Writing about music for a living has afforded me the opportunity to become acquainted with a lot of really talented and cool folks (Scott Thorough, 100dBs, I’m talking about you) who I probably wouldn’t have ever had occasion to speak to in any capacity if I’d never written about their record. Not to say I didn’t already know a lot of really talented people, but I only infrequently use my public forum to plug people I’m cool with, or projects I might have some peripheral involvement or emotional investment in, so more often than not I find myself writing about people who are total strangers to me.
Just this Summer I began selling copies of a CD, called The Tortoise Hustle, which I’d worked on in collaboration with Fort Wayne, Indiana-based emcee Sankofa for the last couple of years, and I only mentioned it in passing in this space once. And yeah, I realize that I’m mentioning it again, which is sort of violating the very ethics I’m paying lip service to, but it’s all part of the path that leads to the ultimate point of today’s post. That point is to illustrate how the connection we all share through music, whether we know each other or not, is pretty crazy. I say this because two songs on The Tortoise Hustle, one of which I produced, feature another Fort Wayne rapper named Rhymewise37, a dude who I’ve never actually met despite the fact that he totally ripped one of my beats. And were it not for my tenuous connection to him, I never would have found today’s featured artist Brown Co., a two-man Hip-Hop crew from North Carolina who happen to be his friends.
The duo, comprised of emcees Haji P. and DunDee released their debut LP Beautiful Day In the Neighborhood (featuring production from New Hampshire-based DJ MF Shalem — known for his work with Scribble Jam champ ADeeM and Sage Francis — and Rezo) this Summer on Cali-based Childproof Records. And in a year crowded by dope Hip-Hop records that a lot of people just plain didn’t pay enough attention to it’s one of my the better debuts that you probably didn’t hear. Their vibe is unapologetically Southern, but their brand of Hip-Hop is traditional, fun and undiluted by the stereotypical trappings of a lot of the mainstream Rap coming out of the region, and even though they have a crazy sense of humor and a lighthearted demeanor, they cast a cynical eye and wield a caustic wit when it comes to important issues, particularly those relating to racial politics in the New South. This uniquely Southern take on boom-bap Rap puts them squarely in the company of groups like Little Brother and CunninLynguists, but with a dash of Bizarre Ride-era Pharcyde and beats more typical of early Millennium indie/backpack Rap.
Listen to “Eat at Whitey’s”
Even if we don’t live right next door to each other, or even really know one another, the neighborhood that’s arose around the intersection of good music and the internet is populated by a lot of really good folks, and I’m happy to be able to give a little shine to my neighbors whenever I can.
- El Keter
