Brooklyn, New York. The County Of Kings. I could list the the reasons why living here is the best but that list would always be incomplete, as I learn something about my home every day that I walk these streets (and I do a LOT of walking, mind you.) But ultimately Brooklyn is a place that is made out of the fabric of my dreams. Since I first started visiting here in the very early 90s to when I first moved here in 1994 (to Williamsburg before it was “Williamsburg” – I guess making me an original hipster) to when I finally came up for good in the early 21st Century, I have fallen in love with this place over and over again. Perhaps the only place that I’ve been to that struck me as hard was on my recent visit to New Orleans. But that is another story, for another time, about a different type of magic, and another place made of a silk and satin of a different set of dreams, and a story that is yet to come.
Brooknam, The Planet, is easily one of the most culturally rich places on earth and that’s reflected in the creations that pays homage to it. You can run down a laundry list of songs, art, literature, cinema, that all are their own love song to this mighty place on earth, but one always comes to mind first and foremost – I’m talking about the Roy Ayers masterpiece “We Live In Brooklyn Baby” from his 1972 album “He’s Coming.”
It’s funny to me that such an impassioned song about the outer-borough would have been written by an Los Angeles native. But you can hear the love and the desperation to succeed in the pocket of the arrangement of the one and only Harry Whitaker. Harry Whitaker was a one-of-a-kind genius who was one of those musicians whom you knew his work, you knew his sound, but you never knew him. He was born in Florida, raised in Detroit, but eventually located to Mighty Mighty Fort Greene (my current place of residence.) No wonder that the song sounds so absolutely genuine to me. I knew that Harry was still alive and active in the New York jazz scene for years, and so it was a bit of a shock to me when I found out last November that he had passed away at the young age of 68. Immediately on my Facebook I started to post records and songs that I knew he had been involved with, and as I delved further and further into his oeuvre I was kind of shocked at the depth of it.
One of the sad testaments of the modern age, and with the way that we’re all plugged in at all times, hardwired to the word and the constant stream of media and information, is that sometime the news of someone’s passing comes hastily and unexpected through the channels of social media and general connectivity. I remember Saturday, August 29th, 2009 quite well. I had just left Portland, OR that morning after an amazing show at Branx, the ultimate night for our tour. Me and the 3 other DJs I was touring with all went our separate ways, me heading north to Seattle. After landing and settling in at my hotel room, I turned on my computer and immediately bombarded with a torrent of messages, Tweets, Facebook status updates – DJ AM is dead. Dazed, I did my best to get confirmation, to verify, to somehow learn that this terrible news of the death of OUR KING, and someone whom I had know for almost my entire life, had left the planet. Once I learned it was true, one of the first things I did was call my DJ friend whom I had just been with in Portland the night before, who was one of his closest friends (he shall remain unnamed out of respect.) In a shaky voice to him I said Man I just can’t believe this, this can’t be happening. What are you talking about, replied my friend. I asked him Have you not turned on your computer or anything like that? No I just to the hotel not too long ago he said. I gently said to my friend, Man, can you please have a seat? I have something to tell to you… And as awful as I still feel about having to be the one to tell him that our friend had died, as terribly guilty as I will always feel for having to make it so that I am so intrinsically tied to a moment of such pain in my friends life, I still don’t regret being the one who told him. I’m glad that he heard it from me, as opposed to how I learned about it, from a torrent of Tweets from strangers and the name of my friend splashed across the front page of TMZ.
Now you might think that story was an awfully strange turn from my tale of Harry Whitaker, of a Brooklyn love affair, but it’s not. You see, the day of his passing, and in my initial foray into posting information about this guy and his work and his legacy and quiet but potent impact, I forgot that maybe he was not just some mythological figure but a real man of flesh and blood that people knew and cared for. Not long after my Facebook tribute to Harry I got a phone call from one of my oldest Brooklyn DJ comrades, DJ Monk-One. Andrew and I go way back and he’s not only one of the DJs I most admire and respect but also one of the guys that I have a kinship on a musical level more than most. Cos, is this true about Harry he asked. Sadly I had broken a rule that I established a year before, and let someone know about a passing of a loved one in a most impersonal manner. See, Monk and Harry were tight. We got to rapping about the dude, his power and genius, and mostly about the relationship that Monk had established with Harry during the last years of his life. It was at that time that Monk revealed to me that he had, in his possession, a copy of a recording of “We Live in Brooklyn Baby” that Harry had done recently, that had never been heard by any ears before. Of course you know I’m going to want to live and needed to hear it ASAP. Monk slid it my way and I was floored by the sublime jazzy take on this masterpiece. A true reinvention. 7 months later (meaning TODAY) as I looked out my lofty window at BAM and the Williamsburg Savings Bank Tower, at Fort Greene Park and LIU, I was reminded about how much I love it here, and I pulled up on iTunes “We Live In Brooklyn Baby.” And then I saw the secret version by Harry Whitaker. And I listened to it, and it moved me, and I had to ask Monk about sharing it with the world. With his blessing, and the story behind it, here it is. Monk, take it away…
“The story behind that unreleased We Live In Brooklyn: Around the time I talked to Harry for that Wax Poetics article, I had the idea of hooking him up with Kenny Dope to do a new version of We Live In Brooklyn, ala MAW’s version of Nautilus: a respectful, musical but tough update. Kenny, Harry and I actually met and listened to some stuff, including the unreleased 1981 sessions with Bartz and Sybil Thomas mentioned in the article. Harry wasn’t particularly interested in doing the WLIB remake but was eager to see something come of that other session. For various, typical reasons (scheduling, etc) nothing ever came of those projects.
Fast forward to last year, when I happened to be DJing at a lounge on the same block as the pizza place where Harry played every Thursday. I hadn’t seen him in a while, and it was slow at the lounge, so I put on a mix and dashed down the street to see if he was there. He was. Same as usual, doing his thing while waitresses hoisted trays of drinks and pizza over the piano, most people not paying much attention, with the exception of the small clique of musicians and singers who would always gather in awe of his talents. We talked for a couple minutes, and as I was leaving he suddenly said, “Hey remember that We Live In Brooklyn thing we were talking about years ago? I finally recorded a version with my band. In fact, I have a CD-R of it right here if you want to listen.” I grabbed the disc and ran back down the block hoping the manager at the other spot hadn’t noticed I was gone.
I wasn’t really expecting much when I popped the disc in and listened on the cue a few minutes later. You know how older jazz and soul dudes tend to ruin their early, killer tunes by trying to make them “hip.” But you should’ve seen the grin on my face when I heard what he’d done. Sick! Tablas, drums popping, nice acoustic bass and piano. Wow. I called him the next day to urge him to let me put it out as a single. Again, after trading a few phone calls the whole subject sort of faded away as other daily business took precedent. Anyway, I still have the disc of course, and hope to contact his son to see about releasing it. I assume it will be a lot harder now that Harry’s not around to greenlight it, but who knows.
I will miss his dry sense of humor and the unmistakable glow that came from being in the presence of a legend…”
Thanks Monk, for sharing that story, for sharing this music, and for allowing me to share this music with the world. For those of you out there, know this – there are few DJs that I respect as much as Monk One, from both the perspective of being an artist as well as a human. If you get a chance to see him do his thing, do it. If you get a chance to BOOK HIM at your show, do it. Me need more fellas with this much authenticity out there continuing to carry the torch for music that truly matters. Check out his Facebook Page, and also the site of his crew, Names You Can Trust.
Whattup, world? Been a minute since I’ve brought the breaks on the second day of the week (third if you’re a tribes member) but this week I’m happy to bring in a very special guest, my dude Oliver Wang BKA O-Dub from the almighty Soul-Sides.com. For those that don’t know, Soul-Sides has been one of the preeminent sources and most comprehensive places on the web for all things soul, funk, jazz, latin, hip-hop, you name it. If it’s got soul, it’s on this site. O-Dub go way back many years ago after linking up with him via The Strut, and I started to spend a lot more time in The Bay. Ever the scholar, he has a true gift of breaking down the stories behind the music in a very academic manner (he is an assistant professor at CSU-Long Beach for crying out loud) but with never removing the humanity within the grooves. Truly “Doing The Knowledge.” So it’s my sincere pleasure to bring to you this week’s BBT with my man O-Dub at the helm. Take it away, my man…
Like the rest of the world, I probably first heard the the “Cussin, Cryin’ and Carryin’ On” break (“CCCO” for short) on 45 King’s instant classic of a remix for Take 6’s accapella jam, “Spread Love.”
Even among the pantheon of great 45 King beats, this one stood out for any number of reasons. For one, the kick drum has that incredible bottom boom; it literally sounds like a “fat beat.” However, by itself, it wouldn’t be anywhere as potent if not for the syncopation of that kick with the hi-hat and snare. Any number of images come to mind when I hear how the pattern lines up – it’s like someone rattling and throwing dice, it’s like whipping a rattlesnake by its head, it’s like down-shifting a race car and flooring it. You get the idea.
The brilliance of how the “CCCO” break comes together owes partially to its source:
Ike Turner (or more accurately, his drummer), should get proper credit for dreaming up that particular pattern but notice that the “break” here is basically a one bar intro; the rest of the song doesn’t keep that particular cadence. The “CCCO” break, as we know it, wouldn’t be what it is without 45 King recognizing the potential of looping that up and creating something far greater than its original source. Hell, even “Put Your Hand In the Hand” lasts for two bars.
Befitting the royalty of 45 King’s creation, the “CCCO” break recurs prominently in some major ways, especially as a track to kick a freestyle over. Arguably the most famous examples – twice over – lies with Biggie. You’ve probably seen this video:
There’s the young B.I.G., apparently rocking a street corner over the “CCCO” break. And then later, the same beat appears again in one of the greatest “what could have been?” moments in rap history:
Yup, ‘Pac and Biggie rapping over the “CCCO” break (along with Big Scoob, Kane and Shyheim), live at Madison Square Garden in ’95. But to give credit where it’s due, a year before that, you hear the “CCCO” break powering another live session but this time, it’s taking MCs to war:
During the infamous Hiero vs. Hobo battle in 1994, DJ Joe Quixxx used the “CCCO break” (using doubles of “Spread Love”) during the first couple of rounds between Casual and Saafir.
Indeed, the “CCCO” break had a real heyday in the early 1990s, showing up on records by everyone from Das Efx to the Pharcyde to Towa Tei but my absolute favorite (on griminess alone) is from Madman Shawn:
Camy wear? Check. Black hoodie? Check. Timbos? Check. The fact that the video is hella low-budget only enhances its mad-wreck-realness. Rip it up, son, rip it up.
We lost one of our greats. The other night I was not myself. And then I turned to find that Gil Scott-Heron is dead. My hero. Our American hero. Now even more so, not myself.
I spoke on his impact and legacy, both personal and in a broader sense, and shared some of his music here in this post from March of last year. At this point there’s not much more that I can say myself, or that I even feel needs to be said. I’ve been a very big fan of Gil for many years now. That’s the wrong way of putting it. His music was pretty much the music of my teenage and early adult years. He is the voice of the city, he is the voice of the everyman, the voice of struggle and desperation, he is the voice of my youth, the voice of the tragedy of the game. He was our flawed, fragile Superman (although the brother himself would say there ain’t no such thing.) Honestly, I’m still in awe of the honesty and sincerity of his work, not just the body but the depth . I am not worthy to even speak about him. I’m not worthy to write about him. I’m just not worthy, I’m still just standing in his shadow. We all are. And we will not see another like him, not ever.
Ayres wrote a very nice piece on The Rub site, and Chairman Mao wrote a great piece as well as a mini tribute mix on the Ego Trip Blog. And to paraphrase Ayres, this loss hurts more than most because Gil was ours. And today me and Kenan will be doing a very special 2 hour Gil Scott-Heron tribute show on Chances With Wolves on East Village Radio. Tune in at 4 PM East Coast Time.
Last January the earth opened up and swallowed part of Port-au-Prince, Haiti and leaving a country and a people in dire straits. The good people over at Soulstrutdecided to hold a “Heatrocks For Haiti” campaign, where the members of the site would donate some of their most prized pieces of vinyl for auction, with all the proceeds going towards several different charitable foundations. We had done the same thing for our folks in New Orleans when Katrina hit, and both times we raised a massive amount of money, helped people, and shared our love of music and vinyl in the process.
We all went on a furious bidding war to grab records but there was one in particular that basically smacked me over the head and that I was determined to grab. I WANT IT NOW. And so I bid and I upped my bid and I upped it a little more. Once it got into the 3 figures price range I was pretty sure that I was coasting towards victory, but at the very last moment (as too often is the case) someone snuck by me and came out on the other side, victorious. Thwarted, I vowed that one day I would own that record. That record is the Karen Records version of Betty (Bettye) Lavette’s “Let Me Down Easy” B/W “Ticket To The Moon” – and to use some of the most apt (yet absurd) vernacular to describe this record, “shit is hard body as a motherfucker.” Especially the flipside, “Ticket…” just reeks of nastiness.
The Bettye Lavette story is quite interesting. Basically a detroit girl, she started her singing career very young, performing with a variety of artists including the James Brown review as well as a young up and coming soul singer from Georgie, Otis Redding. Having enjoyed a relatively healthy career touring and recording all throughout the 60s, it was during this time she recorded what many soul music aficionados refer to as “one of the greatest soul recordings of all time,” the original 1965 Calla Records version of “Let Me Down Easy.” I know at least one hip-hop producer agreed with how ill the song is, but I can’t remember who that was at the moment (feel free to chime in, folks.)
In the early 70s she signed with Atlantic / Atco and went down to Alabama to record an album (“Child Of The Seventies”) at the legendary Muscle Shoals. For reasons still unexplained, the project was cancelled and, other than 1 single, the album was shelved. Disillusioned, she continued on with her career releasing a few disco records and even singing on Broadway until 1999 when a French record collector found the master tapes for “Child Of The Seventies” and released it on his own imprint (under the new title “Souvenirs.”) This began an upsurge in her popularity and, coupled with a gang of newly recorded material over the past decade, Bettye is as popular than ever, having won awards and selling records like crazy. Don’t call it a comeback!
A couple months after I lost that bid for the record, I found another copy on eBay and was determined to get this one. Don’t ask me how much it cost but for sure it was a pretty penny. You know I was psyched when I got the 7″ package in my mailbox and opened it up, finally having this banger. One of the first things that I noticed when I looked at the label was the words “Arranged By Dale Warren.” Now I honestly do not know the back story on how all of this went down, as I’m not really as deep in the digging game as a lot of other dudes, but I figured it had to be the only other Dale Warren that I had heard about in the soul music scene at that time. Dale Warren was a musician and arranger for Motown in the 60s, and he’s the man behind the original arrangement of “Let Me Down Easy.” Being the classically trained violinist it makes sense, as the OG version’s pizzicato is so powerful. In the early 70s Warren moved over to the Stax label to join up with Isaac Hayes as the label’s in-house arranger. In 1973 he released a concept album dealing with the effects of American poverty. That album is “Ghetto: Misfortune’s Wealth” by 24 Carat Black, a magnum opus that, while it didn’t sell well at the time, is considered a masterpiece and touchstone in soul and funk music.
That album is dark and gritty and brooding… and booming. There’s really nothing quite like it. And listening to the 45 I had just got, one can hear that it was the direction that he was moving towards. Desperation funk. Combined with the unmatched intensity of Bettye’s voice and the longing and pain in it, it’s rawer than almost anything. That’s HARD BODY. For my money, when it comes to describing something as “hardcore” I will put this A and B side doubleshot up against any record by Slayer or M.O.P. It sounded like it was recorded somewhere in a cave in Hades. Unbelievably powerful and moving. And YES, both sides have drums, hence this record being a no-brainer for Breakbeat Tuesdays. I hope you enjoy it, as I have the A-Side as a Youtube clip so you can hear it, and the B-Side as the WMD. Peace!
Saturday October 26 – Harbor Haunt – Philadelphia, PA 
