TAKE THE STAGE STORIES OF HIP HOP VOLUME ONE
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MATTIA ZOPELLARO 02 THE gomorrah ISSUE
TAKE THE STAGE STORIES OF HIP HOP VOLUME ONE EDITOR Ed Andrews ART DIRECTION Rob Longworth WORDS Ed Andrews, Corin Douieb PHOTOGRAPHY Liz Seabrook, Tim Smyth, Ed Andrews, Spencer Murphy, Mattia Zopellaro THANKS Grindstone Promotions, The Church of London, Stig of the Dump, Ben Black, Slim Pickens, Mr Thing, Mike Lewis, Paul Willoughby, Inja, Danielle Richardson, Alex Capes, Danny Miller
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STIG OF THE DUMP “THE WHOLE WORLD HAS JUST BECOME SOFT. IT’S ALL ABOUT HEALTH AND SAFETY, FOLLOWING RULES BEING FUCKING STUPID. WHEREAS I’M NOT ABOUT THAT, I’M AGAINST THE GRAIN, I’M ABOUT BEING TRUE TO SELF AND BUGGING OUT!”
“I’m a hater, for want of a better word, I’ve even got t-shirts that say hater on them,” says UK hip hop emcee Stig of the Dump. “But that’s more about the opposite, that’s more about a love for hip hop that’s so intense that I’m not willing to accept bullshit.” The first thing you notice about Stig is just how much presence he has. Not just in a physical sense but in general character, projecting love, hate and a relentless passion with his words. As we speak, he reclines back into a small sofa in the Lewis Recordings office, the label that’s about to release his first full-length album, Mood Swings. His interlocked fingers rest across his chest yet despite his relaxed poise, he’s far from mellow, launching into long monologues about life, music and, in particular, death – often before conceding that he’s going too deep into things. “[The name] Mood Swings reflects me as a person, like I’m up and down quite a bit,” says Stig in his diluted Geordie accent. “There is definitely more of a serious element there but there’s also the moronic thing. I can understand that’s not going to be to everyone’s tastes, but I make music for myself, so it’s a reminder of how much fun I can have making music.” But for a self-confessed joker, there is a deeper, and slightly darker, motivation for making music, namely an obsession with mortality. “I haven’t read it but there’s a book by Ernest Becker called The Denial of Death. His thesis [apparently] is that any truly artistic endeavour stems from a subconscious desire to surpass your own mortality. That’s very much the truth of me [sic],” he explains with an honesty that’s almost alarming. “I’m an insomniac sometimes, so I just lie awake thinking about the concept of death and that sounds really morbid but like the whole concept of nothingness forever just fucks my head.” It’s obvious that Stig is someone who has a lot of thoughts going through his head, and he isn’t shy of sharing them. So the fact that he has twice won End of the Weak - an emceeing contest that attracts talent from across the globe to showcase their lyrical skills – and become recognised as
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one of the UK’s most talented microphonists, is unsurprising. It almost seems emceeing is a necessity for the man born into an army family in Newcastle the best part of three decades ago. However, after leaving the “alcoholism, football and fighting” of his hometown just over five years ago, he moved down to London, ending up sleeping rough and sofa surfing while putting out his debut EP, the aptly-titled The Homeless Microphonist. It was during this time that a bizarre twist of fate saw Stig’s talents picked up by none other than pop crooner Robbie Williams. Although Stig remains vague about the deal, he was briefly given a retainer by the wealthy popstar. For some, such a core act taking handouts from such a mainstream artist would be considered artistically suspect, but Stig views it with pragmatism. After all, it’s something that put a roof over his head. “To be honest, it was never something I envisaged doing in my career, but I was homeless and the opportunity arose,” says Stig of the arrangement. “It was never really said what he wanted me to do like, but we discussed possible ghost writing. It never came through but I’m not bitter about the situation.” Yet despite this brief dip into this commercial world, where Stig is today has simply been the result of many years of live shows, proving his worth on stage with disregard for what is deemed ‘cool’ - even trying to start mosh pits at his shows. Beyond the morbidity, Stig genuinely seems to carry himself with that don’t-give-a-fuck attitude, luckily he happens to have the talent to back it up too. “I think society has lost its ‘fuck you’ attitude,” he says, once again unashamedly venting his thoughts in a long monologue. “The whole world has just become soft. It’s all about health and safety, following rules being fucking stupid. Whereas I’m not about that, I’m against the grain, I’m about being true to self and bugging out! I’ve got too much going on in my head but it all disappears when I’m rapping live. There’s nowhere in the world I’m happier than when I’m on stage. I’m addicted to that feeling.” EA
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LIZ SEABROOK
LEWIS RECORDINGS “I’VE NEVER TAKEN A PENNY OUT OF LEWIS RECORDINGS SO APART FROM WHAT THE ARTISTS HAVE BEEN PAID FOR THEIR ROYALTIES, EVERYTHING JUST GOES STRAIGHT BACK INTO KEEPING IT GOING.”
In a studio basement in Clerkenwell, Central London, there exists a musical treasure trove, a den that would make crate diggers weep with joy and keep them occupied for decades. Floor-to-ceiling shelves are crammed with CDs, vinyl and merchandise, and there’s even a homemade robot lurking in the corner. Sitting at the hub of the disc den is Mike Lewis, the man responsible for putting out some fine hip hop, indie and pop on his self-titled label Lewis Recordings. Mike started putting out records way back in 1989 from a basement flat in Belsize Park under the name Mikey Mike Records. “It was just sort of jazzy, hip hop, De La Soul-type stuff, so I was doing the music and a few friends were MCs,” says Mike of this first short lived venture. “I’ve always liked the idea of doing a label.” After many years working in the music industry in various guises including running record shops, promotions, freelance journalism, photography and starting his own mail order shop, he finally went back to putting out records thanks to a chance discovery. In 2001, he was sent the record of an emcee and producer called Edan, on the recommendation of a musician friend, Mr Complex. Recalls Mike: “I played it, and instantly thought, this is amazing. And I was thinking, ‘maybe we could sell a couple of hundred copies?’ So I sort of started the label.” Choosing a name however, was the first of many challenges. After weighing up many “absolutely terrible” suggestions, he settled on using his surname. Explains Mike: “[I wanted something] generic, like John Lewis or Sainsbury’s. It was partly a joke. I’m sure some people think, ‘Jesus, the man’s a megalomaniac,’ but then it was almost like a Warner Brothers, Disney thing, so I thought I’d stick my name on it,” This single, the now classic Mic Manipulator, went onto sell over 10,000 copies, and Lewis Recordings had officially arrived. Since then, he has accumulated a number of artists including Brooklyn’s Andrew Thompson, Japanese girl group Cinnamon and twice End of the Weak emcee champion Stig of the Dump. With this expansion over the last decade, comes
administration, accounts and chasing royalties whenever a Lewis record is played on the radio. It’s something Mike agrees draws him away from spending time developing talent and has made it a constant struggle to get by. “I’ve never taken a penny out of Lewis Recordings,” maintains Mike. “So apart from what the artists have been paid for their royalties, everything just goes straight back into keeping it going.” But with so much talent out there, how do you go about choosing the right artists to invest in. “I guess the thought in the back of my head is, would I like to buy a copy of this?” says Mike. “And in some cases, like Cinnamon, I’ve had to buy 5,000 copies because no one else did!” In an age of digital music, downloads and artist publishing sites such as Soundcloud and MySpace, is there still a place for the traditional record label? Although recognising the game has changed, Mike remains convinced that labels still have an important role to play. “A record label is a bit like a filtering process. If you look at what is out on the web, there’s an infinite choice, how are you going to decide what you hear? It’s going to be word of mouth or it’s going to be a record label you know.” Mike elaborates, clearly having given the subject some thought. “Labels are good at getting things noticed. A lot of artists think, ‘Oh, I can put it up on iTunes myself.’ But you can’t get a direct deal with iTunes anymore. They obviously get hundreds of thousands of submissions saying, ‘I’ve got an album, can I put it out?’ And I think it’s something like 80% of digitally available tracks have never had a single download.” And while some labels are keen to cut poor deals with artists in pursuit of the bottom line, Lewis Recordings strives to “do good” and maintain that indie integrity, splitting all profits with the artists 50:50. “We also want to change the perception that labels exploit artists,” explains Mike. “Everyone here has the same deal and if their music sells they’ll get paid. Lewis Recordings is hopefully a fun place to be for everyone from artists to staff. If it’s not enjoyable then what’s the point?” EA
LIZ SEABROOK
MR THING “PUT ME IN A SMALL CLUB WITH A FEW HUNDRED PEOPLE WHO KNOW WHAT THEY WANT TO LISTEN TO ANY DAY, THAN A BIG CLUB WHO WANT ALL COMMERCIAL STUFF.”
Rude, shrewd and socially inept, DJ’s are not generally known to be the most amiable of folk. So it becomes overtly noticeable when one DJ continues to shine; both in serious club prowess and the type of geniality that makes you a cup of tea and plays you a ton of ultra-rare breaks at the same time. This mega-galactic niceness goes by the name of Mr Thing. While his battle-honed scratching and precision mixes are the envy of every generation of turntablists, Kent-raised Mr Thing AKA Marc Bowles excels in being a genuine ego-less gent. And that’s saying something for someone who’s won the UK DMCs and the World DMC team title as part of the Scratch Perverts. “I couldn’t tell you the first record I picked up but I do remember buying Adam and The Ants – Kings of the Wild Frontier.” says a consistently smiling Thing. “There’s a heavy drum break at the front, so it wasn’t such a bad start!” But after hearing a Streetsounds compliation album at his local youth club in his early teens, his scratch destiny was set in stone. “I was just like ‘wow’. I was like ‘I gotta learn that’. I must have battered up that kid’s records pretty bad,” he laughs. He bought first turntables in 1989 (funded from a paper round) and his mammoth (understatement of the year!) record collection started to blossom as he spent his days perusing the recording establishments of Sevenoaks and Tonbridge Wells as well as travelling to London’s legendary Mr Bongo store at any point possible. Soon enough, Marc became ‘Thing’ from both the Fantastic Four character (“he was a big battling machine, and at the time I was doing competitions”) and The Addams Family (“the hand that did everything”), but it was DJ First Rate who eventually added the ‘Mr’. Although he describes his first forays in to battling as “terrifying”, Thing sternly puts forward the advice of not to do it unless you are 100% ready. “First three I went for, I wasn’t ready. I practised hard, and was even a bit cocky, and it always went wrong. I felt like I needed to fuck up a few
times so I would think ‘don’t do it like that again.’” The losing streak didn’t last long though. “The first big battle I entered, I smacked it,” says Thing. “It was just before I started the DMCs and I was teaching this guy in Tonbridge Wells to DJ. Word started getting back to me that he was saying he could beat me. So I rang him up, challenged him, we battled and I took him apart. I had my best move ever, I almost want to take up battling so I can use it on someone else, it was priceless. I had the acapella of [De La Soul’s] ‘Stakes Is High’ ready when he says ‘I think smiling in public is against the law’ and I repeated that a few times. Then I stopped everything. I had nicked a tray from McDonalds with empty Happy Meal cartons on it. I walked over handed him the tray, walked back to my turntables and cut in Jungle Brothers saying ‘drop you off in Mickey D’s get yourself a Happy Meal’ and then next line is ‘how you want it I got it – oh yeah’ and the whole place went bananas.” But despite having been one of the founding members of Scratch Perverts - after meeting Tony Vegas and DJ First Rate in Mr Bongos - and getting props the world over from the likes of Mark Ronson and DJ Premier, he still gets disgruntled purists casting a doubtful eye over his use for Serato Scratch. “A lot of stuff doesn’t even come out of vinyl anymore. For travelling, working DJs, Serato is one of the best things to ever happen.” But he concedes that it has its down sides. “A lot of people have all the new music on Serato but don’t understand it or know how to put it together. Put me in a small club with a few hundred people who know what they want to listen to any day, than a big club who want all commercial stuff.” “Its tricky to find a balance sometimes,” he laughs ‘I’m just stuck in my ways and I know what I like’. When what you like is as good as Mr Thing’s playlist, that isn’t a problem. CD
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SPENCER MURPHY
DELUSIONISTS “WE PROBABLY TALK SHIT A LOT MORE THAN YOUR NORMAL HUMBLE UK HIP HOP ACT WOULD. I SUPPOSE WE ARE MORE AMERICAN IN OUR MINDS AS WE ARE NOT AFRAID TO SUCCEED IF WE CAN.”
“In UK hip hop, there’s a certain romance about doing something that’s deliberately a bit crap,” says Ben Black dryly over an autumnal al fresco beer in Shoreditch’s Strongrooms. It’s quite a statement for the 28-year-old emcee and producer to make, who along with fellow emcee DBF and deejay/ producer Slim Pickens, make up Delusionists. Together, the unassumingly presented trio are sitting amongst the trendy post-work drinkers in East London, throwing around selfdeprecating banter in between earnest declarations of intent for their music. “We are quite aware of how much of a cul-de-sac UK hip hop is,” says Slim Pickens, sharing Ben’s critical stance. “Even the people who are considered the most successful in that scene get pigeonholed and a bit stuck.” Being critical of your home scene is a difficult – and brave – line for any emerging group to tread. After all, it’s such people from the ‘scene’ who turn up to gigs and spread the word. Regardless of this, it’s one that the group is keen to tackle. But it doesn’t come from bitterness or hate, merely a compulsion to do things right. As childhood friends from their native Lowestoft in Suffolk, Ben Black and fellow emcee DBF began ‘fannying about making music’ over a decade ago. After recording their first track ‘To The Next…’ in 2007, they recruited Slim Pickens for deejaying and joint beat-making duties shortly after. Their first EP release as one unit The Prolusion dropped in 2009, with a revamped version called Prolusion Plus dropping in May 2010. Early days it may be, but they aren’t afraid to think big. “We probably talk shit a lot more than your normal humble UK hip hop act would,” concedes Ben, with self-awareness as opposed to arrogant bravado. “I suppose we are more American in our minds as we are not afraid to succeed if we can.” It’s an attitude that is shared by DBF: “We don’t want to be seen as a UK hip hop group in the traditional sense.
Nothing against that but we want to be a group that makes hip hop that happens to be from the UK.” This may be splitting hairs a little but you get the impression that it’s important for them to make this distinction. While they are keen to stress their love and respect for many UK artists, they seem to want to distance themselves from them as well. “Hip hop is the most dogmatic genre there is,” says Slim Pickens of the puritanical snobbery that some hip hop heads carry. “It used to always be about being creative, innovative and different. […] Now you can only do things in a certain way.” It seems that the fact that Ben, Slim and DBF work as a marketing executive, magazine editor and boxing coach respectively has given them both some distance from such core attitudes and a discipline to work harder, but this also sets their ambition firmly in the real world. “The time that we do get to [make music] is more precious and more focused,” says Slim of their creative process. “Before I moved to London, I used to sit around smoking weed and making beats but I didn’t talk to anyone or network. When I got a proper job in London […] that made me a lot more focused and professional.” “Also, it makes us be more appreciative of our position when we are performing,” says DBF of this part-time vocation. “Anyone respecting your music is such a buzz. You go back to work the next day with a big smile on your face.” “People don’t really get it where I work though,” laughs Ben before mimicking a mock high pitched voice. “They go ‘Oh, can you do some rapping for us?’” Ultimately, Delusionists seem to be torn between a love of hip hop and an aware of its shortcomings. There are no rosetinted spectacles but no cynicism either: just a simple desire to enjoy making decent music, and see where it takes them. EA
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ED ANDREWS
INJA “I’VE BEEN INVOLVED IN MUSIC AS LONG AS I REMEMBER, YOU KNOW? I’VE GOT FAMILY THAT WERE IN BANDS; SINGERS, PRODUCERS, ARTISTS.”
“I don’t want to sound like a cunt or nothing, but could I change before you take photos,” laughs Inja with massive grin that seems to light up the whole room. The first thing that you notice about this Lilliputian emcee is his bold charisma, it’s this quality that has seen him host the UK DMC Finals this evening and seeps through his high-pitched rhymes. “I’ve been involved in music as long as I remember, you know?” he tells me from the backstage area. “I’ve got family that were in bands; singers, producers, artists.” Want to do any name-dropping? “Nah,” he says simply, but still with a smile. Originally a part of Cambridge-based Delegates of Culture, Inja has struck out on his own since 2004, collaborating with the likes of Taskforce, Phi Life Cypher and Foreign Beggars. But its his 2009 single Hat Low that has been his most notable, an anthemic tune professing a love that unites hip hop heads the world over - those essential style accessories of baseball cap and hoodie. If you recognised the chorus ‘I wear my hat down low so my eyes don’t show so when the cameras click it won’t steal my soul’, it originated from an old Fallacy line. Asking Fallacy’s permission to use it soon turned to the veteran MC putting down his own verse and being joined by another longtimer, Skinnyman, after Inja played it to him at one of his shows. “For me it was a big accomplishment,” he says proudly. Accompanied by a high production video from director Archangel, it got picked up by MTV Bass, a rarity for artists 014 THE gomorrah ISSUE
considered to be ‘UK hip hop’. “I paid dough for it, yeah,” he says. “But ultimately, I got a real good look. It was shot on film, I mean, I’d never even seen what real film looks like.” But it doesn’t seem that this charisma is going to spill over to arrogance at this achievement. He still remains in Cambridge, working as a teacher in English and music technology at a learning support unit. “It’s very challenging but it’s one of the best jobs I’ve ever had in my life. Apart from being on stage, nothing really tops it.” Independent hip hop, UK especially, has never been a hugely lucrative scene. It sees the majorty of artists holding down day jobs, being semi-professional at best. So is being a full time artist unachievable nowadays? “You can do it but you’ve got to step your game up and grind really hard. There are certain things in life that I want first before I go all out on music,” he says with disarming honesty. “To try that puts you on really hard times. It might start pretty but a lot of the time it doesn’t end that way. I’m a control freak so I just want my personal life to be secure.” Currently running his own night called /Soundclash/, Inja still claims to hold lofty ambitions to unite the worlds of hip hop and grime. “I started off in the UK hip hop scene, and it’s not like I’m bigger than that, but I think everyone is bigger than being labelled in a genre. The name is minor, it’s actually what everyone does, how productive and what elements they want to draw influence from.” EA
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TIM SMYTH
VOLUME TWO COMING SOON
©2011 016 THE gomorrah ISSUE