So these guys [on campus] were breaking, they weren’t doing Bay traditional dances, and we can get into why that was the case: Because [some of] those guys who came out of that dance era that actually predates hip-hop in New York had aged out. They were older, doing other things. And the fascination of hip-hop out of New York was really through the visuals of dance.
I should acknowledge the fact that the elements that are hip-hop were present even before 1973 in the Bay Area, right?
We’ve always danced. Percussion has always been our thing, right? Black people are the people of the drum. Native folks are people of the drum, so the drum is not foreign. And rhyming has been around for a very long time. Having all those elements put together in a package like that had not happened. So again, It’s not “either or,” it’s “both and.”
One of the big things that jumped out at me about the video is that it’s at Sproul Plaza, and this is the home of the Free Speech Movement and anti-Vietnam War protests. Having this event at that same hallowed ground, does that bring some type of legitimacy? Legitimacy is a loaded word, but does it bring some weight to it?
I don’t think people were thinking of it at that time. I certainly wasn’t. The reason we did it at Sproul Plaza was because that’s where all the Black folks hung out, the fraternities: the Alphas, who were probably the biggest one. And the Kappas, when they did their step shows, they did it on Sproul Plaza, right? Sproul Plaza is right there at the entry of the campus, so if you want to get maximum people, you’re going to do it on Sproul Plaza. The second one we did down in Zellerbach, but it wasn’t like, “Aw man, the Free Speech Movement happened here, let’s do it on Sproul Plaza.”
And you said you passed out a flyer there.
Not a flyer, but a piece of — it was an article that I wrote explaining what hip-hop was.
A one-sheeter, right?
A one-sheeter, yeah.
Why would you need to pass on a one-sheeter explaining hip-hop?
Because people didn’t know at that time, and you wanted to make sure they had it. What are you watching? Why are you watching this? So, again, for many people that was the first time they saw something live like that. We take it for granted now, but in 1984, you didn’t see that like that. There wasn’t no [hip-hop] block parties here. So this was the first time for a lot of people. And we wanted to make sure that they had an understanding.
My mom was mad because she said, “You didn’t put your name on it.” She’s like, “Put your name on it so people know that you wrote this, I don’t want nobody taking your stuff.” And I was like, “Nah, ma, they seen me pass it out.” But it became important because a lot of people did use that article. It showed up in the San Francisco Chronicle. There were people that quoted from it and didn’t know where it came from. I seen it on websites years later, right? But, you know, it’s actually on my site now. I was asked to write it for a magazine, so I rewrote that and added to it.
In the early days, how did hip-hop culture spread to the Bay Area?
It spread the same way that it does everywhere else where Black folks are. First, we have to ask the question: What parts of hip-hop? So you have to get a graff writer in here to break down how they were passing along secrets and understandings and cultural aesthetics. You know, somebody like Refa One.
I think us as DJs, there’s a whole path that we took, right? … So I’ll give you an example: There was a guy named Quickie Kev who was on the campus, and I was the main DJ, but Quickie Kev came out of L.A. and he knew how to scratch. His scratch was picked up from [the radio station] KDAY. And at that time, they had a bunch of DJs on there. Tony G. Joe Cooley, right? So there was an “L.A. Fast Scratch,” that’s what we called it. And he picked that up, and he was vicious on it. So whenever he did a party, people were sitting around like, “Man, how do we do that?” So that became one way some of that trickery was passed along. Much of it was seeing somebody who had a skillset, and they would pick it up.
Was there a point in the late ’80s, early ’90s where you could pinpoint and say hip-hop had irreversibly established itself?
When Beat Street came out, I think there was no turning back. Shout out to Harry Belafonte and all those people who put it together. I know we had Krush Groove, and Wild Style had come out prior to that. But I think Beat Street because it was such a mainstream thing, it was the one that was for people who grew up with that in New York — this was a validation. I think there was no turning back at that point.
I remember, I was at a place called the Promenade, which is next to Marble Hill Projects in the Bronx. And my crew was doing a party. And I remember sitting there like, “Wow, look at all these people here.” And I said, “I wonder if people around the world know what we’re doing.” This is incredible. It just hit me. And within two years time, “Rapper’s Delight” came out and that was irreversible there.
So, one more question on my end: 50 years from now, hip-hop is…?
Hip-hop will be a continuation of Black expression, it ain’t going nowhere. We’re gonna stop singing and vocalizing ourselves? No. We gonna stop dancing? No. Are we going to have different rhythms? Absolutely. You can have a crunk beat, boom-bap beat, hyphy beat, underground lo-fi beat, jazzy beat, right? You can have those 808 beats, Miami bass beat. There’s like 50 different beats that you can find within hip-hop. There will be new beats 50 years from now. It might not be called hip-hop, but it’s still going to be here.
It will never leave because hip-hop at its core is the expression of people who want to build community with one another. Who want to lose themselves in other ways, to express themselves and not be limited to what society says is valid expression.
The key for us is, can we connect the past with the present? And can we connect the past and present to the future? That’s our job. So we’re here to open your mind, and as Black Moon would say, “get you open.”
