The Makanga Report

Politricks, funk, brews & Samba Boys

2009-03-31T16:55:00.015-04:00

It's always unfortunate that people will resort to self destruction when they fail to gain attention by any other means. It is even sadder that when there are bigger troubles looming large, like the current drought and the dismal rain forecast for 2009 long rains, there is the Moi-era style of dabbling in student politics by the Kenyatta University administration, which certainly doesn't help keep things peaceful. But the destruction of KU, which is one of the more peaceful Nairobi pubilc higher education campuses is highly lamentable.

I had relatives who did battle in those early 90's Karl Marx era rampages as part of rowdy University of Nairobi students who have regaled me with great war stories, and some even recall that the mob at times even had a stategy of defending the hostels especially the womens' residences from the fury of of the regular and administration police and the GSU riot squads. Sadly, there are reports of rape by law enforcement elements and the bloodshed never ends well for some. Say a prayer dear friends.

Say a prayer for these too, perishing chasing a good thing in high seas with rickety vessels off the coast of Libya. 300 feared dead including children.

Google Maps Kenya is up and looking for your participation. Google Kenya is making good strides, ahead of the fibre-optic cables that will soon bring broadband to that part of the world.

Last year there was an interesting National Geographic piece about the existence of a dynasty of Black Pharoahs in Egypt circa 8th Century BC. Now, recent research uncovers a hidden face under the bust of Nefertiti. It always gets me how a lot of this priceless treasure is now in the hands of Westeners who won't hear nada about giving it back to it's rightful owners. How would they like it if Kenya, for example, owned a good portion of Rembrandts or Van Goghs? I won't even lie, this piece in The Daily Nation had me going for a little bit.

Africans doing it bigly: I just recently got hip to Norway based hip hop duo Madcon and their international hit single Beggin which was also incorporated into an Adidas tv ad thats been running stateside for many months now. They have a new album So Dark The Con Of Man hitting all shores in 2009. I don't know their heritage, but at one of them has an Ethiopian sounding name (Tshawe Baqwa and Yosef Wolde-Mariam), but I might be mistaken. They've been around since 1992 but Beggin is definitely the first I heard of them. It's a nice funky track. And the raps are reminiscent of a Black Thought.

Also worth checking out is Sierra Leone-born and New York based Chosan. He's currently promoting his debut collection The Beautiful Side Of Misery Vol. 1. It's hard to hate on his showmaship especially with the laytees fron-an-cenna as exposed below.

MsaniiXL's most recent podcast is definitely bumpin' and ready for your listening pleasure. Also in the vein of Afrocentric hiphop podcasts, check out Hiphocalypse's latest compilation featuring a slice from sincerely yours.

I was snooping around on the KBW aggregator and ran into this foodie's review of a microbrewery and lounge in Nairobi. The weather just broke where I'm at, and I can't look at the suddenly bearable, sunny outdoors without thinking about irrigating throats, a la the late great Whispers, and then I stumble on Nairobi microbrews in the german tradition. They might as well be the Holy Grail to me right now.

The recurring nightmare for Kenyan football in it's quest to qualify for any international tournament seems to be that the draw always puts a good North African team or West African team in our path. It is especially harrowing this go-around with Tunisia and Nigeria in Kenya's qualifying group. Mozambique aren't pushovers neither. At the end of the day, we don't invest in the game what these nations put in, so it eventually shows up on the score line. However it goes down in June 3rd when Nigeria comes a-calling (by which I mean them KE boys better win), the visit by Brazil's national team in July is sure to be a bigger sensation, and yet another personal Holy Grail, which I will only be able to savor in my imaginations and through the vicariousness of you lucky bastards that get to breathe the same air as the Samba Boys.

Three words: You are hated.

This better not be some more April foolery. I'm already emotionally invested.

===========================================================

54 Kingdoms, Blu & Kiss

2009-02-20T14:13:00.005-05:00

Already up online but coming soon to brick-and-motar stores across the US this summer is a brand new afrocentric line, 54 Kingdoms. Not necessarily just a collection involving t-shirts and denim apparel, and the prints are defintely muthaland repping. Check out a recent write up on a pretty tight afro-centric portal Jamati Online. I know the economy got most of us hemmed, but you can definitely cop off their current teaser selection.

Check out the new project by fast rising West Coast wonderkid, Blu called Her Favorite Colo(u)r available here. Initial reviews are saying he sounds a little bit jaded a la Kanye West after coming correct for a good stretch. I haven't listened to it but you can't go bad with a Blu joint even as weepy as this joint is supposed to be.

You also can't go wrong with a little street heat from Jadakiss whose long awaited collaboration with DJ Green Lantern Kiss My Ass is available now as a hard hitting appetizer for the soon coming Def Jam album.

Even with new trillion dollar government spending and mortgage salvage plans, the stock market continues to slide. No one is really saying how badly the big US Banks doing and I can't help but feeling a little Republican. Some of them are so badly leveraged, they are going to die a horrible death or will cost the US Government heavy cake. Meanwhile as it is Oscar Awards season, best actor accolades should go to Bernard Madoff. He never bought a security in the last 10 years as he ran an investment enterprise. Bravo!

==================================================================

It's so hard to say Goodbye...

2009-01-24T00:19:00.009-05:00

....Way easier and more sumptuous to say hello.

Hello.

It's been an extended minute. I mean, the last entry had Frank Lucas in it, written from deep in the G.W. Bush Dark Days. I hope the intervening period was blessed.

It wasn't without a grandiose ruckus that I walked away from these climes. Belee dat. Kicking and screaming, slugging and slapping. In the end, they say sometimes Life gives you lemons, and therefore, lemonade is on tap. In my goblet however, was a nice piece of hot vinegar. But if it won't kill, it will build. Praise Due to Him for Graces, Mercies and Learning both collasal and minute.

But I wasn't going to come around without a gift.

Available for download now, a brand new mixtape from Massachusetts-based, Kumasi, Ghana Godchild and a long time collaborator Smalls.

A.D.D. Afrikan. Dun. Did-It.
https://rcpt.yousendit.com/..643885208/..93ce8412cfc469d8f8e361128f51b1..70

The concept was a long time in the making but with the recent ascension of the Son of Kogelo it might seem extremely timely or extremely opportunistic. Commemorative plate anyone?

That whole Inaguration souvenir cottage industry must be crying now that the historic hoopla is done with. Personally, I'd love to see it go on. Say, for example, he gets the $0.8 trillion fix-me-up through the House intact, these guys should make commemorative knife. Free healthcare, a bowl. Lobby reform, a spoon. Iraq withdrawal, champagne flutes. And then bring it all together with dinner napkins emblazoned with G.W. boarding that Marine helicopter to oblivion. In this manner, in 4 years they could have a commemorative dinner set and, then they would really cake it if he scores a do-over in 2012.

Minus my 7% consulting fee, of course.

Hopefully there's something for you on A.D.D. It feels good to break the drought.

Bon apetit.

=========================================================

Dube, Lucas, Fire, Water & Records

2007-10-27T12:52:00.001-04:00

They're weeping in Azania, We weep along with them.

Before the nation went rock, before the Sync Sound Revolution, before we took on the raging Bull of Life by the uncanny horns, fed on VoK drivel, as we ducked Saba Saba missiles and choked on Kamkunji gas, we heard visions in riddim.

Prisoner (1989)
Captured Live (1990)
House of Exile (1991)
Victims (1993)
Trinity (1995)

Without any irreverence to the other diadems in the 22 album Soundtrack to Love and Freedom, these I mention for I can testify with sincerity for them as being masterful expressions for a generation. We thank you.

Philip Lucky Dube. 1964-2007.

=============

It had to happen. The Roc Boys have it on repeat in the studio, there've been pre-screenings for a good while now everywhere...the hood had to get it. Good quality too.

Initial response: Denzel and Russell do not disappoint. They did good to keep most aspects of the amazing Frank Lucas story in the film without slowing it down. How they connected Russell's character into the story was nicely done. Watched it twice in a row, had to trash a night recording session earlier in the week. The fam was bugging in the lab, we couldn't work after. This is definitely going to be the Black Gangster Flick that crosses over. Take somebody nice to see it.

First World Disaster Shelter style: the recent billion dollar Cali wildfires had started to create a Katrina type situation at Qualcomm stadium, but CNN reported acupuncture, yoga and child art modules at the shelters. From the frying pan into a prone position huh. While air quality is an issue, the scheduled NFL game at Qual is still on. Scuba gear on the Running Back?

30,000 strong at those recent Celtel Gospel events. Let them bang. Another weekend event is coming up in early November featuring Byron Cage, Trin-i-tee 5:7, Chevelle Franklin, Donald Lawrence, J Xavier, Junior Tucker, Dunamis among others. Interesting to see Reggae performers like Franklin and Tucker included. It's all very timely. This December we definitely need some Godly Shine through the polls.

Jigga's album's leaking in fits and sounding very promising. Let that b*tch breathe ! Freeway and Beans round out the Roc Assault and Memph is also doing the rounds again. Beyond Reasonable Doubt, the scrapped tribute album is circulating.

Playaz Circle, DTPs latest vehicle of longtime DTPers Tity Boy and Dolla boy are also dumping. Luda, Rick Ross and Bub B air out a Clinton Sparks bouncy. Ransom and Buddens are switching heated bars. I loved the A-team. Nas has once again created buzz around his new album with some well placed controversy. Don't forget Facemob on the loaded December 4th and Weezy twice: in December and early 2008.

Some recent US Record sales if you care.

Stakes is high? Check how much water is in your glass.

Morale.

Oh, to my man Kallous, Gun 'em Up.

===================================

Ja & Opium, The-Dream & Magazines

2007-10-05T22:50:00.000-04:00

Aah, still balmy in the East. But the sun isn't the full story.

New albums are expected from Jay-Z, Styles P, Sheek Louch, Wu-Tang and Nas. In the first quarter of 08, anticipate new offerings from Pete Rock and Stack Bundles. They all have new music on the loose.

It's still bubbling here Up Top, Durty Souf Takeover and all. They gave Big Daddy Kane a Crying Ovation in Philadelphia recently. New Sony signee Jim Jones will be in town Sato.

Some lanes are getting official. Opium has a situation cooking.

And other lanes come back to haunt you.

Okay, so I've stated before that Ja Rule was washed up, but he's trying to gather some momentum especially in the wake of 50's (still not Platinum) recent non-stratospheric outing (For the record I was feeling Ja back in the Cash Money Clique era; It's the sing-along, new millenium dumbed down Ja that messed it up for me).

If "Body" is anything to go by, he's not shying away from what made him really popular at the beginning of this decade, the same style his nemesis took to the bank. He will be performing alongside Opium Black next weekend (I couldn't find Ja's side of the flyer, with apologies). Ja's been building his buzz since last April, and the scene is warming up to him way much better this time around.

This month's Vibe Magazine has a write up on new Def Jam artist, songwriter, producer and R&B pop tart Nivea's hubby The-Dream, who has easily done most of the heavy lifting in Urban Pop music this year with three catchy records: Rihanna's "Umbrella," J-Holiday's "Bed," and his own "Shawty Is a Ten." His album is expected in stores soon.

Online, Vibe chops it up with in vogue beatman DJ Toomp, while XXL is staying on top of Jigga's American Gangster gestation, just like they did with last year's Kingdom Come, with tantalizing peeks from the lab.

Morale.

====================================

Bye Ciks, Radio & Records

2007-09-10T18:10:00.000-04:00

Some sensations are best left unlearned, but you know the feeling. The one where the day starts off drab enough but as it wears on you quietly feel this looming dread, like something's off with the world. Without any explanation, you feel as if your emotions should be different from what they currently are. But it's impossible to put a finger on why. But you can't really dwell on the unknown so you try to play things cool and try to get your mind on another track...

The 27th of August was like that for me. My daily compadres could even sniff it off me or it was painted in my posture. I knew the feeling...something wild was up. Eventually early in September I got word that another magnificent person had dipped out of this existence.

Ciks, warm, loving, adventuresome, face like cool water in a Sahara noon. Wish I could've known you better. To Sweet and Crew, my sincere sympathies. We shall look out for The Gift.

**********

It's been kitambos since I dipped through. Don't kill me I've started writing this particular entry so many times in the past few weeks, but keep getting pulled away. It's still hot outside. The grind continues. There's been some bossy things going on. We put together a brand for our region to make it distinct from anything else in the world. CTGC is the name of the movement at the forefront of a new eastern assault. It's basically a way to bring all the top talent out here to the masses. Initial buzz has been good, radio has embraced us and a small tour is in the works.

Speaking of radio, Friday Sept 14th at 10:41 pm things finally came full circle. For the first time ever I heard a song that I produced, recorded and mixed get spun on radio. It's a little reggae thing we did late in the summer. Special shout out to DJ Wrexx and DJ Phenom. Y'all go in!

While everyone has been excited about the return of the Greatest Waste of Sunday ever created, sorry, I mean the NFL, I've been more keen on the Rugby World Cup. Although I've only really watched a handful of games, it's a needed restoration of my sanity.

Caught 50 Cent at an impromptu performance the day before his album dropped. Onstage he's tight and very polished. Although the venue wasn't packed to the rafters, the crowd was jumping for the duration of the 90 minute set. A lot of people are making a fuss about the first week album sales but the more telling statistic: the second week numbers that fell by at least 75% for both Kanye and Fif. Who knew Talib Kweli (68k) would debut on top of Swizz Beatz, (28k) who seemed to have all the major media outlets on smash. The biggest loser though must be T.I. who has to deal with seeing former long time collaborator DJ Toomp throw his synth game with beautiful effect all over Kanye's album.

In the meantime you can all lament the burial of music videos as a mainstream tv format in the US. Viacom's BET, the last network standing as far as playing videos instead of alternative non music related programming, has ditched all pretentions of playing videos even for 3 hours a day. The once hallowed Rap City is now a late night afterthought.

Pray for the babies, and Free Jena 6!

==========================

Pieces of August

2007-08-09T20:59:00.000-04:00

Three Mondays ago, the good folks at rapmullet.com finally caught up with Opium's early spring mixtape for one of their never-ending mixtape reviews. An early Monday blessing for me, with the honorable mention. I was able to sneak 5 beats this go-around and at least one stuck on the reviewer. Good fuel for the grind. New Opium music arrives in a few weeks.

August has bottomed out weatherwise. It's usually unbearably balmy for some, but not for me. So seeing the hoodies and longsleeved outerwear come out this early is not cool. Maybe it's fitting. I'm still black inside after I lost someone I loved to cancer earlier this year. Plus it isn't always glory in the summer: two block wheelies on the Hayabusas, mamis in impossible shorts, performances, cookouts and slow sliding down streets blasting Gyptian in the city. Stand up people get sent up no bail, ones who don't know how to man up suffer man-downs and the determined will forcibly yank your cake.Then again, there're moments when you see up-and-up situations and through the grind and the pitfalls you still feel the blessings.

Common debuted on top with 155K. A good number in these shrunk market days. Talib Kweli, who's enjoying a good look with his album, is feeding the streets along with Clinton Sparks. Check out the brand new mixtape.

I don't know about your hood, but around here Max B is riding that Dipset crest well. His second show in as many weeks at the same venue goes down this weekend. It's a spectacle how these more hardcore street-oriented rappers get celebrity status in these grimy northeastern cities with or without an album. Mobb Deep, D-Block, Red Cafe, Cassidy and others receive a lot of adulation. Being in a position to be behind the scenes and seeing the digi-cam flashbulbs going off at paparazzi rates when Max B pulled up to the venue by a mob of mostly women caught me off guard. And some of these ladies can be of an exquisite rare breed... can quote Styles P better than me!

Speaking of behind the scenes, reggae's premier recording band Morgan Heritage were in town recently, which is sort of a homecoming for them, and I got the opportunity to kick with them on the tour bus as well as take in an hour-long set from an offstage vantage point. World class professionals, easy going, deeply Rasta and the cali bud smouldering in the back of the bus was making the window panes gooey. And their music: it really does sound much better than the record. Outstanding musicianship.

Morale.

==============================================

Do You Know What Today Is......

2007-08-03T20:09:00.007-04:00

If Klara didn't blurt, I would have forgotten that my first year anniversary recently came and went.

Hold on while I find that Tony Toni Tone cut....

It's been a year y'all, although the latter part of it has been largely silent (Coming soon: Top 10 Reasons I Dissed The Blog this Summer). But for utilizing your eyeballs on this space, you, whoever you may be, whatever flavor of ice cream you like, no matter who you have gagged and tied up back at home, I feel enormous gratitude.

It's the Bombay talking...
next up: Tanq

======

I'm really tired of the Michael Vick backlash, all these folks who give dogs kisses and hugs, let them ride passenger in their cars, and buy them birthday cakes, crying about dog fighting. While Dick Cheney couldn't even get a Police Report done when he mistook a hunting partner for a bird. If recreational hunting and fishing are okay, as in hunting or fishing for which the primary goal isn't to provide sustenance, then dog fighting should be palatable too.

======

I didn't believe it when I heard Ginuwine on the Walt Baby Love R&B countdown in 1998 talking about how he was unable to keep up with what music was on the radio or out on the market while he worked with Timbaland on 100% Ginuwine. This summer has been a revalation in that lesson, especially since I really haven't been doing the clubs or mixtapes, and hence without reason to keep up, while I stay in the lab cooking.

But I couldn't stay away for good. Chrisete Michele's Def Jam album I Am is a wonderful excursion in Jazz tinged soul with some hiphop thrown in to keep the likes of me stuck. Pharaohe Monch did pretty good with his album after a 8 year break, but SRC don't understand the kind of gem he brought to them. "When the Gun Draws" needs a video badly. Talib Kweli's new joint Ear Drum knocks. He gave Pete Rock a good look with all them beats. There is definitely some beautiful work in there as he expands and becomes more worldly, I dare say? T.I.'s joint was little worn for me. Nothing extraordinary.

Also trying to get with:

Mavado - enough already with that gangsta chant, riddim after riddim and no album. Finally!

Common - The hood talks, and he was recently around on tour with Lupe and Kanye. Word is he stole that show. I last saw him doing duty with his band Black Girl Named Becky a few years back and he was righteous. Definitely worth the effort to check him out, as should banging the new LP, Finding Forever.

Keith Murray - Def Squad cool. Worth the price of the Sermon beats alone.

Elephant Man - Five O is sickly to me.

Munga Honarable - a reggae revalation from Capleton's camp

Ransom - Best In The City Part 2. New Jersey dude is hardbody.

Somebody might pepeta me after this.
Opium Black - Black Plague. The mixtape. Take it.

A goodly weekend to you.

===================================================

Top Eight @ 8

2007-08-02T15:21:00.000-04:00

1)WE HAVE TO POST THESE RULES BEFORE WE GIVE YOU THE FACTS.
2)PLAYERS START WITH 8 RANDOM FACTS/HABITS ABOUT THEMSELVES.
3)PEOPLE WHO ARE TAGGED NEED TO WRITE THEIR OWN BLOG AND THEIR 8 THINGS AND POST THESE.
4) AT THE END OF YOUR BLOG POST, YOU NEED TO CHOOSE 8 PEOPLE TO GET TAGGED AND LIST THEIR NAMES (Scared yet…..you better be!)
5)DON’T FORGET TO LEAVE THEM A COMMENT TELLING THEM THEY ARE TAGGED, AND TO READ YOUR BLOG

Waay past Fashionably late, more like tragically.

Imwi,
Short is sweet. Eloquence in the minimum is one of my current muses.

Deuce
Smoky voiced chicks have a headstart with me.

Trez
Eternally I shall fiend for raw funk.

Arba
In my musical dabbling I haven't been really starstruck by anyone, but I was deeply humbled when I met reggae impresario Calvin "Cocoa Tea" George Scott.
Sultan,
it's majorly owed.

Cinq
I love horror flicks, macab in becoup, but I shouldn't say that. It's been a black summer.

Sita
I can't gain a damn kilo. Ever since young boy high school rudgescapades, it's been mbweha season without a muscle to show for it.

Lucky
To Bang out Tunes. Wished on being a fly on the wall, now maybe I can chisel the walls in. I'm Grateful for that shot.

Four plus four
I believe in guardian angels. Listen.

Now all that other mess about Picking 'Em and Bait. Bilaz. You Lost.

==============================================

The Elastoplast Cup

2007-07-08T20:05:00.000-04:00

The names have been changed to avoid fingers being pointed directly at me.

Her eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. Mugo was quickly enraptured by the white clarity in which her dark irises floated on and almost forgot to hear what she said next.

"It's you!" she hissed, instinctively backing away from him.

From a far away place, Mugo heard a gaggle of laughter from his boys and his mind zoomed off in fantastic rewind.

*****

The Std 1 class of Mrs Phylis Ogot was his first exposure. The first few weeks of school had been fun, even more so because Mrs Ogot didn't know just how many other kids Mugo was already friendly with. Every other day he was reassigned a desk mate, and almost each combination of boys he was paired to sit with had brought on another installment of in-class bedlam. While Mugo was smart enough to pay attention and buckle down when necessary, his comrades were more blatant in their disregard for Mrs Ogot in class, a transgression for which Mugo would pay for as lead instigator.

"Duncan was not like this before he was sitting with you Mugo. He hasn't done his English exercises today and yet he was doing them last week. What are you telling him?" The harangue would always come before a six stroke whipping with a three foot piece of garden hose across the back of his legs. It wasn't his fault that Duncan didn't want to finish his work before they embarked on the more interesting rubber band wars. And Duncan only got four canes and a warning, while Mugo was stuck with six delicious ones and a threat to get Mummy and Daddy involved. The previous week with Philip and the week before that with William it was the same thing. Mugo would find himself walking back to his seat, back bowed, rubbing the welts on the back of his legs, hot tears lingering in his eyes on the edge of a shameful dispatch down his face.

Mrs Ogot was keen to tame Mugo's hyperactivity and to also channel his seemingly effortless ease at school work. There was a girl in the class, shy almost to a fault, who didn't seem to have grasped the alphabet fully, let alone write her name on top of an exercise book. She would prove to be the interactive brick wall that Mugo would not be able to get into mischief with. For now. Then when the turf got more familiar, Mugo's brilliance would rub off on her. Mrs Ogot smiled her knowing smile. She should've thought of that weeks ago.

"Catherine, I want to grab your bag and go and sit with Duncan. Mugo, I want you to go sit at Catherine's place next to Florence." Catherine rose gleefully as if she had been ordered to the playground forever, while Mugo tried hard to keep a straight face as he slowly shuffled away from his back-of-the-class suite with Duncan over to the desk that was linked to Florence's. Florence was oblivious to all this, her face stuck to the desk, fast asleep. She came to with a start as Mrs Ogot bellowed her name with one side of her face sweaty. The class chuckled.

Mugo got his first good look at Florence. If all the stories were true he was going to hate her. Catherine had been going on and on during breaks about how Florence smelled like urine and how she like to play with her spit, using it to draw on her arm and her desk, to the general disgust of her audience. Then when it became apparent that Florence didn't know her numbers or her letters, it got even funnier. Some speculated she was mad. It didn't help that she talked to herself but rarely spoke in class, was caught napping all the time and wrote in her book backwards like an Arabian. Mugo regarded her as he approached his front-of-the -class confinement cell: bony thin; disheveled hair with knots; the blouse, sweater and skirt combination that were twice her size; the sweater was already frayed at the cuffs; her upper teeth that peeped slightly from underneath a struggling upper lip and those big bulbous eyes, red at the corners, that seemed designed to fit a face on a totally different strain of humanoid.

There and then Mugo decided not to like the girl at all.

Three days later and Mugo still couldn't believe he was still sitting in front of the class with Florence. It never seemed to stop. Daily she would show up giving off a whiff of stale pee, hair still raggedy. All her books were dog eared and she like to deface the pictures in them with her pencil while she whispered to herself. When it came to schoolwork Mugo was not appreciating how she always seemed to get off the hook with Mrs Ogot. While apparently he couldn't draw a good enough car during art class, she drew a cat, and got the teachers approval. Cats were the only thing she knew how to drew, and stick figure men. Lots of cats, lots of stick figure men, all the time. Even when the teacher commissioned pieces depicting a Safari Rally Car. And whenever Mrs. Ogot wasn't looking, the fun happened without Mugo. He would watch with a rock stuck down his throat as Duncan and cohorts flipped through a new Jocks and Georgies comic book or launched paper jets out of the window. Events for which up to recently he had been the main steward.

Then one afternoon not too long after, while conducting a mathematics session in the class, Mrs Ogot wrote up some sums in the chalkboard, and then went around the class supervising and giving one-on-one instructions. Mugo wrapped his sums up and turned away from Florence as he usually did and quietly watched Anthony's work progress. Anthony sat directly behind Mugo and they had become quite friendly. Soon Anthony was done and both he and Mugo started whispering to each other. Suddenly the quiet murmur in the class was cracked by a shrill proclamation.

"Teacher! Teacher! Mugo and Anthony are talking!"

Even Mrs Ogot was amazed at Florence's unsolicited outburst. She dropped her other pupils and approached frowning, another caning looming for Mugo. But Florence's speaking up for the first time was probably the only reason why Mugo and Anthony escaped, or maybe also for the fact that Florence had also inexplicably done all her math sums, and they were all correct. Just like Mugo's. Mugo knew better, the wily wench had copied his work. When Mrs Ogot turned away she pulled out her tongue at Mugo and glared at him with her outlandish orbs. Mugo was amazed at this sudden escalation in hostilities. While before, he tried to totally ignore her and deal with Anthony and his more becoming desk mate, Janet, waging a silent war of ignoring Florence to the maximum, this was brand new territory that Mugo had not seen coming.

It got worse the following day, she copied his English exercises in the morning and started pinching Mugo on his thighs, where his lower limbs showed from underneath his shorts. Mugo, trying not to call anymore attention on himself, refused to let himself alert Mrs Ogot. Florence got braver that afternoon, pointing a thin finger at him and letting a warm flap of spit land spectacularly in his eye. Before Mugo could react, she spoke out again.

"Teacher, teacher, Mugo is pinching me!"

Mugo was flabbergasted, not knowing how he ended up on the wrong end of a set-up. Once again he found himself shuffling back to his seat, the back of his legs burning and Florence showing her version of a cheeky smile. Cold rage sat with him as he rubbed his legs, one word burning in his head: WANTED!

WANTED, that Nairobi school version of the Mafioso's Black Hand. If someone placed a wanted on you it meant that that person had a score to settle and it usually meant fisticuffs of some kind outside of any adult jurisdiction. It could be through a gentleman's pact with a date and time for the fight penciled in, or it could be an unannounced guerrilla attack by one or many on the victim. Florence had just earned herself one.

The execution of the Wanted came easily for Mugo. He briefed Duncan as soon as the bell rang for the end of school that day. They both knew Florence waited for her father to come pick her up in a small fiat. She would be sitting alone by the parking lot in the shaded bay or in the sun scrawling some type of hex or hieroglyphics in the dirt. All Duncan had to do was divert Mugo's cousin who always came to pick him up from school with a story that Mugo had already left. While the cousin was distracted, Mugo would nail Florence.

Mugo's cousin, Rose got worried as soon as Duncan planted the lie and quickly began retracing her steps to see if she had missed Mugo down the street somewhere. Meanwhile, Mugo who had been watching for that exit, raced to execute. He had his sweater wrapped around his head in his best effort to imitate a ninja mask. Florence sat facing towards the parking lot her eyes directly in the path of the lowering sun, like she enjoyed staring into it. Mugo wondered about that odd behavior as he turned the corner and came up on Florence from behind, grabbing her by the shoulder and turning her so her face ran into the open palm that came down towards it with a resounding slap.

Mugo didn't even stop to admire his work, but he definitely heard her thin voice grow into a loud wail. He scooted off racing towards the school gate, mingling with the crowd of exiting children, grabbing his backpack from a patient Duncan who was waiting right outside his gate and they ran off to meet Mugo's cousin down the street.

Florence never returned to school the next day, or ever again.

******

The Kenya National Music Festivals for schools have always been a prime angling spot for high-school students to meet and mingle, under the guise of performance arts, to make some interesting connections that could be cashed in during the school holidays. Mugo was there with his three buddies and in the essence of keeping things interesting they had come up with a challenge. Each would have to approach a strange female that the other ones picked and try to make friends or make connection. Already one of them, Edwin, had made a pretty good case for himself, snatching up a part-tanzanian beauty's charms.

Mugo's turn. They picked out a slim but curvy concoction in a light blue blouse and navy blue skirt with hair that came down to her shoudlers. Mugo clapped in excitement, "Thank you so much. I know we can't tell what she looks like from here but I can tell you that she is flyer than Tabitha, Edwin." And he left his crew crowing happily at the expense of Edwin's portly girlfriend.

Mugo marched off, shoulders square. His target was ambling slowly with another accomplice on their way back to the plenary hall, to watch a performance perhaps. He was catching up to them speedily. They stopped as they ran into a group of boys in a maroon uniform and Mugo watched the engagement from a short distance. His target was indeed really pretty. Her smile flashed brightly, the pearls in her mouth brilliant in the sun. He waited to see if his quarry was lost to the boys in maroon. The ladies split from the guys and kept walking. Mugo saw his chance to swoop. He quickened his step and was on them almost immediately.

"Excuse me," he said in the deepest baritone his 16 year old voice could attain. The ladies turned around. "I was wondering whether you ladies are from my cousin's school," a cheap lie that had worked the day before on pretty much every girl Mugo spit that opener to. Mugo was solely tuned in to his attractive mark, whose smile faded and immediately looked at him inquisitively. Mugo felt a little hot at the collar in the four-fifty -something Nairobi heat, his mind trying to figure out why her face looked familiar. She needed to unleash that smile again, it was intoxicating to Mugo. An uneasy silence grew as Mugo racked his brains.

Her eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. Mugo was quickly enraptured by the white clarity in which her dark irises floated on and almost forgot to hear what she said next.

"It's you!" she hissed, instinctively backing away from him.

From a far away place, Mugo heard a gaggle of laughter from his boys and his mind zoomed off in fantastic rewind.

He immediately remembered Duncan, Mrs Ogot, badly drawn cats and stick figure men, a whiff of stale urine and a wail that started low and built in cresendo and sad emotion. Mugo swiftly kicked back to reality with the cries echoing in his mind. In place of the the long lost euphoria of a Wanted executed perfectly was shame, at a Wanted executed perfectly.

"That was a long time ago Florence, we were only in class one."

He was talking to the wind. She had turned around with her accomplice and melted into the crowd, leaving Mugo watching aghast. His rowdy crew finally caught up with him, one of them in near tears. They had found their champion.

Mugo had to wear the Elastoplast Band somewhere prominent, like on the face or neck for the next three days.

=======================================

Hot outside, ebooks, 10,000 Watts & Drumming

2007-06-23T21:53:00.000-04:00

A goody goody salute to you.

When it gets hot outside, it really gets hot outside. The young boys here go berserk with the deading. But there's nothing like a little perspective for that ass. Recent Mungiki vs. Police killings make Northeast Gutter City pop-off Shenanigans seem like an episode of Fraggle Rock. Who was down with Fraggle Rock? Yeah you know me! Leo Faya had a Buru Reminisce Piece that you may want to feel out. I might just be down for a back-in-the-day version of my own, like Faya said, before the dementia sets in. Some people never need worry.

Speaking of which, American Football has a case to answer as far as depression, dementia and general brain damage is concerned. I always knew there was trouble with those blunt hits.

Big up to my brother Sultan on the alert. The EA Standard had a piece this weekend about the cut-throat turf wars on the K.E. entertainment scene. On all levels, from Event Hosts to Bouncers. Pretty soon, even the bartenders are going to get in on it. The very interesting thing to me is that D.S. Njoroge is the go-to guy for all the big international shows, which I suspect is because of his well known 10,000 watt sound system. (I'm ashamed he ok'd Ja Rule... Richie Spice....more like it. Most definitely worth it to see that Dread live at least once in your life). Still, no new pretenders in the Biggest Sound in K.E. race?

It's a beautiful thing...when Namibia comes to Nairobi and falls. Now, they can nail up a new scalp at the RFUEA grounds with Morocco doing that now-dead Motorbike dance move formerly dearly beloved by my bredren Msanii....Going Dooowwn.

With ODM not finding a suitable Flag Bearer at this point in the game is telling. Raila is already looking to 2012! But that doesn't mean ODM is done with. Peep Alexcia's reasons. All the same, a stalemate now only means someone will end up being frustrated late in the game, and not entirely willing to yum up on the humble pie, and bail.

Nuff Respect to Akiey, who is grinding heavy in the Midwest, currently pitching a Barack Obama ebook, Best Speeches of Barack Obama, available for free download for a limited time. With New York City Mayor and I-don't-need-your-guap-rich billionaire Michael Bloomberg almost throwing his hat in the ring, the leading candidates on the both the Democrat and Republican sides must make their cases known before this turns into another year 2000 type fiasco, where the Dems were left baying for spoiler Ralph Nader's blood, as Ross Perot is back in a flashy NYC format.

Who didn't see this coming: he's portrayed God already, so what's a little Nelson Mandela going to do for him? Morgan Freeman is Nelson Mandela in a recollection of SA's 1995 Rugby World Cup triumph. Coming soon, White and Blacks united under one banner... White America will shed a tear. Wait...wasn't there only one black player on the 1995 Springboks? Chester Williams, I believe? Jonah Lomu. What a beast he was in that tournament. The memorable mismatch I recall was the one with those tiny Japanese team peeps trying to hold on to their dignity as Lomu trod them underfoot.

So what do I does on a fly Sato night like this one? The truth, I'm heavy in the lab, cooking up some new heat. No bashdowns tonight. The time hasn't arrived for me to speak on what's on the horizon. Still, the dirty work must get done, Monday to Sunday. Break time is over. Must go find my 808 kit and get busy. Thankfully the team is present and it's riot in here. I wouldn't prefer it otherwise.

Morale.

=========================================

Money, Gaza & Death.

2007-06-15T04:10:00.000-04:00

Oh yeah that Time has come again....

The Time when I look at my tv and wonder what is going to happen to it now that the NBA is over....No more basketball on tv till it's cold again......

San Antonio are the testament to the Tortoise Way to Run Things. Phoenix and Dallas, the high flying (aka sunguch) teams in the West ran out of steam before the post season, while the Spurs had been easily choo-chooing at a steady clip only seeming to up the ante in the playoffs. The scary thing? The Big Three (Duncan, Ginobili and brand new Finals MVP, Parker) remain unchanged in the line-up until 2011. I wish that was exciting news. By the way, who's keeping count of how many rings Robert Horry has amassed? Look for trades to happen quickly in Cleveland.

=============

On Madaraka Dizzay, Tony Thompson passed. Not to be confused with the late drummer from funk outfit Chic, this Thompson was the lead vocalist in the young boy group Hi Five.

The Gems: 1990, I Like the Way (Kissing Game) had smooch rookies in boarding school seeking out cute, willing guinea pigs for lip lock behind the girls bathroom at supper time on Sundays, while the rest of us hungry bastards were trying to miraculously acquire an extra piece of meat (incidentally, the resulting blackmail would guarantee some of us extra nyaks for weeks). FFWD>> 1992 She's Playing Hard To Get and Quality Time, the former being a quality New Jack Swing effort that lit up many a venue with masses united in the execution of the that dance they called the Pyrate, while I assume the lyrics from Quality Time found perfect use on a high school love letter or two. Or for simply yumming up the baby making....

Then came Sexsational, the solo LP in 1995 with a first single I Wanna Love Like That that stayed booming in matts for months, as well as in Bubbles and Visions; John Karani and crew hyped it up on the English Service drive time show (before the wide wonderful world of FM babies), and it definitely had my vote for one of the better R&B jams of that year, as if we were starving for good crack then.

Tony Thompson, dead at 31. Initial reports speculate it may have been a drug related death but the official word hasn't been released yet. In any case, for all the good flavas, my simple tribute. R.I.P. Thanks for the tunes and memories.

=====

This is also blowing under the radar, but the East Cost Rap Fraternity is mourning Monday's shooting death of Stack Bundles. Most recently affiliated with Dipset's Byrd Gang Crew, he initially stormed on the scene with other Desert Storm alums Joe Budden and Ransom under that banner. Bundles had a unique slick, thugged out oh-so-New York flow. Gutter and outspoken, his fodder was the streets and all the non-fluffy things in them unless, of course, it was a spanking new Lexus LS 460h or similar artifacts of couture and grace. His immersion into Dipset along with Jim Jones brethren Max B is directly related to Jim Jones stylistic upgrade, which led to Jones making some mainstream noise in 2006. Bundles' debut Dipset mixtape appearance was in 2006, on the same mixtape Jones' banger We Fly High debuted on. Outside of Dipset, he was involved with his own crew Riot Squad (Bynoe, thanks for everything, we're with y'all). Stack Bundles has been a mixtape favorite since 2004, it's a suprise Papoose, Saigon, Joell Ortiz, Tru Life, Maino, Uncle Murder and Red Cafe were all toting major label deals before him.

Never heard spitting some sappy mess for the ladies, always spitting crack tales, gunfights or styling on them retardedly, this is definitely one rapper I was checking for in NY...he never took a day off in his rhymes. He will be missed. No street mixtape of mine was complete without a Stack Bundles contribution. Definitely, his passing is an alert for all rappers with one foot in the game, other foot in the streets.

Rayquon Elliott, dead at 24. Before his time in the sun.

=====

It's not a movie, not 28 Days or Weeks Later. 5 Days later, Gaza Strip is owned by Hamas. In the same week, an anti Syrian Lebanese MP is assassinated and a suspected terrorist bomb goes off in the Green City in the Sun. A freaking cowinkidink?

=====

The US Immigration Bill dead and buried? Coming soon....The Remix...like next week soon.

=====

Holla at Half n Half. Good thing you kicked them cigarette thangs to the curb, as the Jamhuri Budget attacks smokes and beer for the umpteenth time (Brand new entry at number 3... Free High School!!). Better roads, more teachers and coffee farmers get debt relief.

=====

Morale.

========================================

Tuesday at the Training Camp

2007-06-14T23:04:00.000-04:00

Mid-afternoon, early May 2007. Walking up Avenue A on a leafy sun-blessed Gotham afternoon. Tis a wonderful thing that it warmed early this year, as these NYU co-eds are keeping your boys open. With a more reticent and dignified appeal, this part of Manhattan is one I could get used to. Maybe I'm in the South Bronx and Brooklyn too much, I need to style up. But far from a lolly gag episode of fun possibilities (a shame, because dark haired queen posted up on the corner looks like the one for me. Me and her hand in hand through the park, what!), we head a block up away from the park towards a mob lined up outside a nondescript entrance. White tees and fitted hats, allover print hoodies, bapester and air force one sneaks and a slight whiff of piff. There are a few ladies sprinkled in the crowd but this for the most part is a heavily testosterone scene.

Every Tuesday night at this unassuming location in Manhattan the doors get flung open for New York to get a taste of what's next in the streets. The brainchild of Brooklynite Mental Supreme, the night is billed as Tuesday Training Camp, which also doubles up as the moniker for his nicely quorumed rap crew. Although it's only 4:45 in the afternoon, the sidewalk outside Club Pyramid is owned by these early birds. There will be no latecomers, especially when this is going to be a Tuesday more special than most. When Mental Supreme shows up to take count he only takes those he will see outside into consideration, otherwise you just might have to be really special. Mental's dark suv pulls in at about 5:30. He walks up to the chained doors holding a list, exchanging greetings with all and announces "Aight, who was first?"

In a suprisingly orderly way, the list builds itself. People go out of their way to point out who was there ahead of them. Even those who had been in line but had stepped away and were still missing at Mental's arrival are spoken for. Getting there this late in the game would mean looking at at least 20 people ahead of us, but coming from two hours away on a last minute call-up goes well with Mental. We find ourselves among the first six performers. Once the performances are settled, the crowd melts away to await showtime at 10:00pm.

While there are many similar forums all over the region, Tuesday Training Camp has built a reputation for being a brutally honest rapper showcase. No hoopla about cash prizes, celebrity judges or studio time up for grabs here. Just bring it. If the crowd isn't with it by the time the first hook is done they're obliged to clap you off. Maybe you'll luck up the following week. In a room full of backpacker-like purists and street honed lyricists, their fans, wannabe rappers, highly opinionated people somehow involved in rap music and label execs, the tolerance level is pretty low. We were hoping for a few familiar faces in the crowd but we had left our turf by ourselves, just the two of us, at the last minute scrambling to get out of work to make it there. The crowd that evening was a good mix of suits and baggy jeans, skirts and apple bottom slacks complete with a squadron of boisterous Brooklyn and Jersey dames. Where Harlem at? We make sure we hand out as many cds as possible.

The lights go dim as the DJ fades out his warm-up set of mid-90's boom bap. It's 9:45 but the building is already packed and there is a queue down the street. Mental and sidekick Biggs, who is a leading Training Camp member, get on stage as the Masters of Ceremonies. In the building that evening are executives from G-Unit, Atlantic, Universal and Interscope as well as scouts from D-Block and Def Jam. It's a networking bonanza. Then the reason why Mental had been adamant about us showing up becomes clear: MTV were set up ready to tape the event and there would be a special performance in the middle of the showcase by a brand new Interscope Records artist. The place gets hype. Due to the massive turnout for the showcase that week each act gets to do one song only.

First act, Ancient Scroll, an older, nay, middle aged West Indian with an off beat flow, but tonight he's just off beat and he's offstage in a rush. Act Two launches to the stage with a portable fog machine and polyester outfit like a leftover from an 80's funk band. His love song has an extra long intro and before he even lays into his song he's booed off. Act three is looking jitterish. Indeed, he's forgotten the end of his first verse. Gone. We're up.

Wait. We didn't rehearse, we are about to perform a song that we've never performed before, the crowd has tasted blood and no doubt they want more. Damn, we're up this early? So be it New York. Let's play.

"What up What up....I go by the name Smalls," my partner booms into his mic. "This joint is called Let's Go." With a slight eye cue from me the DJ sets track two off and I enthusiastically plow into my hype man role seeking to quickly find the zone. Smalls goes into the first verse. The crowd watches silently waiting for an opportunity to pounce. Being lyrically deft is a good thing in here and this uptempo club joint has heads bouncing. It seems to be going well with the ladies also. I latch on Smalls' punchlines accentuating them for impact. While Smalls tilts his mic upward rooted to the spot preaching, I venture to roam the small stage casually doing my romp nailing my cues. The second verse is wrapping up and I'm definitely feeling the heat rising from under my shirt, the words are getting throatier, the neck is snapping harder and our posture is confident. I'm channelling Freaky Tah tonight. Smalls is stellar as usual. It's the final stretch now, I spy a girl with a golden jacket and stunna shades getting atop a speaker to the right of us. That's the fuel I need. We've got them. Now we're right on the brim of the stage, words loud, spittle flying, right hand on the mic, left arm in the air body moving in time. "Let's Go!" The music cuts, and the crowd lightly claps. Props never come easy in The Rotten Apple or anywhere in the North East for that matter. And amid the clapping the rant goes up among that Brooklyn bevy, "Bullet! Bullet!" Bless them.

Post-Morterm: Phew... The first survivors of the night. I wonder if it was a good call going up that early, but better that than when the crowd gets weary ten acts in. And this new song we did sounds good live. Good pick.... Damnit Smalls, we forgot to shout out New York. We barely talked to them tonight. Not that it matters. Not as much as when the clapping was happening, as the gunfingers went up in the air, as my Brooklyn darlings saluted us, we proclaimed these words proud. Prouder words still. "Big Up all Africans."

Big Up.

Check out Smalls' brand new mixtape THE BRIEFING available for download.

==============================================

Madaraka Dizzay!!!!

2007-06-01T12:25:00.000-04:00

As I ride into the Nyayo Staduim in the ceremonial titties-out Land Rover with the the red guts.....white rungu in the air while the masses serve makofi za kilo and the Army Band toots that Presidential Funk....

I know, I know....I'm straight violating with the gross neglect of the blog, but for now I've promised myself less wwwing, more grindin, less new music, more 90's hewas and more sunshine. And it's been hot outside. May is always right, the month when the legs return from hiberbnation.

Many moons ago, courtesy of Half n Half I was tagged. Much obliged sweets.

---I'm self taught in a lot of ways. Taught myself to ride a bike, swim, dj, rap, making beats and production. I never really was anyone's understudy for these and other things. I need to study under a mack though. I kick game to chicks like a punk.

---I'm that jamaa they call the Anti-Flick. If I watch more than 10 new movies this year it'll be a brand new record. Don't even ask me the last time I was in the movie theatre. They already dropped Shrek 3 and Shrek 1 hasn't been seen yet. They just don't make movies edgy enough for me. Good winning over evil every single damn time is boring. As is that rapturous kiss that comes in the finale, and the villain's monologue before he takes the L.

----Few things rankle the kid, but I absolutely can't stand folks who see themselves better than the others. And those judgemental holier than thou I'm going to heaven while you flame in a sulphur diesel pit types. And bredren who will dismiss a skirt coz she's only an A-cup with a low fade like Fabolous. Allergic to all that.

----I have no problem being by myself. When I first hit the exile I never ran into another jamhuribody for over 2 years. Never felt the need to and I wasn't going to force it. Put me on an island with some books and some music and I'm good.

---I consider myself funny and all that, but I can never remember any jokes I've heard or been told to me. This is me: "Sikiza, a Rapper, a priest and an Irish man go to the bar and....wait... It's a Rabbi, A priest and a Polish guy...and then....wait....I'll be right back with more drinks."

---I like knowing all kinds of trivia. Like yesterday, I learned Giant Squid live between 1500 and 3000 feet under the sea. Or the AR-15 rifle was the precursor to the M16, which made it's disastrous debut in Vietnam. Or that none of you really give a frruqk.

----I write better than I talk. Like James Earl Jones or Wahome Mutahi, I was a born stammerer, learned my way out of it, but nothing ever comes out the way I want it to. If I could talk like a comic book character with conversation ballons right above my head I would. And every now and then I still st-st-tutter stutter.

I know I know....Say it, don't spray it. My fault.

=====

I understand I must say something profound today in celebration. This has always stuck with me. From an old Cappadonna record. Slang Editorial. The very first line he spits.

'I came to a fork in the road and went straight.'

=====

Happy Madaraka Day to y'all. Stay warm and enjoy Safari Sevens if you are up on the Equator, for those in the heat, warn me ahead of time where the cookout is at. I'm sick with meat on a metal grill over hot coals. And emptying your cooler.

Morale.

===========================================

Planes, Hoops & Kisha

2007-05-10T23:28:00.000-04:00

RIP to the KQ 507 Flight Victims.

But unfortunately, the Blame Game begins. Apparently even KQ isn't sure which pilot was in charge of the plane, a 20 year veteran or a 24 year old young blood. Reminds me of a recent trip where I saw two pilots in NY's JFK Airport looking at the departure screens trying to find the flight number for the plane they were supposed to be flying. You'd think they had been briefed before they even got to the airport. I was glad not to be on their plane.

The NBA Playoffs? More like a soap opera.

If you are missing the drama in the Western Conference NBA Playoffs, jump on the bandwagon. The first round Golden State Warriors - Dallas Mavericks series may have been the most entertaining hoops since the end of the Jordan era, and I mean when he retired the first time. Beat Em Down Jackson, Matt Barnes, BD, and Jason Richardson...stealing that first game in Dallas was magnificent. I was rooting for Denver too but they're going to need a third threat, or a deeper bench. I feel bad for the talented but young Chicago...Detroit is going to embarrass them. Lebron could finally put a respectable notch on his belt if the Cavaliers take New Jersey's scalp. The only hum drum thing about this year's playoffs: The play of the San Antonio Spurs. Their clinical not so exciting style may win them another championship at the expense of the high flying up-tempo Phoenix team. And the Utah Jazz may kill Golden State's Cinderella Story in it's second act.

And condolences also go out to the Chelsea folks. Big bad Man U happened.

American Idol's most recent reject, LaKisha Jones is the next Jennifer Hudson. She's not Melinda Doolittle, but she still has a powerful built-for-soul voice, sounding like wholesome Sunday cooking. Warm, righteous and filling. The way she killed that Whitney Houston song I Have Nothing early in the game was ridiculous. Then how she blessed God Bless the Child? She better be signed already.

I'm going to apologize... I had intentions of posting up some brand new music for y'all but I'm time barred right now. I'mma have to keep this Badu to myself.

Morale.

==============================================

New Blog

2007-05-01T20:21:00.000-04:00

Ladies and gentlemen, children, grunts, bastards, pimps, vagabonds and crack fiends of all ages,

You are invited to a special gala being held at The Badman Academy.

A pitiful selection of words and more words from two lunatics on the run from mental asylum.

Opinions that speak of eargasms and little else, for your general regard and amusement.

The presentations will be on-going and are expected to continue perpetually or until the capture of the aforementioned lunatics is afforded, so you may attend at your own convenience.

Couture of regal bearing is preferred for this gala. Attendees may not forget to bring their fifths of Hennessey.

Adieu.

======================================

SHOOT THE MESSENGER

2007-05-01T17:31:00.000-04:00

My heart goes out for kids running the streets,
Ten years old with nothing to eat, playing in dirt,
Hair never combed, been the same since birth,
And they moms gets too high to change they shirt,
Pardon me this is my vision, the shit that I live in,
Crack heads,baby mothers with n_gg_z in prision,
Stack bread playing the dozens with liqour and izm,
Clap lead, spraying your cousin for sticking your Wisdom,

Ransom - "Hood Visions"
From the 2006 mixtape: DJ Lust Presents Ransom Is The Best In The City

The effigy has been burning for a while. But the long time apprehensions of black activists like Chuck D, Rev. Sharpton and others has taken on new impetus since Bill O'Reilly, Paula Zahn, Anderson Cooper and other mainstream (read: white) commentators have jumped on the bandwagon in the aftermath of the Don Imus fallout (Pitiful, that if it doesn't have White America's imprimatur it remains a fringe issue). And the hollerations are clear: blame hiphop!

Blame hiphop for the fact that influential white Radio Jock, Imus, called some high achieving Black women nappy-headed hoes and got crucified for it; that many of the images you see in Black Entertainment involve misogynistic and derogatory images of women; blame it for the subversive street messages like those that exhort all and sundry to stop cooperating with the police; that Inner City violence continues. Blame hiphop that words like Bling bling have made into the official American Lexicon. Blame hiphop!

Hiphop, like Blues, has always exhibited a blunt-force-trauma style of presentation. While Michael Dyson, Sharpton and others were trying to put together soundbytes for the media castigating the Federal Government as it wrung its hands early in the Hurricane Katrina Disaster, rapper Kanye West put it thus at a national telethon appearance: "George Bush doesn't care about Black People." You may have thought it, may have thought it was too contentious to say around the watercooler or at the supermarket checkout queue to the lady from next door, but there. Kanye stated without apology what he thought was the bottom line on a prime time national tv broadcast.

And hiphop has been saying it. Pinpointing the destruction that is part of the way of life of one of most endangered species on the Planet: the black man. Saying it in ways that the middle and upper class find uncomfortable to face. Jay-Z said "I can't see them coming down my eyes so I gotta make the song cry," rappers stunt like they're uberthugs in search of the next hapless victim to exact a 200 shot drive-by on, but beneath that, they are people wailing for a way out. Just like a drunk will stand up proclaiming he's fine to drive home and then totter dangerously on his feet quietly hoping the performance will elicit a volunteer from his audience to shuttle him safely home.

Before we blame the bearer of the unpalatable news, there are issues that have been ignored for far much longer than hiphop was born in 1974. The disenfrachisement of the American Lower Class - populated by a majority of the black population - in wealth generation and education is not a hot button topic on Anderson Cooper 360 ( "Tonight on The O'Reilly Factor...Libraries. Where are they in the Ghetto?"). The misogyny directed at the Black Woman is a long-standing blight. Think Hottentot Venus, or the scores of black women sexually violated during slavery. Was that perpetrated by Nelly with Snoop keeping watch? The glorification of the Barbie ideal as the standard of beauty that has led Black People to reject their own kinky-headed and dark skinned beauty for horse hair extensions and skin lighteners, was that Uncle Luke's fault? When civic actions by elements of the Los Angeles Black society grew into the nationalist Black Panther Party, the FBI got involved in shutting it down for good and put black people in jail. In the early 20th Century Jewish immigrants in New York, for example, uplifted their lot by forming socialist type groups that created businesses, housing and social support for their own. Contrast that to the demise of the Black Wall Street. There are 2.2 million black males in american prisions, which is directly related to consistent long term discriminate vicitmization of black men by the Police and the Justice system.

Against this backdrop, with dilapidated neighborhoods that are simply economic deserts, the resultant crime and the violence it creates, drug abuse, prostitution and the ultimate disaster,the dismemberment of the Black Family, Hiphop Culture lives. What do you expect rappers to talk about? And while it's true that the billions in revenue hiphop generates come from a mostly white audience, the the audience a rapper directs his music to is the people who are from or bear a similar background to the rapper, or understand it. The rest of the world simply dials in, like watching a gripping reality show.

Another major issue that all the commentators gloss over is the American Recording and Radio Broadcast sectors which bear similarities with professional sports. While Blacks excel as performers in the arenas, they are a small presence in the boardrooms where billion dollar decisions that affect the game are made. And the Federal Trade Comission has been a cheerleader as the recording industry has dwindled to four major players through mergers and acquisitions (Sony, BMG, Universal & EMI) and 80 percent of all the radio stations in America are owned by two companies (Clearchannel and Infinity). The radio aquisitions were initiated by a Clinton-era law that a Republican majority Congress approved. It eliminated the cap on the number of radio stations a single company could own.

Let's not forget the main music video outlets that broadcast urban music (BET, MTV, VHI) are all owned by Viacom. There are simply no avenues today for rappers with an alternative voice to reach the mainstream without going through these corporate gatekeepers. And they are not interested in these rappers. In the early ninties for example, when the marketing formula wasn't set in stone yet, it was possible to contrast the NWA guntalk with the positive philosophies of the Native Tongue Collective. Both perspectives were on blast on major outlets and thus the audience was able to get a more nuanced message out of rap music. At the very least, there was a choice available to listeners.

Similarly in Hollywood, the gatekeepers dictate the content of black films: comedies and action flicks that exploit the common sterotypes. That's what's proven to deliver favorable box-office returns. Any attempts at creating dramatic or serious films that don't make a play on the sterotypes is simply not on the table.

The profit motive will always reign, and simply, vice sells. Be it violence, lust, pride or prejudice. Training Day is feted before Malcom X. Similarly, the recording industry knows now after the trials of the 80's and 90's and the runaway success of some rappers who lived and died by the gun in their lives and music (RIP), that 50 Cent will raise more eyebrows - and hence generate more revenue - than Common Sense. The radio broadcast industry, long in bed with the recording industry through a system of payments-for-airplay, bows to the the will of its symbiotic partner. When the decision is made to promote crime and gunplay, empty antagonism, excess materialism, pimpery and rump shaking and the stifling of messages of upliftment and genuine explorations issues in the ghetto, the rappers have no say. The ones that want to move from Hollis to the Hamptons, from Bankhead to South Beach, from Long Beach to Palm Springs, they have to hop to the masters organ tune and make music along these lines. Radio obliges and plays the same 30 or so songs the record companies want to sell the the most over and over, all day long. The playlist on a hiphop & r&b radio station in Boston is similar to the one in Chicago or St Louis or San Diego with few variations. Independent Labels that currently support messages alternative to the status quo in rap simply have no pull on mainstream networks, and therefore, their records never reach the larger part of the listenership.

And there is the problem, O'Reilly, Anderson Cooper et al. First, the opportunities for Rap and other Black music to fully express its First Amendment Right to Free Speech has been slaughtered at the altar of the Greenback Temple. The corporations involved do their best with marketing blitzes that leave the listenership no option but to swallow the drivel that is force fed to them.

Secondly and most important, the destructive issues that plague the ghetto haven't changed for generations, and thinking banning certain words from lyrics will change things in the ghetto, where these messages hit home the hardest, is window dressing. Parking the blame in front of the Rap driveway is myopic and futile. Integrated solutions that address the socio-economic issues as well as harmful messages in rap music are in order. So burn the Hiphop effigy. Paint it as the Bad Guy. Find Killa Cam and ask him why he won't snitch. Boost ratings, work up a lather among the Leafy Surbub Set whose kids buy the music and solve nothing.

Indulge Responsibly

2007-04-26T16:39:00.000-04:00

Horrorscene Hollywood Crack.

Zero calories.
100% source of essential Savage Music nutrients.
Regular users are advised to utilize a neck brace or enjoy this product from a relaxed or laying down postion.
Has an Automobile Association 5 Star in-cab entertainment rating.
Also interacts well with other intoxicants.

SURGEON GENERAL'S WARNING: Contents are highly habit forming.

24 Tracks. Heist International/Street Corner Ent Release. April 2007. Expires: Never.

Get high.

Is this what is feels like to be a proud daddy? Opium Black is the current Breeding Ground Artist on Allhiphop.com. Past alumni include Joell Ortiz, Papoose, Stimuli and I believe Saigon. Some of these dudes are in major level situations. Ortiz just got signed to Aftermath last year, 'Poose is Mr. 1.5 million dollars and Saigon has an enviable unbeatable access to beats by Just Blaze courtesy of being signed to Blaze's Fort Knox imprint on Atlantic.

====================================

Picture Me Grindin

2007-04-19T21:18:00.000-04:00

Baaaang,
Aint nuthing to talk about pay me,
N_gga we go 'head and spark it out early,
When I'm gunning for your head,
I'm riding, you dying my gun go
Baaaang....

Opium Black & Sam Scarfo - Bang (you can hear it here. You're late, you'll have to scroll down and search a little)

Riding in a nondescript two-seater at 11 am on a Saturday morning and it feels wrong to be outside right now. I mean, here I am barely five hours after I crept into my domicile for a hot meal and warm bed covers....chilling outside the theater, about 900 people inside getting the best of a Stepshow and we're waiting for them to come outside. It's no time to hunker down and wish for more slouch minutes, we need to be ready for them. Baaang.... that song gets me for real.... can I hear that one mo 'gain before we hop out the whip?

Something's wrong in the Northeast, it's April and the weather hasn't broken yet. This frigid nonsense makes the job harder. Taping up posters to walls and light poles with trembly and numb fingers. Oh well. Get those 5'X5' cd inserts in hand, make sure the grab bag has at least thirty cds in it. It's 11:30, let's revist what the rest of the team has done. Walk up to Don-Don and his homie finishing off a pungent dutch. It's looking good. Those posters are unmistakable up and down the street and in the parking lot. The City's going to hate us. When this crowd gets outside there's one thing they're going to see:

DJ Kurupt & Opium Black. Black Plague. In Stores Now.

12:15, the early birds start trickling out of the building Don-Don, his buddy and myself position ourselves by the main entrance. Every walking stiff gets handed a cd insert and an obligitory appeal is sounded for them to support the brand new mixtape 'in the streets now'. The cuties get a free cd if the sound excited enough, and the real dudes if they with it. The hobnobbing in the home city is usually easy. The dimes light up "Oh Opium! I met him before!" or "I've heard him on the radio!" or "I saw him on stage last summer! Where y'all at tonight?" And based on the misinformation served you might be copping some really utilizable digits from a pretty thang.

It's looking good. Don and his mans seem like they could handle what's left. I'm off with my my right hand man to handle some other work. We're heading towards the genesis of the whole movement.

The Northside.

An area of roughly 12 city blocks by 12 blocks. The reason why this city is a perennial feature on the top 25 most violent cities list in the The States. A wasteland of old colonial style two or three family houses and tri-level apartment blocks mixed in with corner stores and run-down shopping areas. Mostly of Black - with a heavy west indian bent - and Latino makeup. Streetcorner drug sales, late night gunfights, crazy parties in hole-in-the-wall joints and drug fiends walking up and down the main strips in broad daylight. Zombies trying to come back from the undead, if only for a while. That's jsut a small part of it. Many are just trying to get ahead and live good.

I get dropped off at the end of a busy thoroughfare, what we call The Ave, with a stack of posters and scotch tape. My partner is off to put cds in the stores. 45 minutes later I'm all the way up into the heart of the shopping area on the strip, putting up posters in and outside barber shops, hair salons, clothing stores food marts, convenience stores and liqour spots. Placement is key, trying to prominently position the posters for maximum reach both in and out of the premises. Not all stores are with it though. Some represent ah yard, them no want no Yankee nonsense dat. And some are christian. No hiphop grafitti on their walls.

An hour an a half later, slighty cold all over, my fingers definitely feeling frozen and abused, I'm back in the whip again feeling like it's a job well done. Son, gimme track seven again,

Baaaang,
They gon put the chalk around you,
N_ggas is scared to walk around you,
When I'm gunning for your head,
I'm riding, you dying my gun go
Baaaang.....

We circle the strip again double checking the work. Then it's off to another area, Killa Hill to bombard the stores in that area with posters and drop some cds in the music stores and bootleggers that do business in the area. An hour later with a little more cash in the pocket we head to the 'hood to pay dues. Don-don sounds off bouyantly over the nextel walkie-talkie saying he managed to off half his stash of discs outside the stepshow venue. Lovely. We pull up to the hood and my partner is immediately met with cat calls and hollerations as dudes on the corner spy on one of their own respected bretheren outside.

"Aay Opium what it is kicko, where my joint at?"
"Whooo, That intro is bananas, had n_ggas dummin last night."
This shit just dropped last night? I just went by The Ave I seen the poster in the bodega. That shit looking sick. Who did that? That shit look crazy, for real."
"Eey Inf, man I want beats man, and stop bullshittin me, I want them type joints you gave Black n_gga. What the f_ck dog...you hiding that crack from n_ggas huh..."

As warm handslaps and hugs go around, dudes stay wary of the two black and white police squad cars that pulled up at the end of the block effectively curtailing, for who it may concern, some drug sales for a little while. The fiends are put on alert and told to hold tight and wait for the situation to change. Meanwhile the word is spreading. The intersection is getting piled up as o.g's gone legal and street kingpins on the low bring their maximas, beemas and suvs out to the corner. The street mainstays are also outside. Early saturday afternoon in April starts to look like July. The traffic into the liqour store on the corner starts to thicken and the fifths of Hennesey start flowing. The doors on the vehicles stay open and each vehicle is booming some type of track off the brand new mixtape we've slaved over for a few months.

Seeing this reaction in thie neck of the woods is a good sign. Later on in the month there are mixshow meetings at radio stations, meetings with influental hiphop website execs and a few A&Rs at the club performances we have inked for the rest of the month, and they all need to be impressed. And there are out of town trips planned to promote where the people wont be as easily excited, but once they hear the crack we're serving they must show some respect and buy the mixtape or come to a show. And the gatekeepers must offer us some opportunities. We want in.

Creating buzz for an artist is such a tall order especially for independent bugdet goons like we. But this month alone has justified many of the things we've been through. Riding out to the Apple, seeing the artist chilling on the set of a new Kel Spencer video, or just getting love from a big-time dj at a big time club at some big time album release party, or when an allhiphop.com heavyweight puts his word on it that we can expect a serious look on that heavy traffic site...some work is getting done. They're starting to know about dude....

The grind continues.

Morale.

===========================

More Miseducation

2007-03-23T05:18:00.000-04:00

Indulging in mind-bending soul has been a pet fetish for the kid for a while, okay, forever. And the worst thing about being stateside is that it's so much harder to feed thyself on audio art that exists on the fringes, or isn't of Yankee origin because if it's not on corporate Radio or TV, it might as well not be made, because you will hear it nada. Which is why it saddens me that I've been late to this party. I'm usually early to the hanyee...I'm getting sloppy...damn.

When it comes to soul the Brits have always been unafraid of putting together work that would make any 'normal' american record executives throw themselves out of a 5th Avenue office perched on the 26th floor. That Brit-Soul has, time after time, taken chances is an understatement. In my mind, Neo-Soul's daddy is none other that funky, avant-garde Northern English heathen, Acid Jazz; the bastard child of soul that refused to play it safe, that embraced Disco and Jazz and took them to another place. It could never have been born on US terra firma. It would have been forced to meet quarterly sales quotas and sell toys to suburban 12 year olds. Before the world embraced D'Angelo there was the Brand New Heavies. Simple.

In that vein of taking soul music to a different place cometh a white brunette who effortlessly channels the 60's refreshingly, fleshing out tunes that feel like you're tooling in a 1967 Renault listening to your AM radio with your gashungwa cozily underarm, until you realize you're solo and Downtown bound on the 8:36 shuttle, Ipod earbuds thumping.

Wakey wakey dreamer, you're quite adrift from Motown, or 1967, for that matter, but what's cooking doesn't sound dated. And it's far from the latest edition of shrink-wrap-shipped packages of cookie cutter dry hump love tune jesters meant to deter supplicants from realizing what they're missing. Baby girl's heart sounds like it lives on her sleeve on tracks like, Rehab, the break up ditty Back to Black, Wake up Alone, Tears Dry on Their Own and Me and Mr. Jones (fuckery). Who's been doing this woman dirty?

And it turns out her management at the time really tried to make her go to Rehab but she said 'no, no, no.' One of the best songs that will be heard this year, whether radio plays it or not.

Well some folks have been dying for a Lauryn Hill revival, but who knew the next chapter in The Miseducation of soul music would come from North London.The album Back To Black has finally hit US shores (UK got their fix last October). DJ Mark Ronson and Salaam Remi did their thing.

Oh.

Amy Winehouse is her name.

Also, brand new music can be heard from Brit-girls Joss Stone and Lily Allen.

Morale.

==============================

Bastards & Hudson

2007-03-02T00:02:00.001-05:00

I finally got to watching some TV last weekend. I Caught this HBO documentary by Antoine Fuqua, Bastards of the Party. It's a look into how racism birthed the Inner City LA gangs, how the demise of the 60's black political movements - The Panthers and US Movement - seeded the notorious Crips and Blood Gangs in Los Angeles and how the Feds, Reganomics and the South American drug cartels pitched in to nuture them. There were chilling parallels for me with the situation back in the Good City with Taliban, Mungiki et al.

Msanii is back with a banging podcast. Fika hapo speedi. Great value for 77 minutes of your life.

And sexcapades at the Nation Media Group read like an unedited David Maillu script. Courtesy of Mentalacrobatics.

Was it me it, or did it feel good to see The Yonce get showed up by Miss Jennifer Hudson on Oscar Night? I hope her LP will be fuego coz I'm rooting for her, before she really goes diva.

Caught a few performances recently. Pharaohe Monch's new material is nice, we'll see what the market thinks. The new single Desire is fire. He still puts it down on stage. Sean P is always a treat. Doesn't really get any better for the those who want to see wordsmiths. Saigon has buzz and some good songs but his stage game is wanting. But he's only a hit away from all that.

A great weekend y'all. I'll be prowling the Planet of Brooklyn peddling beats. Mia mia! Beba na Soh!

Morale.

======================================

Oh So Thickely

2007-02-18T21:28:00.000-05:00

So here's hoping your V-day was sweet and popping. Mine, well in the words of Katt Williams, I had to make a pimp decision. So I laid low....maybe not the best thing for some of the dames who carry on in life thinking they've got my graces, but this pimp laid low enjoyed the V-day snowstorm that hit my yard solo.

But the day after, the flak hit. The how could you nots, the shame on yous and the we're not talking right nows, but a buddy (word to Musiq) was nice enough to share their free passes to see Robin Thicke. The Jon B of this decade. He has dudes around here kind of mad though because Ms. Paula Patton (pictured below) is his main squeeze. She appeared recently in the movie Deja Vu.

He lost the dirty hippie appeal, steered away from the neo-soul vibe and added slick production to his second lp, but the boy still brings that raw soul sound to his show. This one was at an upscale bar frequented by the 9-5 urban bourgie types. They were out in their grown and sexy gear. The sistas were out in full force. It was small for the 300 deep in the house and everybody was pressed in tight at the 11:15 pm show time. I prefer those venues to the arena shows where binoculars and other telescopic devices are needed. Don't bring your good shoes though.

Drummer, guitarist, keys and bass alongside Mr. Patton, sorry, Mr. Thicke on piano was the gang on stage. He ran through his singles: Shooter, Wanna Love You girl, Switch and the current falsetto hit Lost Without You. He also auditioned a new song, a slow player that was also pretty good, although the name escapes me. He definitely got me at the end with his rendition of Al Green's Let's Stay Together. A low blow, but one that will always work.

A quick set but not bad. Catch him if you can.

Morale.

==================================

Back Behind Enemy Lines

2007-02-09T23:41:00.000-05:00

Yeah, yeah, so my much prided lifetime supply of Lifebouy soap recorded a snafu in mid-December. And that pretty much was my pretext to retreat from a frosty North East hustle for the so, so, sickly sumptuous Nairobi Heat.

The place has grown, as evidenced by the increased level of hustle. When thinking about economic trickle down effects, that's the biggest one for me. Even Mama Samaki in my hood stays outside till 10pm nightly. Its was good to see the old haunts, my peoples showing growth, the guns still popping and the ladies are still the flyest. I admit, I had forgotten how ridiculous the mami game is. Hwhat....

It was a blessing to experience the hip-hop movement there. Radio isn't showing heavy love but it's in the streets, and hip-hop is the streets. It ariseth.

Just put up some new music on the jumpoff page. Back on the grind again the mixtape will be here soon.

Morale.

Freeky Furahiday: Part Siete.

2006-12-01T21:30:00.000-05:00

Meet the Negroes, No love for the Bastards & Dubai Ballin

Checking in from a self inflicted hiatus in the warzone. Kuhangaika like a fish out of water, while trying to ignore the Rudolf the Red Nosed Reindeerisms that plague this end of the planet around this time of year. Hopefully I will have something to show for the grind.

Leave me in a room alone with him your honor, just three minutes: Michael Richards better known as Kramer to Seinfeld geeks (or is it KKKramer) will be meeting with the recipients of his racist rage under the mediation of a retired judge. If only the judge would suggest some anger management therapy in the format of bust his ass. Check this little anecdote about other racially toned happenings on the Seinfeld set.

-----------

Meanwhile, back in Muddy Waterworld, I mean Jamhuri (poleni with the heavy rains), the Justice system has refused to make delinquent fathers pay for children born out of wedlock, according to the Sato Daily Nation. Some lobby groups were looking to have sections of the Children's Act repealed to allow for such provisions. The Act insists on having the single mother meeting certain criteria before the father can execute his duties. I wonder what the criteria are:

1.Must regard the absent father as husband and accord to him the respect that office comes with.

2. Must maintain a regal sense of being: a tasteful backside and the titty game better be righteous.

3. Must be available for all frivolous booty calls. Must be willing to fulfill whatever the absent father asks for.

4. Must be ready to be disregarded and overlooked on a whim and bear that as the opportunity cost of playing the game.

And out here jamaas get wages garnished on a weekly basis for children they love dearly but they cannot interact with due to court sanctions. Look under: Grown men cry.

Maybe our single mothers should demand a few minutes alone in a room with these judges too...

Also in the same Sato pages, a story quoting alleged secret documents of how the first Kenyan government was forced to buy assets left behind by the colonial regime. Quite akin to the dealer being forced out of a neighborhood, but he digs in, and forces the residents to buy the crack spot, busted furniture, hot electronics and all from him.

--------

I've been wowed by this track by Da Rugged Underground Zoo (D.R.U.G.Z) Clique. Staarabu. I'm not sure when this came out, but the video recently hit youtube. Holla at Msanii on the hook up and Diehard for killing this track.

Over 1.8 million people have paid homage to Jiggaman and bought the new album. Platters like Lost One, Kanye produced Do You Wanna Ride, 3o Something, Dipset diss Dig a Hole and Katrina diatribe (yup, the boy gets his Bono on) Minority Report display the wit, wordplay, introspection and social outlook that make this comeback album worth the listen. Thankfully its a very straight-ahead east coast offering. Is it me or did Beyonce ruin Hollywood? Just Blaze and Dr. Dre did their thing on production. That other joint with Usher is also weak. It's not the super triumphant return many wistfully envisioned, but it's a quality release in a year that needed it.

Expect similar flashes of brilliance from Nas. In current rotation is a song that samples Nat King Cole's Unforgettable: Nas featuring Chrisette Michele, Can't Forget About You. And let me not talk about Black Republicans.

------------

Big up Maseno High School repping hard in the Middle East in the U-19 catergory of the Dubai Sevens. The big boys though had it rough, losing all their day one group matches. Get 'em on day two!

Morale bastards.

====================================

Freeky Furahiday: Sehemu ya Sita

2006-11-10T02:26:00.000-05:00

So Donald Rumsfeld is out and ex-CIA chief (deputy director for intelligence) Robert Gates is in. Don't trust Bush to pick a squeaky clean official as Defense Secretary. Mr Gates is linked to the Iran-Contra scandal.

Meanwhile the revised civilian death count in Iraq since the war started is 150,000.

Last Furahiday Edition I spoke on Afro-Soul artist Sam Oendo. His website is finally up. Slide thru.

Also check out Shidamingi Crew, with a few brand new songs up for display on (where else) hewaspace. One of them, Blind Wuns, is a potent collaboration featuring your favorite Nairobi hip-hop proponents, Mwafrika and Muki Garang.

It's been one of the biggest rumors of the year in rap. The alleged very public coziness between two grown New Orleans male rappers and Cash Money Records moguls Birdman aka Baby, and his adopted son and current southern rap darling, Lil Wayne. They also had the number three album in the US this week.

Juvenile spoke on it, Gillie the Kid spoke on it, but they were disgruntled ex- Cash Money associates and it may have been explained as them being vengeful. But recently Lil Wayne tried to address the allegations on New York radio as it being like a mafioso thing. You know.....men....expressing.....let me stop. I guess it wasn't that much of a tall tale...

I love the looks on west coast crooner TQ (jamaa with the flute glass) and the supa black dude with the white headband.....priceless. And the other two are looking away trying to act like it's not going down like that. Then there is homie in the background in the sky blue looking dead-on like he was wishing he was in on it....

Naah...he just can't look away unlike his friends.

Maybe they need to get hands laid upon them.

Morale.

=================================

WENT SHOPLIFTING THIS WEEKEND Vol. 2

2006-11-07T12:10:00.000-05:00

From Musikland on Moi Ave to a Sam Goody in Omaha his prowess is unmatched. I'm proud to welcome again my sticky fingered compadre with a bad music habit, Shop Liftah, here to give us the deal on a few new cds he umm...acquired... recently.

It's almost time for a Styles P record. Consistently spitting that hardcoreness, Lox and D-Block frontman Styles P embodies the grittyness and bleakness of the New York concrete jungle. PCutta and DNA compile together newer and older tracks in the run up to the release of Styles' second lp Time is Money. Close to the Concrete, Aint Buying What U Sellin' and 914 are stellar examples of that bangout music Styles P is beloved for. Fewer people get consistent attention on mixtapes. Every other week some DJ has a best of Styles compilation or something similar out. This joint could've been better but until he brings his new album or an all new music mixtape to the table, I guess we have to deal with the scraps.

Undoubtedly one of New York's finest, of all time, delivers his 6th piece independently and that means the greater masses of ears in need of something more quality get to miss out. I Am the Truth, is just that as Az makes his case. Sit Em Back with fellow Brooklynites MOP is a raucous stomp-em-out heater and Little Brother show up for a marvellous collaboration on Rise and Fall. If the Nas-Az project never sees the light of day then may we take this opportunity to lobby for a DJ Premier-Az opus, as the duo reunite with good results on the title track. Az doesn't play out of pocket. It's mainly introspective hood philosophy and street storytelling told with that flawless flow over soul themed beats. Get High and Doing That should have been replaced, although they are minor shortcomings. This album may go over the Snap and Hyphy set but Allah be praised that The Aziatic is back.

It must be a New Jersey thing. Like Jahiem, the one time Teddy Riley understudy and Jersey City native Shareefa delivers sung performances with a real tight street appeal on her debut album Point of No Return. Since her appearance on the second DTP compilation last year it was apparent that she was not afraid to write about something other than love, which R&B's worst ailment currently, and sing with a realness that is hard to ignore. The Intro starts with a rock bottom moment, as she's sent to prision. And then Rodney Jerkins helps her get closure from a bad relationship on Cry No More. Another key ingredient to this piece is gogo maestro turned R&B wunderkid, Rich Harrison, who matches her street sensibility with soundscapes that recall the boom-bap driven soul of the mid 90's. No One Said lifts a sample popularized by Biggie Smalls on his first album, How Good Love Feels sounds like something Mary J. Blige would have done for her second album. Phony touches upon a betrayal by a girlfriend, not over a man, but some undisclosed situation that actually saw Shareefa behind bars for a stint. The tail end of the album slows down. DTP compatriot Bobby Valentino drops in for a bump-n-grind session on Hey Babe, Eye Wonder is a cheating-with-him episode, while Fever explores a crush. She may have only moved 30k on her first week but this is easily one of the finer all-around R&B performances of 2006.

Round Two is always a watershed phase, and for the New Millenium Nate Dogg his second album is probably his best chance to solidify his Konvict Music movement. From the jump Shakedown is that gangsta crooning that Akon is making his own. Styles P returns for Blown Away, another street bandit two step anthem. Never Took the Time, Dont Matter and I Can't Wait offer a different look as Akon does the love song thing. Akon still shines with the street conscious music, on Gringo, he's a drug dealer making a pitch, and on Tired of Running he's a street hustler done with ducking the Law. Then there's Mama Africa, a reggae joint in tribute to his roots. Overall, Konvicted stays true to what Akon does well, with a few radio songs (Smack That and I Wanna Love You) thrown in to cement the traffic to the music store.

Another year another album. Jim Jones is definitely a prime example of how the constant grind of keeping your name out in the street whether it's albums back to back, umpteen mixtapes, being on the red carpet at the VMA's and still doing club appearances in the roughest locales in the East Coast can do to boost your profile. Stylistically, what do you expect. More thuglife, hustler tales, and floss bossman rants from Jones and Dipset Byrdgang expressed over slicked out synths and drums. Emotionless, Pin the Tail and Weatherman are notables although they all have guests on them. More people have Jim Jones' name in their heads this year than last and there is a feeling in the northeast that there is a need for their own new star instead of all the mainstays or out of town boys and Jones is well placed to feed off that. Judging by his current buzz off the runaway hit We Fly High, this will be one of the hood soundtracks of choice for many this winter.

====================================================

Freeky Furahiday Part Ngovo

2006-11-03T18:06:00.000-05:00

Bidding himself as the 'new sound of Afro-Urban Soul,' California based Sam Oendo is readying the release of his debut album in conjunction with Zambian outfit Malabath Music. Najitahidi stood out to me. You can listen to it as well as a few other hewas on his myspace page.

And after myspace comes niggaspace. Some people are heated about it too.

Movie rant: Avoid Borat at all costs. That dude, Tom Green and the cast of Jackass need to share the same padded cell. Or be sold to slavery in a Zambian copper mine.

There has been some buzz about Christianity and sex on the blog ring thanks to Future Diplomat and others, and this story shows the two-facedness of the chest thumping puritans. The head of the U.S. National Association of Evangelicals resigned on Thursday November 2nd after being accused of having a sexual relationship with a male escort. And this dude is all about banning gay marriage too, lol. Republicans. Ted Haggard is George Bush's spiritual advisor and talks weekly to the main man behind the Republican Machine Karl Rove.

Maybe some folks need to be real and keep it freaky.

Rest in Peace: Comedian Nyundo Wa Komeo (Francis Abina Madieka) who is being buried in Budalangi, Busia District this weekend. He appeared on national tv shows like Kinyonga, Vitimbi and Wingu la Moto.

Morale, Freaks.

===============================================

I WENT SHOPLIFTING THIS WEEKEND.

2006-10-18T11:19:00.000-04:00

Let's celebrate. Kardinal Offishall is finally looking to get a realistic stab at mainstream success at his new home, Akon's Konvict Music. And to celebrate: a Whoo Kid mixtape Canadian Coke is in order to start the streets salivating. It comes complete with a policeman buss 'em tirade (Officer Down), a kenyan Boston Marathon reference (Take the Money) and a patois flavored banger (All the Way). Vybez Kartel steps up with tough gangster posturing (Everybody Gone Gangsta), while Socrates and Choclair re-up for a mean rehash over a Rza backdrop (T-dot Chambers).

Kardinall enjoys cult status in Toronto and it's hard not to see how his hype part b-boy, part rudebwoy persona, and sharp delivery can excite. Looks like T-dot is finally ready to export something fuego.

Tekzilla is spitting a lot more on his new joint, and it's all on point. Recent Aftermath R&B signee Dion is all over this album ( 5 tracks) and doesn't disappoint. Ayak (whatever happened to Jonell) blows marvellously on Can We Go Back. Q-tip and DPG's Kurupt sound like they could be in a group together on Keep it Moving, Ghostface paints a crack queen scenario with the Willie Cottrell Band and Busta Rhymes methodically shuts it down on March. Four New York rappers bring a gritty city anthem to life,
Strong Arm Steady finally gives us a taste of what to expect on their Blacksmith/Warner debut, and Nas paints an absolutely ridiculous true school picture on Music For Life.

Hi-Tek brings his trademark knock, a more high-profile guest list (no Slum Village, Mood or Jinx Da Juvy, but more Talib) that for the most part does its thing and as such, brings forth an easy to listen to head-nodder.

Banks delivers trademark G-Unit thugman gunrap sprinkled with a few Blue Hefner detours of which Help and One Night Stand are stellar examples. Beat selection was on point, but Eminem's beat and Fif collabo Hands Up doesn't deliver. Addicted with Musiq knocks, Gilmore is bouncy and Mobb Deep's Prodigy is actually less sluggish on Get Clapped.

In future hindsight, this album will stand out as being a brash and slick New Yorkcentric piece in a shoulder-lean-walk-it-out arena.

He swerved into our speakers on the back of Kanye Soul, with an album that had as much hiphop sensibility as it had soul. Chapter two features tunes with more pop-rock lean in them. Current pop standard sounding single Save Room starts the collection off, but before you get it twisted, track two, Heaven comes in with that Kanye boom-bap; Again sounds like an Ordinary People except it's a his & her blame game story. Maxine sounds like a piano bar lounge rumba inspired joint as does Where did my baby go.

But overall, the hip-hop soul of his first record is not all over this record. He's still firmly behind his Steinway and although rhythmically he takes it to a different place, he sings with the same earnest soul and each song stands strongly on its own.

Oh how the mighty creep on the low: this chic used to be on diva status, and songs like Angel of Mine and Why I Love You So Much were top-40 favorites on blast to the point I can't bear to hear them again. But a lot of black singers who've tasted middle america adulation opt to return to a more urban flava and appease that constituency especially after an extended hiatus. This joint picks up where the last one left off. With songs like Sideline Ho, Hell Now, and Gotta Move On, she is still making confrontational love songs about love gone bad, which she does well. I don't how how they dont have the advisory sticker on this record.

There are a few missteps (Everytime The Beat Drop is an unnecessary Snap music salute) and she doesn't really harrass her vocal range in this offering, even doing some of her singy-songy rappin, but songs like the Curtis Mayfield sampled A Dozen Roses, Doin Me Right, and Gotta Move On suffice this go-around.

Still going for a grown and sexy appeal on album three. No up-tempo mishaps featuring the vogue blabberer, oops, rapper of the moment. Just love songs - mid-tempo joints and slow jams - for that ass. And a Luther remake for a bonus. Nothing really stands out, he's playing the skillful teddy bear balladeer thing to the tilt.

==============================================

The BuZZZZ

2006-10-11T18:25:00.000-04:00

Nuff respect to Msanii XL for the opportunities and the love he showed me on BNTS Episode 6. I believe I'm one of many who respect and are inspired by your grind.

Thanks to Ciru for dropping this in my inbox. And I share it with you.

===================

Young Kenyans Trail blazing around the World

DJ Stylez
DJ Stylez has now risen to prominence as one of Kenya's renown Premiere DJ. With a list of accomplishments to his name DJ Stylez has been nominated for Best DJ in Africa category for the Best Dj Africa category. Please Vote for DJ Stylez.

Nameless Gets a Nod For European MTV
Kenyan singer David Mathenge ( Nameless) leads other African artists in nominations for best African act during this years Europe MTV Awards (MTV EMAs) to be held in Copenhagen, Denmark in November. Nameless is among the 5 nominees representing the African continent including upbeat Nigerian R&B twins P-Square,Tanzanian Bongo flava star Sir Juma Nature among others. Ever evolving global super star Justin Timberlake will host and also perform at the most explosive, star studded music event in the European Calendar. Please Vote for Nameless.

Hip Hop Colony for Truth Awards
The critically acclaimed film has once again been nominated for Best Independent Film at the Truth awards, which takes place in Chicago, Saturday, October 14th 2006. Please Vote for Hip Hop Colony. Hip-hop Colony

Jay Z Rocks Kenyan Wear, damn!
For the African chapter of the global express tour ( Water for Life tour), Jay Z teamed up with the most authentic African label under the planet, Jamhuri Wear whose creater, Kimathi, helms from Kenya. The fashion designer clearly comes out as a trend setter as he threads Hip Hop's biggest star for the African leg of his tour. Visit Jamhuriwear.com

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BUMPS, BONGO-LOON , NAIL GUNS & THE MONDAY DEBATE

2006-10-09T15:31:00.000-04:00

Oooh weee, Colombus Day....not that it stopped me from doing my daily weekday hustle as usual. What a weak reason to have a day off though. Dude got lost and "found" a new continent... Fine, if they want to credit some white person and shut down government offices and schools in his honor, at least crown the right jamaa, Lief Ericsson, son of Erik the Red.

Some Colombus Day treats: a few more K.E artist myspace pages to peep while you're searching for that next jumpoff.

Diehard: representing for Da Rugged Undaground Zoo. They are based in Jericho Estate.

Jero: Outering Estate lyricist now based in the A. Recently dropped a mixtape.

Staccato: a member of the Shida Mingi Crew.

Loon found his way to Dar although he may have ran into some trouble shooting a video for a new single that features the current Miss Tz as his love interest. He kept it real though, jumped in the studio with local artists and cooked it up. But slapping your pointman around for not having everything in order is not what it's cut out to be. Especially if it isn't in a Harlem barbershop (In the summer Loon banged on a Dipset affiliate 40-Cal with a shovel inside a barbershop in Harlem).

The Wire anyone? Easily the one of the best reasons to get HBO even though a non-tv watcher like myself will wait for the dvd. For their final season they got a gully sista, Snoop Pearson, who is shown here shopping for some 'tools.' You gotta love a girl with a dangerous streak. Built too hood for some though.

This was inspired by Half Kenya Half Sudan's tirade at Monday. She meant well when she said that there should be an International Kamukunji of sorts where all the relevant nerds meet up and use their expert opinion to abolish Monday.

The sad truth is if they got rid of Monday i.e. they turned Monday into a weekend day, then Tuesday would become the scapegoat of all the evil that Monday has become burdened with. Which will lead to more yodelling about Tuesday Blues, calls for the abolition of Tuesday, etc.

My proposal is to add more Fridays. Work one day then get two off. Nothing beats the feeling of having that 6 pm Furahiday Rush every three days.

All in favor....waonyeshe vidole vya kati.

And to all you lucky bastards that are having a real day off tomorrow, I salute thee. You guys get the Monday Blues twice in the week. Why do we do Moi Day again?

Morale.

==========================================

The Bamboocha Recipe:

2006-09-26T01:41:00.001-04:00

Add ingredients carefully:

Add summa this:

And a little of this:

Ensure the proper libations to the ancestors, dearly departed and cherished ones in absentia are made.

Halafu...

Add a little of this if you please,

The following should be done only with the availability of suitable Audio Crack Cocaine delivered in horrifying high decibel deep bass stereo by a suitably trained merchant.

Apply the mantra of the great sage Tony Matterhorn, "I will grind 'em."

Be it in the cut:

Or a little more in the open,

Or apply something similar to that with newly found or more regular associates,

And you will have yourself one copius serving of Friday Night Nirvana.

Big up Black Ice Crew for nicing the bashement and J-Cruz on the paparazzi grind.

====================================

Freeky Furahiday: Part Quattro: By Day......

2006-09-22T01:12:00.000-04:00

He's the brutha opening doors for your lady.....

By night, he's force-feeding her cuervo black....ama cham,

Lamba glassi kabisa!! Na umemwaga kidogo kwa meza wewe! Nyonya hio umemwaga na straw!!

Whatever your fancy... me only means well.

I am makanga and I approve this message.** (End commercial)**

Check out last weekend:

It was a good night, the Alphas brought the women out and completely shut down two other concurrent parties with the diesel turnout.Without expecting it, my lounge turned into the reggae room, complete with big-body gal dem, hella guinness and the furry burnt shrubbery. The dutty wine contest was just that...dutty, and Goodas Fi Dem played for 16 minutes straight. Bullet!

This weekend:

Friday, Rick Ross is coming to the area, this group I work with is opening for him. The FESI (femme exposed skin index) is going to be silly even though it will be chilly. I won't be in that building though, gotta rock this fiesta:

It will be a little bit more sedate than the Rick Ross - wait let me stop lying...80% chance kutathoka.

Then Sato, one of my artists is doing a belated born-day soiree, with two other big parties I'm supposed to guest spin at.

Where's the afterparty at?

I almost forgot the main reason I came thru today. Jabali Afrika are back with a new album, Mayosi. This coming Wednesday the 27th, they will be live at Joe's Pub in the Rotten Apple thundering down. They will be heading to Jamhuri in late November.

Morale.

=====================================

SAMBA, CASH, MIXTAPES & ROOMY SPACES

2006-09-12T01:58:00.000-04:00

So 9-11 arrived and went. I literally ducked all the melodramatic hoopla on tv. Wasn't too hard though, your boy is busy. The Nairobi Bombings hit home hard for me. I was on Tom Mboya St when the truck blew up in 1998. Much respect to all the innocent fallen worldwide from Bali, to London, to Dar, in an ideologial/political/economic war that shows no peaceful resolve.

Meanwhile over the weekend, Kenya did good and whooped Namibia in Nairobi in a Rugby World Cup qualifier. Despite the problems with our game, basically a gross lack of chapaa, this one has been a long time coming. Big up. Next up, Tunisia.

Speaking of which I just read about some billionaire that gave $ 165 million to an American university (Oklahoma State), not for improvement of academics or lowering tuition, how dare he, but rather for the Athletic department,with american football getting 120 mill and the rest to the other sports. I doubt our national sports programs have spent that much money combined since independence. Meanwhile, Oklahoma State ranks in the bottom third of all american states in infant death, child health insurance coverage and child neglect. One in seven people in Oklahoma are in the risk of hunger (according to a Sports Illustrated commentator).

Phat Kat is a Detroit rapper who enjoyed the musical comradeship and production of the late great beat guru J Dilla. Check out his new all-snippet mixtape Quiet Bubble featuring production from J-Dilla and Black Milk among others. Si mbaya. FFWD >> to 16:36. That track is pure beauty. Dilla will be missed. His new posthumously released album The Shining is in stores.

DJ Dona based in Kansas just dropped a mixtape Bado Nimesota featuring music from Nyashinski, Shida Mingi Crew, Shazz, Maleek and other Kenyan notables. Free download here.

Curb your Enthusiasm is one of the funniest things on HBO. I peeped a season of it on dvd over the summer. It features Larry David, one of the chief writers for the bigtime Seinfeld sitcom. Sawa, blackdom isn't representing heavy in his work, but it's funny nonetheless. Check out a small clip about spaciously endowed women. Later on in this particular episode the woman in question steals things and hides them you-know-where.

And before the ladies seek me out for a lynching a la Michuki, how about these mamas who bailed out their man in New York. These are are some true ride-or-die chics. I need me a few for my ka-harem. And Forbes Magazine lines up the most powerful women on the planet. Your mother is on there.

Morale.

=====================================

LIVE FROM BROOKLYN ZOO!!

2006-09-04T04:43:00.000-04:00

All links subject to change

Yeah, for those of us Stateside we get Monday off, and all roads lead to Brooklyn in the Rotten Apple as far as I'm concerned. Labor Day is the time to kiss the Summer malaters, although it's like the summer left two weeks ago out here. The Big Caribbean parade in Eastern Parkway is on. Mob parties all over the city, lots of Caribbean artists and bands in town, reggae, soca, calypso, zouk, kompa...overload! Kabisa... black people will be outside!

Brooklyn is the one place I go to and feel like you in cribs again. Wall to wall blackdom in some parts. Check out the disheveled urban landscape you see while you're on Fulton Street or Norstrand Ave during the day and you may be forgiven for thinking you're on Tom Mboya street, except you see no matts and the traffic lights work. The preachers and the beggars are there. You even have to watch out for the stick-up kids, just like home.

Acolyte and a few others decided to desecrate an institution last week, well I guess she did it to herself. I'm talking about those over-bustious flicks of Aretha. Well I'm here to hit you with something different. I don't jua why she spends so much time flaunting her 40 year old frame in hopes of selling records, instead of showing off her 40 year old talent. I miss the old danceaholic, singing some cool ballads no-nip-&-tuck-jobs-having, movie-making with Tupac, non-cleavage flaunting artist. But she's flossing them assets, so you might as well drool.

And she reportedly has an 18 0r 19 year old child too? Airbrushing is a mutha.

Meanwhile another institution, Ron Isley of the Isley Brothers fame, is going to jail for 37 months for tax evasion charges. The Feds don't play. I wish we played the same way with the perps of Goldenberg/Anglo-Leasing/Insert Kenyan corruption scandal here. And he got a mercy bid too. He was initially facing over 25 years.

Speaking of chests, ladies would you rock with this device? It perks them thangs up (***Link is not work safe!!!***). Shall your deceipt know no end?

And Venezuela is going for the throne, the petroleum throne.

Mrembo was talking about racism in Denmark and then I ran across the story of a school bus driver who made all the black kids sit in the back, away from the white kids in Shreveport, Louisiana ( I'm saying though, si it's back-bench that's the cool place to ride in? Americans have it backwards, but I digress). Nine kids piled onto 2 seats. This kicked up a fuss with the parents of the black kids and some civil rights people. The Feds are also doing the obligatory sniff-around.

Bus rides are heavily symbolic of race issues, a la Rosa Parks, to start with, without someone pulling a stunt like this. But my point is, no matter where you are, if you aren't on the right side of the mother continent or off it, you will catch some hate. Stay strong.

Rappers or poets in the house? Pay attention. Elzhi from Slum village is teaching.....

Onward to Brooklyn Zoo for another Labor Day of good music, food and black folks united under the riddims.

===========================

DO YOU WANNA TOUCH THE SKY??...Soar With

2006-08-28T05:02:00.000-04:00

NEW OBAMA BITES!!! (Formerly Peter Dawo Bites)

A delectable delight.

The finest sun-dried Omena, busaa-soaked Simsim, Pearl Omega extract and Sony-grown molasses in the middle.

Coated with the perfect blend of Ivorian Cocoa and Tilapia Oil on the outside.

Guaranteed to boost your IQ by 10% with daily recommended consumption.*

It gives you the runs you say, well run with it.**

Are you a punk or an Omera?

The snack of choice for Footballers, Scientists, Laywers, Benga Bandleaders and Senators.***

*Daily recommended usage: 7 Bars in 13 hours. Statement not validated by Kenya Bureau of Standards, Ministry of Health, Ministry of Education or Gilbert Deya Ministries.

**85% of all consumers report stomach discomfort leading to severe mharo, to which any omera/omeraette will build resistance after a few days of consuming snacks. HIV status reversal to negative also reported by 3.8%.

*** That's right, Jengs all up in this bitch, who wan romp wit' us?

Freeky Furahiday: Part Trez

2006-08-25T02:30:00.000-04:00

Mocha dropped the news first, but spread the word. Download the Watu Wangu Mixtape Vol 2. Presented by Sir Prestige and mixed by the legendary DJ Edu. Watu Wangu is a network of young talented aspiring Kenyan recording artists, producers and DJs based, operating and/or currently residing in the UK. The mixtape features music by Levysill, Nannoma, Wawesh and Tapelli among others.

This weekend I'll pitch in with some pop/r&b/afro artist links with roots in the Mamaland. These are their myspace pages, which have a quick selection of tracks, in some cases downloadable.

Jabali Afrika. They've been keeping their profile high on the world music scene doing the Festival circuit in US and Canada. A new album is on the way.

Shu. Harvard/Oxford trained Rhodes Scholar (and Busherian) who is doing big things independently as singer/songwriter in the R&B/Soul vein. Apparently they love him in Japan. Once Again is my shizzit. He dropped an album last year to warm reviews and also was a Grand Prize winner of The John Lennon Songwriter Award.

Qita. Building buzz on the East Coast. Based in Massachussets (aka New Muranga). Ready For You is as cool as a fan...on a hot Mogadishu afternoon.

Karis. Guitarist out in the West Coast working with Jazz outfit Vega, as well as his own gospelly stuff and session work. He has worked with some interesting folks.

Julia (Kesha). Out in the West Coast dropping some gospel-influenced jewels.

Ida Onyango. The 2006 Kisima Awards Boomba Female artist of the year. Also Cali based.

Miriam Chemoss. Based out of New York. Previously seen in a Levi Commercial. Modelling, theatre, singing etc. Getting it in.

Jaqee. Ugandan based in Sweden. She's involved with kenyan rapper/producer Wawesh through BLaO Ent. Check out The Way you Make me Feel.

Joy Denalane. German Southafrican who just dropped her second album. She worked with notable members of the Philly Soul movement as well as respected US rappers on this one which is in English. The first one I guess was in German and was popular there. Pretty good stuff, although her page dishes out only snippets.

Blackrose. Out in Norway by way of Bongo. Her stuff is techno/electronica.

And Jigga disses Kenya on his world tour.

Morale.

THIS FRIDAY ONLY!!!!

2006-08-24T18:34:00.000-04:00

OBAMA NITE 2006
Our Son in Kissum Siti!!

Aug 25th 2006
8:00 PM till late

@ KONDELE GARDENS BEACH BISTRO

Featuring Performances by:

Princess Jully
D.O. Misiani
Dola Kabarry
Gidi Gidi Maji Maji
Kenge Kenge
Achieng Abura
and more...

All Senator Beer at Half Praiss!!!
Free Ngege appetissa for first 50 patrons.

Our Son Obama has said he won't be theya but we sall have a full portrait of him chilling in the VIP for photo ops.

This event is for the Fantabulous Human Species of Jaluo origin only.
ID check and on-the-spot Jaluo Lingo test will be in effect.

All light-skinned brothas and sistas muss bring bath satifiket and signed affidavits from four true blooded Jaluos validating their authentisiti as Jaluos to gain admission.

500 sillings a head.

Dress to impress. Straw hats are a must.

Watermelons Sneakers & Double Barrels

2006-08-21T17:21:00.000-04:00

Vipi wazeiya, I hope things are cool.

(All links subject to change)

Msanii beat me to the punch a threw up some myspace and other web links to various african hiphoppas y'all should be aware of. Please go visit and enjoy some homegrown rap music. It's a good thing he's on the job. I've been bizzay nikihangaika na kuhustle. I'll still be throwing up links soon but for now Msanii got the goods.

Check out Mocha for a whole selection of videos from k.e and Bongo.

Who would've thought the day would come. NY Knicks star guard Stephon Marbury recently launched his Starbury sneaker line. Doesn't seem like a big deal, all notable athletes drop a shoe or two in their career. Stephon did the unimaginable thing and made his shoes real cheap....like $15.00 cheap. And they were only available at Steve & Barry's sports & apparel stores in New York City. The rush in the city was serious this weekend. They are now selling on eBay for upwards of $50 as sneaker collecters swoop in.

Shaq is the only other hooper that has unleashed a relatively cheap sneaker. Which is the main reason why Shaq is cool in my books. Marbury has said he will be playing in his shoe. Some folks are wondering about the quality of the shoe. There's something Nike doesn't want you to know.... their shoes cost just as much to make as the Starburys except they throw a swoosh or a jumpman on it, spend a grip on advertising and endorsement trying to get you to buy them and demand $180 for a pair.

Don Cheadle is putting in work with serious movies. He is portraying a famous Washington DC area TV & Radio personality and Black activist, the Late Ralph Waldo "Petey" Greene. Check out some rare footage to get a glimpse of the real Petey. He goes on and on about watermelons and about being yourself. Classic. Taraji P. Henson (oooh weee!), Cedric The Entertainer and Vondie Curtis-Hall also star in that flick. Will Smith is also doing another human interest picture out this Christmas, peep the trailer.

To my ladies what would you do with a brutha with this problem? Gives the term threesome a different spin, doesn't it?

Morale.

Freeky Furahiday: part deuce

2006-08-11T17:08:00.000-04:00

So it's been wild in blogville the past few days. More political drama at home with rumors of a snap election, explosives in bottles in the UK, bigotry against a young black man in SA and that dark/light skin vybe.

The current conflict in the Middle East is to some extent a proxy war: US/West behind Israel and Iran/Syria behind Hezbollah. At least that what it looks like. No one is talking about the new superpower on the come-up. China. Makes you wonder if they're just quiet spectators.

Take heart Archer. And please don't fall for that 'I wish I didn't venture outside' mess. So what, like Mobb Deep said a long time ago, it's a war going on outside.

Most of us who creep behind enemy lines (aka you're not in the Jamhuri) have experienced something of the sort. When you ingia a bar and the place goes quiet like when the bad guys stroll into a saloon in a cowboy flick. Then they're double checking ID, they won't let you start a tab and generally wait to pick on something petty to toss you out. Like if a song comes on and someone in the crew seems to be overenjoying himself/herself. Ati you're making the "other" clients "uncomfortable." It's like we missed the "Shhh! Yoga class" sign on the way in.

Well one time a few years ago a friend of mine was tossed down a long flight of stars at a major club in a downtown area for looking at a white bouncer funny. I'm saying, if your kisogo is shaped ka corner ya njugu karanga, and then it's stuck to the body of a buffalo, what do you expect? This is why I prefer rolling deep to nighspots that are not necessarily "black hangouts" because we hopped on that bouncer and rode his ass (no homo) down the stairs after my friend. Sure, there was a disturbing the peace charge involved because this was downtown, there were police everywhere. But at least the message had been sent to Mr. Odiero with 'roid-rage and Black hate, and on some level we had upheld our dignity.

Civil Group actions especially in the States have turned to farces, an opportunity for certain leaders to grab the spotlight. The biggest issue with the NAACP has been that G.W. Bush had been dissing them since 2000 for not showing up to their conventions. Why do they need him to show up so badly? Meanwhile the Voting Act in the US is not permanent. Bush just recently extended the right to vote by another 25 years. How come voting is not an automatic right for ethnic minorities and ex-cons? Meanwhile, there are all kinds of young men shot dead by police under dubious circumstances where I'm at, and their own mothers do more than the NAACP or the Urban League or any other civil groups in the quest for justice. Around here, the Urban League jamaas are known for being big ballers more than anything else.

And as far as the dark skin/light skin definition of beauty I'm going to let that pass for now. Acolyte thanks for spreading the word on the disgrace asian women are put through in the human hair trade.

It's a big Jamaican Parade weekend out here. I will be backstage at the Afro-Caribbean Festival with my bade. And these jamaas too. All work and all play, it's time to promote heavily mitaani and network.

A chill Members day and weekend, au sio?

TV interviews, weaves & gangsters

2006-08-10T10:30:00.000-04:00

So after the heatwaves of a few weeks past, things got popping. August is always a month with mob plot where I'm at. Chalk it up to the Caribbean festivities that heat up all the way into early September. I figure people also realize there is one more month of true sunshine and leisure left, and so go all out to enjoy themselves. The macks come out in full effect. I heard Toronto's Karibana Festival was a blast. I didn't fika, I was at big african picnic. It's always a blessing to go to these things in the summer. All kinds of dressed up (and dressed down) bodacious mamas to keep things exciting.

So they are still warring in Middle East. A lot of what is on TV is carefully crafted propaganda, but check out how George Galloway airs out a SKY News anchor about the whole situation. Hilarious.

Also check out this article that puts more perspective on the current conflict.

To my ladies who feel like having long hair is the only way to look fly, check out what really goes down to those asian women that supply that highly expensive human hair, not that "made in India stuff."

Denzel's new movie, "American Gangster" is based on this jamaa. It's kind of a long read, pole. Forget the movie, we need a book.

Malaterz.

Freeky Furahiday: part wahed

2006-08-04T12:00:00.000-04:00

I Can't Believe I'm Doing This...

A few thangs off the Christina Aguilera Album Back to Basics. (Links subject to disappear)

Part of the album was produced by DJ Premier, one of the greatest hip-hop producers dead or alive (he also produced her current single, Aint No Other Man). Which naturally is why I'm even bothered to seek out these hewas. Under normal circumstances I would be ducking the other way from a Aguilera CD, vidoles in my ears like..."lalalalalala....I can't hear you....."

Premier brings the signature stripped down boom bap sound he's respected for while Miss Dirrty plays second fiddle vizuri. It may be the boldest thing in Pop music this year. I'm curious to see how this album does. I'm not necessarily floored by these tracks but what kind of man would I be if I didn't share.

Anyhoo, enjoy:

Intro (Back to Basics)

Slow Down Baby

Back in the Day

Still Dirrty

A slammin Members Day & Caribana Weekend to you all.

She's Mighty Mighty!! And Some music leaks.

2006-08-01T16:29:00.000-04:00

First....asanteni for the warm words of welcome from kila mtu.

--------------------------------------------------

Big Black Sista Syndrome

http://www.nytimes.com/2006/08/01/business/media/01adco.html?ex=1154664000&en=47477ea69087adf3&ei=5087%0A

A New York Times piece about how the advertising industy in the US has been typecasting the big boned mamas as sassy, aggressive, overbearing, play-no-games Lordesses of Doom. (The link is subject to change)

Of course it is also related to black folk like Tyler Perry, Monique , Martin, Queen Latifah and 'em who create large woman personas (Madea, Big Momma House, Bringing Down the House etc) that become popular and acceptable with both black and non-black audiences. But in the advertising game most of the writers, casting and shooting directors are jungus.

So while as black people we might be enjoying their antics on some "get 'em girl" tip, the rest of them may actually be laughing at the character on some "that crazy black woman" mess that they translate into how they deal with black people. Especially when they run into a big boned sista.

Similar thing in Hollywood where black men are usually typecast as the aggressive goons carrying beef to the nth degree. They don't really have to because that perception is prevalent in regular life without them having to put it out there. Have you ever had a white woman clutch her purse to her chest and cross the street just because you're walking her way? But by the same token, black people are also holding on hard to that gangsta persona and pushing it through their own art and way of life.

Sassy big black women existed before they became advert darlings and so did the thugs. I feel it's a matter of balance. Overrepresentation is the poison. Have the sweater wearing middle class Cosbys and the ghetto Wayans brothers; have sleek Garcelle Beauvais with the plus sized Pine Sol Lady. Mchanganyo.

While it's a issue with a lot of grey areas, it's still something to think about.

-----------------------------------------------------------

Hewas for that ass

Mwafrika & Muki Garang Present The mixtape.
Under advisement that I will tandika y'all with the fierceness of a hungry GSU kurutu, I order you to download it here and listen to it daily for a month straight.

Mwaf is prominent for his work promoting that good kenyan rap music at YFM (which he just left), and setting up the monthly Hip hop Nite. Muki is a poet/rapper/activist doing his thing and they have collaborated to bring you some freestyles and original music. A full review is coming. Niwacheni, I'm still doing my month of listening.....

Msanii has a link to a hiphop Ep for download from some West Coast cats. Straight boom-bap. A lot of political and cultural musing going on on that joint, as well as bashing of a certain Durty Souf movement, lol. There is a very enjoyable Lupe Fiasco remix on there too.

Saigon is one of those being dubbed the New New York, rappers from the Rotten Apple everyone is hoping to bring the East Coast back. Peep another leak. Just Blaze is supervising his album which comes out on Blaze's label, Fort Knox next year. Frankly I'm over rappers lamenting about how bland or horrible other rappers are. We know, the rest of them are foko jembes... sawa. Just unleash some good hewas. Fortunately Saigon goes light on the whining and speaks his piece. (3/5)

Justin Timberlake and Timbaland have a hit on their hands. Last month Jive leaked Sexyback which was horrible to me. On the other hand, My love, is undeniable. As soon as I heard it I imagined Aaliyah on the beat or better yet, Ginuwine. Ginuwine would destroy this. T.I is on the track too, pending clearance from his label. A forgettable verse from him though. I give it a 4/5.

But by the time this gets to radio though I'll be tired of it.

Sorry folks, it's tagged up pretty badly for copy protection but still listen

Timbaland has been talking about doing more pop records and less rap, which I think is his forte anyway. The one pop artist he needs to get with asap is Usher.

You want to check out some Bay Area rap? Check out up and coming Kaz Kyzah. Free mixtape download here. He handles some of those beats decently.

LIVE FROM CARNI, IT'S MUUURDAAHH!!! AND A GOMBA HEIST

2006-07-30T23:52:00.000-04:00

Operation Somalia Express

Ladies and gentlemen, I present the East African Colombians.

According to The Sunday Nation (Sunday July 30), 44 arrests in New york and 18 in Seattle were simultaneously made on July 26 2006 as the FBI moved to smash a miraa smuggling operation they have been monitoring for the past 18 months (code name: Operation Somalia Express). They're saying jamaas were stacking up to $10 mill a year at $900 a kilo. A kilo goes for kshs 700 back home, about $10. The goods were coming over from Europe through couriers on commercial flights in suitcases and also express mail deliveries.

The report didn't specify the nationalities of the arrested folks but it said they were getting their work out of Kenya and Ethiopia, the miraa hotspots.

The Feds also bagged 5 tonnes of miraa during this swoop. They're saying 25 tonnes have come in in recent years.

Miraa contains Cathine and Cathonine which are controlled substances in the US. Ati now they want to follow the money trail back to East Africa and find the real bossmen of the operation. Good luck, lol. But Fed indictments are usually built airtight (the 18 month surveillance is testament) so these dudes they bagged are going to go away for a minute.

I'm thinking if there was an American/European outfit like Del Monte or Nestle that was making mob bakes off miraa export they would have got miraa off that controlled substance list and we could be out here handling biz with a quarter kilo in the front pocket just like we do in the Jiji. But it hasn't happened yet so jamaas are facing up to 20 years apiece for conducting grand hustle.

Is miraa banned in Canada?

I'm saying, miraa was originally goat food, just like coffee beans. Is caffeine a controlled substance? Na zama za kale when coca cola was first on the US market it actually contained cocaine. Well, they didn't know the white like they know it now but still.....

Imagine if miraa became the new thing. White boys with baggy cheeks asking you if you've got some gum, or for a sip of your cocaine free coke....

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The INC in NBI

So Ja Rule got himself in Nairobi and Dar this past weekend (Fri and Sato respectively) for what were probably sold out performances. Apparently dude is still the shizzit overseas, seeing as I've not heard or seen Ja do any shows Stateside in a while. He probably lipishad a premium fee for these performances too and milked the perception that he's still riffing real hard with G-Unit for what it's worth.

This is the first big name rap artist since The Lost Boyz to rock The Robbari. A damn shame. Someone goes and brings in an akata who is more washed up than debris from the Titanic still floating in the North Sea. Face it, if he was still hot he would not have even thought of fikaing. He would probably be too busy shooting some type of movie or flossing new rims on a denali truck at some car show, drunk off the remy. Watch, now that LL Cool J isn't as hot as he used to be, he'll be making these type of trips, and there will be a traffic jam on Langata Road.

One of my partners was at the Crackhouse Studios, New York, the Murder Inc studios, in early April. His report was that Ja is plotting a comeback of sorts with a return to his original gangster swagger of his early Cash Money Clique and Venni, Vetti, Vecci days. So far I've heard a G-Unit diss track and a club banger. The diss track, 21 Gun Salute, was strong enough for me to put on my mixtape which, incidentally, is how G-Unit first heard it (a story for another day). The reasons it made the cut were:

(1).True story, I was probably one of the first DJs in stato with the full track and I may be one of 3 and a half DJs to have even put the track out.
(2). Lloyd Bank's Cake was on the mixtape and I wanted to contrast the two songs and also play on the beef...I know....real original. It came off vizuri though. This was the diss track he should have put out immediately after Fifty chongoad him.

The other track, Get Up is an attempt at a hard club banger. No one has bothered to break this record yet. My partner had been at the session when they cut this track. Actor/ R&B hopeful Jason Weaver (last heard on a Chingy single) sung the hook during that session but the version I've heard doesn't feature a singer.

His whole bubblegum crooning thug steelo that helped generate over 100 mill in revenue still works in some parts of the world. It doesn't on me. I used to kunja my sura everytime I sikiad "What would I do without yoooouuuu...." or such other hot messes on the radio or in the club. I'm going to have to learn to enjoy his new raw persona, and old boy must bring some seriously bangin' tracks. Don't get me wrong, I don't hate the guy, he just made some tasteless TRL/106 & Park hits, and now he has to bring the heat to impress. He will be dropping a mixtape or 2 sometime in the fall. Check for that.

With that said, I'm sure the chic game at Carni on Friday night was wazimu. If you know how much the damage (kshs) was to partake in the festivities, hebu tushow. I'm curious.

Would I have fikad if I was home? No.

Is Jigga headed to Nairobi as part of his planned world tour?

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Harro Harro....

2006-07-28T22:08:00.000-04:00

Niaje, what's goody, asalaam aleikum, walapa! I'm sending a Katyusha rocket to where you at with some love. Can I get a raah, raaah!!

This blog will be for some regular rants, trying to connect with peeps from the Grand Jamhuri, music (and kenyan music) in general, plus I'm trying to find someone to hook me up with some kunde to go with this western hemisphere sembe and mushy nyaks....

Oh yeah, that up there is a cover of a mixtape I dropped earlier in the year. Rugged Street music of the rap or reggae persuasion is something I enjoy. My idea of a romantic evening might include some Wu-tang hewas. Or some Capleton. I mean I've got r&b and soul on lock too but a gutter rap joint or a rude tune is my first inclination. Don't worry ladies, I'm accomodating. I pull out the D'Angelo to keep things easy. It has to be Brown Sugar though, he haribud Voodoo kidogo doing that naked thing.

Anyways, I'm djing, producing, managing some artists here in exile and making some music of my own as you can find out here.

It's Furahiday so you must excuse me as I fanya other things. Enjoy yourselves.

Ningependa kutumeko salamu kem kem to my main man Kama, the boy Kallous, the whole INF, Smalls, Heist Int., my brethren and sisteren doing their thing and you, oh most wonderful reader of the blog. Give yourself more than a pat on the back, kiss yourself...

I keed, I keed.