FEATURING: Gangster Politics, Jake Brown, Love Zone, Black Harmony and someone pretending to be Big Joe B. from Slyce!
PLUS: DD cups can’t stop Cream from curdling!
“edited” by AL SOUTH
f If I hear Puff Daddy one more time on Mix 96 I’m going to hurl, okay, HURL! [BLEEP!]
m This is Jake Brown and this is the second and last rant I will ever send. Well, I just caught the Gangster Politics show at Café Campus and they were AMAZING. Ska is the greatest! An hour and a half of dancing and fun and sex—and I guess sex is good. And so is ska! Incidentally, the boys at Stomp never called me a cunt. In fact, they’re the friendliest, most helpful people I ever dealt with in my life. They’re great, they’re mensches. I like ska. And that Wrigley’s gum up your bum song? We used to dance to that at Simon Fraser University when the Villains used to play back in 1978. Simon Fraser University in British Columbia, when we are all ska crazy. And Simon Fraser’s birth place is in Ste-Anne-de-Bellevue. You can go visit his house, it says Simon Fraser was born here. The fucking prick. [BLEEP!]
m I was at Cream two weeks ago and I have to say it had by far the highest people-to-production ratio I’ve ever seen at a party that size. Anyone who paid to get into that party should feel completely ripped off. There were almost 10,000 people, there were no visuals, almost no lighting, the worst sound, zero ventilation, zero regard for people. The kids were just treated like CATTLE. Unbelievably bad. [BLEEP!]
f Cream ‘97, visions of heaven, alas what was found—the crappiest party around. Party sluts, pit boys, sick to my gut, I’m approaching annoyed. Alas, my chin is up. Slam! A DD cup!! Regrouping I wander, what is that over yonder? The excitement it grows, I wanna move those toes! Over the crowd I see the door, it’s too fucking bad I can’t see the floor. Moseying in, the nausea builds, there’s no fucking air, I need gills! Disappointed I leave, to the chill room I weave. Hey, where’s the music? Think I’m gonna lose it. Thank god for E, thank god for friends, thanks to them I’m on the mend. Next time you want my 30 bucks, please make sure your party doesn’t suck. Love, Cookie Books. [BLEEP!]
m This is about the local DANCEHALL REGGAE scene in Montreal. In case anyone’s interested, Love Zone and Black Harmony took it on the road to Ottawa last Saturday and ended up in a slight sound clash in which Love Zone completely just MURDERED Black Harmony. Love Zone is the biggest sound in Montreal. Don’t question it. [BLEEP!]
m I’m a 10-year hip hop veteran, still unknown outside of Montreal. I just got back from the Rap City competition at the Spectrum. This goes out to both the performers and the audience. I am motherfucking sick and tired of MCs cupping the mic with their palms and SCREAMING at full volume. You can’t understand a word they’re saying, and lyrics are the most important thing in hip hop. And everyone is more concerned with how they are perceived by other people fashion-wise than how they LIVE. Everyone’s worried, “Do I look fresh?” “Do I look dope?” “What does he or she think about me?” In Montreal only five per cent of us are really true to hip hop, the rest of you are an EMBARRASSMENT. That’s from the heart. You’re all jumping around on stage, can’t hear a word you’re saying, absolutely no performance skills whatsoever. Speak clearly and perform your songs! It’s all cool to represent and everything, but what are you really representing? Yourself? Your city? Your image? What? All the people in hip hop need to take a deep look inside themselves and ask what they’re in it for. ‘Coz I strive and I struggle every day till my shit is correct, and these people are coming out incredibly egotistical and materialistic and it’s a SHAME. All right. That’s from John Doe. Peace to everyone. Even you blind motherfuckers. [BLEEP!]
m Hey, this is [someone pretending to be] BIG JOE B. from SLYCE and I got a bad-ass rant for you, so you better print it or I’ll be very angry [starts to rap in a ponderous manner]: My name is Joe and I’m better than the rest, when I’m up against the wall I always pass the test/If you got some beef, pass it on down, I like it with HP, T-bone or ground/My raps are like burritos with heavy hot sauce, I’m chilling with my homeys in a figure-four leglock/When it comes to rhymes I got it all down, when I open my cheeks I’m the best in town/André knows, just ask him, when I spank his little monkey, it’s over the rim/Last year I relocated to Dusseldorf, all the rappers lived in fear/So watch out music scene, ‘coz I’m a rapping machine/Keep your engine clean… if you know what I mean. PUNK. [BLEEP!]
Next week: Big Joe B. from Slyce returns to the Mirror office looking to beat the shit out of Al South.
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