The place Brooklyn, NYC. Flatbush.

It was about 8:30 or 9pm EST. I just finished watching Diff’rent St.rokes and raced to my room. Walked past the Dave W.infield poster, past the poster of Salt-N-Pepa that I got from Word Up Magazine.

Jumped over the shell top Adidas with the fat laces to get to one thing….

The radio a.k.a MY BOX.

Walked over to my leather bomber with the faux fur around the hood, reached in the pocket and pulled out a fresh new TDK tape. Not 60 minutes. No no. This joint was 90 minutes and it was the clear joint.

Took the cover off and put it in my box.

Turned it on. Flipped to the station. 107.5 WBLS. Time for Mr. Magic to have a Rap-Attack. That’s side one of my tape.

Side 2. That was reserved for the man that goes berserk. His name — DJ Red Alert on 98.7 Kiss FM.

I’m ready to roll. I got my finger on the buttons. You know which buttons I’m talking about. On some radios, you had to push the Red “RECORD” button. Others, you had to push the RECORD and PLAY buttons at the same time. But you were nice with it. You knew when to hit pause because the DJ was about to start speaking. Or if you didn’t catch it and the voice recorded, as soon as they went to commercials, you hit rewind to the point in the tape right before they spoke. Then you hit PAUSE. That’s where the new recording would begin.

On that night though, I heard a song that was unlike anything I had ever heard before. Ever. Sure I was a fan of rap music. Sugar Hill and Grandmaster Flash or Furious Five. In those days, you had to have a name that indicated how many were in your crew. Like Funky Four +1.

So I hear this song and I can’t quite place why it’s giving me the chills but it did. See it didn’t have the typical break beat that the other songs had. It didn’t incorporate the “electric digital like” sound that others had. The beat was like hip hop and rock fused into one but the bass line was pure hip hop. It was crazy.

After I recorded it, I called my best friend. Asked him if he heard it. He did. He even recorded it and by the next day, we knew the lyrics. Word for Word. We were outside, no laces in the Adidas, leather bombers, under Hector’s window, gathered in a circle reciting the rhymes. Acting like we were them. I wonder if they realize how much they influenced a generation. Probably not. You typically don’t know until it’s over. Weeks later, we stayed up late and saw the video on Hot Tracks with Carlos DeJesus.

But that’s the essence of it. That was the beauty of music in that era, before it became corporate cause don’t front, hip hop is as corporate as white shirts, red ties and racism. This was a part of the foundation for music and for me.

When LL couldn’t live with out his radio – Neither could I.

When LL needed love – so did I.

This group, these guys became my favorite group (until Tribe came out). But they are still at the top in my opinion.

[youtube = http://www.youtube.com/v/KQGH5smIxq0&rel=1]

By the way, if you listen closely – 2nd verse to be exact, you’ll hear how I came up with my name.

We’ll say late 1980′s, say 1988. Around the time of the D.A.I.S.Y Age. Remember that? You’re at a house party or hooky party or something, looking all afro-centric. You got the Africa medallion around your neck, some loose fittin’ pants, a crazy ugly jungle shirt and either you got the high top fade a.k.a flat-top or you began twisting that joint. You’re rocking those thick soled black shoes and somewhere on you, either your belt or one your shoes, you have this…

Somebody you know banged that joint off someone’s car the two nights ago and sold it to you, so you’re rocking it…….

Everyone’s dancing, having fun drinking, the music is banging…….

The DJ or the person acting like the DJ who’s really sitting by the tape recorder or boom box, flips the tape over to side B and the speakers start bumping….

[youtube = http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vpZqG_0oepg]

You hear the floor shaking. People are going for it. Then it happens……

A circle forms. The arena is here. The stage is set. It’s time for you to show what you got.

Time to Battle.

Remember that?

People would get in the middle of the circle, show their skills, their moves and just go for it. Skills. Battling.

Two streets crews would get it on at the Roxy. Breakdancing. BVD vs. Rocksteady. FAP anyone? Airbrushed sweatshirts and Lee jackets. Felt letters on their baseball caps. Name belts from the Flea market. Suede kicks.

[youtube = http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Leg3WJnttfc]

Battling.

You get in that circle and show your skills. Somebody starts beat boxing, and you spit. You didn’t have to be a rhyming expert, you just had to rhyme…

Weelllllll, my name is Fresh, and I’m one of the best,

Not like the rest, I dress to impress

And in school I pass all the tests….Rrrrrrr-ahhhhh.

That circle introduced you to the world. Showed you had skills. The battle was where you earned your respect. Where other people labeled you as the best or as we used to say it “NICE or DOPE”.

And yeah our parents would ask what the hell we were doing but they wouldn’t try and break up the circle. The circle broke itself up when the battle was done.

Form a circle nowadays and it’s rare someone is dancing in the middle. They’re fighting. Exchanging blows and that’s if they’re using their hands. Long gone are the days where the dookey earrings came off and the vaseline went on in excessive amounts on the face. Now, even the girls are carrying weapons.

These kids nowadays (not all, some) would not last a minute in a battle. If I told them “your mama so dumb she got stabbed in a shootout” – there might actually be a shootout. They take things personal. Rappers don’t battle. They beef with these bullshit bang bang shoot’em, I got bitches, I got hoes, I got money, watch my rims spin lyrics. They are self proclaimed egotistical idiots. But when the rims stop spinning, then what?

It’s wishful thinking. It’s a pipe dream but I want to go back to the Essence of it All.

“Leave your nines at home and bring your skills to the battle…..”