PLEASE SWEAT THESE TECHNIQUES

Eric B & Rakim - Don't Sweat the Technique

I went to my girl Mec’s birthday party last night at Bucarou and had a great time surrounded by old and new friends. DAMN WE KNOW A LOT OF THE SAME PEOPLE, LOL. I got to check out a fly new twist on the photo booth trend we all loved for a while, this time reinvented by Portrait Parties. I also tasted what might honestly be the best soy chicken I have EVER had, prepared by Dante’s Friend Chicken. Ayinde, thanx for putting me on.

In the middle of all this joy, I noticed a guy wearing a plain white tee with bold red and blue block letters that read “ERIC B FOR PRESIDENT.” That T-shirt lit me up. I was cheesin so hard and I couldn’t immediately figure out why, but every time I saw it, I smiled. It was a pure and honest reaction, like a memory buried deep finally bubbling up.

Then my homegirl DJ Kiss dropped a Rakim Allah joint, followed by a Large Professor cut, and it hit me. That same feeling had shown up earlier that day when I watched THE QUEEN LATIFAH perform “U.N.I.T.Y” at the Pepsi DJ Battle at SOBs. GOD! WHY DIDN’T I GET INTO THE CAR WITH PRINCE AND GO TO THAT. HINDSIGHT IS A BITCH!

The same rush came over me the night before as I walked into Trace Magazine’s "Black Girls Rule!” Issue release party at Room Service. I was in a pissy mood until, out of nowhere, “I’M RICK JAMES BITCH!” and DJ M.O.S., Kiss’s boyfriend and my homie, flipped the vibe by dropping Eric B. and Rakim Allah’s “Don't Sweat The Technique.” With one record, my mood did a complete 180. That crowd blew up like someone handed them a one million dollar shopping spree. Then he SHUTDOWN the spot with a GANGSTA 90s set that had a room full of fashion industry insiders and wannabes — the ones who normally only stand around looking too fly to move — going wild. They were doing the whop, the running man, screaming, snapping pics of someone other than themselves while “The Retro Kids” took over the dance floor.

That night brought clarity. I realized I had allowed “Puff Daddy” to define what 90s Hip Hop meant to me. Which, in hindsight, meant I had come to see that entire era as the beginning of Hip Hop’s end — WWAAAYYY before Nas ever said it. You may now refer to me as Nostradamus, except my batting average is so much better.

But with all these recent 90s revivals hitting hard — Funk Master Flex’s 5 hour 90s Hip Hop SMACKDOWN (which I’m blasting as I write this), DJ M.O.S.’s killa hardcore sets in all the IT spots (and me, the ever present voyeur, SUPA-NUTTING at the comedy of watching little rich white kids scream out every word to Onyx, Rakim Allah, and Das EFX), and endless hours spent on Stretch Armstrong’s Konstant Kontakt Blog digging through old episodes of the Stretch Armstrong & Bobbito radio show — I remembered the truth.

That show was HIP HOP. If you can name the artist, they were on it back then. And now? We have so-called "DJs" — you know who you are — thinking a Mac Book Pro and Limewire makes them qualified. Please, for the sake of all our ears, leave it to the professionals. Thanx. Because I swear, some of y’all have amazing vinyl — sorry, MP3s — and still manage to make the most disjointed, confusing, zero transition sets I have ever heard. YOU DON’T PLAY THAT AFTER THAT. SON, HOW DID HE GET THERE?!??!

These recent reintroductions to REAL 90s HIP HOP reminded me of two essential truths. One, the 90s were the SHIT and I miss every single minute of it. Two, HIP HOP IS NOT DEAD. There is always good music out there, if you are willing to look for it. F@$^ trash like “AY BAY BAY” — WHAT THE F##% IS THAT?!?! — because we still have artists like Common dropping joints like “The People” to give us that real Hip Hop fix we all still crave.

LONG LIVE HIP HOP!!!

GVG
~we’re the warriors they write epics about~

UPDATE

Some 7am insight to f#$^ with your head. Tell me if you think it's true, I damn sure know it's funny.

DJ M.O.S. said...
"why does eric b remind of silent bob"