought.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>As the culture grew, though, the term got watered down. There was actually a lot of pain in that era. Some of the scars were specific to that year, while others were the latest incarnation of larger societal issues (systemic racism, sexism, capitalism and imperialism, to name a few) that have oppressed folks in this country for centuries. But no matter what the cause was, the pain gave us a reason to party.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The music was an outlet; a salve for the wounds caused by the world.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c!-- iframe plugin v.4.3 wordpress.org/plugins/iframe/ -->\u003cbr>\n\u003ciframe loading=\"lazy\" frameborder=\"0\" height=\"200\" scrolling=\"no\" src=\"https://playlist.megaphone.fm/?e=KQINC3978396932&light=true\" width=\"100%\" class=\"iframe-class\">\u003c/iframe>\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13935139\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1280px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13935139\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/09/CRED.AlexanderWarnow.jpg\" alt=\"Beeda Weeda, Tajai from Souls of Mischief, and J. Stalin.\" width=\"1280\" height=\"853\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/09/CRED.AlexanderWarnow.jpg 1280w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/09/CRED.AlexanderWarnow-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/09/CRED.AlexanderWarnow-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/09/CRED.AlexanderWarnow-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/09/CRED.AlexanderWarnow-768x512.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1280px) 100vw, 1280px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">(L–R) Beeda Weeda, Tajai from Souls of Mischief, and J. Stalin. \u003ccite>(Alexander Warnow)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>In addition to festering neighborhood beefs and unfortunate acts of community violence, we were facing the onset of gentrification. Banks were handing out predatory housing loans, rents were increasing and \u003ca href=\"https://www.nytimes.com/2010/09/03/us/politics/03bcbrown.html\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">former Oakland Mayor Jerry Brown laid out a plan\u003c/a> to redevelop downtown and usher in thousands of new residents. \u003ca href=\"https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2018/jun/01/from-black-panthers-to-bbq-becky-the-displacement-of-black-oakland\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">Black folks were pushed out of Oakland in droves\u003c/a>, relocating to California’s Central Valley, Nevada, Arizona or one of the southern states. We were also dealing with over-policing from a corrupt Oakland Police Department that had entered its third year of federal oversight.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>At the same time, the unjust system of mass incarceration in California hit its peak. In 2006, the state’s prisons operated at \u003ca href=\"https://www.library.ca.gov/wp-content/uploads/GovernmentPublications/executive-order-proclamation/38-Proc-2006-93.pdf\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">200% of their capacity\u003c/a>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>And nationally, as the United States hurtled toward its worst economic downturn since the Great Depression, the military was sending my peers to Afghanistan to fight the War on Terror, a conflict that would eventually become the longest war this country has ever seen.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Yeah, we were dealing with a lot.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>How did we cope? We went stupid. We shook dreads. We dodged cops. We smoked grapes, sipped drank and shoved pills in our faces. We turned up the music, revved engines and screamed “Yee!” ’til our voices shook the concrete, causing the nation to take note of us. \u003cem>That’s\u003c/em> how we dealt with pain.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c!-- iframe plugin v.4.3 wordpress.org/plugins/iframe/ -->\u003cbr>\n\u003ciframe loading=\"lazy\" frameborder=\"0\" height=\"200\" scrolling=\"no\" src=\"https://playlist.megaphone.fm/?e=KQINC6098869655&light=true\" width=\"100%\" class=\"iframe-class\">\u003c/iframe>\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13935138\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2560px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13935138\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/09/FabVideoShoot.Scraper.Dray_-scaled.jpg\" alt=\"A scraper bike on the set of E-40's music video 'Tell Me When to Go' in 2006.\" width=\"2560\" height=\"1700\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/09/FabVideoShoot.Scraper.Dray_-scaled.jpg 2560w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/09/FabVideoShoot.Scraper.Dray_-800x531.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/09/FabVideoShoot.Scraper.Dray_-1020x677.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/09/FabVideoShoot.Scraper.Dray_-160x106.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/09/FabVideoShoot.Scraper.Dray_-768x510.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/09/FabVideoShoot.Scraper.Dray_-1536x1020.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/09/FabVideoShoot.Scraper.Dray_-2048x1360.jpg 2048w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/09/FabVideoShoot.Scraper.Dray_-1920x1275.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2560px) 100vw, 2560px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">A scraper bike on the set of E-40’s music video ‘Tell Me When to Go’ in 2006. \u003ccite>(D-Ray)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>[dropcap]A[/dropcap] few years ago I was bending corners around West Oakland and saw some graffiti on an underpass that stuck with me. The words were simple: “hyphy kids got trauma.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The piece I saw, inspired by lyrics from San Francisco’s \u003ca href=\"https://www.textmerecords.com/rich-iyala\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">Rich Iyala\u003c/a>, was by a graffiti writer named Nasty. But then I saw it in a few other places too, by different writers.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Evidently the idea resonated with folks. I wasn’t the only one.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>I have fond memories of watching cars dance at sideshows, and seeing homies gig during turf dance battles at East Oakland’s Youth Uprising Center. But those sweet reflections, of kicking it with my friends at the teenage club — the Candy Shop, or hotboxing with the homies in the parking lot — are met with the unsavory realities of the the hyphy movement. It wasn’t all fun and games. There were a lot of people with the letters RIP airbrushed on their white t-shirts, and folks with funeral pamphlets on the front dashboard of their Buick scrapers. Evidence of the pain.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>As a hip-hop loving, budding journalist, laying the foundation for my career path while trying to stay out of harm’s way, I took note of it all. Now, as an adult, I see it with a new perspective.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad floatright]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The year 2006 truly was a wild year for the Bay Area. I’m still healing from it, and I’m not the only one.\u003c/p>\n\n",
"blocks": [],
"excerpt": "In 2006, unbridled young energy fueled the hyphy movement. But beneath it all? That's where it gets real.",
"status": "publish",
"parent": 0,
"modified": 1726790656,
"stats": {
"hasAudio": true,
"hasVideo": false,
"hasChartOrMap": false,
"iframeSrcs": [],
"hasGoogleForm": false,
"hasGallery": false,
"hasHearkenModule": false,
"hasPolis": false,
"paragraphCount": 32,
"wordCount": 1336
},
"headData": {
"title": "Hyphy Kids Got Trauma: A Rightnowish Podcast Series | KQED",
"description": "In 2006, unbridled young energy fueled the hyphy movement. But beneath it all? That's where it gets real.",
"ogTitle": "",
"ogDescription": "",
"ogImgId": "",
"twTitle": "",
"twDescription": "",
"twImgId": "",
"schema": {
"@context": "https://schema.org",
"@type": "Article",
"headline": "Hyphy Kids Got Trauma: A Rightnowish Podcast Series",
"datePublished": "2023-09-21T02:00:15-07:00",
"dateModified": "2024-09-19T17:04:16-07:00",
"image": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/02/KQED-OG-Image@1x.png"
}
},
"sticky": false,
"templateType": "standard",
"featuredImageType": "standard",
"excludeFromSiteSearch": "Include",
"articleAge": "0",
"path": "/arts/13934874/hyphy-kids-got-trauma",
"audioTrackLength": null,
"parsedContent": [
{
"type": "contentString",
"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13935051\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 3000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13935051\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/09/HKGTFinalTile_Hyphy-Kids-Got-Trauma-1.png\" alt=\"The words Rightnowish Presents Hyphy Kids Got Trauma are airbrushed on a white t-shirt over a yellow background.\" width=\"3000\" height=\"3000\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/09/HKGTFinalTile_Hyphy-Kids-Got-Trauma-1.png 3000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/09/HKGTFinalTile_Hyphy-Kids-Got-Trauma-1-800x800.png 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/09/HKGTFinalTile_Hyphy-Kids-Got-Trauma-1-1020x1020.png 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/09/HKGTFinalTile_Hyphy-Kids-Got-Trauma-1-160x160.png 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/09/HKGTFinalTile_Hyphy-Kids-Got-Trauma-1-768x768.png 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/09/HKGTFinalTile_Hyphy-Kids-Got-Trauma-1-1536x1536.png 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/09/HKGTFinalTile_Hyphy-Kids-Got-Trauma-1-2048x2048.png 2048w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/09/HKGTFinalTile_Hyphy-Kids-Got-Trauma-1-1920x1920.png 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 3000px) 100vw, 3000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Hyphy Kids Got Trauma, the podcast series from Rightnowish. \u003ccite>(Rebecca Kao)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003cspan class=\"utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__dropcapShortcode__dropcap\">T\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\u003cp>he year 2006 was a wild one in the Bay Area, especially if, like me, you were into hip-hop.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The scene was dominated by the \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/news/11881696/how-hyphy-came-to-define-bay-area-hip-hop\">hyphy movement\u003c/a>, a youth culture driven by uptempo music, oversized airbrushed white T-shirts, big-ass sunglasses called stunna shades and candy painted cars doing donuts in intersections. Music blasted out of speakers lodged in the cars’ front grills as crowds of people gathered around, screaming “swang that shit.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The people fueled the music, and in turn, the music moved the people. It was unbridled energy, livewire behavior, and communal celebration.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>But beneath it all? That’s where it gets real — and why we’re calling this special Rightnowish podcast series Hyphy Kids Got Trauma.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c!-- iframe plugin v.4.3 wordpress.org/plugins/iframe/ -->\u003cbr>\n\u003ciframe loading=\"lazy\" frameborder=\"0\" height=\"200\" scrolling=\"no\" src=\"https://playlist.megaphone.fm/?e=KQINC3485225341&light=true\" width=\"100%\" class=\"iframe-class\">\u003c/iframe>\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13932929\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2560px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13932929\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/HyphyKids.Dray_-scaled.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"2560\" height=\"1707\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/HyphyKids.Dray_-scaled.jpg 2560w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/HyphyKids.Dray_-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/HyphyKids.Dray_-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/HyphyKids.Dray_-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/HyphyKids.Dray_-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/HyphyKids.Dray_-1536x1024.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/HyphyKids.Dray_-2048x1365.jpg 2048w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/HyphyKids.Dray_-1920x1280.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2560px) 100vw, 2560px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Hyphy was known as a high-energy, flamboyant movement, but layered beneath it surface was no small amount of pain. \u003ccite>(D-Ray)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003cspan class=\"utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__dropcapShortcode__dropcap\">O\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\u003cp>n March 7, 2006, Oakland rapper Too Short dropped the single “Blow The Whistle.” Produced by one of Atlanta’s most acclaimed artists, Lil Jon, it perfectly married the energy of hyphy music with the power of crunk music. With a sinister bass line, energetic drums, a simple hook and Too Short’s cocky flow, the song was a smash, and still gets present-day crowds turnt.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
"attributes": {
"named": {},
"numeric": []
}
},
{
"type": "component",
"content": "",
"name": "ad",
"attributes": {
"named": {
"label": "fullwidth"
},
"numeric": [
"fullwidth"
]
}
},
{
"type": "contentString",
"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The very next week, on March 14, Vallejo’s legendary lyricist and esteemed entrepreneur E-40 released \u003cem>My Ghetto Report Card\u003c/em>, a landmark project that featured the hit song “Tell Me When to Go.” Also produced by Lil Jon, and featuring fan favorite Keak Da Sneak from East Oakland, the song and accompanying video caused a cultural earthquake, the aftershocks of which are felt to this day.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c!-- iframe plugin v.4.3 wordpress.org/plugins/iframe/ -->\u003cbr>\n\u003ciframe loading=\"lazy\" frameborder=\"0\" height=\"200\" scrolling=\"no\" src=\"https://playlist.megaphone.fm/?e=KQINC4775019711&light=true\" width=\"100%\" class=\"iframe-class\">\u003c/iframe>\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13935137\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2560px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13935137\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/09/e-40_video_photo_s_by_dray_keak_da_sneak___e-40-scaled.jpg\" alt=\"(L–R) Keak da Sneak and E-40 on the set of the music video for 'Tell Me When To Go' in 2006. \" width=\"2560\" height=\"1707\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/09/e-40_video_photo_s_by_dray_keak_da_sneak___e-40-scaled.jpg 2560w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/09/e-40_video_photo_s_by_dray_keak_da_sneak___e-40-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/09/e-40_video_photo_s_by_dray_keak_da_sneak___e-40-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/09/e-40_video_photo_s_by_dray_keak_da_sneak___e-40-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/09/e-40_video_photo_s_by_dray_keak_da_sneak___e-40-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/09/e-40_video_photo_s_by_dray_keak_da_sneak___e-40-1536x1024.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/09/e-40_video_photo_s_by_dray_keak_da_sneak___e-40-2048x1365.jpg 2048w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/09/e-40_video_photo_s_by_dray_keak_da_sneak___e-40-1920x1280.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2560px) 100vw, 2560px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">(L–R) Keak da Sneak and E-40 on the set of the music video for ‘Tell Me When To Go’ in 2006. \u003ccite>(D-Ray)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>That year also brought about landmark projects from San Francisco’s San Quinn, Big Rich, and Messy Marv. West Oakland’s J-Stalin teamed up with DJ Fresh for a banger. North Oakland’s Mistah F.A.B. and Pittsburg’s late lyricist The Jacka both rode the wave of big projects they individually dropped the year prior. And at the end of 2006, Berkeley’s The Pack stepped into the rap game with the hit song “Vans.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>There was this one artist, Beeda Weeda, from a neighborhood in East Oakland known as the Dubs — or Murder Dubs — who made this one song I couldn’t stop slappin’.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
"attributes": {
"named": {},
"numeric": []
}
},
{
"type": "component",
"content": "",
"name": "aside",
"attributes": {
"named": {
"postid": "arts_13923938",
"label": ""
},
"numeric": []
}
},
{
"type": "contentString",
"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>The track was simply titled “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lXx3oATdjeg\">We Ain’t Listening\u003c/a>,” and it was pure youth rebellion over drums and synths. The lyrics provided a vent for me, a frustrated teenager. I was one of the many young adults who’d consumed too much dark liquor while celebrating each drug-induced day as if it were my last. Maybe because it very well could’ve been.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Almost 20 years later, with the benefit of hindsight and the language to express it, I can see how I was partying while simultaneously mourning, and living in a constant, traumatic state of fear.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In January of 2006, my friend Willie Clay, who I’d known since middle school, was shot and killed in the Dubs. Multiple people were hit; one other person died. That year, 148 people were killed in Oakland, one of the Town’s highest homicide totals ever recorded.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13935136\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2560px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13935136\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/09/Dubs.ParkBench.2011.CredPEN-scaled.jpg\" alt=\"A park bench in the Dubs, pictured in 2011, memorializes loved ones from the neighborhood.\" width=\"2560\" height=\"1707\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/09/Dubs.ParkBench.2011.CredPEN-scaled.jpg 2560w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/09/Dubs.ParkBench.2011.CredPEN-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/09/Dubs.ParkBench.2011.CredPEN-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/09/Dubs.ParkBench.2011.CredPEN-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/09/Dubs.ParkBench.2011.CredPEN-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/09/Dubs.ParkBench.2011.CredPEN-1536x1024.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/09/Dubs.ParkBench.2011.CredPEN-2048x1365.jpg 2048w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/09/Dubs.ParkBench.2011.CredPEN-1920x1280.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2560px) 100vw, 2560px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">A park bench in the Dubs, pictured in 2011, memorializes loved ones from the neighborhood. \u003ccite>(Pendarvis Harshaw)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003cspan class=\"utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__dropcapShortcode__dropcap\">W\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\u003cp>hen people talk about the hyphy movement, it’s often remembered as fun-loving and goofy. And while there were definitely some comical dances and corny songs, the origins of hyphy are far from funny.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“Hyphy” originally meant hyperactive, and not in a good way. Like an aggressive loose dog, a driver speeding on the wrong side of the street, or rebellious teenagers who tell oppressive authority figures “we ain’t listening” without giving it a second thought.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>As the culture grew, though, the term got watered down. There was actually a lot of pain in that era. Some of the scars were specific to that year, while others were the latest incarnation of larger societal issues (systemic racism, sexism, capitalism and imperialism, to name a few) that have oppressed folks in this country for centuries. But no matter what the cause was, the pain gave us a reason to party.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The music was an outlet; a salve for the wounds caused by the world.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c!-- iframe plugin v.4.3 wordpress.org/plugins/iframe/ -->\u003cbr>\n\u003ciframe loading=\"lazy\" frameborder=\"0\" height=\"200\" scrolling=\"no\" src=\"https://playlist.megaphone.fm/?e=KQINC3978396932&light=true\" width=\"100%\" class=\"iframe-class\">\u003c/iframe>\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13935139\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1280px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13935139\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/09/CRED.AlexanderWarnow.jpg\" alt=\"Beeda Weeda, Tajai from Souls of Mischief, and J. Stalin.\" width=\"1280\" height=\"853\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/09/CRED.AlexanderWarnow.jpg 1280w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/09/CRED.AlexanderWarnow-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/09/CRED.AlexanderWarnow-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/09/CRED.AlexanderWarnow-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/09/CRED.AlexanderWarnow-768x512.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1280px) 100vw, 1280px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">(L–R) Beeda Weeda, Tajai from Souls of Mischief, and J. Stalin. \u003ccite>(Alexander Warnow)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>In addition to festering neighborhood beefs and unfortunate acts of community violence, we were facing the onset of gentrification. Banks were handing out predatory housing loans, rents were increasing and \u003ca href=\"https://www.nytimes.com/2010/09/03/us/politics/03bcbrown.html\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">former Oakland Mayor Jerry Brown laid out a plan\u003c/a> to redevelop downtown and usher in thousands of new residents. \u003ca href=\"https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2018/jun/01/from-black-panthers-to-bbq-becky-the-displacement-of-black-oakland\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">Black folks were pushed out of Oakland in droves\u003c/a>, relocating to California’s Central Valley, Nevada, Arizona or one of the southern states. We were also dealing with over-policing from a corrupt Oakland Police Department that had entered its third year of federal oversight.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>At the same time, the unjust system of mass incarceration in California hit its peak. In 2006, the state’s prisons operated at \u003ca href=\"https://www.library.ca.gov/wp-content/uploads/GovernmentPublications/executive-order-proclamation/38-Proc-2006-93.pdf\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">200% of their capacity\u003c/a>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>And nationally, as the United States hurtled toward its worst economic downturn since the Great Depression, the military was sending my peers to Afghanistan to fight the War on Terror, a conflict that would eventually become the longest war this country has ever seen.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Yeah, we were dealing with a lot.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>How did we cope? We went stupid. We shook dreads. We dodged cops. We smoked grapes, sipped drank and shoved pills in our faces. We turned up the music, revved engines and screamed “Yee!” ’til our voices shook the concrete, causing the nation to take note of us. \u003cem>That’s\u003c/em> how we dealt with pain.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c!-- iframe plugin v.4.3 wordpress.org/plugins/iframe/ -->\u003cbr>\n\u003ciframe loading=\"lazy\" frameborder=\"0\" height=\"200\" scrolling=\"no\" src=\"https://playlist.megaphone.fm/?e=KQINC6098869655&light=true\" width=\"100%\" class=\"iframe-class\">\u003c/iframe>\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13935138\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2560px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13935138\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/09/FabVideoShoot.Scraper.Dray_-scaled.jpg\" alt=\"A scraper bike on the set of E-40's music video 'Tell Me When to Go' in 2006.\" width=\"2560\" height=\"1700\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/09/FabVideoShoot.Scraper.Dray_-scaled.jpg 2560w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/09/FabVideoShoot.Scraper.Dray_-800x531.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/09/FabVideoShoot.Scraper.Dray_-1020x677.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/09/FabVideoShoot.Scraper.Dray_-160x106.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/09/FabVideoShoot.Scraper.Dray_-768x510.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/09/FabVideoShoot.Scraper.Dray_-1536x1020.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/09/FabVideoShoot.Scraper.Dray_-2048x1360.jpg 2048w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/09/FabVideoShoot.Scraper.Dray_-1920x1275.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2560px) 100vw, 2560px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">A scraper bike on the set of E-40’s music video ‘Tell Me When to Go’ in 2006. \u003ccite>(D-Ray)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003cspan class=\"utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__dropcapShortcode__dropcap\">A\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\u003cp> few years ago I was bending corners around West Oakland and saw some graffiti on an underpass that stuck with me. The words were simple: “hyphy kids got trauma.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The piece I saw, inspired by lyrics from San Francisco’s \u003ca href=\"https://www.textmerecords.com/rich-iyala\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">Rich Iyala\u003c/a>, was by a graffiti writer named Nasty. But then I saw it in a few other places too, by different writers.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Evidently the idea resonated with folks. I wasn’t the only one.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>I have fond memories of watching cars dance at sideshows, and seeing homies gig during turf dance battles at East Oakland’s Youth Uprising Center. But those sweet reflections, of kicking it with my friends at the teenage club — the Candy Shop, or hotboxing with the homies in the parking lot — are met with the unsavory realities of the the hyphy movement. It wasn’t all fun and games. There were a lot of people with the letters RIP airbrushed on their white t-shirts, and folks with funeral pamphlets on the front dashboard of their Buick scrapers. Evidence of the pain.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>As a hip-hop loving, budding journalist, laying the foundation for my career path while trying to stay out of harm’s way, I took note of it all. Now, as an adult, I see it with a new perspective.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
"attributes": {
"named": {},
"numeric": []
}
},
{
"type": "component",
"content": "",
"name": "ad",
"attributes": {
"named": {
"label": "floatright"
},
"numeric": [
"floatright"
]
}
},
{
"type": "contentString",
"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The year 2006 truly was a wild year for the Bay Area. I’m still healing from it, and I’m not the only one.\u003c/p>\n\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>",
"attributes": {
"named": {},
"numeric": []
}
}
],
"link": "/arts/13934874/hyphy-kids-got-trauma",
"authors": [
"11491"
],
"programs": [
"arts_8720"
],
"series": [
"arts_22314"
],
"categories": [
"arts_1",
"arts_69",
"arts_235",
"arts_21759"
],
"tags": [
"arts_1601",
"arts_10342",
"arts_10278",
"arts_6975",
"arts_21568",
"arts_1143",
"arts_19347",
"arts_3478"
],
"featImg": "arts_13935132",
"label": "arts_8720"
},
"arts_13932753": {
"type": "posts",
"id": "arts_13932753",
"meta": {
"index": "posts_1716263798",
"site": "arts",
"id": "13932753",
"score": null,
"sort": [
1691506112000
]
},
"parent": 0,
"labelTerm": {
"site": "arts"
},
"blocks": [],
"publishDate": 1691506112,
"format": "standard",
"title": "E-40, Too Short, Chuck D and More Rap Legends on Their Early Hip-Hop Influences",
"headTitle": "E-40, Too Short, Chuck D and More Rap Legends on Their Early Hip-Hop Influences | KQED",
"content": "\u003cp>Remember the first rap song you heard? Some of your favorite rappers and DJs certainly do. While hip-hop celebrates 50 years of life, The Associated Press asked some of the genre’s most popular artists to recall their first memory of hearing rap and how the moment resonated with them.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In interviews with more than two dozen hip-hop legends, Queen Latifah, Chuck D, Method Man, E-40 and eight others cited The Sugarhill Gang’s “Rapper’s Delight” as the first rap song they heard. But not all were hooked on the new musical style by that track, and their answers reveal the sense of discovery that marked rap’s early years. (Watch videos of the \u003ca href=\"https://projects.apnews.com/features/2023/hip-hop-50th-in-their-own-words/index.html\">artists describing their early hip-hop influences here\u003c/a>.)\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Hip-hops roots are traced to 1973 in the Bronx and it took a few years before rap records emerged — “Rapper’s Delight” was a major catalyst for introducing rap music to a much broader audience.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Here are the stories of a dozen hip-hop stars who got hooked on the genre around the time “Rapper’s Delight” ruled.\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>Chuck D\u003c/h2>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13932754\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13932754\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/GettyImages-1144886924-scaled-e1691443762805-800x533.jpg\" alt=\"A middle aged Black man clutches a microphone and mic stand and smiles on stage. He is wearing a black t-shirt and black baseball cap.\" width=\"800\" height=\"533\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/GettyImages-1144886924-scaled-e1691443762805-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/GettyImages-1144886924-scaled-e1691443762805-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/GettyImages-1144886924-scaled-e1691443762805-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/GettyImages-1144886924-scaled-e1691443762805-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/GettyImages-1144886924-scaled-e1691443762805-1536x1024.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/GettyImages-1144886924-scaled-e1691443762805.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Public Enemy’s Chuck D performs in Berlin in 2019. \u003ccite>(Frank Hoensch/ Redferns)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>As a sophomore at Adelphi University, Chuck D was about to hit the stage to perform over the melody of Chic’s “Good Times” at a party in October 1979.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>At least, that’s what he thought.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>When he stepped behind the microphone, Chuck D heard a different version of the song. It kept going and going for — 15 minutes straight.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[aside postid='arts_13925958']“I get on the mic to rock the house. Then all of a sudden, I hear words behind me as I’m rockin’. I lipsync. The words keep going. (Expletive) are rockin’ for like 20 minutes,” said Chuck D, a member of the rap group Public Enemy who created “ Fight the Power,” one of hip-hop’s most iconic and important anthems.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“After it’s all over, cats are giving me high pounds like ‘You went on and on to the break of dawn dawg,’” he continued. “Back then, it’s about how long you can rap. I went and turned to the DJ and looked at the red label that said ‘Sugarhill Gang ‘Rapper’s Delight.’’ I was like ’Oh, they finally did it.’ They were talking all summer long that rap records were going to happen.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>He was stunned: “I was, like, ’It’s inconceivable. How could a rap be a record?′ I couldn’t see it. Nobody could see it. And then when it happened, boom.”\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>Queen Latifah\u003c/h2>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13932755\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13932755\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/GettyImages-1206547466-scaled-e1691444156901-800x563.jpg\" alt=\"A Black woman in an olive green jumpsuit performs on stage. She is holding a microphone up to her mouth.\" width=\"800\" height=\"563\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/GettyImages-1206547466-scaled-e1691444156901-800x563.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/GettyImages-1206547466-scaled-e1691444156901-1020x718.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/GettyImages-1206547466-scaled-e1691444156901-160x113.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/GettyImages-1206547466-scaled-e1691444156901-768x540.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/GettyImages-1206547466-scaled-e1691444156901-1536x1081.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/GettyImages-1206547466-scaled-e1691444156901.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Queen Latifah performing in Chicago in 2020. \u003ccite>(Kevin Mazur/Getty Images)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>For Queen Latifah, “Rapper’s Delight” was the first rap song she and a lot of others heard and memorized where she grew up in Newark, New Jersey. But the biggest record in her world as a kid was Afrika Bambaattaa and the Soul Sonic Force’s 1982 song “ Planet Rock. ”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>While the Oscar-nominated actor can be seen chasing bad guys on CBS’ \u003cem>The Equalizer\u003c/em>, many forget her roots as a rapper, with hits like “U.N.I.T.Y.” and “Just Another Day.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“It changed the sound,” she said. “It’s more of a synthesized, 808s, hi-hats. The whole sound of it was different. Some of hip-hop in the original days was live music. It was live bands playing break records. Like ‘Good Times’ was the beat to ‘Rapper’s Delight.’ Some of those records took actual disco records, played the music and rhymed to them.”\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>E-40\u003c/h2>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13840957\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13840957\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2018/09/MG_0970-1-800x533.jpg\" alt=\"E-40 plays Rolling Loud Bay Area on Sunday, September 16, 2018.\" width=\"800\" height=\"533\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/09/MG_0970-1-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/09/MG_0970-1-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/09/MG_0970-1-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/09/MG_0970-1-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/09/MG_0970-1-1200x800.jpg 1200w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/09/MG_0970-1.jpg 1920w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/09/MG_0970-1-1180x787.jpg 1180w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/09/MG_0970-1-960x640.jpg 960w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/09/MG_0970-1-240x160.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/09/MG_0970-1-375x250.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/09/MG_0970-1-520x347.jpg 520w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">E-40 plays Rolling Loud Bay Area on Sunday, September 16, 2018. \u003ccite>(Estefany Gonzalez)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>While heading to school as a seventh grader in 1979, E-40 heard a new rap tune on a local radio station that normally played R&B and soul music in Northern California.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[aside postid='arts_13932488']It was “Rapper’s Delight,” which interpolated Chic’s hit “Good Times.” That’s when he knew hip-hop was going to be a part of his life forever.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“I was like ‘Ohh, this is hard. I’m hooked,’” said E-40, who recalled the moment while driving to Franklin Middle School in Vallejo, California. He and fellow rapper B-Legit used to sport the same kind of fedora hats and big gold rope chains Run-D.M.C. performed in.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“From then on, I loved rap. In 1979, when I first heard The Sugarhill Gang, I wanted to be a rapper. I would play around with it … We grew up on New York rap. All of us did. We wanted to be hip-hop. We wanted to breakdance. We did it all.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“But that changed everything after we heard Sugarhill Gang. Next thing you know, you’re hearing Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five, Kurtis Blow and ‘Roxannne, Roxanne.’”\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>Lil Jon\u003c/h2>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13932756\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13932756\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/GettyImages-509006782-scaled-e1691444783893-800x533.jpg\" alt=\"A smiling Black man wearing sunglasses, a grey hoodie and blue jeans sits on a couch next to a black wall.\" width=\"800\" height=\"533\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/GettyImages-509006782-scaled-e1691444783893-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/GettyImages-509006782-scaled-e1691444783893-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/GettyImages-509006782-scaled-e1691444783893-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/GettyImages-509006782-scaled-e1691444783893-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/GettyImages-509006782-scaled-e1691444783893-1536x1024.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/GettyImages-509006782-scaled-e1691444783893.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Lil Jon backstage before a DJ set at Temple Nightclub in San Francisco, 2016. \u003ccite>(Kelly Sullivan/ Getty Images)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>“Rapper’s Delight” was probably the first hip-hop song Lil Jon heard. But he became a “super fan” of the genre as a middle schooler in Atlanta after seeing rap groups the Fat Boys and Whodini. It was his first time seeing professional rappers onstage.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“I might have been a fan of rap before, but I had never been to a rap concert. I’ve never seen rappers in person,” he said. “Maybe just in the magazines. That turned me into like … a super fan of hip-hop.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The first hip-hop record Lil-Jon bought was Run D.M.C.’s “Sucker M.C.’s (Krush-Groove 1).”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“I remembered my homeboy that lived in the neighborhood. I had to go through some woods to his house with the album,” he said. “We put the album on at his house. We were going crazy over listening to lyrics and beats.”\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>Roxanne Shante\u003c/h2>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13930911\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13930911\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/06/GettyImages-1491748126-scaled-e1687807323886-800x533.jpg\" alt=\"A Black woman stands onstage smiling broadly. She is wearing an off the shoulder red gown and holding her hands out in a half shrug.\" width=\"800\" height=\"533\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/06/GettyImages-1491748126-scaled-e1687807323886-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/06/GettyImages-1491748126-scaled-e1687807323886-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/06/GettyImages-1491748126-scaled-e1687807323886-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/06/GettyImages-1491748126-scaled-e1687807323886-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/06/GettyImages-1491748126-scaled-e1687807323886-1536x1024.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/06/GettyImages-1491748126-scaled-e1687807323886.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Roxanne Shante at the 2023 Black Music Honors in Atlanta, Georgia. \u003ccite>(Nykieria Chaney/ Getty Images)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Roxanne Shante’s first rap experience didn’t come in song form. She was introduced to hip-hop through the late comedian-poet Nipsey Russell.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[aside postid='arts_13931795']“He had the ability to rhyme at any time,” said Shante, a host for SiriusXM’s Rock the Bells Radio. At age 14, she became one of the first female rappers to become popular after her song “Roxanne’s Revenge” and gained more notoriety as a member of the Juice Crew. She also took part in \u003cem>Roxanne Wars\u003c/em>, which was a series of hip-hop rivalries in the mid-1980s.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Shante said “Rapper’s Delight” was the record most parents brought into their home as the “party song.” But in her mind, Russell had just as much of an impact.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“That would be my first encounter with loving what would become hip-hop,” she continued. “This way of having a certain cadence, this way of being able to do these certain rhymes was just incredible to me … He was able to freestyle all day, every day. And that’s who I am. That’s what I still do today.”\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>Too Short\u003c/h2>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13922549\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13922549\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2022/12/GettyImages-1143940667-1-800x545.jpg\" alt=\"a Black man raps into a microphone on a stage with the words 'Too $hort' behind him in blue lights\" width=\"800\" height=\"545\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2022/12/GettyImages-1143940667-1-800x545.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2022/12/GettyImages-1143940667-1-1020x695.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2022/12/GettyImages-1143940667-1-160x109.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2022/12/GettyImages-1143940667-1-768x523.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2022/12/GettyImages-1143940667-1-1536x1047.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2022/12/GettyImages-1143940667-1-2048x1395.jpg 2048w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2022/12/GettyImages-1143940667-1-1920x1308.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Too Short performs during the ‘25th Anniversary of Doggystyle’ tour at Oracle Arena, Oakland. \u003ccite>(Tim Mosenfelder/Getty Images)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>It’s 1979. Too Short was around 13 years old. He normally listened to a variety of funk songs ranging from the Ohio Players’ “Love Rollercoaster” and Funkadelic’s “Knee Deep.” Then one day at his father’s house, he heard “Rapper’s Delight” blaring through a stereo system.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[aside postid='arts_13927349']“I was on my funk stuff, then this ‘Rapper’s Delight’ record came out and it was like 15 minutes long,” he recalled. “I’d be at my pop’s house just bumping the loud stereo.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>As “Rapper’s Delight” gained momentum in 1980, Too Short gravitated more toward beatboxing. That led him to hit up the local record store where he would buy the latest hip-hop album then blasted it on his radio for anyone to hear in Oakland.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“I had to get a radio with two speakers. That was mandatory,” he said. “I was the guy with the radio who was hitting play going ‘You ain’t never heard that before’ … I had the whole room, the whole bus jumping.”\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>Doug E. Fresh\u003c/h2>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13932758\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13932758\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/GettyImages-1563180184-scaled-e1691445859451-800x553.jpg\" alt=\"A Black man raises both his arms in the air and strides forward on stage. He is wearing a white t-shirt, black jacket and black pants. Stage lights beam all around him.\" width=\"800\" height=\"553\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/GettyImages-1563180184-scaled-e1691445859451-800x553.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/GettyImages-1563180184-scaled-e1691445859451-1020x705.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/GettyImages-1563180184-scaled-e1691445859451-160x111.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/GettyImages-1563180184-scaled-e1691445859451-768x531.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/GettyImages-1563180184-scaled-e1691445859451-1536x1062.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/GettyImages-1563180184-scaled-e1691445859451.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Doug E. Fresh onstage in New York City in 2023. \u003ccite>(Johnny Nunez/ WireImage)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Hearing “Rapper’s Delight” for the first time changed the trajectory of Doug E. Fresh’s life.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“I remember when my sister came home and told me about a guy named D.J. Hollywood, who we considered the first real M.C.,” he said. “She came home and told me about a rap he had. And the rap went, ‘Ding, ding, ding, ding, dong, dong, dong the dang, the dang, dang, dang, the ding dong dong. To the hip hop…’”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Fresh then added: “I turned around and said, ‘Teach me that, show me.’ And after that, it’s been me and hip-hop since that point.”\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>DJ Kid Capri\u003c/h2>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13932759\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13932759\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/GettyImages-1576356953-scaled-e1691446543374-800x533.jpg\" alt=\"A mixed race man wearing a black Givenchy t-shirt smiles from behind DJ decks, holding one side of a set of headphones on his head.\" width=\"800\" height=\"533\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/GettyImages-1576356953-scaled-e1691446543374-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/GettyImages-1576356953-scaled-e1691446543374-1020x679.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/GettyImages-1576356953-scaled-e1691446543374-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/GettyImages-1576356953-scaled-e1691446543374-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/GettyImages-1576356953-scaled-e1691446543374-1536x1023.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/GettyImages-1576356953-scaled-e1691446543374.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Kid Capri DJing in Houston in 2023. \u003ccite>(Marcus Ingram/ Getty Images)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>DJ Kid Capri, arguably one of hip-hop’s most famous DJs in the ‘90s, grew up on soul music. His father was a soul singer. His grandfather played the trumpet. And his uncle, Bill Curtis, was the leader of the Fatback Band — which he says made the first hip-hop single “King Tim III (Personality Jock) ” before “Rapper’s Delight” was released a few months later in 1979.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[aside postid='arts_13932030']Capri’s uncle gave him the opportunity to hear a rap song for the first time.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“I was right there,” Capri said about the Fatback Band, a funk and disco ensemble who became known for their R&B hits including “(Do the) Spanish Hustle,” “I Like Girls” and “I Found Lovin’.” But it was “King Tim III” that had a strong influence on him — especially since it came from family.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“The world thinks ‘Rapper’s Delight’ was the first rap record, but it was ‘Personality Jock,’” he said. “My uncle, he’s my family. He’s the one that did it. So, I’ve always been around it. That’s what made me be so infectious in it, because I’ve seen every level to where I’m at right now. I took all those things important to me on stage right now. When you see me on stage, you can see all those things wrapped up in me.”\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>Method Man\u003c/h2>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13932760\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13932760\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/GettyImages-1490509176-scaled-e1691446704452-800x543.jpg\" alt=\"A muscular Black man, wearing an NY baseball cap, white t-shirt and blue jeans strides across a stage, microphone held up to his open mouth.\" width=\"800\" height=\"543\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/GettyImages-1490509176-scaled-e1691446704452-800x543.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/GettyImages-1490509176-scaled-e1691446704452-1020x692.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/GettyImages-1490509176-scaled-e1691446704452-160x109.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/GettyImages-1490509176-scaled-e1691446704452-768x521.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/GettyImages-1490509176-scaled-e1691446704452-1536x1042.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/GettyImages-1490509176-scaled-e1691446704452.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Method Man performing in Atlanta in 2023. \u003ccite>(Prince Williams/ WireImage)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Yes, “Rapper’s Delight” was the first-ever rap song Method Man ever heard. But the first hip-hop song that really resonated with him was Run-D.M.C.’s “ Sucker MCs (Krush-Groove 1 ).”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“I had never heard this record and I thought I was up on everything at the time,” Method Man said of the 1983 song, which proceeded Run-D.M.C.’s first single “It’s Like That” from their self-titled album. He said “Sucker MCs” helped pave a way to usher in a new school of hip-hop artists.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“We were on a sixth-grade class trip to Long Island, and everybody was singing it word-for-word,” the \u003cem>Power Book II: Ghost\u003c/em> actor remembered. “They must have played that record 24 times on our class trip.”\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>Big Daddy Kane\u003c/h2>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13932671\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13932671\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/GettyImages-482124030-800x598.jpg\" alt=\"Close-up image of a Black man wearing a white shirt and rapping into a microphone on stage.\" width=\"800\" height=\"598\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/GettyImages-482124030-800x598.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/GettyImages-482124030-1020x762.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/GettyImages-482124030-160x120.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/GettyImages-482124030-768x574.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/GettyImages-482124030.jpg 1024w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Big Daddy Kane performing in 2015. \u003ccite>(Donna Ward/ Getty Images)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Around age 12, Big Daddy Kane might not have remembered all of his homework assignments, but he certainly could recite every lyric to the late Jimmy Spicer’s 1980 song “Adventures of Super Rhymes,” one of hip-hop’s first songs recorded in a studio.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Kane heard “Rapper’s Delight” first, but Spicer’s storytelling on the 15-minute song resonated with him the most.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“When this song came out, just the way Jimmy Spicer was styling on them and telling the story about Dracula and a story about Aladdin, I thought it was real slick,” he said.\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>DJ Jazzy Jeff\u003c/h2>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13932448\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13932448\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/07/DJ-Jazzy-Jeff-2-1-scaled-e1691447337494-800x600.jpg\" alt=\"A Black man wearing a white t-shirt and gold and white striped hat.\" width=\"800\" height=\"600\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/07/DJ-Jazzy-Jeff-2-1-scaled-e1691447337494-800x600.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/07/DJ-Jazzy-Jeff-2-1-scaled-e1691447337494-1020x765.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/07/DJ-Jazzy-Jeff-2-1-scaled-e1691447337494-160x120.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/07/DJ-Jazzy-Jeff-2-1-scaled-e1691447337494-768x576.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/07/DJ-Jazzy-Jeff-2-1-scaled-e1691447337494-1536x1152.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/07/DJ-Jazzy-Jeff-2-1-scaled-e1691447337494.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Jazzy Jeff DJs on stage.\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>DJ Jazzy Jeff always had an affinity for music. But when the \u003cem>Fresh Prince of Bel-Air\u003c/em> star heard “Rapper’s Delight” for the first time, he felt like the song spoke to him like no other.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“I think that was the first time I felt like the music was mine,” he said. “Before then, I loved the music, but the music was kind of my older brothers and sisters, and I just liked it because it was theirs. This was the one that somebody made just for me.”\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>Jermaine Dupri\u003c/h2>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13835189\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13835189\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/gettyimages-974991902_wide-00a7268466f1d74f29c7c836e83219f92b347249-800x450.jpg\" alt=\"A Black man with a bald head wears sunglasses and a tuxedo on a red carpet. He is holding an award and smiling.\" width=\"800\" height=\"450\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/gettyimages-974991902_wide-00a7268466f1d74f29c7c836e83219f92b347249-800x450.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/gettyimages-974991902_wide-00a7268466f1d74f29c7c836e83219f92b347249-160x90.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/gettyimages-974991902_wide-00a7268466f1d74f29c7c836e83219f92b347249-768x432.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/gettyimages-974991902_wide-00a7268466f1d74f29c7c836e83219f92b347249-1020x574.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/gettyimages-974991902_wide-00a7268466f1d74f29c7c836e83219f92b347249-1200x675.jpg 1200w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/gettyimages-974991902_wide-00a7268466f1d74f29c7c836e83219f92b347249-1920x1080.jpg 1920w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/gettyimages-974991902_wide-00a7268466f1d74f29c7c836e83219f92b347249-1180x664.jpg 1180w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/gettyimages-974991902_wide-00a7268466f1d74f29c7c836e83219f92b347249-960x540.jpg 960w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/gettyimages-974991902_wide-00a7268466f1d74f29c7c836e83219f92b347249-240x135.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/gettyimages-974991902_wide-00a7268466f1d74f29c7c836e83219f92b347249-375x211.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/gettyimages-974991902_wide-00a7268466f1d74f29c7c836e83219f92b347249-520x292.jpg 520w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/gettyimages-974991902_wide-00a7268466f1d74f29c7c836e83219f92b347249.jpg 2048w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Jermaine Dupri at the Songwriters Hall of Fame 49th Annual Induction and Awards Dinner on June 14, 2018 in New York City. \u003ccite>(Gary Gershoff/Getty Images)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Jermaine Dupri couldn’t have envisioned his successful career without listening to “Rapper’s Delight” around the age of 10.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“I remember the lyrics of the song. I remember it like it was yesterday,” said Dupri, a rap mogul who was inducted into the Songwriters Hall of Fame in 2018. “I just started learning the song. I never knew it was going to take me on this journey.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter size-medium wp-image-12127869\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-800x78.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"78\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-400x39.jpg 400w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-768x75.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad floatright]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>Find out more about hip-hop history with \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/bayareahiphop\">That’s My Word\u003c/a>, a KQED Arts & Culture series about the underrecognized influence and background of Bay Area rap.\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\n",
"stats": {
"hasVideo": false,
"hasChartOrMap": false,
"hasAudio": false,
"hasPolis": false,
"wordCount": 2486,
"hasGoogleForm": false,
"hasGallery": false,
"hasHearkenModule": false,
"iframeSrcs": [],
"paragraphCount": 51
},
"modified": 1705005179,
"excerpt": "The Sugarhill Gang’s “Rapper’s Delight” looms large as an influence, but it's not the only place these icons found inspiration.",
"headData": {
"twImgId": "",
"twTitle": "",
"ogTitle": "",
"ogImgId": "",
"twDescription": "",
"description": "The Sugarhill Gang’s “Rapper’s Delight” looms large as an influence, but it's not the only place these icons found inspiration.",
"title": "E-40, Too Short, Chuck D and More Rap Legends on Their Early Hip-Hop Influences | KQED",
"ogDescription": "",
"schema": {
"@context": "https://schema.org",
"@type": "Article",
"headline": "E-40, Too Short, Chuck D and More Rap Legends on Their Early Hip-Hop Influences",
"datePublished": "2023-08-08T07:48:32-07:00",
"dateModified": "2024-01-11T12:32:59-08:00",
"image": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/02/KQED-OG-Image@1x.png"
}
},
"guestAuthors": [],
"slug": "e-40-too-short-chuck-d-and-more-rap-legends-on-their-early-hip-hop-influences",
"status": "publish",
"templateType": "standard",
"nprByline": "Jonathan Landrum Jr., Gary Gerard Hamilton ",
"excludeFromSiteSearch": "Include",
"featuredImageType": "standard",
"sticky": false,
"showOnAuthorArchivePages": "No",
"articleAge": "0",
"path": "/arts/13932753/e-40-too-short-chuck-d-and-more-rap-legends-on-their-early-hip-hop-influences",
"audioTrackLength": null,
"parsedContent": [
{
"type": "contentString",
"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp>Remember the first rap song you heard? Some of your favorite rappers and DJs certainly do. While hip-hop celebrates 50 years of life, The Associated Press asked some of the genre’s most popular artists to recall their first memory of hearing rap and how the moment resonated with them.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In interviews with more than two dozen hip-hop legends, Queen Latifah, Chuck D, Method Man, E-40 and eight others cited The Sugarhill Gang’s “Rapper’s Delight” as the first rap song they heard. But not all were hooked on the new musical style by that track, and their answers reveal the sense of discovery that marked rap’s early years. (Watch videos of the \u003ca href=\"https://projects.apnews.com/features/2023/hip-hop-50th-in-their-own-words/index.html\">artists describing their early hip-hop influences here\u003c/a>.)\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Hip-hops roots are traced to 1973 in the Bronx and it took a few years before rap records emerged — “Rapper’s Delight” was a major catalyst for introducing rap music to a much broader audience.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Here are the stories of a dozen hip-hop stars who got hooked on the genre around the time “Rapper’s Delight” ruled.\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>Chuck D\u003c/h2>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13932754\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13932754\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/GettyImages-1144886924-scaled-e1691443762805-800x533.jpg\" alt=\"A middle aged Black man clutches a microphone and mic stand and smiles on stage. He is wearing a black t-shirt and black baseball cap.\" width=\"800\" height=\"533\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/GettyImages-1144886924-scaled-e1691443762805-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/GettyImages-1144886924-scaled-e1691443762805-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/GettyImages-1144886924-scaled-e1691443762805-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/GettyImages-1144886924-scaled-e1691443762805-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/GettyImages-1144886924-scaled-e1691443762805-1536x1024.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/GettyImages-1144886924-scaled-e1691443762805.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Public Enemy’s Chuck D performs in Berlin in 2019. \u003ccite>(Frank Hoensch/ Redferns)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>As a sophomore at Adelphi University, Chuck D was about to hit the stage to perform over the melody of Chic’s “Good Times” at a party in October 1979.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
"attributes": {
"named": {},
"numeric": []
}
},
{
"type": "component",
"content": "",
"name": "ad",
"attributes": {
"named": {
"label": "fullwidth"
},
"numeric": [
"fullwidth"
]
}
},
{
"type": "contentString",
"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>At least, that’s what he thought.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>When he stepped behind the microphone, Chuck D heard a different version of the song. It kept going and going for — 15 minutes straight.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
"attributes": {
"named": {},
"numeric": []
}
},
{
"type": "component",
"content": "",
"name": "aside",
"attributes": {
"named": {
"postid": "arts_13925958",
"label": ""
},
"numeric": []
}
},
{
"type": "contentString",
"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>“I get on the mic to rock the house. Then all of a sudden, I hear words behind me as I’m rockin’. I lipsync. The words keep going. (Expletive) are rockin’ for like 20 minutes,” said Chuck D, a member of the rap group Public Enemy who created “ Fight the Power,” one of hip-hop’s most iconic and important anthems.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“After it’s all over, cats are giving me high pounds like ‘You went on and on to the break of dawn dawg,’” he continued. “Back then, it’s about how long you can rap. I went and turned to the DJ and looked at the red label that said ‘Sugarhill Gang ‘Rapper’s Delight.’’ I was like ’Oh, they finally did it.’ They were talking all summer long that rap records were going to happen.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>He was stunned: “I was, like, ’It’s inconceivable. How could a rap be a record?′ I couldn’t see it. Nobody could see it. And then when it happened, boom.”\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>Queen Latifah\u003c/h2>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13932755\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13932755\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/GettyImages-1206547466-scaled-e1691444156901-800x563.jpg\" alt=\"A Black woman in an olive green jumpsuit performs on stage. She is holding a microphone up to her mouth.\" width=\"800\" height=\"563\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/GettyImages-1206547466-scaled-e1691444156901-800x563.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/GettyImages-1206547466-scaled-e1691444156901-1020x718.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/GettyImages-1206547466-scaled-e1691444156901-160x113.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/GettyImages-1206547466-scaled-e1691444156901-768x540.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/GettyImages-1206547466-scaled-e1691444156901-1536x1081.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/GettyImages-1206547466-scaled-e1691444156901.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Queen Latifah performing in Chicago in 2020. \u003ccite>(Kevin Mazur/Getty Images)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>For Queen Latifah, “Rapper’s Delight” was the first rap song she and a lot of others heard and memorized where she grew up in Newark, New Jersey. But the biggest record in her world as a kid was Afrika Bambaattaa and the Soul Sonic Force’s 1982 song “ Planet Rock. ”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>While the Oscar-nominated actor can be seen chasing bad guys on CBS’ \u003cem>The Equalizer\u003c/em>, many forget her roots as a rapper, with hits like “U.N.I.T.Y.” and “Just Another Day.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“It changed the sound,” she said. “It’s more of a synthesized, 808s, hi-hats. The whole sound of it was different. Some of hip-hop in the original days was live music. It was live bands playing break records. Like ‘Good Times’ was the beat to ‘Rapper’s Delight.’ Some of those records took actual disco records, played the music and rhymed to them.”\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>E-40\u003c/h2>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13840957\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13840957\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2018/09/MG_0970-1-800x533.jpg\" alt=\"E-40 plays Rolling Loud Bay Area on Sunday, September 16, 2018.\" width=\"800\" height=\"533\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/09/MG_0970-1-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/09/MG_0970-1-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/09/MG_0970-1-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/09/MG_0970-1-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/09/MG_0970-1-1200x800.jpg 1200w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/09/MG_0970-1.jpg 1920w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/09/MG_0970-1-1180x787.jpg 1180w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/09/MG_0970-1-960x640.jpg 960w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/09/MG_0970-1-240x160.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/09/MG_0970-1-375x250.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/09/MG_0970-1-520x347.jpg 520w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">E-40 plays Rolling Loud Bay Area on Sunday, September 16, 2018. \u003ccite>(Estefany Gonzalez)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>While heading to school as a seventh grader in 1979, E-40 heard a new rap tune on a local radio station that normally played R&B and soul music in Northern California.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
"attributes": {
"named": {},
"numeric": []
}
},
{
"type": "component",
"content": "",
"name": "aside",
"attributes": {
"named": {
"postid": "arts_13932488",
"label": ""
},
"numeric": []
}
},
{
"type": "contentString",
"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>It was “Rapper’s Delight,” which interpolated Chic’s hit “Good Times.” That’s when he knew hip-hop was going to be a part of his life forever.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“I was like ‘Ohh, this is hard. I’m hooked,’” said E-40, who recalled the moment while driving to Franklin Middle School in Vallejo, California. He and fellow rapper B-Legit used to sport the same kind of fedora hats and big gold rope chains Run-D.M.C. performed in.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“From then on, I loved rap. In 1979, when I first heard The Sugarhill Gang, I wanted to be a rapper. I would play around with it … We grew up on New York rap. All of us did. We wanted to be hip-hop. We wanted to breakdance. We did it all.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“But that changed everything after we heard Sugarhill Gang. Next thing you know, you’re hearing Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five, Kurtis Blow and ‘Roxannne, Roxanne.’”\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>Lil Jon\u003c/h2>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13932756\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13932756\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/GettyImages-509006782-scaled-e1691444783893-800x533.jpg\" alt=\"A smiling Black man wearing sunglasses, a grey hoodie and blue jeans sits on a couch next to a black wall.\" width=\"800\" height=\"533\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/GettyImages-509006782-scaled-e1691444783893-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/GettyImages-509006782-scaled-e1691444783893-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/GettyImages-509006782-scaled-e1691444783893-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/GettyImages-509006782-scaled-e1691444783893-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/GettyImages-509006782-scaled-e1691444783893-1536x1024.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/GettyImages-509006782-scaled-e1691444783893.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Lil Jon backstage before a DJ set at Temple Nightclub in San Francisco, 2016. \u003ccite>(Kelly Sullivan/ Getty Images)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>“Rapper’s Delight” was probably the first hip-hop song Lil Jon heard. But he became a “super fan” of the genre as a middle schooler in Atlanta after seeing rap groups the Fat Boys and Whodini. It was his first time seeing professional rappers onstage.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“I might have been a fan of rap before, but I had never been to a rap concert. I’ve never seen rappers in person,” he said. “Maybe just in the magazines. That turned me into like … a super fan of hip-hop.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The first hip-hop record Lil-Jon bought was Run D.M.C.’s “Sucker M.C.’s (Krush-Groove 1).”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“I remembered my homeboy that lived in the neighborhood. I had to go through some woods to his house with the album,” he said. “We put the album on at his house. We were going crazy over listening to lyrics and beats.”\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>Roxanne Shante\u003c/h2>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13930911\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13930911\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/06/GettyImages-1491748126-scaled-e1687807323886-800x533.jpg\" alt=\"A Black woman stands onstage smiling broadly. She is wearing an off the shoulder red gown and holding her hands out in a half shrug.\" width=\"800\" height=\"533\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/06/GettyImages-1491748126-scaled-e1687807323886-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/06/GettyImages-1491748126-scaled-e1687807323886-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/06/GettyImages-1491748126-scaled-e1687807323886-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/06/GettyImages-1491748126-scaled-e1687807323886-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/06/GettyImages-1491748126-scaled-e1687807323886-1536x1024.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/06/GettyImages-1491748126-scaled-e1687807323886.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Roxanne Shante at the 2023 Black Music Honors in Atlanta, Georgia. \u003ccite>(Nykieria Chaney/ Getty Images)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Roxanne Shante’s first rap experience didn’t come in song form. She was introduced to hip-hop through the late comedian-poet Nipsey Russell.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
"attributes": {
"named": {},
"numeric": []
}
},
{
"type": "component",
"content": "",
"name": "aside",
"attributes": {
"named": {
"postid": "arts_13931795",
"label": ""
},
"numeric": []
}
},
{
"type": "contentString",
"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>“He had the ability to rhyme at any time,” said Shante, a host for SiriusXM’s Rock the Bells Radio. At age 14, she became one of the first female rappers to become popular after her song “Roxanne’s Revenge” and gained more notoriety as a member of the Juice Crew. She also took part in \u003cem>Roxanne Wars\u003c/em>, which was a series of hip-hop rivalries in the mid-1980s.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Shante said “Rapper’s Delight” was the record most parents brought into their home as the “party song.” But in her mind, Russell had just as much of an impact.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“That would be my first encounter with loving what would become hip-hop,” she continued. “This way of having a certain cadence, this way of being able to do these certain rhymes was just incredible to me … He was able to freestyle all day, every day. And that’s who I am. That’s what I still do today.”\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>Too Short\u003c/h2>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13922549\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13922549\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2022/12/GettyImages-1143940667-1-800x545.jpg\" alt=\"a Black man raps into a microphone on a stage with the words 'Too $hort' behind him in blue lights\" width=\"800\" height=\"545\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2022/12/GettyImages-1143940667-1-800x545.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2022/12/GettyImages-1143940667-1-1020x695.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2022/12/GettyImages-1143940667-1-160x109.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2022/12/GettyImages-1143940667-1-768x523.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2022/12/GettyImages-1143940667-1-1536x1047.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2022/12/GettyImages-1143940667-1-2048x1395.jpg 2048w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2022/12/GettyImages-1143940667-1-1920x1308.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Too Short performs during the ‘25th Anniversary of Doggystyle’ tour at Oracle Arena, Oakland. \u003ccite>(Tim Mosenfelder/Getty Images)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>It’s 1979. Too Short was around 13 years old. He normally listened to a variety of funk songs ranging from the Ohio Players’ “Love Rollercoaster” and Funkadelic’s “Knee Deep.” Then one day at his father’s house, he heard “Rapper’s Delight” blaring through a stereo system.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
"attributes": {
"named": {},
"numeric": []
}
},
{
"type": "component",
"content": "",
"name": "aside",
"attributes": {
"named": {
"postid": "arts_13927349",
"label": ""
},
"numeric": []
}
},
{
"type": "contentString",
"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>“I was on my funk stuff, then this ‘Rapper’s Delight’ record came out and it was like 15 minutes long,” he recalled. “I’d be at my pop’s house just bumping the loud stereo.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>As “Rapper’s Delight” gained momentum in 1980, Too Short gravitated more toward beatboxing. That led him to hit up the local record store where he would buy the latest hip-hop album then blasted it on his radio for anyone to hear in Oakland.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“I had to get a radio with two speakers. That was mandatory,” he said. “I was the guy with the radio who was hitting play going ‘You ain’t never heard that before’ … I had the whole room, the whole bus jumping.”\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>Doug E. Fresh\u003c/h2>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13932758\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13932758\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/GettyImages-1563180184-scaled-e1691445859451-800x553.jpg\" alt=\"A Black man raises both his arms in the air and strides forward on stage. He is wearing a white t-shirt, black jacket and black pants. Stage lights beam all around him.\" width=\"800\" height=\"553\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/GettyImages-1563180184-scaled-e1691445859451-800x553.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/GettyImages-1563180184-scaled-e1691445859451-1020x705.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/GettyImages-1563180184-scaled-e1691445859451-160x111.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/GettyImages-1563180184-scaled-e1691445859451-768x531.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/GettyImages-1563180184-scaled-e1691445859451-1536x1062.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/GettyImages-1563180184-scaled-e1691445859451.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Doug E. Fresh onstage in New York City in 2023. \u003ccite>(Johnny Nunez/ WireImage)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Hearing “Rapper’s Delight” for the first time changed the trajectory of Doug E. Fresh’s life.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“I remember when my sister came home and told me about a guy named D.J. Hollywood, who we considered the first real M.C.,” he said. “She came home and told me about a rap he had. And the rap went, ‘Ding, ding, ding, ding, dong, dong, dong the dang, the dang, dang, dang, the ding dong dong. To the hip hop…’”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Fresh then added: “I turned around and said, ‘Teach me that, show me.’ And after that, it’s been me and hip-hop since that point.”\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>DJ Kid Capri\u003c/h2>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13932759\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13932759\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/GettyImages-1576356953-scaled-e1691446543374-800x533.jpg\" alt=\"A mixed race man wearing a black Givenchy t-shirt smiles from behind DJ decks, holding one side of a set of headphones on his head.\" width=\"800\" height=\"533\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/GettyImages-1576356953-scaled-e1691446543374-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/GettyImages-1576356953-scaled-e1691446543374-1020x679.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/GettyImages-1576356953-scaled-e1691446543374-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/GettyImages-1576356953-scaled-e1691446543374-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/GettyImages-1576356953-scaled-e1691446543374-1536x1023.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/GettyImages-1576356953-scaled-e1691446543374.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Kid Capri DJing in Houston in 2023. \u003ccite>(Marcus Ingram/ Getty Images)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>DJ Kid Capri, arguably one of hip-hop’s most famous DJs in the ‘90s, grew up on soul music. His father was a soul singer. His grandfather played the trumpet. And his uncle, Bill Curtis, was the leader of the Fatback Band — which he says made the first hip-hop single “King Tim III (Personality Jock) ” before “Rapper’s Delight” was released a few months later in 1979.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
"attributes": {
"named": {},
"numeric": []
}
},
{
"type": "component",
"content": "",
"name": "aside",
"attributes": {
"named": {
"postid": "arts_13932030",
"label": ""
},
"numeric": []
}
},
{
"type": "contentString",
"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>Capri’s uncle gave him the opportunity to hear a rap song for the first time.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“I was right there,” Capri said about the Fatback Band, a funk and disco ensemble who became known for their R&B hits including “(Do the) Spanish Hustle,” “I Like Girls” and “I Found Lovin’.” But it was “King Tim III” that had a strong influence on him — especially since it came from family.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“The world thinks ‘Rapper’s Delight’ was the first rap record, but it was ‘Personality Jock,’” he said. “My uncle, he’s my family. He’s the one that did it. So, I’ve always been around it. That’s what made me be so infectious in it, because I’ve seen every level to where I’m at right now. I took all those things important to me on stage right now. When you see me on stage, you can see all those things wrapped up in me.”\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>Method Man\u003c/h2>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13932760\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13932760\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/GettyImages-1490509176-scaled-e1691446704452-800x543.jpg\" alt=\"A muscular Black man, wearing an NY baseball cap, white t-shirt and blue jeans strides across a stage, microphone held up to his open mouth.\" width=\"800\" height=\"543\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/GettyImages-1490509176-scaled-e1691446704452-800x543.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/GettyImages-1490509176-scaled-e1691446704452-1020x692.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/GettyImages-1490509176-scaled-e1691446704452-160x109.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/GettyImages-1490509176-scaled-e1691446704452-768x521.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/GettyImages-1490509176-scaled-e1691446704452-1536x1042.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/GettyImages-1490509176-scaled-e1691446704452.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Method Man performing in Atlanta in 2023. \u003ccite>(Prince Williams/ WireImage)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Yes, “Rapper’s Delight” was the first-ever rap song Method Man ever heard. But the first hip-hop song that really resonated with him was Run-D.M.C.’s “ Sucker MCs (Krush-Groove 1 ).”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“I had never heard this record and I thought I was up on everything at the time,” Method Man said of the 1983 song, which proceeded Run-D.M.C.’s first single “It’s Like That” from their self-titled album. He said “Sucker MCs” helped pave a way to usher in a new school of hip-hop artists.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“We were on a sixth-grade class trip to Long Island, and everybody was singing it word-for-word,” the \u003cem>Power Book II: Ghost\u003c/em> actor remembered. “They must have played that record 24 times on our class trip.”\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>Big Daddy Kane\u003c/h2>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13932671\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13932671\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/GettyImages-482124030-800x598.jpg\" alt=\"Close-up image of a Black man wearing a white shirt and rapping into a microphone on stage.\" width=\"800\" height=\"598\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/GettyImages-482124030-800x598.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/GettyImages-482124030-1020x762.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/GettyImages-482124030-160x120.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/GettyImages-482124030-768x574.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/08/GettyImages-482124030.jpg 1024w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Big Daddy Kane performing in 2015. \u003ccite>(Donna Ward/ Getty Images)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Around age 12, Big Daddy Kane might not have remembered all of his homework assignments, but he certainly could recite every lyric to the late Jimmy Spicer’s 1980 song “Adventures of Super Rhymes,” one of hip-hop’s first songs recorded in a studio.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Kane heard “Rapper’s Delight” first, but Spicer’s storytelling on the 15-minute song resonated with him the most.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“When this song came out, just the way Jimmy Spicer was styling on them and telling the story about Dracula and a story about Aladdin, I thought it was real slick,” he said.\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>DJ Jazzy Jeff\u003c/h2>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13932448\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13932448\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/07/DJ-Jazzy-Jeff-2-1-scaled-e1691447337494-800x600.jpg\" alt=\"A Black man wearing a white t-shirt and gold and white striped hat.\" width=\"800\" height=\"600\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/07/DJ-Jazzy-Jeff-2-1-scaled-e1691447337494-800x600.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/07/DJ-Jazzy-Jeff-2-1-scaled-e1691447337494-1020x765.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/07/DJ-Jazzy-Jeff-2-1-scaled-e1691447337494-160x120.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/07/DJ-Jazzy-Jeff-2-1-scaled-e1691447337494-768x576.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/07/DJ-Jazzy-Jeff-2-1-scaled-e1691447337494-1536x1152.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/07/DJ-Jazzy-Jeff-2-1-scaled-e1691447337494.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Jazzy Jeff DJs on stage.\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>DJ Jazzy Jeff always had an affinity for music. But when the \u003cem>Fresh Prince of Bel-Air\u003c/em> star heard “Rapper’s Delight” for the first time, he felt like the song spoke to him like no other.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“I think that was the first time I felt like the music was mine,” he said. “Before then, I loved the music, but the music was kind of my older brothers and sisters, and I just liked it because it was theirs. This was the one that somebody made just for me.”\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>Jermaine Dupri\u003c/h2>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13835189\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13835189\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/gettyimages-974991902_wide-00a7268466f1d74f29c7c836e83219f92b347249-800x450.jpg\" alt=\"A Black man with a bald head wears sunglasses and a tuxedo on a red carpet. He is holding an award and smiling.\" width=\"800\" height=\"450\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/gettyimages-974991902_wide-00a7268466f1d74f29c7c836e83219f92b347249-800x450.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/gettyimages-974991902_wide-00a7268466f1d74f29c7c836e83219f92b347249-160x90.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/gettyimages-974991902_wide-00a7268466f1d74f29c7c836e83219f92b347249-768x432.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/gettyimages-974991902_wide-00a7268466f1d74f29c7c836e83219f92b347249-1020x574.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/gettyimages-974991902_wide-00a7268466f1d74f29c7c836e83219f92b347249-1200x675.jpg 1200w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/gettyimages-974991902_wide-00a7268466f1d74f29c7c836e83219f92b347249-1920x1080.jpg 1920w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/gettyimages-974991902_wide-00a7268466f1d74f29c7c836e83219f92b347249-1180x664.jpg 1180w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/gettyimages-974991902_wide-00a7268466f1d74f29c7c836e83219f92b347249-960x540.jpg 960w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/gettyimages-974991902_wide-00a7268466f1d74f29c7c836e83219f92b347249-240x135.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/gettyimages-974991902_wide-00a7268466f1d74f29c7c836e83219f92b347249-375x211.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/gettyimages-974991902_wide-00a7268466f1d74f29c7c836e83219f92b347249-520x292.jpg 520w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/gettyimages-974991902_wide-00a7268466f1d74f29c7c836e83219f92b347249.jpg 2048w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Jermaine Dupri at the Songwriters Hall of Fame 49th Annual Induction and Awards Dinner on June 14, 2018 in New York City. \u003ccite>(Gary Gershoff/Getty Images)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Jermaine Dupri couldn’t have envisioned his successful career without listening to “Rapper’s Delight” around the age of 10.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“I remember the lyrics of the song. I remember it like it was yesterday,” said Dupri, a rap mogul who was inducted into the Songwriters Hall of Fame in 2018. “I just started learning the song. I never knew it was going to take me on this journey.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter size-medium wp-image-12127869\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-800x78.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"78\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-400x39.jpg 400w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-768x75.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
"attributes": {
"named": {},
"numeric": []
}
},
{
"type": "component",
"content": "",
"name": "ad",
"attributes": {
"named": {
"label": "floatright"
},
"numeric": [
"floatright"
]
}
},
{
"type": "contentString",
"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>Find out more about hip-hop history with \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/bayareahiphop\">That’s My Word\u003c/a>, a KQED Arts & Culture series about the underrecognized influence and background of Bay Area rap.\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>",
"attributes": {
"named": {},
"numeric": []
}
}
],
"link": "/arts/13932753/e-40-too-short-chuck-d-and-more-rap-legends-on-their-early-hip-hop-influences",
"authors": [
"byline_arts_13932753"
],
"categories": [
"arts_1",
"arts_7862",
"arts_69",
"arts_75"
],
"tags": [
"arts_21384",
"arts_10659",
"arts_1601",
"arts_10278",
"arts_831",
"arts_1420",
"arts_20994",
"arts_3478",
"arts_3800"
],
"featImg": "arts_13932763",
"label": "arts"
},
"arts_13931355": {
"type": "posts",
"id": "arts_13931355",
"meta": {
"index": "posts_1716263798",
"site": "arts",
"id": "13931355",
"score": null,
"sort": [
1689270344000
]
},
"guestAuthors": [],
"slug": "michael-sneed-is-more-than-a-vibe-hes-a-symbol-for-oakland",
"title": "Michael Sneed Is More Than a Vibe — He’s a Symbol for Oakland",
"publishDate": 1689270344,
"format": "standard",
"headTitle": "Michael Sneed Is More Than a Vibe — He’s a Symbol for Oakland | KQED",
"labelTerm": {
"site": "arts"
},
"content": "\u003cp>Walking around 15th Street in Oakland on a Friday afternoon — past beloved eateries like Minto’s Jamaican Restaurant & Bar, Baba’s House and Hoza Pizzeria — reminds me of what makes the Bay Area such a vibrant destination. On our best days, no one is beating our pound-for-pound cultural offerings.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Our region is also struggling: we’ve made headlines in recent months for rising crime, the fentanyl crisis and other challenges. Many of those criticisms are arguably hyperbolized or oversimplifications of social issues with systemic root causes. But there are undoubtedly real shortcomings that make it difficult for longtime residents, particularly creatives and working- and middle-class families, to thrive along this wondrously fog-filled coast.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Personally, I’ve grappled with what it means to be from a place that doesn’t have many affordable spaces left, and I wonder about the psychological consequences of that daily erasure. It’s no secret that Bay Area cities \u003ca href=\"https://www.cnbc.com/2023/05/26/most-expensive-cities-to-raise-a-child-in-the-us.html\">regularly lead the nation as the most expensive zip codes\u003c/a> in which to raise a family.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Michael Sneed — an East Oakland rapper, producer and vocalist — explores this duality on his latest EP, \u003ci>Junior Varsity Blues\u003c/i>. The record is a poetic manifesto, colored by jaded grief about displacement and his changing community. But he doesn’t shy away from expressing hometown pride, either. Having started out rapping at age 15, the 24-year-old is now unlocking his vocal superpowers to share narratives about Black joy, personal malaise, reclamation, nostalgia and the importance of friendships amid the swirling chaos of tech-fueled capitalism.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13880362\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"wp-image-13880362 size-medium\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2020/05/Holiday18-preview_090-800x533.jpeg\" alt=\"three young men sit on a sofa in a music studio\" width=\"800\" height=\"533\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2020/05/Holiday18-preview_090-800x533.jpeg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2020/05/Holiday18-preview_090-160x107.jpeg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2020/05/Holiday18-preview_090-768x512.jpeg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2020/05/Holiday18-preview_090-1020x680.jpeg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2020/05/Holiday18-preview_090-1920x1280.jpeg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Michael Sneed (center) at Different Fur Studios in San Francisco with Mikos da Gawd (left) and WADE08 (right). \u003ccite>(Erin Conger)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Sneed grew up in the 100s section of Deep East Oakland with his parents and older sisters. He lives on a block that is still predominantly Black, where close-knit families support each other. He’s fortunate, Sneed tells me. But for many lifelong Oaklanders, particularly Black, Latinx and Pacific Islanders, \u003ca href=\"https://bayareaequityatlas.org/node/65531\">the city’s dramatic shifts have made it nearly impossible to remain.\u003c/a>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>It’s not news that the Bay Area’s inequities disproportionately affect the Black community. “The slow churn of the erasure of the region’s historic communities that birthed the Black Panther Party and raised the likes of Maya Angelou and Etta James is well underway,” \u003ca href=\"https://capitalbnews.org/climate-reparations-bay-area/\">writes Adam Mahoney\u003c/a>, in a piece on climate reparations, reporting that the nine-county region’s Black population has decreased by 20% since 1990, while the total population has grown by 25%.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>As we wander downtown Oakland, Sneed recalls the city he grew up in, and what he most misses about it: poetry slams and open mics for youth, Monta Ellis on the Golden State Warriors, and most importantly, his peers and friends who have had to move away.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13931359\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13931359\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/07/michaelsneed_JY_016-800x533.jpg\" alt=\"A young Oakland rapper leans against a wall in Oakland on a sunny day\" width=\"800\" height=\"533\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/07/michaelsneed_JY_016-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/07/michaelsneed_JY_016-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/07/michaelsneed_JY_016-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/07/michaelsneed_JY_016-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/07/michaelsneed_JY_016-1536x1024.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/07/michaelsneed_JY_016-2048x1366.jpg 2048w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/07/michaelsneed_JY_016-1920x1280.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Michael Sneed poses for a portrait in Oakland. \u003ccite>(Juliana Yamada)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>“No one has been immediately displaced in my family, but I’ve had peers who can’t find housing because it’s too expensive,” he says. “There’s no reason why there should be people houseless on freeways in tents. It shouldn’t be a thing. The whole purpose of having a government is to prevent that and to protect the people, especially if you have a government with as much money as the United States and California. There’s no reason.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Following a\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8BAPTZcMtMI\"> song collaboration and high-profile tour with P-Lo,\u003c/a> Sneed returned to The Town more attuned than ever to what makes the Bay Area simultaneously special and intolerable. A particularly poignant example of his gospel-inspired sound is “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MGuS7hnPNyc\">Paw Patrol\u003c/a>,” accompanied by a music video filmed in his neighborhood that evokes a homely retro vibe.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MGuS7hnPNyc\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Forced migration and gentrification are prevalent themes in his music, especially on tracks like \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/news/11940879/michael-sneed-city\">“City,” which outline the rapper’s frustrations with houselessness and exorbitant rents. \u003c/a>With a high-pitched voice that many have compared to Chicago’s Chance the Rapper, Sneed weaves in and out of intonations with a choir-trained precision that borders on falsetto, presenting a simple but profound question as the song’s hook: “Ayo the block don’t look the same as it used to, where my city go?”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Combined with deep reflections about his family’s health (most notably, the painful loss of his grandmother and aunt), the birth of his niece, playing basketball as a teenager, and criticisms of the tech industry, the seven-track project presents a layered portrait of a young, Black man who graduated from Howard University who is living as joyfully as he can under the crushing weight of Northern California’s demands. It’s a theme many local artists have explored in their music. But with Sneed, there’s a touch of theatrics and a goofy lovability that’s rare in East Oakland rap.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>One of the album’s standout singles, “The Answer,” draws from the artist’s love of hoops (functioning as a reference to the iconic point guard, Allen Iverson, who was known as both A.I. and The Answer in his playing days) while expressing his flamboyance with clever wordplay: “When I was five I used to get in trouble for coloring out of the lines/ why if you colored they want you to stay in the line/ I feel like A.I. up in his prime.” The video, which is titled “the world’s first A.I. music video,” reached 16,000 views in one month (and no, it is not the world’s first A.I. music video).\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13925558\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13925558\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/02/Michael-Sneed-performs-at-Brick-and-Mortar-Music-Hall-in-San-Francisco-on-Wednesday-Wednesday-Feb.-22-2023.--800x533.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"533\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/02/Michael-Sneed-performs-at-Brick-and-Mortar-Music-Hall-in-San-Francisco-on-Wednesday-Wednesday-Feb.-22-2023.--800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/02/Michael-Sneed-performs-at-Brick-and-Mortar-Music-Hall-in-San-Francisco-on-Wednesday-Wednesday-Feb.-22-2023.--1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/02/Michael-Sneed-performs-at-Brick-and-Mortar-Music-Hall-in-San-Francisco-on-Wednesday-Wednesday-Feb.-22-2023.--160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/02/Michael-Sneed-performs-at-Brick-and-Mortar-Music-Hall-in-San-Francisco-on-Wednesday-Wednesday-Feb.-22-2023.--768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/02/Michael-Sneed-performs-at-Brick-and-Mortar-Music-Hall-in-San-Francisco-on-Wednesday-Wednesday-Feb.-22-2023.--1536x1024.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/02/Michael-Sneed-performs-at-Brick-and-Mortar-Music-Hall-in-San-Francisco-on-Wednesday-Wednesday-Feb.-22-2023.-.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Michael Sneed performs at Brick and Mortar Music Hall in San Francisco on Feb. 22, 2023. \u003ccite>(Estefany Gonzalez)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>“I wasn’t thinking of \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13928457/chatgpt-says-these-are-the-best-bay-area-rap-albums-of-all-time\">artificial intelligence \u003c/a>at all,” Sneed tells me inside The Hatch, a Black-owned bar in the city, while sipping on a non-alcoholic lemonade. “That song to me is kind of using Allen Iverson as this guy who did his own thing. He wore the baggy shorts, the gold chains. He said ‘I’m gonna be so hip-hop that it makes you uncomfortable.’ And he was almost punished because of that. [This song is about] using him, or his avatar, as a way to highlight Black men like that.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“A.I. was so fearless and unapologetically himself and hip-hop, and it kind of gave athletes [and] people of the culture in general freedom to express themselves in spaces that aren’t necessarily hip-hop or basketball,” he continues. “That’s tight about him. I don’t think he gets enough props for that. In a way, he was postmodernist.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Basketball is a major element of \u003cem>Junior Varsity Blues\u003c/em>, with fictional skits of a team tryout peppering the 23-minute project. It’s the only sport Sneed grew up playing, and it’s how he bonded with his peers and family members. For an artsy kid, it gave him an unexpected outlet.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“Even though I wasn’t good, it was important to me,” he admits. “I was always daydreaming, never paying attention. I dressed goofy. I showed up [to play basketball] in church socks. But it’s how I met a lot of friends in high school.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VwCgGd-dDn0\u003c/p>\n\u003cp> \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>With \u003ca href=\"https://www.theringer.com/nba-draft/2023/3/28/23657469/amen-ausar-thompson-twins-2023-nba-draft-overtime-elite\">his younger twin cousins recently entering the NBA as nationally touted prospects\u003c/a>, Sneed appreciates what athletics can provide for a community. But he doesn’t overly glamorize the sport, either. His music regularly veers into his more niche interests — like anime (which his Nickelodeon’s \u003cem>Avatar\u003c/em>-inspired tagline, “Yip! Yip!” makes clear in every verse) and Broadway musical productions like \u003ci>The Lion King\u003c/i> and \u003ci>Wicked \u003c/i>(his EP features a song titled “WICKED”).\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Despite his introspective nerdisms, though, it’s not all “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=poIXEf0k9oo\">Hula Hoop\u003c/a>” and “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6BJPSKr0DBQ\">Hopscotch\u003c/a>” games for Sneed. Beyond the lighthearted inner child hardwired into his raps, his songs inevitably return to heavy subject matter, like contemplating the death of Black Panther Party leaders, having emotional withdrawals while withdrawing money from the bank and losing faith in God over slow-paced, self-produced instrumentals. Songs like “It’s Impossible! It’s a Miracle!” serve as cathartic hymnals, presenting the rapper in his most vulnerable state as he rattles off a litany of impossible life challenges.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“There was so much adversity [at the time of writing the song]. Mending felt like it would be a miracle,” Sneed says. “I’m only myself because of how hard things can be. I need someone to tell me it’ll be alright. I’m always trying to put that in my music. It’s really just me speaking to myself. If my words can help someone else through those tough Monday mornings, then alright. That’s powerful. It’s to help me, and to help others.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13931357\" class=\"wp-caption alignnone\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13931357\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/07/michaelsneed_JY_004-800x533.jpg\" alt=\"A young Oakland rapper leans against the glass window outside of the Fox Theater\" width=\"800\" height=\"533\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/07/michaelsneed_JY_004-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/07/michaelsneed_JY_004-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/07/michaelsneed_JY_004-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/07/michaelsneed_JY_004-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/07/michaelsneed_JY_004-1536x1024.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/07/michaelsneed_JY_004-2048x1365.jpg 2048w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/07/michaelsneed_JY_004-1920x1280.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Bay Area rapper Michael Sneed poses for a portrait in front of the Fox Theatre. Sneed grew up consuming theatre and his roots now influence his music. \u003ccite>(Juliana Yamada)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Currently an unsigned artist, the ascendant Oaklander is considering a move to Los Angeles, where other successful East Bay artists like Kehlani, G Eazy and P-Lo have already relocated. It’s relatively common for Bay Area artists — particularly rappers — to leave the Bay. There’s a cross-national migratory route to Atlanta that has been popularized by Too $hort and Iamsu!. And, of course there’s New York City, which is the current residence of \u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/reyresurreccion/?hl=en\">Rey Resurreccion\u003c/a> and serves as a part-time getaway for \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13908051/rising-artist-ovrkast-makes-introspective-rap-for-cloudy-days\">Ovrkast., one of Sneed’s best friends\u003c/a> and closest collaborators. \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13908051/rising-artist-ovrkast-makes-introspective-rap-for-cloudy-days\">It’s a phenomenon that KQED’s Pendarvis Harshaw once dubbed “\u003c/a>\u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13846175/ian-kelly-and-the-role-of-the-bay-area-expatriate\">the role of the Bay Area expatriate\u003c/a>\u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13908051/rising-artist-ovrkast-makes-introspective-rap-for-cloudy-days\">” in music.\u003c/a>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Even if Sneed can’t afford to remain in his city of birth, or feels like artistic opportunities are greater elsewhere, he plans to stay connected to his home in the East Bay. He’s done it before, when he left Oakland for Washington D.C. to attend university, then came back. The temporary move expanded his sense of self and place, bolstering his appreciation — and complex understanding — for his return.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Regardless of wherever Sneed lands, he’ll take East Oakland with him. As he declares on “WICKED,” “I’m not a vibe, I’m a symbol to my city.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"alignnone size-medium wp-image-12127869\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-800x78.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"78\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-400x39.jpg 400w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-768x75.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>Michael Sneed’s \u003ca href=\"https://open.spotify.com/album/1SIeFvO8So4ow0vcFosVQ6\">‘Junior Varsity Blues’ \u003c/a> is available on all streaming platforms. His recent tourmate, P-Lo, will be at \u003ca href=\"https://twitter.com/p_lo/status/1676792144466710528\">STUNNA’s Shop at Stashed SF\u003c/a> (2360 3rd St., SF) on Sat., July 15 from 4 – 8 p.m. \u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad floatright]\u003c/p>\n",
"blocks": [],
"excerpt": "On ‘Junior Varsity Blues,’ the ascendant rapper-producer grapples with the changing face of his hometown.",
"status": "publish",
"parent": 0,
"modified": 1726758445,
"stats": {
"hasAudio": false,
"hasVideo": true,
"hasChartOrMap": false,
"iframeSrcs": [],
"hasGoogleForm": false,
"hasGallery": false,
"hasHearkenModule": false,
"hasPolis": false,
"paragraphCount": 26,
"wordCount": 1881
},
"headData": {
"title": "Michael Sneed Is More Than a Vibe — He’s a Symbol for Oakland | KQED",
"description": "On ‘Junior Varsity Blues,’ the ascendant rapper-producer grapples with the changing face of his hometown.",
"ogTitle": "",
"ogDescription": "",
"ogImgId": "",
"twTitle": "",
"twDescription": "",
"twImgId": "",
"schema": {
"@context": "https://schema.org",
"@type": "Article",
"headline": "Michael Sneed Is More Than a Vibe — He’s a Symbol for Oakland",
"datePublished": "2023-07-13T10:45:44-07:00",
"dateModified": "2024-09-19T08:07:25-07:00",
"image": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/02/KQED-OG-Image@1x.png"
}
},
"sticky": false,
"excludeFromSiteSearch": "Include",
"articleAge": "0",
"path": "/arts/13931355/michael-sneed-is-more-than-a-vibe-hes-a-symbol-for-oakland",
"audioTrackLength": null,
"parsedContent": [
{
"type": "contentString",
"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp>Walking around 15th Street in Oakland on a Friday afternoon — past beloved eateries like Minto’s Jamaican Restaurant & Bar, Baba’s House and Hoza Pizzeria — reminds me of what makes the Bay Area such a vibrant destination. On our best days, no one is beating our pound-for-pound cultural offerings.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Our region is also struggling: we’ve made headlines in recent months for rising crime, the fentanyl crisis and other challenges. Many of those criticisms are arguably hyperbolized or oversimplifications of social issues with systemic root causes. But there are undoubtedly real shortcomings that make it difficult for longtime residents, particularly creatives and working- and middle-class families, to thrive along this wondrously fog-filled coast.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Personally, I’ve grappled with what it means to be from a place that doesn’t have many affordable spaces left, and I wonder about the psychological consequences of that daily erasure. It’s no secret that Bay Area cities \u003ca href=\"https://www.cnbc.com/2023/05/26/most-expensive-cities-to-raise-a-child-in-the-us.html\">regularly lead the nation as the most expensive zip codes\u003c/a> in which to raise a family.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Michael Sneed — an East Oakland rapper, producer and vocalist — explores this duality on his latest EP, \u003ci>Junior Varsity Blues\u003c/i>. The record is a poetic manifesto, colored by jaded grief about displacement and his changing community. But he doesn’t shy away from expressing hometown pride, either. Having started out rapping at age 15, the 24-year-old is now unlocking his vocal superpowers to share narratives about Black joy, personal malaise, reclamation, nostalgia and the importance of friendships amid the swirling chaos of tech-fueled capitalism.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13880362\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"wp-image-13880362 size-medium\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2020/05/Holiday18-preview_090-800x533.jpeg\" alt=\"three young men sit on a sofa in a music studio\" width=\"800\" height=\"533\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2020/05/Holiday18-preview_090-800x533.jpeg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2020/05/Holiday18-preview_090-160x107.jpeg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2020/05/Holiday18-preview_090-768x512.jpeg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2020/05/Holiday18-preview_090-1020x680.jpeg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2020/05/Holiday18-preview_090-1920x1280.jpeg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Michael Sneed (center) at Different Fur Studios in San Francisco with Mikos da Gawd (left) and WADE08 (right). \u003ccite>(Erin Conger)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Sneed grew up in the 100s section of Deep East Oakland with his parents and older sisters. He lives on a block that is still predominantly Black, where close-knit families support each other. He’s fortunate, Sneed tells me. But for many lifelong Oaklanders, particularly Black, Latinx and Pacific Islanders, \u003ca href=\"https://bayareaequityatlas.org/node/65531\">the city’s dramatic shifts have made it nearly impossible to remain.\u003c/a>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>It’s not news that the Bay Area’s inequities disproportionately affect the Black community. “The slow churn of the erasure of the region’s historic communities that birthed the Black Panther Party and raised the likes of Maya Angelou and Etta James is well underway,” \u003ca href=\"https://capitalbnews.org/climate-reparations-bay-area/\">writes Adam Mahoney\u003c/a>, in a piece on climate reparations, reporting that the nine-county region’s Black population has decreased by 20% since 1990, while the total population has grown by 25%.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>As we wander downtown Oakland, Sneed recalls the city he grew up in, and what he most misses about it: poetry slams and open mics for youth, Monta Ellis on the Golden State Warriors, and most importantly, his peers and friends who have had to move away.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13931359\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13931359\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/07/michaelsneed_JY_016-800x533.jpg\" alt=\"A young Oakland rapper leans against a wall in Oakland on a sunny day\" width=\"800\" height=\"533\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/07/michaelsneed_JY_016-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/07/michaelsneed_JY_016-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/07/michaelsneed_JY_016-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/07/michaelsneed_JY_016-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/07/michaelsneed_JY_016-1536x1024.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/07/michaelsneed_JY_016-2048x1366.jpg 2048w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/07/michaelsneed_JY_016-1920x1280.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Michael Sneed poses for a portrait in Oakland. \u003ccite>(Juliana Yamada)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>“No one has been immediately displaced in my family, but I’ve had peers who can’t find housing because it’s too expensive,” he says. “There’s no reason why there should be people houseless on freeways in tents. It shouldn’t be a thing. The whole purpose of having a government is to prevent that and to protect the people, especially if you have a government with as much money as the United States and California. There’s no reason.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Following a\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8BAPTZcMtMI\"> song collaboration and high-profile tour with P-Lo,\u003c/a> Sneed returned to The Town more attuned than ever to what makes the Bay Area simultaneously special and intolerable. A particularly poignant example of his gospel-inspired sound is “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MGuS7hnPNyc\">Paw Patrol\u003c/a>,” accompanied by a music video filmed in his neighborhood that evokes a homely retro vibe.\u003c/p>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003cspan class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__embedYoutube'>\n \u003cspan class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__embedYoutubeInside'>\n \u003ciframe\n loading='lazy'\n class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__youtubePlayer'\n type='text/html'\n src='//www.youtube.com/embed/MGuS7hnPNyc'\n title='//www.youtube.com/embed/MGuS7hnPNyc'\n allowfullscreen='true'\n style='border:0;'>\u003c/iframe>\n \u003c/span>\n \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003cp>Forced migration and gentrification are prevalent themes in his music, especially on tracks like \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/news/11940879/michael-sneed-city\">“City,” which outline the rapper’s frustrations with houselessness and exorbitant rents. \u003c/a>With a high-pitched voice that many have compared to Chicago’s Chance the Rapper, Sneed weaves in and out of intonations with a choir-trained precision that borders on falsetto, presenting a simple but profound question as the song’s hook: “Ayo the block don’t look the same as it used to, where my city go?”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Combined with deep reflections about his family’s health (most notably, the painful loss of his grandmother and aunt), the birth of his niece, playing basketball as a teenager, and criticisms of the tech industry, the seven-track project presents a layered portrait of a young, Black man who graduated from Howard University who is living as joyfully as he can under the crushing weight of Northern California’s demands. It’s a theme many local artists have explored in their music. But with Sneed, there’s a touch of theatrics and a goofy lovability that’s rare in East Oakland rap.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>One of the album’s standout singles, “The Answer,” draws from the artist’s love of hoops (functioning as a reference to the iconic point guard, Allen Iverson, who was known as both A.I. and The Answer in his playing days) while expressing his flamboyance with clever wordplay: “When I was five I used to get in trouble for coloring out of the lines/ why if you colored they want you to stay in the line/ I feel like A.I. up in his prime.” The video, which is titled “the world’s first A.I. music video,” reached 16,000 views in one month (and no, it is not the world’s first A.I. music video).\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13925558\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13925558\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/02/Michael-Sneed-performs-at-Brick-and-Mortar-Music-Hall-in-San-Francisco-on-Wednesday-Wednesday-Feb.-22-2023.--800x533.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"533\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/02/Michael-Sneed-performs-at-Brick-and-Mortar-Music-Hall-in-San-Francisco-on-Wednesday-Wednesday-Feb.-22-2023.--800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/02/Michael-Sneed-performs-at-Brick-and-Mortar-Music-Hall-in-San-Francisco-on-Wednesday-Wednesday-Feb.-22-2023.--1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/02/Michael-Sneed-performs-at-Brick-and-Mortar-Music-Hall-in-San-Francisco-on-Wednesday-Wednesday-Feb.-22-2023.--160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/02/Michael-Sneed-performs-at-Brick-and-Mortar-Music-Hall-in-San-Francisco-on-Wednesday-Wednesday-Feb.-22-2023.--768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/02/Michael-Sneed-performs-at-Brick-and-Mortar-Music-Hall-in-San-Francisco-on-Wednesday-Wednesday-Feb.-22-2023.--1536x1024.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/02/Michael-Sneed-performs-at-Brick-and-Mortar-Music-Hall-in-San-Francisco-on-Wednesday-Wednesday-Feb.-22-2023.-.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Michael Sneed performs at Brick and Mortar Music Hall in San Francisco on Feb. 22, 2023. \u003ccite>(Estefany Gonzalez)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>“I wasn’t thinking of \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13928457/chatgpt-says-these-are-the-best-bay-area-rap-albums-of-all-time\">artificial intelligence \u003c/a>at all,” Sneed tells me inside The Hatch, a Black-owned bar in the city, while sipping on a non-alcoholic lemonade. “That song to me is kind of using Allen Iverson as this guy who did his own thing. He wore the baggy shorts, the gold chains. He said ‘I’m gonna be so hip-hop that it makes you uncomfortable.’ And he was almost punished because of that. [This song is about] using him, or his avatar, as a way to highlight Black men like that.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“A.I. was so fearless and unapologetically himself and hip-hop, and it kind of gave athletes [and] people of the culture in general freedom to express themselves in spaces that aren’t necessarily hip-hop or basketball,” he continues. “That’s tight about him. I don’t think he gets enough props for that. In a way, he was postmodernist.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Basketball is a major element of \u003cem>Junior Varsity Blues\u003c/em>, with fictional skits of a team tryout peppering the 23-minute project. It’s the only sport Sneed grew up playing, and it’s how he bonded with his peers and family members. For an artsy kid, it gave him an unexpected outlet.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“Even though I wasn’t good, it was important to me,” he admits. “I was always daydreaming, never paying attention. I dressed goofy. I showed up [to play basketball] in church socks. But it’s how I met a lot of friends in high school.”\u003c/p>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003cspan class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__embedYoutube'>\n \u003cspan class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__embedYoutubeInside'>\n \u003ciframe\n loading='lazy'\n class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__youtubePlayer'\n type='text/html'\n src='//www.youtube.com/embed/VwCgGd-dDn0'\n title='//www.youtube.com/embed/VwCgGd-dDn0'\n allowfullscreen='true'\n style='border:0;'>\u003c/iframe>\n \u003c/span>\n \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003cp> \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>With \u003ca href=\"https://www.theringer.com/nba-draft/2023/3/28/23657469/amen-ausar-thompson-twins-2023-nba-draft-overtime-elite\">his younger twin cousins recently entering the NBA as nationally touted prospects\u003c/a>, Sneed appreciates what athletics can provide for a community. But he doesn’t overly glamorize the sport, either. His music regularly veers into his more niche interests — like anime (which his Nickelodeon’s \u003cem>Avatar\u003c/em>-inspired tagline, “Yip! Yip!” makes clear in every verse) and Broadway musical productions like \u003ci>The Lion King\u003c/i> and \u003ci>Wicked \u003c/i>(his EP features a song titled “WICKED”).\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Despite his introspective nerdisms, though, it’s not all “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=poIXEf0k9oo\">Hula Hoop\u003c/a>” and “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6BJPSKr0DBQ\">Hopscotch\u003c/a>” games for Sneed. Beyond the lighthearted inner child hardwired into his raps, his songs inevitably return to heavy subject matter, like contemplating the death of Black Panther Party leaders, having emotional withdrawals while withdrawing money from the bank and losing faith in God over slow-paced, self-produced instrumentals. Songs like “It’s Impossible! It’s a Miracle!” serve as cathartic hymnals, presenting the rapper in his most vulnerable state as he rattles off a litany of impossible life challenges.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“There was so much adversity [at the time of writing the song]. Mending felt like it would be a miracle,” Sneed says. “I’m only myself because of how hard things can be. I need someone to tell me it’ll be alright. I’m always trying to put that in my music. It’s really just me speaking to myself. If my words can help someone else through those tough Monday mornings, then alright. That’s powerful. It’s to help me, and to help others.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13931357\" class=\"wp-caption alignnone\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13931357\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/07/michaelsneed_JY_004-800x533.jpg\" alt=\"A young Oakland rapper leans against the glass window outside of the Fox Theater\" width=\"800\" height=\"533\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/07/michaelsneed_JY_004-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/07/michaelsneed_JY_004-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/07/michaelsneed_JY_004-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/07/michaelsneed_JY_004-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/07/michaelsneed_JY_004-1536x1024.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/07/michaelsneed_JY_004-2048x1365.jpg 2048w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/07/michaelsneed_JY_004-1920x1280.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Bay Area rapper Michael Sneed poses for a portrait in front of the Fox Theatre. Sneed grew up consuming theatre and his roots now influence his music. \u003ccite>(Juliana Yamada)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Currently an unsigned artist, the ascendant Oaklander is considering a move to Los Angeles, where other successful East Bay artists like Kehlani, G Eazy and P-Lo have already relocated. It’s relatively common for Bay Area artists — particularly rappers — to leave the Bay. There’s a cross-national migratory route to Atlanta that has been popularized by Too $hort and Iamsu!. And, of course there’s New York City, which is the current residence of \u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/reyresurreccion/?hl=en\">Rey Resurreccion\u003c/a> and serves as a part-time getaway for \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13908051/rising-artist-ovrkast-makes-introspective-rap-for-cloudy-days\">Ovrkast., one of Sneed’s best friends\u003c/a> and closest collaborators. \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13908051/rising-artist-ovrkast-makes-introspective-rap-for-cloudy-days\">It’s a phenomenon that KQED’s Pendarvis Harshaw once dubbed “\u003c/a>\u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13846175/ian-kelly-and-the-role-of-the-bay-area-expatriate\">the role of the Bay Area expatriate\u003c/a>\u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13908051/rising-artist-ovrkast-makes-introspective-rap-for-cloudy-days\">” in music.\u003c/a>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Even if Sneed can’t afford to remain in his city of birth, or feels like artistic opportunities are greater elsewhere, he plans to stay connected to his home in the East Bay. He’s done it before, when he left Oakland for Washington D.C. to attend university, then came back. The temporary move expanded his sense of self and place, bolstering his appreciation — and complex understanding — for his return.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Regardless of wherever Sneed lands, he’ll take East Oakland with him. As he declares on “WICKED,” “I’m not a vibe, I’m a symbol to my city.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"alignnone size-medium wp-image-12127869\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-800x78.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"78\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-400x39.jpg 400w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-768x75.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>Michael Sneed’s \u003ca href=\"https://open.spotify.com/album/1SIeFvO8So4ow0vcFosVQ6\">‘Junior Varsity Blues’ \u003c/a> is available on all streaming platforms. His recent tourmate, P-Lo, will be at \u003ca href=\"https://twitter.com/p_lo/status/1676792144466710528\">STUNNA’s Shop at Stashed SF\u003c/a> (2360 3rd St., SF) on Sat., July 15 from 4 – 8 p.m. \u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
"attributes": {
"named": {},
"numeric": []
}
},
{
"type": "component",
"content": "",
"name": "ad",
"attributes": {
"named": {
"label": "fullwidth"
},
"numeric": [
"fullwidth"
]
}
},
{
"type": "contentString",
"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
"attributes": {
"named": {},
"numeric": []
}
},
{
"type": "component",
"content": "",
"name": "ad",
"attributes": {
"named": {
"label": "floatright"
},
"numeric": [
"floatright"
]
}
},
{
"type": "contentString",
"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>",
"attributes": {
"named": {},
"numeric": []
}
}
],
"link": "/arts/13931355/michael-sneed-is-more-than-a-vibe-hes-a-symbol-for-oakland",
"authors": [
"11748"
],
"categories": [
"arts_1",
"arts_69"
],
"tags": [
"arts_11374",
"arts_5786",
"arts_8505",
"arts_10278",
"arts_1332",
"arts_7321",
"arts_1143",
"arts_1803",
"arts_1401",
"arts_3478"
],
"featImg": "arts_13931358",
"label": "arts"
},
"arts_13930886": {
"type": "posts",
"id": "arts_13930886",
"meta": {
"index": "posts_1716263798",
"site": "arts",
"id": "13930886",
"score": null,
"sort": [
1687964467000
]
},
"guestAuthors": [],
"slug": "madlines-coco-peila-ryannicole-whats-pimpin-vodcast-1",
"title": "Watch: ‘What’s Pimpin’?’ Takes on Misogynoir in Bay Area Hip-Hop",
"publishDate": 1687964467,
"format": "video",
"headTitle": "Watch: ‘What’s Pimpin’?’ Takes on Misogynoir in Bay Area Hip-Hop | KQED",
"labelTerm": {},
"content": "\u003cp>\u003cb>\u003ci>Editor’s note:\u003c/i>\u003c/b>\u003ci> This story is part of \u003c/i>\u003ca href=\"http://kqed.org/bayareahiphop\">That’s My Word\u003c/a>\u003ci>, KQED’s year-long exploration of \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/bayareahiphop\">Bay Area hip-hop history\u003c/a>, with new content dropping all throughout 2023.\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Picture this: You’re on the dance floor at a Bay Area function, and “\u003ca href=\"https://youtu.be/6vE6oUc0t4o\">Feelin’ Myself\u003c/a>” by Mac Dre pumps through the speakers. The whole room erupts with joy, and everyone chants the lyrics: “I’m sicker than SARS / higher than Mars.” Then the beat stops and the crowd screams: “And I treat my bitch like an ATM card!”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>There’s power in this ritual, which has been a mainstay at local clubs and house parties since Mac Dre’s hyphy anthem came out in 2004. The music allows us to \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13929461/at-mistah-f-a-b-s-hyphy-tour-going-dumb-was-spiritual\">partake in a collective experience\u003c/a>, and to feel a sense of Bay Area pride at a crucial time when so many have been pushed out of this unaffordable region.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>But, scratching below the surface, “Feelin’ Myself” and many of our beloved, local ’90s and 2000s anthems — Dru Down’s “\u003ca href=\"https://youtu.be/HzaqvldQO3I\">Pimp of the Year\u003c/a>,” D-Lo’s “\u003ca href=\"https://youtu.be/HzaqvldQO3I\">No Hoe\u003c/a>” — contain casual references to violence against and the exploitation of women.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Pimp culture is in Bay Area hip-hop’s DNA as much as the liberation politics of the Black Panthers. Some of the region’s \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13924126/the-bay-area-was-hip-hop-before-there-was-hip-hop\">earliest rappers based their personas on blaxploitation films\u003c/a> like 1973’s \u003cem>The Mack\u003c/em>, which was shot in Oakland and featured real-life pimps and sex workers. Not to mention, \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13925761/magic-mike-richmond-calvin-t-rap-hip-hop\">some of these original MCs \u003cem>were\u003c/em> actual pimps\u003c/a>. As hip-hop \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13927349/bay-area-hip-hop-1980s\">became a commercial force in the late ’80s\u003c/a>, albums like Too Short’s \u003cem>Born to Mack\u003c/em> helped define the Bay Area’s style and identity for the rest of the nation.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>But considering that the Bay Area is an international hub for sex trafficking, this art reflects a dangerous reality.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In our new vodcast, \u003cem>What’s Pimpin’?\u003c/em>, women rappers and activists \u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/mad.lines/\">Maddy Clifford\u003c/a> (aka MADlines), \u003ca href=\"https://www.cocopeila.com/\">Coco Peila\u003c/a> and \u003ca href=\"https://www.msryannicole.com/\">RyanNicole\u003c/a> take back the mic. Across three episodes, the three hosts facilitate candid discussions about the disproportionate rates of violence Black women face, and how systemic racism and wealth inequality breed desperate conditions where pimp culture thrives. They also get deep, drawing from their personal experiences of moving through an Oakland rap scene that at times espouses both misogynistic and revolutionary ideals. [aside postid='arts_13930867,arts_13931295,arts_13931108']\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>As Clifford writes in her essay, “\u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13930867/whats-pimpin-culture-hip-hop-rap-sexism-misogynoir-black-women\">It’s Time to Unpack Pimp Culture in Bay Area Hip-Hop\u003c/a>,” pimp culture has roots in the exploitative power dynamics that have been part of American culture since colonialism and slavery: “We can sugarcoat the truth, but at the root, pimp culture is about exploitation. Ignoring this reality risks harming some of the most marginalized people in the Bay Area. I’m talking about poor folks, and about Black, brown and Indigenous women, in addition to LGBTQ people. I promise you, they’re already paying the ultimate price.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Stay tuned for \u003cem>What’s Pimpin’? \u003c/em>episodes two and three dropping on July 5 and July 12. \u003cem>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">— Nastia Voynovskaya, lead producer\u003c/span>\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter size-medium wp-image-11687704\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2016/06/Turntable.Break_-800x60.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"60\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/06/Turntable.Break_.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/06/Turntable.Break_-400x30.jpg 400w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/06/Turntable.Break_-768x58.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>If you or anyone you know is experiencing sexual violence, you can get free, confidential help from the \u003ca href=\"https://www.rainn.org/\">RAINN\u003c/a> hotline at 800-656-4673 or via chat at \u003ca href=\"http://online.rainn.org\">online.rainn.org\u003c/a>. The \u003ca href=\"https://humantraffickinghotline.org/en\">National Human Trafficking Hotline\u003c/a> is available at 888-373-7888 or via text message at 233733.\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\n",
"blocks": [],
"excerpt": "MADlines, RyanNicole and Coco Peila discuss pimp culture, and open up about their experiences in rap.",
"status": "publish",
"parent": 0,
"modified": 1726790680,
"stats": {
"hasAudio": false,
"hasVideo": false,
"hasChartOrMap": false,
"iframeSrcs": [],
"hasGoogleForm": false,
"hasGallery": false,
"hasHearkenModule": false,
"hasPolis": false,
"paragraphCount": 13,
"wordCount": 602
},
"headData": {
"title": "Watch: 'What's Pimpin'?' Takes on Misogynoir in Bay Area Hip-Hop | KQED",
"description": "MADlines, RyanNicole and Coco Peila discuss pimp culture, and open up about their experiences in rap.",
"ogTitle": "",
"ogDescription": "",
"ogImgId": "arts_13930892",
"twTitle": "",
"twDescription": "",
"twImgId": "arts_13930892",
"socialTitle": "Watch: 'What's Pimpin'?' Takes on Misogynoir in Bay Area Hip-Hop %%page%% %%sep%% KQED",
"schema": {
"@context": "https://schema.org",
"@type": "Article",
"headline": "Watch: ‘What’s Pimpin’?’ Takes on Misogynoir in Bay Area Hip-Hop",
"datePublished": "2023-06-28T08:01:07-07:00",
"dateModified": "2024-09-19T17:04:40-07:00",
"image": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/02/KQED-OG-Image@1x.png"
}
},
"videoEmbed": "https://youtu.be/OU6ko1Qb97o",
"source": "That's My Word",
"sourceUrl": "https://www.kqed.org/bayareahiphop",
"sticky": false,
"nprByline": "KQED Arts & Culture",
"templateType": "standard",
"featuredImageType": "standard",
"excludeFromSiteSearch": "Include",
"showOnAuthorArchivePages": "Yes",
"articleAge": "0",
"path": "/arts/13930886/madlines-coco-peila-ryannicole-whats-pimpin-vodcast-1",
"audioTrackLength": null,
"parsedContent": [
{
"type": "contentString",
"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp>\u003cb>\u003ci>Editor’s note:\u003c/i>\u003c/b>\u003ci> This story is part of \u003c/i>\u003ca href=\"http://kqed.org/bayareahiphop\">That’s My Word\u003c/a>\u003ci>, KQED’s year-long exploration of \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/bayareahiphop\">Bay Area hip-hop history\u003c/a>, with new content dropping all throughout 2023.\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Picture this: You’re on the dance floor at a Bay Area function, and “\u003ca href=\"https://youtu.be/6vE6oUc0t4o\">Feelin’ Myself\u003c/a>” by Mac Dre pumps through the speakers. The whole room erupts with joy, and everyone chants the lyrics: “I’m sicker than SARS / higher than Mars.” Then the beat stops and the crowd screams: “And I treat my bitch like an ATM card!”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>There’s power in this ritual, which has been a mainstay at local clubs and house parties since Mac Dre’s hyphy anthem came out in 2004. The music allows us to \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13929461/at-mistah-f-a-b-s-hyphy-tour-going-dumb-was-spiritual\">partake in a collective experience\u003c/a>, and to feel a sense of Bay Area pride at a crucial time when so many have been pushed out of this unaffordable region.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>But, scratching below the surface, “Feelin’ Myself” and many of our beloved, local ’90s and 2000s anthems — Dru Down’s “\u003ca href=\"https://youtu.be/HzaqvldQO3I\">Pimp of the Year\u003c/a>,” D-Lo’s “\u003ca href=\"https://youtu.be/HzaqvldQO3I\">No Hoe\u003c/a>” — contain casual references to violence against and the exploitation of women.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Pimp culture is in Bay Area hip-hop’s DNA as much as the liberation politics of the Black Panthers. Some of the region’s \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13924126/the-bay-area-was-hip-hop-before-there-was-hip-hop\">earliest rappers based their personas on blaxploitation films\u003c/a> like 1973’s \u003cem>The Mack\u003c/em>, which was shot in Oakland and featured real-life pimps and sex workers. Not to mention, \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13925761/magic-mike-richmond-calvin-t-rap-hip-hop\">some of these original MCs \u003cem>were\u003c/em> actual pimps\u003c/a>. As hip-hop \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13927349/bay-area-hip-hop-1980s\">became a commercial force in the late ’80s\u003c/a>, albums like Too Short’s \u003cem>Born to Mack\u003c/em> helped define the Bay Area’s style and identity for the rest of the nation.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
"attributes": {
"named": {},
"numeric": []
}
},
{
"type": "component",
"content": "",
"name": "ad",
"attributes": {
"named": {
"label": "fullwidth"
},
"numeric": [
"fullwidth"
]
}
},
{
"type": "contentString",
"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>But considering that the Bay Area is an international hub for sex trafficking, this art reflects a dangerous reality.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In our new vodcast, \u003cem>What’s Pimpin’?\u003c/em>, women rappers and activists \u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/mad.lines/\">Maddy Clifford\u003c/a> (aka MADlines), \u003ca href=\"https://www.cocopeila.com/\">Coco Peila\u003c/a> and \u003ca href=\"https://www.msryannicole.com/\">RyanNicole\u003c/a> take back the mic. Across three episodes, the three hosts facilitate candid discussions about the disproportionate rates of violence Black women face, and how systemic racism and wealth inequality breed desperate conditions where pimp culture thrives. They also get deep, drawing from their personal experiences of moving through an Oakland rap scene that at times espouses both misogynistic and revolutionary ideals. \u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
"attributes": {
"named": {},
"numeric": []
}
},
{
"type": "component",
"content": "",
"name": "aside",
"attributes": {
"named": {
"postid": "arts_13930867,arts_13931295,arts_13931108",
"label": ""
},
"numeric": []
}
},
{
"type": "contentString",
"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>As Clifford writes in her essay, “\u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13930867/whats-pimpin-culture-hip-hop-rap-sexism-misogynoir-black-women\">It’s Time to Unpack Pimp Culture in Bay Area Hip-Hop\u003c/a>,” pimp culture has roots in the exploitative power dynamics that have been part of American culture since colonialism and slavery: “We can sugarcoat the truth, but at the root, pimp culture is about exploitation. Ignoring this reality risks harming some of the most marginalized people in the Bay Area. I’m talking about poor folks, and about Black, brown and Indigenous women, in addition to LGBTQ people. I promise you, they’re already paying the ultimate price.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Stay tuned for \u003cem>What’s Pimpin’? \u003c/em>episodes two and three dropping on July 5 and July 12. \u003cem>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">— Nastia Voynovskaya, lead producer\u003c/span>\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter size-medium wp-image-11687704\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2016/06/Turntable.Break_-800x60.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"60\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/06/Turntable.Break_.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/06/Turntable.Break_-400x30.jpg 400w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/06/Turntable.Break_-768x58.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>If you or anyone you know is experiencing sexual violence, you can get free, confidential help from the \u003ca href=\"https://www.rainn.org/\">RAINN\u003c/a> hotline at 800-656-4673 or via chat at \u003ca href=\"http://online.rainn.org\">online.rainn.org\u003c/a>. The \u003ca href=\"https://humantraffickinghotline.org/en\">National Human Trafficking Hotline\u003c/a> is available at 888-373-7888 or via text message at 233733.\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>",
"attributes": {
"named": {},
"numeric": []
}
}
],
"link": "/arts/13930886/madlines-coco-peila-ryannicole-whats-pimpin-vodcast-1",
"authors": [
"byline_arts_13930886"
],
"series": [
"arts_22314"
],
"categories": [
"arts_1",
"arts_2303",
"arts_69"
],
"tags": [
"arts_11374",
"arts_8505",
"arts_10342",
"arts_10278",
"arts_17464",
"arts_19579",
"arts_19347",
"arts_3478",
"arts_20984"
],
"featImg": "arts_13930890",
"label": "source_arts_13930886"
},
"arts_13930908": {
"type": "posts",
"id": "arts_13930908",
"meta": {
"index": "posts_1716263798",
"site": "arts",
"id": "13930908",
"score": null,
"sort": [
1687809499000
]
},
"parent": 0,
"labelTerm": {
"site": "arts"
},
"blocks": [],
"publishDate": 1687809499,
"format": "standard",
"title": "After the BET Awards, a Look Back at How the Network Helped Hip-Hop Grow",
"headTitle": "After the BET Awards, a Look Back at How the Network Helped Hip-Hop Grow | KQED",
"content": "\u003cp>\u003cem>Rap City. 106 & Park\u003c/em>. And even, \u003cem>Uncut\u003c/em>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>From innovative to provocative, BET has played a crucial role in creating several influential programs that helped spread hip-hop to millions of homes across the globe. Other than its rival show \u003cem>Yo! MTV Raps\u003c/em>, the network known as Black Entertainment Television took up the mantle — despite some reluctance — to showcase a misunderstood rap culture decades before it became today’s most popular music genre.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[aside postid='arts_13929900']For many, BET became a safe place for those within hip-hop to express their artistry, although not without criticism. Through it all, the network has been a mainstay for established and emerging rap artists.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>It all came together during the BET Awards on Sunday. Show officials celebrated the genre’s 50th anniversary during the telecast dubbed as a “non-stop Hip-Hop Party.” It also comes at a pivotal time for the network, which will be soon be sold. Several Black entrepreneurs and celebrities, including Tyler Perry, media executive Byron Allen and rapper-entrepreneur Diddy, are interested in purchasing the network.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The new owner will acquire an important cultural fixture, one whose success was partially built on how it elevated hip-hop.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13930909\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13930909\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/06/GettyImages-1436964378-scaled-e1687805985366-800x533.jpg\" alt=\"An attractive middle-aged Black man smiles on a red carpet. He is wearing black-rimmed glasses and a tuxedo.\" width=\"800\" height=\"533\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/06/GettyImages-1436964378-scaled-e1687805985366-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/06/GettyImages-1436964378-scaled-e1687805985366-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/06/GettyImages-1436964378-scaled-e1687805985366-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/06/GettyImages-1436964378-scaled-e1687805985366-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/06/GettyImages-1436964378-scaled-e1687805985366-1536x1024.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/06/GettyImages-1436964378-scaled-e1687805985366.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Tyler Perry in 2022. The entrepreneur has expressed an interest in purchasing BET. \u003ccite>(Axelle/Bauer-Griffin/FilmMagic)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>“BET was a big platform for hip-hop and urban music overall,” said E-40. His song “Tired of Being Stepped On” with the rap group The Click appeared on BET’s \u003cem>Video Soul,\u003c/em> which was created in 1981 at a time when MTV refused to play videos by most African Americans. The rapper recalled how guest host Jamie Foxx dissed The Click’s song but the comedian’s critical words didn’t faze him. He felt his group gained important exposure to promote their “unorthodox” West Coast rap style.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“The network really stepped up. We needed that,” said E-40, who also made a few appearances on another BET show called \u003cem>Rap City\u003c/em>, which featured hip-hop music videos, interviews and freestyles booth sessions with big names including Jay-Z, Lil Wayne and MC Lyte. The show, which highlighted popular and up-and-coming rappers, became the longest-running hip-hop TV show in history.\u003cbr>\nE-40 credited BET founder Robert Johnson for giving hip-hop a chance. Johnson built the brand into the leading TV network for Black Americans in hopes of creating content geared toward jazz, comedy and gospel. But at the time, he and other founders were unsure about featuring a rap show, believing the genre would be short lived.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Rival MTV’s \u003cem>Yo! MTV Raps\u003c/em>, however, showed that hip-hop had staying power.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13930910\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13930910\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/06/GettyImages-1502095663-scaled-e1687806273125-800x533.jpg\" alt=\"A rapper performs on stage with a small crowd behind him. He wears a bucket hat, sunglasses and large gold medallion.\" width=\"800\" height=\"533\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/06/GettyImages-1502095663-scaled-e1687806273125-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/06/GettyImages-1502095663-scaled-e1687806273125-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/06/GettyImages-1502095663-scaled-e1687806273125-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/06/GettyImages-1502095663-scaled-e1687806273125-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/06/GettyImages-1502095663-scaled-e1687806273125-1536x1024.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/06/GettyImages-1502095663-scaled-e1687806273125.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">E-40 at the 2023 BET Awards in Los Angeles. \u003ccite>(Paras Griffin/Getty Images for BET)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>“After kind of a brief initial hesitancy, the founders of BET really understood how hip-hop was transforming culture overall and specifically Black entertainment,” said Scott M. Mills, BET’s president and CEO.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“They rapidly embraced hip-hop as part of the mission of BET,” he said. “You went from BET having shows with no hip-hop artists or music to artists and music starting to trickle through shows to this full evolution of creating dedicated shows, celebrating hip-hop music, artists and culture.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[aside postid='arts_13927349']BET’s decision to embrace hip-hop literally paid off: Johnson and his then-wife, Sheila, sold the network to Viacom in 2000 for $3 billion — which made them the nation’s first Black billionaires. He remained CEO until 2006.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>After the sale, BET continued to beef up its content with reality shows and the network’s flagship program \u003cem>106 & Park\u003c/em>, a weekday show that started in 2000 and lasted for more than a decade. The show thrived with a video countdown, interviews and performances. A year later, the network started the BET Awards then the BET Hip-Hop Awards.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>For Lil Jon, he certainly benefitted from appearing on \u003cem>106 & Park\u003c/em>. One day, the rapper-producer joined the show’s audience during the time when he had a hard time getting music on BET.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9BeuGfuFIA8\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Lil Jon had no clue \u003cem>106 & Park\u003c/em> co-host A.J. Calloway would notice him sitting in the crowd before he shouted out his name. The exposure helped him become more recognizable, particularly to the BET brass — who he says initially struggled to grasp the concept of his crunk music, which eventually gained mainstream appeal.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“We strived to be on \u003cem>Rap City.\u003c/em> We strived to be on \u003cem>106 & Park\u003c/em>,” Lil Jon said. “A.J. knew who I was, because he would go to the South and host things. He knew the power of my music … They would show me in the audience throughout the whole show. It was what they call an impression in the advertising world. It was a way for me to be around people at BET. They started to see and get familiar with me, and they wanted to look out for me. BET was just a place where we would get support from our community.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[aside postid='arts_13929861']Like Lil Jon, other hip-hop artists took advantage of the exposure from BET — which often highlighted positive images of Black people through shows such as \u003cem>Teen Summit\u003c/em> and \u003cem>106 & Park\u003c/em>. But in the early-2000s, the network started to take an odd turn as several popular figures — from filmmaker Spike Lee to Public Enemy’s Chuck D — heavily criticized the channel’s content for depicting African Americans in a negative light.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Many took aim at the now-defunct \u003cem>BET: Uncut\u003c/em>, a late-night mature program that contained highly sexual content such as Ludacris’ “Booty Poppin” music video. The tipping point came after Nelly’s “Tip Drill” video featured women simulating sex acts with themselves while men grabbed their bodies.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>Uncut\u003c/em> normally finished airing early Sunday just hours before the network’s faith-based programs began.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>At the time, Big Boi of Outkast was taken aback by some of the raunchy content, calling it “distasteful” and “soft porn.” Other political figures and activists showed their displeasure. Co-founder Sheila Johnson even said in a 2010 interview that she was ashamed of BET, suggesting that no one, including her own children, should watch the channel.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>After the backlash, BET took a new approach. The company researched what their viewers wanted to see and created a lineup of more family-oriented shows such as \u003cem>Reed Between the Lines\u003c/em> and \u003cem>Let’s\u003c/em> \u003cem>Stay Together\u003c/em>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“If you look at it, hip-hop is like a huge family,” said Roxanne Shante. “You’re going to have family members that do things that’s necessarily not my thing.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13930911\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13930911\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/06/GettyImages-1491748126-scaled-e1687807323886-800x533.jpg\" alt=\"A Black woman stands onstage smiling broadly. She is wearing an off the shoulder red gown and holding her hands out in a half shrug.\" width=\"800\" height=\"533\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/06/GettyImages-1491748126-scaled-e1687807323886-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/06/GettyImages-1491748126-scaled-e1687807323886-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/06/GettyImages-1491748126-scaled-e1687807323886-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/06/GettyImages-1491748126-scaled-e1687807323886-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/06/GettyImages-1491748126-scaled-e1687807323886-1536x1024.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/06/GettyImages-1491748126-scaled-e1687807323886.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Roxanne Shante at the 2023 Black Music Honors in Atlanta, Georgia. \u003ccite>(Nykieria Chaney/ Getty Images)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>“But who am I to criticize what they go through? It’s a form of expression,” said the “Roxanne’s Revenge” rapper. “I think BET has shown its ability to go with that form of expression. Now, people are expressing themselves in a different way. And now, they cater to a different audience and started to show different programming.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[aside postid='arts_13925931']Despite controversy, Mills said a symbolic relationship was kept between BET and the hip-hop community. He said the network has a chance to break new artists through the BET Hip-Hop Awards while showcasing the more popular ones at the BET Awards. He shouted out veteran rapper and Oscar-nominated actor Queen Latifah, who recently hosted the NAACP Image Awards this year.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“When you look at artists today, they’re profoundly talented,” he said. “The evolution of people deciding how they want to show up to the world is something that ultimately, I think we have to embrace. One thing about hip-hop, it’s always changing. We’re in the moment today, and that moment will evolve to whatever comes next.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Mills said BET is exploring ways to bring back \u003cem>106 & Park\u003c/em> as a possible residency live show.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>With a new buyer looking to purchase BET soon, the network’s future focus and how much it emphasizes hip-hop will be closely watched.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13930912\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13930912\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/06/GettyImages-1502158893-scaled-e1687807420908-800x534.jpg\" alt=\"A bald Black man stands on a red carpet wearing white pants and a polo jersey. He is clasping his hands together.\" width=\"800\" height=\"534\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/06/GettyImages-1502158893-scaled-e1687807420908-800x534.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/06/GettyImages-1502158893-scaled-e1687807420908-1020x681.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/06/GettyImages-1502158893-scaled-e1687807420908-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/06/GettyImages-1502158893-scaled-e1687807420908-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/06/GettyImages-1502158893-scaled-e1687807420908-1536x1025.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/06/GettyImages-1502158893-scaled-e1687807420908.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Too Short arrives at the 2023 BET Awards in Los Angeles. \u003ccite>(Aaron J. Thornton/Getty Images)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Rapper Too Short said BET should continue to serve the Black community’s needs.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“\u003cem>Teen Summit\u003c/em> was the best show ever,” he said. “Just for kids to sit there and have an intellectual conversation every Saturday morning. That was amazing to see Black kids thinking intelligently and debating with each other and an audience tapping in.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“I don’t know why anybody doesn’t think that kind of programming is needed right now. I think BET just needs to be the community. Don’t show me an aspect. The whole thing. Be Black entertainment.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad floatright]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>Copyright 2023 Associated Press. To see more, \u003ca href=\"https://apnews.com/\" rel=\"noopener\">visit AP\u003c/a>.\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\n",
"stats": {
"hasVideo": true,
"hasChartOrMap": false,
"hasAudio": false,
"hasPolis": false,
"wordCount": 1570,
"hasGoogleForm": false,
"hasGallery": false,
"hasHearkenModule": false,
"iframeSrcs": [],
"paragraphCount": 32
},
"modified": 1705005342,
"excerpt": "“You went from BET having shows with no hip-hop to this full evolution of dedicated shows celebrating the music and culture.”",
"headData": {
"twImgId": "",
"twTitle": "After the BET Awards, a Look Back at How the Network Helped Hip-Hop Grow",
"socialTitle": "How BET Took Hip-Hop to the Mainstream%%page%% %%sep%% KQED",
"ogTitle": "After the BET Awards, a Look Back at How the Network Helped Hip-Hop Grow",
"ogImgId": "",
"twDescription": "",
"description": "“You went from BET having shows with no hip-hop to this full evolution of dedicated shows celebrating the music and culture.”",
"title": "How BET Took Hip-Hop to the Mainstream | KQED",
"ogDescription": "",
"schema": {
"@context": "https://schema.org",
"@type": "Article",
"headline": "After the BET Awards, a Look Back at How the Network Helped Hip-Hop Grow",
"datePublished": "2023-06-26T12:58:19-07:00",
"dateModified": "2024-01-11T12:35:42-08:00",
"image": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/02/KQED-OG-Image@1x.png"
}
},
"guestAuthors": [],
"slug": "after-the-bet-awards-a-look-back-at-how-the-network-helped-hip-hop-grow",
"status": "publish",
"templateType": "standard",
"nprByline": "Jonathan Landrum Jr.",
"excludeFromSiteSearch": "Include",
"featuredImageType": "standard",
"sticky": false,
"showOnAuthorArchivePages": "No",
"articleAge": "0",
"path": "/arts/13930908/after-the-bet-awards-a-look-back-at-how-the-network-helped-hip-hop-grow",
"audioTrackLength": null,
"parsedContent": [
{
"type": "contentString",
"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp>\u003cem>Rap City. 106 & Park\u003c/em>. And even, \u003cem>Uncut\u003c/em>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>From innovative to provocative, BET has played a crucial role in creating several influential programs that helped spread hip-hop to millions of homes across the globe. Other than its rival show \u003cem>Yo! MTV Raps\u003c/em>, the network known as Black Entertainment Television took up the mantle — despite some reluctance — to showcase a misunderstood rap culture decades before it became today’s most popular music genre.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
"attributes": {
"named": {},
"numeric": []
}
},
{
"type": "component",
"content": "",
"name": "aside",
"attributes": {
"named": {
"postid": "arts_13929900",
"label": ""
},
"numeric": []
}
},
{
"type": "contentString",
"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>For many, BET became a safe place for those within hip-hop to express their artistry, although not without criticism. Through it all, the network has been a mainstay for established and emerging rap artists.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>It all came together during the BET Awards on Sunday. Show officials celebrated the genre’s 50th anniversary during the telecast dubbed as a “non-stop Hip-Hop Party.” It also comes at a pivotal time for the network, which will be soon be sold. Several Black entrepreneurs and celebrities, including Tyler Perry, media executive Byron Allen and rapper-entrepreneur Diddy, are interested in purchasing the network.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The new owner will acquire an important cultural fixture, one whose success was partially built on how it elevated hip-hop.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13930909\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13930909\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/06/GettyImages-1436964378-scaled-e1687805985366-800x533.jpg\" alt=\"An attractive middle-aged Black man smiles on a red carpet. He is wearing black-rimmed glasses and a tuxedo.\" width=\"800\" height=\"533\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/06/GettyImages-1436964378-scaled-e1687805985366-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/06/GettyImages-1436964378-scaled-e1687805985366-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/06/GettyImages-1436964378-scaled-e1687805985366-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/06/GettyImages-1436964378-scaled-e1687805985366-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/06/GettyImages-1436964378-scaled-e1687805985366-1536x1024.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/06/GettyImages-1436964378-scaled-e1687805985366.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Tyler Perry in 2022. The entrepreneur has expressed an interest in purchasing BET. \u003ccite>(Axelle/Bauer-Griffin/FilmMagic)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>“BET was a big platform for hip-hop and urban music overall,” said E-40. His song “Tired of Being Stepped On” with the rap group The Click appeared on BET’s \u003cem>Video Soul,\u003c/em> which was created in 1981 at a time when MTV refused to play videos by most African Americans. The rapper recalled how guest host Jamie Foxx dissed The Click’s song but the comedian’s critical words didn’t faze him. He felt his group gained important exposure to promote their “unorthodox” West Coast rap style.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
"attributes": {
"named": {},
"numeric": []
}
},
{
"type": "component",
"content": "",
"name": "ad",
"attributes": {
"named": {
"label": "fullwidth"
},
"numeric": [
"fullwidth"
]
}
},
{
"type": "contentString",
"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“The network really stepped up. We needed that,” said E-40, who also made a few appearances on another BET show called \u003cem>Rap City\u003c/em>, which featured hip-hop music videos, interviews and freestyles booth sessions with big names including Jay-Z, Lil Wayne and MC Lyte. The show, which highlighted popular and up-and-coming rappers, became the longest-running hip-hop TV show in history.\u003cbr>\nE-40 credited BET founder Robert Johnson for giving hip-hop a chance. Johnson built the brand into the leading TV network for Black Americans in hopes of creating content geared toward jazz, comedy and gospel. But at the time, he and other founders were unsure about featuring a rap show, believing the genre would be short lived.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Rival MTV’s \u003cem>Yo! MTV Raps\u003c/em>, however, showed that hip-hop had staying power.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13930910\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13930910\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/06/GettyImages-1502095663-scaled-e1687806273125-800x533.jpg\" alt=\"A rapper performs on stage with a small crowd behind him. He wears a bucket hat, sunglasses and large gold medallion.\" width=\"800\" height=\"533\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/06/GettyImages-1502095663-scaled-e1687806273125-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/06/GettyImages-1502095663-scaled-e1687806273125-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/06/GettyImages-1502095663-scaled-e1687806273125-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/06/GettyImages-1502095663-scaled-e1687806273125-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/06/GettyImages-1502095663-scaled-e1687806273125-1536x1024.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/06/GettyImages-1502095663-scaled-e1687806273125.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">E-40 at the 2023 BET Awards in Los Angeles. \u003ccite>(Paras Griffin/Getty Images for BET)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>“After kind of a brief initial hesitancy, the founders of BET really understood how hip-hop was transforming culture overall and specifically Black entertainment,” said Scott M. Mills, BET’s president and CEO.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“They rapidly embraced hip-hop as part of the mission of BET,” he said. “You went from BET having shows with no hip-hop artists or music to artists and music starting to trickle through shows to this full evolution of creating dedicated shows, celebrating hip-hop music, artists and culture.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
"attributes": {
"named": {},
"numeric": []
}
},
{
"type": "component",
"content": "",
"name": "aside",
"attributes": {
"named": {
"postid": "arts_13927349",
"label": ""
},
"numeric": []
}
},
{
"type": "contentString",
"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>BET’s decision to embrace hip-hop literally paid off: Johnson and his then-wife, Sheila, sold the network to Viacom in 2000 for $3 billion — which made them the nation’s first Black billionaires. He remained CEO until 2006.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>After the sale, BET continued to beef up its content with reality shows and the network’s flagship program \u003cem>106 & Park\u003c/em>, a weekday show that started in 2000 and lasted for more than a decade. The show thrived with a video countdown, interviews and performances. A year later, the network started the BET Awards then the BET Hip-Hop Awards.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>For Lil Jon, he certainly benefitted from appearing on \u003cem>106 & Park\u003c/em>. One day, the rapper-producer joined the show’s audience during the time when he had a hard time getting music on BET.\u003c/p>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003cspan class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__embedYoutube'>\n \u003cspan class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__embedYoutubeInside'>\n \u003ciframe\n loading='lazy'\n class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__youtubePlayer'\n type='text/html'\n src='//www.youtube.com/embed/9BeuGfuFIA8'\n title='//www.youtube.com/embed/9BeuGfuFIA8'\n allowfullscreen='true'\n style='border:0;'>\u003c/iframe>\n \u003c/span>\n \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003cp>Lil Jon had no clue \u003cem>106 & Park\u003c/em> co-host A.J. Calloway would notice him sitting in the crowd before he shouted out his name. The exposure helped him become more recognizable, particularly to the BET brass — who he says initially struggled to grasp the concept of his crunk music, which eventually gained mainstream appeal.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“We strived to be on \u003cem>Rap City.\u003c/em> We strived to be on \u003cem>106 & Park\u003c/em>,” Lil Jon said. “A.J. knew who I was, because he would go to the South and host things. He knew the power of my music … They would show me in the audience throughout the whole show. It was what they call an impression in the advertising world. It was a way for me to be around people at BET. They started to see and get familiar with me, and they wanted to look out for me. BET was just a place where we would get support from our community.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
"attributes": {
"named": {},
"numeric": []
}
},
{
"type": "component",
"content": "",
"name": "aside",
"attributes": {
"named": {
"postid": "arts_13929861",
"label": ""
},
"numeric": []
}
},
{
"type": "contentString",
"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>Like Lil Jon, other hip-hop artists took advantage of the exposure from BET — which often highlighted positive images of Black people through shows such as \u003cem>Teen Summit\u003c/em> and \u003cem>106 & Park\u003c/em>. But in the early-2000s, the network started to take an odd turn as several popular figures — from filmmaker Spike Lee to Public Enemy’s Chuck D — heavily criticized the channel’s content for depicting African Americans in a negative light.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Many took aim at the now-defunct \u003cem>BET: Uncut\u003c/em>, a late-night mature program that contained highly sexual content such as Ludacris’ “Booty Poppin” music video. The tipping point came after Nelly’s “Tip Drill” video featured women simulating sex acts with themselves while men grabbed their bodies.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>Uncut\u003c/em> normally finished airing early Sunday just hours before the network’s faith-based programs began.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>At the time, Big Boi of Outkast was taken aback by some of the raunchy content, calling it “distasteful” and “soft porn.” Other political figures and activists showed their displeasure. Co-founder Sheila Johnson even said in a 2010 interview that she was ashamed of BET, suggesting that no one, including her own children, should watch the channel.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>After the backlash, BET took a new approach. The company researched what their viewers wanted to see and created a lineup of more family-oriented shows such as \u003cem>Reed Between the Lines\u003c/em> and \u003cem>Let’s\u003c/em> \u003cem>Stay Together\u003c/em>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“If you look at it, hip-hop is like a huge family,” said Roxanne Shante. “You’re going to have family members that do things that’s necessarily not my thing.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13930911\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13930911\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/06/GettyImages-1491748126-scaled-e1687807323886-800x533.jpg\" alt=\"A Black woman stands onstage smiling broadly. She is wearing an off the shoulder red gown and holding her hands out in a half shrug.\" width=\"800\" height=\"533\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/06/GettyImages-1491748126-scaled-e1687807323886-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/06/GettyImages-1491748126-scaled-e1687807323886-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/06/GettyImages-1491748126-scaled-e1687807323886-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/06/GettyImages-1491748126-scaled-e1687807323886-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/06/GettyImages-1491748126-scaled-e1687807323886-1536x1024.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/06/GettyImages-1491748126-scaled-e1687807323886.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Roxanne Shante at the 2023 Black Music Honors in Atlanta, Georgia. \u003ccite>(Nykieria Chaney/ Getty Images)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>“But who am I to criticize what they go through? It’s a form of expression,” said the “Roxanne’s Revenge” rapper. “I think BET has shown its ability to go with that form of expression. Now, people are expressing themselves in a different way. And now, they cater to a different audience and started to show different programming.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
"attributes": {
"named": {},
"numeric": []
}
},
{
"type": "component",
"content": "",
"name": "aside",
"attributes": {
"named": {
"postid": "arts_13925931",
"label": ""
},
"numeric": []
}
},
{
"type": "contentString",
"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>Despite controversy, Mills said a symbolic relationship was kept between BET and the hip-hop community. He said the network has a chance to break new artists through the BET Hip-Hop Awards while showcasing the more popular ones at the BET Awards. He shouted out veteran rapper and Oscar-nominated actor Queen Latifah, who recently hosted the NAACP Image Awards this year.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“When you look at artists today, they’re profoundly talented,” he said. “The evolution of people deciding how they want to show up to the world is something that ultimately, I think we have to embrace. One thing about hip-hop, it’s always changing. We’re in the moment today, and that moment will evolve to whatever comes next.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Mills said BET is exploring ways to bring back \u003cem>106 & Park\u003c/em> as a possible residency live show.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>With a new buyer looking to purchase BET soon, the network’s future focus and how much it emphasizes hip-hop will be closely watched.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13930912\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13930912\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/06/GettyImages-1502158893-scaled-e1687807420908-800x534.jpg\" alt=\"A bald Black man stands on a red carpet wearing white pants and a polo jersey. He is clasping his hands together.\" width=\"800\" height=\"534\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/06/GettyImages-1502158893-scaled-e1687807420908-800x534.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/06/GettyImages-1502158893-scaled-e1687807420908-1020x681.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/06/GettyImages-1502158893-scaled-e1687807420908-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/06/GettyImages-1502158893-scaled-e1687807420908-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/06/GettyImages-1502158893-scaled-e1687807420908-1536x1025.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/06/GettyImages-1502158893-scaled-e1687807420908.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Too Short arrives at the 2023 BET Awards in Los Angeles. \u003ccite>(Aaron J. Thornton/Getty Images)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Rapper Too Short said BET should continue to serve the Black community’s needs.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“\u003cem>Teen Summit\u003c/em> was the best show ever,” he said. “Just for kids to sit there and have an intellectual conversation every Saturday morning. That was amazing to see Black kids thinking intelligently and debating with each other and an audience tapping in.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“I don’t know why anybody doesn’t think that kind of programming is needed right now. I think BET just needs to be the community. Don’t show me an aspect. The whole thing. Be Black entertainment.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
"attributes": {
"named": {},
"numeric": []
}
},
{
"type": "component",
"content": "",
"name": "ad",
"attributes": {
"named": {
"label": "floatright"
},
"numeric": [
"floatright"
]
}
},
{
"type": "contentString",
"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>Copyright 2023 Associated Press. To see more, \u003ca href=\"https://apnews.com/\" rel=\"noopener\">visit AP\u003c/a>.\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>",
"attributes": {
"named": {},
"numeric": []
}
}
],
"link": "/arts/13930908/after-the-bet-awards-a-look-back-at-how-the-network-helped-hip-hop-grow",
"authors": [
"byline_arts_13930908"
],
"categories": [
"arts_1",
"arts_69",
"arts_75",
"arts_990"
],
"tags": [
"arts_9943",
"arts_1601",
"arts_831",
"arts_20994",
"arts_3478"
],
"featImg": "arts_13930915",
"label": "arts"
},
"arts_13929861": {
"type": "posts",
"id": "arts_13929861",
"meta": {
"index": "posts_1716263798",
"site": "arts",
"id": "13929861",
"score": null,
"sort": [
1685566853000
]
},
"guestAuthors": [],
"slug": "latyrx-lateef-lyrics-born-solesides-quannum",
"title": "Lateef and Lyrics Born on Latyrx’s Early Years",
"publishDate": 1685566853,
"format": "video",
"headTitle": "Lateef and Lyrics Born on Latyrx’s Early Years | KQED",
"labelTerm": {},
"content": "\u003cp>\u003cem>\u003cstrong>Editor’s note\u003c/strong>: This story is part of \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/bayareahiphop\">That’s My Word\u003c/a>, KQED’s year-long exploration of \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/bayareahiphop\">Bay Area hip-hop\u003c/a> history.\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In the Hall of Game that is Bay Area hip-hop, independent collectives loom large. Along with Hieroglyphics and Living Legends, the fiercely creative, multicultural group \u003ca href=\"http://www.kqed.org/bayareahiphop/timeline#solesides-makes-its-debut\">Solesides\u003c/a> helped define a certain only-in-the-Bay sensibility. With groundbreaking artists like \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13842646/hip-hop-photographer-b-shot-just-about-anyone-that-mattered\">DJ Shadow\u003c/a> and \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13899416/the-gift-of-gab-5-songs-to-know-by-the-blackalicious-legend\">Blackalicious\u003c/a>, the crew added a new, abstracted dimension to Bay Area hip-hop. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>One of its most dizzying groups was Latyrx. Above, watch Latyrx’s Lateef and Lyrics Born discuss Solesides’ early formation at UC Davis, its transformation into Quannum and its high-profile successes as a diverse Bay Area collective — as well as their enduring respect for their Bay Area colleagues and each other. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[aside postID='arts_13923938']\u003cem>Select questions from the interview, edited for length and clarity:\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>In your own words, what makes Bay Area hip-hop special? \u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Lateef\u003c/strong>: The Bay Area has always been a hodgepodge of a lot of different cultures and communities. And you see a reflection of that in Bay Area hip-hop in a way that you don’t in a lot of the other parts of the country. So here you have early, early on, contributing, folks of all different cultures. You got the \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13905208/a-new-generation-of-filipino-hip-hop-builds-on-a-deep-bay-area-legacy\">Invisibl Skratch Piklz\u003c/a>, which have been holding down the Bay for a long time. Obviously you have \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13927349/bay-area-hip-hop-1980s\">Too Short\u003c/a>, \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13927692/del-funky-homosapien-no-need-for-alarm-30-years-anniversary\">Del\u003c/a>, \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13927349/bay-area-hip-hop-1980s\">MC Hammer\u003c/a>. Those three styles right there. Too Short is as gangster and pimp shit as it gets. MC Hammer, who’s the blueprint for what Puff Daddy did — just the idea that you could take over the world with your music, and it didn’t matter that you were from the Bay Area. That’s part of the Bay Area identity. Musically, Del, just extreme creativity. I sound the way that I do because of Del. And \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13824571/oakland-sideshows-legalize-macarthur\">Richie Rich\u003c/a>. I sound the way I do because of \u003cem>all\u003c/em> of those people. \u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13929863\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/05/Latyrx.Lateef-800x532.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"532\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13929863\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/05/Latyrx.Lateef-800x532.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/05/Latyrx.Lateef-1020x678.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/05/Latyrx.Lateef-160x106.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/05/Latyrx.Lateef-768x511.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/05/Latyrx.Lateef-1536x1022.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/05/Latyrx.Lateef.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Lateef the Truthspeaker onstage at KQED. \u003ccite>(Alain McLaughlin)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>One thing we find in Bay Area hip-hop is this rich tradition of the independent hustle. You came together in the 1990s at this incredible scene around KDVS, the radio station at UC Davis, and became a major part of this lineage of independent collectives. Can you tell people a little bit about that? \u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Lyrics Born\u003c/strong>: You can’t really talk about music, in particular hip-hop, in the Bay Area without talking about this independent spirit. And then the label and music movement that spawned from that. You just have this intersectionality of free thought and politics and culture and history. You have all these dynamics that kind of converge. We have this very special culture. And the other thing that I think is notable is that we’re \u003cem>not\u003c/em> in New York. We’re \u003cem>not\u003c/em> in LA. So when we started Quannum and Solesides, it wasn’t because we wanted to set the world on fire as executives. Nobody else would put our music out! We had no choice. If we didn’t put it out, nobody else would. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Right out of the gate, Solesides and Latyrx reflected that multiculturalism of the Bay Area. Lyrics Born, you’re Japanese-American. Born in Tokyo, raised in Berkeley. And Lateef, you’re half Black, half Puerto Rican, some Algerian. How would you say your personal identity has come through in your music?\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Lyrics Born\u003c/strong>: The interesting thing about the Bay Area, and particularly Solesides and Quannum in the early ’90s, is that it’s kind of a case study in how multicultural groups can really succeed. We had probably the most diverse group collective of professional musicians, successful professional musicians, maybe in the history of music. Right? Period. Black, white, Indian, Japanese, Chinese, Italian, Algerian, Puerto Rican. Every single food group was represented.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13929864\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/05/Latyrx.LyricsBorn-800x532.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"532\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13929864\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/05/Latyrx.LyricsBorn-800x532.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/05/Latyrx.LyricsBorn-1020x678.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/05/Latyrx.LyricsBorn-160x106.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/05/Latyrx.LyricsBorn-768x511.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/05/Latyrx.LyricsBorn-1536x1022.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/05/Latyrx.LyricsBorn.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Lyrics Born onstage at KQED. \u003ccite>(Alain McLaughlin)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Lateef\u003c/strong>: I’m going to add to this question of cultural diversity, and I’m just going to point out that, you know, one of the things that I was always impressed by with Lyrics Born, from the first time that I met him, was his originality. Even when we were really young, he found his voice very early, and it didn’t sound like anybody else’s voice.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>But here’s the thing about him, that I think people don’t really realize, is that as far as Asian American males in music, Lyrics Born is like, the most successful pioneer. I consider myself to be revolutionary and, you know, on the edge and all that. But I’m supporting someone who is arguably more … there’s a quality to what Lyrics Born has been able to do that you can’t replicate. I don’t really care who you are. You can only be the first person to step on the moon. Only one person gets to do that! You know what I mean? And it’s like outside of Don Ho, this guy’s got the most records.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>So when you talk about diversity, that’s true in a lot of ways for the Bay Area, and a lot of artists from here. But also for this man in particular. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>Watch the whole interview above.\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2016/06/Turntable.Break_-800x60.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"60\" class=\"aligncenter size-medium wp-image-11687704\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/06/Turntable.Break_.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/06/Turntable.Break_-400x30.jpg 400w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/06/Turntable.Break_-768x58.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003c/p>\n\n",
"blocks": [],
"excerpt": "Watch Latyrx onstage at KQED, discussing their Solesides/Quannum crew and its place in Bay Area hip-hop.",
"status": "publish",
"parent": 0,
"modified": 1726791175,
"stats": {
"hasAudio": false,
"hasVideo": false,
"hasChartOrMap": false,
"iframeSrcs": [],
"hasGoogleForm": false,
"hasGallery": false,
"hasHearkenModule": false,
"hasPolis": false,
"paragraphCount": 17,
"wordCount": 912
},
"headData": {
"title": "Lateef and Lyrics Born on Latyrx’s Early Years | KQED",
"description": "Watch Latyrx onstage at KQED, discussing their Solesides/Quannum crew and its place in Bay Area hip-hop.",
"ogTitle": "",
"ogDescription": "",
"ogImgId": "",
"twTitle": "",
"twDescription": "",
"twImgId": "",
"schema": {
"@context": "https://schema.org",
"@type": "Article",
"headline": "Lateef and Lyrics Born on Latyrx’s Early Years",
"datePublished": "2023-05-31T14:00:53-07:00",
"dateModified": "2024-09-19T17:12:55-07:00",
"image": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/02/KQED-OG-Image@1x.png"
}
},
"videoEmbed": "https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JYcxUdaO1n4",
"source": "That's My Word ",
"sourceUrl": "/bayareahiphop",
"sticky": false,
"WpOldSlug": "lateef-and-lyrics-born-on-latyrxs-early-years",
"templateType": "standard",
"featuredImageType": "standard",
"excludeFromSiteSearch": "Include",
"articleAge": "0",
"path": "/arts/13929861/latyrx-lateef-lyrics-born-solesides-quannum",
"audioTrackLength": null,
"parsedContent": [
{
"type": "contentString",
"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp>\u003cem>\u003cstrong>Editor’s note\u003c/strong>: This story is part of \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/bayareahiphop\">That’s My Word\u003c/a>, KQED’s year-long exploration of \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/bayareahiphop\">Bay Area hip-hop\u003c/a> history.\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In the Hall of Game that is Bay Area hip-hop, independent collectives loom large. Along with Hieroglyphics and Living Legends, the fiercely creative, multicultural group \u003ca href=\"http://www.kqed.org/bayareahiphop/timeline#solesides-makes-its-debut\">Solesides\u003c/a> helped define a certain only-in-the-Bay sensibility. With groundbreaking artists like \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13842646/hip-hop-photographer-b-shot-just-about-anyone-that-mattered\">DJ Shadow\u003c/a> and \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13899416/the-gift-of-gab-5-songs-to-know-by-the-blackalicious-legend\">Blackalicious\u003c/a>, the crew added a new, abstracted dimension to Bay Area hip-hop. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>One of its most dizzying groups was Latyrx. Above, watch Latyrx’s Lateef and Lyrics Born discuss Solesides’ early formation at UC Davis, its transformation into Quannum and its high-profile successes as a diverse Bay Area collective — as well as their enduring respect for their Bay Area colleagues and each other. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
"attributes": {
"named": {},
"numeric": []
}
},
{
"type": "component",
"content": "",
"name": "aside",
"attributes": {
"named": {
"postid": "arts_13923938",
"label": ""
},
"numeric": []
}
},
{
"type": "contentString",
"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cem>Select questions from the interview, edited for length and clarity:\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>In your own words, what makes Bay Area hip-hop special? \u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
"attributes": {
"named": {},
"numeric": []
}
},
{
"type": "component",
"content": "",
"name": "ad",
"attributes": {
"named": {
"label": "fullwidth"
},
"numeric": [
"fullwidth"
]
}
},
{
"type": "contentString",
"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Lateef\u003c/strong>: The Bay Area has always been a hodgepodge of a lot of different cultures and communities. And you see a reflection of that in Bay Area hip-hop in a way that you don’t in a lot of the other parts of the country. So here you have early, early on, contributing, folks of all different cultures. You got the \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13905208/a-new-generation-of-filipino-hip-hop-builds-on-a-deep-bay-area-legacy\">Invisibl Skratch Piklz\u003c/a>, which have been holding down the Bay for a long time. Obviously you have \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13927349/bay-area-hip-hop-1980s\">Too Short\u003c/a>, \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13927692/del-funky-homosapien-no-need-for-alarm-30-years-anniversary\">Del\u003c/a>, \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13927349/bay-area-hip-hop-1980s\">MC Hammer\u003c/a>. Those three styles right there. Too Short is as gangster and pimp shit as it gets. MC Hammer, who’s the blueprint for what Puff Daddy did — just the idea that you could take over the world with your music, and it didn’t matter that you were from the Bay Area. That’s part of the Bay Area identity. Musically, Del, just extreme creativity. I sound the way that I do because of Del. And \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13824571/oakland-sideshows-legalize-macarthur\">Richie Rich\u003c/a>. I sound the way I do because of \u003cem>all\u003c/em> of those people. \u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13929863\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/05/Latyrx.Lateef-800x532.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"532\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13929863\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/05/Latyrx.Lateef-800x532.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/05/Latyrx.Lateef-1020x678.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/05/Latyrx.Lateef-160x106.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/05/Latyrx.Lateef-768x511.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/05/Latyrx.Lateef-1536x1022.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/05/Latyrx.Lateef.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Lateef the Truthspeaker onstage at KQED. \u003ccite>(Alain McLaughlin)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>One thing we find in Bay Area hip-hop is this rich tradition of the independent hustle. You came together in the 1990s at this incredible scene around KDVS, the radio station at UC Davis, and became a major part of this lineage of independent collectives. Can you tell people a little bit about that? \u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Lyrics Born\u003c/strong>: You can’t really talk about music, in particular hip-hop, in the Bay Area without talking about this independent spirit. And then the label and music movement that spawned from that. You just have this intersectionality of free thought and politics and culture and history. You have all these dynamics that kind of converge. We have this very special culture. And the other thing that I think is notable is that we’re \u003cem>not\u003c/em> in New York. We’re \u003cem>not\u003c/em> in LA. So when we started Quannum and Solesides, it wasn’t because we wanted to set the world on fire as executives. Nobody else would put our music out! We had no choice. If we didn’t put it out, nobody else would. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Right out of the gate, Solesides and Latyrx reflected that multiculturalism of the Bay Area. Lyrics Born, you’re Japanese-American. Born in Tokyo, raised in Berkeley. And Lateef, you’re half Black, half Puerto Rican, some Algerian. How would you say your personal identity has come through in your music?\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Lyrics Born\u003c/strong>: The interesting thing about the Bay Area, and particularly Solesides and Quannum in the early ’90s, is that it’s kind of a case study in how multicultural groups can really succeed. We had probably the most diverse group collective of professional musicians, successful professional musicians, maybe in the history of music. Right? Period. Black, white, Indian, Japanese, Chinese, Italian, Algerian, Puerto Rican. Every single food group was represented.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13929864\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/05/Latyrx.LyricsBorn-800x532.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"532\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13929864\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/05/Latyrx.LyricsBorn-800x532.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/05/Latyrx.LyricsBorn-1020x678.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/05/Latyrx.LyricsBorn-160x106.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/05/Latyrx.LyricsBorn-768x511.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/05/Latyrx.LyricsBorn-1536x1022.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/05/Latyrx.LyricsBorn.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Lyrics Born onstage at KQED. \u003ccite>(Alain McLaughlin)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Lateef\u003c/strong>: I’m going to add to this question of cultural diversity, and I’m just going to point out that, you know, one of the things that I was always impressed by with Lyrics Born, from the first time that I met him, was his originality. Even when we were really young, he found his voice very early, and it didn’t sound like anybody else’s voice.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>But here’s the thing about him, that I think people don’t really realize, is that as far as Asian American males in music, Lyrics Born is like, the most successful pioneer. I consider myself to be revolutionary and, you know, on the edge and all that. But I’m supporting someone who is arguably more … there’s a quality to what Lyrics Born has been able to do that you can’t replicate. I don’t really care who you are. You can only be the first person to step on the moon. Only one person gets to do that! You know what I mean? And it’s like outside of Don Ho, this guy’s got the most records.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>So when you talk about diversity, that’s true in a lot of ways for the Bay Area, and a lot of artists from here. But also for this man in particular. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>Watch the whole interview above.\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2016/06/Turntable.Break_-800x60.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"60\" class=\"aligncenter size-medium wp-image-11687704\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/06/Turntable.Break_.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/06/Turntable.Break_-400x30.jpg 400w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/06/Turntable.Break_-768x58.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003c/p>\n\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>",
"attributes": {
"named": {},
"numeric": []
}
}
],
"link": "/arts/13929861/latyrx-lateef-lyrics-born-solesides-quannum",
"authors": [
"185"
],
"series": [
"arts_22314"
],
"categories": [
"arts_1",
"arts_69"
],
"tags": [
"arts_10278",
"arts_831",
"arts_11789",
"arts_20720",
"arts_20719",
"arts_19347",
"arts_3478"
],
"featImg": "arts_13929874",
"label": "source_arts_13929861"
},
"arts_13927349": {
"type": "posts",
"id": "arts_13927349",
"meta": {
"index": "posts_1716263798",
"site": "arts",
"id": "13927349",
"score": null,
"sort": [
1680722857000
]
},
"guestAuthors": [],
"slug": "bay-area-hip-hop-1980s",
"title": "How Bay Area Hip-Hop Found Its Sound in the 1980s",
"publishDate": 1680722857,
"format": "aside",
"headTitle": "How Bay Area Hip-Hop Found Its Sound in the 1980s | KQED",
"labelTerm": {},
"content": "\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13927363\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/that_s_my_word_____featured_image__3_-800x450.png\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"450\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13927363\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/that_s_my_word_____featured_image__3_-800x450.png 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/that_s_my_word_____featured_image__3_-1020x574.png 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/that_s_my_word_____featured_image__3_-160x90.png 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/that_s_my_word_____featured_image__3_-768x432.png 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/that_s_my_word_____featured_image__3_-1536x864.png 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/that_s_my_word_____featured_image__3_.png 1920w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">In the mid-1980s, after years of street dance, DJing and graffiti sharing equal space, rapping took center stage. The Bay Area’s bass-heavy sound would arrive at the end of the decade. (Clockwise from top left: Too Short, MC Hammer, Dominique DiPrima, Club Nouveau, and Motorcycle Mike.) \u003ccite>(Steve Ringman/San Francisco Chronicle via Getty Images; Al Pereira/Michael Ochs Archives/Getty Images; SFSU Television Archives; Raymond Boyd/Getty Images; Hodisk Records)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>\u003cstrong>Editor’s note\u003c/strong>: This story is part of \u003c/em>\u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/bayareahiphop\">That’s My Word\u003c/a>\u003cem>, KQED’s year-long exploration of \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/bayareahiphop\">Bay Area hip-hop\u003c/a> history, with new content dropping all throughout 2023.\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 4.6875em;float: left;line-height: 0.733em;padding: 0.05em 0.1em 0 0;font-family: times, serif, georgia\">I\u003c/span>t’s a wintry January evening when Bas-1 brings me to Del the Funky Homosapien’s house in the East Bay. For much of the afternoon, Bas — the \u003ca href=\"https://eastbayexpress.com/old-school-fool-1/\">Oakland native\u003c/a> who’s worked with Digital Underground and released \u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/results?search_query=bas-1+full+album+mentally+astute\">his own solo records\u003c/a> — has schooled me on the origins of the Bay Area hip-hop sound.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Bas lists numerous rappers from the ’80s, and not just Todd “Too Short” Shaw, the East Oakland rapper who famously hustled homemade cassette tapes. I’ve never heard most of the names Bas mentions: MC Chocolate Milk, Windell Baby Doll, Davy Def, Buddy Bean, Reggie Reg Rock Ski.ter, M.C. Tracy, Rock Master Fresh, Nic Nack, Kimmie Fresh, and the Acorn Crew with Grandmaster Fresh (a rapper later known as “DJ Daryl” Anderson, famed for producing tracks like 415’s “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yuZ6CAwZmys\">Side Show\u003c/a>” and 2Pac’s “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fAJfDP3b5_U\">Keep Ya Head Up\u003c/a>”).\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[aside postID='arts_13924126']Many of these early Bay Area rappers never put out a commercially available record. Instead, their work is mostly confined to locally distributed cassette tapes — collectors call them “gray tapes” — that are now nearly impossible to find. They publicly broadcasted these tapes throughout neighborhoods, utilizing boomboxes and car stereos as well as stereos at house parties. “None of them sound like Too Short,” says Bas. “Some of these people didn’t put out recordings, but they were known.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Throughout the 1980s, Bay Area hip-hop was an artistic movement struggling for a distinct identity. The first half of the decade was defined by street dance and aerosol art as much as rap and DJing. But as local youth began to absorb the sounds emanating from national hotspots like New York, they created a distinctive style all their own — one that would make a global impact in the years to come.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>At Del’s house, Bas queues up an extraordinary live video clip of \u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5u3eiG9BtdE\">Mac Mill, Emperor E, and DJ Anthony “K-os” Bryant\u003c/a> performing at \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/news/11690787/when-oakland-was-a-chocolate-city-a-brief-history-of-festival-at-the-lake\">Festival at the Lake\u003c/a>, a now-defunct annual event held at Lake Merritt, in 1988. (Alex “Naru” Reece, who organized the showcase where Mac Mill performed, clarified in a follow-up conversation that it didn’t happen during Festival at the Lake. He also says the showcase was filmed in 1986 for a 1988 video compilation.)\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Mac Mill and Emperor E go back and forth, trading sound effects and dense Oakland slang as K-os cuts and scratches copies of Long Island band Original Concept’s deathless bass classic, “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ai4VC0NUxl4\">Knowledge Me\u003c/a>.” Bas praises Mac Mill’s unusual “Arabian” style, which the latter deployed nearly a decade later with the 1995 single “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5_f0TB3Igro\">Arabian Hump\u003c/a>.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5u3eiG9BtdE\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Then, Bas-1 calls Chris “CJ Flash” Jourdan, an OG who worked with Timex Social Club, the Berkeley teen band whose 1986 electro-funk classic, “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jVce2IeYcTg\">Rumors\u003c/a>,” represented the first national breakthrough for Bay Area hip-hop culture. As Bas broadcasts CJ Flash’s voice from his phone through Del’s stereo equipment, CJ Flash spends the next hour or so describing a fledging scene where poppers and boogaloo dancers, not rappers or DJs, were the prime attractions. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>These ensembles drew from a street-dance tradition that \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13891300/reclaiming-the-legacy-of-oaklands-boogaloo-dance-culture\">dates back decades\u003c/a>. Their kinetic performances ignited crowds at high schools, house parties, and public spaces like Justin Herman Plaza and Union Square in San Francisco and UC Berkeley’s Sproul Plaza. Battles even took place on the street, with crews traveling to different neighborhoods around the region to seek out rivals. “You could meet with people on their turf and get down, and hopefully not get thumped in the process,” says CJ Flash. Many Bay Area hip-hop pioneers got their start in dance crews, including Club Nouveau’s Jay King (who pop-locked with The Unknowns), DJ King Tech (who was known as Wizard, and danced with Master City Breakers), and Flash himself (who \u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ub1TtnI4dh8\">performed with UFO\u003c/a>).\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ub1TtnI4dh8\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>By contrast, rapping was a relatively new and undeveloped skill, the lowest element on the hip-hop totem pole. “Anybody could rap. Anybody could say a bunch of basic rhyme words with no style and flavor,” says Bas, noting as an aside that “most folks couldn’t understand the lyrics anyway.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>How is a discussion about street dancers connected to an exploration of the Bay Area hip-hop sound? It’s important to understand the conditions under which the genre emerged locally.\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>Turntables, Casios and Homemade Tapes\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>As KQED’s Eric Arnold explains in “\u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13924126/the-bay-area-was-hip-hop-before-there-was-hip-hop\">The Bay Area Was Hip-Hop Before There Was Hip-Hop\u003c/a>,” foundational elements such as spoken word, funk, and rhythm & blues existed locally well before New Jersey trio Sugarhill Gang arrived with “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rKTUAESacQM\">Rapper’s Delight\u003c/a>” in the fall of 1979.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[aside postID='arts_13923978']At the same time, the Bay Area was not the Bronx, where breakbeat culture catalyzed and fermented. Bronx DJs, MCs and B-boys like Kool Herc, Grandmaster Flash, Afrika Bambaataa, Grandmaster Caz, the Rock Steady Crew and many others gained renown among mid-’70s New York youth long before “Rapper’s Delight.” By contrast, as CJ Flash explains, it took much of the 1980s for Bay Area youth to develop the cadences and rhythms we now associate with modern rap.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Back then, enterprising musicians couldn’t purchase studio software and distribute their own music on an internet platform like Soundcloud. Recording equipment was expensive. An unsigned artist needed the financial and business expertise to manufacture vinyl and cassettes with artwork, much less convince record stores like Leopold’s Records in Berkeley to carry them. (Recordable CD-Rs weren’t widely used until the 1990s.)\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>This helps explain why so many rappers utilized turntables and Casio keyboards, and then recorded their songs using the microphone input on relatively cheap stereo equipment. Captured on recordable cassettes like Maxell and TDK, some of these “gray tapes” simply had stickers with handwritten titles. More often, they weren’t labeled at all.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13927410\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/Naru.BoxofTapes.CloseUp-800x600.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"600\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13927410\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/Naru.BoxofTapes.CloseUp-800x600.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/Naru.BoxofTapes.CloseUp-1020x765.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/Naru.BoxofTapes.CloseUp-160x120.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/Naru.BoxofTapes.CloseUp-768x576.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/Naru.BoxofTapes.CloseUp-1536x1152.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/Naru.BoxofTapes.CloseUp.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">A box of handmade Bay Area rap tapes, part of Naru’s home archives. \u003ccite>(Mosi Reeves)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>In those days, Too Short was an outlier, a Fremont High School student who canvassed East Oakland spots like Arroyo Park, \u003ca href=\"https://medium.com/@bayareahiphoparchive/in-conversation-with-56fae687e9c\">selling copies of “Game Raps”\u003c/a> at a few dollars a pop. Since Short was originally from Los Angeles, he relied on rap partner Tony “Freddy B” Adams to show him around the Town. The duo \u003ca href=\"http://www.kqed.org/bayareahiphop/timeline#too-short-and-freddy-b-start-making-handmade-tapes\">made customized tapes for local drug dealers and players\u003c/a> in the city’s nightlife — now known as “special request” tapes — shouting out the customers’ names in their raps.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“Short was a hustler,” says CJ Flash. “He had a style of telling stories that was so outlandish and so funny that word got around.” Short and Freddy B developed the trademark “Biiiiitch!” catchphrase, and Short has often said that he and Freddy B intended to get famous together. Unfortunately, Freddy B was in prison when Short released his landmark “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YwVJTvOO4yY\">Freaky Tales\u003c/a>” tape in 1987. (Adams is \u003ca href=\"https://www.dailyrepublic.com/all-dr-news/solano-news/local-features/from-too-hort-colleague-to-christian-missionary/\">now a minister\u003c/a> at Mount Calvary Baptist Church in Fairfield.)\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13927341\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 676px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/TooShort.SFExaminer.1984.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"676\" height=\"455\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13927341\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/TooShort.SFExaminer.1984.jpg 676w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/TooShort.SFExaminer.1984-160x108.jpg 160w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 676px) 100vw, 676px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Too Short in 1984, at the age of 18. \u003ccite>(Katy Raddatz/San Francisco Examiner/Bancroft Library)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Others like Sir Quick Draw, Mac Mill, and Chief Naked Head (later known as Premo; he passed away in January of 2023) simply gave away their tapes or let friends copy or “dub” the originals. As Richmond rapper \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13925761/magic-mike-richmond-calvin-t-rap-hip-hop\">Magic Mike explained in a recent interview with Dregs One\u003c/a>, dubs of his tracks circulated as widely as Germany. “It was more or less trying to make a name for yourself…you had to make a tape,” adds CJ Flash.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Most importantly, Bay Area hip-hop in the ’80s was a primordial soup of youngsters figuring out what the local sound would be. The answers wouldn’t arrive until near the end of the decade. “The Bay Area was behind,” says CJ Flash, comparing it to more advanced regions like Los Angeles, South Florida, and New York. “We never thought about radio.”\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>‘A Pivotal Moment’\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>Alex “Naru Kwina” Hence remembers the first time he heard the Sugarhill Gang’s “Rapper’s Delight” as a 14-year-old preparing to attend Oakland High School. “When the song went off, everybody ran outside, like, ‘Did you hear that song?!” he laughs, calling it one of the best moments of his life. “It was a pivotal moment, bro. We literally started rapping the song and trying to remember it.” \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Naru called himself Sir Quick Draw, an alias inspired by Hanna-Barbera cartoon \u003cem>Quick Draw McGraw\u003c/em> as well as the fact that, as a runner, “I was hella fast.” He took inspiration from Kurtis Blow, the Harlem rapper who scored major hits like 1980’s “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qzl-2g5HhaI\">The Breaks\u003c/a>.” And Naru almost immediately began recording his voice on tape. His first original song was “The Caveman Rap,” which was inspired by Brooklyn rapper Jimmy Spicer’s 1980 single “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nkGLco0tGqc\">Adventures of Super Rhyme\u003c/a>.” Naru can still recite those verses from memory: \u003cem>Now people come and take a trip in time with me / Back to that sweet year one million B.C.\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“I still got that old-school flavor, man,” he admits. “Hip-hop was more fun for me back then.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13927368\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 600px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/Naru.Boxes_.1.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"600\" height=\"840\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13927368\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/Naru.Boxes_.1.jpg 600w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/Naru.Boxes_.1-160x224.jpg 160w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 600px) 100vw, 600px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Naru Kwina, who recorded under the names Sir Quick Draw and Em Cee Quick, poses with his home archives. \u003ccite>(Mosi Reeves)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>But rap in the Bay Area didn’t take off right away. “Most people would rap other people’s songs. They’d just repeat what they heard on the radio,” says Naru. Aspiring MCs honed their craft by congregating at Eastmont Mall, “trying to impress the girls, and getting our names on our derby jackets.” And when Tom Tom Club’s 1981 hit “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ECiMhe4E0pI\">Genius of Love\u003c/a>” dropped? “Everybody rapped over that joint, man. Too many people.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>It’s worth remembering that hip-hop was a phenomenon developed essentially by Black and Brown children. Rapping, pop-locking, spray-painting aerosol art on neighborhood walls, even DJing: These were youthful forms of play and creative expression.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Bas, who grew up in North Oakland, remembers \u003ca href=\"http://www.kqed.org/bayareahiphop/timeline#at-fishermans-wharf-a-street-dance-destination-emerges\">popping and “roboting” at Pier 39 on Fisherman’s Wharf\u003c/a> in the late ’70s as a child. “You have people like Ben [James] from Live Incorporated doing pantomime and roboting,” he says, noting one of the better-known dance crews. Dancers competed for attention and tips that they could spend on Snickers bars and arcade games. “Battle-wise, you had to have skill and talent to a certain caliber in order to truly be out on the Wharf or on Market [and Powell] in front of the cable cars,” he says.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13927321\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/GettyImages-1298788791-800x547.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"547\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13927321\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/GettyImages-1298788791-800x547.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/GettyImages-1298788791-1020x697.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/GettyImages-1298788791-160x109.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/GettyImages-1298788791-768x525.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/GettyImages-1298788791.jpg 1024w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">A street dance crew called The Vita Family perform at Pier 39 in 1986. \u003ccite>(Liz Hafalia/San Francisco Chronicle via Getty Images)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Local newspaper stories focused on the emergence of hip-hop as a youth obsession. Enterprising teachers incorporated it into their lesson plans. On high-school campuses, fledgling DJs like Joseph Thomas “G.I. Joe” Simms Jr. at El Cerrito High School and groups like the Devastating Four proliferated. At house parties, mobile DJ crews spun the latest electro, boogie-funk, and rap hits.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Gatherings at schools, churches, and community centers typically reserved a few minutes for fledgling local rap and dance crews to perform. This was also the era of \u003ca href=\"http://www.kqed.org/bayareahiphop/timeline#nancy-reagan-visits-oakland-and-coins-the-phrase-just-say-no\">the Reagan Administration’s “Just Say No” campaign\u003c/a>, and kids were often asked to help spread an anti-drug message through raps. “Inspired by rapping groups such as Sugar Hill, Run DMC, Jeckyl and Hyde and Mell (sic) and the Furious Five, teen-agers create their own raps mostly for fun and to bring attention to themselves,” read a June 29, 1985, story in the \u003cem>San Francisco Examiner\u003c/em>. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[aside postID='arts_13925415']In the first half of the decade, street dance remained a focal point. \u003ca href=\"https://www.npr.org/2022/12/04/1140504217/double-dutch-fantastic-four-holiday-classic\">Double Dutch jump-rope competitions\u003c/a> sponsored by McDonald’s drew thousands to Lincoln Square Center in Oakland. The San Francisco Street Breakers held a fundraising benefit, “Super Break Sunday,” at San Francisco’s Palace of Fine Arts in 1985. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Ironically, street dance “got played out” after the success of Hollywood movies like \u003cem>Beat Street\u003c/em> and \u003cem>Breakin’\u003c/em>, and rap music moved to the center of hip-hop culture. Quickening the process were concerts by Black music stars like the \u003ca href=\"http://www.kqed.org/bayareahiphop/timeline#the-fresh-fest-comes-to-oakland\">Fresh Festival\u003c/a>, the first national hip-hop tour, with headliners Run-DMC at the Oakland Coliseum. Local radio tentatively began to experiment with rap, notably KMEL-FM and its mix DJs such as Michael Erickson and \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13828163/watch-cameron-paul-give-a-masterclass-in-early-djing\">the late Cameron Paul\u003c/a>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13927323\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 640px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/FreshFest.Flyer_-1020x1517.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"640\" height=\"952\" class=\"size-large wp-image-13927323\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/FreshFest.Flyer_-1020x1517.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/FreshFest.Flyer_-800x1190.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/FreshFest.Flyer_-160x238.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/FreshFest.Flyer_-768x1142.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/FreshFest.Flyer_-1033x1536.jpg 1033w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/FreshFest.Flyer_.jpg 1345w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 640px) 100vw, 640px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">A flyer for the Fresh Festival, which arrived in Oakland in 1984.\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>“By 1985, there was this incredible scene in the South Bay,” says Adisa “The Bishop” Banjoko. As a teen DJ in San Bruno “who looked like Urkel,” he remembers traveling far and wide to buy records, from Creative Music Emporium in San Francisco to T’s Wauzi in Oakland. Meanwhile, nightclubs like Mothers and Studio 47 brought a fusion of hip-hop, freestyle and techno. “San Jose had underage hip-hop teenage clubs, and no other city had those,” he says. (Banjoko later became a rapper, a journalist, and now promotes jiu-jitsu, meditation and chess with his company \u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/real64blocks/?hl=en\">64 Blocks\u003c/a>.)\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Back in Oakland, Naru continued making tapes. “I come from a musical family. My cousin’s the Maestro” — a.k.a. producer Keenan Foster, who has worked with Too Short, Dru Down, and Askari X — “and a lot of my family sings. I got a drum machine, a little Yamaha keyboard. I would play my bass lines. We had double-cassette decks.” He collaborated with Taj “Turntable T” Tilghman, “who was dope on the turntables.” Turntable T eventually bought a Roland TR-808 drum machine, the instrument du jour for def beat MCs. “When that 808 came, that was it. Everyone loved that deck. \u003cem>Boom!\u003c/em>”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“Gray tapes” that circulated weren’t the EP and album-length releases we’re familiar with today. Some tapes only had one song per side; or maybe just one song on one side, period. Artists were judged not only by their ability to rap engagingly for several minutes, but also to chop up a familiar beat like Whodini’s “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o5r0i2ZAbCc\">Friends\u003c/a>,” transforming it into something fresh and original; or even make rudimentary 808 beats. For example, Too Short drew attention for “rapping the longest,” as Bas explains, leading to songs that lasted eight or nine minutes.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13927334\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/Adisa.portrait-800x682.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"682\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13927334\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/Adisa.portrait-800x682.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/Adisa.portrait-1020x870.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/Adisa.portrait-160x136.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/Adisa.portrait-768x655.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/Adisa.portrait.jpg 1200w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Adisa Banjoko in the 1980s. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Adisa Banjoko)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>“Those tapes were everywhere. Everyone was trying to see what was possible,” says Banjoko. In 1987, he began making raps under the name MC Most Ill. His first song was “Rhyme Junkie.” “The truth was, some of it was really cool but a lot of it actually also sucked, because [the art form] was brand new. … The quality control was not there.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>On August 18, 1984, the \u003cem>San Francisco Examiner\u003c/em> published an article called “Rapping with Too-Short,” the first story on the 18-year-old prodigy. Pacific News Service journalist Anthony Adams called Short’s songs “preacher-like yarns over pre-recorded music,” and noted that one of them was about automaker John DeLorean, whose conviction for cocaine trafficking made national news. Short claimed he and his partner Freddy B sold over 2,000 tapes. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The \u003cem>Chronicle-Examiner\u003c/em> also frequently interviewed \u003ca href=\"https://www.dominiquediprima.com/\">Dominique “Lady D” DiPrima\u003c/a>, a New York transplant and San Francisco State University student who rapped, sung, and organized events. DiPrima possessed a rich family pedigree — her father was the jazz writer Amiri Baraka, her mother the beat poet Diane DiPrima. In late 1984, \u003ca href=\"http://www.kqed.org/bayareahiphop/timeline#home-turf-premieres-on-kron-tv\">KRON-TV recruited her to host \u003cem>Home Turf\u003c/em>\u003c/a>, a Saturday-afternoon program that became appointment viewing for local teens.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“Everyone had a crush on Dominique,” says Naru, giggling.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13927320\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/DominiqueDiprima.HomeTurf.SFSU_-800x541.png\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"541\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13927320\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/DominiqueDiprima.HomeTurf.SFSU_-800x541.png 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/DominiqueDiprima.HomeTurf.SFSU_-1020x690.png 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/DominiqueDiprima.HomeTurf.SFSU_-160x108.png 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/DominiqueDiprima.HomeTurf.SFSU_-768x520.png 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/DominiqueDiprima.HomeTurf.SFSU_-1536x1039.png 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/DominiqueDiprima.HomeTurf.SFSU_.png 1540w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Dominique DiPrima, pictured here hosting a 1987 episode of ‘Home Turf’ on KRON-4. \u003ccite>(SFSU Television Archive)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003ch2>The First Bay Area Rap Record Opens the Floodgates\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>One of the under-acknowledged aspects of early hip-hop is the way elder Black musicians shepherded young artists into the recording industry.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The late Sylvia Robinson, who was inducted into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame in 2022, initially emerged in the mid-’50s as one-half of Mickey & Sylvia, who scored a national hit with “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5SwMB9v1pQ4\">Love Is Strange\u003c/a>.” As a ’70s solo artist and producer, Robinson made slinky, Eartha Kitt-like erotic disco capers such as “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NA2X1040_gY\">Pillow Talk\u003c/a>” and “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EPScEJ66_m4\">Sweet Stuff\u003c/a>.” After discovering hip-hop when she heard DJ Lovebug Starski at a party, Robinson formed Sugar Hill Records, and turned three rapping teens she found in New Jersey into its first act, the Sugarhill Gang.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>This process of soul veterans working with young people resulted in independent 12” singles that mirrored — if not yet accurately capturing — the nascent rap sound at a time when big companies virtually ignored it. With his Mercury Records contract, Kurtis Blow was the only act with a major album deal. A handful of other pioneers like DJ Hollywood scored one-off 12” deals.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>A similar process played out in the Bay Area.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2R_h9BCuvBE\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The first Bay Area rap record is widely considered to be Phil “Motorcycle Mike” Lewis and the Rat Trap Band’s “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p4Odk2Vu70s\">Super Rat\u003c/a>,” a 1981 boogie-funk single notoriously released by East Oakland heroin kingpin Milton “Mickey Mo” Moore’s Hodisk Records. The name “Hodisk” was a cheeky reference to his onetime side business as a pimp. (Moore has since reformed and is now a pastor in West Oakland.) In fact, Mickey Mo boasts in his 1996 autobiography \u003cem>\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9qy6RNV6f5w\">The Man: The Life Story of a Drug Kingpin\u003c/a>\u003c/em>, “Hodisk Records became the first record company on the West Coast to release a rap record.” (The first L.A. rap record, Disco Daddy and Captain Rapp’s “The Gigolo Rapp,” was also released in 1981.)\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Mickey Mo has another claim to rap lore: In 1980, he \u003ca href=\"http://www.kqed.org/bayareahiphop/timeline#the-first-rap-performance-on-a-major-stage\">helped finance an Oakland Coliseum concert\u003c/a> headlined by L.A. funk band War, with the Sugarhill Gang as a supporting act. Journalist Lee Hildebrand’s pre-concert interview with the Gang in the \u003cem>Oakland Tribune\u003c/em> was the first mention of rap music in the local press. A second funk-rap novelty, Steve Walker’s “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vB9jCLUWwBY\">Tally Ho!\u003c/a>,” also appeared in 1981. In 1983, San Francisco’s Debo & Brian released the electro-funk EP \u003cem>\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vgv_AfTbEng\">This Is It\u003c/a>\u003c/em>. The momentum had started.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“I had made this vow that I would never ever do anything having to do with rap,” laughs Claytoven Richardson. During his long career, the Berkeley-born, Oakland-raised Richardson worked with Aretha Franklin, Kenny G, Whitney Houston, Elton John, and Celine Dion. But in the early ’80s, he was best known as a singer, producer, and arranger with hot dancefloor jazz-funk bands like Bill Summers & Summers’ Heat. His anti-rap stance reflected the music industry at large in the 1980s. “Nobody had the foresight to see that it would morph and change and do the things that it’s done,” he says.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13927369\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 625px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/ClaytovenRichardson.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"625\" height=\"352\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13927369\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/ClaytovenRichardson.jpg 625w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/ClaytovenRichardson-160x90.jpg 160w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 625px) 100vw, 625px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Claytoven Richardson pictured in March 2023 in Los Angeles, California. \u003ccite>(Steven Simione/Getty Images)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Still, Richardson couldn’t avoid the increasingly popular genre when he scored a production deal at Fantasy Records, the onetime Berkeley jazz label also known for innovative acts like Sylvester and Cybotron, as well as one-off singles generated by a “throw it against the wall and see if it sticks” philosophy. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>One of the records Richardson produced in that anything-goes environment was Mighty Mouth’s satirical complaint, “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VU1hAFnrtU8\">I’m All Rapped Out\u003c/a>.” (He wasn’t the only one annoyed over rap; perhaps out of wishful thinking, a 1985 \u003cem>San Francisco Chronicle\u003c/em> article referred to the “fast-fading hip-hop scene.”) A vocalist named Lawrence Pittman didn’t show up for the session, so Richardson performed the lyrics himself. However, Pittman showed up to rap on Mighty Mouth’s second single, “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IqfQcLbemE4\">The Roaches\u003c/a>,” which parodied Whodini’s electro hit, “Freaks Come Out at Night.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Other scattered local raps appeared between 1985 and 1986. Former boogaloo dancer Jay King, just home from a stint in the Air Force and splitting time between Sacramento and Vallejo, formed a group called Frost and released “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hObIekxeoSg\">Battle Beat\u003c/a>.” His friends Denzil Foster & Thomas McElroy produced it, as well as another electro-rap track, Sorcerey’s “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6ap6uw-kX8o\">Woo Baby\u003c/a>.” Pittsburg rapper James “Red Beat” Briggs issued “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a7dUlMEZUSc\">Freak City\u003c/a>,” which was later remixed by N.W.A. co-founder Arabian Prince. And there was Rodney “Disco Alamo” Brown, from Richmond, whose 12” “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6K-pXg1DY98\">The Task Force\u003c/a>” is \u003ca href=\"http://www.kqed.org/bayareahiphop/timeline#richmonds-task-force-memorialized-on-wax\">an early example\u003c/a> of Bay Area rap chronicling street life.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13927313\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/GettyImages-1206295164-800x484.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"484\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13927313\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/GettyImages-1206295164-800x484.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/GettyImages-1206295164-1020x618.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/GettyImages-1206295164-160x97.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/GettyImages-1206295164-768x465.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/GettyImages-1206295164.jpg 1024w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Too Short, pictured at his manager’s house in Oakland on September 21, 1987. \u003ccite>(Steve Ringman/San Francisco Chronicle via Getty Images)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Most importantly, Too Short’s rising buzz led to a deal with deep East Oakland entrepreneur Dean Hodges’ 75 Girls label. Released in 1985, the resulting \u003cem>Don’t Stop Rappin’\u003c/em> was the first official album by a local rapper. While fans of a certain age still treasure protean electro-funk tracks like “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L2ywke376NQ\">Girl\u003c/a>” — which E-40 referenced on his 1998 hit, “Earl, That’s Yo Life” — the album couldn’t compare to his raunchy and wickedly hilarious “special request” tapes.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>It was during this period that Naru finally got his chance in the studio. Since 1984, UC Berkeley station \u003ca href=\"http://www.kqed.org/bayareahiphop/timeline#college-radio-makes-its-mark\">KALX-FM\u003c/a> served as home to “Music for the People,” a Sunday-morning community affairs and music show hosted by the late Charles “Natty Prep” Douglass, as well as DJs like Billy “Jam” Kiernan (who also broadcast on San Francisco State University station KUSF-FM), David “Davey D” Cook, and funkster Rickey “The Uhuru Maggot” Vincent. When Naru won \u003ca href=\"https://wfmu.org/playlists/shows/107287\">a 1986 rap contest hosted by Billy Jam on KALX\u003c/a>, he earned a deal with Bay Wave Records, a local imprint distributed by Hollywood-based Macola Records. Richardson was hired to produce the session.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dLlNn1Zh1ww\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“[Quick Draw] was a great rapper. He had a lot of great lyrics and ideas,” says Richardson. On “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dLlNn1Zh1ww\">Rapaholic\u003c/a>,” Richardson and session engineer Michael Denten (who later worked with Spice 1 and E-40) accompanied Quick Draw’s dexterous and energetic raps with sharp-angled percussive edits and sound effects reminiscent of The Art of Noise and Mantronix.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“Respect to Claytoven,” says Naru, who not only continues to make music but also owns a company, \u003ca href=\"http://hiplearning.org/\">Hip Learning\u003c/a>, that promotes childhood education with rap. He wasn’t entirely satisfied with the “Rapaholic” experience: “They made the record sound hella more polished. It was [supposed to be] a little more underground than that.” However, he adds, “[Claytoven] taught us a lot in the studio about the mics they use and how to mix. It was a good experience.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13927411\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 600px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/SirQuickdrawFlyer.72dpi.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"600\" height=\"889\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13927411\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/SirQuickdrawFlyer.72dpi.jpg 600w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/SirQuickdrawFlyer.72dpi-160x237.jpg 160w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 600px) 100vw, 600px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">A photocopied flyer advertising Sir Quick Draw’s single ‘Rapaholic.’ \u003ccite>(Mosi Reeves)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003ch2>A Radio Breakthrough — And a Kid Named Hammer\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>As the trajectory of Bay Area hip-hop waxed and waned, three catalyzing moments brought the scene into focus.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The first was an R&B track. Timex Social Club’s “Rumors” captured the pulse of Bay Area youth culture, from Marcus Thompson and Alex Hill’s skittering electro-funk bass and drums to singer Michael Marshall’s distinctly regional accent and coy recitation of schoolyard gossip (“Did you hear the one about Michael? Some say he must be gay…”) Produced by Jay King and Denzil Foster and released on King’s Jay Records in February 1986, it mushroomed into a top ten \u003cem>Billboard\u003c/em> pop hit and dominated radio all year.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jVce2IeYcTg\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>But by the summer, Timex Social Club was falling apart and trading accusations with King over money and credit. The group’s only album \u003cem>Vicious Rumors\u003c/em> — by that point it was just Michael Marshall — featured drum programming from CJ Flash and a shout-out to KALX’s Natty Prep, who helped break “Rumors” on his “Music and Life” show. Marshall retreated from the spotlight before \u003ca href=\"http://www.kqed.org/bayareahiphop/timeline#i-got-5-on-it-remix-a-meeting-of-greats-recorded-in-alameda\">re-emerging as the hook man\u003c/a> on the Luniz’ 1995 smash “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ERtkpnXLrL4\">I Got 5 on It\u003c/a>.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>After breaking with Timex Social Club, King formed a group called Jet Set and signed a deal with Warner Bros. Records. The group changed their name to Club Nouveau before debuting with the single “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lKWhkjXV5uM\">Jealousy\u003c/a>.” A follow-up, the Bill Withers cover “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kbyjaUJWWmk\">Lean on Me\u003c/a>,” went to number-one on the \u003cem>Billboard\u003c/em> Hot 100, while Club Nouveau’s debut album \u003cem>Life, Love & Pain\u003c/em> went platinum.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13927310\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/GettyImages-1346275851-800x489.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"489\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13927310\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/GettyImages-1346275851-800x489.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/GettyImages-1346275851-1020x624.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/GettyImages-1346275851-160x98.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/GettyImages-1346275851-768x470.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/GettyImages-1346275851.jpg 1024w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Singers Samuelle Prater, Jay King and Valerie Watson of Club Nouveau performs at the U.I.C. Pavilion in Chicago, Illinois in August 1987. \u003ccite>(Raymond Boyd/Getty Images)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>King’s growing stardom rippled across the Bay and reached Felton Pilate, the Vallejo keyboardist, singer, and producer best known as a driving force in Bay Area funk stars Con Funk Shun. The two had already worked together on King’s onetime rap group Frost; Pilate engineered that record. Pilate soon added one of King’s projects, Sacramento R&B/rap group New Choice, to a growing slate of projects he produced and engineered at his Felstar Studios.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Felstar Studios was the culmination of work he had begun while not touring and rehearsing with Con Funk Shun. At his home studio on Sandpiper Drive in Vallejo, Pilate helped assemble records for fledgling local artists. “I never thought of myself as just a studio,” he says, where he simply records his clients. “I have a little experience here. I’ve got several gold albums. Here, let me pass on some of this knowledge.” When asked if he considered himself a mentor, he demurs, even though that’s arguably what he was. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>When Pilate opened Felstar Studios on Sonoma Boulevard, his trusted associate was James Earley, a young engineer whom he credits for adding a more contemporary sensibility to the Studios’ output. Among the locals who came to them were M.V.P., a family trio consisting of Earl Stevens, Danell Stevens, and Brandt Jones. Their 1988 12”, \u003cem>\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sfLuAL6DueI\">The Kings Men\u003c/a>\u003c/em>, also included Tanina Stevens and Angela Pressley, who called themselves Sugar ‘N’ Spice. The members of M.V.P. updated their stage names to E-40, D-Shot and B-Legit, added Tanina as Suga T, and \u003ca href=\"http://www.kqed.org/bayareahiphop/timeline#the-clicks-down-dirty-ushers-in-mobb-music-era\">evolved into The Click\u003c/a>, arguably becoming the most famous rap group to emerge from Vallejo.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13927370\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 700px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/MVP.e-40.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"700\" height=\"700\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13927370\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/MVP.e-40.jpg 700w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/MVP.e-40-160x160.jpg 160w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 700px) 100vw, 700px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">M.V.P., a 1988 Vallejo rap group featuring Busy D, E-40 and Legit (L–R). The three would later add E-40’s sister Suga T and become known as The Click. \u003ccite>(Gerry Ericksen / Rushforce Records)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>In 1986, Pilate and Earley both had solo deals at Berkeley’s Fantasy Records. It was there that Pilate met a former Oakland A’s batboy named Stanley “Holyghost Boy” Burrell through Fantasy Records producer Fred L. Pittman. “Fred would often hire me to do keyboard arrangements for him,” says Pilate. When Pittman asked him to play keys for Holyghost Boy, Pilate responded, “Hey Fred, why don’t you let me take the reins on this?”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>As a classically trained jazz and classical musician, Pilate didn’t think much of rap, even though Con Funk Shun not only included a rap verse on a 1982 single, “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GQ9GHVTI-EE\">Ain’t Nobody Baby\u003c/a>”; but also made “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kmmzvN7raB0\">Electric Lady\u003c/a>,” a 1985 hit produced by Larry Smith of Whodini fame that landed in the top five of \u003cem>Billboard\u003c/em>’s Black Singles chart. “Musically, I wasn’t a fan, but as a producer, I said, ‘I can do this,’” he says. “Like everyone else, Con Funk Shun wanted to be relevant, and rap was all over the radio.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The tracks Burrell brought to Pilate consisted of him rapping over sparse Yamaha RX5 drum-machine parts. Pilate responded by going into “study mode.” He listened to the rap stuff that was getting airplay like Doug E. Fresh & the Get Fresh Crew. As a result, the skittering percussion on Burrell’s “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=akVWFiptGNY\">Let’s Get It Started\u003c/a>” is reminiscent of the go-go-inspired arrangements on Doug E. Fresh hits like “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6sGw9GSCiYU\">The Show\u003c/a>” and “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-UtqnKIF7kE\">All the Way to Heaven\u003c/a>.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13927325\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/Hammer.VIdeoShoot.NewParish.Getty_-800x565.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"565\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13927325\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/Hammer.VIdeoShoot.NewParish.Getty_-800x565.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/Hammer.VIdeoShoot.NewParish.Getty_-1020x720.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/Hammer.VIdeoShoot.NewParish.Getty_-160x113.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/Hammer.VIdeoShoot.NewParish.Getty_-768x542.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/Hammer.VIdeoShoot.NewParish.Getty_.jpg 1024w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">MC Hammer films the music video for ‘Let’s Get It Started’ at Sweet Jimmie’s nightclub in downtown Oakland, March 19, 1988. \u003ccite>(Deanne Fitzmaurice/San Francisco Chronicle via Getty Images)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>“My thing was to make it more music-driven than beat-driven,” says Pilate. In many cases, he simply “listened to what [Burrell] was talking about and wrote a straight R&B song underneath it.” He also gives credit to Earley, who helped refine the drum programming and brought “that younger ear” to the project. They incorporated stock horn stabs from a battery of Juno, Roland, and Yamaha drum machines. Meanwhile, Kent “The Lone Mixer” Wilson and Bryant “D.J. Redeemed” Marable added rhythmic scratches by cutting up Curtis Mayfield and Beastie Boys records.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>After the demos were finished, Fantasy Records dropped Pilate, Earley and Burrell from their deals. “They weren’t really sure how to market any of us,” says Pilate. Then, he chuckles, “The next time I ran into the Holyghost Boy, he had changed his name to MC Hammer.” After forming Bustin’ Records in Fremont with financial help from Oakland A’s ballplayers like Mike Davis and Dwayne Murphy, Hammer turned the Pilate demos into three 12”s — “Ring ’Em,” “The Thrill Is Gone” and “Let’s Get It Started” — and the 1987 album \u003cem>Feel My Power\u003c/em>. “I was like, man, those were rough mixes! You were supposed to come back and let me fix that!” Pilate laughs.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Everyone involved in Bay Area hip-hop has vivid memories of MC Hammer blowing up. Near-mythical stories of his local takeover abound, like attending local concerts surrounded by a massive crew; or tearing up the dance floor at The Silks, a popular nightclub in Emeryville.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13927324\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/Hammer.Pilate-800x727.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"727\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13927324\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/Hammer.Pilate-800x727.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/Hammer.Pilate-1020x926.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/Hammer.Pilate-160x145.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/Hammer.Pilate-768x698.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/Hammer.Pilate.jpg 1058w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">MC Hammer and Fenton Pilate in modern times. Pilate engineered and co-produced MC Hammer’s first recordings. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Felton Pilate)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Today, it’s worth revisiting \u003cem>Feel My Power\u003c/em> and 1988’s \u003cem>Let’s Get It Started\u003c/em>. Released after Hammer signed with Capitol Records, \u003cem>Let’s Get It Started\u003c/em> found Hammer and Pilate remixing those original demos while adding vital new tracks like “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9sZVcXzSE3M\">Pump It Up\u003c/a>.” The results are bombastic and vibrant dance-floor jams as ecstatic as anything by Kid ‘n’ Play and Salt-n-Pepa. Hammer’s subsequent leap into pop superstardom with 1990’s \u003cem>Please Hammer Don’t Hurt ‘Em\u003c/em> and the ubiquity of “U Can’t Touch This” obscure just how great those early tracks are.\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>Eight Woofers in the Trunk\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>MC Hammer’s major-label arrival in 1988 capped a year of Bay Area hip-hop on the cusp of national exposure. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>After Too Short issued \u003cem>Born to Mack\u003c/em> in the fall of 1987 on his Dangerous Music label, Jive Records picked it up. (Dangerous Music also issued \u003cem>Dangerous Crew\u003c/em>, a compilation of vital Bay Area acts like Spice-1, Rappin’ 4-Tay, and the female duo Danger Zone.) Digital Underground’s playful and psychedelic “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5zQ1frcgSbI\">Underwater Rimes\u003c/a> / \u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VpBNB20wVo0\">Your Life’s a Cartoon\u003c/a>” led to a deal with Tommy Boy. Local talent waited in the wings, including rapper/producer Paris (A.T.C.’s “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yHpiPWfOBk4\">Cisco Jam\u003c/a>”), Sway & King Tech (\u003cem>\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FBJujmVXiwE\">Flynamic Force\u003c/a>\u003c/em> EP), Dangerous Dame (“\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t9Frj4j09GE\">The Power That’s Packed\u003c/a>”), and MC Twist and the Def Squad (“\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4lZz7qhjfjw\">Just Rock\u003c/a>”). And the late Cameron Paul, known for his “Beats & Pieces” breakbeats, remixed Queens trio Salt-n-Pepa’s 1987 track “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SPkdk1oMmtE\">Push It\u003c/a>” into a global phenomenon.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13828164\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2018/03/CameronPaul-800x496.jpg\" alt=\"Cameron Paul reveals his mixing secrets.\" width=\"800\" height=\"496\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13828164\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/03/CameronPaul.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/03/CameronPaul-160x99.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/03/CameronPaul-768x476.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/03/CameronPaul-240x149.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/03/CameronPaul-375x233.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/03/CameronPaul-520x322.jpg 520w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Cameron Paul, who provided the spine of New Orleans bounce music with ‘Brown Beats’ and recorded a smash-hit remix of Salt ‘n’ Pepa’s ‘Push It,’ was also a prominent club and radio megamix DJ in San Francisco. \u003ccite>(YouTube)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Incidentally, the first local group to score a major label deal wasn’t Hammer, but Surf MCs, a Berkeley group that Profile Records promoted as a Beastie Boys-like rap/rock crossover. Their 1987 album \u003cem>\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ojCAqdBA7uA\">Surf or Die\u003c/a>\u003c/em> proved a flop.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Yet the third moment that catalyzed Bay Area hip-hop wasn’t a singular record like Timex Social Club’s “Rumors,” or an artist like Hammer and Short. It was the sound of walloping, all-enveloping bass.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Made for surgically enhanced car and jeep stereos, the bass colossus is as much a feature of hip-hop in the mid-’80s as the pounding Roland TR-808 machine, from Rick Rubin’s production on LL Cool J’s “Rock the Bells” and T La Rock’s “It’s Yours” to Rodney O and DJ Joe Cooley’s “Everlasting Bass” and Dr. Dre’s work on Eazy-E’s “The Boyz-N-The Hood.” It also mirrors the crack-cocaine epidemic that began to blight and distort communities across the country. As street life turned treacherous, the specter of the hustler, and whether to become one, cast a growing shadow.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[aside postID='arts_13925761']“Then the new style came, the bass got deeper / You gave up the mike and bought you a beeper / Do you want to rap or sell coke? / Brothers like you ain’t never broke,” Too Short memorably rapped on his 1989 hit, “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CvfUUOO0xoM\">Life Is…Too Short\u003c/a>.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Banjoko recalls how the presence of gangs transformed local shows. “You would see a bunch of people dressed up together [in the same gear], and you might assume they were a rap or dance crew. They were young drug lords,” he says. “You could get trampled, beat up or robbed by any of them. I remember 69 Ville being massively deep at the Fresh Fest and the [Run-DMC] Raising Hell tour. They were terrifying, straight up. You were going to tuck your chain, you were going to take your Kangol off, or they were going to take it.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13927326\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 600px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/HughEMC.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"600\" height=\"409\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13927326\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/HughEMC.jpg 600w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/HughEMC-160x109.jpg 160w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 600px) 100vw, 600px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Hugh EMC, the San Francisco rapper whose 1988 single ‘It’s the Game’ unflinchingly chronicled street life. \u003ccite>(Soul Sonic Records)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Rap imagery became more honest and explicit. Some like Richmond rapper Magic Mike, San Francisco’s Hugh EMC (“\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b_p7L0eJfKI\">It’s the Game\u003c/a>”), and Oakland’s Hollywood (“\u003ca href=\"https://www.discogs.com/release/641778-Hollywood-Stay-Heart-And-Soul-Raps-Just-A-Battlefield\">Gangster Rap\u003c/a>”) seemed to embrace the hustler ethos, while cautiously adding verses about the consequences of that lifestyle. Then there was Oakland rapper Morocco Moe, whose “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ogNoOCIVPrI\">Task\u003c/a>” criticized how law enforcement brutalized communities in the War on Drugs: “Their intentions are good/But their actions are wrong.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“Every Black neighborhood was infested” with crack, says Vallejo producer Khayree Shaheed. “There was an influx of money coming into young Black men, but there was also a lot of death occurring.” The epidemic also marked his entry into the world of rap.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>As a descendant of the Bay Area’s vaunted funk tradition, Khayree spent the ’70s and early ’80s playing bass guitar for bands like Grand Larceny, Body Mind & Spirit and Touch of Class (with keyboardist Rosie Gaines, who later joined Prince & the New Power Generation). His travels took him across the U.S. and even to Japan, where Touch of Class lived and performed for several months. (Though his bands made demos, there are no official recordings to date.) When asked about the first time he heard rap, Khayree cites “jazzoetry” ensembles like The Last Poets, not the Sugarhill Gang. And as a youth growing up on Lofas Place in Vallejo, he spent plenty of time following Con Funk Shun, hoping to apprentice with the biggest band in the city.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13927412\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/Khayree.1979.DockoftheBay.72dpi-800x510.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"510\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13927412\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/Khayree.1979.DockoftheBay.72dpi-800x510.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/Khayree.1979.DockoftheBay.72dpi-1020x651.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/Khayree.1979.DockoftheBay.72dpi-160x102.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/Khayree.1979.DockoftheBay.72dpi-768x490.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/Khayree.1979.DockoftheBay.72dpi-1536x980.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/Khayree.1979.DockoftheBay.72dpi.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Vallejo musician Khayree Shaheed, playing bass onstage in 1979. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Khayree Shaheed)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Khayree was in his mid-20s when Rod “I.C.E.” Andrews and Dan “Luvva D” Morrison a.k.a. the Luvva Twins brought Khayree a demo they had made on a Casio keyboard, “Hubba Head.” The song title was slang for a crack addict, and the duo described the “hubba head’s” descent into addiction with charismatic punch. They arranged the music and rapped most of the lyrics, while Khayree dropped a short verse and added guitar.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Khayree had already spent time at Pilate’s home studio, honing his writing and production skills. (“I always enjoyed working with him,” says Pilate.) Now, he brought “Hubba Head” to Pilate, and the two prepared it for release. Setting up his own label, Big Bank Records, Khayree distributed two hundred copies of the 12” to DJs and influencers. “The record was super popular in the streets,” says Khayree.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pArkWvlAebg\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>After “Hubba Head,” Khayree began working with Jay King, a fellow graduate of Vallejo High School. The opportunity to write and produce New Choice’s 1987 single “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q-VLZQ4X1yA\">Cold Stupid\u003c/a>” and most of the quintet’s 1988 debut, \u003cem>At Last\u003c/em>, gave him important experience on a major project and financial stability. By fusing bass, funky R&B and hip-hop breakbeats, New Choice reflected a parallel R&B movement that both influenced and was inspired by the hip-hop scene. Similar Bay Area acts included Oakland’s Tony! Toni! Toné!, who parlayed backing sessions for Sheila E. and Tramaine Hawkins into a major-label deal.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Flush from his experience with New Choice, Khayree was ready to start his own company. “I’m listening to EPMD’s \u003cem>Strictly Business\u003c/em>,” he says, inspiring the name of his second label, Strictly Business Records. He knew that Mike “The Mac” Robinson, who also grew up on Lofas Place, was a rapper. Robinson hailed from a musical family: his uncle Steve “Silver” Scales was a well-traveled Vallejo funk percussionist who played with Talking Heads, Tom Tom Club, and the B-52s. (Though it would be a delicious coincidence, Scales didn’t perform on “Genius of Love.”) Khayree encouraged Robinson to take music more seriously. Meanwhile, Robinson’s mother drew the memorable Strictly Business logo: an open briefcase, ready for business.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In 1988, Khayree released The Mac’s three-song EP, “\u003ca href=\"https://www.discogs.com/release/805531-The-Mac-Im-Ah-Big-Mac\">I’m Ah Big Mac\u003c/a>.” Heard now, what immediately stands out is the unique \u003cem>tone\u003c/em> of the bass. “We used synthesizers that had dumb-fat bass lines,” explains Khayree in reference to himself and Too Short as well as future Bay Area colleagues like Ant Banks. By comparison, he says, other regional scenes relied on a “natural” bass guitar or samples from records. “You feel it through your whole body. … You can get it with a bass guitar, depending on how you EQ the bass and what you run your guitar through. But you’re \u003cem>never\u003c/em> going to touch the subs and the depth of a Minimoog, of the Oberheim Ovx, or the Roland Juno 106.” The EP’s highlight is its B-side “The Game Is Thick,” which centers on a sample of Prince’s “D.M.S.R.” \u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13927371\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/TheMac.GameisThick-800x498.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"498\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13927371\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/TheMac.GameisThick-800x498.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/TheMac.GameisThick-1020x635.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/TheMac.GameisThick-160x100.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/TheMac.GameisThick-768x478.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/TheMac.GameisThick.jpg 1537w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Khayree and The Mac (L–R), pictured on the cover of The Mac’s ‘The Game is Thick.’ \u003ccite>(Phil Bray / Strictly Business Records)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>In 1989, Khayree remixed and re-released “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tCxGl7Ok1YI\">The Game Is Thick\u003c/a>” as a standalone 12” with a memorable cover photo: Khayree looking super-clean in a grey suit, clasping a briefcase, with The Mac in a red-and-black bomber jacket. Khayree calls the style “pimping.” “We didn’t mean pimping so much as getting prostitutes to work,” he explains. “It’s an attitude, and it’s a musical style.” The “game” is a metaphor for life in the Black community. Street slang illustrated complex situations, whether it was dealing with the repercussions of a raging crack epidemic, or simply navigating the tensions of everyday living. Meanwhile, The Mac’s “cool, silky, pimpish” flow and Khayree’s synthesized bass production proved a clear predecessor to the ’90s mob-music sound that took over Bay Area rap.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[aside postID='arts_13924167']Upon release, “The Game Is Thick” didn’t make a major impact, and most copies went to local DJ pools. “We promoted records out of the trunk,” says Khayree. “We went from Bobby G’s Soul Disco in San Francisco to [Rico Casanova’s record pool] The Pros in Oakland.” Still, “The Game Is Thick” remix received a mention in Davey “D” Cook’s April 7, 1989 “Beats & Breaks” column for \u003cem>BAM\u003c/em> Magazine. “Let me tell you, it’s hyped to the max,” Davey D wrote.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>With Khayree’s encouragement, the Mac taught himself how to produce music with synth keyboards. He also introduced Khayree to another Vallejo artist, Andre “Mac Dre” Hicks, who became Strictly Business’ second act. By the time The Mac was shot and killed on July 23, 1991 in what Khayree calls “a case of mistaken identity,” the two had recorded dozens of tracks and released a third and final 12” protesting police violence, 1990’s “Enuff of Tis Sh-t!” One of The Mac’s beats posthumously appeared on Mac Dre’s 1993 track, “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=slA_s7tSjMU\">The M.A.C. & Mac D.R.E.\u003c/a>”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13927413\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/Khayree.KoolMoeDee.72dpi-800x523.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"523\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13927413\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/Khayree.KoolMoeDee.72dpi-800x523.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/Khayree.KoolMoeDee.72dpi-1020x666.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/Khayree.KoolMoeDee.72dpi-160x105.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/Khayree.KoolMoeDee.72dpi-768x502.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/Khayree.KoolMoeDee.72dpi-1536x1003.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/Khayree.KoolMoeDee.72dpi.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Khayree with Kool Moe Dee at the 1988 BRE Conference in Los Angeles. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Khayree Shaheed)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>“Mike had a big, big loving heart,” remembers Khayree, sounding wistful. He emphasizes how The Mac left behind a daughter, “Mac” Reina Robinson, and a pregnant girlfriend who gave birth to his son, Mike. At one point, Khayree plays a voicemail of The Mac passionately singing a funky, swinging hook, as if to counteract the stereotype that rappers aren’t musicians. He talks about how The Mac’s way of playing simple, evocative keyboard notes for maximum effect echoes in the work of his famed protégé, Mac Dre. “I miss him,” he says.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad floatright]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Bay Area rap broke wide at the end of the decade, leading to a 1989 story in the \u003cem>New York Times\u003c/em>, “\u003ca href=\"https://www.nytimes.com/1989/09/10/arts/rap-by-the-bay-oakland-emerges-as-a-force-in-pop.html\">Rap by the Bay: Oakland Emerges as a Force in Pop\u003c/a>.” Not every local pioneer who laid the groundwork would enjoy the fruits of that success. But their stories are essential to understanding how local hip-hop came of age, and everything that came after.\u003c/p>\n\n",
"blocks": [],
"excerpt": "Casio keyboards, homemade tapes and the boundless creativity of Bay Area youth flourished in the 1980s hip-hop scene.",
"status": "publish",
"parent": 0,
"modified": 1754411768,
"stats": {
"hasAudio": false,
"hasVideo": true,
"hasChartOrMap": false,
"iframeSrcs": [],
"hasGoogleForm": false,
"hasGallery": false,
"hasHearkenModule": false,
"hasPolis": false,
"paragraphCount": 86,
"wordCount": 7705
},
"headData": {
"title": "Bay Area Hip-Hop in the 1980s: A Look Back | KQED",
"description": "Casio keyboards, homemade tapes and the boundless creativity of Bay Area youth flourished in the 1980s hip-hop scene.",
"ogTitle": "How Bay Area Hip-Hop Found Its Sound in the 1980s",
"ogDescription": "Casio keyboards, homemade tapes and the boundless creativity of Bay Area youth flourished in the 1980s hip-hop scene.",
"ogImgId": "arts_13927363",
"twTitle": "How Bay Area Hip-Hop Found Its Sound in the 1980s",
"twDescription": "Casio keyboards, homemade tapes and the boundless creativity of Bay Area youth flourished in the 1980s hip-hop scene.",
"twImgId": "arts_13927363",
"socialTitle": "Bay Area Hip-Hop in the 1980s: A Look Back %%page%% %%sep%% KQED",
"socialDescription": "Casio keyboards, homemade tapes and the boundless creativity of Bay Area youth flourished in the 1980s hip-hop scene.",
"schema": {
"@context": "https://schema.org",
"@type": "Article",
"headline": "How Bay Area Hip-Hop Found Its Sound in the 1980s",
"datePublished": "2023-04-05T12:27:37-07:00",
"dateModified": "2025-08-05T09:36:08-07:00",
"image": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/02/KQED-OG-Image@1x.png"
}
},
"primaryCategory": {
"termId": 1,
"slug": "arts",
"name": "Arts"
},
"source": "That's My Word",
"sourceUrl": "https://www.kqed.org/bayareahiphop",
"sticky": false,
"templateType": "standard",
"featuredImageType": "standard",
"excludeFromSiteSearch": "Include",
"articleAge": "0",
"path": "/arts/13927349/bay-area-hip-hop-1980s",
"audioTrackLength": null,
"parsedContent": [
{
"type": "contentString",
"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13927363\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/that_s_my_word_____featured_image__3_-800x450.png\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"450\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13927363\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/that_s_my_word_____featured_image__3_-800x450.png 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/that_s_my_word_____featured_image__3_-1020x574.png 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/that_s_my_word_____featured_image__3_-160x90.png 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/that_s_my_word_____featured_image__3_-768x432.png 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/that_s_my_word_____featured_image__3_-1536x864.png 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/that_s_my_word_____featured_image__3_.png 1920w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">In the mid-1980s, after years of street dance, DJing and graffiti sharing equal space, rapping took center stage. The Bay Area’s bass-heavy sound would arrive at the end of the decade. (Clockwise from top left: Too Short, MC Hammer, Dominique DiPrima, Club Nouveau, and Motorcycle Mike.) \u003ccite>(Steve Ringman/San Francisco Chronicle via Getty Images; Al Pereira/Michael Ochs Archives/Getty Images; SFSU Television Archives; Raymond Boyd/Getty Images; Hodisk Records)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>\u003cstrong>Editor’s note\u003c/strong>: This story is part of \u003c/em>\u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/bayareahiphop\">That’s My Word\u003c/a>\u003cem>, KQED’s year-long exploration of \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/bayareahiphop\">Bay Area hip-hop\u003c/a> history, with new content dropping all throughout 2023.\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 4.6875em;float: left;line-height: 0.733em;padding: 0.05em 0.1em 0 0;font-family: times, serif, georgia\">I\u003c/span>t’s a wintry January evening when Bas-1 brings me to Del the Funky Homosapien’s house in the East Bay. For much of the afternoon, Bas — the \u003ca href=\"https://eastbayexpress.com/old-school-fool-1/\">Oakland native\u003c/a> who’s worked with Digital Underground and released \u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/results?search_query=bas-1+full+album+mentally+astute\">his own solo records\u003c/a> — has schooled me on the origins of the Bay Area hip-hop sound.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Bas lists numerous rappers from the ’80s, and not just Todd “Too Short” Shaw, the East Oakland rapper who famously hustled homemade cassette tapes. I’ve never heard most of the names Bas mentions: MC Chocolate Milk, Windell Baby Doll, Davy Def, Buddy Bean, Reggie Reg Rock Ski.ter, M.C. Tracy, Rock Master Fresh, Nic Nack, Kimmie Fresh, and the Acorn Crew with Grandmaster Fresh (a rapper later known as “DJ Daryl” Anderson, famed for producing tracks like 415’s “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yuZ6CAwZmys\">Side Show\u003c/a>” and 2Pac’s “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fAJfDP3b5_U\">Keep Ya Head Up\u003c/a>”).\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
"attributes": {
"named": {},
"numeric": []
}
},
{
"type": "component",
"content": "",
"name": "aside",
"attributes": {
"named": {
"postid": "arts_13924126",
"label": ""
},
"numeric": []
}
},
{
"type": "contentString",
"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>Many of these early Bay Area rappers never put out a commercially available record. Instead, their work is mostly confined to locally distributed cassette tapes — collectors call them “gray tapes” — that are now nearly impossible to find. They publicly broadcasted these tapes throughout neighborhoods, utilizing boomboxes and car stereos as well as stereos at house parties. “None of them sound like Too Short,” says Bas. “Some of these people didn’t put out recordings, but they were known.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Throughout the 1980s, Bay Area hip-hop was an artistic movement struggling for a distinct identity. The first half of the decade was defined by street dance and aerosol art as much as rap and DJing. But as local youth began to absorb the sounds emanating from national hotspots like New York, they created a distinctive style all their own — one that would make a global impact in the years to come.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
"attributes": {
"named": {},
"numeric": []
}
},
{
"type": "component",
"content": "",
"name": "ad",
"attributes": {
"named": {
"label": "fullwidth"
},
"numeric": [
"fullwidth"
]
}
},
{
"type": "contentString",
"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>At Del’s house, Bas queues up an extraordinary live video clip of \u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5u3eiG9BtdE\">Mac Mill, Emperor E, and DJ Anthony “K-os” Bryant\u003c/a> performing at \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/news/11690787/when-oakland-was-a-chocolate-city-a-brief-history-of-festival-at-the-lake\">Festival at the Lake\u003c/a>, a now-defunct annual event held at Lake Merritt, in 1988. (Alex “Naru” Reece, who organized the showcase where Mac Mill performed, clarified in a follow-up conversation that it didn’t happen during Festival at the Lake. He also says the showcase was filmed in 1986 for a 1988 video compilation.)\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Mac Mill and Emperor E go back and forth, trading sound effects and dense Oakland slang as K-os cuts and scratches copies of Long Island band Original Concept’s deathless bass classic, “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ai4VC0NUxl4\">Knowledge Me\u003c/a>.” Bas praises Mac Mill’s unusual “Arabian” style, which the latter deployed nearly a decade later with the 1995 single “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5_f0TB3Igro\">Arabian Hump\u003c/a>.”\u003c/p>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003cspan class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__embedYoutube'>\n \u003cspan class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__embedYoutubeInside'>\n \u003ciframe\n loading='lazy'\n class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__youtubePlayer'\n type='text/html'\n src='//www.youtube.com/embed/5u3eiG9BtdE'\n title='//www.youtube.com/embed/5u3eiG9BtdE'\n allowfullscreen='true'\n style='border:0;'>\u003c/iframe>\n \u003c/span>\n \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003cp>Then, Bas-1 calls Chris “CJ Flash” Jourdan, an OG who worked with Timex Social Club, the Berkeley teen band whose 1986 electro-funk classic, “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jVce2IeYcTg\">Rumors\u003c/a>,” represented the first national breakthrough for Bay Area hip-hop culture. As Bas broadcasts CJ Flash’s voice from his phone through Del’s stereo equipment, CJ Flash spends the next hour or so describing a fledging scene where poppers and boogaloo dancers, not rappers or DJs, were the prime attractions. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>These ensembles drew from a street-dance tradition that \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13891300/reclaiming-the-legacy-of-oaklands-boogaloo-dance-culture\">dates back decades\u003c/a>. Their kinetic performances ignited crowds at high schools, house parties, and public spaces like Justin Herman Plaza and Union Square in San Francisco and UC Berkeley’s Sproul Plaza. Battles even took place on the street, with crews traveling to different neighborhoods around the region to seek out rivals. “You could meet with people on their turf and get down, and hopefully not get thumped in the process,” says CJ Flash. Many Bay Area hip-hop pioneers got their start in dance crews, including Club Nouveau’s Jay King (who pop-locked with The Unknowns), DJ King Tech (who was known as Wizard, and danced with Master City Breakers), and Flash himself (who \u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ub1TtnI4dh8\">performed with UFO\u003c/a>).\u003c/p>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003cspan class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__embedYoutube'>\n \u003cspan class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__embedYoutubeInside'>\n \u003ciframe\n loading='lazy'\n class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__youtubePlayer'\n type='text/html'\n src='//www.youtube.com/embed/ub1TtnI4dh8'\n title='//www.youtube.com/embed/ub1TtnI4dh8'\n allowfullscreen='true'\n style='border:0;'>\u003c/iframe>\n \u003c/span>\n \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003cp>By contrast, rapping was a relatively new and undeveloped skill, the lowest element on the hip-hop totem pole. “Anybody could rap. Anybody could say a bunch of basic rhyme words with no style and flavor,” says Bas, noting as an aside that “most folks couldn’t understand the lyrics anyway.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>How is a discussion about street dancers connected to an exploration of the Bay Area hip-hop sound? It’s important to understand the conditions under which the genre emerged locally.\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>Turntables, Casios and Homemade Tapes\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>As KQED’s Eric Arnold explains in “\u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13924126/the-bay-area-was-hip-hop-before-there-was-hip-hop\">The Bay Area Was Hip-Hop Before There Was Hip-Hop\u003c/a>,” foundational elements such as spoken word, funk, and rhythm & blues existed locally well before New Jersey trio Sugarhill Gang arrived with “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rKTUAESacQM\">Rapper’s Delight\u003c/a>” in the fall of 1979.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
"attributes": {
"named": {},
"numeric": []
}
},
{
"type": "component",
"content": "",
"name": "aside",
"attributes": {
"named": {
"postid": "arts_13923978",
"label": ""
},
"numeric": []
}
},
{
"type": "contentString",
"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>At the same time, the Bay Area was not the Bronx, where breakbeat culture catalyzed and fermented. Bronx DJs, MCs and B-boys like Kool Herc, Grandmaster Flash, Afrika Bambaataa, Grandmaster Caz, the Rock Steady Crew and many others gained renown among mid-’70s New York youth long before “Rapper’s Delight.” By contrast, as CJ Flash explains, it took much of the 1980s for Bay Area youth to develop the cadences and rhythms we now associate with modern rap.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Back then, enterprising musicians couldn’t purchase studio software and distribute their own music on an internet platform like Soundcloud. Recording equipment was expensive. An unsigned artist needed the financial and business expertise to manufacture vinyl and cassettes with artwork, much less convince record stores like Leopold’s Records in Berkeley to carry them. (Recordable CD-Rs weren’t widely used until the 1990s.)\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>This helps explain why so many rappers utilized turntables and Casio keyboards, and then recorded their songs using the microphone input on relatively cheap stereo equipment. Captured on recordable cassettes like Maxell and TDK, some of these “gray tapes” simply had stickers with handwritten titles. More often, they weren’t labeled at all.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13927410\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/Naru.BoxofTapes.CloseUp-800x600.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"600\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13927410\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/Naru.BoxofTapes.CloseUp-800x600.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/Naru.BoxofTapes.CloseUp-1020x765.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/Naru.BoxofTapes.CloseUp-160x120.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/Naru.BoxofTapes.CloseUp-768x576.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/Naru.BoxofTapes.CloseUp-1536x1152.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/Naru.BoxofTapes.CloseUp.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">A box of handmade Bay Area rap tapes, part of Naru’s home archives. \u003ccite>(Mosi Reeves)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>In those days, Too Short was an outlier, a Fremont High School student who canvassed East Oakland spots like Arroyo Park, \u003ca href=\"https://medium.com/@bayareahiphoparchive/in-conversation-with-56fae687e9c\">selling copies of “Game Raps”\u003c/a> at a few dollars a pop. Since Short was originally from Los Angeles, he relied on rap partner Tony “Freddy B” Adams to show him around the Town. The duo \u003ca href=\"http://www.kqed.org/bayareahiphop/timeline#too-short-and-freddy-b-start-making-handmade-tapes\">made customized tapes for local drug dealers and players\u003c/a> in the city’s nightlife — now known as “special request” tapes — shouting out the customers’ names in their raps.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“Short was a hustler,” says CJ Flash. “He had a style of telling stories that was so outlandish and so funny that word got around.” Short and Freddy B developed the trademark “Biiiiitch!” catchphrase, and Short has often said that he and Freddy B intended to get famous together. Unfortunately, Freddy B was in prison when Short released his landmark “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YwVJTvOO4yY\">Freaky Tales\u003c/a>” tape in 1987. (Adams is \u003ca href=\"https://www.dailyrepublic.com/all-dr-news/solano-news/local-features/from-too-hort-colleague-to-christian-missionary/\">now a minister\u003c/a> at Mount Calvary Baptist Church in Fairfield.)\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13927341\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 676px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/TooShort.SFExaminer.1984.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"676\" height=\"455\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13927341\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/TooShort.SFExaminer.1984.jpg 676w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/TooShort.SFExaminer.1984-160x108.jpg 160w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 676px) 100vw, 676px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Too Short in 1984, at the age of 18. \u003ccite>(Katy Raddatz/San Francisco Examiner/Bancroft Library)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Others like Sir Quick Draw, Mac Mill, and Chief Naked Head (later known as Premo; he passed away in January of 2023) simply gave away their tapes or let friends copy or “dub” the originals. As Richmond rapper \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13925761/magic-mike-richmond-calvin-t-rap-hip-hop\">Magic Mike explained in a recent interview with Dregs One\u003c/a>, dubs of his tracks circulated as widely as Germany. “It was more or less trying to make a name for yourself…you had to make a tape,” adds CJ Flash.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Most importantly, Bay Area hip-hop in the ’80s was a primordial soup of youngsters figuring out what the local sound would be. The answers wouldn’t arrive until near the end of the decade. “The Bay Area was behind,” says CJ Flash, comparing it to more advanced regions like Los Angeles, South Florida, and New York. “We never thought about radio.”\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>‘A Pivotal Moment’\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>Alex “Naru Kwina” Hence remembers the first time he heard the Sugarhill Gang’s “Rapper’s Delight” as a 14-year-old preparing to attend Oakland High School. “When the song went off, everybody ran outside, like, ‘Did you hear that song?!” he laughs, calling it one of the best moments of his life. “It was a pivotal moment, bro. We literally started rapping the song and trying to remember it.” \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Naru called himself Sir Quick Draw, an alias inspired by Hanna-Barbera cartoon \u003cem>Quick Draw McGraw\u003c/em> as well as the fact that, as a runner, “I was hella fast.” He took inspiration from Kurtis Blow, the Harlem rapper who scored major hits like 1980’s “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qzl-2g5HhaI\">The Breaks\u003c/a>.” And Naru almost immediately began recording his voice on tape. His first original song was “The Caveman Rap,” which was inspired by Brooklyn rapper Jimmy Spicer’s 1980 single “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nkGLco0tGqc\">Adventures of Super Rhyme\u003c/a>.” Naru can still recite those verses from memory: \u003cem>Now people come and take a trip in time with me / Back to that sweet year one million B.C.\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“I still got that old-school flavor, man,” he admits. “Hip-hop was more fun for me back then.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13927368\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 600px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/Naru.Boxes_.1.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"600\" height=\"840\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13927368\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/Naru.Boxes_.1.jpg 600w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/Naru.Boxes_.1-160x224.jpg 160w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 600px) 100vw, 600px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Naru Kwina, who recorded under the names Sir Quick Draw and Em Cee Quick, poses with his home archives. \u003ccite>(Mosi Reeves)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>But rap in the Bay Area didn’t take off right away. “Most people would rap other people’s songs. They’d just repeat what they heard on the radio,” says Naru. Aspiring MCs honed their craft by congregating at Eastmont Mall, “trying to impress the girls, and getting our names on our derby jackets.” And when Tom Tom Club’s 1981 hit “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ECiMhe4E0pI\">Genius of Love\u003c/a>” dropped? “Everybody rapped over that joint, man. Too many people.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>It’s worth remembering that hip-hop was a phenomenon developed essentially by Black and Brown children. Rapping, pop-locking, spray-painting aerosol art on neighborhood walls, even DJing: These were youthful forms of play and creative expression.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Bas, who grew up in North Oakland, remembers \u003ca href=\"http://www.kqed.org/bayareahiphop/timeline#at-fishermans-wharf-a-street-dance-destination-emerges\">popping and “roboting” at Pier 39 on Fisherman’s Wharf\u003c/a> in the late ’70s as a child. “You have people like Ben [James] from Live Incorporated doing pantomime and roboting,” he says, noting one of the better-known dance crews. Dancers competed for attention and tips that they could spend on Snickers bars and arcade games. “Battle-wise, you had to have skill and talent to a certain caliber in order to truly be out on the Wharf or on Market [and Powell] in front of the cable cars,” he says.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13927321\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/GettyImages-1298788791-800x547.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"547\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13927321\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/GettyImages-1298788791-800x547.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/GettyImages-1298788791-1020x697.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/GettyImages-1298788791-160x109.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/GettyImages-1298788791-768x525.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/GettyImages-1298788791.jpg 1024w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">A street dance crew called The Vita Family perform at Pier 39 in 1986. \u003ccite>(Liz Hafalia/San Francisco Chronicle via Getty Images)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Local newspaper stories focused on the emergence of hip-hop as a youth obsession. Enterprising teachers incorporated it into their lesson plans. On high-school campuses, fledgling DJs like Joseph Thomas “G.I. Joe” Simms Jr. at El Cerrito High School and groups like the Devastating Four proliferated. At house parties, mobile DJ crews spun the latest electro, boogie-funk, and rap hits.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Gatherings at schools, churches, and community centers typically reserved a few minutes for fledgling local rap and dance crews to perform. This was also the era of \u003ca href=\"http://www.kqed.org/bayareahiphop/timeline#nancy-reagan-visits-oakland-and-coins-the-phrase-just-say-no\">the Reagan Administration’s “Just Say No” campaign\u003c/a>, and kids were often asked to help spread an anti-drug message through raps. “Inspired by rapping groups such as Sugar Hill, Run DMC, Jeckyl and Hyde and Mell (sic) and the Furious Five, teen-agers create their own raps mostly for fun and to bring attention to themselves,” read a June 29, 1985, story in the \u003cem>San Francisco Examiner\u003c/em>. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
"attributes": {
"named": {},
"numeric": []
}
},
{
"type": "component",
"content": "",
"name": "aside",
"attributes": {
"named": {
"postid": "arts_13925415",
"label": ""
},
"numeric": []
}
},
{
"type": "contentString",
"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>In the first half of the decade, street dance remained a focal point. \u003ca href=\"https://www.npr.org/2022/12/04/1140504217/double-dutch-fantastic-four-holiday-classic\">Double Dutch jump-rope competitions\u003c/a> sponsored by McDonald’s drew thousands to Lincoln Square Center in Oakland. The San Francisco Street Breakers held a fundraising benefit, “Super Break Sunday,” at San Francisco’s Palace of Fine Arts in 1985. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Ironically, street dance “got played out” after the success of Hollywood movies like \u003cem>Beat Street\u003c/em> and \u003cem>Breakin’\u003c/em>, and rap music moved to the center of hip-hop culture. Quickening the process were concerts by Black music stars like the \u003ca href=\"http://www.kqed.org/bayareahiphop/timeline#the-fresh-fest-comes-to-oakland\">Fresh Festival\u003c/a>, the first national hip-hop tour, with headliners Run-DMC at the Oakland Coliseum. Local radio tentatively began to experiment with rap, notably KMEL-FM and its mix DJs such as Michael Erickson and \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13828163/watch-cameron-paul-give-a-masterclass-in-early-djing\">the late Cameron Paul\u003c/a>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13927323\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 640px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/FreshFest.Flyer_-1020x1517.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"640\" height=\"952\" class=\"size-large wp-image-13927323\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/FreshFest.Flyer_-1020x1517.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/FreshFest.Flyer_-800x1190.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/FreshFest.Flyer_-160x238.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/FreshFest.Flyer_-768x1142.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/FreshFest.Flyer_-1033x1536.jpg 1033w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/FreshFest.Flyer_.jpg 1345w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 640px) 100vw, 640px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">A flyer for the Fresh Festival, which arrived in Oakland in 1984.\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>“By 1985, there was this incredible scene in the South Bay,” says Adisa “The Bishop” Banjoko. As a teen DJ in San Bruno “who looked like Urkel,” he remembers traveling far and wide to buy records, from Creative Music Emporium in San Francisco to T’s Wauzi in Oakland. Meanwhile, nightclubs like Mothers and Studio 47 brought a fusion of hip-hop, freestyle and techno. “San Jose had underage hip-hop teenage clubs, and no other city had those,” he says. (Banjoko later became a rapper, a journalist, and now promotes jiu-jitsu, meditation and chess with his company \u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/real64blocks/?hl=en\">64 Blocks\u003c/a>.)\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Back in Oakland, Naru continued making tapes. “I come from a musical family. My cousin’s the Maestro” — a.k.a. producer Keenan Foster, who has worked with Too Short, Dru Down, and Askari X — “and a lot of my family sings. I got a drum machine, a little Yamaha keyboard. I would play my bass lines. We had double-cassette decks.” He collaborated with Taj “Turntable T” Tilghman, “who was dope on the turntables.” Turntable T eventually bought a Roland TR-808 drum machine, the instrument du jour for def beat MCs. “When that 808 came, that was it. Everyone loved that deck. \u003cem>Boom!\u003c/em>”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“Gray tapes” that circulated weren’t the EP and album-length releases we’re familiar with today. Some tapes only had one song per side; or maybe just one song on one side, period. Artists were judged not only by their ability to rap engagingly for several minutes, but also to chop up a familiar beat like Whodini’s “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o5r0i2ZAbCc\">Friends\u003c/a>,” transforming it into something fresh and original; or even make rudimentary 808 beats. For example, Too Short drew attention for “rapping the longest,” as Bas explains, leading to songs that lasted eight or nine minutes.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13927334\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/Adisa.portrait-800x682.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"682\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13927334\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/Adisa.portrait-800x682.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/Adisa.portrait-1020x870.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/Adisa.portrait-160x136.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/Adisa.portrait-768x655.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/Adisa.portrait.jpg 1200w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Adisa Banjoko in the 1980s. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Adisa Banjoko)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>“Those tapes were everywhere. Everyone was trying to see what was possible,” says Banjoko. In 1987, he began making raps under the name MC Most Ill. His first song was “Rhyme Junkie.” “The truth was, some of it was really cool but a lot of it actually also sucked, because [the art form] was brand new. … The quality control was not there.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>On August 18, 1984, the \u003cem>San Francisco Examiner\u003c/em> published an article called “Rapping with Too-Short,” the first story on the 18-year-old prodigy. Pacific News Service journalist Anthony Adams called Short’s songs “preacher-like yarns over pre-recorded music,” and noted that one of them was about automaker John DeLorean, whose conviction for cocaine trafficking made national news. Short claimed he and his partner Freddy B sold over 2,000 tapes. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The \u003cem>Chronicle-Examiner\u003c/em> also frequently interviewed \u003ca href=\"https://www.dominiquediprima.com/\">Dominique “Lady D” DiPrima\u003c/a>, a New York transplant and San Francisco State University student who rapped, sung, and organized events. DiPrima possessed a rich family pedigree — her father was the jazz writer Amiri Baraka, her mother the beat poet Diane DiPrima. In late 1984, \u003ca href=\"http://www.kqed.org/bayareahiphop/timeline#home-turf-premieres-on-kron-tv\">KRON-TV recruited her to host \u003cem>Home Turf\u003c/em>\u003c/a>, a Saturday-afternoon program that became appointment viewing for local teens.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“Everyone had a crush on Dominique,” says Naru, giggling.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13927320\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/DominiqueDiprima.HomeTurf.SFSU_-800x541.png\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"541\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13927320\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/DominiqueDiprima.HomeTurf.SFSU_-800x541.png 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/DominiqueDiprima.HomeTurf.SFSU_-1020x690.png 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/DominiqueDiprima.HomeTurf.SFSU_-160x108.png 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/DominiqueDiprima.HomeTurf.SFSU_-768x520.png 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/DominiqueDiprima.HomeTurf.SFSU_-1536x1039.png 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/DominiqueDiprima.HomeTurf.SFSU_.png 1540w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Dominique DiPrima, pictured here hosting a 1987 episode of ‘Home Turf’ on KRON-4. \u003ccite>(SFSU Television Archive)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003ch2>The First Bay Area Rap Record Opens the Floodgates\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>One of the under-acknowledged aspects of early hip-hop is the way elder Black musicians shepherded young artists into the recording industry.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The late Sylvia Robinson, who was inducted into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame in 2022, initially emerged in the mid-’50s as one-half of Mickey & Sylvia, who scored a national hit with “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5SwMB9v1pQ4\">Love Is Strange\u003c/a>.” As a ’70s solo artist and producer, Robinson made slinky, Eartha Kitt-like erotic disco capers such as “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NA2X1040_gY\">Pillow Talk\u003c/a>” and “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EPScEJ66_m4\">Sweet Stuff\u003c/a>.” After discovering hip-hop when she heard DJ Lovebug Starski at a party, Robinson formed Sugar Hill Records, and turned three rapping teens she found in New Jersey into its first act, the Sugarhill Gang.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>This process of soul veterans working with young people resulted in independent 12” singles that mirrored — if not yet accurately capturing — the nascent rap sound at a time when big companies virtually ignored it. With his Mercury Records contract, Kurtis Blow was the only act with a major album deal. A handful of other pioneers like DJ Hollywood scored one-off 12” deals.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>A similar process played out in the Bay Area.\u003c/p>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003cspan class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__embedYoutube'>\n \u003cspan class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__embedYoutubeInside'>\n \u003ciframe\n loading='lazy'\n class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__youtubePlayer'\n type='text/html'\n src='//www.youtube.com/embed/2R_h9BCuvBE'\n title='//www.youtube.com/embed/2R_h9BCuvBE'\n allowfullscreen='true'\n style='border:0;'>\u003c/iframe>\n \u003c/span>\n \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003cp>The first Bay Area rap record is widely considered to be Phil “Motorcycle Mike” Lewis and the Rat Trap Band’s “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p4Odk2Vu70s\">Super Rat\u003c/a>,” a 1981 boogie-funk single notoriously released by East Oakland heroin kingpin Milton “Mickey Mo” Moore’s Hodisk Records. The name “Hodisk” was a cheeky reference to his onetime side business as a pimp. (Moore has since reformed and is now a pastor in West Oakland.) In fact, Mickey Mo boasts in his 1996 autobiography \u003cem>\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9qy6RNV6f5w\">The Man: The Life Story of a Drug Kingpin\u003c/a>\u003c/em>, “Hodisk Records became the first record company on the West Coast to release a rap record.” (The first L.A. rap record, Disco Daddy and Captain Rapp’s “The Gigolo Rapp,” was also released in 1981.)\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Mickey Mo has another claim to rap lore: In 1980, he \u003ca href=\"http://www.kqed.org/bayareahiphop/timeline#the-first-rap-performance-on-a-major-stage\">helped finance an Oakland Coliseum concert\u003c/a> headlined by L.A. funk band War, with the Sugarhill Gang as a supporting act. Journalist Lee Hildebrand’s pre-concert interview with the Gang in the \u003cem>Oakland Tribune\u003c/em> was the first mention of rap music in the local press. A second funk-rap novelty, Steve Walker’s “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vB9jCLUWwBY\">Tally Ho!\u003c/a>,” also appeared in 1981. In 1983, San Francisco’s Debo & Brian released the electro-funk EP \u003cem>\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vgv_AfTbEng\">This Is It\u003c/a>\u003c/em>. The momentum had started.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“I had made this vow that I would never ever do anything having to do with rap,” laughs Claytoven Richardson. During his long career, the Berkeley-born, Oakland-raised Richardson worked with Aretha Franklin, Kenny G, Whitney Houston, Elton John, and Celine Dion. But in the early ’80s, he was best known as a singer, producer, and arranger with hot dancefloor jazz-funk bands like Bill Summers & Summers’ Heat. His anti-rap stance reflected the music industry at large in the 1980s. “Nobody had the foresight to see that it would morph and change and do the things that it’s done,” he says.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13927369\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 625px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/ClaytovenRichardson.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"625\" height=\"352\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13927369\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/ClaytovenRichardson.jpg 625w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/ClaytovenRichardson-160x90.jpg 160w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 625px) 100vw, 625px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Claytoven Richardson pictured in March 2023 in Los Angeles, California. \u003ccite>(Steven Simione/Getty Images)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Still, Richardson couldn’t avoid the increasingly popular genre when he scored a production deal at Fantasy Records, the onetime Berkeley jazz label also known for innovative acts like Sylvester and Cybotron, as well as one-off singles generated by a “throw it against the wall and see if it sticks” philosophy. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>One of the records Richardson produced in that anything-goes environment was Mighty Mouth’s satirical complaint, “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VU1hAFnrtU8\">I’m All Rapped Out\u003c/a>.” (He wasn’t the only one annoyed over rap; perhaps out of wishful thinking, a 1985 \u003cem>San Francisco Chronicle\u003c/em> article referred to the “fast-fading hip-hop scene.”) A vocalist named Lawrence Pittman didn’t show up for the session, so Richardson performed the lyrics himself. However, Pittman showed up to rap on Mighty Mouth’s second single, “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IqfQcLbemE4\">The Roaches\u003c/a>,” which parodied Whodini’s electro hit, “Freaks Come Out at Night.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Other scattered local raps appeared between 1985 and 1986. Former boogaloo dancer Jay King, just home from a stint in the Air Force and splitting time between Sacramento and Vallejo, formed a group called Frost and released “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hObIekxeoSg\">Battle Beat\u003c/a>.” His friends Denzil Foster & Thomas McElroy produced it, as well as another electro-rap track, Sorcerey’s “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6ap6uw-kX8o\">Woo Baby\u003c/a>.” Pittsburg rapper James “Red Beat” Briggs issued “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a7dUlMEZUSc\">Freak City\u003c/a>,” which was later remixed by N.W.A. co-founder Arabian Prince. And there was Rodney “Disco Alamo” Brown, from Richmond, whose 12” “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6K-pXg1DY98\">The Task Force\u003c/a>” is \u003ca href=\"http://www.kqed.org/bayareahiphop/timeline#richmonds-task-force-memorialized-on-wax\">an early example\u003c/a> of Bay Area rap chronicling street life.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13927313\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/GettyImages-1206295164-800x484.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"484\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13927313\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/GettyImages-1206295164-800x484.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/GettyImages-1206295164-1020x618.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/GettyImages-1206295164-160x97.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/GettyImages-1206295164-768x465.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/GettyImages-1206295164.jpg 1024w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Too Short, pictured at his manager’s house in Oakland on September 21, 1987. \u003ccite>(Steve Ringman/San Francisco Chronicle via Getty Images)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Most importantly, Too Short’s rising buzz led to a deal with deep East Oakland entrepreneur Dean Hodges’ 75 Girls label. Released in 1985, the resulting \u003cem>Don’t Stop Rappin’\u003c/em> was the first official album by a local rapper. While fans of a certain age still treasure protean electro-funk tracks like “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L2ywke376NQ\">Girl\u003c/a>” — which E-40 referenced on his 1998 hit, “Earl, That’s Yo Life” — the album couldn’t compare to his raunchy and wickedly hilarious “special request” tapes.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>It was during this period that Naru finally got his chance in the studio. Since 1984, UC Berkeley station \u003ca href=\"http://www.kqed.org/bayareahiphop/timeline#college-radio-makes-its-mark\">KALX-FM\u003c/a> served as home to “Music for the People,” a Sunday-morning community affairs and music show hosted by the late Charles “Natty Prep” Douglass, as well as DJs like Billy “Jam” Kiernan (who also broadcast on San Francisco State University station KUSF-FM), David “Davey D” Cook, and funkster Rickey “The Uhuru Maggot” Vincent. When Naru won \u003ca href=\"https://wfmu.org/playlists/shows/107287\">a 1986 rap contest hosted by Billy Jam on KALX\u003c/a>, he earned a deal with Bay Wave Records, a local imprint distributed by Hollywood-based Macola Records. Richardson was hired to produce the session.\u003c/p>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003cspan class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__embedYoutube'>\n \u003cspan class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__embedYoutubeInside'>\n \u003ciframe\n loading='lazy'\n class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__youtubePlayer'\n type='text/html'\n src='//www.youtube.com/embed/dLlNn1Zh1ww'\n title='//www.youtube.com/embed/dLlNn1Zh1ww'\n allowfullscreen='true'\n style='border:0;'>\u003c/iframe>\n \u003c/span>\n \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003cp>“[Quick Draw] was a great rapper. He had a lot of great lyrics and ideas,” says Richardson. On “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dLlNn1Zh1ww\">Rapaholic\u003c/a>,” Richardson and session engineer Michael Denten (who later worked with Spice 1 and E-40) accompanied Quick Draw’s dexterous and energetic raps with sharp-angled percussive edits and sound effects reminiscent of The Art of Noise and Mantronix.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“Respect to Claytoven,” says Naru, who not only continues to make music but also owns a company, \u003ca href=\"http://hiplearning.org/\">Hip Learning\u003c/a>, that promotes childhood education with rap. He wasn’t entirely satisfied with the “Rapaholic” experience: “They made the record sound hella more polished. It was [supposed to be] a little more underground than that.” However, he adds, “[Claytoven] taught us a lot in the studio about the mics they use and how to mix. It was a good experience.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13927411\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 600px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/SirQuickdrawFlyer.72dpi.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"600\" height=\"889\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13927411\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/SirQuickdrawFlyer.72dpi.jpg 600w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/SirQuickdrawFlyer.72dpi-160x237.jpg 160w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 600px) 100vw, 600px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">A photocopied flyer advertising Sir Quick Draw’s single ‘Rapaholic.’ \u003ccite>(Mosi Reeves)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003ch2>A Radio Breakthrough — And a Kid Named Hammer\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>As the trajectory of Bay Area hip-hop waxed and waned, three catalyzing moments brought the scene into focus.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The first was an R&B track. Timex Social Club’s “Rumors” captured the pulse of Bay Area youth culture, from Marcus Thompson and Alex Hill’s skittering electro-funk bass and drums to singer Michael Marshall’s distinctly regional accent and coy recitation of schoolyard gossip (“Did you hear the one about Michael? Some say he must be gay…”) Produced by Jay King and Denzil Foster and released on King’s Jay Records in February 1986, it mushroomed into a top ten \u003cem>Billboard\u003c/em> pop hit and dominated radio all year.\u003c/p>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003cspan class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__embedYoutube'>\n \u003cspan class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__embedYoutubeInside'>\n \u003ciframe\n loading='lazy'\n class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__youtubePlayer'\n type='text/html'\n src='//www.youtube.com/embed/jVce2IeYcTg'\n title='//www.youtube.com/embed/jVce2IeYcTg'\n allowfullscreen='true'\n style='border:0;'>\u003c/iframe>\n \u003c/span>\n \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003cp>But by the summer, Timex Social Club was falling apart and trading accusations with King over money and credit. The group’s only album \u003cem>Vicious Rumors\u003c/em> — by that point it was just Michael Marshall — featured drum programming from CJ Flash and a shout-out to KALX’s Natty Prep, who helped break “Rumors” on his “Music and Life” show. Marshall retreated from the spotlight before \u003ca href=\"http://www.kqed.org/bayareahiphop/timeline#i-got-5-on-it-remix-a-meeting-of-greats-recorded-in-alameda\">re-emerging as the hook man\u003c/a> on the Luniz’ 1995 smash “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ERtkpnXLrL4\">I Got 5 on It\u003c/a>.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>After breaking with Timex Social Club, King formed a group called Jet Set and signed a deal with Warner Bros. Records. The group changed their name to Club Nouveau before debuting with the single “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lKWhkjXV5uM\">Jealousy\u003c/a>.” A follow-up, the Bill Withers cover “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kbyjaUJWWmk\">Lean on Me\u003c/a>,” went to number-one on the \u003cem>Billboard\u003c/em> Hot 100, while Club Nouveau’s debut album \u003cem>Life, Love & Pain\u003c/em> went platinum.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13927310\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/GettyImages-1346275851-800x489.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"489\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13927310\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/GettyImages-1346275851-800x489.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/GettyImages-1346275851-1020x624.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/GettyImages-1346275851-160x98.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/GettyImages-1346275851-768x470.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/GettyImages-1346275851.jpg 1024w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Singers Samuelle Prater, Jay King and Valerie Watson of Club Nouveau performs at the U.I.C. Pavilion in Chicago, Illinois in August 1987. \u003ccite>(Raymond Boyd/Getty Images)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>King’s growing stardom rippled across the Bay and reached Felton Pilate, the Vallejo keyboardist, singer, and producer best known as a driving force in Bay Area funk stars Con Funk Shun. The two had already worked together on King’s onetime rap group Frost; Pilate engineered that record. Pilate soon added one of King’s projects, Sacramento R&B/rap group New Choice, to a growing slate of projects he produced and engineered at his Felstar Studios.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Felstar Studios was the culmination of work he had begun while not touring and rehearsing with Con Funk Shun. At his home studio on Sandpiper Drive in Vallejo, Pilate helped assemble records for fledgling local artists. “I never thought of myself as just a studio,” he says, where he simply records his clients. “I have a little experience here. I’ve got several gold albums. Here, let me pass on some of this knowledge.” When asked if he considered himself a mentor, he demurs, even though that’s arguably what he was. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>When Pilate opened Felstar Studios on Sonoma Boulevard, his trusted associate was James Earley, a young engineer whom he credits for adding a more contemporary sensibility to the Studios’ output. Among the locals who came to them were M.V.P., a family trio consisting of Earl Stevens, Danell Stevens, and Brandt Jones. Their 1988 12”, \u003cem>\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sfLuAL6DueI\">The Kings Men\u003c/a>\u003c/em>, also included Tanina Stevens and Angela Pressley, who called themselves Sugar ‘N’ Spice. The members of M.V.P. updated their stage names to E-40, D-Shot and B-Legit, added Tanina as Suga T, and \u003ca href=\"http://www.kqed.org/bayareahiphop/timeline#the-clicks-down-dirty-ushers-in-mobb-music-era\">evolved into The Click\u003c/a>, arguably becoming the most famous rap group to emerge from Vallejo.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13927370\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 700px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/MVP.e-40.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"700\" height=\"700\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13927370\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/MVP.e-40.jpg 700w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/MVP.e-40-160x160.jpg 160w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 700px) 100vw, 700px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">M.V.P., a 1988 Vallejo rap group featuring Busy D, E-40 and Legit (L–R). The three would later add E-40’s sister Suga T and become known as The Click. \u003ccite>(Gerry Ericksen / Rushforce Records)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>In 1986, Pilate and Earley both had solo deals at Berkeley’s Fantasy Records. It was there that Pilate met a former Oakland A’s batboy named Stanley “Holyghost Boy” Burrell through Fantasy Records producer Fred L. Pittman. “Fred would often hire me to do keyboard arrangements for him,” says Pilate. When Pittman asked him to play keys for Holyghost Boy, Pilate responded, “Hey Fred, why don’t you let me take the reins on this?”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>As a classically trained jazz and classical musician, Pilate didn’t think much of rap, even though Con Funk Shun not only included a rap verse on a 1982 single, “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GQ9GHVTI-EE\">Ain’t Nobody Baby\u003c/a>”; but also made “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kmmzvN7raB0\">Electric Lady\u003c/a>,” a 1985 hit produced by Larry Smith of Whodini fame that landed in the top five of \u003cem>Billboard\u003c/em>’s Black Singles chart. “Musically, I wasn’t a fan, but as a producer, I said, ‘I can do this,’” he says. “Like everyone else, Con Funk Shun wanted to be relevant, and rap was all over the radio.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The tracks Burrell brought to Pilate consisted of him rapping over sparse Yamaha RX5 drum-machine parts. Pilate responded by going into “study mode.” He listened to the rap stuff that was getting airplay like Doug E. Fresh & the Get Fresh Crew. As a result, the skittering percussion on Burrell’s “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=akVWFiptGNY\">Let’s Get It Started\u003c/a>” is reminiscent of the go-go-inspired arrangements on Doug E. Fresh hits like “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6sGw9GSCiYU\">The Show\u003c/a>” and “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-UtqnKIF7kE\">All the Way to Heaven\u003c/a>.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13927325\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/Hammer.VIdeoShoot.NewParish.Getty_-800x565.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"565\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13927325\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/Hammer.VIdeoShoot.NewParish.Getty_-800x565.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/Hammer.VIdeoShoot.NewParish.Getty_-1020x720.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/Hammer.VIdeoShoot.NewParish.Getty_-160x113.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/Hammer.VIdeoShoot.NewParish.Getty_-768x542.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/Hammer.VIdeoShoot.NewParish.Getty_.jpg 1024w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">MC Hammer films the music video for ‘Let’s Get It Started’ at Sweet Jimmie’s nightclub in downtown Oakland, March 19, 1988. \u003ccite>(Deanne Fitzmaurice/San Francisco Chronicle via Getty Images)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>“My thing was to make it more music-driven than beat-driven,” says Pilate. In many cases, he simply “listened to what [Burrell] was talking about and wrote a straight R&B song underneath it.” He also gives credit to Earley, who helped refine the drum programming and brought “that younger ear” to the project. They incorporated stock horn stabs from a battery of Juno, Roland, and Yamaha drum machines. Meanwhile, Kent “The Lone Mixer” Wilson and Bryant “D.J. Redeemed” Marable added rhythmic scratches by cutting up Curtis Mayfield and Beastie Boys records.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>After the demos were finished, Fantasy Records dropped Pilate, Earley and Burrell from their deals. “They weren’t really sure how to market any of us,” says Pilate. Then, he chuckles, “The next time I ran into the Holyghost Boy, he had changed his name to MC Hammer.” After forming Bustin’ Records in Fremont with financial help from Oakland A’s ballplayers like Mike Davis and Dwayne Murphy, Hammer turned the Pilate demos into three 12”s — “Ring ’Em,” “The Thrill Is Gone” and “Let’s Get It Started” — and the 1987 album \u003cem>Feel My Power\u003c/em>. “I was like, man, those were rough mixes! You were supposed to come back and let me fix that!” Pilate laughs.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Everyone involved in Bay Area hip-hop has vivid memories of MC Hammer blowing up. Near-mythical stories of his local takeover abound, like attending local concerts surrounded by a massive crew; or tearing up the dance floor at The Silks, a popular nightclub in Emeryville.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13927324\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/Hammer.Pilate-800x727.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"727\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13927324\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/Hammer.Pilate-800x727.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/Hammer.Pilate-1020x926.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/Hammer.Pilate-160x145.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/Hammer.Pilate-768x698.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/Hammer.Pilate.jpg 1058w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">MC Hammer and Fenton Pilate in modern times. Pilate engineered and co-produced MC Hammer’s first recordings. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Felton Pilate)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Today, it’s worth revisiting \u003cem>Feel My Power\u003c/em> and 1988’s \u003cem>Let’s Get It Started\u003c/em>. Released after Hammer signed with Capitol Records, \u003cem>Let’s Get It Started\u003c/em> found Hammer and Pilate remixing those original demos while adding vital new tracks like “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9sZVcXzSE3M\">Pump It Up\u003c/a>.” The results are bombastic and vibrant dance-floor jams as ecstatic as anything by Kid ‘n’ Play and Salt-n-Pepa. Hammer’s subsequent leap into pop superstardom with 1990’s \u003cem>Please Hammer Don’t Hurt ‘Em\u003c/em> and the ubiquity of “U Can’t Touch This” obscure just how great those early tracks are.\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>Eight Woofers in the Trunk\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>MC Hammer’s major-label arrival in 1988 capped a year of Bay Area hip-hop on the cusp of national exposure. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>After Too Short issued \u003cem>Born to Mack\u003c/em> in the fall of 1987 on his Dangerous Music label, Jive Records picked it up. (Dangerous Music also issued \u003cem>Dangerous Crew\u003c/em>, a compilation of vital Bay Area acts like Spice-1, Rappin’ 4-Tay, and the female duo Danger Zone.) Digital Underground’s playful and psychedelic “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5zQ1frcgSbI\">Underwater Rimes\u003c/a> / \u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VpBNB20wVo0\">Your Life’s a Cartoon\u003c/a>” led to a deal with Tommy Boy. Local talent waited in the wings, including rapper/producer Paris (A.T.C.’s “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yHpiPWfOBk4\">Cisco Jam\u003c/a>”), Sway & King Tech (\u003cem>\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FBJujmVXiwE\">Flynamic Force\u003c/a>\u003c/em> EP), Dangerous Dame (“\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t9Frj4j09GE\">The Power That’s Packed\u003c/a>”), and MC Twist and the Def Squad (“\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4lZz7qhjfjw\">Just Rock\u003c/a>”). And the late Cameron Paul, known for his “Beats & Pieces” breakbeats, remixed Queens trio Salt-n-Pepa’s 1987 track “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SPkdk1oMmtE\">Push It\u003c/a>” into a global phenomenon.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13828164\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2018/03/CameronPaul-800x496.jpg\" alt=\"Cameron Paul reveals his mixing secrets.\" width=\"800\" height=\"496\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13828164\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/03/CameronPaul.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/03/CameronPaul-160x99.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/03/CameronPaul-768x476.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/03/CameronPaul-240x149.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/03/CameronPaul-375x233.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/03/CameronPaul-520x322.jpg 520w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Cameron Paul, who provided the spine of New Orleans bounce music with ‘Brown Beats’ and recorded a smash-hit remix of Salt ‘n’ Pepa’s ‘Push It,’ was also a prominent club and radio megamix DJ in San Francisco. \u003ccite>(YouTube)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Incidentally, the first local group to score a major label deal wasn’t Hammer, but Surf MCs, a Berkeley group that Profile Records promoted as a Beastie Boys-like rap/rock crossover. Their 1987 album \u003cem>\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ojCAqdBA7uA\">Surf or Die\u003c/a>\u003c/em> proved a flop.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Yet the third moment that catalyzed Bay Area hip-hop wasn’t a singular record like Timex Social Club’s “Rumors,” or an artist like Hammer and Short. It was the sound of walloping, all-enveloping bass.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Made for surgically enhanced car and jeep stereos, the bass colossus is as much a feature of hip-hop in the mid-’80s as the pounding Roland TR-808 machine, from Rick Rubin’s production on LL Cool J’s “Rock the Bells” and T La Rock’s “It’s Yours” to Rodney O and DJ Joe Cooley’s “Everlasting Bass” and Dr. Dre’s work on Eazy-E’s “The Boyz-N-The Hood.” It also mirrors the crack-cocaine epidemic that began to blight and distort communities across the country. As street life turned treacherous, the specter of the hustler, and whether to become one, cast a growing shadow.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
"attributes": {
"named": {},
"numeric": []
}
},
{
"type": "component",
"content": "",
"name": "aside",
"attributes": {
"named": {
"postid": "arts_13925761",
"label": ""
},
"numeric": []
}
},
{
"type": "contentString",
"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>“Then the new style came, the bass got deeper / You gave up the mike and bought you a beeper / Do you want to rap or sell coke? / Brothers like you ain’t never broke,” Too Short memorably rapped on his 1989 hit, “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CvfUUOO0xoM\">Life Is…Too Short\u003c/a>.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Banjoko recalls how the presence of gangs transformed local shows. “You would see a bunch of people dressed up together [in the same gear], and you might assume they were a rap or dance crew. They were young drug lords,” he says. “You could get trampled, beat up or robbed by any of them. I remember 69 Ville being massively deep at the Fresh Fest and the [Run-DMC] Raising Hell tour. They were terrifying, straight up. You were going to tuck your chain, you were going to take your Kangol off, or they were going to take it.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13927326\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 600px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/HughEMC.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"600\" height=\"409\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13927326\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/HughEMC.jpg 600w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/HughEMC-160x109.jpg 160w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 600px) 100vw, 600px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Hugh EMC, the San Francisco rapper whose 1988 single ‘It’s the Game’ unflinchingly chronicled street life. \u003ccite>(Soul Sonic Records)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Rap imagery became more honest and explicit. Some like Richmond rapper Magic Mike, San Francisco’s Hugh EMC (“\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b_p7L0eJfKI\">It’s the Game\u003c/a>”), and Oakland’s Hollywood (“\u003ca href=\"https://www.discogs.com/release/641778-Hollywood-Stay-Heart-And-Soul-Raps-Just-A-Battlefield\">Gangster Rap\u003c/a>”) seemed to embrace the hustler ethos, while cautiously adding verses about the consequences of that lifestyle. Then there was Oakland rapper Morocco Moe, whose “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ogNoOCIVPrI\">Task\u003c/a>” criticized how law enforcement brutalized communities in the War on Drugs: “Their intentions are good/But their actions are wrong.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“Every Black neighborhood was infested” with crack, says Vallejo producer Khayree Shaheed. “There was an influx of money coming into young Black men, but there was also a lot of death occurring.” The epidemic also marked his entry into the world of rap.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>As a descendant of the Bay Area’s vaunted funk tradition, Khayree spent the ’70s and early ’80s playing bass guitar for bands like Grand Larceny, Body Mind & Spirit and Touch of Class (with keyboardist Rosie Gaines, who later joined Prince & the New Power Generation). His travels took him across the U.S. and even to Japan, where Touch of Class lived and performed for several months. (Though his bands made demos, there are no official recordings to date.) When asked about the first time he heard rap, Khayree cites “jazzoetry” ensembles like The Last Poets, not the Sugarhill Gang. And as a youth growing up on Lofas Place in Vallejo, he spent plenty of time following Con Funk Shun, hoping to apprentice with the biggest band in the city.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13927412\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/Khayree.1979.DockoftheBay.72dpi-800x510.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"510\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13927412\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/Khayree.1979.DockoftheBay.72dpi-800x510.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/Khayree.1979.DockoftheBay.72dpi-1020x651.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/Khayree.1979.DockoftheBay.72dpi-160x102.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/Khayree.1979.DockoftheBay.72dpi-768x490.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/Khayree.1979.DockoftheBay.72dpi-1536x980.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/Khayree.1979.DockoftheBay.72dpi.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Vallejo musician Khayree Shaheed, playing bass onstage in 1979. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Khayree Shaheed)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Khayree was in his mid-20s when Rod “I.C.E.” Andrews and Dan “Luvva D” Morrison a.k.a. the Luvva Twins brought Khayree a demo they had made on a Casio keyboard, “Hubba Head.” The song title was slang for a crack addict, and the duo described the “hubba head’s” descent into addiction with charismatic punch. They arranged the music and rapped most of the lyrics, while Khayree dropped a short verse and added guitar.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Khayree had already spent time at Pilate’s home studio, honing his writing and production skills. (“I always enjoyed working with him,” says Pilate.) Now, he brought “Hubba Head” to Pilate, and the two prepared it for release. Setting up his own label, Big Bank Records, Khayree distributed two hundred copies of the 12” to DJs and influencers. “The record was super popular in the streets,” says Khayree.\u003c/p>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003cspan class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__embedYoutube'>\n \u003cspan class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__embedYoutubeInside'>\n \u003ciframe\n loading='lazy'\n class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__youtubePlayer'\n type='text/html'\n src='//www.youtube.com/embed/pArkWvlAebg'\n title='//www.youtube.com/embed/pArkWvlAebg'\n allowfullscreen='true'\n style='border:0;'>\u003c/iframe>\n \u003c/span>\n \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003cp>After “Hubba Head,” Khayree began working with Jay King, a fellow graduate of Vallejo High School. The opportunity to write and produce New Choice’s 1987 single “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q-VLZQ4X1yA\">Cold Stupid\u003c/a>” and most of the quintet’s 1988 debut, \u003cem>At Last\u003c/em>, gave him important experience on a major project and financial stability. By fusing bass, funky R&B and hip-hop breakbeats, New Choice reflected a parallel R&B movement that both influenced and was inspired by the hip-hop scene. Similar Bay Area acts included Oakland’s Tony! Toni! Toné!, who parlayed backing sessions for Sheila E. and Tramaine Hawkins into a major-label deal.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Flush from his experience with New Choice, Khayree was ready to start his own company. “I’m listening to EPMD’s \u003cem>Strictly Business\u003c/em>,” he says, inspiring the name of his second label, Strictly Business Records. He knew that Mike “The Mac” Robinson, who also grew up on Lofas Place, was a rapper. Robinson hailed from a musical family: his uncle Steve “Silver” Scales was a well-traveled Vallejo funk percussionist who played with Talking Heads, Tom Tom Club, and the B-52s. (Though it would be a delicious coincidence, Scales didn’t perform on “Genius of Love.”) Khayree encouraged Robinson to take music more seriously. Meanwhile, Robinson’s mother drew the memorable Strictly Business logo: an open briefcase, ready for business.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In 1988, Khayree released The Mac’s three-song EP, “\u003ca href=\"https://www.discogs.com/release/805531-The-Mac-Im-Ah-Big-Mac\">I’m Ah Big Mac\u003c/a>.” Heard now, what immediately stands out is the unique \u003cem>tone\u003c/em> of the bass. “We used synthesizers that had dumb-fat bass lines,” explains Khayree in reference to himself and Too Short as well as future Bay Area colleagues like Ant Banks. By comparison, he says, other regional scenes relied on a “natural” bass guitar or samples from records. “You feel it through your whole body. … You can get it with a bass guitar, depending on how you EQ the bass and what you run your guitar through. But you’re \u003cem>never\u003c/em> going to touch the subs and the depth of a Minimoog, of the Oberheim Ovx, or the Roland Juno 106.” The EP’s highlight is its B-side “The Game Is Thick,” which centers on a sample of Prince’s “D.M.S.R.” \u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13927371\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/TheMac.GameisThick-800x498.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"498\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13927371\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/TheMac.GameisThick-800x498.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/TheMac.GameisThick-1020x635.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/TheMac.GameisThick-160x100.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/TheMac.GameisThick-768x478.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/TheMac.GameisThick.jpg 1537w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Khayree and The Mac (L–R), pictured on the cover of The Mac’s ‘The Game is Thick.’ \u003ccite>(Phil Bray / Strictly Business Records)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>In 1989, Khayree remixed and re-released “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tCxGl7Ok1YI\">The Game Is Thick\u003c/a>” as a standalone 12” with a memorable cover photo: Khayree looking super-clean in a grey suit, clasping a briefcase, with The Mac in a red-and-black bomber jacket. Khayree calls the style “pimping.” “We didn’t mean pimping so much as getting prostitutes to work,” he explains. “It’s an attitude, and it’s a musical style.” The “game” is a metaphor for life in the Black community. Street slang illustrated complex situations, whether it was dealing with the repercussions of a raging crack epidemic, or simply navigating the tensions of everyday living. Meanwhile, The Mac’s “cool, silky, pimpish” flow and Khayree’s synthesized bass production proved a clear predecessor to the ’90s mob-music sound that took over Bay Area rap.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
"attributes": {
"named": {},
"numeric": []
}
},
{
"type": "component",
"content": "",
"name": "aside",
"attributes": {
"named": {
"postid": "arts_13924167",
"label": ""
},
"numeric": []
}
},
{
"type": "contentString",
"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>Upon release, “The Game Is Thick” didn’t make a major impact, and most copies went to local DJ pools. “We promoted records out of the trunk,” says Khayree. “We went from Bobby G’s Soul Disco in San Francisco to [Rico Casanova’s record pool] The Pros in Oakland.” Still, “The Game Is Thick” remix received a mention in Davey “D” Cook’s April 7, 1989 “Beats & Breaks” column for \u003cem>BAM\u003c/em> Magazine. “Let me tell you, it’s hyped to the max,” Davey D wrote.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>With Khayree’s encouragement, the Mac taught himself how to produce music with synth keyboards. He also introduced Khayree to another Vallejo artist, Andre “Mac Dre” Hicks, who became Strictly Business’ second act. By the time The Mac was shot and killed on July 23, 1991 in what Khayree calls “a case of mistaken identity,” the two had recorded dozens of tracks and released a third and final 12” protesting police violence, 1990’s “Enuff of Tis Sh-t!” One of The Mac’s beats posthumously appeared on Mac Dre’s 1993 track, “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=slA_s7tSjMU\">The M.A.C. & Mac D.R.E.\u003c/a>”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13927413\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/Khayree.KoolMoeDee.72dpi-800x523.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"523\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13927413\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/Khayree.KoolMoeDee.72dpi-800x523.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/Khayree.KoolMoeDee.72dpi-1020x666.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/Khayree.KoolMoeDee.72dpi-160x105.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/Khayree.KoolMoeDee.72dpi-768x502.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/Khayree.KoolMoeDee.72dpi-1536x1003.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/04/Khayree.KoolMoeDee.72dpi.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Khayree with Kool Moe Dee at the 1988 BRE Conference in Los Angeles. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Khayree Shaheed)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>“Mike had a big, big loving heart,” remembers Khayree, sounding wistful. He emphasizes how The Mac left behind a daughter, “Mac” Reina Robinson, and a pregnant girlfriend who gave birth to his son, Mike. At one point, Khayree plays a voicemail of The Mac passionately singing a funky, swinging hook, as if to counteract the stereotype that rappers aren’t musicians. He talks about how The Mac’s way of playing simple, evocative keyboard notes for maximum effect echoes in the work of his famed protégé, Mac Dre. “I miss him,” he says.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
"attributes": {
"named": {},
"numeric": []
}
},
{
"type": "component",
"content": "",
"name": "ad",
"attributes": {
"named": {
"label": "floatright"
},
"numeric": [
"floatright"
]
}
},
{
"type": "contentString",
"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Bay Area rap broke wide at the end of the decade, leading to a 1989 story in the \u003cem>New York Times\u003c/em>, “\u003ca href=\"https://www.nytimes.com/1989/09/10/arts/rap-by-the-bay-oakland-emerges-as-a-force-in-pop.html\">Rap by the Bay: Oakland Emerges as a Force in Pop\u003c/a>.” Not every local pioneer who laid the groundwork would enjoy the fruits of that success. But their stories are essential to understanding how local hip-hop came of age, and everything that came after.\u003c/p>\n\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>",
"attributes": {
"named": {},
"numeric": []
}
}
],
"link": "/arts/13927349/bay-area-hip-hop-1980s",
"authors": [
"11855"
],
"series": [
"arts_22314"
],
"categories": [
"arts_1",
"arts_966",
"arts_7862",
"arts_69",
"arts_75",
"arts_990",
"arts_70"
],
"tags": [
"arts_5397",
"arts_10278",
"arts_831",
"arts_1143",
"arts_19346",
"arts_3478",
"arts_3800"
],
"featImg": "arts_13927364",
"label": "source_arts_13927349"
},
"arts_13925958": {
"type": "posts",
"id": "arts_13925958",
"meta": {
"index": "posts_1716263798",
"site": "arts",
"id": "13925958",
"score": null,
"sort": [
1678386621000
]
},
"guestAuthors": [],
"slug": "bay-area-west-coast-south-rap-hip-hop-master-p-no-limit",
"title": "How the Bay Area and the South Became Hip-Hop Family",
"publishDate": 1678386621,
"format": "standard",
"headTitle": "How the Bay Area and the South Became Hip-Hop Family | KQED",
"labelTerm": {},
"content": "\u003cp>\u003cem>\u003cstrong>Editor’s note\u003c/strong>: This story is part of \u003c/em>\u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/bayareahiphop\">That’s My Word\u003c/a>\u003cem>, KQED’s year-long exploration of Bay Area hip-hop history, with new content dropping all throughout 2023.\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 4.6875em;float: left;line-height: 0.733em;padding: 0.05em 0.1em 0 0;font-family: times, serif, georgia\">“P\u003c/span>icture me on a tour bus in 1995 with a bunch of West Coast artists,” Percy “Master P” Miller wrote in his 2007 book \u003cem>Guaranteed Success\u003c/em>. “My brother and I were the only artists from the South. We were the opening act, and they wouldn’t even play our music on the bus.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>At the time, in 1995, Master P was near the end of his four-year tenure as the owner of a small record store, No Limit Records & Tapes, in Richmond. The New Orleans-raised artist had relocated to the Bay Area to attend Merritt College, and he opened his San Pablo Avenue shop with $10,000 he’d inherited from a malpractice settlement after his grandfather’s death.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“I took that money and made my first financial investment: I bought a record store that was going out of business in an urban community,” wrote Master P. He negotiated six months of free rent in exchange for improving the retail space. “As a result, my record store was a booming success and, for the first time, I began to experience a comfortable lifestyle.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Not everyone was checking for Master P and No Limit, though. In addition to being shunned by his tour mates, San Francisco radio station KMEL wouldn’t play his music — “even though I done sold more records than any other artist in the Bay Area,” he \u003ca href=\"https://www.sfgate.com/entertainment/article/Rap-s-Master-P-Has-a-Master-Plan-Media-rejects-2824304.php\">told Billy Jam for a 1997 \u003cem>San Francisco Chronicle\u003c/em> article\u003c/a>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>By the time of that interview, Master P was back in New Orleans, living an ostentatious multimillionaire lifestyle. No Limit had become a successful label with national distribution through Priority Records, and its massive sales funded Master P’s ever-expanding business empire. (By 1998, \u003ca href=\"https://www.nytimes.com/1998/05/13/arts/gangsta-rapper-turns-entrepreneur-28-master-p-has-created-one-biggest.html\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">No Limit had cumulative record sales totaling $120 million\u003c/a>, according to \u003cem>The New York Times\u003c/em>.) He’d had an entrepreneurial spirit that dated back to his childhood, but it was in the Bay Area — home of the “out the trunk” independent rap hustle since the early ’80s — where he absorbed the game that facilitated his nationwide success.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13925975\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13925975\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/03/GettyImages-461087774-800x1097.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"1097\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/03/GettyImages-461087774-800x1097.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/03/GettyImages-461087774-1020x1399.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/03/GettyImages-461087774-160x219.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/03/GettyImages-461087774-768x1053.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/03/GettyImages-461087774-1120x1536.jpg 1120w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/03/GettyImages-461087774-1493x2048.jpg 1493w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/03/GettyImages-461087774-1920x2634.jpg 1920w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/03/GettyImages-461087774-scaled.jpg 1866w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Master P attends the 26th Annual American Music Awards in Los Angeles. By the time of this photo, in 1999, his label No Limit had grossed over $120 million in album sales. \u003ccite>(Ron Galella, Ltd./Ron Galella Collection via Getty Images)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Master P’s empire is just one example of the ongoing cultural exchange between the Bay Area and the South, which goes back decades: During the Second Great Migration between 1940 and 1970, Black Southerners \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/news/11910890/how-oaklands-16th-street-train-station-helped-build-west-oakland-and-the-modern-civil-rights-movement\">flocked to cities like Oakland, Richmond and San Francisco\u003c/a>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In the years that followed, their descendants helped establish the Bay Area’s distinctive hip-hop culture, whose sound and independent business model then traveled back to Atlanta, New Orleans, Houston and Memphis. Close observers of the rap scenes in these Southern cities will find strong ties to the Bay Area, and in turn, Southern rappers, producers and promoters have had a sizable stamp on the Bay Area’s own scene. This close kinship between the two regions undeniably shaped hip-hop history — and it continues to this day.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>[Listen to our ‘From the Bay to the South’ playlist, curated by Tamara Palmer, on \u003ca href=\"https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5K9S3wYkGHf9hk7k8sOdv6?si=f46124d722c84c0b\">Spotify\u003c/a> and \u003ca href=\"https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLeGdTT0--8KiiMa4o9t3tOxhGg4lfIPEA\">YouTube\u003c/a>.]\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c!-- iframe plugin v.4.3 wordpress.org/plugins/iframe/ -->\u003cbr>\n\u003ciframe style=\"border-radius:12px\" src=\"https://open.spotify.com/embed/playlist/5K9S3wYkGHf9hk7k8sOdv6?utm_source=generator\" width=\"100%\" height=\"352\" frameborder=\"0\" allowfullscreen allow=\"autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; fullscreen; picture-in-picture\" loading=\"lazy\" scrolling=\"yes\" class=\"iframe-class\">\u003c/iframe>\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>The Bay-to-South business pipeline\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>Master P and No Limit weren’t alone. Over the years, artists and record labels all across the South adopted the Bay Area’s independent business model and used it to achieve great success.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“Selling tapes out the trunk of the car, that was pretty much patented by E-40, Too $hort, Tony Draper at Suave House, Rap-A-Lot, people like that,” Vallejo-born rapper Earl “E-40” Stevens said in an interview for my 2004 book about Southern rap, shouting out two Houston labels. “Then came along the Master Ps of the world and the Cash Moneys. They watched the game and did what they supposed to do, and now they reaching for the stars.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In a \u003ca href=\"https://youtu.be/4mrKNCTlv0s\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">2019 interview with Sway Calloway\u003c/a>, Master P seemed to agree with this assessment. He referred to E-40’s uncle, the \u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ssiJQSm-Ln4\">soul singer\u003c/a> and \u003ca href=\"https://www.nytimes.com/2006/03/26/arts/music/the-first-family-of-hyphy-pops-a-collar-whatd-they-say.html\">entrepreneur\u003c/a> Saint Charles Thurman, as the “OG” music distributor who taught him how to release records independently. Watching Thurman’s success running the small distribution company Solar Music Group, Master P realized: “I don’t need to wait for the big companies to push me, I’m going to get out there and push myself,” he recalled.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>https://youtu.be/ErwejjBZRMo\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In turn, Master P along with other Southern artists, DJs and promoters played a crucial role in the national success of Bay Area artists like E-40 in the ’90s. Taking a cue from Herm Lewis, the Hunters Point street activist who \u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LvTaoNzFGHU&list=PLU1OibAu4SezP41p6YZUfkokGSFMhlz3Y\">popularized artist compilations\u003c/a>, Master P released \u003cem>West Coast Bad Boyz, Vol. 1: Anotha Level of the Game\u003c/em> in 1994. It included contributions from the Bay Area’s JT the Bigga Figga, \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13923766/rbl-posse-a-lesson-to-be-learned-album-cover\">RBL Posse\u003c/a>, Rappin’ 4-Tay, Ray Luv and Dre Dog (now Andre Nickatina).\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Master P would continue to release compilations after he moved No Limit back home to Louisiana. In 1997, the label’s breakout year, \u003cem>West Coast Bad Boyz II\u003c/em> starred Mac Dre, E-A-Ski and Sacramento rappers C-Bo, Lunasicc and Marvaless, and was dedicated to Tupac Shakur. Even more successful was the soundtrack to the 1997 movie \u003cem>I’m Bout It\u003c/em>, with E-40, B-Legit, E-A-Ski and JT The Bigga Figga, and which reached No. 1 on the Billboard Top R&B/Hip-Hop Albums chart and No. 4 on the Billboard 200.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>E-40 also credits DJs and promoters like Meen Green in Dallas, Greg Street in Atlanta and Marvin “Jabber Jaws” Williams in Shreveport for helping build his career on the radio and in clubs in those early years. Forming a constellation across the south, they booked him for gigs and put his records in rotation. [pullquote size='large']Close observers of the rap scenes in Atlanta, New Orleans, Houston and Memphis will find strong ties to the Bay Area, and in turn, Southern rappers, producers and promoters have had a sizable stamp on the Bay Area’s own scene.[/pullquote]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Though streaming has long replaced the “out the trunk” era, the Bay Area’s influence on independent music distribution remains. These days, the savviest artists from the South know that they need to hit San Francisco to strike a lucrative business deal with \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/ourturbulentdecade/2012-empire-brought-the-music-industry-back-to-san-francisco\">EMPIRE\u003c/a>, now the world’s leading hip-hop distributor. When I visited the company’s well-appointed Financial District penthouse office in 2019, I met the remarkable Memphis rapper Adolph “Young Dolph” Thornton.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“I can’t shake,” he said warmly when introduced, offering a big hug in place of a stiff hand. Dolph, who was later murdered in his hometown in 2021, was responsible for two gold-certified records on EMPIRE’s wall. His EMPIRE deal also enabled him to sign and develop his own artists, such as fellow Memphis rapper Key Glock, setting them up to win via collaborations.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>It wasn’t the first time the Bay Area played an important role in a Memphis artist’s success. Young Dolph’s one-time rival, Yo Gotti, made his mid-2010s comeback with hits like “Act Right,” produced by Pinole’s P-Lo, and “Law,” featuring E-40. (E-40 also \u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EIeGHPGSyRM\">recorded\u003c/a> with the late “Queen of Memphis,” Three Six Mafia’s Gangsta Boo, who \u003ca href=\"https://twitter.com/GangstaBooQOM/status/185053550299193344\">once proclaimed\u003c/a>: “SHOUT OUT TO THE BAY AREA!!! I ROCKS WITH YALL THE LONG WAAAAY.”)\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>https://youtu.be/8HYXw1vADFQ\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Going back further, musical and cultural influence has also flowed from Memphis to the Bay. MC Hammer \u003ca href=\"https://twitter.com/mchammer/status/27278318672?lang=en\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">admitted on Twitter\u003c/a> that he learned the pre-crunk, pre-hyphy “get buck” style of dancing (later known as gangsta walking) in Memphis in the late ’80s. And iconic Memphis duo 8Ball & MJG worked with marquee Bay Area names like E-40, Mac Mall, Rappin’ 4-Tay and Spice 1 on both group and solo projects in the late ’90s and early aughts.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Even though Atlanta had become the rap industry’s power center by the time EMPIRE launched in San Francisco in 2010, keeping EMPIRE’s headquarters in the Bay Area is a core part of the company’s mission. “San Francisco has always been a place where incredible creatives were bred, but few of them are here at this point,” EMPIRE Vice President Nima Etminan told me in 2019. “Even in the music scene, when you look at it, a Sway [Calloway from SiriusXM], or an Ebro [Darden of Hot 97 in New York], or a [early Apple Music exec] Larry Jackson … all came from here, but people don’t really realize it.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“I think [being in the] Financial District on the 24th floor in downtown San Francisco is definitely not necessarily the cheapest route to take,” Etminan continued, “but it’s a statement. It’s like, you’ve got to come \u003cem>here\u003c/em> to see us.”\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>The Bay’s influence on bounce and trap, and the South’s mark on hyphy\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>The Bay Area, Atlanta, Houston and New Orleans share a love for big, trunk-rattling beats, and collaborations between the cities’ artists have resulted in influential hits. Atlanta hitmaker Lil Jon bumped Too Short in his ride in high school, and later produced Short’s “Blow The Whistle” and E-40’s “Tell Me When to Go,” the twin beacons that introduced hyphy to the rest of the nation.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>https://youtu.be/2GZbaXdK8Js\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In turn, producers from the Bay Area have facilitated crucial Southern records. The late KMEL DJ Cameron Paul’s track “Brown Beats” helped form the \u003ca href=\"https://1079ishot.com/new-orleans-bounce-cameron-paul-brown-beats/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">spine of New Orleans bounce music\u003c/a>. Houston’s DJ Screw, who passed away in 2000, recorded a session in his home studio with Texas-born Oaklander Spice 1, and was known to feature plenty of Bay Area rap songs on his influential “Grey Tape” cassette mixes. Mike Dean, who produced for Houston’s Rap-A-Lot Records, crafted beats for \u003cem>Stackin Chips\u003c/em>, the 1997 debut album of Keak Da Sneak’s group 3X Krazy, and Bay Area artists like Yukmouth (whose Smoke-A-Lot Records is distributed by Rap-A-Lot), Seagram and producer Tone Capone recorded for the label in the ’90s and early aughts.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Just outside of Houston in Port Arthur, Chad “Pimp C” Butler of UGK shared a close friendship and musical camaraderie with Too Short. In 2007, the night before he died, Pimp C appeared onstage at Too Short’s show at the now-defunct House of Blues on the Sunset Strip, according to Julia Beverly’s biography \u003cem>Sweet Jones: Pimp C’s Trill Life Story\u003c/em>. In what’s said to be \u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JK3HLJk8iMY\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">his final interview\u003c/a>, Pimp C credited the Oakland legend for his career longevity: “I just follow what Too Short told me. He told me ‘Don’t Stop Rappin’.’ I just kept on making the kind of records that the people down where I live at like.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Outkast, whose Andre 3000 has acknowledged the Bay Area as a notable early influence, broadcast an alternative rap sound out of Atlanta in the ’90s. “I have to — I \u003cem>have\u003c/em> to — give a shout to the Hieroglyphics crew and Souls Of Mischief, because as kids we were hugely influenced by them,” Andre 3000 told \u003ca href=\"https://www.npr.org/sections/microphonecheck/2014/09/26/351559126/andre-3000-you-can-do-anything-from-atlanta\">NPR’s \u003cem>Microphone Check\u003c/em>\u003c/a> in 2014. And Outkast’s Big Boi was just as direct about another Bay Area influence: “One of my favorite rappers happens to be Too Short,” he rapped on the 2010 track “Fo Yo Sorrows.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>https://youtu.be/qsUSlR7tTEs\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Later, as trap music began to fill the Southern streets, a Bay Area-bred producer helped develop its sound and take it to the national airwaves.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Xavier “Zaytoven” Dotson was born to a military family in Germany and spent his formative years in San Francisco before joining his parents in Atlanta, where a giant, free basement studio at their new Georgia home beckoned. Within a year, when he wasn’t away from the studio playing organ for his parents’ church, Zaytoven produced Gucci Mane’s breakout 2005 hit “Icy.” Word quickly got around the proverbial trap that Zaytoven’s basement was \u003cem>the\u003c/em> place to record, and his client list grew to include Future, Usher, Travis Scott, the late Young Dolph and many others.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>https://youtu.be/Io6D5tAK8Ks\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“Even though it’s with artists from the South, you can hear, you can see where the sound came from: that’s Bay Area music all day long,” Zaytoven said of “Icy” in a \u003ca href=\"https://youtu.be/jrbRSK0Dkfw\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">2018 interview with \u003cem>The Sana G Morning Show\u003c/em>\u003c/a> on KMEL. “[The Bay] still has a funky instrumentation sound to it, so even when I’m in the South making just gutter beats, I still got them melodic sounds going on. That’s what attached me to the Bay Area so much. … I definitely try to represent the Bay every time I get. This is where I got my game from!”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In 2021, the producer returned to his local roots and worked with EMPIRE to release the compilation \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13895586/a-salute-to-san-francisco-rap\">\u003cem>Zaytoven Presents: Fo15\u003c/em>\u003c/a> on April 15 (or 415 Day, in homage to San Francisco’s area code). Up-and-coming San Francisco artists on the collection included Lil Bean, Lil Pete, Lil Yee, KxNG Llama, Prezi and ZayBang — proving that the Bay Area-South pipeline is far from running dry.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“I was molded in San Francisco, California,” Zaytoven added in his KMEL interview. “That’s why I represent the Bay Area.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13925986\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13925986\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/03/GettyImages-1186811732-800x534.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"534\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/03/GettyImages-1186811732-800x534.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/03/GettyImages-1186811732-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/03/GettyImages-1186811732-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/03/GettyImages-1186811732-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/03/GettyImages-1186811732.jpg 1024w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Zaytoven performs at AfroTech 2019 at Oakland Marriott City Center on Nov. 9, 2019. \u003ccite>(Robin L Marshall/Getty Images for AfroTech)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003ch2>A cultural and philanthropic exchange\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>Beyond business and beats, Northern California has made an imprint on the South’s cultural institutions thanks to philanthropy and outreach from artists like Tupac and E-40. Though Tupac is considered a West Coast icon, surprisingly, Too Short called him “the heartbeat of the South” when I interviewed him in 2004.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“I used to be at the club and the DJ would put on records off \u003cem>Makaveli\u003c/em> because \u003cem>Makaveli\u003c/em> came out right after Pac died,” said Too Short, who lived in Atlanta in the mid-’90s. “You would swear that nigga was on stage! The whole damn crowd be singing every word. It would be like a concert, and he ain’t even there.” [aside postid='arts_13924126,arts_13924224,arts_13925177']\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Towards the end of his life, Tupac \u003ca href=\"https://people.com/archive/all-eyes-on-her-vol-48-no-22/\">moved his mother Afeni Shakur\u003c/a> (who was originally from North Carolina) to Stone Mountain, Georgia, a suburb near Atlanta where he purchased his first home. Afeni operated the Tupac Amaru Shakur Center for the Arts in the former Confederate town from 2005 to 2015. It was an extension of the annual PACamp that Afeni started in 1997 as a free summer arts program for youth ages 12–18.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>When I visited the arts center a few months after its opening, I was struck by a statue of Tupac in the Peace Garden, which represented how he might have looked had he been allowed to grow older. It was remarkable that Tupac’s legacy was housed in Georgia instead of the Bay Area or Los Angeles. And his influence resonated beyond the Peach State throughout the South.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“I just saw how much of an influence Tupac had on Master P and No Limit, how much of an influence Tupac had on the whole city of Atlanta, Georgia and on Houston, Texas, and just how much influence on that whole ‘\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J90bUNuJ20k\">Bankhead [Bounce]\u003c/a>’ and getting crunk certain songs off \u003cem>Makaveli\u003c/em> had on that shit,” Too Short said. “Tupac was so much crunk — his shit was so crunk as far as what crunk meant, you know what I’m saying? He was a part of it even though he had just passed away. But he was a part of it. The \u003cem>Makaveli\u003c/em> album was in it. It was in the scene.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13925976\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 766px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13925976\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/03/Tupac-Statue-By-Tamara-Palmer.jpeg\" alt=\"\" width=\"766\" height=\"1024\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/03/Tupac-Statue-By-Tamara-Palmer.jpeg 766w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/03/Tupac-Statue-By-Tamara-Palmer-160x214.jpeg 160w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 766px) 100vw, 766px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">The Tupac statue at the Tupac Amaru Shakur Center for the Arts in Stone Mountain, Georgia in 2006. \u003ccite>(Tamara Palmer)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Two decades after the Tupac Amaru Shakur Center opened, E-40 would make his own impact on a southern state by investing in its young artists. The veteran rapper still has family in Texas and Louisiana, and studied at Grambling State University in Louisiana for a year. Although he didn’t complete his degree there, he made a lasting contribution with \u003ca href=\"https://www.complex.com/music/e40-100k-donation-hbcu-alma-mater-grambling\">his $100,000 donation\u003c/a> to the university’s marching band and music program, which now boasts the brand-new Earl “E-40” Stevens Sound Recording Studio on campus.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“Music is my passion,” E-40 said while presenting the check in February 2023. “Music is therapeutic and healing.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The South wasn’t just where E-40 spent formative years as a young musician. It also influenced a key part of his artistry: his slang, much of which he has invented himself over the years. “Of course, I don’t make up all the fuckin’ words in the world, but I make up at least 75% of the shit I say,” said E-40 in a 2004 \u003cem>Murder Dog\u003c/em> interview. “The other 25%, I get words from down South, choppin’ it up with my folks down South.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The familial, cultural and business ties between the Bay Area and the South are strong and diverse, and have been for generations. It’s time to appreciate and nurture these bonds. And the beat goes on: as this back-and-forth flow of influence continues to percolate behind the scenes, the future is looking rather funky.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter size-medium wp-image-11687704\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2016/06/Turntable.Break_-800x60.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"60\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/06/Turntable.Break_.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/06/Turntable.Break_-400x30.jpg 400w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/06/Turntable.Break_-768x58.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad floatright]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>\u003ca href=\"http://www.thetamarapalmer.com/\">Tamara Palmer\u003c/a> is a DJ and the author of \u003c/em>\u003ca href=\"https://www.amazon.com/Country-Fried-Soul-Adventures-Hip-Hop/dp/0879308575\">Country Fried Soul: Adventures in Dirty South Hip-Hop\u003c/a>\u003cem> (Backbeat Books, 2005). She’s currently working on a personal rap anthology called \u003c/em>California Love\u003cem>\u003cem>.\u003c/em>\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\n",
"blocks": [],
"excerpt": "Mapping the connections between Master P, E-40, Outkast, Too Short, UGK and others in hip-hop's Bay Area-Southern pipeline.",
"status": "publish",
"parent": 0,
"modified": 1726791196,
"stats": {
"hasAudio": false,
"hasVideo": false,
"hasChartOrMap": false,
"iframeSrcs": [],
"hasGoogleForm": false,
"hasGallery": false,
"hasHearkenModule": false,
"hasPolis": false,
"paragraphCount": 44,
"wordCount": 3190
},
"headData": {
"title": "How the Bay Area and the South Became Hip-Hop Family | KQED",
"description": "Mapping the connections between E-40, Master P, Outkast, Too Short, UGK and others in hip-hop's Bay Area-Southern pipeline.",
"ogTitle": "How the Bay Area and the South Became Hip-Hop Family",
"ogDescription": "Mapping the connections between E-40, Master P, Outkast, Too Short, UGK and others in hip-hop's Bay Area-Southern pipeline.",
"ogImgId": "arts_13926018",
"twTitle": "How the Bay Area and the South Became Hip-Hop Family",
"twDescription": "Mapping the connections between E-40, Master P, Outkast, Too Short, UGK and others in hip-hop's Bay Area-Southern pipeline.",
"twImgId": "arts_13926018",
"socialDescription": "Mapping the connections between E-40, Master P, Outkast, Too Short, UGK and others in hip-hop's Bay Area-Southern pipeline.",
"schema": {
"@context": "https://schema.org",
"@type": "Article",
"headline": "How the Bay Area and the South Became Hip-Hop Family",
"datePublished": "2023-03-09T10:30:21-08:00",
"dateModified": "2024-09-19T17:13:16-07:00",
"image": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/02/KQED-OG-Image@1x.png"
}
},
"source": "That's My Word",
"sourceUrl": "https://www.kqed.org/bayareahiphop",
"sticky": false,
"templateType": "standard",
"featuredImageType": "standard",
"excludeFromSiteSearch": "Include",
"showOnAuthorArchivePages": "No",
"articleAge": "0",
"path": "/arts/13925958/bay-area-west-coast-south-rap-hip-hop-master-p-no-limit",
"audioTrackLength": null,
"parsedContent": [
{
"type": "contentString",
"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp>\u003cem>\u003cstrong>Editor’s note\u003c/strong>: This story is part of \u003c/em>\u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/bayareahiphop\">That’s My Word\u003c/a>\u003cem>, KQED’s year-long exploration of Bay Area hip-hop history, with new content dropping all throughout 2023.\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 4.6875em;float: left;line-height: 0.733em;padding: 0.05em 0.1em 0 0;font-family: times, serif, georgia\">“P\u003c/span>icture me on a tour bus in 1995 with a bunch of West Coast artists,” Percy “Master P” Miller wrote in his 2007 book \u003cem>Guaranteed Success\u003c/em>. “My brother and I were the only artists from the South. We were the opening act, and they wouldn’t even play our music on the bus.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>At the time, in 1995, Master P was near the end of his four-year tenure as the owner of a small record store, No Limit Records & Tapes, in Richmond. The New Orleans-raised artist had relocated to the Bay Area to attend Merritt College, and he opened his San Pablo Avenue shop with $10,000 he’d inherited from a malpractice settlement after his grandfather’s death.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“I took that money and made my first financial investment: I bought a record store that was going out of business in an urban community,” wrote Master P. He negotiated six months of free rent in exchange for improving the retail space. “As a result, my record store was a booming success and, for the first time, I began to experience a comfortable lifestyle.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Not everyone was checking for Master P and No Limit, though. In addition to being shunned by his tour mates, San Francisco radio station KMEL wouldn’t play his music — “even though I done sold more records than any other artist in the Bay Area,” he \u003ca href=\"https://www.sfgate.com/entertainment/article/Rap-s-Master-P-Has-a-Master-Plan-Media-rejects-2824304.php\">told Billy Jam for a 1997 \u003cem>San Francisco Chronicle\u003c/em> article\u003c/a>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
"attributes": {
"named": {},
"numeric": []
}
},
{
"type": "component",
"content": "",
"name": "ad",
"attributes": {
"named": {
"label": "fullwidth"
},
"numeric": [
"fullwidth"
]
}
},
{
"type": "contentString",
"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>By the time of that interview, Master P was back in New Orleans, living an ostentatious multimillionaire lifestyle. No Limit had become a successful label with national distribution through Priority Records, and its massive sales funded Master P’s ever-expanding business empire. (By 1998, \u003ca href=\"https://www.nytimes.com/1998/05/13/arts/gangsta-rapper-turns-entrepreneur-28-master-p-has-created-one-biggest.html\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">No Limit had cumulative record sales totaling $120 million\u003c/a>, according to \u003cem>The New York Times\u003c/em>.) He’d had an entrepreneurial spirit that dated back to his childhood, but it was in the Bay Area — home of the “out the trunk” independent rap hustle since the early ’80s — where he absorbed the game that facilitated his nationwide success.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13925975\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13925975\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/03/GettyImages-461087774-800x1097.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"1097\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/03/GettyImages-461087774-800x1097.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/03/GettyImages-461087774-1020x1399.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/03/GettyImages-461087774-160x219.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/03/GettyImages-461087774-768x1053.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/03/GettyImages-461087774-1120x1536.jpg 1120w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/03/GettyImages-461087774-1493x2048.jpg 1493w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/03/GettyImages-461087774-1920x2634.jpg 1920w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/03/GettyImages-461087774-scaled.jpg 1866w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Master P attends the 26th Annual American Music Awards in Los Angeles. By the time of this photo, in 1999, his label No Limit had grossed over $120 million in album sales. \u003ccite>(Ron Galella, Ltd./Ron Galella Collection via Getty Images)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Master P’s empire is just one example of the ongoing cultural exchange between the Bay Area and the South, which goes back decades: During the Second Great Migration between 1940 and 1970, Black Southerners \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/news/11910890/how-oaklands-16th-street-train-station-helped-build-west-oakland-and-the-modern-civil-rights-movement\">flocked to cities like Oakland, Richmond and San Francisco\u003c/a>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In the years that followed, their descendants helped establish the Bay Area’s distinctive hip-hop culture, whose sound and independent business model then traveled back to Atlanta, New Orleans, Houston and Memphis. Close observers of the rap scenes in these Southern cities will find strong ties to the Bay Area, and in turn, Southern rappers, producers and promoters have had a sizable stamp on the Bay Area’s own scene. This close kinship between the two regions undeniably shaped hip-hop history — and it continues to this day.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>[Listen to our ‘From the Bay to the South’ playlist, curated by Tamara Palmer, on \u003ca href=\"https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5K9S3wYkGHf9hk7k8sOdv6?si=f46124d722c84c0b\">Spotify\u003c/a> and \u003ca href=\"https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLeGdTT0--8KiiMa4o9t3tOxhGg4lfIPEA\">YouTube\u003c/a>.]\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c!-- iframe plugin v.4.3 wordpress.org/plugins/iframe/ -->\u003cbr>\n\u003ciframe style=\"border-radius:12px\" src=\"https://open.spotify.com/embed/playlist/5K9S3wYkGHf9hk7k8sOdv6?utm_source=generator\" width=\"100%\" height=\"352\" frameborder=\"0\" allowfullscreen allow=\"autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; fullscreen; picture-in-picture\" loading=\"lazy\" scrolling=\"yes\" class=\"iframe-class\">\u003c/iframe>\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>The Bay-to-South business pipeline\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>Master P and No Limit weren’t alone. Over the years, artists and record labels all across the South adopted the Bay Area’s independent business model and used it to achieve great success.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“Selling tapes out the trunk of the car, that was pretty much patented by E-40, Too $hort, Tony Draper at Suave House, Rap-A-Lot, people like that,” Vallejo-born rapper Earl “E-40” Stevens said in an interview for my 2004 book about Southern rap, shouting out two Houston labels. “Then came along the Master Ps of the world and the Cash Moneys. They watched the game and did what they supposed to do, and now they reaching for the stars.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In a \u003ca href=\"https://youtu.be/4mrKNCTlv0s\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">2019 interview with Sway Calloway\u003c/a>, Master P seemed to agree with this assessment. He referred to E-40’s uncle, the \u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ssiJQSm-Ln4\">soul singer\u003c/a> and \u003ca href=\"https://www.nytimes.com/2006/03/26/arts/music/the-first-family-of-hyphy-pops-a-collar-whatd-they-say.html\">entrepreneur\u003c/a> Saint Charles Thurman, as the “OG” music distributor who taught him how to release records independently. Watching Thurman’s success running the small distribution company Solar Music Group, Master P realized: “I don’t need to wait for the big companies to push me, I’m going to get out there and push myself,” he recalled.\u003c/p>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003cspan class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__embedYoutube'>\n \u003cspan class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__embedYoutubeInside'>\n \u003ciframe\n loading='lazy'\n class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__youtubePlayer'\n type='text/html'\n src='//www.youtube.com/embed/ErwejjBZRMo'\n title='//www.youtube.com/embed/ErwejjBZRMo'\n allowfullscreen='true'\n style='border:0;'>\u003c/iframe>\n \u003c/span>\n \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003cp>In turn, Master P along with other Southern artists, DJs and promoters played a crucial role in the national success of Bay Area artists like E-40 in the ’90s. Taking a cue from Herm Lewis, the Hunters Point street activist who \u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LvTaoNzFGHU&list=PLU1OibAu4SezP41p6YZUfkokGSFMhlz3Y\">popularized artist compilations\u003c/a>, Master P released \u003cem>West Coast Bad Boyz, Vol. 1: Anotha Level of the Game\u003c/em> in 1994. It included contributions from the Bay Area’s JT the Bigga Figga, \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13923766/rbl-posse-a-lesson-to-be-learned-album-cover\">RBL Posse\u003c/a>, Rappin’ 4-Tay, Ray Luv and Dre Dog (now Andre Nickatina).\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Master P would continue to release compilations after he moved No Limit back home to Louisiana. In 1997, the label’s breakout year, \u003cem>West Coast Bad Boyz II\u003c/em> starred Mac Dre, E-A-Ski and Sacramento rappers C-Bo, Lunasicc and Marvaless, and was dedicated to Tupac Shakur. Even more successful was the soundtrack to the 1997 movie \u003cem>I’m Bout It\u003c/em>, with E-40, B-Legit, E-A-Ski and JT The Bigga Figga, and which reached No. 1 on the Billboard Top R&B/Hip-Hop Albums chart and No. 4 on the Billboard 200.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>E-40 also credits DJs and promoters like Meen Green in Dallas, Greg Street in Atlanta and Marvin “Jabber Jaws” Williams in Shreveport for helping build his career on the radio and in clubs in those early years. Forming a constellation across the south, they booked him for gigs and put his records in rotation. \u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
"attributes": {
"named": {},
"numeric": []
}
},
{
"type": "component",
"content": "Close observers of the rap scenes in Atlanta, New Orleans, Houston and Memphis will find strong ties to the Bay Area, and in turn, Southern rappers, producers and promoters have had a sizable stamp on the Bay Area’s own scene.",
"name": "pullquote",
"attributes": {
"named": {
"size": "large",
"label": ""
},
"numeric": []
}
},
{
"type": "contentString",
"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Though streaming has long replaced the “out the trunk” era, the Bay Area’s influence on independent music distribution remains. These days, the savviest artists from the South know that they need to hit San Francisco to strike a lucrative business deal with \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/ourturbulentdecade/2012-empire-brought-the-music-industry-back-to-san-francisco\">EMPIRE\u003c/a>, now the world’s leading hip-hop distributor. When I visited the company’s well-appointed Financial District penthouse office in 2019, I met the remarkable Memphis rapper Adolph “Young Dolph” Thornton.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“I can’t shake,” he said warmly when introduced, offering a big hug in place of a stiff hand. Dolph, who was later murdered in his hometown in 2021, was responsible for two gold-certified records on EMPIRE’s wall. His EMPIRE deal also enabled him to sign and develop his own artists, such as fellow Memphis rapper Key Glock, setting them up to win via collaborations.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>It wasn’t the first time the Bay Area played an important role in a Memphis artist’s success. Young Dolph’s one-time rival, Yo Gotti, made his mid-2010s comeback with hits like “Act Right,” produced by Pinole’s P-Lo, and “Law,” featuring E-40. (E-40 also \u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EIeGHPGSyRM\">recorded\u003c/a> with the late “Queen of Memphis,” Three Six Mafia’s Gangsta Boo, who \u003ca href=\"https://twitter.com/GangstaBooQOM/status/185053550299193344\">once proclaimed\u003c/a>: “SHOUT OUT TO THE BAY AREA!!! I ROCKS WITH YALL THE LONG WAAAAY.”)\u003c/p>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003cspan class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__embedYoutube'>\n \u003cspan class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__embedYoutubeInside'>\n \u003ciframe\n loading='lazy'\n class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__youtubePlayer'\n type='text/html'\n src='//www.youtube.com/embed/8HYXw1vADFQ'\n title='//www.youtube.com/embed/8HYXw1vADFQ'\n allowfullscreen='true'\n style='border:0;'>\u003c/iframe>\n \u003c/span>\n \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003cp>Going back further, musical and cultural influence has also flowed from Memphis to the Bay. MC Hammer \u003ca href=\"https://twitter.com/mchammer/status/27278318672?lang=en\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">admitted on Twitter\u003c/a> that he learned the pre-crunk, pre-hyphy “get buck” style of dancing (later known as gangsta walking) in Memphis in the late ’80s. And iconic Memphis duo 8Ball & MJG worked with marquee Bay Area names like E-40, Mac Mall, Rappin’ 4-Tay and Spice 1 on both group and solo projects in the late ’90s and early aughts.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Even though Atlanta had become the rap industry’s power center by the time EMPIRE launched in San Francisco in 2010, keeping EMPIRE’s headquarters in the Bay Area is a core part of the company’s mission. “San Francisco has always been a place where incredible creatives were bred, but few of them are here at this point,” EMPIRE Vice President Nima Etminan told me in 2019. “Even in the music scene, when you look at it, a Sway [Calloway from SiriusXM], or an Ebro [Darden of Hot 97 in New York], or a [early Apple Music exec] Larry Jackson … all came from here, but people don’t really realize it.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“I think [being in the] Financial District on the 24th floor in downtown San Francisco is definitely not necessarily the cheapest route to take,” Etminan continued, “but it’s a statement. It’s like, you’ve got to come \u003cem>here\u003c/em> to see us.”\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>The Bay’s influence on bounce and trap, and the South’s mark on hyphy\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>The Bay Area, Atlanta, Houston and New Orleans share a love for big, trunk-rattling beats, and collaborations between the cities’ artists have resulted in influential hits. Atlanta hitmaker Lil Jon bumped Too Short in his ride in high school, and later produced Short’s “Blow The Whistle” and E-40’s “Tell Me When to Go,” the twin beacons that introduced hyphy to the rest of the nation.\u003c/p>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003cspan class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__embedYoutube'>\n \u003cspan class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__embedYoutubeInside'>\n \u003ciframe\n loading='lazy'\n class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__youtubePlayer'\n type='text/html'\n src='//www.youtube.com/embed/2GZbaXdK8Js'\n title='//www.youtube.com/embed/2GZbaXdK8Js'\n allowfullscreen='true'\n style='border:0;'>\u003c/iframe>\n \u003c/span>\n \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003cp>In turn, producers from the Bay Area have facilitated crucial Southern records. The late KMEL DJ Cameron Paul’s track “Brown Beats” helped form the \u003ca href=\"https://1079ishot.com/new-orleans-bounce-cameron-paul-brown-beats/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">spine of New Orleans bounce music\u003c/a>. Houston’s DJ Screw, who passed away in 2000, recorded a session in his home studio with Texas-born Oaklander Spice 1, and was known to feature plenty of Bay Area rap songs on his influential “Grey Tape” cassette mixes. Mike Dean, who produced for Houston’s Rap-A-Lot Records, crafted beats for \u003cem>Stackin Chips\u003c/em>, the 1997 debut album of Keak Da Sneak’s group 3X Krazy, and Bay Area artists like Yukmouth (whose Smoke-A-Lot Records is distributed by Rap-A-Lot), Seagram and producer Tone Capone recorded for the label in the ’90s and early aughts.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Just outside of Houston in Port Arthur, Chad “Pimp C” Butler of UGK shared a close friendship and musical camaraderie with Too Short. In 2007, the night before he died, Pimp C appeared onstage at Too Short’s show at the now-defunct House of Blues on the Sunset Strip, according to Julia Beverly’s biography \u003cem>Sweet Jones: Pimp C’s Trill Life Story\u003c/em>. In what’s said to be \u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JK3HLJk8iMY\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">his final interview\u003c/a>, Pimp C credited the Oakland legend for his career longevity: “I just follow what Too Short told me. He told me ‘Don’t Stop Rappin’.’ I just kept on making the kind of records that the people down where I live at like.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Outkast, whose Andre 3000 has acknowledged the Bay Area as a notable early influence, broadcast an alternative rap sound out of Atlanta in the ’90s. “I have to — I \u003cem>have\u003c/em> to — give a shout to the Hieroglyphics crew and Souls Of Mischief, because as kids we were hugely influenced by them,” Andre 3000 told \u003ca href=\"https://www.npr.org/sections/microphonecheck/2014/09/26/351559126/andre-3000-you-can-do-anything-from-atlanta\">NPR’s \u003cem>Microphone Check\u003c/em>\u003c/a> in 2014. And Outkast’s Big Boi was just as direct about another Bay Area influence: “One of my favorite rappers happens to be Too Short,” he rapped on the 2010 track “Fo Yo Sorrows.”\u003c/p>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003cspan class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__embedYoutube'>\n \u003cspan class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__embedYoutubeInside'>\n \u003ciframe\n loading='lazy'\n class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__youtubePlayer'\n type='text/html'\n src='//www.youtube.com/embed/qsUSlR7tTEs'\n title='//www.youtube.com/embed/qsUSlR7tTEs'\n allowfullscreen='true'\n style='border:0;'>\u003c/iframe>\n \u003c/span>\n \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003cp>Later, as trap music began to fill the Southern streets, a Bay Area-bred producer helped develop its sound and take it to the national airwaves.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Xavier “Zaytoven” Dotson was born to a military family in Germany and spent his formative years in San Francisco before joining his parents in Atlanta, where a giant, free basement studio at their new Georgia home beckoned. Within a year, when he wasn’t away from the studio playing organ for his parents’ church, Zaytoven produced Gucci Mane’s breakout 2005 hit “Icy.” Word quickly got around the proverbial trap that Zaytoven’s basement was \u003cem>the\u003c/em> place to record, and his client list grew to include Future, Usher, Travis Scott, the late Young Dolph and many others.\u003c/p>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003cspan class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__embedYoutube'>\n \u003cspan class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__embedYoutubeInside'>\n \u003ciframe\n loading='lazy'\n class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__youtubePlayer'\n type='text/html'\n src='//www.youtube.com/embed/Io6D5tAK8Ks'\n title='//www.youtube.com/embed/Io6D5tAK8Ks'\n allowfullscreen='true'\n style='border:0;'>\u003c/iframe>\n \u003c/span>\n \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003cp>“Even though it’s with artists from the South, you can hear, you can see where the sound came from: that’s Bay Area music all day long,” Zaytoven said of “Icy” in a \u003ca href=\"https://youtu.be/jrbRSK0Dkfw\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">2018 interview with \u003cem>The Sana G Morning Show\u003c/em>\u003c/a> on KMEL. “[The Bay] still has a funky instrumentation sound to it, so even when I’m in the South making just gutter beats, I still got them melodic sounds going on. That’s what attached me to the Bay Area so much. … I definitely try to represent the Bay every time I get. This is where I got my game from!”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In 2021, the producer returned to his local roots and worked with EMPIRE to release the compilation \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13895586/a-salute-to-san-francisco-rap\">\u003cem>Zaytoven Presents: Fo15\u003c/em>\u003c/a> on April 15 (or 415 Day, in homage to San Francisco’s area code). Up-and-coming San Francisco artists on the collection included Lil Bean, Lil Pete, Lil Yee, KxNG Llama, Prezi and ZayBang — proving that the Bay Area-South pipeline is far from running dry.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“I was molded in San Francisco, California,” Zaytoven added in his KMEL interview. “That’s why I represent the Bay Area.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13925986\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13925986\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/03/GettyImages-1186811732-800x534.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"534\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/03/GettyImages-1186811732-800x534.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/03/GettyImages-1186811732-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/03/GettyImages-1186811732-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/03/GettyImages-1186811732-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/03/GettyImages-1186811732.jpg 1024w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Zaytoven performs at AfroTech 2019 at Oakland Marriott City Center on Nov. 9, 2019. \u003ccite>(Robin L Marshall/Getty Images for AfroTech)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003ch2>A cultural and philanthropic exchange\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>Beyond business and beats, Northern California has made an imprint on the South’s cultural institutions thanks to philanthropy and outreach from artists like Tupac and E-40. Though Tupac is considered a West Coast icon, surprisingly, Too Short called him “the heartbeat of the South” when I interviewed him in 2004.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“I used to be at the club and the DJ would put on records off \u003cem>Makaveli\u003c/em> because \u003cem>Makaveli\u003c/em> came out right after Pac died,” said Too Short, who lived in Atlanta in the mid-’90s. “You would swear that nigga was on stage! The whole damn crowd be singing every word. It would be like a concert, and he ain’t even there.” \u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
"attributes": {
"named": {},
"numeric": []
}
},
{
"type": "component",
"content": "",
"name": "aside",
"attributes": {
"named": {
"postid": "arts_13924126,arts_13924224,arts_13925177",
"label": ""
},
"numeric": []
}
},
{
"type": "contentString",
"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Towards the end of his life, Tupac \u003ca href=\"https://people.com/archive/all-eyes-on-her-vol-48-no-22/\">moved his mother Afeni Shakur\u003c/a> (who was originally from North Carolina) to Stone Mountain, Georgia, a suburb near Atlanta where he purchased his first home. Afeni operated the Tupac Amaru Shakur Center for the Arts in the former Confederate town from 2005 to 2015. It was an extension of the annual PACamp that Afeni started in 1997 as a free summer arts program for youth ages 12–18.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>When I visited the arts center a few months after its opening, I was struck by a statue of Tupac in the Peace Garden, which represented how he might have looked had he been allowed to grow older. It was remarkable that Tupac’s legacy was housed in Georgia instead of the Bay Area or Los Angeles. And his influence resonated beyond the Peach State throughout the South.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“I just saw how much of an influence Tupac had on Master P and No Limit, how much of an influence Tupac had on the whole city of Atlanta, Georgia and on Houston, Texas, and just how much influence on that whole ‘\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J90bUNuJ20k\">Bankhead [Bounce]\u003c/a>’ and getting crunk certain songs off \u003cem>Makaveli\u003c/em> had on that shit,” Too Short said. “Tupac was so much crunk — his shit was so crunk as far as what crunk meant, you know what I’m saying? He was a part of it even though he had just passed away. But he was a part of it. The \u003cem>Makaveli\u003c/em> album was in it. It was in the scene.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13925976\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 766px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13925976\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/03/Tupac-Statue-By-Tamara-Palmer.jpeg\" alt=\"\" width=\"766\" height=\"1024\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/03/Tupac-Statue-By-Tamara-Palmer.jpeg 766w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/03/Tupac-Statue-By-Tamara-Palmer-160x214.jpeg 160w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 766px) 100vw, 766px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">The Tupac statue at the Tupac Amaru Shakur Center for the Arts in Stone Mountain, Georgia in 2006. \u003ccite>(Tamara Palmer)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Two decades after the Tupac Amaru Shakur Center opened, E-40 would make his own impact on a southern state by investing in its young artists. The veteran rapper still has family in Texas and Louisiana, and studied at Grambling State University in Louisiana for a year. Although he didn’t complete his degree there, he made a lasting contribution with \u003ca href=\"https://www.complex.com/music/e40-100k-donation-hbcu-alma-mater-grambling\">his $100,000 donation\u003c/a> to the university’s marching band and music program, which now boasts the brand-new Earl “E-40” Stevens Sound Recording Studio on campus.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“Music is my passion,” E-40 said while presenting the check in February 2023. “Music is therapeutic and healing.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The South wasn’t just where E-40 spent formative years as a young musician. It also influenced a key part of his artistry: his slang, much of which he has invented himself over the years. “Of course, I don’t make up all the fuckin’ words in the world, but I make up at least 75% of the shit I say,” said E-40 in a 2004 \u003cem>Murder Dog\u003c/em> interview. “The other 25%, I get words from down South, choppin’ it up with my folks down South.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The familial, cultural and business ties between the Bay Area and the South are strong and diverse, and have been for generations. It’s time to appreciate and nurture these bonds. And the beat goes on: as this back-and-forth flow of influence continues to percolate behind the scenes, the future is looking rather funky.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter size-medium wp-image-11687704\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2016/06/Turntable.Break_-800x60.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"60\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/06/Turntable.Break_.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/06/Turntable.Break_-400x30.jpg 400w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/06/Turntable.Break_-768x58.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
"attributes": {
"named": {},
"numeric": []
}
},
{
"type": "component",
"content": "",
"name": "ad",
"attributes": {
"named": {
"label": "floatright"
},
"numeric": [
"floatright"
]
}
},
{
"type": "contentString",
"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>\u003ca href=\"http://www.thetamarapalmer.com/\">Tamara Palmer\u003c/a> is a DJ and the author of \u003c/em>\u003ca href=\"https://www.amazon.com/Country-Fried-Soul-Adventures-Hip-Hop/dp/0879308575\">Country Fried Soul: Adventures in Dirty South Hip-Hop\u003c/a>\u003cem> (Backbeat Books, 2005). She’s currently working on a personal rap anthology called \u003c/em>California Love\u003cem>\u003cem>.\u003c/em>\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>",
"attributes": {
"named": {},
"numeric": []
}
}
],
"link": "/arts/13925958/bay-area-west-coast-south-rap-hip-hop-master-p-no-limit",
"authors": [
"5111"
],
"series": [
"arts_22314"
],
"categories": [
"arts_1",
"arts_69"
],
"tags": [
"arts_1601",
"arts_10342",
"arts_10278",
"arts_831",
"arts_974",
"arts_19347",
"arts_3478",
"arts_6903",
"arts_4269"
],
"featImg": "arts_13926019",
"label": "source_arts_13925958"
},
"arts_13925761": {
"type": "posts",
"id": "arts_13925761",
"meta": {
"index": "posts_1716263798",
"site": "arts",
"id": "13925761",
"score": null,
"sort": [
1677702223000
]
},
"guestAuthors": [],
"slug": "magic-mike-richmond-calvin-t-rap-hip-hop",
"title": "Real Talk With Richmond Rap Pioneer Magic Mike",
"publishDate": 1677702223,
"format": "video",
"headTitle": "Real Talk With Richmond Rap Pioneer Magic Mike | KQED",
"labelTerm": {},
"content": "\u003cp>\u003cem>\u003cstrong>Editor’s note\u003c/strong>: This story is part of \u003c/em>\u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/bayareahiphop\">That’s My Word\u003c/a>\u003cem>, KQED’s year-long exploration of Bay Area hip-hop history, with new content dropping all throughout 2023.\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Magic Mike is a Bay Area legend. In the early 1980s, before record label contracts were feasible for rap artists, Magic Mike and his partner Calvin T made their own homemade tapes and sold them on the street. What \u003ca href=\"http://www.kqed.org/bayareahiphop/timeline#too-short-and-freddy-b-start-making-handmade-tapes\">Too Short and Freddy B were to Oakland\u003c/a>, Magic Mike and Calvin T were to Richmond. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>When we decided to \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13923938/thats-my-word-intro\">spend a year chronicling Bay Area hip-hop history for our series \u003cem>That’s My Word\u003c/em>\u003c/a>, we knew Magic Mike had to be in the mix. Thankfully, our compatriot in Bay Area history \u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/dregs_one/\">Dregs One\u003c/a> recently sat down with Magic Mike for an in-depth interview for his \u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLrcnRVZo1Y9S-8xIlv8knxRcYwCqsu1OC\">\u003cem>History of the Bay\u003c/em> podcast\u003c/a>, which you can watch above. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>What follows is a frank, honest discussion about rapping, hustling, pimping, prison, and the sometimes violent world of the streets in the 1980s. Years before N.W.A. and the rise of “reality rap,” Magic Mike and Calvin T put it all on tape, right here in the Bay Area.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>As Magic Mike explains, he has regrets, especially around his treatment of women. While Too Short rapped about what he was seeing; Magic Mike rapped about what he was living. And, at a pivotal time when other rappers from the Bay Area were getting signed to major label deals, Magic Mike and Calvin T’s chances were repeatedly derailed by incarceration. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Watch the interview above, and find select excerpts below, edited for length and clarity.\u003cem>—Gabe Meline\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13925763\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/03/MagicMike.MAIN_-800x450.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"450\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13925763\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/03/MagicMike.MAIN_-800x450.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/03/MagicMike.MAIN_-1020x574.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/03/MagicMike.MAIN_-160x90.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/03/MagicMike.MAIN_-768x432.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/03/MagicMike.MAIN_-1536x864.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/03/MagicMike.MAIN_.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Magic Mike, interviewed by Dregs One, in a February 2023 podcast episode of ‘History of the Bay.’ \u003ccite>(Courtesy Dregs One)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>DREGS ONE: What made you run away from home when you were 14?\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>MAGIC MIKE\u003c/b>: I ran away from my mother’s house, two weeks before my 14th birthday, and started pimping. My mama came home one night and find a female in the house, and she said, “Get this tramp out my house.” I’m like, “Mama, she ain’t a tramp, she a young lady.” And she was just, “Get this tramp about my house.” I was gonna walk her home. “She live across the tracks, it’s dark, mama!” My mama said, “You leave out this house, boy, don’t come back.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>I’m a Capricorn. I’m stubborn. I never came back, bro. And before she died, she told me I broke her heart because I never came back. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>So you left home that night with your female friend.\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>And never came back. I started stayin’ with her and her mama until that played out, and then I told her, like, “We need some money.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>I was the youngest pimp from Richmond ever. Let’s put it like that. We ain’t talking about hanging around pimps — we’re talking about a 14-year old \u003cem>child\u003c/em> sending out grown whores. That’s how I got turned out. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>And you became a little heartless after that.\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Completely. Completely heartless. Like, \u003cem>completely\u003c/em> heartless. I’m not gonna sugar-coat it.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>And then older dudes took a liking to me. They like, “You raw, we like you, Magic! And you’s rappin’ this shit too? Come on an’ ride with us, boy — get you somethin’ else to rap about!” ‘Cause me and Calvin T, all we’re doin’ is rapping what we livin’ and what we seein’ — we’re around pimps and hustlers and dope boys. So that’s all we rappin’ about, from 1982 on up, when we were in Juvenile Hall together. And by 1983, Calvin T and Magic Mike tapes was circulating.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13925767\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/03/MagicMike.inline-800x450.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"450\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13925767\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/03/MagicMike.inline-800x450.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/03/MagicMike.inline-1020x574.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/03/MagicMike.inline-160x90.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/03/MagicMike.inline-768x432.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/03/MagicMike.inline-1536x864.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/03/MagicMike.inline.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Magic Mike, interviewed by Dregs One, 2023. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Dregs One)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>When you and Calvin T were in Juvenile Hall together, did you make a plan for when you got out?\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Calvin T went home before me. We had all this planned. “I’m going to continue to write in here, I’m going to mail it to you, spit this shit and get ’em used to it.” That lasted for like two months. And when I came home, Calvin had it crackin’. He had a little equipment with the little Casio keyboard, the beat machine, and the cassette tape for dubbing. He was ready! In Juvenile Hall, we was just spittin’ acapella. But when I came home, he already had the old-school Casio beats.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>So y’all figure, “Alright, we’re gonna record tapes and start slangin’ ’em.” How does that idea come?\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>At first we dubbed just four or five tapes. Calvin’s house was on the hill, and we walked down the hill, three or four blocks to the little gas station in South Richmond — we didn’t even get past the gas station. The tapes was gone. So we had to bust a U and walk right back up the hill and dub some more tapes. So now we’re like, “We’ll do 10-15 tapes.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>So those tapes was movin’ from Richmond to Vallejo, to Oakland…\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>To everywhere! Pimp C, Rest in Peace — Bun B once said Magic Mike and Calvin T was one of UGK’s first influences [in Texas]. Cats was going to the military, to Germany, takin’ tapes with ’em. Or one dope boy would go to Vallejo to serve another dope boy, like “What you listenin’ to?” “That’s that Magic Mike and Calvin T!” They stealin’ that, and they gonna dub it. So young Mac Malls, and young Mac Dres, and young E-40s and B-Legits is hearin’ it. Those tapes went everywhere, man.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>So in 1989, on your first official tape, you have the tracks “\u003ca href=\"https://youtu.be/P4H1pYVuFjM\">Nine Hoes Deep\u003c/a>,” “Pimp Pimp,” and “Get With My Pimpin’, Bitch.”\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>If you listen to that shit, bro, that’s how I was livin’. Man, I go back and listen to that, I’m like, “I don’t want my son to hear this shit.” \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>It was the devil. Don’t get it twisted. We proclaimed it to be game, but that ain’t game, man. Any time you gotta abuse anything, that ain’t game. I was wildin’ out, I was rebelling. Anything a grown man was doin’ in the ’80s, my young ass was doin’. Fifths of Hennessy, motel rooms, hot tubs, cocaine, weed, everything… at 14-15 years old. I’m like, “the fuck?”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>But that’s what makes it raw. Even though you can make it sound fun and entertaining on a record, it’s still comin’ from a real place. \u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>But see, now, fast-forward 40 years later, I’m in a dilemma. Because part of my fanbase wants me to be OG Magic Mike and spit that pimp shit. But \u003cem>this\u003c/em> Magic Mike in 2023 been married for 19 years, and got daughters and granddaughters. You feel me? I’m not livin’ that. It wouldn’t be authentic. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>What do you think the most important lesson you learned from the pimp game would be?\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>If I knew then what I know now, I would have \u003cem>never\u003c/em> been in that phase. I would have never abused a woman, put my hands on a woman, manipulated a woman — never. Because I realize that a woman, that’s our bone, that’s my life, that’s my breath… I wish I never would have abused a woman, ’cause now I look back and a woman is all I got. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad floatright]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2016/06/Turntable.Break_-800x60.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"60\" class=\"aligncenter size-medium wp-image-11687704\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/06/Turntable.Break_.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/06/Turntable.Break_-400x30.jpg 400w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/06/Turntable.Break_-768x58.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003c/p>\n\n",
"blocks": [],
"excerpt": "An interview with the rapper behind blunt tales of teenage pimp life, recorded on early hand-made tapes with Calvin T.",
"status": "publish",
"parent": 0,
"modified": 1726791198,
"stats": {
"hasAudio": false,
"hasVideo": false,
"hasChartOrMap": false,
"iframeSrcs": [],
"hasGoogleForm": false,
"hasGallery": false,
"hasHearkenModule": false,
"hasPolis": false,
"paragraphCount": 31,
"wordCount": 1378
},
"headData": {
"title": "Magic Mike: A Frank, Wide-Ranging Conversation With the Richmond Rap Pioneer | KQED",
"description": "An interview with the rapper behind blunt tales of teenage pimp life, recorded on early hand-made tapes with Calvin T.",
"ogTitle": "",
"ogDescription": "",
"ogImgId": "",
"twTitle": "",
"twDescription": "",
"twImgId": "",
"socialTitle": "Magic Mike: A Frank, Wide-Ranging Conversation With the Richmond Rap Pioneer %%page%% %%sep%% KQED",
"schema": {
"@context": "https://schema.org",
"@type": "Article",
"headline": "Real Talk With Richmond Rap Pioneer Magic Mike",
"datePublished": "2023-03-01T12:23:43-08:00",
"dateModified": "2024-09-19T17:13:18-07:00",
"image": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/02/KQED-OG-Image@1x.png"
}
},
"videoEmbed": "https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sbPLQG6AWdo",
"source": "That's My Word",
"sourceUrl": "https://www.kqed.org/bayareahiphop",
"sticky": false,
"nprByline": "Dregs One and Gabe Meline",
"templateType": "standard",
"featuredImageType": "standard",
"excludeFromSiteSearch": "Include",
"showOnAuthorArchivePages": "No",
"articleAge": "0",
"path": "/arts/13925761/magic-mike-richmond-calvin-t-rap-hip-hop",
"audioTrackLength": null,
"parsedContent": [
{
"type": "contentString",
"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp>\u003cem>\u003cstrong>Editor’s note\u003c/strong>: This story is part of \u003c/em>\u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/bayareahiphop\">That’s My Word\u003c/a>\u003cem>, KQED’s year-long exploration of Bay Area hip-hop history, with new content dropping all throughout 2023.\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Magic Mike is a Bay Area legend. In the early 1980s, before record label contracts were feasible for rap artists, Magic Mike and his partner Calvin T made their own homemade tapes and sold them on the street. What \u003ca href=\"http://www.kqed.org/bayareahiphop/timeline#too-short-and-freddy-b-start-making-handmade-tapes\">Too Short and Freddy B were to Oakland\u003c/a>, Magic Mike and Calvin T were to Richmond. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>When we decided to \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13923938/thats-my-word-intro\">spend a year chronicling Bay Area hip-hop history for our series \u003cem>That’s My Word\u003c/em>\u003c/a>, we knew Magic Mike had to be in the mix. Thankfully, our compatriot in Bay Area history \u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/dregs_one/\">Dregs One\u003c/a> recently sat down with Magic Mike for an in-depth interview for his \u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLrcnRVZo1Y9S-8xIlv8knxRcYwCqsu1OC\">\u003cem>History of the Bay\u003c/em> podcast\u003c/a>, which you can watch above. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>What follows is a frank, honest discussion about rapping, hustling, pimping, prison, and the sometimes violent world of the streets in the 1980s. Years before N.W.A. and the rise of “reality rap,” Magic Mike and Calvin T put it all on tape, right here in the Bay Area.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>As Magic Mike explains, he has regrets, especially around his treatment of women. While Too Short rapped about what he was seeing; Magic Mike rapped about what he was living. And, at a pivotal time when other rappers from the Bay Area were getting signed to major label deals, Magic Mike and Calvin T’s chances were repeatedly derailed by incarceration. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
"attributes": {
"named": {},
"numeric": []
}
},
{
"type": "component",
"content": "",
"name": "ad",
"attributes": {
"named": {
"label": "fullwidth"
},
"numeric": [
"fullwidth"
]
}
},
{
"type": "contentString",
"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Watch the interview above, and find select excerpts below, edited for length and clarity.\u003cem>—Gabe Meline\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13925763\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/03/MagicMike.MAIN_-800x450.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"450\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13925763\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/03/MagicMike.MAIN_-800x450.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/03/MagicMike.MAIN_-1020x574.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/03/MagicMike.MAIN_-160x90.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/03/MagicMike.MAIN_-768x432.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/03/MagicMike.MAIN_-1536x864.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/03/MagicMike.MAIN_.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Magic Mike, interviewed by Dregs One, in a February 2023 podcast episode of ‘History of the Bay.’ \u003ccite>(Courtesy Dregs One)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>DREGS ONE: What made you run away from home when you were 14?\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>MAGIC MIKE\u003c/b>: I ran away from my mother’s house, two weeks before my 14th birthday, and started pimping. My mama came home one night and find a female in the house, and she said, “Get this tramp out my house.” I’m like, “Mama, she ain’t a tramp, she a young lady.” And she was just, “Get this tramp about my house.” I was gonna walk her home. “She live across the tracks, it’s dark, mama!” My mama said, “You leave out this house, boy, don’t come back.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>I’m a Capricorn. I’m stubborn. I never came back, bro. And before she died, she told me I broke her heart because I never came back. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>So you left home that night with your female friend.\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>And never came back. I started stayin’ with her and her mama until that played out, and then I told her, like, “We need some money.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>I was the youngest pimp from Richmond ever. Let’s put it like that. We ain’t talking about hanging around pimps — we’re talking about a 14-year old \u003cem>child\u003c/em> sending out grown whores. That’s how I got turned out. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>And you became a little heartless after that.\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Completely. Completely heartless. Like, \u003cem>completely\u003c/em> heartless. I’m not gonna sugar-coat it.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>And then older dudes took a liking to me. They like, “You raw, we like you, Magic! And you’s rappin’ this shit too? Come on an’ ride with us, boy — get you somethin’ else to rap about!” ‘Cause me and Calvin T, all we’re doin’ is rapping what we livin’ and what we seein’ — we’re around pimps and hustlers and dope boys. So that’s all we rappin’ about, from 1982 on up, when we were in Juvenile Hall together. And by 1983, Calvin T and Magic Mike tapes was circulating.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13925767\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2023/03/MagicMike.inline-800x450.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"450\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13925767\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/03/MagicMike.inline-800x450.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/03/MagicMike.inline-1020x574.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/03/MagicMike.inline-160x90.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/03/MagicMike.inline-768x432.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/03/MagicMike.inline-1536x864.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/03/MagicMike.inline.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Magic Mike, interviewed by Dregs One, 2023. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Dregs One)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>When you and Calvin T were in Juvenile Hall together, did you make a plan for when you got out?\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Calvin T went home before me. We had all this planned. “I’m going to continue to write in here, I’m going to mail it to you, spit this shit and get ’em used to it.” That lasted for like two months. And when I came home, Calvin had it crackin’. He had a little equipment with the little Casio keyboard, the beat machine, and the cassette tape for dubbing. He was ready! In Juvenile Hall, we was just spittin’ acapella. But when I came home, he already had the old-school Casio beats.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>So y’all figure, “Alright, we’re gonna record tapes and start slangin’ ’em.” How does that idea come?\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>At first we dubbed just four or five tapes. Calvin’s house was on the hill, and we walked down the hill, three or four blocks to the little gas station in South Richmond — we didn’t even get past the gas station. The tapes was gone. So we had to bust a U and walk right back up the hill and dub some more tapes. So now we’re like, “We’ll do 10-15 tapes.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>So those tapes was movin’ from Richmond to Vallejo, to Oakland…\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>To everywhere! Pimp C, Rest in Peace — Bun B once said Magic Mike and Calvin T was one of UGK’s first influences [in Texas]. Cats was going to the military, to Germany, takin’ tapes with ’em. Or one dope boy would go to Vallejo to serve another dope boy, like “What you listenin’ to?” “That’s that Magic Mike and Calvin T!” They stealin’ that, and they gonna dub it. So young Mac Malls, and young Mac Dres, and young E-40s and B-Legits is hearin’ it. Those tapes went everywhere, man.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>So in 1989, on your first official tape, you have the tracks “\u003ca href=\"https://youtu.be/P4H1pYVuFjM\">Nine Hoes Deep\u003c/a>,” “Pimp Pimp,” and “Get With My Pimpin’, Bitch.”\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>If you listen to that shit, bro, that’s how I was livin’. Man, I go back and listen to that, I’m like, “I don’t want my son to hear this shit.” \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>It was the devil. Don’t get it twisted. We proclaimed it to be game, but that ain’t game, man. Any time you gotta abuse anything, that ain’t game. I was wildin’ out, I was rebelling. Anything a grown man was doin’ in the ’80s, my young ass was doin’. Fifths of Hennessy, motel rooms, hot tubs, cocaine, weed, everything… at 14-15 years old. I’m like, “the fuck?”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>But that’s what makes it raw. Even though you can make it sound fun and entertaining on a record, it’s still comin’ from a real place. \u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>But see, now, fast-forward 40 years later, I’m in a dilemma. Because part of my fanbase wants me to be OG Magic Mike and spit that pimp shit. But \u003cem>this\u003c/em> Magic Mike in 2023 been married for 19 years, and got daughters and granddaughters. You feel me? I’m not livin’ that. It wouldn’t be authentic. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>What do you think the most important lesson you learned from the pimp game would be?\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>If I knew then what I know now, I would have \u003cem>never\u003c/em> been in that phase. I would have never abused a woman, put my hands on a woman, manipulated a woman — never. Because I realize that a woman, that’s our bone, that’s my life, that’s my breath… I wish I never would have abused a woman, ’cause now I look back and a woman is all I got. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
"attributes": {
"named": {},
"numeric": []
}
},
{
"type": "component",
"content": "",
"name": "ad",
"attributes": {
"named": {
"label": "floatright"
},
"numeric": [
"floatright"
]
}
},
{
"type": "contentString",
"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2016/06/Turntable.Break_-800x60.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"60\" class=\"aligncenter size-medium wp-image-11687704\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/06/Turntable.Break_.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/06/Turntable.Break_-400x30.jpg 400w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/06/Turntable.Break_-768x58.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003c/p>\n\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>",
"attributes": {
"named": {},
"numeric": []
}
}
],
"link": "/arts/13925761/magic-mike-richmond-calvin-t-rap-hip-hop",
"authors": [
"byline_arts_13925761"
],
"series": [
"arts_22314"
],
"categories": [
"arts_1",
"arts_69"
],
"tags": [
"arts_10278",
"arts_831",
"arts_2640",
"arts_1526",
"arts_2479",
"arts_19347",
"arts_3478"
],
"featImg": "arts_13925763",
"label": "source_arts_13925761"
}
},
"podcastsReducer": {
"isFetching": false,
"fetchFailed": false,
"hasFetched": false,
"podcasts": {}
},
"radioProgramsReducer": {
"isFetching": false,
"fetchFailed": false,
"hasFetched": false,
"radioPrograms": {}
},
"programsReducer": {
"all-things-considered": {
"id": "all-things-considered",
"title": "All Things Considered",
"info": "Every weekday, \u003cem>All Things Considered\u003c/em> hosts Robert Siegel, Audie Cornish, Ari Shapiro, and Kelly McEvers present the program's trademark mix of news, interviews, commentaries, reviews, and offbeat features. Michel Martin hosts on the weekends.",
"airtime": "MON-FRI 1pm-2pm, 4:30pm-6:30pm\u003cbr />SAT-SUN 5pm-6pm",
"imageSrc": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/04/All-Things-Considered-Podcast-Tile-360x360-1.jpg",
"officialWebsiteLink": "https://www.npr.org/programs/all-things-considered/",
"meta": {
"site": "news",
"source": "npr"
},
"link": "/radio/program/all-things-considered"
},
"american-suburb-podcast": {
"id": "american-suburb-podcast",
"title": "American Suburb: The Podcast",
"tagline": "The flip side of gentrification, told through one town",
"info": "Gentrification is changing cities across America, forcing people from neighborhoods they have long called home. Call them the displaced. Now those priced out of the Bay Area are looking for a better life in an unlikely place. American Suburb follows this migration to one California town along the Delta, 45 miles from San Francisco. But is this once sleepy suburb ready for them?",
"imageSrc": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/04/American-Suburb-Podcast-Tile-703x703-1.jpg",
"officialWebsiteLink": "/news/series/american-suburb-podcast",
"meta": {
"site": "news",
"source": "kqed",
"order": 19
},
"link": "/news/series/american-suburb-podcast/",
"subscribe": {
"npr": "https://rpb3r.app.goo.gl/RBrW",
"apple": "https://itunes.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewPodcast?mt=2&id=1287748328",
"tuneIn": "https://tunein.com/radio/American-Suburb-p1086805/",
"rss": "https://ww2.kqed.org/news/series/american-suburb-podcast/feed/podcast",
"google": "https://podcasts.google.com/feed/aHR0cHM6Ly9mZWVkcy5tZWdhcGhvbmUuZm0vS1FJTkMzMDExODgxNjA5"
}
},
"baycurious": {
"id": "baycurious",
"title": "Bay Curious",
"tagline": "Exploring the Bay Area, one question at a time",
"info": "KQED’s new podcast, Bay Curious, gets to the bottom of the mysteries — both profound and peculiar — that give the Bay Area its unique identity. And we’ll do it with your help! You ask the questions. You decide what Bay Curious investigates. And you join us on the journey to find the answers.",
"imageSrc": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/04/Bay-Curious-Podcast-Tile-703x703-1.jpg",
"imageAlt": "KQED Bay Curious",
"officialWebsiteLink": "/news/series/baycurious",
"meta": {
"site": "news",
"source": "kqed",
"order": 3
},
"link": "/podcasts/baycurious",
"subscribe": {
"apple": "https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/bay-curious/id1172473406",
"npr": "https://www.npr.org/podcasts/500557090/bay-curious",
"rss": "https://ww2.kqed.org/news/category/bay-curious-podcast/feed/podcast",
"amazon": "https://music.amazon.com/podcasts/9a90d476-aa04-455d-9a4c-0871ed6216d4/bay-curious",
"stitcher": "https://www.stitcher.com/podcast/kqed/bay-curious",
"spotify": "https://open.spotify.com/show/6O76IdmhixfijmhTZLIJ8k"
}
},
"bbc-world-service": {
"id": "bbc-world-service",
"title": "BBC World Service",
"info": "The day's top stories from BBC News compiled twice daily in the week, once at weekends.",
"airtime": "MON-FRI 9pm-10pm, TUE-FRI 1am-2am",
"imageSrc": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/04/BBC-World-Service-Podcast-Tile-360x360-1.jpg",
"officialWebsiteLink": "https://www.bbc.co.uk/sounds/play/live:bbc_world_service",
"meta": {
"site": "news",
"source": "BBC World Service"
},
"link": "/radio/program/bbc-world-service",
"subscribe": {
"apple": "https://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/global-news-podcast/id135067274?mt=2",
"tuneIn": "https://tunein.com/radio/BBC-World-Service-p455581/",
"rss": "https://podcasts.files.bbci.co.uk/p02nq0gn.rss"
}
},
"californiareport": {
"id": "californiareport",
"title": "The California Report",
"tagline": "California, day by day",
"info": "KQED’s statewide radio news program providing daily coverage of issues, trends and public policy decisions.",
"imageSrc": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/04/The-California-Report-Podcast-Tile-703x703-1.jpg",
"imageAlt": "KQED The California Report",
"officialWebsiteLink": "/californiareport",
"meta": {
"site": "news",
"source": "kqed",
"order": 8
},
"link": "/californiareport",
"subscribe": {
"apple": "https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/kqeds-the-california-report/id79681292",
"amazon": "https://music.amazon.com/podcasts/26099305-72af-4542-9dde-ac1807fe36d5/kqed-s-the-california-report",
"npr": "https://www.npr.org/podcasts/432285393/the-california-report",
"stitcher": "https://www.stitcher.com/podcast/kqedfm-kqeds-the-california-report-podcast-8838",
"rss": "https://ww2.kqed.org/news/tag/tcram/feed/podcast"
}
},
"californiareportmagazine": {
"id": "californiareportmagazine",
"title": "The California Report Magazine",
"tagline": "Your state, your stories",
"info": "Every week, The California Report Magazine takes you on a road trip for the ears: to visit the places and meet the people who make California unique. The in-depth storytelling podcast from the California Report.",
"airtime": "FRI 4:30pm-5pm, 6:30pm-7pm, 11pm-11:30pm",
"imageSrc": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/04/The-California-Report-Magazine-Podcast-Tile-703x703-1.jpg",
"imageAlt": "KQED The California Report Magazine",
"officialWebsiteLink": "/californiareportmagazine",
"meta": {
"site": "news",
"source": "kqed",
"order": 10
},
"link": "/californiareportmagazine",
"subscribe": {
"apple": "https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/the-california-report-magazine/id1314750545",
"google": "https://podcasts.google.com/feed/aHR0cHM6Ly9mZWVkcy5tZWdhcGhvbmUuZm0vS1FJTkM3NjkwNjk1OTAz",
"npr": "https://www.npr.org/podcasts/564733126/the-california-report-magazine",
"stitcher": "https://www.stitcher.com/podcast/kqed/the-california-report-magazine",
"rss": "https://ww2.kqed.org/news/tag/tcrmag/feed/podcast"
}
},
"city-arts": {
"id": "city-arts",
"title": "City Arts & Lectures",
"info": "A one-hour radio program to hear celebrated writers, artists and thinkers address contemporary ideas and values, often discussing the creative process. Please note: tapes or transcripts are not available",
"imageSrc": "https://ww2.kqed.org/radio/wp-content/uploads/sites/50/2018/05/cityartsandlecture-300x300.jpg",
"officialWebsiteLink": "https://www.cityarts.net/",
"airtime": "SUN 1pm-2pm, TUE 10pm, WED 1am",
"meta": {
"site": "news",
"source": "City Arts & Lectures"
},
"link": "https://www.cityarts.net",
"subscribe": {
"tuneIn": "https://tunein.com/radio/City-Arts-and-Lectures-p692/",
"rss": "https://www.cityarts.net/feed/"
}
},
"closealltabs": {
"id": "closealltabs",
"title": "Close All Tabs",
"tagline": "Your irreverent guide to the trends redefining our world",
"info": "Close All Tabs breaks down how digital culture shapes our world through thoughtful insights and irreverent humor.",
"imageSrc": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2025/02/CAT_2_Tile-scaled.jpg",
"imageAlt": "KQED Close All Tabs",
"officialWebsiteLink": "/podcasts/closealltabs",
"meta": {
"site": "news",
"source": "kqed",
"order": 1
},
"link": "/podcasts/closealltabs",
"subscribe": {
"apple": "https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/close-all-tabs/id214663465",
"rss": "https://feeds.megaphone.fm/KQINC6993880386",
"amazon": "https://music.amazon.com/podcasts/92d9d4ac-67a3-4eed-b10a-fb45d45b1ef2/close-all-tabs",
"spotify": "https://open.spotify.com/show/6LAJFHnGK1pYXYzv6SIol6?si=deb0cae19813417c"
}
},
"code-switch-life-kit": {
"id": "code-switch-life-kit",
"title": "Code Switch / Life Kit",
"info": "\u003cem>Code Switch\u003c/em>, which listeners will hear in the first part of the hour, has fearless and much-needed conversations about race. Hosted by journalists of color, the show tackles the subject of race head-on, exploring how it impacts every part of society — from politics and pop culture to history, sports and more.\u003cbr />\u003cbr />\u003cem>Life Kit\u003c/em>, which will be in the second part of the hour, guides you through spaces and feelings no one prepares you for — from finances to mental health, from workplace microaggressions to imposter syndrome, from relationships to parenting. The show features experts with real world experience and shares their knowledge. Because everyone needs a little help being human.\u003cbr />\u003cbr />\u003ca href=\"https://www.npr.org/podcasts/510312/codeswitch\">\u003cem>Code Switch\u003c/em> offical site and podcast\u003c/a>\u003cbr />\u003ca href=\"https://www.npr.org/lifekit\">\u003cem>Life Kit\u003c/em> offical site and podcast\u003c/a>\u003cbr />",
"airtime": "SUN 9pm-10pm",
"imageSrc": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/04/Code-Switch-Life-Kit-Podcast-Tile-360x360-1.jpg",
"meta": {
"site": "radio",
"source": "npr"
},
"link": "/radio/program/code-switch-life-kit",
"subscribe": {
"apple": "https://podcasts.apple.com/podcast/1112190608?mt=2&at=11l79Y&ct=nprdirectory",
"google": "https://podcasts.google.com/feed/aHR0cHM6Ly93d3cubnByLm9yZy9yc3MvcG9kY2FzdC5waHA_aWQ9NTEwMzEy",
"spotify": "https://open.spotify.com/show/3bExJ9JQpkwNhoHvaIIuyV",
"rss": "https://feeds.npr.org/510312/podcast.xml"
}
},
"commonwealth-club": {
"id": "commonwealth-club",
"title": "Commonwealth Club of California Podcast",
"info": "The Commonwealth Club of California is the nation's oldest and largest public affairs forum. As a non-partisan forum, The Club brings to the public airwaves diverse viewpoints on important topics. The Club's weekly radio broadcast - the oldest in the U.S., dating back to 1924 - is carried across the nation on public radio stations and is now podcasting. Our website archive features audio of our recent programs, as well as selected speeches from our long and distinguished history. This podcast feed is usually updated twice a week and is always un-edited.",
"airtime": "THU 10pm, FRI 1am",
"imageSrc": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/04/Commonwealth-Club-Podcast-Tile-360x360-1.jpg",
"officialWebsiteLink": "https://www.commonwealthclub.org/podcasts",
"meta": {
"site": "news",
"source": "Commonwealth Club of California"
},
"link": "/radio/program/commonwealth-club",
"subscribe": {
"apple": "https://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/commonwealth-club-of-california-podcast/id976334034?mt=2",
"google": "https://podcasts.google.com/feed/aHR0cDovL3d3dy5jb21tb253ZWFsdGhjbHViLm9yZy9hdWRpby9wb2RjYXN0L3dlZWtseS54bWw",
"tuneIn": "https://tunein.com/radio/Commonwealth-Club-of-California-p1060/"
}
},
"forum": {
"id": "forum",
"title": "Forum",
"tagline": "The conversation starts here",
"info": "KQED’s live call-in program discussing local, state, national and international issues, as well as in-depth interviews.",
"airtime": "MON-FRI 9am-11am, 10pm-11pm",
"imageSrc": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/04/Forum-Podcast-Tile-703x703-1.jpg",
"imageAlt": "KQED Forum with Mina Kim and Alexis Madrigal",
"officialWebsiteLink": "/forum",
"meta": {
"site": "news",
"source": "kqed",
"order": 9
},
"link": "/forum",
"subscribe": {
"apple": "https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/kqeds-forum/id73329719",
"google": "https://podcasts.google.com/feed/aHR0cHM6Ly9mZWVkcy5tZWdhcGhvbmUuZm0vS1FJTkM5NTU3MzgxNjMz",
"npr": "https://www.npr.org/podcasts/432307980/forum",
"stitcher": "https://www.stitcher.com/podcast/kqedfm-kqeds-forum-podcast",
"rss": "https://feeds.megaphone.fm/KQINC9557381633"
}
},
"freakonomics-radio": {
"id": "freakonomics-radio",
"title": "Freakonomics Radio",
"info": "Freakonomics Radio is a one-hour award-winning podcast and public-radio project hosted by Stephen Dubner, with co-author Steve Levitt as a regular guest. It is produced in partnership with WNYC.",
"imageSrc": "https://ww2.kqed.org/news/wp-content/uploads/sites/10/2018/05/freakonomicsRadio.png",
"officialWebsiteLink": "http://freakonomics.com/",
"airtime": "SUN 1am-2am, SAT 3pm-4pm",
"meta": {
"site": "radio",
"source": "WNYC"
},
"link": "/radio/program/freakonomics-radio",
"subscribe": {
"npr": "https://rpb3r.app.goo.gl/4s8b",
"apple": "https://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/freakonomics-radio/id354668519",
"tuneIn": "https://tunein.com/podcasts/WNYC-Podcasts/Freakonomics-Radio-p272293/",
"rss": "https://feeds.feedburner.com/freakonomicsradio"
}
},
"fresh-air": {
"id": "fresh-air",
"title": "Fresh Air",
"info": "Hosted by Terry Gross, \u003cem>Fresh Air from WHYY\u003c/em> is the Peabody Award-winning weekday magazine of contemporary arts and issues. One of public radio's most popular programs, Fresh Air features intimate conversations with today's biggest luminaries.",
"airtime": "MON-FRI 7pm-8pm",
"imageSrc": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/04/Fresh-Air-Podcast-Tile-360x360-1.jpg",
"officialWebsiteLink": "https://www.npr.org/programs/fresh-air/",
"meta": {
"site": "radio",
"source": "npr"
},
"link": "/radio/program/fresh-air",
"subscribe": {
"npr": "https://rpb3r.app.goo.gl/4s8b",
"apple": "https://itunes.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewPodcast?s=143441&mt=2&id=214089682&at=11l79Y&ct=nprdirectory",
"tuneIn": "https://tunein.com/radio/Fresh-Air-p17/",
"rss": "https://feeds.npr.org/381444908/podcast.xml"
}
},
"here-and-now": {
"id": "here-and-now",
"title": "Here & Now",
"info": "A live production of NPR and WBUR Boston, in collaboration with stations across the country, Here & Now reflects the fluid world of news as it's happening in the middle of the day, with timely, in-depth news, interviews and conversation. Hosted by Robin Young, Jeremy Hobson and Tonya Mosley.",
"airtime": "MON-THU 11am-12pm",
"imageSrc": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/04/Here-And-Now-Podcast-Tile-360x360-1.jpg",
"officialWebsiteLink": "http://www.wbur.org/hereandnow",
"meta": {
"site": "news",
"source": "npr"
},
"link": "/radio/program/here-and-now",
"subsdcribe": {
"apple": "https://itunes.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewPodcast?mt=2&id=426698661",
"tuneIn": "https://tunein.com/radio/Here--Now-p211/",
"rss": "https://feeds.npr.org/510051/podcast.xml"
}
},
"hidden-brain": {
"id": "hidden-brain",
"title": "Hidden Brain",
"info": "Shankar Vedantam uses science and storytelling to reveal the unconscious patterns that drive human behavior, shape our choices and direct our relationships.",
"imageSrc": "https://ww2.kqed.org/radio/wp-content/uploads/sites/50/2018/05/hiddenbrain.jpg",
"officialWebsiteLink": "https://www.npr.org/series/423302056/hidden-brain",
"airtime": "SUN 7pm-8pm",
"meta": {
"site": "news",
"source": "NPR"
},
"link": "/radio/program/hidden-brain",
"subscribe": {
"apple": "https://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/hidden-brain/id1028908750?mt=2",
"tuneIn": "https://tunein.com/podcasts/Science-Podcasts/Hidden-Brain-p787503/",
"rss": "https://feeds.npr.org/510308/podcast.xml"
}
},
"how-i-built-this": {
"id": "how-i-built-this",
"title": "How I Built This with Guy Raz",
"info": "Guy Raz dives into the stories behind some of the world's best known companies. How I Built This weaves a narrative journey about innovators, entrepreneurs and idealists—and the movements they built.",
"imageSrc": "https://ww2.kqed.org/news/wp-content/uploads/sites/10/2018/05/howIBuiltThis.png",
"officialWebsiteLink": "https://www.npr.org/podcasts/510313/how-i-built-this",
"airtime": "SUN 7:30pm-8pm",
"meta": {
"site": "news",
"source": "npr"
},
"link": "/radio/program/how-i-built-this",
"subscribe": {
"npr": "https://rpb3r.app.goo.gl/3zxy",
"apple": "https://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/how-i-built-this-with-guy-raz/id1150510297?mt=2",
"tuneIn": "https://tunein.com/podcasts/Arts--Culture-Podcasts/How-I-Built-This-p910896/",
"rss": "https://feeds.npr.org/510313/podcast.xml"
}
},
"hyphenacion": {
"id": "hyphenacion",
"title": "Hyphenación",
"tagline": "Where conversation and cultura meet",
"info": "What kind of no sabo word is Hyphenación? For us, it’s about living within a hyphenation. Like being a third-gen Mexican-American from the Texas border now living that Bay Area Chicano life. Like Xorje! Each week we bring together a couple of hyphenated Latinos to talk all about personal life choices: family, careers, relationships, belonging … everything is on the table. ",
"imageSrc": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2025/03/Hyphenacion_FinalAssets_PodcastTile.png",
"imageAlt": "KQED Hyphenación",
"officialWebsiteLink": "/podcasts/hyphenacion",
"meta": {
"site": "news",
"source": "kqed",
"order": 15
},
"link": "/podcasts/hyphenacion",
"subscribe": {
"apple": "https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/hyphenaci%C3%B3n/id1191591838",
"spotify": "https://open.spotify.com/show/2p3Fifq96nw9BPcmFdIq0o?si=39209f7b25774f38",
"youtube": "https://www.youtube.com/c/kqedarts",
"amazon": "https://music.amazon.com/podcasts/6c3dd23c-93fb-4aab-97ba-1725fa6315f1/hyphenaci%C3%B3n",
"rss": "https://feeds.megaphone.fm/KQINC2275451163"
}
},
"jerrybrown": {
"id": "jerrybrown",
"title": "The Political Mind of Jerry Brown",
"tagline": "Lessons from a lifetime in politics",
"info": "The Political Mind of Jerry Brown brings listeners the wisdom of the former Governor, Mayor, and presidential candidate. Scott Shafer interviewed Brown for more than 40 hours, covering the former governor's life and half-century in the political game and Brown has some lessons he'd like to share. ",
"imageSrc": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/04/The-Political-Mind-of-Jerry-Brown-Podcast-Tile-703x703-1.jpg",
"imageAlt": "KQED The Political Mind of Jerry Brown",
"officialWebsiteLink": "/podcasts/jerrybrown",
"meta": {
"site": "news",
"source": "kqed",
"order": 18
},
"link": "/podcasts/jerrybrown",
"subscribe": {
"npr": "https://www.npr.org/podcasts/790253322/the-political-mind-of-jerry-brown",
"apple": "https://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/id1492194549",
"rss": "https://ww2.kqed.org/news/series/jerrybrown/feed/podcast/",
"tuneIn": "http://tun.in/pjGcK",
"stitcher": "https://www.stitcher.com/podcast/kqed/the-political-mind-of-jerry-brown",
"spotify": "https://open.spotify.com/show/54C1dmuyFyKMFttY6X2j6r?si=K8SgRCoISNK6ZbjpXrX5-w",
"amazon": "https://music.amazon.com/podcasts/44420f75-3b0e-4301-ab3b-16da6b09e543/the-political-mind-of-jerry-brown"
}
},
"latino-usa": {
"id": "latino-usa",
"title": "Latino USA",
"airtime": "MON 1am-2am, SUN 6pm-7pm",
"info": "Latino USA, the radio journal of news and culture, is the only national, English-language radio program produced from a Latino perspective.",
"imageSrc": "https://ww2.kqed.org/radio/wp-content/uploads/sites/50/2018/04/latinoUsa.jpg",
"officialWebsiteLink": "http://latinousa.org/",
"meta": {
"site": "news",
"source": "npr"
},
"link": "/radio/program/latino-usa",
"subscribe": {
"npr": "https://rpb3r.app.goo.gl/xtTd",
"apple": "https://itunes.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewPodcast?s=143441&mt=2&id=79681317&at=11l79Y&ct=nprdirectory",
"tuneIn": "https://tunein.com/radio/Latino-USA-p621/",
"rss": "https://feeds.npr.org/510016/podcast.xml"
}
},
"marketplace": {
"id": "marketplace",
"title": "Marketplace",
"info": "Our flagship program, helmed by Kai Ryssdal, examines what the day in money delivered, through stories, conversations, newsworthy numbers and more. Updated Monday through Friday at about 3:30 p.m. PT.",
"airtime": "MON-FRI 4pm-4:30pm, MON-WED 6:30pm-7pm",
"imageSrc": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/04/Marketplace-Podcast-Tile-360x360-1.jpg",
"officialWebsiteLink": "https://www.marketplace.org/",
"meta": {
"site": "news",
"source": "American Public Media"
},
"link": "/radio/program/marketplace",
"subscribe": {
"apple": "https://itunes.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewPodcast?s=143441&mt=2&id=201853034&at=11l79Y&ct=nprdirectory",
"tuneIn": "https://tunein.com/radio/APM-Marketplace-p88/",
"rss": "https://feeds.publicradio.org/public_feeds/marketplace-pm/rss/rss"
}
},
"masters-of-scale": {
"id": "masters-of-scale",
"title": "Masters of Scale",
"info": "Masters of Scale is an original podcast in which LinkedIn co-founder and Greylock Partner Reid Hoffman sets out to describe and prove theories that explain how great entrepreneurs take their companies from zero to a gazillion in ingenious fashion.",
"airtime": "Every other Wednesday June 12 through October 16 at 8pm (repeats Thursdays at 2am)",
"imageSrc": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/04/Masters-of-Scale-Podcast-Tile-360x360-1.jpg",
"officialWebsiteLink": "https://mastersofscale.com/",
"meta": {
"site": "radio",
"source": "WaitWhat"
},
"link": "/radio/program/masters-of-scale",
"subscribe": {
"apple": "http://mastersofscale.app.link/",
"rss": "https://rss.art19.com/masters-of-scale"
}
},
"mindshift": {
"id": "mindshift",
"title": "MindShift",
"tagline": "A podcast about the future of learning and how we raise our kids",
"info": "The MindShift podcast explores the innovations in education that are shaping how kids learn. Hosts Ki Sung and Katrina Schwartz introduce listeners to educators, researchers, parents and students who are developing effective ways to improve how kids learn. We cover topics like how fed-up administrators are developing surprising tactics to deal with classroom disruptions; how listening to podcasts are helping kids develop reading skills; the consequences of overparenting; and why interdisciplinary learning can engage students on all ends of the traditional achievement spectrum. This podcast is part of the MindShift education site, a division of KQED News. KQED is an NPR/PBS member station based in San Francisco. You can also visit the MindShift website for episodes and supplemental blog posts or tweet us \u003ca href=\"https://twitter.com/MindShiftKQED\">@MindShiftKQED\u003c/a> or visit us at \u003ca href=\"/mindshift\">MindShift.KQED.org\u003c/a>",
"imageSrc": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/04/Mindshift-Podcast-Tile-703x703-1.jpg",
"imageAlt": "KQED MindShift: How We Will Learn",
"officialWebsiteLink": "/mindshift/",
"meta": {
"site": "news",
"source": "kqed",
"order": 12
},
"link": "/podcasts/mindshift",
"subscribe": {
"apple": "https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/mindshift-podcast/id1078765985",
"google": "https://podcasts.google.com/feed/aHR0cHM6Ly9mZWVkcy5tZWdhcGhvbmUuZm0vS1FJTkM1NzY0NjAwNDI5",
"npr": "https://www.npr.org/podcasts/464615685/mind-shift-podcast",
"stitcher": "https://www.stitcher.com/podcast/kqed/stories-teachers-share",
"spotify": "https://open.spotify.com/show/0MxSpNYZKNprFLCl7eEtyx"
}
},
"morning-edition": {
"id": "morning-edition",
"title": "Morning Edition",
"info": "\u003cem>Morning Edition\u003c/em> takes listeners around the country and the world with multi-faceted stories and commentaries every weekday. Hosts Steve Inskeep, David Greene and Rachel Martin bring you the latest breaking news and features to prepare you for the day.",
"airtime": "MON-FRI 3am-9am",
"imageSrc": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/04/Morning-Edition-Podcast-Tile-360x360-1.jpg",
"officialWebsiteLink": "https://www.npr.org/programs/morning-edition/",
"meta": {
"site": "news",
"source": "npr"
},
"link": "/radio/program/morning-edition"
},
"onourwatch": {
"id": "onourwatch",
"title": "On Our Watch",
"tagline": "Deeply-reported investigative journalism",
"info": "For decades, the process for how police police themselves has been inconsistent – if not opaque. In some states, like California, these proceedings were completely hidden. After a new police transparency law unsealed scores of internal affairs files, our reporters set out to examine these cases and the shadow world of police discipline. On Our Watch brings listeners into the rooms where officers are questioned and witnesses are interrogated to find out who this system is really protecting. Is it the officers, or the public they've sworn to serve?",
"imageSrc": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/04/On-Our-Watch-Podcast-Tile-703x703-1.jpg",
"imageAlt": "On Our Watch from NPR and KQED",
"officialWebsiteLink": "/podcasts/onourwatch",
"meta": {
"site": "news",
"source": "kqed",
"order": 11
},
"link": "/podcasts/onourwatch",
"subscribe": {
"apple": "https://podcasts.apple.com/podcast/id1567098962",
"google": "https://podcasts.google.com/feed/aHR0cHM6Ly9mZWVkcy5ucHIub3JnLzUxMDM2MC9wb2RjYXN0LnhtbD9zYz1nb29nbGVwb2RjYXN0cw",
"npr": "https://rpb3r.app.goo.gl/onourwatch",
"spotify": "https://open.spotify.com/show/0OLWoyizopu6tY1XiuX70x",
"tuneIn": "https://tunein.com/radio/On-Our-Watch-p1436229/",
"stitcher": "https://www.stitcher.com/show/on-our-watch",
"rss": "https://feeds.npr.org/510360/podcast.xml"
}
},
"on-the-media": {
"id": "on-the-media",
"title": "On The Media",
"info": "Our weekly podcast explores how the media 'sausage' is made, casts an incisive eye on fluctuations in the marketplace of ideas, and examines threats to the freedom of information and expression in America and abroad. For one hour a week, the show tries to lift the veil from the process of \"making media,\" especially news media, because it's through that lens that we see the world and the world sees us",
"airtime": "SUN 2pm-3pm, MON 12am-1am",
"imageSrc": "https://ww2.kqed.org/radio/wp-content/uploads/sites/50/2018/04/onTheMedia.png",
"officialWebsiteLink": "https://www.wnycstudios.org/shows/otm",
"meta": {
"site": "news",
"source": "wnyc"
},
"link": "/radio/program/on-the-media",
"subscribe": {
"apple": "https://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/on-the-media/id73330715?mt=2",
"tuneIn": "https://tunein.com/radio/On-the-Media-p69/",
"rss": "http://feeds.wnyc.org/onthemedia"
}
},
"pbs-newshour": {
"id": "pbs-newshour",
"title": "PBS NewsHour",
"info": "Analysis, background reports and updates from the PBS NewsHour putting today's news in context.",
"airtime": "MON-FRI 3pm-4pm",
"imageSrc": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/04/PBS-News-Hour-Podcast-Tile-360x360-1.jpg",
"officialWebsiteLink": "https://www.pbs.org/newshour/",
"meta": {
"site": "news",
"source": "pbs"
},
"link": "/radio/program/pbs-newshour",
"subscribe": {
"apple": "https://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/pbs-newshour-full-show/id394432287?mt=2",
"tuneIn": "https://tunein.com/radio/PBS-NewsHour---Full-Show-p425698/",
"rss": "https://www.pbs.org/newshour/feeds/rss/podcasts/show"
}
},
"perspectives": {
"id": "perspectives",
"title": "Perspectives",
"tagline": "KQED's series of daily listener commentaries since 1991",
"info": "KQED's series of daily listener commentaries since 1991.",
"imageSrc": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2025/01/Perspectives_Tile_Final.jpg",
"imageAlt": "KQED Perspectives",
"officialWebsiteLink": "/perspectives/",
"meta": {
"site": "radio",
"source": "kqed",
"order": 14
},
"link": "/perspectives",
"subscribe": {
"apple": "https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/id73801135",
"npr": "https://www.npr.org/podcasts/432309616/perspectives",
"rss": "https://ww2.kqed.org/perspectives/category/perspectives/feed/",
"google": "https://podcasts.google.com/feed/aHR0cHM6Ly93dzIua3FlZC5vcmcvcGVyc3BlY3RpdmVzL2NhdGVnb3J5L3BlcnNwZWN0aXZlcy9mZWVkLw"
}
},
"planet-money": {
"id": "planet-money",
"title": "Planet Money",
"info": "The economy explained. Imagine you could call up a friend and say, Meet me at the bar and tell me what's going on with the economy. Now imagine that's actually a fun evening.",
"airtime": "SUN 3pm-4pm",
"imageSrc": "https://ww2.kqed.org/radio/wp-content/uploads/sites/50/2018/04/planetmoney.jpg",
"officialWebsiteLink": "https://www.npr.org/sections/money/",
"meta": {
"site": "news",
"source": "npr"
},
"link": "/radio/program/planet-money",
"subscribe": {
"npr": "https://rpb3r.app.goo.gl/M4f5",
"apple": "https://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/planet-money/id290783428?mt=2",
"tuneIn": "https://tunein.com/podcasts/Business--Economics-Podcasts/Planet-Money-p164680/",
"rss": "https://feeds.npr.org/510289/podcast.xml"
}
},
"politicalbreakdown": {
"id": "politicalbreakdown",
"title": "Political Breakdown",
"tagline": "Politics from a personal perspective",
"info": "Political Breakdown is a new series that explores the political intersection of California and the nation. Each week hosts Scott Shafer and Marisa Lagos are joined with a new special guest to unpack politics -- with personality — and offer an insider’s glimpse at how politics happens.",
"airtime": "THU 6:30pm-7pm",
"imageSrc": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/04/Political-Breakdown-2024-Podcast-Tile-703x703-1.jpg",
"imageAlt": "KQED Political Breakdown",
"officialWebsiteLink": "/podcasts/politicalbreakdown",
"meta": {
"site": "radio",
"source": "kqed",
"order": 5
},
"link": "/podcasts/politicalbreakdown",
"subscribe": {
"apple": "https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/political-breakdown/id1327641087",
"amazon": "https://music.amazon.com/podcasts/e0c2d153-ad36-4c8d-901d-f1da6a724824/political-breakdown",
"npr": "https://www.npr.org/podcasts/572155894/political-breakdown",
"stitcher": "https://www.stitcher.com/podcast/kqed/political-breakdown",
"spotify": "https://open.spotify.com/show/07RVyIjIdk2WDuVehvBMoN",
"rss": "https://ww2.kqed.org/news/tag/political-breakdown/feed/podcast"
}
},
"possible": {
"id": "possible",
"title": "Possible",
"info": "Possible is hosted by entrepreneur Reid Hoffman and writer Aria Finger. Together in Possible, Hoffman and Finger lead enlightening discussions about building a brighter collective future. The show features interviews with visionary guests like Trevor Noah, Sam Altman and Janette Sadik-Khan. Possible paints an optimistic portrait of the world we can create through science, policy, business, art and our shared humanity. It asks: What if everything goes right for once? How can we get there? Each episode also includes a short fiction story generated by advanced AI GPT-4, serving as a thought-provoking springboard to speculate how humanity could leverage technology for good.",
"airtime": "SUN 2pm",
"imageSrc": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/04/Possible-Podcast-Tile-360x360-1.jpg",
"officialWebsiteLink": "https://www.possible.fm/",
"meta": {
"site": "news",
"source": "Possible"
},
"link": "/radio/program/possible",
"subscribe": {
"apple": "https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/possible/id1677184070",
"spotify": "https://open.spotify.com/show/730YpdUSNlMyPQwNnyjp4k"
}
},
"pri-the-world": {
"id": "pri-the-world",
"title": "PRI's The World: Latest Edition",
"info": "Each weekday, host Marco Werman and his team of producers bring you the world's most interesting stories in an hour of radio that reminds us just how small our planet really is.",
"airtime": "MON-FRI 2pm-3pm",
"imageSrc": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/04/The-World-Podcast-Tile-360x360-1.jpg",
"officialWebsiteLink": "https://www.pri.org/programs/the-world",
"meta": {
"site": "news",
"source": "PRI"
},
"link": "/radio/program/pri-the-world",
"subscribe": {
"apple": "https://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/pris-the-world-latest-edition/id278196007?mt=2",
"tuneIn": "https://tunein.com/podcasts/News--Politics-Podcasts/PRIs-The-World-p24/",
"rss": "http://feeds.feedburner.com/pri/theworld"
}
},
"radiolab": {
"id": "radiolab",
"title": "Radiolab",
"info": "A two-time Peabody Award-winner, Radiolab is an investigation told through sounds and stories, and centered around one big idea. In the Radiolab world, information sounds like music and science and culture collide. Hosted by Jad Abumrad and Robert Krulwich, the show is designed for listeners who demand skepticism, but appreciate wonder. WNYC Studios is the producer of other leading podcasts including Freakonomics Radio, Death, Sex & Money, On the Media and many more.",
"airtime": "SUN 12am-1am, SAT 2pm-3pm",
"imageSrc": "https://ww2.kqed.org/radio/wp-content/uploads/sites/50/2018/04/radiolab1400.png",
"officialWebsiteLink": "https://www.wnycstudios.org/shows/radiolab/",
"meta": {
"site": "science",
"source": "WNYC"
},
"link": "/radio/program/radiolab",
"subscribe": {
"apple": "https://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/radiolab/id152249110?mt=2",
"tuneIn": "https://tunein.com/radio/RadioLab-p68032/",
"rss": "https://feeds.wnyc.org/radiolab"
}
},
"reveal": {
"id": "reveal",
"title": "Reveal",
"info": "Created by The Center for Investigative Reporting and PRX, Reveal is public radios first one-hour weekly radio show and podcast dedicated to investigative reporting. Credible, fact based and without a partisan agenda, Reveal combines the power and artistry of driveway moment storytelling with data-rich reporting on critically important issues. The result is stories that inform and inspire, arming our listeners with information to right injustices, hold the powerful accountable and improve lives.Reveal is hosted by Al Letson and showcases the award-winning work of CIR and newsrooms large and small across the nation. In a radio and podcast market crowded with choices, Reveal focuses on important and often surprising stories that illuminate the world for our listeners.",
"airtime": "SAT 4pm-5pm",
"imageSrc": "https://ww2.kqed.org/radio/wp-content/uploads/sites/50/2018/04/reveal300px.png",
"officialWebsiteLink": "https://www.revealnews.org/episodes/",
"meta": {
"site": "news",
"source": "npr"
},
"link": "/radio/program/reveal",
"subscribe": {
"apple": "https://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/reveal/id886009669",
"tuneIn": "https://tunein.com/radio/Reveal-p679597/",
"rss": "http://feeds.revealradio.org/revealpodcast"
}
},
"rightnowish": {
"id": "rightnowish",
"title": "Rightnowish",
"tagline": "Art is where you find it",
"info": "Rightnowish digs into life in the Bay Area right now… ish. Journalist Pendarvis Harshaw takes us to galleries painted on the sides of liquor stores in West Oakland. We'll dance in warehouses in the Bayview, make smoothies with kids in South Berkeley, and listen to classical music in a 1984 Cutlass Supreme in Richmond. Every week, Pen talks to movers and shakers about how the Bay Area shapes what they create, and how they shape the place we call home.",
"imageSrc": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/04/Rightnowish-Podcast-Tile-500x500-1.jpg",
"imageAlt": "KQED Rightnowish with Pendarvis Harshaw",
"officialWebsiteLink": "/podcasts/rightnowish",
"meta": {
"site": "arts",
"source": "kqed",
"order": 16
},
"link": "/podcasts/rightnowish",
"subscribe": {
"npr": "https://www.npr.org/podcasts/721590300/rightnowish",
"rss": "https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/programs/rightnowish/feed/podcast",
"apple": "https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/rightnowish/id1482187648",
"stitcher": "https://www.stitcher.com/podcast/kqed/rightnowish",
"google": "https://podcasts.google.com/feed/aHR0cHM6Ly9mZWVkcy5tZWdhcGhvbmUuZm0vS1FJTkMxMjU5MTY3NDc4",
"spotify": "https://open.spotify.com/show/7kEJuafTzTVan7B78ttz1I"
}
},
"science-friday": {
"id": "science-friday",
"title": "Science Friday",
"info": "Science Friday is a weekly science talk show, broadcast live over public radio stations nationwide. Each week, the show focuses on science topics that are in the news and tries to bring an educated, balanced discussion to bear on the scientific issues at hand. Panels of expert guests join host Ira Flatow, a veteran science journalist, to discuss science and to take questions from listeners during the call-in portion of the program.",
"airtime": "FRI 11am-1pm",
"imageSrc": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/04/Science-Friday-Podcast-Tile-360x360-1.jpg",
"officialWebsiteLink": "https://www.wnycstudios.org/shows/science-friday",
"meta": {
"site": "news",
"source": "npr"
},
"link": "/radio/program/science-friday",
"subscribe": {
"apple": "https://itunes.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewPodcast?s=143441&mt=2&id=73329284&at=11l79Y&ct=nprdirectory",
"tuneIn": "https://tunein.com/radio/Science-Friday-p394/",
"rss": "http://feeds.wnyc.org/science-friday"
}
},
"snap-judgment": {
"id": "snap-judgment",
"title": "Snap Judgment",
"tagline": "Real stories with killer beats",
"info": "The Snap Judgment radio show and podcast mixes real stories with killer beats to produce cinematic, dramatic radio. Snap's musical brand of storytelling dares listeners to see the world through the eyes of another. This is storytelling... with a BEAT!! Snap first aired on public radio stations nationwide in July 2010. Today, Snap Judgment airs on over 450 public radio stations and is brought to the airwaves by KQED & PRX.",
"airtime": "SAT 1pm-2pm, 9pm-10pm",
"imageSrc": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/05/Snap-Judgment-Podcast-Tile-703x703-1.jpg",
"imageAlt": "KQED Snap Judgment",
"officialWebsiteLink": "https://snapjudgment.org",
"meta": {
"site": "arts",
"source": "kqed",
"order": 4
},
"link": "https://snapjudgment.org",
"subscribe": {
"apple": "https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/snap-judgment/id283657561",
"npr": "https://www.npr.org/podcasts/449018144/snap-judgment",
"stitcher": "https://www.pandora.com/podcast/snap-judgment/PC:241?source=stitcher-sunset",
"spotify": "https://open.spotify.com/show/3Cct7ZWmxHNAtLgBTqjC5v",
"rss": "https://snap.feed.snapjudgment.org/"
}
},
"soldout": {
"id": "soldout",
"title": "SOLD OUT: Rethinking Housing in America",
"tagline": "A new future for housing",
"info": "Sold Out: Rethinking Housing in America",
"imageSrc": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/04/Sold-Out-Podcast-Tile-703x703-1.jpg",
"imageAlt": "KQED Sold Out: Rethinking Housing in America",
"officialWebsiteLink": "/podcasts/soldout",
"meta": {
"site": "news",
"source": "kqed",
"order": 13
},
"link": "/podcasts/soldout",
"subscribe": {
"npr": "https://www.npr.org/podcasts/911586047/s-o-l-d-o-u-t-a-new-future-for-housing",
"apple": "https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/introducing-sold-out-rethinking-housing-in-america/id1531354937",
"rss": "https://feeds.megaphone.fm/soldout",
"spotify": "https://open.spotify.com/show/38dTBSk2ISFoPiyYNoKn1X",
"stitcher": "https://www.stitcher.com/podcast/kqed/sold-out-rethinking-housing-in-america",
"tunein": "https://tunein.com/radio/SOLD-OUT-Rethinking-Housing-in-America-p1365871/"
}
},
"spooked": {
"id": "spooked",
"title": "Spooked",
"tagline": "True-life supernatural stories",
"info": "",
"imageSrc": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/10/Spooked-Podcast-Tile-703x703-1.jpg",
"imageAlt": "KQED Spooked",
"officialWebsiteLink": "https://spookedpodcast.org/",
"meta": {
"site": "news",
"source": "kqed",
"order": 7
},
"link": "https://spookedpodcast.org/",
"subscribe": {
"apple": "https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/spooked/id1279361017",
"npr": "https://www.npr.org/podcasts/549547848/snap-judgment-presents-spooked",
"spotify": "https://open.spotify.com/show/76571Rfl3m7PLJQZKQIGCT",
"rss": "https://feeds.simplecast.com/TBotaapn"
}
},
"tech-nation": {
"id": "tech-nation",
"title": "Tech Nation Radio Podcast",
"info": "Tech Nation is a weekly public radio program, hosted by Dr. Moira Gunn. Founded in 1993, it has grown from a simple interview show to a multi-faceted production, featuring conversations with noted technology and science leaders, and a weekly science and technology-related commentary.",
"airtime": "FRI 10pm",
"imageSrc": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/04/Tech-Nation-Radio-Podcast-Tile-360x360-1.jpg",
"officialWebsiteLink": "http://technation.podomatic.com/",
"meta": {
"site": "science",
"source": "Tech Nation Media"
},
"link": "/radio/program/tech-nation",
"subscribe": {
"rss": "https://technation.podomatic.com/rss2.xml"
}
},
"ted-radio-hour": {
"id": "ted-radio-hour",
"title": "TED Radio Hour",
"info": "The TED Radio Hour is a journey through fascinating ideas, astonishing inventions, fresh approaches to old problems, and new ways to think and create.",
"airtime": "SUN 3pm-4pm, SAT 10pm-11pm",
"imageSrc": "https://ww2.kqed.org/radio/wp-content/uploads/sites/50/2018/04/tedRadioHour.jpg",
"officialWebsiteLink": "https://www.npr.org/programs/ted-radio-hour/?showDate=2018-06-22",
"meta": {
"site": "news",
"source": "npr"
},
"link": "/radio/program/ted-radio-hour",
"subscribe": {
"npr": "https://rpb3r.app.goo.gl/8vsS",
"apple": "https://itunes.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewPodcast?s=143441&mt=2&id=523121474&at=11l79Y&ct=nprdirectory",
"tuneIn": "https://tunein.com/radio/TED-Radio-Hour-p418021/",
"rss": "https://feeds.npr.org/510298/podcast.xml"
}
},
"thebay": {
"id": "thebay",
"title": "The Bay",
"tagline": "Local news to keep you rooted",
"info": "Host Devin Katayama walks you through the biggest story of the day with reporters and newsmakers.",
"imageSrc": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/04/The-Bay-Podcast-Tile-703x703-1.jpg",
"imageAlt": "KQED The Bay",
"officialWebsiteLink": "/podcasts/thebay",
"meta": {
"site": "radio",
"source": "kqed",
"order": 2
},
"link": "/podcasts/thebay",
"subscribe": {
"apple": "https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/the-bay/id1350043452",
"amazon": "https://music.amazon.com/podcasts/d800ea4c-7a2c-42f2-b861-edaf78a5db0b/the-bay",
"npr": "https://www.npr.org/podcasts/586725995/the-bay",
"stitcher": "https://www.stitcher.com/podcast/kqed/the-bay",
"spotify": "https://open.spotify.com/show/4BIKBKIujizLHlIlBNaAqQ",
"rss": "https://feeds.megaphone.fm/KQINC8259786327"
}
},
"thelatest": {
"id": "thelatest",
"title": "The Latest",
"tagline": "Trusted local news in real time",
"info": "",
"imageSrc": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2025/05/The-Latest-2025-Podcast-Tile-703x703-1.jpg",
"imageAlt": "KQED The Latest",
"officialWebsiteLink": "/thelatest",
"meta": {
"site": "news",
"source": "kqed",
"order": 6
},
"link": "/thelatest",
"subscribe": {
"apple": "https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/the-latest-from-kqed/id1197721799",
"npr": "https://www.npr.org/podcasts/1257949365/the-latest-from-k-q-e-d",
"spotify": "https://open.spotify.com/show/5KIIXMgM9GTi5AepwOYvIZ?si=bd3053fec7244dba",
"rss": "https://feeds.megaphone.fm/KQINC9137121918"
}
},
"theleap": {
"id": "theleap",
"title": "The Leap",
"tagline": "What if you closed your eyes, and jumped?",
"info": "Stories about people making dramatic, risky changes, told by award-winning public radio reporter Judy Campbell.",
"imageSrc": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/04/The-Leap-Podcast-Tile-703x703-1.jpg",
"imageAlt": "KQED The Leap",
"officialWebsiteLink": "/podcasts/theleap",
"meta": {
"site": "news",
"source": "kqed",
"order": 17
},
"link": "/podcasts/theleap",
"subscribe": {
"apple": "https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/the-leap/id1046668171",
"npr": "https://www.npr.org/podcasts/447248267/the-leap",
"stitcher": "https://www.stitcher.com/podcast/kqed/the-leap",
"spotify": "https://open.spotify.com/show/3sSlVHHzU0ytLwuGs1SD1U",
"rss": "https://ww2.kqed.org/news/programs/the-leap/feed/podcast"
}
},
"the-moth-radio-hour": {
"id": "the-moth-radio-hour",
"title": "The Moth Radio Hour",
"info": "Since its launch in 1997, The Moth has presented thousands of true stories, told live and without notes, to standing-room-only crowds worldwide. Moth storytellers stand alone, under a spotlight, with only a microphone and a roomful of strangers. The storyteller and the audience embark on a high-wire act of shared experience which is both terrifying and exhilarating. Since 2008, The Moth podcast has featured many of our favorite stories told live on Moth stages around the country. For information on all of our programs and live events, visit themoth.org.",
"airtime": "SAT 8pm-9pm and SUN 11am-12pm",
"imageSrc": "https://ww2.kqed.org/radio/wp-content/uploads/sites/50/2018/04/theMoth.jpg",
"officialWebsiteLink": "https://themoth.org/",
"meta": {
"site": "arts",
"source": "prx"
},
"link": "/radio/program/the-moth-radio-hour",
"subscribe": {
"apple": "https://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/the-moth-podcast/id275699983?mt=2",
"tuneIn": "https://tunein.com/radio/The-Moth-p273888/",
"rss": "http://feeds.themoth.org/themothpodcast"
}
},
"the-new-yorker-radio-hour": {
"id": "the-new-yorker-radio-hour",
"title": "The New Yorker Radio Hour",
"info": "The New Yorker Radio Hour is a weekly program presented by the magazine's editor, David Remnick, and produced by WNYC Studios and The New Yorker. Each episode features a diverse mix of interviews, profiles, storytelling, and an occasional burst of humor inspired by the magazine, and shaped by its writers, artists, and editors. This isn't a radio version of a magazine, but something all its own, reflecting the rich possibilities of audio storytelling and conversation. Theme music for the show was composed and performed by Merrill Garbus of tUnE-YArDs.",
"airtime": "SAT 10am-11am",
"imageSrc": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/04/The-New-Yorker-Podcast-Tile-360x360-1.jpg",
"officialWebsiteLink": "https://www.wnycstudios.org/shows/tnyradiohour",
"meta": {
"site": "arts",
"source": "WNYC"
},
"link": "/radio/program/the-new-yorker-radio-hour",
"subscribe": {
"apple": "https://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/id1050430296",
"tuneIn": "https://tunein.com/podcasts/WNYC-Podcasts/New-Yorker-Radio-Hour-p803804/",
"rss": "https://feeds.feedburner.com/newyorkerradiohour"
}
},
"the-sam-sanders-show": {
"id": "the-sam-sanders-show",
"title": "The Sam Sanders Show",
"info": "One of public radio's most dynamic voices, Sam Sanders helped launch The NPR Politics Podcast and hosted NPR's hit show It's Been A Minute. Now, the award-winning host returns with something brand new, The Sam Sanders Show. Every week, Sam Sanders and friends dig into the culture that shapes our lives: what's driving the biggest trends, how artists really think, and even the memes you can't stop scrolling past. Sam is beloved for his way of unpacking the world and bringing you up close to fresh currents and engaging conversations. The Sam Sanders Show is smart, funny and always a good time.",
"airtime": "FRI 12-1pm AND SAT 11am-12pm",
"imageSrc": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2025/11/The-Sam-Sanders-Show-Podcast-Tile-400x400-1.jpg",
"officialWebsiteLink": "https://www.kcrw.com/shows/the-sam-sanders-show/latest",
"meta": {
"site": "arts",
"source": "KCRW"
},
"link": "https://www.kcrw.com/shows/the-sam-sanders-show/latest",
"subscribe": {
"rss": "https://feed.cdnstream1.com/zjb/feed/download/ac/28/59/ac28594c-e1d0-4231-8728-61865cdc80e8.xml"
}
},
"the-splendid-table": {
"id": "the-splendid-table",
"title": "The Splendid Table",
"info": "\u003cem>The Splendid Table\u003c/em> hosts our nation's conversations about cooking, sustainability and food culture.",
"imageSrc": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/04/The-Splendid-Table-Podcast-Tile-360x360-1.jpg",
"officialWebsiteLink": "https://www.splendidtable.org/",
"airtime": "SUN 10-11 pm",
"meta": {
"site": "radio",
"source": "npr"
},
"link": "/radio/program/the-splendid-table"
},
"this-american-life": {
"id": "this-american-life",
"title": "This American Life",
"info": "This American Life is a weekly public radio show, heard by 2.2 million people on more than 500 stations. Another 2.5 million people download the weekly podcast. It is hosted by Ira Glass, produced in collaboration with Chicago Public Media, delivered to stations by PRX The Public Radio Exchange, and has won all of the major broadcasting awards.",
"airtime": "SAT 12pm-1pm, 7pm-8pm",
"imageSrc": "https://ww2.kqed.org/radio/wp-content/uploads/sites/50/2018/04/thisAmericanLife.png",
"officialWebsiteLink": "https://www.thisamericanlife.org/",
"meta": {
"site": "news",
"source": "wbez"
},
"link": "/radio/program/this-american-life",
"subscribe": {
"apple": "https://itunes.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewPodcast?s=143441&mt=2&id=201671138&at=11l79Y&ct=nprdirectory",
"rss": "https://www.thisamericanlife.org/podcast/rss.xml"
}
},
"tinydeskradio": {
"id": "tinydeskradio",
"title": "Tiny Desk Radio",
"info": "We're bringing the best of Tiny Desk to the airwaves, only on public radio.",
"airtime": "SUN 8pm and SAT 9pm",
"imageSrc": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2025/04/300x300-For-Member-Station-Logo-Tiny-Desk-Radio-@2x.png",
"officialWebsiteLink": "https://www.npr.org/series/g-s1-52030/tiny-desk-radio",
"meta": {
"site": "news",
"source": "npr"
},
"link": "/radio/program/tinydeskradio",
"subscribe": {
"rss": "https://feeds.npr.org/g-s1-52030/rss.xml"
}
},
"wait-wait-dont-tell-me": {
"id": "wait-wait-dont-tell-me",
"title": "Wait Wait... Don't Tell Me!",
"info": "Peter Sagal and Bill Kurtis host the weekly NPR News quiz show alongside some of the best and brightest news and entertainment personalities.",
"airtime": "SUN 10am-11am, SAT 11am-12pm, SAT 6pm-7pm",
"imageSrc": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/04/Wait-Wait-Podcast-Tile-300x300-1.jpg",
"officialWebsiteLink": "https://www.npr.org/programs/wait-wait-dont-tell-me/",
"meta": {
"site": "news",
"source": "npr"
},
"link": "/radio/program/wait-wait-dont-tell-me",
"subscribe": {
"npr": "https://rpb3r.app.goo.gl/Xogv",
"apple": "https://itunes.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewPodcast?s=143441&mt=2&id=121493804&at=11l79Y&ct=nprdirectory",
"tuneIn": "https://tunein.com/radio/Wait-Wait-Dont-Tell-Me-p46/",
"rss": "https://feeds.npr.org/344098539/podcast.xml"
}
},
"weekend-edition-saturday": {
"id": "weekend-edition-saturday",
"title": "Weekend Edition Saturday",
"info": "Weekend Edition Saturday wraps up the week's news and offers a mix of analysis and features on a wide range of topics, including arts, sports, entertainment, and human interest stories. The two-hour program is hosted by NPR's Peabody Award-winning Scott Simon.",
"airtime": "SAT 5am-10am",
"imageSrc": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/04/Weekend-Edition-Podcast-Tile-360x360-1.jpg",
"officialWebsiteLink": "https://www.npr.org/programs/weekend-edition-saturday/",
"meta": {
"site": "news",
"source": "npr"
},
"link": "/radio/program/weekend-edition-saturday"
},
"weekend-edition-sunday": {
"id": "weekend-edition-sunday",
"title": "Weekend Edition Sunday",
"info": "Weekend Edition Sunday features interviews with newsmakers, artists, scientists, politicians, musicians, writers, theologians and historians. The program has covered news events from Nelson Mandela's 1990 release from a South African prison to the capture of Saddam Hussein.",
"airtime": "SUN 5am-10am",
"imageSrc": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/04/Weekend-Edition-Podcast-Tile-360x360-1.jpg",
"officialWebsiteLink": "https://www.npr.org/programs/weekend-edition-sunday/",
"meta": {
"site": "news",
"source": "npr"
},
"link": "/radio/program/weekend-edition-sunday"
}
},
"racesReducer": {},
"racesGenElectionReducer": {},
"racesGenElection2026Reducer": {},
"radioSchedulesReducer": {},
"listsReducer": {
"posts/arts?tag=too-short": {
"isFetching": false,
"latestQuery": {
"from": 12,
"size": 12
},
"vitalsOnly": false,
"totalRequested": 12,
"isLoading": false,
"isLoadingMore": true,
"total": {
"value": 41,
"relation": "eq"
},
"items": [
"arts_13939056",
"arts_13936776",
"arts_13935441",
"arts_13934874",
"arts_13932753",
"arts_13931355",
"arts_13930886",
"arts_13930908",
"arts_13929861",
"arts_13927349",
"arts_13925958",
"arts_13925761"
],
"complete": true
}
},
"recallGuideReducer": {
"intros": {},
"policy": {},
"candidates": {}
},
"savedArticleReducer": {
"articles": [],
"status": {}
},
"newslettersReducer": {
"isFetching": false,
"fetchFailed": false,
"hasFetched": false,
"newsletters": {},
"isSubscribing": false,
"isUnsubscribing": false,
"subscribedNewsletters": {}
},
"termsReducer": {
"about": {
"name": "About",
"type": "terms",
"id": "about",
"slug": "about",
"link": "/about",
"taxonomy": "site"
},
"arts": {
"name": "Arts & Culture",
"grouping": [
"arts",
"pop",
"trulyca"
],
"description": "KQED Arts provides daily in-depth coverage of the Bay Area's music, art, film, performing arts, literature and arts news, as well as cultural commentary and criticism.",
"type": "terms",
"id": "arts",
"slug": "arts",
"link": "/arts",
"taxonomy": "site"
},
"artschool": {
"name": "Art School",
"parent": "arts",
"type": "terms",
"id": "artschool",
"slug": "artschool",
"link": "/artschool",
"taxonomy": "site"
},
"bayareabites": {
"name": "KQED food",
"grouping": [
"food",
"bayareabites",
"checkplease"
],
"parent": "food",
"type": "terms",
"id": "bayareabites",
"slug": "bayareabites",
"link": "/food",
"taxonomy": "site"
},
"bayareahiphop": {
"name": "Bay Area Hiphop",
"type": "terms",
"id": "bayareahiphop",
"slug": "bayareahiphop",
"link": "/bayareahiphop",
"taxonomy": "site"
},
"campaign21": {
"name": "Campaign 21",
"type": "terms",
"id": "campaign21",
"slug": "campaign21",
"link": "/campaign21",
"taxonomy": "site"
},
"careers": {
"name": "Careers",
"type": "terms",
"id": "careers",
"slug": "careers",
"link": "/careers",
"taxonomy": "site"
},
"checkplease": {
"name": "KQED food",
"grouping": [
"food",
"bayareabites",
"checkplease"
],
"parent": "food",
"type": "terms",
"id": "checkplease",
"slug": "checkplease",
"link": "/food",
"taxonomy": "site"
},
"education": {
"name": "Education",
"grouping": [
"education"
],
"type": "terms",
"id": "education",
"slug": "education",
"link": "/education",
"taxonomy": "site"
},
"elections": {
"name": "Elections",
"type": "terms",
"id": "elections",
"slug": "elections",
"link": "/elections",
"taxonomy": "site"
},
"events": {
"name": "Events",
"type": "terms",
"id": "events",
"slug": "events",
"link": "/events",
"taxonomy": "site"
},
"event": {
"name": "Event",
"alias": "events",
"type": "terms",
"id": "event",
"slug": "event",
"link": "/event",
"taxonomy": "site"
},
"filmschoolshorts": {
"name": "Film School Shorts",
"type": "terms",
"id": "filmschoolshorts",
"slug": "filmschoolshorts",
"link": "/filmschoolshorts",
"taxonomy": "site"
},
"food": {
"name": "KQED food",
"grouping": [
"food",
"bayareabites",
"checkplease"
],
"type": "terms",
"id": "food",
"slug": "food",
"link": "/food",
"taxonomy": "site"
},
"forum": {
"name": "Forum",
"relatedContentQuery": "posts/forum?",
"parent": "news",
"type": "terms",
"id": "forum",
"slug": "forum",
"link": "/forum",
"taxonomy": "site"
},
"futureofyou": {
"name": "Future of You",
"grouping": [
"science",
"futureofyou"
],
"parent": "science",
"type": "terms",
"id": "futureofyou",
"slug": "futureofyou",
"link": "/futureofyou",
"taxonomy": "site"
},
"jpepinheart": {
"name": "KQED food",
"relatedContentQuery": "posts/food,bayareabites,checkplease",
"parent": "food",
"type": "terms",
"id": "jpepinheart",
"slug": "jpepinheart",
"link": "/food",
"taxonomy": "site"
},
"liveblog": {
"name": "Live Blog",
"type": "terms",
"id": "liveblog",
"slug": "liveblog",
"link": "/liveblog",
"taxonomy": "site"
},
"livetv": {
"name": "Live TV",
"parent": "tv",
"type": "terms",
"id": "livetv",
"slug": "livetv",
"link": "/livetv",
"taxonomy": "site"
},
"lowdown": {
"name": "The Lowdown",
"relatedContentQuery": "posts/lowdown?",
"parent": "news",
"type": "terms",
"id": "lowdown",
"slug": "lowdown",
"link": "/lowdown",
"taxonomy": "site"
},
"mindshift": {
"name": "Mindshift",
"parent": "news",
"description": "MindShift explores the future of education by highlighting the innovative – and sometimes counterintuitive – ways educators and parents are helping all children succeed.",
"type": "terms",
"id": "mindshift",
"slug": "mindshift",
"link": "/mindshift",
"taxonomy": "site"
},
"news": {
"name": "News",
"grouping": [
"news",
"forum"
],
"type": "terms",
"id": "news",
"slug": "news",
"link": "/news",
"taxonomy": "site"
},
"newsletters": {
"name": "newsletters",
"type": "terms",
"id": "newsletters",
"slug": "newsletters",
"link": "/newsletters",
"taxonomy": "site"
},
"perspectives": {
"name": "Perspectives",
"parent": "radio",
"type": "terms",
"id": "perspectives",
"slug": "perspectives",
"link": "/perspectives",
"taxonomy": "site"
},
"podcasts": {
"name": "Podcasts",
"type": "terms",
"id": "podcasts",
"slug": "podcasts",
"link": "/podcasts",
"taxonomy": "site"
},
"pop": {
"name": "Pop",
"parent": "arts",
"type": "terms",
"id": "pop",
"slug": "pop",
"link": "/pop",
"taxonomy": "site"
},
"pressroom": {
"name": "Pressroom",
"type": "terms",
"id": "pressroom",
"slug": "pressroom",
"link": "/pressroom",
"taxonomy": "site"
},
"quest": {
"name": "Quest",
"parent": "science",
"type": "terms",
"id": "quest",
"slug": "quest",
"link": "/quest",
"taxonomy": "site"
},
"radio": {
"name": "Radio",
"grouping": [
"forum",
"perspectives"
],
"description": "Listen to KQED Public Radio – home of Forum and The California Report – on 88.5 FM in San Francisco, 89.3 FM in Sacramento, 88.3 FM in Santa Rosa and 88.1 FM in Martinez.",
"type": "terms",
"id": "radio",
"slug": "radio",
"link": "/radio",
"taxonomy": "site"
},
"root": {
"name": "KQED",
"image": "https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/2020/02/KQED-OG-Image@1x.png",
"imageWidth": 1200,
"imageHeight": 630,
"headData": {
"title": "KQED | News, Radio, Podcasts, TV | Public Media for Northern California",
"description": "KQED provides public radio, television, and independent reporting on issues that matter to the Bay Area. We’re the NPR and PBS member station for Northern California."
},
"type": "terms",
"id": "root",
"slug": "root",
"link": "/root",
"taxonomy": "site"
},
"science": {
"name": "Science",
"grouping": [
"science",
"futureofyou"
],
"description": "KQED Science brings you award-winning science and environment coverage from the Bay Area and beyond.",
"type": "terms",
"id": "science",
"slug": "science",
"link": "/science",
"taxonomy": "site"
},
"stateofhealth": {
"name": "State of Health",
"parent": "science",
"type": "terms",
"id": "stateofhealth",
"slug": "stateofhealth",
"link": "/stateofhealth",
"taxonomy": "site"
},
"support": {
"name": "Support",
"type": "terms",
"id": "support",
"slug": "support",
"link": "/support",
"taxonomy": "site"
},
"thedolist": {
"name": "The Do List",
"parent": "arts",
"type": "terms",
"id": "thedolist",
"slug": "thedolist",
"link": "/thedolist",
"taxonomy": "site"
},
"trulyca": {
"name": "Truly CA",
"grouping": [
"arts",
"pop",
"trulyca"
],
"parent": "arts",
"type": "terms",
"id": "trulyca",
"slug": "trulyca",
"link": "/trulyca",
"taxonomy": "site"
},
"tv": {
"name": "TV",
"type": "terms",
"id": "tv",
"slug": "tv",
"link": "/tv",
"taxonomy": "site"
},
"voterguide": {
"name": "Voter Guide",
"parent": "elections",
"alias": "elections",
"type": "terms",
"id": "voterguide",
"slug": "voterguide",
"link": "/voterguide",
"taxonomy": "site"
},
"guiaelectoral": {
"name": "Guia Electoral",
"parent": "elections",
"alias": "elections",
"type": "terms",
"id": "guiaelectoral",
"slug": "guiaelectoral",
"link": "/guiaelectoral",
"taxonomy": "site"
},
"arts_tag_too-short": {
"isLoading": true
},
"arts_3478": {
"type": "terms",
"id": "arts_3478",
"meta": {
"index": "terms_1716263798",
"site": "arts",
"id": "3478",
"found": true
},
"relationships": {},
"featImg": null,
"name": "Too Short",
"description": null,
"taxonomy": "tag",
"headData": {
"twImgId": null,
"twTitle": null,
"ogTitle": null,
"ogImgId": null,
"twDescription": null,
"description": null,
"title": "Too Short Archives | KQED Arts",
"ogDescription": null
},
"ttid": 3490,
"slug": "too-short",
"isLoading": false,
"link": "/arts/tag/too-short"
},
"source_arts_13930886": {
"type": "terms",
"id": "source_arts_13930886",
"meta": {
"override": true
},
"name": "That's My Word",
"link": "https://www.kqed.org/bayareahiphop",
"isLoading": false
},
"source_arts_13929861": {
"type": "terms",
"id": "source_arts_13929861",
"meta": {
"override": true
},
"name": "That's My Word ",
"link": "/bayareahiphop",
"isLoading": false
},
"source_arts_13927349": {
"type": "terms",
"id": "source_arts_13927349",
"meta": {
"override": true
},
"name": "That's My Word",
"link": "https://www.kqed.org/bayareahiphop",
"isLoading": false
},
"source_arts_13925958": {
"type": "terms",
"id": "source_arts_13925958",
"meta": {
"override": true
},
"name": "That's My Word",
"link": "https://www.kqed.org/bayareahiphop",
"isLoading": false
},
"source_arts_13925761": {
"type": "terms",
"id": "source_arts_13925761",
"meta": {
"override": true
},
"name": "That's My Word",
"link": "https://www.kqed.org/bayareahiphop",
"isLoading": false
},
"arts_1": {
"type": "terms",
"id": "arts_1",
"meta": {
"index": "terms_1716263798",
"site": "arts",
"id": "1",
"found": true
},
"relationships": {},
"featImg": null,
"name": "Arts",
"description": null,
"taxonomy": "category",
"headData": {
"twImgId": null,
"twTitle": null,
"ogTitle": null,
"ogImgId": null,
"twDescription": null,
"description": null,
"title": "Arts Archives | KQED Arts",
"ogDescription": null
},
"ttid": 1,
"slug": "arts",
"isLoading": false,
"link": "/arts/category/arts"
},
"arts_2303": {
"type": "terms",
"id": "arts_2303",
"meta": {
"index": "terms_1716263798",
"site": "arts",
"id": "2303",
"found": true
},
"relationships": {},
"featImg": null,
"name": "Commentary",
"description": null,
"taxonomy": "category",
"headData": {
"twImgId": null,
"twTitle": null,
"ogTitle": null,
"ogImgId": null,
"twDescription": null,
"description": null,
"title": "Commentary Archives | KQED Arts",
"ogDescription": null
},
"ttid": 2315,
"slug": "commentary",
"isLoading": false,
"link": "/arts/category/commentary"
},
"arts_69": {
"type": "terms",
"id": "arts_69",
"meta": {
"index": "terms_1716263798",
"site": "arts",
"id": "69",
"found": true
},
"relationships": {},
"featImg": null,
"name": "Music",
"description": null,
"taxonomy": "category",
"headData": {
"twImgId": null,
"twTitle": null,
"ogTitle": null,
"ogImgId": null,
"twDescription": null,
"description": null,
"title": "Music Archives | KQED Arts",
"ogDescription": null
},
"ttid": 70,
"slug": "music",
"isLoading": false,
"link": "/arts/category/music"
},
"arts_11374": {
"type": "terms",
"id": "arts_11374",
"meta": {
"index": "terms_1716263798",
"site": "arts",
"id": "11374",
"found": true
},
"relationships": {},
"featImg": null,
"name": "arts-featured",
"description": null,
"taxonomy": "tag",
"headData": {
"twImgId": null,
"twTitle": null,
"ogTitle": null,
"ogImgId": null,
"twDescription": null,
"description": null,
"title": "arts-featured Archives | KQED Arts",
"ogDescription": null
},
"ttid": 11386,
"slug": "arts-featured",
"isLoading": false,
"link": "/arts/tag/arts-featured"
},
"arts_1998": {
"type": "terms",
"id": "arts_1998",
"meta": {
"index": "terms_1716263798",
"site": "arts",
"id": "1998",
"found": true
},
"relationships": {},
"featImg": null,
"name": "Boots Riley",
"description": null,
"taxonomy": "tag",
"headData": {
"twImgId": null,
"twTitle": null,
"ogTitle": null,
"ogImgId": null,
"twDescription": null,
"description": null,
"title": "Boots Riley Archives | KQED Arts",
"ogDescription": null
},
"ttid": 2010,
"slug": "boots-riley",
"isLoading": false,
"link": "/arts/tag/boots-riley"
},
"arts_1601": {
"type": "terms",
"id": "arts_1601",
"meta": {
"index": "terms_1716263798",
"site": "arts",
"id": "1601",
"found": true
},
"relationships": {},
"featImg": null,
"name": "E-40",
"description": null,
"taxonomy": "tag",
"headData": {
"twImgId": null,
"twTitle": null,
"ogTitle": null,
"ogImgId": null,
"twDescription": null,
"description": null,
"title": "E-40 Archives | KQED Arts",
"ogDescription": null
},
"ttid": 1613,
"slug": "e-40",
"isLoading": false,
"link": "/arts/tag/e-40"
},
"arts_10278": {
"type": "terms",
"id": "arts_10278",
"meta": {
"index": "terms_1716263798",
"site": "arts",
"id": "10278",
"found": true
},
"relationships": {},
"featImg": null,
"name": "featured-arts",
"description": null,
"taxonomy": "tag",
"headData": {
"twImgId": null,
"twTitle": null,
"ogTitle": null,
"ogImgId": null,
"twDescription": null,
"description": null,
"title": "featured-arts Archives | KQED Arts",
"ogDescription": null
},
"ttid": 10290,
"slug": "featured-arts",
"isLoading": false,
"link": "/arts/tag/featured-arts"
},
"arts_2284": {
"type": "terms",
"id": "arts_2284",
"meta": {
"index": "terms_1716263798",
"site": "arts",
"id": "2284",
"found": true
},
"relationships": {},
"featImg": null,
"name": "Hieroglyphics",
"description": null,
"taxonomy": "tag",
"headData": {
"twImgId": null,
"twTitle": null,
"ogTitle": null,
"ogImgId": null,
"twDescription": null,
"description": null,
"title": "Hieroglyphics Archives | KQED Arts",
"ogDescription": null
},
"ttid": 2296,
"slug": "hieroglyphics",
"isLoading": false,
"link": "/arts/tag/hieroglyphics"
},
"arts_831": {
"type": "terms",
"id": "arts_831",
"meta": {
"index": "terms_1716263798",
"site": "arts",
"id": "831",
"found": true
},
"relationships": {},
"featImg": null,
"name": "Hip Hop",
"description": null,
"taxonomy": "tag",
"headData": {
"twImgId": null,
"twTitle": null,
"socialTitle": "Fresh Off the Streets: Get Amped by the Bay's Hottest Hip-Hop Stories",
"ogTitle": null,
"ogImgId": null,
"twDescription": null,
"description": "Discover rising stars, hidden gems, and live events that'll keep your head nodding. Find your next favorite local hip hop artist right here.",
"metaRobotsNoIndex": "index",
"title": "Fresh Off the Streets: Get Amped by the Bay's Hottest Hip-Hop Stories",
"ogDescription": null
},
"ttid": 849,
"slug": "hip-hop",
"isLoading": false,
"link": "/arts/tag/hip-hop"
},
"arts_1143": {
"type": "terms",
"id": "arts_1143",
"meta": {
"index": "terms_1716263798",
"site": "arts",
"id": "1143",
"found": true
},
"relationships": {},
"featImg": null,
"name": "Oakland",
"description": null,
"taxonomy": "tag",
"headData": {
"twImgId": null,
"twTitle": null,
"ogTitle": null,
"ogImgId": null,
"twDescription": null,
"description": null,
"title": "Oakland Archives | KQED Arts",
"ogDescription": null
},
"ttid": 692,
"slug": "oakland",
"isLoading": false,
"link": "/arts/tag/oakland"
},
"arts_21785": {
"type": "terms",
"id": "arts_21785",
"meta": {
"index": "terms_1716263798",
"site": "arts",
"id": "21785",
"found": true
},
"relationships": {},
"featImg": null,
"name": "souls of mischief",
"description": null,
"taxonomy": "tag",
"headData": {
"twImgId": null,
"twTitle": null,
"ogTitle": null,
"ogImgId": null,
"twDescription": null,
"description": null,
"title": "souls of mischief Archives | KQED Arts",
"ogDescription": null
},
"ttid": 21797,
"slug": "souls-of-mischief",
"isLoading": false,
"link": "/arts/tag/souls-of-mischief"
},
"arts_4269": {
"type": "terms",
"id": "arts_4269",
"meta": {
"index": "terms_1716263798",
"site": "arts",
"id": "4269",
"found": true
},
"relationships": {},
"featImg": null,
"name": "tupac shakur",
"description": null,
"taxonomy": "tag",
"headData": {
"twImgId": null,
"twTitle": null,
"ogTitle": null,
"ogImgId": null,
"twDescription": null,
"description": null,
"title": "tupac shakur Archives | KQED Arts",
"ogDescription": null
},
"ttid": 4281,
"slug": "tupac-shakur",
"isLoading": false,
"link": "/arts/tag/tupac-shakur"
},
"arts_3800": {
"type": "terms",
"id": "arts_3800",
"meta": {
"index": "terms_1716263798",
"site": "arts",
"id": "3800",
"found": true
},
"relationships": {},
"featImg": null,
"name": "vallejo",
"description": null,
"taxonomy": "tag",
"headData": {
"twImgId": null,
"twTitle": null,
"ogTitle": null,
"ogImgId": null,
"twDescription": null,
"description": null,
"title": "vallejo Archives | KQED Arts",
"ogDescription": null
},
"ttid": 3812,
"slug": "vallejo",
"isLoading": false,
"link": "/arts/tag/vallejo"
},
"arts_235": {
"type": "terms",
"id": "arts_235",
"meta": {
"index": "terms_1716263798",
"site": "arts",
"id": "235",
"found": true
},
"relationships": {},
"featImg": null,
"name": "News",
"description": null,
"taxonomy": "category",
"headData": {
"twImgId": null,
"twTitle": null,
"ogTitle": null,
"ogImgId": null,
"twDescription": null,
"description": null,
"title": "News Archives | KQED Arts",
"ogDescription": null
},
"ttid": 236,
"slug": "news",
"isLoading": false,
"link": "/arts/category/news"
},
"arts_1331": {
"type": "terms",
"id": "arts_1331",
"meta": {
"index": "terms_1716263798",
"site": "arts",
"id": "1331",
"found": true
},
"relationships": {},
"featImg": null,
"name": "bay area",
"description": null,
"taxonomy": "tag",
"headData": {
"twImgId": null,
"twTitle": null,
"ogTitle": null,
"ogImgId": null,
"twDescription": null,
"description": null,
"title": "bay area Archives | KQED Arts",
"ogDescription": null
},
"ttid": 1343,
"slug": "bay-area",
"isLoading": false,
"link": "/arts/tag/bay-area"
},
"arts_8505": {
"type": "terms",
"id": "arts_8505",
"meta": {
"index": "terms_1716263798",
"site": "arts",
"id": "8505",
"found": true
},
"relationships": {},
"featImg": null,
"name": "bay area hip-hop",
"description": null,
"taxonomy": "tag",
"headData": {
"twImgId": null,
"twTitle": null,
"ogTitle": null,
"ogImgId": null,
"twDescription": null,
"description": null,
"title": "bay area hip-hop Archives | KQED Arts",
"ogDescription": null
},
"ttid": 8517,
"slug": "bay-area-hip-hop",
"isLoading": false,
"link": "/arts/tag/bay-area-hip-hop"
},
"arts_10422": {
"type": "terms",
"id": "arts_10422",
"meta": {
"index": "terms_1716263798",
"site": "arts",
"id": "10422",
"found": true
},
"relationships": {},
"featImg": null,
"name": "featured-news",
"description": null,
"taxonomy": "tag",
"headData": {
"twImgId": null,
"twTitle": null,
"ogTitle": null,
"ogImgId": null,
"twDescription": null,
"description": null,
"title": "featured-news Archives | KQED Arts",
"ogDescription": null
},
"ttid": 10434,
"slug": "featured-news",
"isLoading": false,
"link": "/arts/tag/featured-news"
},
"arts_16372": {
"type": "terms",
"id": "arts_16372",
"meta": {
"index": "terms_1716263798",
"site": "arts",
"id": "16372",
"found": true
},
"relationships": {},
"featImg": null,
"name": "goon with the spoon",
"description": null,
"taxonomy": "tag",
"headData": {
"twImgId": null,
"twTitle": null,
"ogTitle": null,
"ogImgId": null,
"twDescription": null,
"description": null,
"title": "goon with the spoon Archives | KQED Arts",
"ogDescription": null
},
"ttid": 16384,
"slug": "goon-with-the-spoon",
"isLoading": false,
"link": "/arts/tag/goon-with-the-spoon"
},
"arts_11439": {
"type": "terms",
"id": "arts_11439",
"meta": {
"index": "terms_1716263798",
"site": "arts",
"id": "11439",
"found": true
},
"relationships": {},
"featImg": null,
"name": "hip-hop culture",
"description": null,
"taxonomy": "tag",
"headData": {
"twImgId": null,
"twTitle": null,
"ogTitle": null,
"ogImgId": null,
"twDescription": null,
"description": null,
"title": "hip-hop culture Archives | KQED Arts",
"ogDescription": null
},
"ttid": 11451,
"slug": "hip-hop-culture",
"isLoading": false,
"link": "/arts/tag/hip-hop-culture"
},
"arts_6975": {
"type": "terms",
"id": "arts_6975",
"meta": {
"index": "terms_1716263798",
"site": "arts",
"id": "6975",
"found": true
},
"relationships": {},
"featImg": null,
"name": "Hyphy",
"description": null,
"taxonomy": "tag",
"headData": {
"twImgId": null,
"twTitle": null,
"ogTitle": null,
"ogImgId": null,
"twDescription": null,
"description": null,
"title": "Hyphy Archives | KQED Arts",
"ogDescription": null
},
"ttid": 6987,
"slug": "hyphy",
"isLoading": false,
"link": "/arts/tag/hyphy"
},
"arts_14988": {
"type": "terms",
"id": "arts_14988",
"meta": {
"index": "terms_1716263798",
"site": "arts",
"id": "14988",
"found": true
},
"relationships": {},
"featImg": null,
"name": "The Hyphy Movement",
"description": null,
"taxonomy": "tag",
"headData": {
"twImgId": null,
"twTitle": null,
"ogTitle": null,
"ogImgId": null,
"twDescription": null,
"description": null,
"title": "The Hyphy Movement Archives | KQED Arts",
"ogDescription": null
},
"ttid": 15000,
"slug": "the-hyphy-movement",
"isLoading": false,
"link": "/arts/tag/the-hyphy-movement"
},
"arts_140": {
"type": "terms",
"id": "arts_140",
"meta": {
"index": "terms_1716263798",
"site": "arts",
"id": "140",
"found": true
},
"relationships": {},
"name": "The Do List",
"slug": "the-do-list",
"taxonomy": "program",
"description": null,
"featImg": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2015/11/The-Do-LIst-logo-2014-horizontal-015.png",
"headData": {
"title": "The Do List Archives | KQED Arts",
"description": null,
"ogTitle": null,
"ogDescription": null,
"ogImgId": null,
"twTitle": null,
"twDescription": null,
"twImgId": null
},
"ttid": 141,
"isLoading": false,
"link": "/arts/program/the-do-list"
},
"arts_21365": {
"type": "terms",
"id": "arts_21365",
"meta": {
"index": "terms_1716263798",
"site": "arts",
"id": "21365",
"found": true
},
"relationships": {},
"featImg": null,
"name": "hip-hop 50",
"description": null,
"taxonomy": "tag",
"headData": {
"twImgId": null,
"twTitle": null,
"ogTitle": null,
"ogImgId": null,
"twDescription": null,
"description": null,
"title": "hip-hop 50 Archives | KQED Arts",
"ogDescription": null
},
"ttid": 21377,
"slug": "hip-hop-50",
"isLoading": false,
"link": "/arts/tag/hip-hop-50"
},
"arts_585": {
"type": "terms",
"id": "arts_585",
"meta": {
"index": "terms_1716263798",
"site": "arts",
"id": "585",
"found": true
},
"relationships": {},
"featImg": null,
"name": "thedolist",
"description": null,
"taxonomy": "tag",
"headData": {
"twImgId": null,
"twTitle": null,
"ogTitle": null,
"ogImgId": null,
"twDescription": null,
"description": null,
"title": "thedolist Archives | KQED Arts",
"ogDescription": null
},
"ttid": 590,
"slug": "thedolist",
"isLoading": false,
"link": "/arts/tag/thedolist"
},
"arts_8720": {
"type": "terms",
"id": "arts_8720",
"meta": {
"index": "terms_1716263798",
"site": "arts",
"id": "8720",
"found": true
},
"relationships": {},
"featImg": null,
"name": "Rightnowish",
"description": null,
"taxonomy": "program",
"headData": {
"twImgId": null,
"twTitle": null,
"ogTitle": null,
"ogImgId": null,
"twDescription": null,
"description": null,
"title": "Rightnowish Archives | KQED Arts",
"ogDescription": null
},
"ttid": 8732,
"slug": "rightnowish",
"isLoading": false,
"link": "/arts/program/rightnowish"
},
"arts_22314": {
"type": "terms",
"id": "arts_22314",
"meta": {
"index": "terms_1716263798",
"site": "arts",
"id": "22314",
"found": true
},
"relationships": {},
"name": "That’s My Word",
"slug": "thats-my-word",
"taxonomy": "series",
"description": null,
"featImg": null,
"headData": {
"title": "That’s My Word | KQED Arts",
"description": null,
"ogTitle": null,
"ogDescription": null,
"ogImgId": null,
"twTitle": null,
"twDescription": null,
"twImgId": null
},
"ttid": 22326,
"isLoading": false,
"link": "/arts/series/thats-my-word"
},
"arts_21759": {
"type": "terms",
"id": "arts_21759",
"meta": {
"index": "terms_1716263798",
"site": "arts",
"id": "21759",
"found": true
},
"relationships": {},
"featImg": null,
"name": "Podcast",
"description": null,
"taxonomy": "category",
"headData": {
"twImgId": null,
"twTitle": null,
"ogTitle": null,
"ogImgId": null,
"twDescription": null,
"description": null,
"title": "Podcast Archives | KQED Arts",
"ogDescription": null
},
"ttid": 21771,
"slug": "podcast",
"isLoading": false,
"link": "/arts/category/podcast"
},
"arts_10342": {
"type": "terms",
"id": "arts_10342",
"meta": {
"index": "terms_1716263798",
"site": "arts",
"id": "10342",
"found": true
},
"relationships": {},
"featImg": null,
"name": "editorspick",
"description": null,
"taxonomy": "tag",
"headData": {
"twImgId": null,
"twTitle": null,
"ogTitle": null,
"ogImgId": null,
"twDescription": null,
"description": null,
"title": "editorspick Archives | KQED Arts",
"ogDescription": null
},
"ttid": 10354,
"slug": "editorspick",
"isLoading": false,
"link": "/arts/tag/editorspick"
},
"arts_21568": {
"type": "terms",
"id": "arts_21568",
"meta": {
"index": "terms_1716263798",
"site": "arts",
"id": "21568",
"found": true
},
"relationships": {},
"featImg": null,
"name": "Hyphy Kids Got Trauma",
"description": null,
"taxonomy": "tag",
"headData": {
"twImgId": null,
"twTitle": null,
"ogTitle": null,
"ogImgId": null,
"twDescription": null,
"description": null,
"title": "Hyphy Kids Got Trauma Archives | KQED Arts",
"ogDescription": null
},
"ttid": 21580,
"slug": "hyphy-kids-got-trauma",
"isLoading": false,
"link": "/arts/tag/hyphy-kids-got-trauma"
},
"arts_19347": {
"type": "terms",
"id": "arts_19347",
"meta": {
"index": "terms_1716263798",
"site": "arts",
"id": "19347",
"found": true
},
"relationships": {},
"featImg": null,
"name": "tmw-latest",
"description": null,
"taxonomy": "tag",
"headData": {
"twImgId": null,
"twTitle": null,
"ogTitle": null,
"ogImgId": null,
"twDescription": null,
"description": null,
"title": "tmw-latest Archives | KQED Arts",
"ogDescription": null
},
"ttid": 19359,
"slug": "tmw-latest",
"isLoading": false,
"link": "/arts/tag/tmw-latest"
},
"arts_7862": {
"type": "terms",
"id": "arts_7862",
"meta": {
"index": "terms_1716263798",
"site": "arts",
"id": "7862",
"found": true
},
"relationships": {},
"featImg": null,
"name": "History",
"description": null,
"taxonomy": "category",
"headData": {
"twImgId": null,
"twTitle": null,
"ogTitle": null,
"ogImgId": null,
"twDescription": null,
"description": null,
"title": "History Archives | KQED Arts",
"ogDescription": null
},
"ttid": 7874,
"slug": "history",
"isLoading": false,
"link": "/arts/category/history"
},
"arts_75": {
"type": "terms",
"id": "arts_75",
"meta": {
"index": "terms_1716263798",
"site": "arts",
"id": "75",
"found": true
},
"relationships": {},
"featImg": null,
"name": "Pop Culture",
"description": null,
"taxonomy": "category",
"headData": {
"twImgId": null,
"twTitle": null,
"ogTitle": null,
"ogImgId": null,
"twDescription": null,
"description": null,
"title": "Pop Culture Archives | KQED Arts",
"ogDescription": null
},
"ttid": 76,
"slug": "popculture",
"isLoading": false,
"link": "/arts/category/popculture"
},
"arts_21384": {
"type": "terms",
"id": "arts_21384",
"meta": {
"index": "terms_1716263798",
"site": "arts",
"id": "21384",
"found": true
},
"relationships": {},
"featImg": null,
"name": "Chuck D",
"description": null,
"taxonomy": "tag",
"headData": {
"twImgId": null,
"twTitle": null,
"ogTitle": null,
"ogImgId": null,
"twDescription": null,
"description": null,
"title": "Chuck D Archives | KQED Arts",
"ogDescription": null
},
"ttid": 21396,
"slug": "chuck-d",
"isLoading": false,
"link": "/arts/tag/chuck-d"
},
"arts_10659": {
"type": "terms",
"id": "arts_10659",
"meta": {
"index": "terms_1716263798",
"site": "arts",
"id": "10659",
"found": true
},
"relationships": {},
"featImg": null,
"name": "Doug E. Fresh",
"description": null,
"taxonomy": "tag",
"headData": {
"twImgId": null,
"twTitle": null,
"ogTitle": null,
"ogImgId": null,
"twDescription": null,
"description": null,
"title": "Doug E. Fresh Archives | KQED Arts",
"ogDescription": null
},
"ttid": 10671,
"slug": "doug-e-fresh",
"isLoading": false,
"link": "/arts/tag/doug-e-fresh"
},
"arts_1420": {
"type": "terms",
"id": "arts_1420",
"meta": {
"index": "terms_1716263798",
"site": "arts",
"id": "1420",
"found": true
},
"relationships": {},
"featImg": null,
"name": "jazz",
"description": null,
"taxonomy": "tag",
"headData": {
"twImgId": null,
"twTitle": null,
"ogTitle": null,
"ogImgId": null,
"twDescription": null,
"description": null,
"title": "jazz Archives | KQED Arts",
"ogDescription": null
},
"ttid": 1432,
"slug": "jazz",
"isLoading": false,
"link": "/arts/tag/jazz"
},
"arts_20994": {
"type": "terms",
"id": "arts_20994",
"meta": {
"index": "terms_1716263798",
"site": "arts",
"id": "20994",
"found": true
},
"relationships": {},
"featImg": null,
"name": "Roxanne Shante",
"description": null,
"taxonomy": "tag",
"headData": {
"twImgId": null,
"twTitle": null,
"ogTitle": null,
"ogImgId": null,
"twDescription": null,
"description": null,
"title": "Roxanne Shante Archives | KQED Arts",
"ogDescription": null
},
"ttid": 21006,
"slug": "roxanne-shante",
"isLoading": false,
"link": "/arts/tag/roxanne-shante"
},
"arts_5786": {
"type": "terms",
"id": "arts_5786",
"meta": {
"index": "terms_1716263798",
"site": "arts",
"id": "5786",
"found": true
},
"relationships": {},
"featImg": null,
"name": "Basketball",
"description": null,
"taxonomy": "tag",
"headData": {
"twImgId": null,
"twTitle": null,
"ogTitle": null,
"ogImgId": null,
"twDescription": null,
"description": null,
"title": "Basketball Archives | KQED Arts",
"ogDescription": null
},
"ttid": 5798,
"slug": "basketball",
"isLoading": false,
"link": "/arts/tag/basketball"
},
"arts_1332": {
"type": "terms",
"id": "arts_1332",
"meta": {
"index": "terms_1716263798",
"site": "arts",
"id": "1332",
"found": true
},
"relationships": {},
"featImg": null,
"name": "gentrification",
"description": null,
"taxonomy": "tag",
"headData": {
"twImgId": null,
"twTitle": null,
"ogTitle": null,
"ogImgId": null,
"twDescription": null,
"description": null,
"title": "gentrification Archives | KQED Arts",
"ogDescription": null
},
"ttid": 1344,
"slug": "gentrification",
"isLoading": false,
"link": "/arts/tag/gentrification"
},
"arts_7321": {
"type": "terms",
"id": "arts_7321",
"meta": {
"index": "terms_1716263798",
"site": "arts",
"id": "7321",
"found": true
},
"relationships": {},
"featImg": null,
"name": "housing crisis",
"description": null,
"taxonomy": "tag",
"headData": {
"twImgId": null,
"twTitle": null,
"ogTitle": null,
"ogImgId": null,
"twDescription": null,
"description": null,
"title": "housing crisis Archives | KQED Arts",
"ogDescription": null
},
"ttid": 7333,
"slug": "housing-crisis",
"isLoading": false,
"link": "/arts/tag/housing-crisis"
},
"arts_1803": {
"type": "terms",
"id": "arts_1803",
"meta": {
"index": "terms_1716263798",
"site": "arts",
"id": "1803",
"found": true
},
"relationships": {},
"name": "P-Lo",
"slug": "p-lo",
"taxonomy": "tag",
"description": null,
"featImg": null,
"headData": {
"title": "P-Lo | KQED Arts",
"description": null,
"ogTitle": null,
"ogDescription": null,
"ogImgId": null,
"twTitle": null,
"twDescription": null,
"twImgId": null
},
"ttid": 1815,
"isLoading": false,
"link": "/arts/tag/p-lo"
},
"arts_1401": {
"type": "terms",
"id": "arts_1401",
"meta": {
"index": "terms_1716263798",
"site": "arts",
"id": "1401",
"found": true
},
"relationships": {},
"featImg": null,
"name": "profile",
"description": null,
"taxonomy": "tag",
"headData": {
"twImgId": null,
"twTitle": null,
"ogTitle": null,
"ogImgId": null,
"twDescription": null,
"description": null,
"title": "profile Archives | KQED Arts",
"ogDescription": null
},
"ttid": 1413,
"slug": "profile",
"isLoading": false,
"link": "/arts/tag/profile"
},
"arts_17464": {
"type": "terms",
"id": "arts_17464",
"meta": {
"index": "terms_1716263798",
"site": "arts",
"id": "17464",
"found": true
},
"relationships": {},
"featImg": null,
"name": "Mac Dre",
"description": null,
"taxonomy": "tag",
"headData": {
"twImgId": null,
"twTitle": null,
"ogTitle": null,
"ogImgId": null,
"twDescription": null,
"description": null,
"title": "Mac Dre Archives | KQED Arts",
"ogDescription": null
},
"ttid": 17476,
"slug": "mac-dre",
"isLoading": false,
"link": "/arts/tag/mac-dre"
},
"arts_19579": {
"type": "terms",
"id": "arts_19579",
"meta": {
"index": "terms_1716263798",
"site": "arts",
"id": "19579",
"found": true
},
"relationships": {},
"featImg": null,
"name": "pimp culture",
"description": null,
"taxonomy": "tag",
"headData": {
"twImgId": null,
"twTitle": null,
"ogTitle": null,
"ogImgId": null,
"twDescription": null,
"description": null,
"title": "pimp culture Archives | KQED Arts",
"ogDescription": null
},
"ttid": 19591,
"slug": "pimp-culture",
"isLoading": false,
"link": "/arts/tag/pimp-culture"
},
"arts_20984": {
"type": "terms",
"id": "arts_20984",
"meta": {
"index": "terms_1716263798",
"site": "arts",
"id": "20984",
"found": true
},
"relationships": {
"ogImgId": {
"data": {
"type": "attachments",
"id": "arts_13931365"
}
},
"twImgId": {
"data": {
"type": "attachments",
"id": "arts_13931365"
}
}
},
"featImg": null,
"name": "What’s Pimpin’?",
"description": "In our YouTube series \u003ci>What’s Pimpin’?\u003c/i>, MCs Maddy Clifford, Coco Peila and RyanNicole have candid conversations about pimp culture in Bay Area hip-hop, and ask tough questions about how Black women are treated in rap and beyond.",
"taxonomy": "tag",
"headData": {
"twImgId": "arts_13931365",
"twTitle": null,
"ogTitle": null,
"ogImgId": "arts_13931365",
"twDescription": null,
"description": "In our YouTube series What’s Pimpin’?, MCs Maddy Clifford, Coco Peila and RyanNicole have candid conversations about pimp culture in Bay Area hip-hop, and ask tough questions about how Black women are treated in rap and beyond.",
"title": "What’s Pimpin’? Archives | KQED Arts",
"ogDescription": null
},
"ttid": 20996,
"slug": "whats-pimpin",
"isLoading": false,
"link": "/arts/tag/whats-pimpin"
},
"arts_990": {
"type": "terms",
"id": "arts_990",
"meta": {
"index": "terms_1716263798",
"site": "arts",
"id": "990",
"found": true
},
"relationships": {},
"featImg": null,
"name": "TV",
"description": null,
"taxonomy": "category",
"headData": {
"twImgId": null,
"twTitle": null,
"ogTitle": null,
"ogImgId": null,
"twDescription": null,
"description": null,
"title": "TV Archives | KQED Arts",
"ogDescription": null
},
"ttid": 1008,
"slug": "tv",
"isLoading": false,
"link": "/arts/category/tv"
},
"arts_9943": {
"type": "terms",
"id": "arts_9943",
"meta": {
"index": "terms_1716263798",
"site": "arts",
"id": "9943",
"found": true
},
"relationships": {},
"featImg": null,
"name": "Awards",
"description": null,
"taxonomy": "tag",
"headData": {
"twImgId": null,
"twTitle": null,
"ogTitle": null,
"ogImgId": null,
"twDescription": null,
"description": null,
"title": "Awards Archives | KQED Arts",
"ogDescription": null
},
"ttid": 9955,
"slug": "awards",
"isLoading": false,
"link": "/arts/tag/awards"
},
"arts_11789": {
"type": "terms",
"id": "arts_11789",
"meta": {
"index": "terms_1716263798",
"site": "arts",
"id": "11789",
"found": true
},
"relationships": {},
"featImg": null,
"name": "Jeff Chang",
"description": null,
"taxonomy": "tag",
"headData": {
"twImgId": null,
"twTitle": null,
"ogTitle": null,
"ogImgId": null,
"twDescription": null,
"description": null,
"title": "Jeff Chang Archives | KQED Arts",
"ogDescription": null
},
"ttid": 11801,
"slug": "jeff-chang",
"isLoading": false,
"link": "/arts/tag/jeff-chang"
},
"arts_20720": {
"type": "terms",
"id": "arts_20720",
"meta": {
"index": "terms_1716263798",
"site": "arts",
"id": "20720",
"found": true
},
"relationships": {},
"featImg": null,
"name": "latyrx",
"description": null,
"taxonomy": "tag",
"headData": {
"twImgId": null,
"twTitle": null,
"ogTitle": null,
"ogImgId": null,
"twDescription": null,
"description": null,
"title": "latyrx Archives | KQED Arts",
"ogDescription": null
},
"ttid": 20732,
"slug": "latyrx",
"isLoading": false,
"link": "/arts/tag/latyrx"
},
"arts_20719": {
"type": "terms",
"id": "arts_20719",
"meta": {
"index": "terms_1716263798",
"site": "arts",
"id": "20719",
"found": true
},
"relationships": {},
"featImg": null,
"name": "lyrics born",
"description": null,
"taxonomy": "tag",
"headData": {
"twImgId": null,
"twTitle": null,
"ogTitle": null,
"ogImgId": null,
"twDescription": null,
"description": null,
"title": "lyrics born Archives | KQED Arts",
"ogDescription": null
},
"ttid": 20731,
"slug": "lyrics-born",
"isLoading": false,
"link": "/arts/tag/lyrics-born"
},
"arts_966": {
"type": "terms",
"id": "arts_966",
"meta": {
"index": "terms_1716263798",
"site": "arts",
"id": "966",
"found": true
},
"relationships": {},
"featImg": null,
"name": "Dance",
"description": null,
"taxonomy": "category",
"headData": {
"twImgId": null,
"twTitle": null,
"ogTitle": null,
"ogImgId": null,
"twDescription": null,
"description": null,
"title": "Dance Archives | KQED Arts",
"ogDescription": null
},
"ttid": 984,
"slug": "dance",
"isLoading": false,
"link": "/arts/category/dance"
},
"arts_70": {
"type": "terms",
"id": "arts_70",
"meta": {
"index": "terms_1716263798",
"site": "arts",
"id": "70",
"found": true
},
"relationships": {},
"featImg": null,
"name": "Visual Arts",
"description": null,
"taxonomy": "category",
"headData": {
"twImgId": null,
"twTitle": null,
"ogTitle": null,
"ogImgId": null,
"twDescription": null,
"description": null,
"title": "Visual Arts Archives | KQED Arts",
"ogDescription": null
},
"ttid": 71,
"slug": "visualarts",
"isLoading": false,
"link": "/arts/category/visualarts"
},
"arts_5397": {
"type": "terms",
"id": "arts_5397",
"meta": {
"index": "terms_1716263798",
"site": "arts",
"id": "5397",
"found": true
},
"relationships": {},
"featImg": null,
"name": "bay area rap",
"description": null,
"taxonomy": "tag",
"headData": {
"twImgId": null,
"twTitle": null,
"ogTitle": null,
"ogImgId": null,
"twDescription": null,
"description": null,
"title": "bay area rap Archives | KQED Arts",
"ogDescription": null
},
"ttid": 5409,
"slug": "bay-area-rap",
"isLoading": false,
"link": "/arts/tag/bay-area-rap"
},
"arts_19346": {
"type": "terms",
"id": "arts_19346",
"meta": {
"index": "terms_1716263798",
"site": "arts",
"id": "19346",
"found": true
},
"relationships": {},
"featImg": null,
"name": "tmw-featured",
"description": null,
"taxonomy": "tag",
"headData": {
"twImgId": null,
"twTitle": null,
"ogTitle": null,
"ogImgId": null,
"twDescription": null,
"description": null,
"title": "tmw-featured Archives | KQED Arts",
"ogDescription": null
},
"ttid": 19358,
"slug": "tmw-featured",
"isLoading": false,
"link": "/arts/tag/tmw-featured"
},
"arts_974": {
"type": "terms",
"id": "arts_974",
"meta": {
"index": "terms_1716263798",
"site": "arts",
"id": "974",
"found": true
},
"relationships": {},
"featImg": null,
"name": "rap",
"description": null,
"taxonomy": "tag",
"headData": {
"twImgId": null,
"twTitle": null,
"ogTitle": null,
"ogImgId": null,
"twDescription": null,
"description": null,
"title": "rap Archives | KQED Arts",
"ogDescription": null
},
"ttid": 992,
"slug": "rap",
"isLoading": false,
"link": "/arts/tag/rap"
},
"arts_6903": {
"type": "terms",
"id": "arts_6903",
"meta": {
"index": "terms_1716263798",
"site": "arts",
"id": "6903",
"found": true
},
"relationships": {},
"featImg": null,
"name": "Tupac",
"description": null,
"taxonomy": "tag",
"headData": {
"twImgId": null,
"twTitle": null,
"ogTitle": null,
"ogImgId": null,
"twDescription": null,
"description": null,
"title": "Tupac Archives | KQED Arts",
"ogDescription": null
},
"ttid": 6915,
"slug": "tupac",
"isLoading": false,
"link": "/arts/tag/tupac"
},
"arts_2640": {
"type": "terms",
"id": "arts_2640",
"meta": {
"index": "terms_1716263798",
"site": "arts",
"id": "2640",
"found": true
},
"relationships": {},
"featImg": null,
"name": "history",
"description": null,
"taxonomy": "tag",
"headData": {
"twImgId": null,
"twTitle": null,
"ogTitle": null,
"ogImgId": null,
"twDescription": null,
"description": null,
"title": "history Archives | KQED Arts",
"ogDescription": null
},
"ttid": 2652,
"slug": "history",
"isLoading": false,
"link": "/arts/tag/history"
},
"arts_1526": {
"type": "terms",
"id": "arts_1526",
"meta": {
"index": "terms_1716263798",
"site": "arts",
"id": "1526",
"found": true
},
"relationships": {},
"featImg": null,
"name": "prison",
"description": null,
"taxonomy": "tag",
"headData": {
"twImgId": null,
"twTitle": null,
"ogTitle": null,
"ogImgId": null,
"twDescription": null,
"description": null,
"title": "prison Archives | KQED Arts",
"ogDescription": null
},
"ttid": 1538,
"slug": "prison",
"isLoading": false,
"link": "/arts/tag/prison"
},
"arts_2479": {
"type": "terms",
"id": "arts_2479",
"meta": {
"index": "terms_1716263798",
"site": "arts",
"id": "2479",
"found": true
},
"relationships": {},
"featImg": null,
"name": "Richmond",
"description": null,
"taxonomy": "tag",
"headData": {
"twImgId": null,
"twTitle": null,
"ogTitle": null,
"ogImgId": null,
"twDescription": null,
"description": null,
"title": "Richmond Archives | KQED Arts",
"ogDescription": null
},
"ttid": 2491,
"slug": "richmond",
"isLoading": false,
"link": "/arts/tag/richmond"
}
},
"userPermissionsReducer": {
"wpLoggedIn": false
},
"eventsReducer": {},
"fssReducer": {},
"tvDailyScheduleReducer": {},
"tvWeeklyScheduleReducer": {},
"tvPrimetimeScheduleReducer": {},
"tvMonthlyScheduleReducer": {},
"userAccountReducer": {
"user": {
"email": null,
"emailStatus": "EMAIL_UNVALIDATED",
"loggedStatus": "LOGGED_OUT",
"loggingChecked": false,
"articles": [],
"firstName": null,
"lastName": null,
"phoneNumber": null,
"fetchingMembership": false,
"membershipError": false,
"memberships": [
{
"id": null,
"startDate": null,
"firstName": null,
"lastName": null,
"familyNumber": null,
"memberNumber": null,
"memberSince": null,
"expirationDate": null,
"pfsEligible": false,
"isSustaining": false,
"membershipLevel": "Prospect",
"membershipStatus": "Non Member",
"lastGiftDate": null,
"renewalDate": null,
"lastDonationAmount": null
}
]
},
"authModal": {
"isOpen": false,
"view": "LANDING_VIEW"
},
"error": null
},
"youthMediaReducer": {},
"checkPleaseReducer": {
"filterData": {
"region": {
"key": "Restaurant Region",
"filters": [
"Any Region"
]
},
"cuisine": {
"key": "Restaurant Cuisine",
"filters": [
"Any Cuisine"
]
}
},
"restaurantDataById": {},
"restaurantIdsSorted": [],
"error": null
},
"userAgentReducer": {
"userAgent": "Mozilla/5.0 AppleWebKit/537.36 (KHTML, like Gecko; compatible; ClaudeBot/1.0; +claudebot@anthropic.com)",
"isBot": true
}
}