Then, my mother dug out her old 45 of Aerosmith's "Walk This Way" from 1976, and it was like someone had popped a balloon.
Suddenly, Run-D.M.C.'s whole vibe felt like it had been dreamed up in a boardroom. I remember seeing Darryl "D.M.C." McDaniels being interviewed on MTV, where he repeatedly told the "VJ" that their rock-rap fusion wasn't just some contrived ploy to sell records. He swore they had been rhyming over heavy metal riffs and drum breaks for years in Hollis, Queens. But I wasn't buying it anymore.
A friend gave me a mix tape with "King of Rock" and "You Be Illin'" on it, and I tossed it in the trash.
When the group was inducted into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame by Eminem in 2009, Joseph "Run" Simmons basically admitted that his brother, Def Jam Records chief Russell Simmons, had come up with the whole "let's mix heavy metal and rap" schtick.
Around that same time, I was listening to Pandora at work and a couple of Run-D.M.C. songs came on, back to back. I don't know if it was sheer laziness or latent nostalgia, but I listened to each track all the way through, and by the end of the set I realized something: those guys could spit rhymes. Forget about the gimmicks (including the laceless Adidas); they had skills.
Around that same time, I was listening to Pandora at work and a couple of Run-D.M.C. songs came on, back to back. I don't know if it was sheer laziness or latent nostalgia, but I listened to each track all the way through, and by the end of the set I realized something: those guys could spit rhymes. Forget about the gimmicks (including the laceless Adidas); they had skills.
And it wasn't surprising to me that the song I ended up enjoying most (just like when I was 8) was "Peter Piper," the opening track off Raising Hell (1986). Out of all the songs on that album, it's the only one that doesn't fit the gimmick. There are no blasts of overdriven metal guitar. No obvious attempts to appeal to frat boys and homeboys alike. Just real, raw tag-team rhyming over a nasty drum break, courtesy of Bob James's jazz-funk rendition of "Take Me to the Mardi Gras."
To me, this song is the real bridge between the first and second wave of hip-hop: there's a bit of that party rhyme feel of early Sugar Hill tracks, only it's much more "street." It points the way toward what East Coast hip-hop would become in the late 80s/early 90s.
Simply a classic track.
To me, this song is the real bridge between the first and second wave of hip-hop: there's a bit of that party rhyme feel of early Sugar Hill tracks, only it's much more "street." It points the way toward what East Coast hip-hop would become in the late 80s/early 90s.
Simply a classic track.
No comments:
Post a Comment