Posts Tagged ‘Kool Herc’

Now, in continuation of my explanation and opinion of why your hip hop sucks, I decided to kick some knowledge and delve a little deeper into the “what the fuck” situation this genre has become.

Today is the 37th birthday of hip hop. That’s right, kiddies; Hip Hop is now the same age your mom, dad, favorite auntie, anyone you could think of. November is also recognized as Hip Hop History Month, the month of the annual celebration of this anniversary by the Zulu Nation (if you scratched your head, please go read something…seriously.) This day and this month is a celebration of what Hip Hop was and always will be to the enthusiasts: A celebration of a culture, a CULTURE, that  encompassed the elemental components of  emceeing, DJ-ing, graffing (spray-painting if you will) and the dancing styles of breaking, popping & locking and knowledge. KNOWLEDGE, kids.

The father, the daddy, (if it were possible for Hip Hop to have a DNA test, he would be the positive outcome in a Maury episode) of this culture is none other than DJ Kool Herc. No, not Afrika Bambaataa, Kool Herc (I’ve actually had people try to argue with me on this, so that’s why I’m saying it that way).  This gentleman is credited for taking the ingredients of Soul, Jazz, Funk and Disco, mixing that shit up and putting those ingredients in the oven of  the rec room at 1520 Sedgwick Avenue, in the Bronx and becoming one of the people to start a revolution. Time progresses, Afrika, being one of the leaders at the time of the Fraternal Order of the The Black Spades, leaves and forms the Zulu Nation and then helps to spread the name “Hip Hop” as originated by Love Bug Starski.

By the time I entered this world, the seeds of Hip Hop had taken root and was starting to flourish. By its first decade I was around four or five, hanging out with my bigger cousins (or trying to) and soaking it in. Watching the older kids of the block try to spin on their heads on a broken down cardboard box and doing the wop (failed miserably…I had zero rhythm at that time) when someone had their boombox outside. Yeah that’s right, mofos. Boombox. A big ass stereo that took like fifty D batteries and weighed more than a newborn baby in some cases, that damn contraption lived up to its name.

Hip Hop was essentially underground, it was getting out and being played for the masses but it was still pure in a sense. It had yet to be tainted.

“When did you first fall in love with Hip Hop?” : This question seems cheesy but it’s valid. Not too many can really pinpoint and recall. Ask anyone older than me and it might indeed be the first time they went to a block party, rec party and listened to what Kool Herc brought forth from his equipment. It might be the first they heard “Planet Rock” and knew that something was in the air. It might be when they realized that there was a voice coming out that helped to release the anger and frustrations of an economical downturn and other factors. The Bronx, hell, New York was pretty shitty back then, lack of jobs, NYPD were bigger assholes than they are now (no one get their panties in a wad because I am not anti-police, but I can say that some cops are assholes..deal with it.). The youth at that time needed a release. Y’all can’t even understand it, because the youth of today are so babied, spoiled, and Dr. Phil parented, that it’s funny.

Hip Hop when first created was meant to be uplifting, challenging, thought-provoking, raise awareness. It was meant as an avenue for love, unity, having a good fucking time, it was meant to get AWAY from the negativity, not glorify it. What the fuck happened?

Part III…I’m going to psycho-analyze the fuck out of this shit..

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