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.

Ochocinco's Fumble - Chris 'Preach' Smith

Chad Ochocinco isn't the first football player to fumble the ball. But
this kind of fumble marks you as having something worse than soft
hands. He's fighting off severe criticism because his reality TV show,
'The Ultimate Catch' has almost no Black women vying to win his heart
in front of millions. In fact, there's been some claims that Ochocinco
himself made sure that was the case during auditions leading to the
taping of the first episode. The backlash has spilled out over the 'Net
and has led to some obviously uncomfortable moments for the star
Cincinatti Bengals wideout, notably when he appeared on the 'Wendy
Williams' show.

Are you surprised though? Really?

All of Ochocinco's antics are part and parcel of the separate reality that
athletes occupy. This shouldn't surprise anyone if it's deliberate. You
could rattle off a list of athletes of color, and actors and actresses for
that matter, who have chosen to be in interracial relationships. In this
case, it does suggest that Chad has an issue with Black women. And
that speaks to a more troubling aspect of his personality, something
which he might have to deal with on his own time. It doesn't mean a
hill of beans to me. But the reaction from some people has caught me
off guard. There's a lot of sisters who want to take this man to task
for disrespecting Black women by not allowing them to compete for
his affections on his show. To them, I say: fall back. You're mad that
a football player isn't allowing a sister to effectively try to win the
lottery aka date him on national television? Ridiculous. I think a few
of them are mad because they don't have access to someone of that
stature. And that anger suggests that you wouldn't mind being a
trophy, which is no attitude a woman should EVER have. Colleges have
made a mint pushing that twisted 'to the victor go the spoils' policy
for years. Black women are hard to deal with, and White women are
easy. False, and false again.

It's no secret that Black men and Black women have their respective
issues when it comes to dating and relationships and communication.
As much as the media at large would like you to believe we corner the
market on such dysfunction, we don't. Watch a 'Snapped' marathon
on the Oxygen network as proof. But what Ochocinco's situation showed
me is that there's a lot of elements at play with that discord. The first
element is, Black women do face issues finding a mate due to societal
issues plaguing Black men like imprisonment, unemployment or low
employment. Then there are the players, and other cats who mess
around on top of that. It leaves them cautious. But on the flip side of
that, you have some sisters who shun some brothers for superficial
reasons. If you doubt me, go to a club or a show and observe the
craziness on both sides of the equation. I can tell you that I've been
in situations where I definitely got more shade hanging out with a
White woman thrown at me by sisters who may or may not have paid
attention to me if I was by myself. I've even had people misconstrue
stuff I've said online to suggest that I discriminate against women of
color. I know that the only way to combat any of this is to address
the stuff as it comes up with respect, understanding and productive
discourse. There's work to be done on both sides. And let's face it,
Chad might be more successful catching some ambitious bird on a
TV show than the winning touchdown in a Super Bowl.

Oscar and LeBron - Chris 'Preach' Smith

Let me paint a picture of perspective for you, if I may.

Yesterday, the East Coast began to feel relief from one heat wave
that took place earlier in the week and joined the rest of the nation
in the downright obsessive wave of news stories dedicated to NBA
free agency. The focus of those stories was all about where LeBron
James would go. From the moment he and the Cleveland Cavaliers
left the postseason, the story has become a daily fixture across
all forms of media. It all came to a head last night as James, in a
move most would call narcissistic and pompous, announced that
he would join the Miami Heat in an hour-long special program that
ESPN was only too happy to oblige him with in a time slot normally
set for State of The Union addresses. The uproar could be felt from
shoreline to shoreline, with Cleveland experiencing anguish and rage
that was expressed in people burning his jersey and his former owner
unleashing such a vicious public letter ripping James for his decision.
Which is understandable to a point. I'll go into that a little later.

All of this frenzy probably didn't mean a damn in Oakland, California.
The reason for that being that the verdict came down in the Oscar
Grant trial hours earlier. For those not in the know, Oscar Grant was
a young man, a father who was caught up in a fracas on a BART
platform in the early hours of New Year's Day last year. The 22 year
old was forced to the ground by police officers as seven other young
Black men were present. Grant, who was known as a peacemaker,
was talking to them, pleading with them to co-operate with the cops
who were responding to reports of a fight. Officer Johannes Mehserle
and another officer forced Grant to the ground. Then, percieving
Grant to be resisting arrest as the other officer put his knee to Grant's
back, Mehserle pulled out his service pistol and shot Grant once in his
back, the bullet then re-entering into his lungs. Oscar Grant died that
morning after lying on the ground in agony for 40 minutes while the
police made themselves busy confiscating cellphones from people who
were taking video, save for one by Katrina Vargas who was on a BART
train pulling out. In the subsequent trial of Mehserle, the jury found
him guilty only of involuntary manslaughter. Mehserle in testimony had
stated that he intended to pull out his Taser instead of his .40 caliber
pistol.

What we have here folks, is an abject failure all around with regards to
perspective. On my way into Manhattan yesterday, I overheard and was
dragged into at least four different conversations about where LeBron
James would go. I had to search a little online just to get word about
the Oscar Grant trial verdict. For all of those cursing LeBron James for
not choosing your team and going to play for Miami, let me ask you one
question: what matters most to you, where a millionaire athlete chooses
to play ball or the fact that a Black man was essentially murdered in
cold blood and the person who did it essentially will get off light? This
may seem a bit heavy-handed, but there's no other way to put it across.
ESPN is at fault for essentially making a profit off of all of this speculation
and has invited every bit of criticism it gets. For that matter, so does other
sections of the media. And maybe some of us, myself included need that
too. Because Oscar Grant isn't here to share in all of this with us, and the
reasons why are downright sobering if not outrageous. And we should be
mindful that no matter how much progress we've made in these United
States, there are always reminders that come along that just show just
how divided we are. And you don't need floor-side season tickets to
understand just how serious that is. Think about that today...and think
about Oscar Grant as well. Maybe LeBron will be doing that on his private
Gulfstream as he travels to South Beach.

Bombs Bursting in Air - Chris 'Preach' Smith

Another Fourth of July holiday weekend has passed us by, and amidst
all of the flag-waving, the barbeques and parades, one thing defines
the Fourth like no other: fireworks. Lots and lots of fireworks. As a
matter of fact, as I write this, there's still some younger dudes out on
the block setting off firecrackers in the cover of darkness.

This country was born in gunpowder and cannon fire, so fireworks are
a lasting reminder of those times. But is it me, or have fireworks and
the Fourth of July become just another reason to act a fool? To be fair,
I had my days running the streets on July 4th and beyond in the summer,
where fireworks were forbidden but accessible fruit like 40 ounces. I
even remember rolling with a couple of dudes to pick them up from
those bodegas that stocked them under the counter next to those old
expiring bottles of Spanish Fly. There's a thrill in seeing the fuse being
lit and watching the fire rapidly crawl towards the inevitable explosion.
I remember being excited and anxious at the same time lighting up
bottle rockets and Roman candles. As time passed, boredom led to a
few and crazy experiments. One I will never forget involved an M-80
which is a quarter stick of dynamite and an empty Snapple bottle. And
a bottle rocket battle once ended with this little kid getting grazed on
the nose by a wayward one. But I outgrew it, and moved on to other
things.

I understand the allure. But it's gotten past that into flat-out stupidity
to a degree. (Observe below...)

It's as if people are pushing way past the limits of common sense
for no other reason but to have fun. One person in Long Island blew
his arm off this past weekend. Blew his arm off. It boggles the mind.
Combine alcohol and you've got even more serious situations. There's
nothing patriotic at all about throwing cherry bombs at someone's
house. Unless you're Macy's or some other group setting up a large
show, I don't want to hear about fireworks celebrating the birth of
America. Some people these days have such a slip-shod view of
American history, they believe that the Confederate States fought
for states' rights only. Yeah right. You're not going to ban fireworks
outright, not when they bring in a lot of income the further south
you get. But I will exercise my American right to look at you like
you're a fool when you damage property and hurt someone setting
them off.

Gone Too Soon..An MJ Rememberance - Chris 'Preach' Smith

If anything else today lets you know how fast time flies away
from us, it's the fact that Michael Jackson, the undisputed King
of Pop left us a year ago on this date.

Memories of that day seem so surreal. I can remember that
evening sunset, and how the sky seemed to bleed rather than
fade away as every stoop in the Lower East Side blared an MJ
cut. Everyone, and I mean EVERYONE was not prepared for
this man to leave this planet. A year later, we're still dealing
with it hard. And yet, MJ still reigns supreme. Even in an
industry where talent is either compromised for profit or just
as disposable as Wet Wipes, Jackson's estate made close to
one billion dollars since his death. One billion dollars. Even
Elvis would be dumbfounded. There have been people who
now make claims that present pop icons like Justin Bieber
and Lady Gaga are the proper artists to whom the torch can
be passed. To those people I say, stop sniffing the propane.
Neither one of them, and anyone else on the current scene
can even come close to the generational effect this man had
on the world. And it's an insult to him to even make that claim.

Say what you will about the man, but you can't deny the fact
that a whole lot of people feel he's gone away from us too soon.