SOUND CHECK

To my left is the amazing D.J. Vajra, to my right is super producer Stro the 89th Key, and to myself is me. Found this footage of a sound check. I saved some of the lyrics but we never recorded this song- it was more of an impromptu sound clash. Vajra was playing a record as well as triggering samples. Stro was trying to match the drums to my rhythm and I was trying to match my raps to his drums, anticipating the pockets. People ask, “Why do rappers move their hands when they are rapping”, I just tell them I am a Microphone Conductor and my hand acts as a baton. Word. My opening line for this verse was (I say this so you don’t think I’m just mumbling, ha): “The horror inside of me similar to Gomorrah societies, stored in a diary stimulant for war and anxiety, watching the door, stalking, for the call of the wild beast was caught in the hall talking through the walls of a liars teeth…” word. If you like, feel free to pass this video around and check out the video section for more flicks! Word, again.

CHECK SOUND

Ah, nothing like waking up in the morning, stubbing your toe on your hard drive, and falling onto a remixyou thought you lost. Yes! A remix by the one and only Stro the 89th Key. A man of dignity, valor, and substance. One who travels the world in search of sounds for the purpose of trapping and taming them to his will. If you picked up “The Art of Broken Glass”, (which I hope you have- legally= means I eat) then you might have noticed a track called “Umpire State”. Well, this so happens to be a remix of that track with an entirely dfferen’t spin on it. I can dig it. Have a listen. Have a free download of it, pass it around if you’d like. Also, keep sending in those remixes! Love em. I have already made a connection with the producer of one of them and intend to work on some original material with him. So yes, its worth it- I hope. Ha. Blessings and thank you very much for your support!

Umpire State By: Stro the 89th Key

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I don’t usually feel inclined to explain my lyrics and I’m not exactly sure that any artist should carry a sense of obligation to do so. However in the case of the song “Love is All” from”The Art of Broken Glass” album, I thought eh…since it’s about an old street I lived on -Columbia Ave.- why not. There is a lot going on in the verse that could use some defining, as long as I’m not selling the song short by doing so. I am a bit long winded so I will focus only on the first verse.

LOVE IS ALL feat. Tara Ellis

Verse 1

“There must have been about a thousand pounds of housing found drowning in the flood
The sound of trusted men are counting down the hour frowns the sun
Around the pounding of the blades the helicopters made
Be it a bomb or promenade see it the momas wana save
Then drop upon us on the shades the fear of honesty
A tear for harmony alarming me a Honda beeps the lottery
I’m joking like they on to me cars play the martyr
Broken windows say I’m starving but the bars say don’t bother
And I’m hollering this words reciting Sara Conner
With the calling of the birds on bikes Americana’s
Feeding night its marijuana they light it on the corner
With a sidekick and a quarter for the phone and further orders
Could have grown before it caught up in the home were he was brought up
Shot till he dropped dormant then his property got bought up
Yo there’s metal in the streets for every body they reported
Heard the devil in their sleep say they were properly deported”

Explanation

Columbia Ave is located on the boarder of Echo Park and West Lake near downtown Los Angeles. The neighborhood it sits in has some of the highest crime rates in the city. Last year it was reported to have a 30% higher crime rate then all of Los Angeles. The highschool I lived across from ranked 1.5 on a scale of 10 in education quality and safety. I lived there for 4 years between tour and found myself to be less of a resident and more of an observer. I think my age and gender put me at a safer distance (though not by much) from the neighborhood dangers. Each city in LA has it’s own specific crime its known for. It’s like you can look at a map, point at a district, and say, “Here is where you can get your car stolen”, “Oh, here is where you can get punched in the face”, “Here is a nice little spot to buy Heroin from”, etc. Jokes aside, the neighboorhood I lived in was known for rape and murder ,and it targeted women and kids in their teens.

“…there must of been about a thousand pounds of housing found…” If you have seen my 80’s montage M.C. Training video you’ve seen footage from my alley. Covered in smog soot, warped by rain, and cracked by the sun these apartment units stood bent over dropping pieces of their frame work like tears. Exhausted, these buildings are falling apart daily. Leaving piles of their limbs like drift wood floating up from societies ship wreck, on every corner you stood “…drowing in the flood.” of it.

“…the sound of trusted men are counting down the hour frowns the sun…” From my apartment I constantly heard the passing of police car sirens and the robotic voices from their dispatch giving orders, both twisted by the Doppler Effect and spun out into the neighborhood air. I imagined the Sun catching wind of it all and frowning at the thought of it having to set, knowing what it means to fall asleep in these streets. “…around the pounding of the blades the helicopters made, be it a bomb or promenade see it the momas wana save…” When the sun goes down the helicopters come out. I thought to myself: are we at war? Should I be hearing helicopters above me every night? Does this seem like an environment one should live in? Wondering, “Are they flying for leisure, are they promenading? How different is our understanding of such things when in most circumstances when you hear a helicopter there is a war going on. Is their a difference here? When either way -police or army- safety is being questioned and for that, “Momas need to save their babies”.

“…Then drop upon us on the shades the fear of honesty, A tear for harmony alarming me a Honda beeps the lottery, I’m joking like they on to me cars play the martyr, broken windows say I’m starvin but their bars say don’t bother…” Every night I would go to bed with the police bird flying overhead, (ICE CUBE was right, a day “no helicopter looking for the murder” IS a good day- and good sleep) the pulse of its blades felt like the cities heart- fast with anxiety…andwith good reason- it’s during this time I usually hear a car alarm going off. Some deprived soul just won the lottery. Wether it be to feed the mind or stomach’s hunger, one thing is certain- your stereo is gone brotha! It’s for the human struggle to survive that these cars of ours serve as martyrs, standing their broken, beaten, and left for dead. The city cries for help but it is hurt, deep, bone deep, the kind of wound that makes you fear everyone- a fear that outweighs need. Thus we use bars and help no one, bars- the only band-aid wounds can’t heal under.

“… And I’m hollering this words reciting Sara Conner, with the calling of the birds on bikes Americana’s, Feeding night its marijuana they light it on the corner, With a sidekick and a quarter for the phone and further orders…” 78% of West Lake/Echo Park area first generation Hispanic immigrants. The sound of car alarms is accompanied by the sound of whistling- loud chirps from opposite sides of the street- which gang are they from? It’s not for me to say. It’s an organization. It’s a small business. I lived across the street from a public telephone; there are two on that block on both corners. I didn’t even know they still existed, somehow two of them are still taking orders on Columbia Ave.  Marijuana and conversation seep into my window spawning from a circle of low rider bicycles. A mobile storefront, merchants of false hope. Around 6 in the morning they will usually have a customer sitting on my steps, holding a piece of tin foil, crawling from it that faint aroma freebasing gives off, that chemical burn; 4 years before I thought it was a sign of an electrical fire of some sort- so sheltered.

“…Could have grown before it caught up in the home were he was brought up, Shot till he dropped dormant then his property got bought up, Yo there’s metal in the streets for every body they reported, Heard the devil in their sleep say they were properly deported…” One of my neighbors was shot and killed across the street. The neighborhood laid flowers on the sidewalk and lit Lady Of Guadalupe candles. There are 6 corners on Columbia Ave and I have never seen at least one of them without flowers and candles. The passing cars blow the drying peddles into the street making room for new flowers to be laid- meaning a new life to be lost…After my neighbor was killed the complex he lived in was abandoned. Soon his apartment joined the other buildings in their struggle to stand upright, which is near impossible when you are empty. With the Hispanic community struggling so hard to have equal rights in California, it is an absurd tragic happening that the young of this generation should leave this land at the hands of violence. It is truly the Devils deportation.

“See the world wont change, if the people don’t move, no we cant hide our faces, you know we got a life to use, and they saying that it just cant happen, but they lack the heart to see, we putting words to action, and it all starts with me…cus…Love is All we need.”

Wheoooo, FINALLY!!!! A site! New music! Stuff! Things! and….*boom! my own company? Yes! (De Medeiros, LLC) - more on that later. First off I gotta thank the De Medeiros staff and the hand-full of people who have given their time to make this possible. THANK YOU! As an independent artist I sometimes feel like I am facing my worst personal fears…alone, but then your friends and family come along and tell you to quit urinating on yourself. Not to get all mushy and stuff, but know that when you support myself or any De Medeiros product you are supporting a beating heart…not just a machine, a market, an industry, a genre, or some “head hancho” so far removed from the business he/she creates that people become products, numbers, revenue, etc. Nope, here your voice matters, it’s personal, and it carries far. You are the foundation - THANK YOU!

So let’s get into it! This is my new site; have a look around. You can thank Jairu for the face, Samy for the movement, and Melissa for the substance. To the right you will see some buttons - click on them, they are cool. I will be updating the blog/site weekly so be sure to check the lyrics section, exclusives…. eh, just check the whole thing. Sign up to leave comments. Give me a shout if you’d like to see more on this site or if you see anything outta wack. I get a lot of requests to explain the meaning of songs - if this is true for you, leave me a comment to tell me the song lyrics you’d like featured and I will do so.

On to the EP! So here it is! “THE ART OF BROKEN GLASS” EP!!!!!!!! What’s an EP? A short album made by short people. About 6 months ago I was doing my usual youtube surf while eating breakfast, and I ran across this video of a guy in his bedroom banging on his MPC. The video hadn’t been up that long, but it already had 300k views. It was “Boonie Mayfield” and yep…dude was real ill. REAL ILL! I saw the first video, and then went on to his youtube channel (I recommend doing so) to see more. The first thing that hit me about this dude was his energy, and I don’t mean that in a “glow-stick raver” way (shout out to D.J. Sasha). I mean it in an “early 90’s I don’t need an 808 drum kick to make you feel me” way. I mean you can see it in the video - his beats come alive! I mean anyone can grab a dope sample and put a beat to it, anyone can hit the 808 pad a couple times. It’s rare, however, when a producer can make a sampled beat move with the same energy as a live band. (I heard Boonie Mayfield doesn’t quantize a thing.  He just puts it in live- at least on these 5 tracks.) Check out this video!

See? Word! Dude is alive. So yeah, it turned out that Boonie was from my hometown! “The Springs!”…That was it, that was all I needed to know. I got a hold of Boonie, told him I wanted to work with him…and that’s what happened. I was in the middle of figuring out what was going on with my new album, “Friends Enemies Apples Apples,” and I was so frustrated with the business of it all that I had to write, I had to record, I had to remind myself why I do this. So, I grabbed 5 beats from Boonie and went to work.

We recorded this album without quantizing, without separating tracks, without whining, and without a whole lotta money.  We just did it for the love of it all. The sound is gritty, low-end heavy, dusty, un-polished - as a project like this should be. Have a look and listen to the album in the Merchandise section. If you like what you hear please lend your support by adding it to your cart! Vote using your dollar - “…why the bad guys gotta make all the money?”- Joseph Medeiros (my father).

THANK YOU!