When The Record Skips - Chris 'Preach' Smith

It seems rather poetic that as this summer comes to a close,
a staple of independent hip hop in New York City will close its doors
forever. Last Wednesday, Fat Beats issued a press release announcing
that they were closing up shop in both the New York and Los Angeles
locations. I had to re-read the statement a couple of times just for
it to seem real. And so I wound up making a trip down to the Village
just to step inside the venerable store once again.

Right from the moment I hit the corner of Eighth Street and Sixth
Avenue, memories started rushing forth in my mind as if someone
popped the cap off of a fire hydrant. Gray's Papaya still held down the
corner, the smell of hot dogs drifting in front of your nose as you walked
by. As I got to the front door to climb the stairs to the second floor, I
was met by two cats who were hustling their music. One dude was
just handing out stickers and I grabbed one without breaking my
stride. The other dude, an MC, was chatting up two unsuspecting
tourists who probably viewed him as a New York experience akin to
seeing a street drummer with a plastic bin for a drum. 'Hey my dude-'
he began before I cut him off. 'I'll get at you in a sec yo.' I said,
already making my way inside. 'Check me out b...I'm just a little
guy!' he yelled as I climbed the stairs. I forgot how steep they were
so I paused at the top before I walked into Fat Beats.

I walked in and just stopped. The place was almost empty save for
about three or four people. It's a small space but somehow it always
seemed to hold enough people to rock a small concert. I looked over
at the turntable area, now by the windows instead of it being right
by the door as you enter. I remembered being in here while Jean
Grae was doing an in-store appearance. Small, feisty, full of dry wit
and metaphor flips she held a captive audience and cracked us all
up with this question: 'Okay, who here would step up and fight Freddie
Foxx in an alley?' One dude raised his hand. 'Stop lyin'...you'd probably
make a pound of fudge in your pants,' she managed to say while
laughing. I remembered dropping off flyers here for events just by
talking with someone at the counter who gave me the go-ahead.
The walls were still mostly covered in promotional stickers for artists,
and I bugged out seeing a rack devoted to Rawkus classics on vinyl.

After speaking with J57 who was holding down the counter, I walked
around just taking pictures and video and reminsicing. I was once
fortunate enough to be in the building while DJ Premier was spinning.
There was that Friday night that I was flipping through records with
an ex of mine on one of our dates since she wanted to get a copy of
'The Light' by Pharoahe Monch. I can recall heated debates on subjects
like which Jurassic 5 album was better or what hip hop would've been
like had Biggie and Tupac lived. I got into so many different MC's and
beatmakers from all over the country and overseas here. I even got a
hook-up when I went to Amsterdam and hit up their store over there.
And of course there had to be some drama when a customer got out
of line for some nonsense and in the end, everything got smoothed
over. Fat Beats was an essential part of my high school and college
years. Growing up in New York City, you felt as if the store was a
meeting place for everyone from the five boroughs as well as other
parts of the globe. You didn't even have to be a hip hop head to love
Fat Beats; I've seen plenty of goth kids, ravers and others just come
in because they felt the love and positive vibes.

Fat Beats is still making money, very much so. They've adapted well
to where their online presence is respected. And with the economy
and people just not buying CD's and vinyl in droves, it didn't make
sense for them to stay open. Give them credit; they surpassed a
bunch of other music stores, most notably Virgin Megastore and
Sam Goody which used to be right across the street. It still doesn't
make it easier to accept that the store won't be open anymore. New
York City will be different for it...and I know I will be.

I wind up grabbing some flyers, and the latest CD from the Ethiopian
jazz great, Mulatu Astatke. And as luck would have it, it was the last
one in the store. As I walk out, I look down at the door and see the
'RIP J Dilla' piece there and pause. Exhaling slowly, I head outside
and down the stairs. And as luck would have it, there's that same MC
waiting with a CD in hand. Funny as it sounds, it made me feel better.
He's the living embodiment of what Fat Beats is to everyone who loves
and lives hip hop. And as long as he's doing his thing, you know things
will ultimately be all right.

Comments

[levar f.m.]

R.I.P. to the embodiment of an era of underground radio, corner ciphers, and our transition into adulthood - i speak not only for myself, but for hip-hop as a whole.