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Showing posts with label Brian Coleman. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Brian Coleman. Show all posts

Friday, April 23, 2010

Check The Technique: Brian Coleman Discusses Guru

While trying to organize some tribute pieces for Guru, I asked my main dude Brian Coleman to say a few words for Heavy In The Streets readers. Brian did far more than what was asked of him and wrote an unforgettable tribute for me to share with the world wide web.

For those who don't know, Brian is the author of the indispensable book Check The Technique.

Read below as he breaks down the significance of the one and only Guru.


Hearing about Guru's passing the other day was sad to me on many levels. It made me think back on all the good times that his music brought me over the years. There were a hell of a lot of them, and there will be many more. That's the one and only blessing when any artist passes away - you have their art to keep you company when they have moved on.



I originally had a second paragraph here, which talked about his post-Gang Starr career with Solar, but I erased it. I don't want to dwell on anything negative about Keith Elam, because he made so goddamn much amazing music in his not-long-enough life.



Even if Guru's career had ended ten or fifteen years ago he would still be considered legendary. And he should be considered legendary. Think back to any MC you like right now who hit the scene after 1991 (when the group's first classic, Step in the Arena, hit). They wouldn't be who they were without Guru, I promise you.



I won't write an 37-page essay about why I think Gang Starr was important. I would have preferred to have let Guru and Premier discuss the matter, but to be honest, Guru rejected my request to interview him as part of my Check the Technique book in 2006. I couldn't allow that chapter in the book with just Premier's input, even as much as I worship the man as a producer. And now that Guru is gone, I'm even more saddened because that chapter will never be.



But I digress, and since my man Sorce-1 asked, I'll chime in, because Guru and Gang Starr were important to me, as a person and as a music fan. They were - and should be - important to anyone who claims hip-hop in their life (as opposed to someone who shrugs, "Yeah, I like rap", and then downloads a Soulja Boy album).

Simply put, Guru was a dude who rhymed with intelligence, supreme confidence and - most importantly - two feet on the ground, keeping things balanced with more humility than maybe any so-called brag rapper ever. I didn't always believe that he packed as much heat as he claimed (maybe I was wrong), but that didn't really matter that much. Because it seemed that he never really rhymed to cut people down or just to talk shit or waste his listeners' time. If he was dissing the ever-present but unnamed "wack rappers" it was because he seemed to be pissed, and I was curious why that was.



He also used something that many rappers don't have the brains to enlist - a conversational way of rhyming. Such a basic thing, but so amazingly important. When you hear a verse, you usually feel like Guru is talking to you, AT you, looking you in the eye. That automatically draws you in. "Oh, shit, Guru's really laying it on the line." Sometimes you also got to eavesdrop on conversations he was having ...

"Ex Girl to Next Girl"



or "Take It Personal"



or "Lovesick." Connecting with your audience is so important in the rap game. So many MCs who came before and after Guru just never had that in their toolbox.



In the past couple days I've been having an internal tug-of-war about my favorite Gang Starr album. I used to think it was Step in the Arena. But I think now I have to say Daily Operation. That's because I think that's the album where Guru really started to understand the importance of having conversations with listeners, as if it was his duty. And as an entertainer it, in fact, kinda was.



Premier's beats were amazing before and after Daily Operation, and Guru still spit a great deal of illness after that classic from 1992. But that's when Guru climbed the mountaintop and it seemed that on those cuts he and Premier reached that perfect balance, fueled by a combination of confidence and a desire to still push and stretch the limits of music and words. I even like "The Place Where We Dwell," in fact I LOVE it, even though it pissed me off at the time because I'm from Boston and we all knew Guru wasn't from New York. But I could never argue with the power that the two of them unleashed with a track like that. Mellow, wig-flipping power.


As for my favorite Guru song, I might have to say "The Planet". Because it's a heartfelt story, because he tells it like he's writing in his journal or telling you over a drink at a dive bar after a long day at work. And because he takes a brilliant, slower, gritty Premier beat and he pours himself all over it. If the beat had been different -- faster, busier, with different samples or cuts -- he probably would have told a completely different tale. But he was an artist who fed off music, and luckily he had Premier as chef.


My second favorite might be "Above the Clouds", in part because of the ridiculously good Preemo track and in part because of Inspectah Deck's cameo (Gang Starr pretty much pioneered the practice of putting people on tracks just because they were dope, whether they were known or not.... see Group Home or Jeru the Damaja, among many others, for proof).

But mostly because of Guru's wisdom and way with words, which steps out onto a higher plane than usual, with stunning results:

"Bear in mind
Jewels be the tools of the trade
Sharp blades, heavenly praise
And dues are paid."

Amen to that. Guru, I hope you Rest in Power, we miss you.

-- Brian Coleman



Shout outs to Dig It Out, DJ Premier Blog, Noz, and Upnorthtrips for having some crazy images on their sites that helped me put this post together.

Tuesday, March 24, 2009

Can You Dig It? Vol. 32: Brian Coleman


Name: Brian Coleman

Claim to Fame: I'm the author of Check the Technique: Liner Notes for Hip-Hop Junkies



and Rakim Told Me.



I'm also President of Charles Bronson fan club, the Massachusetts chapter.



Representing: I've been in or around Boston and Cambridge, MA since “Girls I Got Em Locked” hit.



I grew up all over the Northeast, in almost too many spots to name. I will say that I am the rare dude who has legitimate and deep-seated New Jersey Pride.

Years in the Game: I've been collecting wax since about 1974, starting with my Spinners “Rubber Band Man” 45, with unnecessary accumulations starting around 1992.

Best Digging City or Town: Geez, that’s a tough one. Fall River, MA and Providence, RI back in the ‘90s were dope as hell. There weren’t many collectors working the scene back then and they weren’t a long drive for me and my man Tim Haslett (R.I.P.).



Outside of Hartford, CT had some wild spots too. And don’t get me wrong, Boston has always been good to me, but as any digger knows, you need to troll the out-of-the-way spots to really hit the jackpot.

Most Prized Piece of Wax: Probably my copy of Afrika Bambaataa “Death Mix.”



If I had an original copy of Rammelzee vs. K-Rob “Beat Bop”, that’d be my most prized. Dare to dream.



Favorite Album Cover/s: Moondog Moondog



Frank Zappa Hot Rats



Alice Coltrane Journey to Satchidananda



Joy Division Unknown Pleasures



Public Enemy It Takes a Nation of Millions to Hold Us Back



Mantronix The Album



Curtis Mayfield Curtis



Black Flag My War, or any Raymond Pettibon Black Flag cover, for that matter.



Schoolly D Schoolly D (especially back cover)



Dollar Bin Miracle: Disco Dave & The Force of the Five MCs “High Powered Rap”



and Mr. Sweety G “We Want to Get Down”, which are both on Mix Master Mike and Disco Dave Records. They were $.49 each at a spot in Connecticut.

Total Records Owned: Somewhere between 8,000 and 9,000, and maybe 1,200 45s. I haven’t counted in a while and I gave a bunch to the Library of Vinyl Experience (LOVE) a couple years back. I have plenty, I’ll say that.

Best Digging Story: Back at the Roosevelt Hotel in NYC in the ‘90s I had a copy of the Jungle Brothers “Beyond this World” on top of my pile of wax and this dude walked up to me, looked me in the eye, and just tried to grab it.



The weird thing was that he kept looking me in the eye the whole time, with a look like “What? Everything’s cool, just chill, I deserve this record.” After about 30 seconds of our tug-of-war, I just punched the dude in the chest and he let go instantly and walked away very calmly. The weirdest thing to me was that it wasn’t that rare of a record. Maybe that’s why he gave up so easily.

The Roosevelt was pretty intense back in the day, dudes weren’t fucking around and it was a real cut-throat type of scene. I stopped going after a while, because it wasn’t that fun. I was always more of a fan of finding shit in out-of-the-way spots for low-cash. I don’t think I’ve ever paid more than $30 for a record and I’m proud of that. For me, just owning a dope piece of wax isn’t the most important thing, it’s how it got to you.

To find out more about Brian Coleman, visit his MySpace page. For more about his essential books on classic rap records, click here and here.