Читать книгу Don't Rhyme For The Sake of Riddlin' - Russell Myrie - Страница 12
ОглавлениеEven though they were developing artistically, Spectrum City’s debut twelve-inch failed to set the rap world alight. In 1984 it was going to be very hard to outdo the likes of LL Cool J, Run DMC and Whodini, all of whom were selling healthy amounts of records.
For a brief moment, it seemed like things were going to fizzle out. Harry Allen was not alone in feeling very nervous that this could end up being the case. ‘I always felt like if these guys had a break, if people were to hear their music, it would really be amazing, and so when their first break came with the Vanguard record, I thought that was going to do it and then it didn’t. After that, they weren’t doing as many mobile gigs and I kinda thought, “Wow, I guess that was it”.’
But it transpired that the lull caused by the failure of ‘Lies/Check Out the Radio’ was only the calm before the storm. Another of the radio promos made was called ‘Public Enemy Number One’. It was put together with two tape decks in the studio. This Keith Shocklee production would eventually change everything for the young group. An element of necessity would play its part in the creation of Public Enemy. It was necessary for Chuckie D to defend his lyrical reputation. ‘I made “Public Enemy Number One” ’cos there were some elements in the neighbourhood that heard my other promos and one of these cats that was part of a legendary crew called the Play Hard Crew told Flavor he was gonna take me out rhyming.’ Sound familiar? This is the cat Flav is talking about at the beginning of the (slightly different) version of ‘Public Enemy Number One’ that was released on Def Jam just over two years later. He’s the dude that complains to Flavor about how ‘that brother Chuckie D swears he’s nice’.
At first, emcee battles were not top of Chuck’s to-do list. He wasn’t trying to be ‘one of those battle cats’. He was trying to improve things for all of the local emcees by getting them on the radio and building up a local scene. Ironically (and unluckily for the Play Hard Crew), Chuck’s mic skills were called into question at the same time that Chuck and Flav began to put together their unmatchable back-and-forth style. Prior to PE, no two rappers had jammed together in the way Chuck and Flav made famous. Run and DMC had traded lyrics and even finished each other’s lines, but they did it on a far more equal footing. Chuck was definitely in charge, but Flavor’s contribution was priceless, and always funky.
Unbeknown to the Play Hard Crew, they would be the first to be blown away by the combination of Chuck and Flav. Chuck’s father had a furniture removal business. Chuck managed to hit his boy Flav off with a job, and by working a job together, they came up with something that would later prove to be one of PE’s greatest assets. Their interaction not only made their records memorable. The PE live show would not be the devastating affair it undoubtedly is without their chemistry.
After leaving the offices on 58th street in Times Square Flav would write down ideas if Chuck was driving and vice versa. Once they got back to Hempstead they would work on their ideas in the studio. ‘Me and Flavor were driving trucks for my father, for a year and a half, two-year period. Flavor needed a gig, my father was moving furniture in trucks, so we would drive the new furniture and go through new routines while in the truck.’
Their interplay, though unique for hip-hop, was not without precedent. One major influence was the legendary James Brown and Bobby Byrd. The Godfather of Soul didn’t only influence hip-hop with the loops that formed the basis of many great rap records. His vocal stylings were equally influential. ‘You know the “everybody over there, get on up”, that contrast,’ says Chuck. All the years spitting on sub-par equipment had taught Chuck a thing or two about voice levels. He realised very early on that he would work well with Flav. Flavor’s voice is high pitched and ‘trebley’ but it has some ‘bassy’ strength to it. Chuck’s voice is of course as bassy as they come, but has the tiniest amount of treble there too.
Their voices, like their personalities, were polar opposites: they were up and down, left and right, north and south. ‘Both of us could cut through a recording,’ Chuck states. ‘Or cut through things that became noise.’ The other influence was far more modern. Chuck was paying attention to the Philadelphia rapper Schoolly D, who, alongside DJ Code Money, made his mark with hits like ‘PSK’. ‘Code Money would open up to say something and set it up for Schoolly like, “Hey Schoolly, why did you do this, duh duh duh”, and Schoolly D would come in with “duh duh duh”.’ Schoolly D’s style of making records and his voice style were a big influence on ‘Yeah, I’m just going in with the 98,’ as Chuck raps in ‘You’re Gonna Get Yours’. Chuck goes on: ‘It’s in the same cadence as “PSK what the hell does it mean?”’
Just as hip-hop production developed more rapidly during the mid eighties, so did the vocal styles. At the close of the decade Ice Cube would comment to Chuck on how he was influenced by Chuck when it came to that particular cadence and flow. Chuck responded by saying he got it from Schoolly D and Mr. Magic. When it was brought to Schoolly D’s attention he admitted he was influenced by Melle Mel.
But while Spectrum were becoming more and more involved with the recording process they still didn’t want to be recording artists. They wanted to work full time in radio. The crew looked up to the likes of the World Famous Supreme Team (who in time would go on to make ‘Buffalo Gals’ with Malcolm McLaren), who had a show on WHBI, and ‘Chief Rocker’ Frankie Crocker who played on WWRL. A gig along those lines, and the chance to continue with their DJ gigs, would have suited them just fine.
A big reason for their hesitancy to become recording artists was that during their time at WBAU the Spectrum camp had been observing the harsh realities of the developing rap game. Inflated egos meant that they had to treat the upcoming acts who played at their gigs like kings. But after the shows the Spectrum crew would then drive those acts back to the same impoverished neighbourhoods that they’d always lived in. Driving supposed rap stars back to the projects made an impression. ‘None of them were really getting paid off records so I was like, “Damn”,’ is how Chuck assessed the situation.
