URTHBOY - NAIVE BRAVADO FT. DANIEL MERRIWEATHER

GEORGIA ANNE MULDROW - SEEDS

DELTRON 3030 - MASTERMIND

Download at : http://www.4shared.com/audio/09n9s0Zc/Deltron_3030_-_Mastermind.htm
Who fuses the music
With no illusions
Producing the blue prints
Clueless?
Automator defy the laws of nature
Electronic monolith throw a jam upon the disc
The futuristic looper with the quickness
Hyperpatudes(?) and hydrogen fusions keep your distance

First we coerce your brain patterns
Colaborate with time consume and reprogram it
I apply the flow cannon
The combo so slamin
Automically reconstruct the old canvas
His logic impress
A hypnotic effect
Ya latin patent you could call it a gift
Man he all in the mix nuclear physicist
Geneticlly taylored every bit of this stimulus

Psyonically bionically forget how you feel
Especially formulated the rest of you fornicated
It takes more to make this
He juggles variables
Unparreled propulsion to carry the load
Nueral surgeon the purest virgin conducting currents
Musical merlin he shines like sterling
Watch the Automator draw laser of a higher intensity
And instantly miss a beat create a symphony

Hey I know now repeat automators an the planet earth
and hes gonna stop the war of the worlds
Deltron Zero is here as well take the cut for real
He told ya all, even dudes as he is truly gifted in the matters of rhythm
Ya you got to give him that
In his infnite wisdom you know you got to get with him

ATTACK OF THE CLONES: HOW LACK OF TOPICAL DIVERSITY IS KILLING HIP HOP AND ITS LISTENERS

Homeboy Sandman  HipHop Artist Posted: 10/03/2012 

I love going into schools and talking with kids. Before making music I taught high school full time. Ironically, students pay infinitely more attention now that I'm a rapper. Class always begins the same way. "What is hip hop? When you think about hip hop, what comes to mind?" I'm good at asking in a tone that suggests I'm curious to hear what their answers are, but I could write them all up on the board without calling on a single student.

"Money!" The class murmurs in agreement.

"Cars. Clothes. Jewelry. Watches." I suggest that that kind of falls under the money umbrella. They agree.

"The streets." I play dumb to flush this answer out. "What do you mean the streets? Do you mean like, concrete? Driving directions?"

They laugh, then correct me. "No. Street stuff. Ghetto stuff. Drugs. Crime. Shooting people."

I thank them for the clarification, and ask if there's anything else. Everyone knows what the last answer is, but depending on the grade, it may take some cajoling on my end to get a student over the embarrassment of blurting it out.

"Sex!" And the room erupts in laughter.

If my opening question were asked to 100 people on an episode of Family Feud, it would be pretty easy to sweep the board. To the casual listener (or the avid listener obsessed with what is most popular), hip hop has become pretty much devoid of topical diversity. Moreso than ever the genre is defined not by sound or musical composition, but by the actual content being covered. Simply put, certain subjects are seen as way more "hip hop," than others.

But it wasn't always that way. Themes like sex and violence have always existed in hip hop, but as a child my first deep connection to the art form came in 1987, when I first heard DJ Jazzy Jeff and The Fresh Prince's "Parent's Just Don't Understand." Only seven years old, I couldn't relate to L.L.Cool J and Big Daddy Kanes' harems of door knocker clad women, or Kool G Raps tales of shooting people in the belly just to watch them bleed. But when I found out that a famous rapper hated discount department store school shopping as much as I did, I was hooked. Children are bright shining balls of insecurity, craving validation at every turn. Here was a famous rapper, clearly deemed "cool" by societal standards, who shared something in common with me. I must be pretty cool too I thought. Good feeling.

Who knows what would have become of me had I grown up in an era where my idols, the preeminent examples for success from communities like mine, limited their content to the four or five themes that dominate today's hip hop landscape. Unable to identify with someone "cool" who was like me, I would have been left with no choice but to alter my behavior to fall in line with one of them. But instead I had options. With the way I looked at myself. And they way I looked at the world.

KRS-One questioned the health benefits of red meat on "Beef," and at the age of 10 I learned that you didn't have to eat what everyone else eats. What everyone else eats might even be bad for you. Which of course gave rise to the idea that the correctness of something should never be judged on whether everybody does it.

Older, but still very impressionable (perhaps we're all very impressionable until we're dead?) I remember my first time hearing Mos Def's "New World Water." Listening to Mighty Mos break down the commercialization of earth's most precious natural resource stopped me dead in my tracks. Changed the way I looked not only at everything that was for sale, but at the abundance that we take for granted in the United States that is absolute luxury in other parts of the world. Here was a hip hop song that actually made me a wiser, more compassionate, and well rounded person.

Topical diversity was never limited to health and wellness or global politics though. Between KRS-One and Mos Def's releases, GZA released "Labels," where he somehow managed to fashion the names of all of the major record labels into a coherent story who's moral was to watch what dotted lines you sign on. Ten years later DANGERDOOM actually released a song about vats of urine (understandably titled "Vats of Urine.") Despite being grossed out, the creativity of the subject matter instead made it a fan favorite. No one was put off my any of these records because they weren't covering the same old topics. On the contrary, breaking new ground while still managing to make undeniably dope hip hop made these artists accomplishments all the more impressive.

I myself have always tried to break from convention with regards to what it is I'm rhyming about. My second album's "Mambo Tail Tale" is a story of having to learn to mambo on the fly to get the girl. My latest release includes "Not Really," a song about how being well known for being yourself it's much different from being yourself when no one's looking. It's arguably my most well received single to date.

However, these songs aren't perceived the way that they would have been had I released them 20 or even 10 years ago. They're not looked at as regular hip hop songs today. They're looked at as different. They're labeled "conscious," "quirky." As if they are something different from default hip hop. Sadly enough, they are, but the truth is that my uniqueness and individuality make for my greatest weapon. That people know that they're going to hear something different when they listen to me is what allows me to thrive despite inclusion in a genre driven on big budgets and publicity machines that I've never had.

What's more, whenever higher profile acts stray from the what's become the stereotypical paradigm, they enjoy greater success too. Kanye West's career would not have had the foundation to go where it's gone today without "Jesus Walks." At the forefront of every conversation that I've had about Nas' latest release, is praise for "Daughters," the single about how challenging it is to raise a daughter in today's hip hop society, where he actually questions and criticizes the ideals of the culture he's played such a prominent role in creating. It's tough for him watching his daughter act lewd and date guys that think that life is all about the things that people rap about today, and he openly admits it.

Despite being a rapper I'm not the most tuned in to what's considered "current" in today's hip hop. On the morning of September 19th I tuned in to Hot 97 via the Internet from a hotel room in Birmingham, Alabama, for a random sampling of what people listening to the most famous hip hop station in the world are hearing today. The first rap song I heard was French Montana's "Pop That," an ode to clubbing, money, cars, drugs, and jewelery. I realized that I was going to have to take breaks during my listening session for my own mental health, so I started writing down the times they were aired. I tuned back in at 10:42 and heard Busta Rhymes' "King Tut." It too was all about about money, alchohol, jewelery, watches, cars, and sex. So was 2 Chainz's "No Lie," at 11:11 (with a bit more murder and violance sprinkled in), and DJ Khaled's "All I Do Is Win" at 11:21. I vowed to listen to five songs to inform me better towards writing this piece. The only one that wasn't a rap song was Rihanna's "Man Down," which most people will tell you is a metaphor for breaking a man's heart. There's no mention of any love or romance within the song though. "Pull the trigger," and "I'm a Criminal," are chanted hypnotically throughout the song.

I've had the honor of becoming friends with Crazy Legs of Rocksteady Crew, the legendary breakdancing crew that was featured so prominently in early hip hop movies like Style Wars and Wild Style. A conversation that I had with him about hip hop's birth (which he was there for in person in the 70s in the South Bronx) helped me formulate my theory about why hip hop has become the most popular musical genre among youth in the entire world, to where Rio de Janiero is denser with graffiti than Queens, and kids in the Czech Republic wear baseball caps and call each other niggers. It's because somehow all those broke South Bronx kids captured the essence of cool. The spirit of it. Couldn't be cool because of money, everyone was broke. Couldn't be cool because of where you lived, everyone was in the slums. Couldn't feel good about yourself because of your school because schools were a nightmare, or even because of your family as families in the South Bronx in the 1970 were plagued with every societal ill that society has to offer. But if you were an athlete, you could be a bboy. If you had some charisma, you could be an emcee. If you were artistic, you could be a graffiti writer. This was the inception of hip hop. Being cool without anything. Without being any certain type of person. Being cool only because of your talent.

Thirty five years later mainstream hip hop has come 180 degrees. Hip hop is no longer an arena where you can be cool without anything but being yourself. Where you're free to rap about what you want, paint what you want, or dance how you want as long as you do it well. According to the gospel of hip hop you become cool today by having certain things and behaving a certain way. The same things. The same way. Talent, creativity, innovation, indeed musicality itself, are all afterthoughts, if they have the good fortune to be thought of at all.

While alcohol and technology and car brands that advertise through hip hop are raking in the dough, kids in classrooms in New York and New Jersey and across the country are paying the price. They can only think about certain things. They can't be creative. They're ridiculed for breaking rank. For thinking freely. For being different. The heroes of their culture all appear to be the same person, and at these students vulnerable, insecure age, nothing could be more important to them than becoming that person too. A lot of them are going to ruin their lives beyond repair going for it.

English teachers in urban New York City schools are too concerned with getting students up to 6th grade reading level to teach Orwell's 1984, where culture is prophetically whittled down until entire languages consist of merely hundreds of words limiting peoples abilities to think. Young people today get the majority of their knowledge today from the media they consume, and fans of hip hop just can't fathom the idea that it might all of the uniformity might be part of a ploy carried out by gigantic corperations seeking to turn everyone into mindless consuming drones. Of course they can't. They've never heard Deltron 3030.
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/homeboy-sandman/hip-hop-diversity-music-_b_1935556.html

JJ DOOM GUV'NOR

J.COLE-THE CURE

SIR WINE FT KEESE COBAIN - KILL BILL [PROD BY. SO BEE]

SLUM VILLAGE - FALL IN LOVE

DAFT PUNK - AERODYNAMIC JAY DEE REMIX

INTERVIEW: PEANUT BUTTER WOLF SPEAKS ON THE STATUS OF NEW J DILLA RELEASES

BY ANDREW BARBER | FEB 8, 2012 |

First meeting in the mid ’90s through legendary Detroit fixture, DJ HouseShoes, J Dilla and Peanut Butter Wolfimmediately hit it off, finding common ground in their love of R&B, soul, jazz, and dusty record digging.

The two didn’t reconnect until the turn of the century, when by chance, Dilla heard a mixtape featuring the Cali MC, Madlib, rapping over his own instrumentals. Dilla loved what he heard and placed a call to the label behind it,Stones Throw Records, the upstart independent label founded by Peanut Butter Wolf.

While Dilla’s sound was unmistakably underground, he had many powerful friends who were successful major label artists. Janet Jackson and Busta Rhymes sold units by the boatload, while contemporaries The Roots and Common moved more modest numbers, but remain on major labels to this day. After a failed attempt at joining his peers in the major label game (MCA shelved his album in the early-aughts), Dilla high-tailed it to the greener pastures of indie land.

He soon joined the Stones Throw family, releasing Champion Sound, a groundbreaking and highly influential collaborative album with Madlib, in 2003. Dilla went on to have a successful—if brief—indie career, releasing two more albums with the label before his untimely death, and two more posthumously.

Six years after Dilla’s passing (peep The 50 Best J Dilla Songs here), rumors continue to swirl that all of the tangled issues surrounding his estate have been rectified, and that his fans may finally get a chance to enjoy a stable of unheard beats and his never-released MCA album, reportedly titled Pay Jay. 

 

The MCA album was tough because there were so many different producers. He had everyone doing beats on it: Kanye, Madlib. It was kind of a who’s who.

 

In this exclusive interview with Complex, Stones Throw founder Peanut Butter Wolf clarifies these rumors, talks about the status of Dilla’s unreleased music, shares some rare photos from his personal archive, and hints at a follow up to Dilla’s classic instrumental album Donuts.

Interview by Andrew Barber (@FakeShoreDrive)

We’ve heard that Dilla’s messy estate issues have been cleared up, and you may soon get the green light to sell his beats for new projects. Is this true?

I haven’t spoken to Ma Dukes in a couple of months, and I need to follow up on all of that. Everything with him just happened so fast. He got sick and then he passed away. We were working on a few Stones Throw projects right before he passed, and I told him let’s sell some beats in the meantime.

He got really sick, so it didn’t go down as we expected. I need to speak with Ma Dukes about all of that, because I haven’t been following the ongoings of his estate all that closely.

Basically, his Mom heard me and Dilla talk about putting out Ruff Draft and the MCA album [rumored to be titledPay Jay]. After he passed away, maybe six months or so later, she talked to us about putting out Ruff Draft, and then the MCA album. The MCA album was tough because there were so many different producers. He had everyone doing beats on it: Kanye, Madlib. It was kind of a who’s who. That’s initially how Madlib starting working with him, actually.

Recently she told me that if they ever put the MCA album out, they’d do it through Stones Throw. I haven’t really talked to her about the estate stuff in like two or three months. Last time I saw her was when she came by the office to grab some T-shirts and stuff and hang out for a bit. I’m kind of in the dark about it myself.

So there are plans to release his shelved MCA album from 2003?

We’ve always talked about doing it. I’ve talked to Ma Dukes about it. I don’t know. It would be great to put it out at some point. There are a lot of unfinished songs, like one where he shouts out Snoop Dogg, and Snoop was supposed to kick a verse but it never happened. If Stones Throw were to get clearance to release it, we’d get everyone who was involved, like Snoop, to help finish it.

Didn’t most of these songs leak to the Internet?

Most if it did, yeah, but it wasn’t finished. 

Who actually owns the rights to that project?

I don’t know who owns it. Stones Throw definitely does not own it. It was something that was always an issue. MCA has no plans to ever put it out, so someone else needs to.

 

There are a lot of unfinished songs, like one where he shouts out Snoop Dogg, and Snoop was supposed to kick a verse but it never happened. If Stones Throw were to get clearance to release it, we’d get everyone who was involved, like Snoop, to help finish it.

 

Does Stones Throw have plans to release any more Dilla projects?

We always talked about releasing—and we wouldn’t call it this—but a Donuts part two.

Dilla’s beat tapes always had these great titles, named after unhealthy food that he wasn’t allowed to eat. The doctors would always tell him that he couldn’t have Burger King, he couldn’t eat this, he couldn’t eat that. So he always named his beat tapes based around that. He had one that was really great that’s still unreleased called The Pizza Man—and we always wanted to do something with it.

It comes down to Ma Dukes, though. She makes all of the decisions, so it would have to come from her. She was with him in his final days and was sleeping on a cot in his room. She took care of him so much. If I was ever presented with doing something that would upset her, I just wouldn’t do it.

So how do you feel about rappers using his beats without paying his estate? Plenty of his unreleased beats have been used and abused for mixtapes and whatnot.

I mean, I don’t really want to say too much about that. Madlib did a whole album of that while Dilla was alive, before they ever worked together. That’s how they came together. Dilla reached out to us after he heard it, like, “What’s up man, we should do a real album together. Make it official.” If Madlib would’ve never done that, then we may have never met Dilla or worked with him.

 

Dilla’s beat tapes always had these great titles, named after unhealthy food that he wasn’t allowed to eat. The doctors would always tell him that he couldn’t have Burger King, he couldn’t eat this, he couldn’t eat that... He had one [beat tape] that was really great that’s still unreleased calledThe Pizza Man.

 

That’s a weird thing for me. I don’t want to criticize people for doing it, but sometimes it can get a little corny. With all of the tribute stuff, I kind of avoid it for the most part. I’m actually doing his birthday party tribute on Tuesday (February 7), which is a video tribute—which is something I’ve never done. I haven’t ever done a video tribute for him, so I was up for that. But I don’t ever aggressively seek out doing Dilla gigs, because sometimes it just gets self-serving.

Do you ever grow tired of having to answer Dilla questions?

I don’t really talk about it that much, but I also don’t get asked about him that much. I was more behind-the-scenes. We were just friends who liked to go record shopping. Like the first time he called to ask me to go record shopping with him, I hung up the phone like, “I just got a call from God.” That’s how I felt. I feel the same way with Madlib. Those two guys together are the best producers ever, period—hip-hop, R&B, any kind of music. They are the best.

Does Dilla still have a lot of unreleased beats floating around?

Yes. J Rocc has everything. J Rocc is the absolute authority on everything J Dilla. I have a lot of stuff, and definitely more than most people. I get calls from other DJs all the time to give them stuff, because they get asked to do a Dilla tribute or whatever. I definitely have a lot of stuff. Madlib and J Rocc have the most, though.

So there’s plenty of material for a Donuts part two?

Oh yeah, definitely. That’s the frustrating thing—Dilla wanted to put out more material. He would always tell us how much he loved Stones Throw. He couldn’t believe we’d do videos for him and everything. Typically indie labels wouldn’t spend any money or do videos, but we were constantly creating.

I never even thought a guy like Dilla would want a video—I thought I was overstepping my boundaries to ask him to do a video. He was always at everyone else’s video shoots, like MED and Oh No. And these were all kind of unknown MCs at the time, and Dilla was right there with them, supporting and uplifting them.

 

Dilla wanted to put out more material. He would always tell us how much he loved Stones Throw. He couldn’t believe we’d do videos for him and everything. Typically indie labels wouldn’t spend any money or do videos, but we were constantly creating.

 

Actually, the Donuts album cover we used is from a photo from the MED video shoot. We took the still from the video because we didn’t really have any other pictures of him that were as good as that. [Click above to see the original Donuts demo submitted by Dilla.]

What about another Jaylib project? I’m sure Madlib could get on some of those old Dilla beats.

Well, there were Jaylib remixes that we could put out. But we’d never do another Jaylib without Dilla here. I’ve always had weird feelings about changing stuff after somebody passes away. I was in a group with an MC named Charizma in ’91, ’92, ’93. He was gunned down when he was 20 years old. Eventually I put out his album because I promised him I would. But I have no interest in doing remixes or changing things. I just felt weird about it.

Everyone has their own feelings about that, and what the right thing to do is. If you know someone well enough you can kind of guess the best way to honor their legacy, but it’s always a tricky thing. Technically it could be put together, but I personally have no interest in doing it.

And that’s why we kind of fell back after Donuts. Donuts was such a huge success and we could’ve put out The Pizza Man right after it, and capitalized on it monetarily, but I felt kind of strange about it. It was just wrong in my eyes. I’ve always battled with that.

What are some of your favorite memories of Dilla?

I started working with Dilla in ’95, through DJ Houseshoes. Houseshoes was always talking about Dilla, and I probably first heard of him around ’94—he was still Jay Dee at the time. Houseshoes would just talk about “Jay Dee, Jay Dee, Jay Dee.” I wanted to put out a record with him overseas, and we did a bootleg type of record with all of these remixes on it and this was before he’d blown up.

 

When I first started speaking with him again in the early 2000s, he had us out to Detroit. He picked us up and took us to the strip club and all around the city. He just showed us a great time. I felt like he was this big star, but he was treating us as the stars.

 

At that time he wasn’t a big enough name, so a lot of the labels passed on him—they’d just go with a bigger name or a bigger producer. But by the time he started working with Stones Throw in the early 2000s, he had blown up. He had done all the Tribe and Pharcyde stuff, The Roots were messing with him; he was doing it.

He didn’t care about going to the Grammys when he was nominated or anything—that’s just not the type of guy he was. And I feel the same way about Madlib. They just remind me so much of each other.

When I first started speaking with him again in the early 2000s, he had us out to Detroit. He picked us up and took us to the strip club and all around the city. He just showed us a great time. I felt like he was this big star, but he was treating us as the stars. That’s what I always remember about him.