Revenge of da Turntablists
Various, Return of the DJ Vol. II (Bomp Hip-Hop) 9+
The X-ecutioners, X-plorations (Asphodel) 9+
DJ Krush, Milight (Mo Wax) 9+
In the beginning, there was the Technics turntable, there was the record, and there was the DJ. Anyone who thinks this focus on scratchin' hip-hop DJs is something new obviously don't know their history. This artform is at least 24 years old now, and that's if you don't count the Jamaican dancehall DJs from the early 60s. This is genuine folk art boys and girls. In 1967, Clive Campbell emigrated from Kingston, Jamaica to the West Bronx. In 1973, his sister needed music for her birthday party. In the recreation room of the housing project at 1520 Sedgewick Avenue, Clive hooked up two turntables, and found the crowd loved the "break" parts of songs like James Brown's "Give It Up or Turn It Loose," when the instruments jammed. Those sonic orgasms were too short, so he got two copies of each record to cut back and forth to create an extended version. By 1974, he was known as DJ Kool Herc and had a mighty sound system and a crew known as the Herculords. Instead of reggae, Herc spun his famous James Brown break beats along with the hard-driving polyrhythmms of Latin salsa. To stymie competition, Herc guarded the names of his records by soaking the labels off.
He couldn't fool a high school student known as Afrika Bambaataa, though. Afrika had an even more impressive record collection, with everything from rock, to r&b/soul, to Latin, calypso, classcial, and the African sounds of Miriam Makeba, Manu Dibango, and Fela Kuti. Bambaataa recognized the samples, liked what he heard and started spinning himself in 1976. That same year, Joseph Saddler, a.k.a. Grandmaster Flash, another Bronxite of Jamaican descent, pushed the envelope in break-beat science another step. He employed his knowledge as an electronics major to perfect the art of mixing and punch phasing, in which a certain musical phrase or vocal snippet from one record could be quickly "punched" in over the other record as it played. He did this by installing a SPDT (single-pole, double-throw) switch on his mixer, allowing him to cue on his headphones. Herc cued by sight, which made for some comparatively sloppy mixing. By the following year, Flash and his crew came up with the innovation of scratching (which, incidentally, resembles the sound of an African instrument called the sekere) and had surpassed Herc's popularity, packing crowds of up to three thousand. In 1981, Grandmaster Flash showed off his early innovations in scratching and mixing on the seven minute long, "The Adventures of Grandmaster Flash On The Wheels Of Steel." But even by 1978, the spotlight had shifted to those controlling the microphone -- the MCs.
By 1980, Afrika Bambaataa had a sound system which featured a group of break-dancers known as the Zulu Kings and Zulu Queens, and a stable of MCs. With his group, the SoulSonic Force, Bambaataa released "Planet Rock" on Tommy Boy in 1982. Just like King Tubby needed Daddy U. Roy to toast over his dubs in Jamaica, the DJs needed an MC to hold people's attention. It was only natural that the charismatic personalities of these MCs would eclipse the DJs who were too busy cutting the break-beats with surgical precision to even notice who was watching. Ever since the DJs have been lurking in the background away from the limelight. But the MCs haven't been so charismatic these past few years. It seems just as hip-hop had finally been taken seriously and accepted as a new American cultural artform as valid as jazz by the mainstream and academic world (see ethnomusicologists take on "My Adidas" in "The Phonograph Turntable and Performance Practice in Hip Hop Music"), the art itself stagnated with the decline in number of quality artists and the dominance of incompetent but mega-successful stars like Coolio and Puff Daddy. The time was ripe for the revenge of the DJ.
Throughout the history of hip-hop, there have always been DJ competitions. Perhaps it's because hip-hop has been in a general slump that people have recently refocused on the competitions. Or perhaps the DJs have gotten that much better. It's probably a combination of those factors, and their newly developed organizational and self-promotional abilities. Hence, a name for this movement -- the "turntablists." And a groundbreaking compilation in 1994, Return of the DJ, Vol. I. The highlight of the collection were cuts by DJs from two turntablist crews who each dominate a separate coast -- Q-Bert from San Francisco's Invisible Skratch Piklz, and Rob Swift from New York's X-Men, now known as the X-ecutioners to avoid legal troubles with Marvel Comics. This is fitting, since a recent climax of DJ competitions was the legendary battle between the International Turntablist Federation sponsored X-Men vs. Invisibl Skratch Piklz. DJs from each crew have become so good and have won so many consecutive titles, that they had been asked to step down to let other less established DJs have a chance at the titles. Turntablism is at its most powerful and impressive when the presence and moves of the DJs are witnessed visually. Keep an eye out for the documentary which starts at the beginning with Kool Herc, Bambaataa and Grandmaster Flash, and covers the turntablists in depth. Battle Sounds will hopefully soon be broadcast on PBS. Despite it's visual impact, it is a natural step to progress towards making records. In addition to the hottest American DJs, Return of the DJ, Vol. II features DJs from around the world, including London, Amsterdam, Paris, Vantaa (Finland), Montreal, and Oslo. An essential album, not only as a historical document, but a crazed rump-rollickin' party album too.
The core DJs in the X-ecutioners (Rob Swift, Roc Raida, Total Eclipse and Mista Sinista) all work behind other hip-hop artists, such as Akinyele, Common, Show, Jungle Brothers, and OC. One would think an album of scratchin' DJs would be boring. But this is turntablism at its finest, fusing experimental and classical hip-hop with a swirling array of found sounds, spoken words, and the tightest, most symbiotic, rhythmic meeting of DJ with MC that hasn't been seen in a decade. This isn't just for beat heads, it's for any hip-hop enthusiast. The Invisible Skratch Piklz may even top this with their own album in their attempt to communicate with extraterrestrial life. "That's what scratching is. It's communication to the aliens. I think that shit can make them land, for reals," said Mixmaster Mike in the Jan/Feb issue of URB. Unfortunately, the aliens will have to wait, as the release of their album was delayed by their reluctance to hand over their "baby" to the Asphodel label, with whom they have a one album contract.
DJ Krush (aka Hideaki Ishi) is a 35 year-old Tokyo-based B-boy who used to be part of the "Yakuza" Japanese gangster organization. After seeing the movie Wild Style in the 80s, he was reborn and redeemed through music. Despite the traditional gangster exit ritual of cutting off a finger, Krush was lucky enough to have an unusually insightful boss who let him leave with the tools of his trade, all ten fingers, intact. Unlike most boasting, larger-than-life hip-hop celebrities, Krush has taken a more zen approach, quietly making stripped-down avant garde hip-hop beats and collaborating with Guru, C.L. Smooth, DJ Shadow, The Roots' Black Thought and Malik B. His first album, 1994's Strictly Turntablized, on Mo Wax, laid the groundwork that other DJs would build upon, including future Mo Wax star DJ Shadow. On Milight, his fourth album, DJ Krush stretches out, adding melodic moments to his trademark dark, sinister beats. And like his previous album, Meiso, he includes a slew of guest hip-hop artists -- Tragedy, Shawn J. Period, Mos Def, London's Deborah Anderson, France's DJ Cam, Japan's Rino, and even Japanese jazz singer Eri Ohno contributes to "Mind Games." 1997 is the year hip-hop becomes a global music.
