TO STATE OF MIND .COM - Sharing Toronto's Hip-Hop, Neighbourhoods, Politics and Culture

BlackBerry Photography: The most pointless escalator ever!

2012-01-19T06:57:00.000-08:00

The escalator leading from the mezzanine above the subway platforms to street level at Christie subway station.

Does anyone else find this absolutely insane? I used to play basketball once a week at the Bickford Centre a block from Christie subway station, and I always wondered what point there was to installing an escalator that an elderly person or a woman with a baby stroller had to climb four steps to reach. The last time I was down there I thought I'd snap a SwaggBerry pic for your enjoyment (if it's a bit out of focus, it's because I couldn't stop laughing).

The first promo spot for The Score's NBA Court Surfing

2012-01-14T16:03:00.000-08:00

Court Surfing: The 12th Letter from Brian Faraldo on Vimeo.

My homeboy's on national TV! Every year The Score does a hip-hop intro for NBA Court Surfing, it's Wednesday night NBA free-for-all in which they flip back-and-forth between several games at once. Past themes have featured beats by now-Grammy-dipped producer Boi-1da (@Boi1da) and now-signed-to-rap-legend-Raekwon's-IceH20-label rapper JD Era (@JDEra). This year's theme features my dude L (@Lthe12thLetter). I'll post the full theme when it's done.

BlackBerry Photography: Steve Stout(e)

2012-01-11T12:35:00.000-08:00

I swear I didn't stage this or touch anything! Nobody that knows me will believe me, but I swear I didn't LOL!

This is what I saw while walking across the futuristic '80s-era Progress Avenue bridge over McCowan on my way to Scarborough Town Centre today for lunch. Apparently someone needed the extra iron for their walk; or maybe they had a hot date in the food court and needed that legendary Dragon Stout power...

Anyway, there were Tim Horton's cups perched the same way further down the bridge, but this isn't exactly a blog for folks who watch hockey, read the Toronto Sun and call their friends bud, so the stout was more significant and blog-worthy.

(P.S. "Steve Stoute" is my newest slang for Dragon Stout, the beer of choice for me and the crew)

Ten Dollar Beer. No, seriously!

2012-01-09T15:44:00.000-08:00

This is what a $10 bottle of beer looks like... Phat shouts to my cousin Chad (@ChadTheBear) for the fresh Homeez hoodie

So I'm starting to act real fancy... I'm a beer drinker and I love stouts: Dragon Stout, Guinness, Dragon Stout, Royal Extra Stout and especially Dragon Stout. So I read about the award-winning limited edition Double Chocolate Cranberry Stout released by Muskoka Brewery in Ontario and thought I'd try it. I didn't know it'd cost TEN DOLLARS for a bottle (okay, it's a big bottle). Well, I bought it anyway... Baaaallin'!

My boy Paul really, REALLY wanted to show off his watch when I said I wanted a ceremonial picture of the perfect $10 beer pour. Git ya shine on bruh...

So the Double Chocolate Cranberry Stout was good, but in the end, at the same price as a SIX-PACK of my beloved Dragon Stout... well, you get the idea.

My favourite bus stop

2011-12-24T12:46:00.000-08:00

The view from the TTC bus stop at Victoria Park and O'Connor.

Anyone who knows me knows that I'm obsessed with the Toronto skyline. I discovered this sexy view of downtown T.O. from my neighbourhood since I started taking the TTC again. It makes me love taking the 70 O'Connor bus...

I hang out with a lot of rappers...

2011-12-22T10:11:00.000-08:00

...so at some point you had to know I'd be posting some music! This is my boy Ekko Effect's first video EVER, for his song "Knowledge Speaks Wisdom Listens."

The cover art for my dude Ekko Effect's first mixtape.

His first mixtape is also called Knowledge Speaks Wisdom Listens and it's dope. Fly beats, hot rhymes and real topics. Download it here.

Something about Black men you might not know...

2011-12-16T00:01:00.000-08:00

Yonge Street just south of Shuter at quarter-to-eleven on a Friday morning.

We will line up in the cold to get a proper haircut! Light rain, even, like last Friday when I took this flick.

Triston, my new barber. He and Onyx Barbers' classic barbershop basketball debates have been featured in television promo spots on The Score and he's also a hip-hop artist. Follow him: @TristonMaurice. And yeah, he can whip up a mean medium-top bald fade...

Branding the Toronto Hip-Hop Experience...

2011-12-14T13:24:00.000-08:00

Black Leaf Clothing, one of a new breed of dope Toronto urban clothing brands.

A lot of us are quite serious about our style. I don't think I'm the best-dressed cat out, but I try to make a statement with what I wear, either by dressing unabashedly hip-hop or by rocking stuff other than what every Foot Locker customer is wearing. Recently, I've become interested in Toronto urban brands, and because most of them are decidedly underground and not available in many stores, the best place to get them is at a flea market or pop-up shop.

It just so happens that my boy Taurean from Notaurious is doing a pop-down shop this Sunday at Community 54 in Parkdale! Toronto brands Ambush Apparel, Black Leaf, Doinitwell, Glass Hearts, Heartbeats T.O. and Nothin will be on sale, among others.

Here are some samples:

Doinitwell "Astro Black Men" Tee

Nothin Inc.

Heartbeats T.O. Men's Tee

So y'all know, I didn't post any of the stuff I'M planning on buying, 'cause I don't want too many people rocking my exclusives LOL! See you there (check the flyer below).

Putting the "Art" in "Party"

2011-12-09T00:17:00.000-08:00

Toronto artist Navin Monteiro at his exhibit and live painting at The Parkdale Drink on Queen St West and Dufferin.

My work Christmas party is poppin' off this weekend and I won't be hitting College Street, so here's what I did last weekend. The Parkdale Drink is the kind of bar I like; cool neighbourhood, good-looking crowd, Guinness and old-, medium- and new-school hip-hop and R&B. They are even cooler for injecting extra culture into their parties, including my cousin Dion Fitzgerald's art exhibits and live paintings on Nuit Blanche and year-round. This time Fitz invited another up-and-coming artist, my homeboy Navin Monteiro, to do his thing. He showed out!

Nav performs for the crowd...

...And the finished product.

Speaking My Truth at City Hall

2011-12-07T22:42:00.000-08:00

The view of Toronto City Hall outside of the public consultations for the City's 2012 Budget. That crowd on the left is watching a Catholic elementary school band perform "Frosty The Snowman."

I signed up to share my thoughts on Mayor Rob Ford's proposed 2012 city budget yesterday (Tuesday) at the Budget Committee's public consultations. I was 45th on a list of 348 Torontonians hoping to speak and according to last night's 11 p.m. news broadcasts, there are 250 or so presenters left to go on Wednesday.

It's sad that the process has taken a step back from last year, when Ford and the gang held four consultations over two evenings at civic centres in East York, North York, York and Scarborough. Trying to squeeze 300-plus citizens and their views into tiny Committee Room 1 over two days is not realistic, and proves that the Ford administration is not as interested in hearing from their constituents as they claim.

Chair of the City Council Budget Committee, Councillor Mike Del Grande, the touchiest politician ever (I call him Mike Del Grouch LOL). He kept complaining that if people kept going over their time and councillors kept questioning every speaker, they'd never get to most of the 348 people on the list. Councillor Shelley Carroll asked the next presenter if maybe the Budget Committee shouldn't have drafted a budget so terrible as to attract over 300 speakers. Del Grouch could only shake his head.

The core of City Council's "left wing," from the left Councillors Adam Vaughan, Gord Perks, Janet Davis, Sarah Doucette, along with Councillors Mary Fragedakis and Kristyn Wong-Tam in the row behind them.

A look at Committee Room 1 on the second floor of City Hall, filled with Toronto residents watching the political theatre and/or waiting to present

I enjoyed hearing what the 44 presenters before me thought about Rob Ford's proposed 2012 budget, and all but the first two disagreed with the budget's widespread cuts to services, cuts to city jobs and increases in user fees.

Here is the written version of my own presentation:

Good Afternoon. My name is Jeff Roulston and I work with kids in Scarborough. I had something prepared to say, but to avoid being repetitive, I'll address some issues in the proposed budget that relate to the young people I work with and their families.

First, though, I want to start by saying that the "Respect For Taxpayers" motto that the Mayor uses to guide everything this administration does, including the budget, is an insult to Torontonians. It suggests that you only respect some of us. Taxpayers. Howeowners, but not tenants. People with good jobs, but not unemployed people or those on welfare. Those you are leaving out are more likely to be women, people of colour, immigrants, seniors and youth.

So when you look at "Respect For Taxpayers" next to Toronto's REAL motto, "Diversity, Our Strength," your motto is sexist, racist and age-ist. It's un-Torontonian and un-Canadian. And so is this budget.

The TTC service cuts and fare hikes at the same time will greatly affect the youth I work with and their families. People from every socio-economic background use the TTC, but for the families of my kids there is no other option but to use the already crowded buses running through their Scarborough neighbourhoods. Less TTC service for more money will make their lives more difficult.

Community Partnership Investment Project (CPIP) grants for community and arts groups give disadvantaged kids opportunities that make their lives more like those of kids in middle- and upper-class neighbourhoods. Clawing back programs that make our diverse city more equitable is not good for the youth and families I work with or Toronto as a whole.

The proposed cuts to student nutrition and snack programs in schools would directly affect the vulnerable youngsters I work with. My co-workers and I do boys' and girls' groups in an elementary school during the period between morning recess and lunch. It is easy to see which kids are hungry, which ones didn't eat a proper breakfast or bring a snack. They are grouchy, disruptive and barely participate in the mostly fun activities we use to teach them social skills and increase their self-esteem. I can only imagine how unproductive they are when they return to class.

Allowing our children to go hungry and perform poorly in school is not cool, especially considering how much resources have been invested by volunteers and school boards. Cutting these programs is downright mean.

As a citizen of Toronto, I ask the the mayor and city council use the revenues and financial tools available and stop hiding revenues and exaggerating our financial challenges. Invest in the TTC, Children's and Social Services, Parks and Recreation, Roads, Libraries, Shelters and Housing, Tower Renewal and Building Inspections and the public service employees that make it all happen.

Thank you

***UPDATE***

The news cameras were mostly gone by the time I presented, but Toronto Star reporter Robyn Doolittle did mention my presentation in their live-blogging coverage and on Twitter (@robyndoolittle). Here's a screenshot...

Thanks Rob!

2011-12-05T17:33:00.000-08:00

A notice stuck on a bus stop in Scarborough after Rob Ford's cuts to TTC bus routes went into effect in May 2011. [Photo: Jeff The Writer]

If you've got pictures depicting the results of Mayor Rob Ford's policies, e-mail them to thanksrob@tostateofmind.com

The Coolest Commute Ever

2011-11-30T20:37:00.000-08:00

The northbound Scarborough RT train pulling into Lawrence East station

The Toronto Star recently published a series of stories about the TTC's 501 Queen Streetcar, one of the longest public transit routes in the world, and definitely one of Toronto's most interesting. But I'm lucky to have one of coolest commutes to work everyday, and that's because I get to ride the northbound Scarborough RT. East End Torontonians of my generation know exactly what I'm talking about: As soon as the dinky little subway into the heart of Scarborough was completed in the mid-'80s, it provided the city's graffiti artists with a legitimate audience.

I was testing out my dude Ekko's DSLR camera and thought I'd take some pics...

The view of the iconic "East Side" wall from the northbound platform at Lawrence East RT station. This mural is the first street art on the ride up the Scarborough RT and has become a symbol of both Scarborough and the RT.

The view of the "East Side" mural from the moving train. (Note: What's funny is that in Toronto we say "East END" and "West END," not "West SIDE.")

I just discovered this dope, complex piece since starting my new job, probably because you have to look back to see it when riding the train northbound. I always look out for it on my southbound trip home.

The "Native Scarboro" mural is the last one on the trip up the Scarborough RT, just before Scarborough Centre station where most riders get off. Classic stuff.

The last stop of the oh-so-'80s-futuristic Scarborough RT.

All West-Enders, 'Borough-fearing Downtowners and new Torontonians should take the RT graffiti tour even if Scarborough Town Centre's chain-store shopping turns your stomach. Check out all the crazy throw-ups, tags and downright vandalism in between the sexier, more respectable murals above... Just don't go during rush hour!

Review: Ian Kamau - One Day Soon

2011-10-17T23:54:00.000-07:00

Labels in Hip-Hop, like in anything else, can be misleading. Being labeled a "conscious rapper" can doom an artist to both a rep as a softie and to mainstream anonymity and commercial insignificance. But there is nothing weak about Ian Kamau, his art and his activism or the subjects he tackles in his rhymes.

While most rappers in Toronto and south of the border stick to the well-worn path of raps about crack, brand names, bottles and models, Kamau dares to tell true stories about life in our communities, not some exaggerated criminal past or unrealistic, luxurious fantasy.

The real world is a hard one in which neither crime nor a university degree pays and on his debut album One Day Soon, Kamau uses his spoken word delivery to tell these difficult truths, while expressing hope in his people's power to make change. In the late '90s hip-hop tried to gloss over gangsta rap as "reality rap," but Kamau's disc is more deserving of that label than any G-Funk Era hit.

On One Day Soon's opener "Heading Home," he balances those truths with hope, rapping, "The hardest of roads we walk, untraveled/The way we made the world it unraveled/So now the balance is skewed/we were fooled, like lambs to the slaughter."

He explores our immigrant parents' quest to create community in Canada in "The Village," One Day Soon's first video, rhyming, "It takes one to raise a child/And it's hard to be here, but we're staying a while/with the wind at our faces, and cold in our bones/So we still have a problem with calling this home."

The Village Trailer (One Day Soon) from Ian Kamau on Vimeo.

The album's best track is "Black Bodies," a scathing criticism of those playing the gangster role--"So now we love the ghetto/We think it's our home/The streets are our kingdom/The corner our throne," and the true perpetrators of black-on-black violence: "A shame/Every day another name to discuss/Flood the streets with their guns and they blame it on us." If "Black Bodies" is familiar, it's because it includes lines from Kamau's epic, crowd-stunning a cappella performance at the 2008 ManifesTO festival, as does the aforementioned "Heading Home."

Kamau speaks on love and relationships on "Now That I'm Alone" and "In Love Again" without mentioning Victoria's Secret panties or red-bottoms once. He also tests out his voice on the funky, happy "Hopes & Dreams" and the jerk-flavoured "Traffic" before finishing with the 44-second outro "Renaissance" and probably the truest statement of the entire album: "we'll never have a Renaissance if we speak about a movement and refuse to move."

For those of us who know Kamau from his thought-provoking poems and 16's on Shad's The Old Prince and Juno-winning TSOL albums, One Day Soon is a long overdue success well worth the wait. It is intelligent; musically dope and everything that hip-hop should be, without being confined by what we think hip-hop should be.

The Lost Episode of "The Office"

2011-09-26T11:52:00.000-07:00

[I've decided to return TO STATE OF MIND .COM to its humble origins as my personal blog sharing stories of a young black man in Toronto; his music, his work, his city and his culture. So I thought I'd dig up one of my popular 2007 posts on my struggles with Canada's corporate culture. Thankfully I've found a career I love outside the corporate world, so I can look back at this very true story and laugh...]

So I'm looking for a new job. Again. And it's depressing to think that I may end up in another call centre with the rest of Toronto's young black population--educated or uneducated. It's as if the majority of us are not allowed to progress past the telephone customer service departments of Toronto's major corporations. Maybe I'm crazy, but I think I may have figured out why. They ("The Man," "The Establishment," etc.) don't think young black people can be professional. Here's a story to illustrate my point:

Starting in January, I began a call centre job with one of Canada's biggest banks, along with many young black people and members of other visible minorities that are a staple of Toronto's call centre workforce. This was an outbound position, but I thought it would be different, as the company seemed surprisingly customer-focused, sometimes running campaigns specifically designed to save clients on banking fees or reduce the amount of mail they receive from us. We were taught to inform clients that we were calling because our company had made a commitment to its clients to stay in touch and meet all of their financial needs.

It turned out that we stayed in touch way too often, only to push credit and insurance products to generate revenue for the bank. This was accomplished under the guise of this new commitment to put clients first, as we often found ways to save them a few meager dollars on their already-overpriced services before diving in for the kill. "This coverage will protect your family's lifestyle and such-and-such and to add it for you I need only to confirm your address and date-of-birth," and so-on and so-on.

Needless to say, many clients did not respond well. My manager, a white dude we'll call "Bob," told me not to take the constant yelling, screaming, bitching, cursing and name-calling personally. If anything they're not mad at you, Bob would say, they're mad at the company. Not true, I'd reply, because when I worked at inbound call centres where people called in for help with their problems, they'd be yelling because they're mad at the company. In this outbound call centre, they are mad at me because they don't want me calling them in the first place. Bob would just shake his head, he couldn't fool me.

Anyway, I'm a 6-foot-5, 270-pound black man who (I'm told) scowls a lot, so I'm not used to being talked to any old way, and the abuse on the phone each day took its toll on me. Eventually I began to tell smart ass customers that if they could handle their own affairs like they said, then they wouldn't owe us thousands in credit card bills, they wouldn't be paying service fees for using too many banking transactions each month and they wouldn't have had five late mortgage payments in the last year.

My new resolve to put mouthy, ungrateful clients in their place did not go over well with Bob, instead it earned me a sit-down with him about professionalism.

After telling me how great I'd been doing lately--which I wasn't-- and how much my numbers were improving--which they weren't--Bob got down to business. He'd listened to a few of my calls, he said, and they were great. But at times, he said, he could hear 'that whole street thing' come out of me. He could even picture me 'swaying from side to side' as I was speaking, he said, leaning in and nodding as if looking for my approval.

Street thing? Swaying from side to side? What the f*** was that supposed to mean?

I sat stonefaced and said nothing, letting him finish his tips on professionalism, but I thought about it a lot later. First of all, Bob chose his communication with me based on my book's cover--I'm black--instead of getting to know me and my communication style. Second of all, Bob assumed that, because I'm black, I'm from "the streets" and that's what "came out of me" to cause me to act un-professional.

But I'm not really from "the streets" am I? Yes, I grew up in Toronto within walking distance of two or three housing projects and yes, I have close friends who are in prison and/or hustling. But I went away to college and got a degree and have been working steadily for years. Street people don't work. They're stick-up artists, squeegie kids and drug-dealers.

Could it be that Bob was mistaken? Could it be that it wasn't "the streets" that came out of me but my blackness? The same blackness I've always tried to hide on the phone because the average bank client from Antigonish, Nova Scotia or Red Deer, Alberta would freak if they knew a ni**er from Toronto was looking at their banking information?

Is it that blackness that Bob found unprofessional? I mean, he's a white guy who grew up in the suburbs, so his only real knowledge of black people might be what he sees on television: A bunch of us being led out of public housing townhouses in cuffs after another pre-dawn raid on gang members. Or sprawling to make a spectacular catch in the endzone and breaking out in the chickenhead dance. Or slapping bitches asses and bragging about how much our jeans and/or rims cost in a music video on BET.

I guess he would think we're unprofessional and the rest of the white corporate world would as well. That's why my co-worker got promoted up out of that call centre at the same big bank to work in their offices downtown and she's the only young black person in her department.

So as I said, I'm looking for a new job. Again.

Review: Shaun Boothe - Waiting Room

2011-08-06T14:44:00.000-07:00

We've been waiting on Shaun Boothe's album for a long time. The artist formerly known as Rikoshay spoke with TO STATE OF MIND .COM on the set of his "Poor Boy" video way back in 2009 and told us to look out for his upcoming joint. It is fittingly titled Waiting Room and is now available for download on his website shaunboothe.com.

The opening track "Still Waiting" sets the tone for Shaun's choice of beats with soul samples that come out cool and not dated or thrown into that early-2000s-Kanye West basket. "Do It For You" featuring Kim Davis has another sexy soul sample accompanied by honest raps ("They say there's no money in music/So you should know I do it for you") and Kim Davis' amazing voice.

The remix to "Let Me Go," which is probably Shaun's biggest hit, features Atlanta rapper CyHi Da Prince, a signee to Kanye West's G.O.O.D. Music. Cyhi definitely adds to the track, with its familiar bass and soulfully-voiced hook that has taken the video [below] into the MuchMusic Countdown's Top 20.

"One Side" has a bassy, electronica-y beat and kicks off with, of course, a soul sample. Shaun waxes philosophical about women not trusting him in relationships and the real-life struggles of his people: "My cousin needs a job and she says 'Shaun I'm 'bout to give up/I got all these degrees, but all they see is a nigga."

"Phone Sex" is a sexy, hilarious and then even sexier concept song set to a sample of "Sounds Like a Love Song" by Bobby Glenn (the same sample used in Jay-Z's "Song Cry"). "1 2 3" is Boothe's newest single and features another ATL rapper, STS. They both work the beat's loud, jazzy horns and bassy bottom, Shaun rapping that he's enrolled in "the school of hard knocks/full course load," and STS claiming "Boothe got next/I got now/Beat like this, I'ma wear that out."

"Get A Job" is another concept song, Boothe's specialty, this time about all the different careers he chose hip-hop over, and "Headline" is a deeply honest joint about the pain and yearning on the road to hip-hop success or failure. Waiting Room also features past Shaun Boothe hits "Music Man," "Poor Boy (Remix)" featuring Kardinal Offishall and "Concepts" featuring Talib Kweli.

Shaun Boothe's first official full-length release is enjoyable but real, polished but not glossy. It has a cohesive sound, with soul-and-bass beats that flow together well, none feeling out of place. He's not hyper-lyrical, but his rhymes are solid, his flow rides any beat nicely and he says cool shit like "Oh, your shoes match your shirt/That's fire/My actions match my words/That's fly-er," and real shit like "my emotions are mixed, not mastered."

Waiting Room is definitely required listening in your car speakers on any Toronto street, in your headphones on those new TTC subways and out of the boombox at your summer barbecue.

Shaun Boothe - Let Me Go (Official Video)

Review: The Weeknd - House of Balloons

2011-07-14T23:40:00.000-07:00

House of Balloons is a classic debut at a time when many of the best debut “albums” appear on Mediafire and UserShare instead of in HMV or Best Buy. Toronto’s The Weeknd, the one-man R&B act made up of 20-year old Abel Tesfaye, is surrounded by mystery as much as he is by industry- and blogosphere-buzz.
His mixtape appeared online back in March with exactly zero label push, but he’s gotten looks from every major music website, been nominated for Canada’s prestigious Polaris Prize and is confirmed to be featured “a bunch” on Drake’s sophomore LP Take Care. His only video, for “What You Need,” was not even authorized by Tesfaye himself, but has caught fire online anyway.

But despite the building hype, the music is still the best part about The Weeknd.

The first track, “High For This,” sets the tone for the whole project, as the smooth airy vocals and contradictory rough bass-lines and drums are representative of The Weeknd’s sound throughout. The aforementioned “What You Need” may be the standout cut on the album and is the first one on Balloons that may take you back to your late-90s love-affair with everything made by the Devante Swing-Timbaland-Aaliyah camp.

"House of Balloons-Glass Table Girls" picks up the tempo but stays very sexy. When the beat switches up halfway through, Tesfaye responds by busting some raps, just to show that he can.

"The Morning" feels real Southern with its blues guitar riffs that give way to bass and hi-hats, while "Wicked Games" pairs grungy rock elements with R&B soul vocals for a slow, emotional, but neck-breaking joint.

"The Party & The Afterparty" sounds like it could be a pop song, but still feels so anti-mainstream. The melodies and simple songwriting are so accessible but the hardness of the production cancels out any shininess. The Weeknd appears to be creating a new category of underground R&B: so soulful, but grimy at the same time.

All in all, Balloons is more about the sound than the lyrics. Tesfaye's subject matter is a lot like his collaborator Drake's: music about the music lifestyle. The spotlight; the fast life; sex, drugs and R&B. But his sound is realer, grittier and less radio-friendly than Aubrey's, and more grown, although Tesfaye is only 20.

The Weeknd has accomplished a lot already. Next up: choosing a record label that can handle his non-traditional style and maybe grabbing some radio spins on his hometown station. We'll also see what kind of performer he is when he hits the stage for the first time at The Mod Club on July 24. It should be something of a coming out party.

Hip-Hop and the Juno Awards

2011-07-07T21:34:00.000-07:00

[I wrote this article waaay back for my blog on MySpace... MySpace! Thought I'd add it to the Classics I've been throwing up on the revamped TO STATE OF MIND .COM. Enjoy!]

Rappers' distaste for awards shows is nothing new. American artists from Ol' Dirty Bastard ("Wu-Tang is for the children!") to Kanye West ("Pamela Anderson was in it!") have staged live--and somewhat embarrassing award show protests.

In Canada, where we are always a step behind in race-relations, not much is different. The Rascalz won the Juno for Best Rap Recording in 1998 and refused to accept it because the award wasn't presented on the televised part of the ceremony. In Point Blank's latest single "Born N Raised In The Ghetto Remix," Stump rhymes, "Never been robbed/'Cept for a Much Video Award."

The problem is there's still only one category for rap, with no separate awards for albums and singles, and on top of that, the R&B/Soul Recording of the Year award often includes non-urban artists as nominees. Though a few artists of colour have managed to slip into the major categories, like k-os' (2003) and Belly's (2008) nominations for Best New Artist, there aren't many opportunities for our community to get much shine.

But do the Junos still hold weight with the artists? Do they even care?

"I would think the Junos are relevant for the amount of exposure they can provide to an artist," says Arlo Maverick of Edmonton's Politic Live. He and his partners have been nominated for awards in the past, including a Western Canada Music Award and most recently a Canadian Music Week Indie Award.

"It opens the doors for VideoFACT and Factor grants, allows for more touring opportunities, raises an artist's profile and even increases video rotation."

Toronto's JD Era agrees wholeheartedly, saying he looks forward to the Junos and hopes to eventually win one.

"Even though urban music isn't represented the way we want it to be, it's still the only award ceremony that covers every genre across the country," Era said via his MySpace page.

"And I can charge more for a show the minute my name says 'Juno award-winning' beside it," he adds, always on the paper chase.

The Politic Live frontman doesn't let the Canadian Academy off the hook entirely though. He points out that for artists out west, just getting a nomination is an uphill struggle, citing strong albums from Van-City veterans Moka Only and Red 1, Edmonton duo Touch & Nato, Peg City's Grand Analog and his own crew's Adaptation, none of which got a nod.

"What criterion is being used? Is it music quality, personal taste or buzz?" Mav asks. "If it's buzz then we all can agree that Western Canadian hip-hop artists don't receive as much attention from media outlets as our counterparts from the East. The irony of that statement is that our hip-hop counterparts from the East aren't getting much media attention to begin with."

Arlo Maverick has mostly positive things to say about the Junos though, and there'll be no awards show protests from the Prince of the North either.

"I can boycott the Juno's after I win one," Era laughs (out loud).

So who's going to grab the hardware this year? Arlo Maverick like's London, Ontario's native son.

"My vote is with Shad," Young Mav says. "[Shad's LP] The Old Prince is solid from start to finish."

Shad's touring partner Classified definitely makes a great case as well, but we'll know when the 2008 Juno Awards air on CTV on April 6.

The Hip-Hop Contradiction (TOstateofmind.com Post #100!)

2010-10-18T12:38:00.000-07:00

I have a love-hate relationship with Hip-Hop.

For me, one of the first allures of hip-hop music was its abrasiveness. The first two rap songs I ever memorized were Snoop Doggy Dogg's "Gin and Juice" and Ol' Dirty Bastard's "Shimmy Shimmy Ya." Snoop's explicit stories over that G-Funk and ODB's non-sensical ramblings over those two dirty piano notes were so rebellious. For God's sake, the guy's name was Ol' Dirty Bastard! And where were you the first time you heard "Shook Ones Part II?" I don't remember for sure, but I guarantee that I did something wild that day, maybe started a fight for no reason or shoplifted my lunch from William's Convenience at the corner of Pape and Cosburn. That hardcore element of the music spoke to the rebelliousness of those of us that came of age in the 1990's the same way that wearing plaid and not showering spoke to white kids that overdosed on Kurt Cobain in the same time period.

I really got into hip-hop on the second day of grade 10 at my new high school when I grabbed my brother's Walkman, hoping to look cool in the hallways where I knew almost no one. I hadn't even looked to see what was in there, and it turned out to be Nas' new It Was Written cassette. The first three songs blew me away, but his classic "I Gave You Power" concept song showed me how intensely lyrical hip- hop could be, even while telling a story, or an epic screenplay on wax, if you will. Working my way backwards to Nas' debut Illmatic, which is still the best 38 minutes in the history of hip-hop, I decided that I would never settle for anything less than mind-unraveling lyricism. Guru, Big L and Common fed my appetite for notable quotables while Biggie, Mobb Deep and Raekwon combined the two schools of rap, impressing me with thugged-out, thinking-man's hip-hop.

But I never fully understood the true power of hip-hop until I got into the music of one Tupac Shakur. More than any other artist he is representative of hip-hop's various qualities and shortcomings, both uplifting and depressing, positive and negative, abrasive, lyrically athletic and political all at once. 'Pac showed with tracks like "Brenda's Got A Baby," "Keep Ya Head Up," "Dear Mama" and even "Hail Mary" and "Hellrazor" that hip-hop can have a message. It can speak on poverty, racism, sexism and even fight back against negativity in today's music. One of the best post-'Pac examples of music with a politically-charged message is dead prez's debut Let's Get Free. Going into my freshman year of college DP put my mind on a completely different intellectual level while encouraging me to fight back against redneck cops, do something for my community and still invite all my high school teachers to "suck my dick!" For so long hip-hop had been about partying, being fresh, gangbanging or about hip-hop itself, 'Pac and DP showed me that hip-hop could be about SOMETHING.

Since the beginning of Canadian hip-hop history there have been artists in all of these categories. Maestro ("the hip-hop tic-tac-tician") could spit with the best of 'em and move the crowd at any 90's basement jam, while Drake, Classified and Adam Bomb can out-rap anyone on the radio as well. Point Blank's hit "Thin Line 2002" is probably my favourite Toronto hip-hop song ever, with its moody, minor- scale piano riffs and boastful hood tales and there is no shortage of Canadian artists glamourizing what's happening in their townhouse complex with the brown fences. Shad, everyone's favourite young'un outta London, Ontario, is bringing back positivity to hip-hop and speaking out against society's (and hip- hop's) negativity at the same time. He battles stereotypes on "Brother (Watching)," pokes fun at hip-hop materialism on "The Old Prince Still Lives At Home" and beams with family pride on "A Good Name."

So does a true hip-hop head only accept one type of hip-hop? If so which type? Old-school, boom-bap, syllable-counting, rhyme-scheme-flipping lyricism? Textbook-critiquing, black-gloved-fist-raising, political raps? Or grimy, shoot -'em-up, East Coast hood narratives?

There is no right answer.

To be hip-hop is to be a contradiction. It is the world's most schizoprenic culture, full of artists that can't decide who they really are. So we ask Nas, is it "Black Girl Lost" or shorty owe you for ice? And we ask 'Pac, is it no wonder why they call women bitches, or do we tell them to "Keep Ya Head Up?" And Drizzy, was she the best you ever had, or do you just wanna hit it from the back until her f***in' bra strap pops?

I refuse to divide and fragment hip-hop any further than it already has been. I don't wanna have to choose between the hardcore shit and the tongue-twisting lyricists and the kufi-wearing thinkers. I want to enjoy my boy L. spitting "I GZA on a hoe and tell her Proteck Ya Neck" as much as Shad imploring more women to rap ("We're only getting half the view of the world"). I want to hear as much about Drake's "Fear" as his threesomes ("I don't like my women single/I like my chicks in twos"). And of course I want to hear Shad rap in his role as "the underdog spazzin' on a track" ("Yaa I Get It").

But if your music isn't real, isn't about anything AND you can't rap... Sorry son, you gets no love.

Mean Streets? Sensationalizing Toronto's social problems

2009-08-30T10:56:00.000-07:00

"Too much po-po on road/Phone calls on hold/Mistakes untold/One too many people in the hole/Isolated from they goals..." -Stump of Point Blank, "Thin Line 2002"

It's a bright Sunday morning in Toronto, easily the safest city its size on this side of the world, and what plops on your doorstep?
The Sunday Sun and its special report on crime with the heading "MEAN STREETS." Now let's be real, T.O. has its problems. I didn't grow up in one of the "13 troubled neighbourhoods" profiled in this report, and I still know quite a few people who've been murdered, shot or whatever and I've got many friends stuck on the wrong side of the law, lost in a world of drug-dealing, robbery and prostitution. But Toronto just isn't the wild wild west the Sun would have you--and out-of-town readers and tourists visiting the city--to believe. Look at the first few lines of the story.

"On any given day, the piercing shriek of police sirens echo through Toronto's neighbourhoods. In some, it's background noise. Knife fights, robberies, gang violence, drug busts, gunfire, sexual assaults, even murder if not routine are common.

Besides that, the headlines on the first page of the report read "Cleaning up the streets" and "High levels of poverty, unemployment." The map of Toronto's priority neighbourhoods on the following page includes a cute little graphic of a handgun and some ecstasy pills along with crime statistics for each 'hood.

I would like to know what purpose this kind of journalism serves. Does the Sun want to scare tourists and 905ers from visiting our beautiful city? Is it to make residents of T.O.'s so-called troubled neighbourhoods feel bad about themselves? Maybe it is some type of editorial aimed at the city, province and federal governments, a way to call attention to our problems and force those in power to shell out the resources to fix them. I highly doubt it's the latter.

The funny thing is if you read the entire story on the first page of the special, buried in the body of the article is useful information and critique of programs already in place for solving the city's crime problems. Turn the page to the next part of the special report and the headlines are suddenly sunnier: "They are making a difference," "Cash doesn't solve all the problems, but it helps," "Acting for change" and "Breaking the stigma of Jane-Finch." The bold encouraging words sit atop well-written stories about what the police, governments, school boards, public housing landlords, community groups and the communities themselves are doing to effect change in their neighbourhoods. You might even call it pretty damn good journalism.

This begs the question: why weren't those nice stories the focus of the report? Did they not warrant a big front-page headline? I guess positivity just doesn't sell newspapers. At least not to Sun readers.

Anyway, I happened to log on to the Toronto Star website's Toronto & GTA section and I found a very different view of Toronto. Two articles, "Toronto, our metropolis of small but proud villages" and "We define ourselves by our neighbourhoods," describe our city as one of distinct neighbourhoods with historic names, vibrant communities and unique cultures, not just city council wards and census tracts with robbery and assault statistics. That's the T.O. I know.

Peace...

A Pair of Nikes, A Ball and a Dream...

2009-07-15T12:01:00.001-07:00

“Yeah I got on sneaks but I need a new pair/ ‘cause basketball courts in the summer got girls there” –Fresh Prince, “Summertime,” 1991

I read a great story about shinny hockey in Toronto sometime last year (http://www.eyeweekly.com/features/article/15825) and I was inspired to write a corresponding story about summer basketball and pitch it to eye weekly. I wrote most of it in one sitting but I never finished it. The weather yesterday (and hearing Jazzy Jeff and Fresh Prince’s classic “Summertime” on the radio) inspired me to touch it up and post it. Here it is:

* * *

As a youngster, I remember kneeling on my living room couch in the afternoon, watching for other kids riding past my parents’ duplex on BMX bikes or walking by bouncing orange rubber balls. You see, kids on the other end of the neighbourhood had to pass my house on the way to basketball court and when at least six or seven had passed, I knew there were enough players for a game. I’d then grab my own grey Wilson ball, knock on my neighbour’s door and the two of us would make our way down the block and around the corner to Roywood Park, trying to dribble the ball back-and-forth in between our legs the whole way.

We’d run full court games or play common streetball games like “American” or “21” until the high school-aged kids would take over the court. Even though I was big for a twelve-year-old, I’d have to grab a spot of pavement and watch. Eastern Commerce’s Jamaal Magloire (now of the NBA Miami Heat, and a distant cousin of mine, though I didn’t know at the time) might be there with a couple of his friends from Flemingdon Park, and most of the players from nearby Victoria Park Secondary’s top ten-ranked squad were there every day: Derek Parker, Jon Reid, Marvin Dennis. I idolized all of them.

Eventually, after a five-inch growth spurt, I was allowed to run with the high-schoolers and I developed into a pretty good player, but by the time I was 17, most of the competition in my ’hood had dried up, so I got a student Metropass and jumped on TTC, hopping out when I saw a basketball court. The 54 Lawrence East took me to Jack Goodlad on Kennedy Road and to Orton Park deeper into Scarborough. The 501 Queen streetcar got me downtown to Moss Park and St Paul’s Catholic School. The 25 Don Mills carried me north of Highway 401 to St. Timothy’s Catholic School, Parkway Forest Park and Havenbrook, a private court with insanely high rims that hadn’t been paved in so long that a friend once said, “The rocks are so big there, you can jump off of them and dunk.”

The next winter I spent a week staying with my oldest brother in Malvern and walked to the Malvern Recreation Centre (“The Rec”) every night to play ball. It was, and still is, the only place in T.O. that I’ve heard of where young people can play basketball for free five nights a week. Anyway, I was talking to a cat there and he told me I was pretty good and that I should play against the best competition in the city to see how I stacked up. He said that the best player our age in the city was “Shep,” Jamaal Magloire’s half-brother Justin Shepherd who had just transferred to Eastern Commerce from Oakwood Collegiate. I had heard of him from a homeboy who watched him throw down dunks on three or four straight possessions and score thirty-something points at a junior tournament game. The guy told me Shep was from St. Jamestown and there was a wicked court there that Nike had just built.

So when summer arrived I found myself in St. J, a neighbourhood of 18 high rise buildings in 3 city blocks ranked as the most densely populated census tract in North America. The court is precariously perched on Bleecker Street in between the four St. Jamestown buildings owned by Toronto Housing, and I recognized it by the Nike “swooshes” on the backboards. There was a game going on and I asked some players on the sideline who had next game. They ignored me and kept talking amongst themselves. “Are you guys running or no?” I asked. They looked at me like I was nuts. I looked around and saw the homeless man sleeping on a concrete bench, the two or three spectators banging down cans of beer and the guys outside the building stairwell with baggy jeans and heavy hoodies in the dead of July. I thought for a moment, looked around again and put my ball back in my bag and walked back to Sherbourne subway station. It wasn’t poppin’. Later my best friend and high school teammate told me a similar story about trying to get a game at the court in St. J, and we figured we’d stick to courts in North York and Scarborough where we had already established a rep. Sadly, the following summer Shep would be shot dead on a foot bridge about a block from the basketball court where he made his name. A week earlier he had accepted a scholarship from an American prep school where he could improve his grades and up his basketball stock in the U.S. He was only 19.

The same dude from the Rec in Malvern had told me about the Harbourfront court at Bathurst and Queens Quay. He said it had the best players in the city and it had spring-loaded rims like a college or NBA court has. The first time I went there I was amazed that there would even be a basketball court in such a nice neighbourhood. But the court was small and it looked like they were playing four-on-four instead of teams of five. When I looked closer though, I realized that there were a lot more tall people than at a regular court and almost everyone was wearing gear from some American college. One dude was wearing Canadian national team shorts. I recognized guys I’d seen in the high school sports pages like Vidal Massiah and heard people pointing out other high school and playground legends like “Poncho” and “Shaq.”

It was like heaven, a place where a good performance a few weeks in a row would cement your rep as one of the best hoopers in town, or at least as a hooper. And there were so many guys out there trying to make a name that if you lost, you were waiting for hours to get another run. When I finally got in a game, the big names that matched up with me would guard me passively, not knowing who I was, so I made them look like fools. I played hard, dribbling circles around lazy defenders, stealing the ball for breakaway dunks and hitting jumpshots when guys left me wide open. I felt like I had made it. I didn’t become famous and no one cheered or clapped or even asked my name, but for the two summers that I hit up Harbourfront, someone would recognize me and remember I was good and I would always get in a game.

After my sophomore year at college in Alabama, when I started to spend my summers down there, I would drive by beautiful outdoor courts that were completely empty. I asked locals that I knew why no one played on all those courts. “Are you crazy?” they’d ask, “It’s hot as hell out here in the summer!” Everyone played indoors in air-conditioned gyms instead, a rare luxury in Toronto. I played a whole lot of ball during those summers, and my knees didn’t hurt as much as they did playing outdoors, but I definitely missed walking around the corner to Roywood Park, busing it to Kennedy and Lawrence or riding the streetcar to Harbourfront. Those days, basketball was my life.

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