Tag Archives: Prefuse 73

08/22/2018 · 8:10 pm

Beastie Boys

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Filed under Bad Influences, Comix Classic & Current, Faint Signals, Nostalgic Obsessions, Thousand Listen Club

Tagged as 1980s, 1986, 1989, 1990s, 1992, 1994, 1998, 2000s, 2011, Adam Horovitz, Adam Yauch, alternative music, Bands I Useta Like, Beastie Boys, Cheap Trick, comic, DJ Hurricane, DJ Shadow, Dweezil Zappa, Eric Bobo, Fatboy Slim, Fight Club, Frank Zappa, Groove Holmes, hardcore, hip hop, Jimmy McGriff, Jimmy Smith, Little Ceasar's, Mike Diamond, music, Prefuse 73, strips, The Ben Stiller Show, The Dust Brothers, turntables

01/03/2016 · 12:00 am

Sampling in hip-hop is important because it can send you backward in time, when it’s done well. It’s crate-digging shared on wax. The best samples offer a window into the mind of the producer, and a peek at the most obscure records in their vault. Since legally all sources must be credited, you can check the liners and draw up a shopping list. The torch of the turntable is carried on.

And oftentimes, forgotten geniuses of the past get their due.

There’s an unspoken rule in hip-hop culture; it’s based in appropriation, so it’s all about forging something fresh out of a juxtaposition of elements. A sample is looped over a beat by a DJ, before the MC begins to rap. The right samples are crucial; they provide the hook of tonal immortality.

ursample1
The handsome gent in the photo above is David McCallum. He is the most widely-heard yet unknown dude in rap music.

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Filed under Comix Classic & Current, Faint Signals, Nostalgic Obsessions, Thousand Listen Club

Tagged as #tbt, 1960s, 1968, 1969, 1970s, 1980s, 1987, 3 6 Mafia, Above The Law, Beastie Boys, Cold 187um, crate-digging, David Axelrod, David McCallum, DJ Shadow, Dr. Dre, Eric B. & Rakim, glitch, hip hop, jail, parental advisory labels, Prefuse 73, rap, RjD2, sampling, Snoop Doggy Dogg, Willie Hutch, xenochrony

09/08/2015 · 3:59 pm

Atlanta Is My Lady

You wanna know how to tell if a city is your home? When terrible things happen to you there, and it never occurs to you to leave. You don’t abandon your home. You stay and tough it out.

There was a night during my stay in Fulton County Jail where all of us were herded into the rec area, so that the guards could search the ward for contraband. Apparently some inmates had been smoking weed in their cell. Since that cell was mine, and one of the inmates was me, I spent my time in the rec room deep in contemplation. As time wore on no quicker than molasses, we all started to chat to break the tension.

The cement room was sweltering. The walls were nine feet high, rimmed with cyclone fencing. If I jumped vertically, I could catch a glimpse of the glimmering Atlanta skyline I missed so terribly. This was soothing. Some of the inmates I’d befriended took notice, and I eagerly explained myself. It was the first view of the city I’d had in a month.

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