When Ice Cube recorded his song "Dead Homiez" in the early nineties, the Rap audience felt him, but we mostly felt him because we had friends close to us who had passed on.
Everyone does.
It was a horrible event in the early stages of West Coast Rap when MC Trouble passed away at the precipice of her career. But she was brand new and her impression was not as deep as it could have been had she survived and added to her body of work.
There was an almost silent hush when Keith "Cowboy" Wiggins slipped away. And few even blinked by the time we lost Sugarshaft from the revolutionary group X Clan.
But when stars who fell while they were still shining ever so brightly began to fall, we blinked.
It was 1994, when we would all get a wake up call that the horrors of the world around our art would smash right through the door to surround the art itself.
Eric "Eazy-E" Wright fell ill and passed away so quickly that we could barely catch our breath from hearing that he was ill. Hearing that he died of AIDS made it even more surreal. For many in the Hip Hop generation, that disease just didn¹t touch us. And with the strangeness surrounding his death, some of us still refuse to believe that it had.
But death did come knocking.
And a few of our own answered the call.
The death of Tupac Amaru Shakur hit us as though we had never dealt with the death of an artist before. Somehow the rationalizations we used for Eazy¹s death would not work for Tupac.
In the prime of his life and of his career, Tupac was gunned down taken away to death much like the manner in which he Rapped in life.
And somehow we tried to rationalize his death as well.
The rationalization stopped one year later when The Notorious B.I.G. was gunned down--also in the prime of his life and of his career.
Did we get too numb by the time we lost Freaky Tah and Big L? Did we really feel the impact of lost potential when Big Pun left us? All of these lives were lost unnecessarily. Are there too many of us still believing that the artists we bang in our whips are immortal?
Those beliefs are foolish.
Early Black music felt the impact of life lost with Billie Holiday¹s tragic end. Early Rock felt it with the loss of Richie Valens, Big Bopper and Buddy Holly. R&B felt it with Marvin Gaye¹s horrific death in the early eighties. And Rock was feeling it again in the nineties with the suicide of Kurt Cobain of Nirvana and the hedonism-induced death of Grateful Dead¹s Jerry Garcia.
My point here, is that Rap music and it¹s audience are subject to the same events of life that the rest of the world endures. There are two certainties of life--death and taxes. Ask artists like Kool Moe Dee about taxes and they will tell you how real that is. Take a look at the fallen homies of Rap music and you can see how real death is.
The artists eulogized in this piece are not old, nor were all of them sick. But the death of each and every one of them is tragic, and should give each and every one of us cause to pause and evaluate our own lifestyles.
Pour out your liquor...for your Dead Homiez.
Eazy-E--Compton¹s Favorite Son
The first major artist to be taken away from the Hip Hop generation was Eric "Eazy-E" Wright.
His death was the first of three in as many years of powerful Rap Stars who would leave this world and leave a legacy of artistry behind.
Even though it is still disputed in certain circles, the official cause of death for Eazy-E was complications from Acquired Immune Deficiency Syndrome, or AIDS.
As death approached, Eazy attempted to do what he had not done in the midst of his life. From his hospital bed, he wrote words that he hoped would enlighten and warn people so that those within reach could learn from his misfortune about the reality of AIDS.
"I¹m not saying this because I¹m looking for a soft cushion wherever I¹m heading. I just feel that I¹ve got thousands of young fans that have to learn about what¹s real when it comes to AIDS. Like the others before me, I would like to turn my own problem into something good that will reach out to all my homeboys and their kin because I want to save their asses before it¹s too late. I¹m not looking to blame anyone but myself. I¹ve learned...that this thing is real and it doesn¹t discriminate. It affects everyone." --final public words of Eric "Eazy-E" Wright
Eazy was neither an intravenous drug user nor homosexual, two of the groups commonly thought to be exclusive prey to the Human Immunodeficiency Virus (HIV)
As a young, otherwise healthy heterosexual male, Eric Wright left us with words of warning that he had never placed in his music during the ten years of his career.
His hope was that perhaps in the wake of his sorrowful death of AIDS, the Hip Hop generation would become more conscious of the dangers of an irresponsible sexual lifestyle.
Yet, five years after Eazy-E¹s tragic death, the Hip Hop content has not missed a beat on sexual irresponsibility. Questions that were crucial then, are crucial now. As Rap artists deliver messages of sexual recklessness, did the music lull the Hip Hop generation to sleep in the age of AIDS? Does young America realize yet the danger of irresponsible sex? Did Eazy¹s death serve as a wake up call?
Perhaps his death of AIDS had much less impact as his life and activities in the music industry.
The impact of Eazy¹s activities in the music industry is still felt. From NWA, he created a musical empire that would give birth to Dr. Dre, Ice Cube, Ren, Above The Law, Michel¹le, Bone: Thugs N Harmony, The DOC, JJ Fad, and more who were influenced by he or his groups.
Eazy-E, as a record label executive, stood as a giant in the music industry, head to head with the likes of Barry Gordy or Russel Simmons. As an artist, he and NWA stand as legends in the company of The Beatles and The Rolling Stones.
When Eazy passed away, he was on a comeback trail with his own album, a platinum Bone: Thugs N Harmony record and legitimate hopes of an NWA reunion. He never got to see his visions come full circle, because at the age of 31, he left this world and everything he loved. Darryl James A
Tupac¹s Divided Soul
On Friday, September 13, 1996, yet another young star¹s light was diminished. Tupac Amaru Shakur, 25, died as a result of multiple gunshot wounds.
This divided soul had many who loved him. Perhaps more than those who hated him.
Love or hate Tupac, it is always sorrowful when one so talented and so young passes from this world.
If you loved him, it is easy to recognize the loss when one so young faces death. Most of those who hated Tupac did not even know him.
If they knew him, they would know that there was another side of him that was vastly different from the Tupac who embraced Thug Life and the gangster lifestyle he proclaimed as "the way of Death Row," his musical home.
In 1991, I met Tupac while he was traveling with Digital Underground. I was writing the Hip Hop Countdown & Report, a syndicated radio show, but our conversation was not an interview, so it was not taped. It also wasn¹t very long. But that 15 minute conversation with him sticks with me now as if it occurred yesterday, and burns in my memory deeper than any other encounter in later years as he grew and matured into the Tupac he chose to be.
Then, he talked of his hopes and dreams, speaking with the wild enthusiasm of a youth who seeks to accomplish everything at once, because life had yet to teach him that only so much is possible.
He spoke of a deep love for his people, and a desire to dedicate his life to uplifting them and leading them out of their darkness, much in the way Dr. Martin Luther King and Malcolm X did. Tupac wanted to use his Rap talents to become a pro-Black revolutionary.
He wasn¹t a gangster.
Or a thug.
Not yet.
The Tupac who stood in front of me then was just a cool kid who was funny as hell and just wanted people to like him.
And it was hard not to.
But he was deeply affected by what he was seeing around him, and showed a darker side which reflected on the condition of his people.
Perhaps he reflected too deeply.
Before he released even his first album, he said: "I never had shit growing up, so I had nothing to lose. Now I want to show what I¹ve been through to other people who¹ve been through the same thing to show how narrowly I escaped. I stand up for something: I want to take the bad and turn it to good."
In those 15 minutes, his demeanor changed from light to dark as Tupac compared himself to Marvin Gaye, having a "Divided Soul."
I didn¹t really think much about his comparison then, until recent years, when I saw what the world believed was a metamorphosis from street-reality Rapper to gangster Rapper as he embraced the "Thug life." Only Tupac knew that what he would become to the world was already a part of him. It was as much a part of him as the laughing Tupac the world saw in the early days with Digital Underground.
Alongside the thug life that he lived, was the pro-Black revolutionary that Tupac knew he could be. And both were struggling for dominance over his divided soul.
The division was manifest in songs like "Keep Your Head Up," a powerfully positive anthem for sisters in the hood, juxtaposed to "I Get Around," a song that admonishes "I only got one night in town/ Break out or be clowned," and allegedly participating in a gang rape, actions which caught him more heat in the press than in the courtroom, arguably making his court case moot, since he was convicted publicly by the media.
And for the Tupac who wanted to be a pro-Black revolutionary, there was the Tupac who fought with a film director he believed had dissed him and allegedly sought to shoot another Rapper who he believed had a hand in his 1994 shooting. This was the Tupac who embraced the life of a thug and gangster.
Perhaps because he simply believed it was his unavoidable destiny. Tupac seemed to constantly struggle with the two sides of his soul, swinging the pendulum of his psyche back and forth between the life of the thug, and the way of the revolutionary.
While incarcerated in 1995, Tupac told Vibe Magazine that "I¹m going to save these young ni--gas, because nobody else wants to save them. Nobody ever came to save me. They just watch what happen to you. That¹s why Thug Life to me is dead. If it¹s real, then let somebody else represent it, because I¹m tired of it."
But once released from prison on bail, pending an appeal on his rape charge, Tupac once again embraced the "bad boy" persona he knew he could also be so well.
On Friday, September 13, 1996, Tupac slid out of this world and on to face his judgment. Whatever judgment he received is final and is larger than any judgment fallible mortals who are still stumbling through this world can ever give him. No living mortals know the answer to the question Tupac posed on "If I Die 2Nite," when he wondered if "heaven got a ghetto for thug ni--gas."
When his body ceased to take in breath, Tupac¹s soul was divided from his body. In his rest, perhaps Tupac can resolve the division of his soul. Darryl James
Requiem for Biggie
While many emcees live in their own little fantasy worlds when they record tracks, Notorious B.I.G. aka Biggie Smalls, actually lived his alias; he was the Black Frank White. That¹s the King of New York for those of you who¹re uninformed in matters of crucial gangster flicks. He might not have had the longest career in the rap game, but he made, pun intended, a BIG impact on the brief time he graced the mic. He changed how New York Hip Hop was perceived in the mid to late Œ90s, and his influence is still inescapable now, three years after his tragic end.
Biggie is one of the few contemporary emcees who got put on due to his sheer lyrical ability, nothing else. His "demo," if you could call it that, was just him dropping fat ass lyrics over EPMD instrumentals and "Blind Alley" by the Emotions (The "Ain¹t No Half Steppin¹" beat). This tape started to circulate around the NYC, and eventually ended up the right sets of hands. One set of hands belonged to Matt Life, who ran the "Unsigned Hype" section of The Source. After featuring B.I.G. as one of the primo unsigned artists back in ¹92, Matt let his friend Sean "Puffy" Combs hear the tape. I really don¹t need to explain the rest.
Biggie¹s first appearance on wax was the obscure posse cut, "A Bunch of N--gas," the last track form Heavy D¹s Blue Funk album in 1993. His first single was "Party & Bullshit," the opening track of the Who¹s the Man soundtrack. That single alone proved he was going to be something B.I.G. Between stashing two .22 in his shoes and trying to some hottie pissy-drunk off of Dom Perignon so he can put hickeys on her chest like Little Shawn, he revels in late night NYC house party debauchery. He then proclaims "Ain¹t no stopping Big Poppa, I¹m a Bad Boy!!!!!!" That line inspired his label¹s name.
The rest is self-evident. Biggie went on to record the classic Ready to Die, the post-humously-released and decidedly uneven Life After Death, and did a whole slew of guest appearances. Not only did both of his albums go multi-platinum, they also showed that New York could sell lots of records in the gangsta rap era.
Though the Pop scene remembers him for tracks like "Big Poppa," "Hypnotize," and "Mo¹ Money, Mo¹ Problems," Biggie Smalls the Savage really shined when he got down and dirty. Just check the lyrics that he flipped on braggadocio tracks like "Kick in the Door" and "Unbelievable." His wicked imagery of "lights get dimmer down Biggie¹s hallway," is damn near incomparable. Or even his house party/fuck-the-world anthem "The What," a back and forth verse flip with Method Man. He could also change up his lyrical flows, like on "What¹s Beef," a talent that the seemingly infinite Biggie imitators are lacking.
Biggie was also an extremely visual emcee, writing some of the most detailed story rhymes ever inscribed on vinyl. Take the intricate plot of "N--ga¹s Bleed," flawless in its inclusion of his enemy¹s car getting towed for parking in front of a hydrant. Or the haunting revenge fantasy of "Warning," where those who plot his downfall are hunted down like scared deer.
Tragically, Biggie was killed in drive-by shooting in March of ¹97, while he was doing promo appearances to begin hyping Life After Death. He was killed in a drive-by shooting was has yet to be solved. Though rumors abound about what lead to his death, the general public may never know.
Regardless of what happened, Hip Hop lost one of its brightest stars when all was said and done. The cobbled together recently released Born Again couldn¹t recapture his magic or do justice to his memory. True honoring of B.I.G. is only possible with true appreciation of the man¹s music and what he meant to Hip Hop.. Biggie was a true lyrical force, a dominating presence whenever his touched the mic. There was no way getting around him on track. There¹ll never be another like him. He truly was the illest. Jesse Ducker
Freaky Tah of The Lost Boyz--The Good Die Young
As early as 1995, The Lost Boyz were making their presence felt on the undergound hip hop scene. ŒLifestyles of the Rich and Shameless¹ was getting major airplay on mix-tapes and late night mix shows. There was a brief bidding war for their services between Uptown Records and Bad Boy Entertainment. Uptown eventually won out and put out the first commercial single on the group, ŒJeeps, Lex Coups, Bimaz & Benz.¹ It was an instant hit and propelled the group to stardom. With the success of the next single, ŒRenee¹ the group was moved directly to the parent label, Universal.
The debut album Legal Drug Money was certified gold. The Lost Boyz were established as the kings of party records. Any deejay that wanted to get the party jumping would play any of the aforementioned singles or ŒMusic Makes High¹ . Subsequently ŒMusic Makes Me High¹ was remixed with additional vocals from the Dogg Pound and Canibus.
The stakes were high as the group returned with an equally intense sophomore LP, Love Peace & Nappiness. Fueled by underground favorites like ŒBeast of the East¹ featuring Redman, A+ and Canibus and ŒMe and My Crazy World¹, the LP quickly went gold. The group unlike many of it¹s peers had not fallen victim to the sophomore jinx.
As the Lost Boyz were recording their highly anticipated third album, tragedy struck. Freaky Tah, born Raymond Rogers was shot and killed outside of a party in the same Queens neighborhood that the group was from and so strongly represented. Later, the death would be linked to an ongoing distribute with a rival click. Unlike the deaths of Tupac Shakur and the Notorious BIG, the gunman Kelvin Jones and his driver Raheem Fletcher were apprehended by police within a month.
Although not the lead vocalist of the group, Freaky Tah was the heart and soul of the group. Functioning primarily as a hype man, Tah was the driving force behind the bounce effect that was key to the group¹s success. Tah¹s gruffy voice was the perfect compliment to Cheek¹s straightforward rhyming technique.
"If Cheeks was the right nostril, Tah was the left. They were like brothers," explains Canibus.
Canibus continues, "They could make records that would have the club rocking. As much as I try I can¹t make music like that. I can only do my thing." With a bleek outlook, the group continued recording the third Lost Boyz¹ LP, LB IV Life. Freaky Tah is on the intro, outro and four cuts on the album. The first single ŒGhetto Jiggy¹ was vintage Lost Boyz, as Tah provided the backdrop for Cheeks vocals. Unfortunately, the album which was released exactly six months after Freaky Tah¹s death was a commercial failure.
The three remaining members of the group have remained close but Mr. Cheeks is currently working on a solo album. Tah¹s wife has given birth to their third child which she was carrying at the time of his death and the whole LB family continues to grieve silently for their fallen brother. Yves Erwin Salomon
Big Pun--RIP Big Player
"I¹m not a player, I just crush a lot."
Those words ushered in what was to be a new era in Latin Rap. Mellow Man Ace was the first to take it to nationwide commercial success, followed, of course by Cypress Hill, the group that contained his brother, Sen Dogg. Fat Joe got his styles in as well, and after he laid his claim to Rap fame, he introduced us to a man close enough to him to be called his brother. That Rapper, was Christopher Rios, aka Big Punisher.
Big Pun, as he was called, wasn¹t the first Latin act to go platinum, but he was the first solo Latin act to do so.
There are many big Rappers who have come and gone in this game. The Fat Boys made it almost cool, in a clown sort of way to be fat, and Heavy D made it nearly suave to be an "overweight lover" in his heyday. But the kind of large that was Big Pun was anything but cool.
That largeness cost him his life.
I remember seeing the photo of him in The Source, where he was a fly, svelte man of just under two hundred pounds. The transformation was incredible.
We all heard the stories of how he no longer cared to fly after being stuck in the bathroom on an airplane. That should have been a signal that his weight was a serious thing. But we wanted the entertainment, and he gave it to us.
Any of us who had seen the big man perform knew that sometimes he was so exhausted from carrying the burden that was a part of him, that he was too winded to fully deliver the powerful lines he was able to record in the studio.
But his fans loved him anyway.
And so did his wife and kids.
Pun¹s wife and friend of thirteen years, Liza, vows to be strong without her man, and promises to never re-marry. She says that his eating problem was emotional, that he would eat whenever he got happy or sad. Food was what he went to no matter what the occasion.
Both Liza Rios and Fat Joe tried to get Big Pun to understand the danger of his weight, but there was a serious problem. A problem that, while never talked about in any Rapper¹s rhymes, affects throngs in the Hip Hop generation.
Eating disorder.
It¹s a dirty word like AIDS is a dirty word and no one wants to deal with it, but, again, the Hip Hop generation is affected by all of the realities and ironies of life.
On "It¹s So Hard," the first single from Pun¹s posthumously-released album, Yeeeeah Baby!, he sounds off "I just lost a hundred pounds! I¹m trying to live!" Those words met much confusion from fans who wondered how he could have just begun to lose weight, but still die from being overweight.
The summer before his death, Big Pun placed himself in a weight-loss program at Duke University in North Carolina. He did lose one hundred pounds, but once he returned to New York, he gained nearly twice the amount right back. At his death, Big Pun weighed six hundred and ninety-eight pounds.
On February 7 of this year, Christopher Rios, aka Big Pun slipped away as the result of a heart attack and respiratory failure. James Mosley
There have been many more than we could cover here. During the preparation of this piece, we lost two more--tktk of The Nonce and Q-Don of NAAM. Just before he began seriously recording his latest album, DJ Quik had to mourn the loss of Topp Dogg, one of his closest friends. New York still mourns the death of Big L and Los Angeles still mourns the death of DJ Rob One, who lost his battle to cancer this past March. Sadly, there will be many more to come, some from living life too fast and some from simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Death and taxes are a simple fact of life. Hip Hop is a living, breathing art form that will be affected by the joy, the pain, the sadness...the same sadness that all human beings must deal with.
Will the art form change? No. Will all of those who bring us the art change their lifestyles?
I doubt it.
We can hope and pray that we don¹t lose one more player in the game, but the best we can do is accept it when it happens.
