MyCypher.com recently released the first episode of their new web based series Hip Hop Worldwide: Brazil. The series will cover the events of the MyCypher team's trip to Brazil to take part in the Hutuz Hip Hop Festival, throw a MyCypher sponsored concert and sample Brazilian hip hop as a whole.
Hip Hop legend Bobbito, official U.S. Hip Hop Ambassador Toni Blackman and producer/MC Nobody Famous were all guests of MyCypher to not only foster some artistic interaction but also to capture their reactions to, and impressions of Brazil's hip hop scene.
First off this is definitely not a complete coverage of hip hop in Tokyo or Kyoto (not even close) but it is one person's quick shots and bits of hip hop in Japan. Japan was refreshing in that other visits to different parts of Asia didn't really show much hip hop influence, but this was not the case in Tokyo and Kyoto. It wasn't necessarily in your face but if you looked you could find it. Below are some of the images and video I managed to capture.
This is a poster I spotted in Kyoto advertising a new hip hop album.
This is a poster for a local hip hop event.
Pretty crazy "DJ" video game in an arcade. It was hard to figure out why you needed to even scratch, since most of the action seemed to be handled by the buttons.
Interesting poster warning people to guard their info when using the ATM. Interesting clothing the "suspicious" people are wearing. Guess the hoodie has as bad a rep in Japan as the UK?
Inside Product Classics in Harajuku.
History and inspiration for Product Classics.
Next stop is Kicks Lab.
A couple of images of an alley in Harajuku where most of the men's clothing stores are.
and finally, a quick video of from a hip hop club in Roppongi, a part of Tokyo where there are lots of foreigners from all over the world and a popular partying spot.
Frequent MyCypher contributor Daniel Zarazua recently posted up a nice album of photographs from a recent trip to Taiwan. The pictures show off graf and other aspects of hip hop culture, including the influence of Latino or Chicano styles on Taiwan's hip hop culture.
I was recently turned on to Abraham Borhóquez Sánchez
of the Bolivian-based group Ukamau y Ké and spent hours listening to
his music and reading about his career. Unfortunately, he passed away
this past May. Yet I was so impressed that I felt the need to help
promote his legacy.
Although I don't keep up with it like I used to, I'm hardly one to deny
the power of hip hop. In fact, a key reason that I became an educator
was because I listened to it. Still, after 25 years of listening, it takes
a lot to hold my attention. However, I was recently turned on to
Abraham Borhóquez Sánchez of the Bolivian-based group Ukamau y Ké and
spent hours listening to his music and reading about his career.
Unfortunately, he passed away this past May. Yet I was so impressed
that I felt the need to help promote his legacy.
Firstly, as an MC he addressed many
social justice related issues, included giving voice to the Indigenous
community of Bolivia, critiquing the government, and addressing topics
such as alcoholism and the criminalization of youth. He was able to
connect these local issues with larger global ones and connect with the
youth, which most adults don't seem to do. Although he was making a
name for himself in hip hop, he wasn't above critiquing it,
particularly in the context of Bolivian youth placing the U.S. on a
pedestal regarding pop culture. At the same time, he recognized hip hop
as a tool that young people often more readily accept. As a social
activist Sanchez brought a wealth of experience, including time as a
sweatshop worker in Brazil and as a soldier in the Bolivian army.
Secondly, he apparently was humble
enough to collaborate with many other artists and as a result I was
turned on to others in the Bolivian hip-hop scene, a scene of which I
know nothing about. There are emcees who do songs in Indigenous
languages to help instill pride in Indigenous youth and others
addressing topics such as HIV and sexism. To top it off, many of these
emcees have serious skills, something not to be taken lightly along the
more conscious crowd. Although these topics have been addressed before,
it was powerful to hear it from a South American context, from a
country that gets little coverage in the United States.
If you consider yourself a hip-hop fan,
someone concerned with issues of social justice, or simply broadening
your horizons, please take some time to check out the links below, of
which the first two address the efforts of Afro-Bolivians to earn some
basic civil rights. Although Sanchez was not of African descent, he
recognized the common thread in all oppressed communities and was
instrumental in helping get a documentary about the Afro-Brazilian
civil rights struggle off the ground.
It's a truly a tragedy that his life
ended at such a young age of 26, but it's safe to say that his legacy
will live on. Within a short time he's certainly changed my world view
and from what I've come across I certainly am not the only one. He was
one of those talents who keeps jaded hip hop fans such as myself coming
back and appreciative that the revolutionary aspects of hip hop are
still in effect. He will certainly be missed!
Palestinian hip hop group DAM is widely known as the first Arab hip hop group. They recently wrapped up a U.S. tour and were also heavily featured in the hip hop documentary Slingshot Hip Hop. Check out the MyCypher.com exclusive video below from their visit to the University of Southern California and read more about them here.
MyCypher.com has launched the online Cypher! The site allows users from all over the world to battle in real time online. Kick your freestyle or favorite bars into the interface and your rhyme is posted instantly to the Cypher where the whole world can listen, rate and respond. It's an easy way to get your music out there and find, battle or collaborate with MCs around the world.
You can even spit your verse from your phone after you register it with the application. Check out the tutorial below, along with Jin doing his thing in Cantonese. Register for and use the application here.
(Note: This interview is brought to us by Domingo Yu, Domingoyu.com)
I know you have fans in Japan, but how's the response been in Puerto Rico? I
have no following here. Even the little EP I put specifically together
for the island didn't do much. I came over to promote it, but one trips
not going to do it. Besides that little attempt, I haven't tried. I
think one reason is that hip hop isn't too big here. That EP had more
dancehall beats to make it more digestible, but I mostly rhyme in
English and this is a Spanish-speaking island. If I had a huge
marketing machine, it would be different. They all know about bout 50
Cent and Eminem. Rapping in Spanish would help, especially on the
underground scene. Even though many people here are bilingual to an
extent, they're not enough where they can follow a hip hop song.
How would you describe the relationship between Puerto Ricans on island and on the mainland? It
depends. Many on island have relatives on mainland, so there's more
interaction. I see that many want to move to States after frequent
visits from relatives or after they've visited. They see economic
opportunties. Other folks, who often don't have a lot of family in the
States or who haven't traveled a lot, they feel that if you're born in
the States, you're not Puerto Rican, your parents are. Where ever you
were born is what you are. If you were born in
France, you were French. I was raised with Puerto Rican pride, but it
was empty. I didn't know a lot of the history and didn't speak Spanish,
which isn't our language anyway. A lot of Puerto Ricans claim all this
pride and nostalgia for the island, but many people here don't even
view them as Puerto Rican, that's where that whole Nuyorican idea came
from, that people are from New York, not Puerto Rican. Even though I
was born in New York, I'm not a Nuyorican. If you put a kitten in an
oven, that doesn't make it a muffin. I'm a Puerto Rican who was born in
New York. Across the board, on the island, if you were born in the
States, you were born "alla fuera," over there. I had a women today ask
me if I came from "alla fuera" and she asked me if I was Puerto Rican,
even though she knew I was. Coming from the United States, we're
definitely not seen as Puerto Rican, even if both parents came from
Puerto Rico. It's like we're mixed children; but that's not a bad
thing. I was exposed to a lot and I love my island, but I'm glad I was
raised somewhere else. There are certain things in the culture that get
ingrained into us that I don't agree with. For example, sometimes when
I've been at someone's house for dinner and got up to help wash dishes,
everyone would say something to me like "leave that to the women."
Never mind that the women already cooked and served all us. They still
look at me like "what's wrong with you?" Even though I'd be a visitor,
it's still gender related; they don't think I'm being a man. I'm glad I
don't think like that. It's like that in the States too, but it's
larger here. Not having grown up on the colony, I think it's been
easier for me to see how come the island is the way that it is and how
we got there. Many people on the island are too close to the situation.
It's like a relationship when everyone else can see the problems except
the people in it. I have the distance to sit back and reflect and
realize that not all of the problems on the island are due to its
people. On the other hand, when I see people do things like throw a can
out the window, it pisses me off that they'd disrespects this beautiful
island. Maybe you need to leave to appreciate it.
How'd the restaurant come about since you're so passionate about music? It
happened without trying. Years ago I began catering for people I knew
or places I worked. People just liked my cooking. After doing that
awhile I did a stand at the Berkeley Farmers' Market. People kept
asking me where the restaurant was. After a couple of years of hearing
this, I thought about having a place where people could sit any day of
the week. That was the basic idea. There's a Puerto Rican community in
the Bay and there really isn't a place to eat beyond cooking at home. I
felt I could fill a void and make a living off of it. It was never a
dream of mine. When it closed after two and a half years, many people
said they were sorry I couldn't fulfill my dream, but it was actually
easy to let go. Cooking's a passion of mine, but being a restaurant
owner was not.
From your vantage point, what was the impact of Sofrito? It
was definitely a gathering place. I ended up meeting distant cousins.
That was a common story in the restaurant, when customers would talk
and realize they were related or came from the same town. One thing
that was surprising was that we thought we knew all the Puerto Ricans
in the Bay and we realized how big the community was. We didn't realize
how important it was. We figured we'd maybe get 5-10% Puerto Ricans and
maybe some other East Coasters or Caribbean folk, but mostly we'd get a
general Bay Area crowd. It ended up being a reverse, with probably 85%
of our customers being Puerto Rican or from a neighboring island. I
just wasn't the right guy, but I hope I inspire someone else to try it
again. If I had a time machine, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't do it.
I
never felt in competition with Sol (a Puerto Rican restaurant about 40
minutes away). There were only two Puerto Rican restaurants in the
entire area. If there were like 10, I'd be competitive, but I'd always
tell people who were out that way to go there. We need more Puerto
Rican restaurants!
Now that you're a father and husband, how's that affected your music and career? In
a material sense, I have to think about how to make enough money to
make sure my family is cool. There's that added pressure, but that's
always been around for artists; balancing the creativity with
supporting your family. Beyond that, it's been great being married. I
love and respect who I am with, which has been a blessing. Being around
such a strong woman has made me look at all women differently. We're
equals, but I see her as the leader in our clan, and I'm a co-pilot.
I've already written several songs about her. In the past 12 years, if
I'm not writing about my mamma, I'm writing about her. Like when I was
younger, I wrote specifically about my issues, now I write specifically
about her. I think all women have the potential to be as great as this
woman in my life. She's never claimed to be perfect and I love her as a
whole person.
Being a father, has changed my whole outlook on
life. If I had any remnants of pessimism in me, they're gone. Being a
father has given me a new energy and motivation to keep doing what I'm doing
and to stay right; on the path that was set for me. I always felt that
words were powerful and that they could change the flow of the world,
but having a child has made it undeniable. I'm much more careful about
what I say or what I put down in a verse. I've always felt compassion
for other people, especially young people, but having a child of my own
has led me to love all children as my own. That was a feeling that I
didn't expect. I never thought I could adopt because I feel that all
children deserve to be loved like they're flesh and blood and I didn't
think I could do it. Now, there's no difference between other children
and my own. I don't know how others feel, but I think the flesh and
blood thing is more about vanity; that they share our nose or look like
us, but that's really minute. When I write, I feel like I have to be
really careful of what I say as my children are listening, whether I
know them or not. I only want to speak positive and hope, of moving
forward. That's what I feel that we need. How has your relationship with own father shaped your interacts with your son? I
was raised by a stepfather, who was a wicked man. I don't even know how
to describe him except he was a rotten human being. I learned how not
to be. A lot of my interactions are acting the opposite of how he
treated me. There are some things I'm working on and I know I have my
default emotions. My stepfather was an angry man and I don't pressure
my son to be anything he isn't. I won't put my hands on him or lose my
temper to the point I'll do something I'll regret. I didn't grow up
with a grudge against my real dad. My mother never bad mouthed him. She
said that he was always talking to me, when I was in her stomach and
when I was a baby he was always talking to me. He was around until I
was about two and ½. She let me know that he really loved me.
When
my wife was pregnant I carried that on and sang when my baby was in her
womb. I carried that tradition on. When my dad and I reconnected when I
was 19, I see that he's still like that. He'll kneel down and talk to a
two year old. I even see it with my younger brothers. They call him
"amigo." I mean, he sets boundaries and lays down the rules. There's no
question he's the "dad," but he treats them with respect. I look at
both of those examples, the good and bad and try to take from both. I'd
go through the bad stuff again if it makes me a better father, to learn
what not to do. I know now that one reason I didn't want to adopt was
because I came from a home where my stepfather not only didn't love me,
he didn't like me and tried to make me feel bad about who I was. By
going through that, my son doesn't have to.
What
does your mother think about your music since you've wrote so many
songs about her, some of which are quite graphic about her experiences? Anything
I've ever put out about my Mom, I've always asked her permission first.
I let her here it first. I never released anything in public until she
was clean and got her life back on track. By the time you guys hear it,
it's like the 10th version, that I heavily wrote with her in mind. Her
attitude is like mine. We had to grow from these experiences and how
people can learn from our experiences. She's not ashamed of her past
and proud that she survived. She knows she's a role model for others
going through hardships. That doesn't mean that she bumps every song
about her. There's a song on "Stranger Than Fiction" that she can't get
through. As a parent, I understand better, thinking about my son, reflecting
on my mistakes. My mom is all about taking our experiences and turning
them into medicine for someone else. Some songs about her are for me
and working stuff out. Then other songs are about her experiences that
I know about, understanding her struggle. Of course she made certain
decisions that led to us living the life we did. She gets it. Some
stuff is just too personal and I always get her OK. I'm working with
her on her book. She's had an incredible life and people need to hear
those stories. When it's all said and done, what do you want to be your legacy? At
some level I know I've done my duty because I've been able to affect
people in a positive way. If I could be remembered for anything, it's
helping someone love themselves and their lives; helped changed
someone's mind; to contributing, even if just a little bit, to the
upliftment of people. A couple of years ago I did a show and their was
a kid in the front, grilling me the whole time. He was bobbing his head
and wouldn't take his eyes off of me.
He wasn't jumping around and yelling, but he was really into it.
Usually after a show I try to get out right away to chill and reflect
on what just happened. I'm not a big club person. On this night, this
kid tracked me down and stopped me. I was still trying to make my way
to the car and he was like 'no, you don't understand me. I have your first
album. I was 16 and I listened to it for a year straight. I listened to
what you said. I had times homies wanted to go out and do something and
I though about your songs and wouldn't go. They ended up getting
arrested. You helped shaped who I am." I hope that's the effect, but I
didn't' expect to see it. It's like being a teacher; you hope for
certain results, but you may never see them. You have to have faith
that your efforts aren't in vain.
For me, it's moments like
that when I feel like, "F platinum (selling million records)." I
wouldn't exchange that feeling for anything; knowing that you impacted
someone's life. I have a couple of stories like that. If I can keep
doing that, I can rest in peace. I'd love for that to be a tradition;
not just that "Rico was cool," but rather that my sons and daughters
keep doing it. Everything else is selfish; all the ideas and things I
want to do musically and creatively, that's just some other stuff. To
go and touch people like Bob Marley or a Stevie Wonder, in hip hop, we
haven't had that yet; to push humanity and the core of who we are. Hip
hop is ready for that, we're mature enough. I want to contribute to
that; to truth that transcends time and space
Yeah you read it right, the cats at Fresh World Promotions are throwing a party in celebration of World Africa Day this Friday. So that's interesting by itself, but the really interesting part is that it's taking place in Chongqing, China! There is a large African population in China, and Chongqing is one of the fastest growing cities in China. This should be a pretty good time, and check out the prices. Man I am living in the wrong country. Check it out and send us some pics!
Not surprisingly, Nigerian hip hop artists are having an easier time making money doing shows in Nigeria and other parts of Africa than they are in the US. It will be interesting to see immigration reform here in the US affects the local hip hop industry...if Africans are willing to sell out these shows, there clearly is value to the music, regardless of the locality. Our guess is that this is indicative of a much larger trend, not only in how artists make money, but also where that money is made...
Peep the video (we learned about this first through our Tweeples, Tunji) and tracks below...educate yourself and find some good music while you're at it!
(Note: This interview is brought to us by Domingo Yu, Domingoyu.com)
This past summer I spent a week as a guest of hip-hop artist Rico Pabon, a heavyweight in the Bay Area music scene, and his family in Puerto Rico, during which time I got to know him a little better as not just an MC, but a father, husband, and all around good guy. In full disclosure, I've known his wife Francis the past four years, but I had never actually sat down and had a full conversation with Rico until this trip. But through his work as the lead MC for groups O-Maya and Agua Libre, as well the co-owner of Sofrito, one of only a handful of Puerto Rican restaurants in the Bay, I was familiar with him outside of my friendship with his wife. I've been impressed with his body of work and one night we sat down and talked about life till the wee hours of the morning.
Rico went way beyond music, talking about overcoming numerous obstacles in his life, community empowerment, and what it means to be a father and husband. There's a lot here, but trust me, it's well worth the read!
OK, let's get some of the basics out of the way. I know your given name is Ray Pabon, so where'd the "Rico" come from?
In the first hip hop group I was in, Equal Justice, I started out as a dancer, but I started writing. I didn't come up with the name, the others in the group did. It was probably a play on Puerto Rican, since that's what I am. It was just a nickname that stuck.
This group was in Richmond (California). I moved out there when I was 14, during the second half of the 8th grade. Although I was born in Queens, I actually spent more time in California. The first move out to Cali was because my mother wanted to pursue a modeling career. She was a young mom. Sometimes I would go back to the East Coast for the summer, but most of my time was in California. I felt like we moved to California because my mom and stepdad were running from their problems and hiding from their families. My mother spent a lot of time trying to get clean. We moved back to New York when I was 10.
When I was 10 or 11 I ended up doing a lot of the work for my parents, who were managing apartments but due to their lives as heroine addicts that didn't go so well. To keep us from being evicted I'd turn on the boiler in the building during the cold months and do the cleaning around the apartments. I got the name "Lil' Man" because I would get up early and do that work, then go to school, while also taking care of my sister.
My parents later moved to Boston because they were on the run again. They pulled some big scam, hustling a bunch of people in New York. They rented out the same apartments to a bunch of people and collected their first and last months' rent. So it was like three apartments were rented out to 10 different people. Then basically the day before they were supposed to move in, we left with all their money. At first I didn't know what happened. We moved from the Bronx to the Roxbury area in Boston. They stayed and I moved back to Cali on my own. I was able to save up money and survive for a bit. I lived with my auntie for awhile but that didn't work out so I moved in with a friend. I made money by hustling.
I moved back to Cali to get away from them. Plus it was more laid back and slower. I hated New York, but that probably has more to do with the people I was around. Everyone was depressed. I had homies who had it worse than I did. I love it now, but I'm just visiting.
Considering some of the obstacles you've had to deal with, what made you decide to pursue something as unstable as music?
At the beginning it was more selfish because it made me feel better; it helped me work my stuff out. It was real personal to help me reflect. As years passed, I worked through it, and I became more politicized, I reflected even more. I got past myself and asked why so many of my friends were going through the same thing. I was curious about why so many people were in these bad situations. Drugs affected me so much because it was in my house with my parents being addicted. So much of what I wrote affected that.
As I began to heal and get past a lot of that pain, I could see I wasn't the only one going through this and asked why so many of us go through this. More recently, I've thought about how hip hop helped me in so many ways; keeping me out of trouble. It kept me thinking. I made better decisions and developed greater critical thinking skills without going to school. Writing did that.
It was like going down a hallway and seeing that there are so many doors to go through. I could've been a totally (messed) upped person and felt justified in that. Once I realized how powerful it was, my intention changed. I want it to be personal, but it's not for me anymore. It's for those kids who are depressed and want to take their own lives; like I did. I want them to know that they're not alone, things can get better, and that they do control their own destinies. My experiences weren't just in vain. I could document my experiences and people could hear about them and see that it'll be all right. It's like when I read books like Piri Thomas' Down these Mean Streets, I didn't feel so alone. It's like people can grow from this stuff and shine. Words and music can change how people's brains work and how they think. It's like one of God's tools. It's way deeper than just putting words together and telling some ghetto stories. I'm writing for people I've never met; it's for the kids who are going through what I went through, or what they're about to go through. Music really saved my life.
So how long have you been making music?
I was about 16 when I started writing. I'm 34 now. From the beginning I was pretty serious and knew it wasn't just a hobby. I think part of it was that it was just a healing thing. I had a lot of stuff going on in my life at that time. I had a lot of confusion and anger. Before that, I was dancing. That was my thing. But once I started writing, that was it. I should've kept doing both. I was a b-boy since forever.
Is anyone else in family into music?
My three uncles from my mother's side, who I grew up with. All three are salsa musicians and I grew up with Latin music. One of her sisters is an all-around musician and incredible vocalist. She plays all kinds of percussion. I hate to say it like this, but I don't know how else to say it; but she plays "like a man." What I mean is, we're not used to seeing women rip it like she does. One time I had a bunch of my guys over, including my teachers and she was there. She came out in her little bathrobe and totally ripped it. She turned me on to American music; Rick James and Tina Marie were her stuff.
My grandfather was also a musician, although not professional. Even my grandmother is a "freestyle fanatic." She'll write poems and start singing her own songs when she's inspired. It's a natural thing. All of my cousins play in a band or are singers. From a young age we're all taught how to keep time with a clave, then move on to congas. I can't think of one of my cousins who doesn't play something; usually percussion. No one inspired me to be a hip-hop artist, but my rhythmic style comes from playing the conga and Latin music. I've never taken music classes, but while most people write their rhymes listening to an instrumental or banging on a table, I wrote to congas. I don't know the musical terms, but my rhythm is a mambo rhythm, not the boom bap. That's more simple and basic. Our Latin rhythms are more complex. You have to figure out how to ride it. So yeah, percussion has an influence on my style. It's more circular.
I was in the South Bronx when "Criminal Minded" came out. Rakim was my stuff. That was the music of my youth. Yet Latin music was there too. Actually, I shouldn't say Latin because it's more African than anything. Music has been a blessing and a curse. We do it because we love it, but as a grown person trying to pay bills, it can be depressing when you're passionate about it and it makes you happy, but if you're not making money, it's sad. You have to make money. You can't think rationally and just put music on the side.
You can try to lie to yourself, but it doesnt' work like that; you're always looking to find outlets. I can't tell you how many times I've gotten up at 2 AM, knowing I had to be up at 5:30, but I don't want to shut that creative flow off. Music itself isn't the curse, it's the fact that we need to make so much money to survive in this society. When I ran the restaurant, it would've been easier if I could've turned that passion off. Life would've been easier. I was hungry to get back on the mic. It was hard watching people who had the time, blowing their chance and not having that passion.