Purple Reign

G-Stack and V-White of East Oakland's Delinquents drop some very unhyphy solo projects as they contemplate a final album together

By Garrett Caples
San Franciso Bay Guardian February 14, 2007

I first heard the Delinquents in 1999, when "That Man!" was in heavy rotation on KMEL. Its subject matter — caring for the kids while the wifey's out cheating — was unique in gangsta rap. "We came from the left with that," G-Stack says, yet the freshness of the concept, combined with a funky Mike D beat and memorable Harm hook, made it an instant classic. By then their 1999 album, Bosses Will Be Bosses (Dank or Die) was six months old, and they already had a storied past.

Part of the Bay's early '90s independent scene, building a buzz from the ground up, G-Stack and V-White dropped their debut, the cassette-only Insane, circa 1993, on their label, Dank or Die. After a pair of 1995 EPs — The Alleyway and Outta Control (both Dank or Die) — the Delinquents signed to Priority at the same time the imprint inked its distribution deal with Master P's then-Richmond-based No Limit Records. Yet during the promotional campaign for the 1997 full-length Big Moves, the duo learned the difference between being on Priority and being a priority.

"This was when 'I'm 'bout It, 'bout It' blew up for Master P," a relaxed Stack recalls at the East Oakland studio where he's completing G-Stack Presents: Welcome 2 Purple City (4TheStreets), due March 27. "We promoting our album down south, West Coast, Midwest. Down south everything halted. We going into stores, they got huge Master P displays, and they didn't even know we was coming out." The effect of this tepid label support, moreover, was compounded by backlash from their home audience, who equated independence with authenticity.

"At that time," Stack explains, "if you signed to a big label, people thought you weren't real anymore. That affected our underground fan base. Then Priority didn't support us. So we went back independent with Bosses, and our fans started messing with us again."

"Now we got a record buzzin' on the streets. And radio wouldn't support us, so a lot of local rappers started meeting, and everybody went up to KMEL. Nobody had a record at the time, and ours was doing good, so everybody pushed our record." He reviews the memory with satisfaction. "We kinda forced them to play it."

While the success of "That Man!" helped move 65,000 copies of Bosses, radio play was short-lived, because Clear Channel–owned KMEL had stopped playing local music. Yet even during the Bay's leanest hip-hop years from 2000 to '03, the Delinquents maintained a loyal following, selling out shows, moving units, and putting new talent on, as well as throwing the free Lake Berryessa Bash — something like a sideshow on Jet Skis — for thousands of fans every couple years. "They were the crazy glue of the town," says Dotrix 4000, who, as half of Tha Mekanix, produced several hot tracks on Purple City. "They held the scene together when it could've fell apart."

While the Delinquents have never lost their iconic status in the Bay — witness Stack's representation of East Oakland on Mistah FAB's geographical hit "N.E.W. Oakland" — they have strikingly chosen to pursue solo careers right as the region's commercial fortunes are on the rise. Both rappers insist the decision has nothing to do with aesthetics or personal differences, and this is apparent from the warm vibe when V-White arrives for the photo shoot. Promoting his just-released Perfect Timin' (V-White Ent./SMC), V explains the move as a way to stay original in what they see as an increasingly contentless hyphy movement.

"Chuck E. Cheese music," V says. "When I came up, the Bay was about game-spitters, cats with swagger. Now it's, like, make up a word — do something stupid. That ain't where I'm coming from. I'm with the reality rap, from them days when you rapped about what you was going through."

Stack is similarly defiant: "Our machine wasn't built on what radio did for us. Now it's hella different. If you independent, people think you're weak. You need the radio to support you. I don't like how it is now — I don't kiss ass."

"I don't have to make music the radio gotta play," V concludes. "I'm making music from my heart." Judging from Timin' — a 27-track opus largely produced by protégé Big Zeke, spiked with hitworthy tracks by E-A-SKI and an intriguingly nonhyphy Traxamillion — V has a big heart, punctuating his tales of street crime with more personal memories, such as his daughter catching her first fish.

Stack meanwhile is using Purple City to introduce his own young crew, the Heem Team, as well as his alter ego, Purple Mane, who's something like a dope-slinging superhero. A warm-up for Purple Hood, Stack's proper solo debut, slated for July, Purple City began as a mixtape but morphed into a formidable album, including all-original beats by the likes of Tone Capone, FAB associate Rob-E, and Stack's in-house team Sir Rich and Q. (For the record, the Delinquents were on the purple aesthetic — stemming from a variety of weed popular in Oakland — by the time of their 2003 mixtape, The Purple Project, a year before Big Boi and Dipset adopted it.)

The solo careers of V and Stack raise the question of what will happen to the Delinquents as a group. Both confirm a new album is on the table — most likely the final Delinquents project.

"We've been rapping since '93," V says. "If I'm doing the same thing I was doing in '93, that means I ain't grew none. We're just getting older."

"I feel very comfortable doing the last Delinquents album," Stack adds. "I can actually feel like I've completed it."

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Ruling party -- Rising hip-hop star J-Stalin morphs from d-boy to Go Boy

by Garrett Caples
San Francisco Bay Guardian April 26, 2006


J-Stalin knows how to make an entrance.

The first time we meet, in November 2004 at the Mekanix's recording studio in East Oakland, he enters nonchalantly, sporting an embroidered eye mask as though it were everyday wear. He walks up to me and shakes my hand. "I'm J-Stalin. I write and record two songs a day," he says with boyish pride.

I had a hard time retaining the notion the rapper wasn't a boy, for though he'd recently turned 21, his five-foot frame and preternatural baby face gave the impression of a raspy-voiced, blunt-puffing, Henny-swilling 14-year-old.

Yet he already had a storied past. A teen crack dealer, or "d-boy," from West Oakland's Cypress Village, Stalin was busted at age 17, spending the next 11 months on parole with weekends in juvenile hall. During this period, to both stave off boredom and possibly escape the multigenerational cycle of dope-dealing in his family, the young Jovan Smith began writing raps, finding out about the other Stalin in 11th-grade history class, and soaking up game at the Grill in Emeryville, where family friend DJ Daryl had a recording studio.

After letting him watch for a year, Daryl put Stalin on a track — the result so impressed Daryl's frequent collaborator, Bay Area legend Richie Rich, he immediately commissioned a hook. Stalin would end up on three cuts on Rich's Nixon Pryor Roundtree (Ten-Six, 2002) and on two as a member of the Replacement Killers, a group that included Rich and Crestside Vallejo's PSD. Several more songs from this period had just surfaced on Rich's 2004 compilation, Snatches, Grabs, and Takes (Ten-Six), though Stalin had since defected to the Mekanix's production company, Zoo Entertainment. By the time we met, the highly productive crew had recorded most of Stalin's upcoming debut, On Behalf of Tha Streets.

He's next

During the next 18 months, J-Stalin would generate no small amount of buzz, thanks in part to high-profile guest shots on projects like the Jacka's The Jack Artist (Artist, 2005) and the Delinquents' Have Money Have Heart (Dank or Die, 2005). Three advance tracks from On Behalf — "Party Jumpin’," featuring Jacka; a clean version of "Fuck You"; and an homage to the classic drum machine, "My 808" — have accumulated spins on KMEL, while the video for "My 808" has more than 20,000 plays on Youtube.com. Too $hort says he's "next," E-40's dubbed him "the future," and major labels like Capitol and Universal are checking him hard.

To crown these achievements, Stalin's copped a coveted spot hosting an upcoming project for the Bay Area's mix-tape kings, DJ Devro and Impereal, alias the Demolition Men (see sidebar).
Named after Stalin's penchant for calling the DJs at 7 a.m., ready to lay verses, The Early Morning Shift is a potent fusion of mix tape beats and Mekanix originals, laced with Stalin's melodic raps and distinctively raw, R&B-style vocals. Taking advantage of the industry's current structure, whereby you can drop a mix tape or two without compromising your "debut" album marketability, The Early Morning Shift will be most listeners' first chance to hear the prolific J-Stalin at length, in the company of stars like Keak, F.A.B., and the Team, as well as Stalin's Cypress Village crew, Livewire. Having generated some 60 tracks in the scant two weeks devoted to recording the disc, Stalin has literally given the Demolition Men more than they can handle: Talk of a "part two" is already in the air, though the DJs are still rushing to finish the first for an early-May release.

The Early Morning Shift comes at a pivotal time in J-Stalin's career. At the very least, the mix tape will warm up the Bay for On Behalf, which Zoo Entertainment plans to release independently in the next few months. With everywhere from Rolling Stone to USA Today catching on to the Bay's hyphy/thizz culture, and major labels lurking in the wings, it's probably only a matter of time before Stalin gets a deal. But the rapper is adamant on signing only as part of the Mekanix's Zoo.

"We don't want an artist deal," he says. "If they give us a label deal, it'll work, because I ain't fittin' to sign no artist deal."

If this sounds a tad dictatorial in the mouth of so young a playa, consider that Stalin left a famous rapper's camp to work with a then-unknown production duo, a decision fraught with risk. But Stalin's instincts regarding his own artistic strengths are sound. He thrives on quantity, and the Mekanix's intense productivity suits Stalin's seemingly endless supply of rhymes and hooks. The duo's ominous, minor-key soundscapes provide perfect vehicles for the rapper's exuberant tales of West Oakland street hustle and melancholy, often poignant reflections on d-boy life.

"I used to listen to their beats," Stalin recalls, "and be like, 'Damn, them niggas got heat!' Plus they ain't no haters. I mean, I'm a leader; I ain't no follower. They allow me to still be me and fuck with them at the same time."

A few months ago I had a chance to watch this process in action, dropping by the studio as Dot and Tweed were putting the finishing touches on a hot new beat, one in tune with current hyphy trends yet retaining the dark urgency characteristic of the Mekanix sound.

"Let me get on it," Stalin says, as he usually does when he hears something he likes.

Sometimes Dot says yes, sometimes no, depending on their plans for a particular session. With a beat this fresh and radio-ready, one they could easily sell, Dot is noncommittal: "What you got for it?"

Without a pause Stalin breaks into a melody, accompanied by an impromptu dance: "That's my name / Don't wear it out, wear it out, wear it out ..." Simple, catchy, the phrase totally works, and in less time than it takes to tell, he's in the booth laying down what promises to be the main single from On Behalf: "That's My Name."

Sitting behind the mixing board, Dot shoots me a smile, as if to say, "See why we work with this guy?"

On the Go Movement

With The Early Morning Shift about to drop, and On Behalf on the way, the only thing Stalin needs is his own catchword, à la hyphy or thizz. Enter the Go movement. Among recent innovations in Bay Area hip-hop slang is a certain use of the word go to indicate a kind of dynamic state of being, widely attributed to Stalin.

"I ain't sayin' I made it up, but somebody from West Oakland did," Stalin says. "Even before there was hella songs talkin' about Go and shit, that shit came from ecstasy pills. We used to say, 'Goddamn, you motherfuckers go.' And then you refer to a female like, 'She go.' I swear it used to just be me and my niggas in the hood. I started fuckin' with the Mekanix and sayin' it at they place. Then, before I knew it, everybody was talking about Go."

Like thizz, Go quickly expanded beyond its drug-related origins, partly because it epitomizes so well the fast-paced environment of rappers' lifestyles. Among the early cosigners of the Go movement is the Team, whose album World Premiere (Moedoe) dropped at the beginning of April. Not only did the group release a between-album mix tape and DVD called Go Music (Siccness.net, 2005), but Team member Kaz Kyzah has hooked up with Stalin and the Mekanix for a side project called the Go Boyz. First previewed on Go Music, on a track also featuring Mistah F.A.B., the Go Boyz have already recorded their self-titled debut, and Zoo is in talks with Moedoe about an eventual corelease.

"Where I'm from, we don't say, 'Go stupid.' 'Go dumb.' We just go," Kaz Kyzah says, explaining the term's appeal.

"Really, it's a way of life for us," he continues. "Me, Stalin, Dot, and Tweed, we'd be up all night just goin'. Every song was recorded at like four in the morning. Listening to some of the stuff now, you can feel it in the music."

Getting in early

Since I began this piece, Stalin, it seems, has gotten even bigger, as word of The Early Morning Shift and the Go Boyz has spread through the scene. People are suddenly lining up to work with him, and he's already committed to new projects with DJ Fresh, Beeda Weeda, the Gorilla Pits, and J-Nash, an R&B singer featured on Mistah F.A.B.'s upcoming Yellow Bus Driver. In a late-breaking development, E-40 confirms he intends to sign the Stalin/Beeda Weeda duo project to Sick Wid It Records.

During our interview, Stalin and I run by DJ Fresh's studio so J can lay a rhyme for an upcoming installment of Fresh's mix tape series, The Tonite Show. Another rapper, watching Stalin pull a verse out of thin air four bars at a time, is clearly awed: "He's amazing. I mean, he's on the records I buy."

Stalin takes it all in stride, though; aside from when I've watched him perform live, this is the first time I've ever seen someone react to him like he was a star. I get the feeling, however, it's far from the last.


J-Stalin
Fri/28, 10 p.m. doors
Club Rawhide
280 Seventh St., SF
$20
(415) 621-1197
myspace.com/jstalinofficialpage

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Esinchill cuts

by Garrett Caples
San Francisco Bay Guardian October 26, 2005

Also performing with Digital Underground Oct. 28 at the Red Devil are Esinchill and King Beef. A relentless freestyler, inventive writer, and habitual stage-diver, Esinchill has one of the tightest flows in the Bay, and if he remains Oakland's best-kept secret, it's due to lack of exposure. After a show-stealing debut on DU's Who Got the Gravy? (Jake, 1998) and extensive touring with the group, E only made a handful of guest appearances, on discs by DJ Quik, the Delinquents, and so forth, before dropping the hard-to-find Everything to Lose! (Rceason, 2002). Displaying an unexpected metaphysical streak, as well as harrowing tales of a mysterious childhood illness, Everything is an astonishingly assured album showcasing E's versatility and eagerness to expand his range.

Having secured distribution for his Rceason label, Esinchill teamed up with childhood pal King Beef for Choice Cuts, Volume One, whose advance single – the Touré-produced "Hip Hop" – began generating a buzz with East Coast radio play earlier this year. Self-designated "hip-hop mood music," Choice Cuts is a frank genre workout of club/party songs that is less ambitious than its predecessor yet in many ways more accomplished. Much credit goes to the duo's main collaborator, Reno's C-Dash, who produced 11 of its 15 tracks, providing a unity of mood absent from so many rap albums. Dash's music is a dense mixture of synthetic and organic sounds with heavy R&B leanings – so crucial is he to the project that he warrants the rare hip-hop instrumental, which fits seamlessly into the album's flow.

As performers, Esinchill and King Beef display the deep rapport of classic rap duos, egging each other on to further audacity. Smooth-voiced and heavyset, Beef makes a perfect verbal and visual foil for E's rapid-fire staccato flow and compact frame. Sharing a disdain for rap's overreliance on guns, crack, hos, and bling, E and Beef concoct distinctive songs that should give less-adventurous lyricists pause. Their material is also untainted by the misogyny endemic to rap – they might joke about the perils of hooking up with the unattractive on a song like "Wing Man," but for the most part they adopt the Romeo approach, if only out of romantic self-interest. "It's just my attitude and gratitude and respect to a queen, and when respect exudes, then great sex ensues," E raps on "Mojo."

With a second single, "If You Want It," on the way, Esinchill and Beef are busy promoting Choice Cuts, as well as working in the studio on E's next solo album, Vigilantism, and Beef's first, The Swing Party, both tentatively slated for release next year on Rceason. Also look for Esinchill to appear on several cuts off Caliban, the long-awaited solo album from Numskull of the Luniz.

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Say 'Bay' -- Behind the New Bay sound of local hip-hop: NorCal producers

by Garrett Caples
San Francisco Bay Guardian July 6, 2005

'WHAT AM I – Old Bay?" a sardonic Tone Capone says, digging up some 3X Krazy tracks on his computer. One of the main architects of the Bay Area's classic midtempo mid-1990s mob music, the North Oakland native Anthony Gilmour, a.k.a. Tone Capone, is perhaps best known as the producer of the Luniz's 1995 weed anthem, "I Got Five on It," the second-most-requested track in KMEL history. Tone was instrumental in launching the solo career of the Geto Boys' Scarface and later put high-schoolers Keak da Sneak, BA, and Agerman together as 3X Krazy. But despite the enduring popularity of "Five on It," the classic sound Tone helped pioneer has lately been held responsible for the Bay's subsequent commercial drought.

It's an idea Black Dog Bone, editor of Vallejo's redoubtable Murder Dog Magazine, doesn't quite buy. "I do think things got stagnant in the Bay, with the same sound for a long time. But mob music was really popular. People loved it." As a longtime observer, Black Dog attributes the Bay's subsequent commercial decline more to a lack of radio support. "I think the only reason KMEL is playing Bay music now is because of [Power 92.7]," he says. "KMEL was losing its audience. It wasn't about tempo."

Nevertheless, Black Dog's excited about the new sounds coming out of the Bay: "It's hyphy. The beats are faster and crunk-influenced, but the rap is still more like mob." Ivan Heredia, a marketing manager for Penalty/Rykodisc who heard the buzz E-A-Ski and the Frontline were generating out in New York, is confident the label can break the Frontline's Now U Know nationally because its "aggressive, more accessible sound" will appeal in other regions, like the South and the East Coast. "Now's the time for the New Bay to shine," he insists.

Tone Capone is unimpressed: "It's more of a club sound, if there's any kind of vibe attached to it. The New Bay stuff I hear is all kick-clap. Techno sounds. I even did one like that because that's what they wanted. But I can't say that that defines the Bay."

As Tone's remark suggests, the variety of sounds presently flourishing in the Bay can't be reduced to any single category. These days, most Bay Area producers won't even admit to having a particular style, but one thing's for sure: From Federation to the Frontline, most of the recent major signings in the Bay have occurred through local labels, themselves often based around the work of a single producer. In an age of increasingly capable digital technology, the producer has achieved an unprecedented autonomy and importance in hip-hop. Often he wears many hats: arranger, songwriter, musician, label head, artist rep, talent scout, surrogate parent, and sometimes also rapper. The ultimate model, of course, is Dr. Dre, a star in his own right, with million-dollar budgets and a continually expanding roster of platinum artists. Here are a few of the major players in and around the Bay.

Rick Rock

Label: Southwest Federation

Reppin': Fairfield and Sacramento

Like E-A-Ski, Rick Rock has maintained a national reputation as a producer even during the driest days of the Bay's commercial drought, providing hits for the likes of Fabolous, Jay-Z, and Busta Rhymes. And like Ski, Rock has played a central role in the present resurgence. In 2003, on the strength of the radio and club success of "Hyphy," the Fairfield trio Federation were picked up by Virgin through Rock's own Southwest Federation imprint. But Rock was unhappy with Virgin's promotion of Federation's The Album last year. "The whole reason why I did the major-label thing was I wanted the visuals," Rick groans. "But they didn't have a video. It's depressing to know we had a great body of work, and it falls by the wayside."

Besides completing a new Federation album, Rock's splitting production chores with Lil Jon on E-40's album for the crunk king's new BME label, due in September. "When everything was the slow mob music, I came through with the up-tempo, hard-hitting, Rick Rock aggressive music," he says. "Now people are switching to that up-tempo, hard-hitting type of thing. And that's cool – just do it your way. Because next time I come around, I'm going to come around with something else."

Droop E

Production team: The Pharmaceuticals
Reppin': Vallejo

"As far as the Bay Area," Rick Rock says, "I think Droop E, E-40's son, is gonna blow up. A youngster – he's 17 now. He was raised in music, though." Indeed, Droop E's first appearance on wax was at the age of three on his father's 1993 album, Federal (Sick wid It), though his production debut, at 15, was a Turf Talk track on Mack 10's 2003 compilation, Ghetto, Gutter and Gangsta (Ark21). He's also laced tracks for Mistah F.A.B., Baby Jaymes, and, of course, his pops.

"Pharmaceuticals: We're basically prescriptions and antidotes for these rappers," Droop E explains. Yet he adheres to no one formula. Compare the slow, swelling R&B brass on his "Can't Nobody," from Messy Marv's Disobayish (Scalen, 2004), with the techno-influenced shuffle of "Get On My Hype," from Marv's Bandanas, Tattoos and Tongue Rings (Scalen, 2005). "I flip-flop," he says. "I don't want to stay in one category." His own group, the Cabinet, is currently working on their Sick Wid It debut.

Sean T

Production Team: Dallas Squad

Reppin': East Palo Alto

If you're feelin' Mac Dre's posthumous hit, "Feelin' Myself," then you're feelin' Sean T. With a career stretching back to 1989 with Murder One Records, Sean T has numerous solo albums, but he is more known these days as a producer of "slaps," those monster handclap beats that remain a staple of a Bay Area hip-hop diet. Still, his production is diverse: The multi-instrumentalist draws on exotic varieties of world music in his search for sounds, layering them into thick, piano-laced slabs of gangsta funk. "I don't really have a style, because I'm like a chameleon," he says.

Having produced much of JT the Bigga Figga's two proto-Game releases, 2004's The Untold Story and 2005's West Coast Resurrection (both Get Low), Sean maintained ties with the Aftermath signee, who helped the producer land a distribution deal with Interscope for his own Get Gone Records. His album, Long Time Comin', is due out this month.

Mekanix (Dotrix and K. Tweed)

Label: Zoo Entertainment

Reppin': East Oakland

The Mekanix were accidentally formed in 1999, when former Digital Underground DJ Dotrix hooked up with street producer Kenny Tweed to work on a couple of tracks. Six years later they're still working together on a daily basis, laying down darkly atmospheric, stridently synthetic grooves for Eddie Projex, Dru Down, the Delinquents, Keak da Sneak, and Yukmouth. "They're definitely coming with something new that's not your typical Bay sound," E-A-Ski partner CMT remarks. "Very innovative beats." Recent albums featuring mostly Mekanix music include former Cydal member T-Luni's The Autobiography and FM Blue's The World Is Blue (both FastLife, 2004) and female rapper Okolo's Diamond N tha Ruff (HereAfter, 2005).

Touré

Label: 101% Music

Reppin': East Oakland

Touré's been holding it down for years as chief DJ for the Hieroglyphics, as recently documented on their Full Circle Tour DVD-live album (Hiero). His career as a producer started gradually, beginning with a track on Casual's 1994 classic, Fear Itself (Jive). Currently in the process of establishing his own label, 101% Music, Touré is working with former TWDY member Dolla Will, Emaculate, and Rhythm & Green members Ray Royal and Crown Jewel. He's also formulating Touré's Theory with the 101% roster.

Touré attributes the club sounds circulating throughout Bay music at present to the current software packages. "Hip-hop comes bundled with techno," he says. "And a lot of these keyboards now, you can manipulate and change the sound waveforms and create your whole sound."

Mike D

Label: Mo Slap Beats

Reppin': Oakland

An accomplished organist who enlivens the services at both Abyssian Baptist Church and Millenium Ministries in Oakland, Mike D has served as a musical director and performer on tours with TLC, Faith Evans, and Tony! Toni! Tone! But he is best known for laying down dark slices of funk behind OGs like Too $hort and the Delinquents. With his former partner, Sonny B, Mike laced $hort's coming-out-of-retirement albums, 1999's Can't Stay Away and 2000's You Nasty (Short), with four tracks each. His experience with the Delinquents' 1999 smash, "That Man!" confirms Ski's remarks on making music for the radio (see " 'Pressure' Drop"): "They really wasn't feelin' it, but I told them, 'You gotta give the radio something that moves.' " More recently Mike's been talking with Def Jam about his new label, Mo Slap Beats, and helping to promote Yella Paidgez (DoWhatchaDo), by his brother Yella Yezz.

One Drop Scott

Reppin': Berkeley

The son of Thalmus Rasulala (who appeared in such films as 1975's Friday Foster) and born in LA, Scott moved to the Bay as a kid in the early '70s. The accomplished percussionist helped form Salsa de Berkeley, played drums for jazz giants like Bill Summers, and replaced then-girlfriend Sheila E in Confunkshun.

While a member of the Freaky Executives, Scott wrote and produced a novelty rap song "Surf or Die" – a 1987 full-length of that name, credited to the Surf MC's on Profile Records, just edges out Life Is...Too Short (Jive, 1988) as the first big-label Bay Area rap album. One Drop worked with Tone Capone on Scarface and 3X Krazy projects, but it was his work on C-Bo's Til My Casket Drops (AWOL, 1998) that earned him his reputation for densely layered, musically sophisticated tracks that still bring the boom. One Drop recently contributed to BavGate's The InstaGator (Thizz, 2005).

Tone Capone

Reppin': North Oakland

"Straight mob," Tone says, his gravely voiced, staccato pronouncements betraying the world-weariness of one who's been to the platinum mountain yet found it wanting. "Just want to make some good music before I die, do my part." Yet despite Tone's seeming lack of ambition, his utter refusal to get excited about the latest round of major-label courtship, the ongoing intensity of his music is evident. In addition to recent work with San Quinn, Tone is preparing a conscious thug project called The Product, due on Koch in a few months, with Scarface, SF's Will Hen, and Mississippi's Young Malice. "It's a group with different flavors from different regions," he says, playing me cuts of awesomely revamped mob music, bouncing and slapping a little bit faster, more spaciously.

A track comes on that's a little slower, with the huge whomp bass of classic Bay mob. It's totally Tone, and I start to describe why this track reminds me of the old mob music in a way the other ones didn't, though I'm aware of an amusement dawning behind his impassive features. He waits for me to finish my explanation, then savors his mirth a moment longer. "Scarface produced that one."


part 1

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Is There Really a New Bay Rising?

The post-2Pac pack
Did the death of Tupac Shakur throw Bay Area hip-hop into a tailspin? And is there really a "New Bay" rising?

By Garrett Caples
San Francisco Bay Guardian March 16, 2005

You can pick me up; I'll be posted on 10th Street

'Cause you know that's where I'll be

Stuck like a telephone pole.

SO SINGS YOUNG rapper J-Stalin – a DJ Darryl discovery and former Richie Rich protégé – on a hook from his recent first mix tape, R-N-B. And it's true. As I roll up 10th Street in West Oakland's Oak Center, I see the short, wiry MC in the distance, standing in the middle of the street, talking on his cell. On the other end of the line, next to me in the car, is Dotrix 4000, a.k.a. Dontrell Mayfield, a former Digital Underground DJ turned MC-producer as half of the Mekanix. We've just driven from his house in East Oakland to pick up Stalin and bring him back to the Mekanix's studio, where they're finishing Stalin's debut, On Behalf of the Streets, for the duo's new label, Zoo Entertainment.

I live downtown, in a neighborhood no one calls Lakeside, about 20 blocks from where Stalin's "posted." In effect, I've spent my day doing a citywide doughnut. But Stalin's hood is worth it. A post-WWII black community inhabiting the structures of a middle-class Victorian past, Oak Center is funky as hell, beautiful blocks of houses in all shades and states of repair, dotted with buildings of a more recent vintage.

According to the fall 2003 Oakland Heritage Alliance News, the entire neighborhood was slated for demolition by the Department of Housing and Urban Development in the early '60s to make way for vast, anonymous housing projects. Only stubborn local resistance thwarted the plan.

'New Bay' vibed

Like Oak Center, Bay Area hip-hop is characterized by stubborn resistance, epitomized by 2Pac and still evident in Stalin's provocative choice of namesake. And that same spirit animates the community's reception of the catchphrase "New Bay." Coined by Oakland MC Balance but popularized by Richmond duo the Frontline, the term "New Bay" has led to press in national publications like Vibe and XXL. The latter forecast a "resurrection" of Bay Area hip-hop based on Virgin's 2004 success with the Federation (from Fairfield) and Ryko's signing of the Frontline on the strength of their EA-SKI-produced hit "What Is It." Since the single broke into the rotation of the notoriously local-leery KMEL, 106 FM, the radio exposure has helped the group move 10,000 copies of Who R You (IMG), their 2004 independent debut, which will be updated and rereleased by Ryko as Now U Know.

Yet the phrase has also sparked a firestorm of controversy in the Bay Area hip-hop scene.

"I guess people are like, we done worked too hard to let people come in and say, 'We're the New Bay – fuck all the old shit,' " Dotrix 4000 says. "Those cats screaming, 'New Bay' – they ain't connected. But the underground is all connected. We've been connected."

As if cued, G-Stack of Oakland's Delinquents calls Dotrix 4000's cell. "I think it's bullshit," he says of the New Bay concept. At the same time, he lets it be known his gripe isn't personal. "I think the Frontline does have talent, and I wish them well. But it's about public perception. 'New' comes right after 'old.' "

Therein lies the problem. Like most forms of popular entertainment, hip-hop is extremely susceptible to the cult of the new. Careers start young and end early, unless you can adapt to rap's ever-changing circumstances. It requires indefatigable effort to stay on top of the game, the type of effort that's driven the Delinquents to record not one but two mix CDs – Have Money Have Heart volumes 1 and 2 (Dank or Die Records) – addressing the New Bay controversy. In a gesture of defiance, G-Stack and fellow Delinquent V. White enlisted the aid of Too $hort, Oakland's ultimate OG, for "Say Bitch," the lead single, which disses the New Bay in no uncertain terms.

The "2Pacalypse" Theory

To fully understand why a phrase so small could generate a reaction so extreme from a vet like G-Stack, we must invoke the "2Pacalypse" theory. Believers argue that Pac's death in '96 triggered an artistic decline that left Bay Area hip-hop incapable of attracting a national audience or major-label interest. Thus, the Frontline's bio on www.thefrontlineonline.com offers, "In the past six years, the Bay Area hip-hop scene has become stagnant, passing off replicas of established artists as new talent." Add a couple of years to account for the age of this blurb and we're back at 1997, without even mentioning Makaveli directly. The New Bay clearly presupposes the 2Pacalypse, insofar as there must be a grave from which to resurrect Bay Area hip-hop.

But the 2Pacalypse theory has at least two major holes that make it an unsuitable foundation on which to build an understanding of local hip-hop. For starters, it holds the artists responsible for the behavior of major labels. Yet even before 2Pac's death, major labels were getting cold feet in the Bay. On his Web site, www.guerillafunk.com, for example, Paris is vocal about his problems with Tommy Boy and then Priority regarding the political content of his work, which effectively stalled his career in the mid-'90s.

Or take the case of Ray Luv, 2Pac's partner in the Marin City group Strictly D.O.P.E. In 1993, Ray scored an independent radio hit with "Get Your Money On," on Mac Dre's Strictly Business Records. In 1995, with Dre in prison, Ray signed with Atlantic (once part of Time Warner and now with Warner Music Group), through Khayree's label, Young Black Brotha. Atlantic, he tells me, "put out my album about six weeks before Time Warner was about to fire Interscope over Death Row and 2Pac. So every record like Pac's basically got shelved because they didn't want you to blow up."

"I'd be in L.A. – I'm getting walk-ons on the biggest shows," he says. "Shows they couldn't get me, I'm getting. Atlantic moved me from there and sent me to Kansas City for five days. And I'm like, what just happened? Once we pissed each other off, they were sending me to hotels where my window faced a brick wall. It got weird, so I quit. I took from '96 to '99 off."

If this sounds like the paranoia of a could've-been contender, consider the source. Handsome and charismatic, Ray was already a proven hit-maker, as was Khayree. The label exec who couldn't exploit so close a connection to Pac for at least gold in 1995, when he was already the biggest-selling rapper ever, strikes me as an underachiever at best.

The second hole in the 2Pacalypse theory is the fact that the creative decline of Bay Area hip-hop never really occurred. With the major labels increasingly reluctant to sign acts, much of the scene went underground. If you generated huge numbers, like E-40, whose 1993 EP, The Mail Man, debuted in the Billboard Top 20 with no distribution deal, you could force the majors to deal with you. (E-40 was quickly signed by Jive.)

But it grew increasingly apparent that you could do without them. Indie scenes sprang up around artists like Blackalicious and the Soulsides/Quannum collective. In Oakland, Pam the Funkstress and Boots reinvigorated political rap on a national level as the Coup. Artists like Del tha Funky Homosapien left labels like Elektra to establish their own companies, while others, like the Delinquents, built huge followings from the ground up.

New bosses

By 1999, the revolution was in full swing, as independent tunes began to infiltrate the airwaves. Among the local hits on KMEL that year was "That Man!," by the Delinquents, who went on to move 50,000 copies of 1999's Bosses Will Be Bosses (Dank or Die). By the end of the year, however, Clear Channel had bought KMEL, and G-Stack says he's been unable to get airplay since. (As of press time, KMEL musical director "Big Von" Johnson was unavailable for comment.)

The Delinquents maintain a sizable fan base. "They are Oakland," Dotrix 4000 says, "in terms of selling records and reppin' our city. They can't throw a party and it's not sold out." But while successful acts like the Delinquents have countered the lack of radio exposure and label support through relentless hustle, it's unclear whether hustle alone can withstand the effect of the media actively promoting other artists as New Bay hip-hop.

On the phone, the Frontline are more conciliatory than they come off online. They seem genuinely nonplused by the furor the New Bay catchphrase has provoked. "Without the veterans," MC Locksmith of the Frontline says, "you have no Frontline, without the Too $horts, the E-40s, the Delinquents, the Luniz, without any of these cats." His partner, Left, concurs: New Bay was meant to be "a fresh way of looking at Bay music" rather than an attack. "Let everybody come up. Let's all make good music and all come up together."

I brought this statement to a number of rappers, and responses ranged from "They should've said that first" to "SKI should've known better" to "Fuck them niggas" – disappointing, but you can see their point. We're talking about a scene that still produces entire albums dedicated to Rappin' Ron of Bad Influenz, who died in a car crash in 1997. Most Bay Area rappers I've spoken to have real reverence for the tradition on which they build, and the New Bay concept offends their sensibilities.

Like the residents of Oak Center, they're proud of their community and don't want it wrecked by decisions made outside. In that light, the resentment provoked by the New Bay concept and the flurry of accompanying diss records shouldn't be ascribed to envy. They signify, instead, the stubborn resistance of a community that has survived without assistance and that refuses to cooperate, or be co-opted, except on its own terms.

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