The OV’s lyrical analyst Brett Sisun textually pours some out for the rose that grew from concrete, hip-hop legend Tupac Shakur. Pac’s spirit lives on through his thug-life anthem “Life Goes On”

words BRETT SISUN
art CHELSEY BOEHNKE

Here at the crossroads between life and death lies Tupac Shakur. Rightfully so. Shakur was a mystic creator and divine wellspring in the development of the lyric arts. His legend has become more significant in the American music scape than he could have imagined while growing up in the violent whirlwinds of Harlem, Baltimore and the Bay Area during the mid-1980’s. Against forces obsessed with greed, power, and death, Shakur found a new form of expression in reflecting the realities of “thug life” in modern America.

In the past my section has been dedicated to analyzing the diction of famous rappers; to point out their imaginative or sloppy use of the English Language, and, basically, get a laugh out of their work. But I wouldn’t feel right doing that now. Yes, I’m tired of the gimmick and the ironic tone. I think there is something more important at stake here in “Life Goes On”:

“How many Niggas fell victim to the streets? Rest in peace young Nigga there’s a heaven for a G.”

Tupac Amaru Shakur was born in East Harlem, the son of two radical Black Panther activists. His name, Tupac Amaru, comes from the name of a Peruvian general who led a failed revolution against the Spanish conquistadors in 1780. His mother Afeni says that he was named for “the last Inca chief to be tortured, brutalized, and murdered by Spanish conquistadores…a warrior.”

From an early age Shakur was a reflective and creative mind. He attended the Baltimore School of the Arts for 2 years, was an avid reader, poetry writer and even starred in a high school production of The Nutcracker. When he left his single mother at age seventeen for the West coast, a new world surrounded him, one obsessed with violence, death, and race. Shakur’s experiences there had a profound impact on his art and would eventually become the “thug lifestyle” portrayed in “Life Goes On”:

“Be a lie, if I told ya that I never thought of death, my Niggas, we tha last ones left.”

The chorus of “Life Goes On” is a simple and sentimental reflection of Tupac’s solitude. In his community people had little access to wealth, education, and social empowerment, and thus were likely to run into trouble with the law. He is keenly aware of this oppression in his music. He refers to his people as “Niggas,” an endearing derivative of the N-word once used by plantation owners in early American history. In reforming and using this word, Shakur counters and explains its meaning. According to “Man Man,” one of Tupac’s closest friends: “I never could have had that word tattooed on me before, but Pac said, ‘We’re going to take that word that they used and turn it around on them…to make it positive.’” A polarizing word by design, this is a clear example of Shakur’s character. He turns hardship and bigotry into something more meaningful that anyone, even outside his own community, can understand. This lyrical confrontation with social issues became a defining aspect of the “thug lifestyle”:

“2 in tha morning and we still high-assed out, screamin’ ‘thug till I die’ before I passed out, but now that you’re gone, I’m in the zone thinking ‘I don’t want die all alone.’”

Shakur’s first albums, 2pacolypse Now (1991) through Me Against the World (1995), spoke to an enormous number of people, some of whom lived the “thug life” and others who indulged in its edgy style. This popularity caught the attention of Death Row Records’ executive Marion “Suge” Knight. Notorious for his brute mentality and violent intimidation tactics, Knight wanted Shakur on his label in order to package and sell the “thug life” in musical units. After a stint in jail for assault charges, Shakur was bailed out by Knight in exchange for a recording deal. Knight picked up Shakur in a stretch limousine and flew him in a private jet to Knight’s L.A. studio. The inner city gangster shook hands with the multi-billion dollar record industry. Rap music, and Shakur’s life, would never be the same.

“Give me a paper and a pen, so I can write about my life of sin, a couple bottles of gin, in case I don’t get in.”

“Life Goes On” appears on Shakur’s first album with Death Row Records, All Eyez on Me (1996) which went 9x Platinum and sold over 5 million units by 1998. Written and recorded in less than 2 weeks, it is widely regarded as one of the greatest rap albums of the 1990’s. The songs on the album reach into the hidden emotional aspects of the “gangster”, and reveal the unmistakable change that death incurs on those who live on with its memory. Shakur ironically describes his own death in the song and how it should be celebrated:

“Bury me smilin’, with G’s in my pocket, have a party at my funeral, let every rapper rock it, let tha hoes that I used to know, from way before, kiss me from my head to my toe.”

On the night of September 7th, 1996, Shakur helped assault Orlando “Baby Lane” Anderson, a member of L.A.’s Southside Compton Crips, in the lobby of the MGM Grand after a Mike Tyson-Bruce Seldon fight. After leaving the MGM, parked at a red light, Shakur was shot four times in a drive by while in the passenger seat of Knight’s BMW. Knight survived the attack, but Shakur died from internal bleeding in the hospital September 13, 1996. His wish for a rocking party funeral would not be granted. He was mysteriously cremated days after his death, and little investigation followed into his murder.
“Pour out some liquor, have a toast for tha homies, see we both gotta die but you chose to go before me.”

Following Tupac Shakur’s death, as Knight battled the abandonment of his artists, parole violations, and jail time, The Death Row Records Empire crumbled. Shakur’s spirit, however, lived on through his enormous and dedicated fan base, who celebrated his death as martyrdom. Myths arose about him still being alive and, in almost biblical fashion, predicted his resurrection back into the world. Regardless of these rumors, he died living the life he always preached would kill him and, in doing so, validated his life’s work. In his own words, his message is clearest:
“If you can’t find somethin’ to live for, you best find somethin’ to die for…”

“That’s right baby, life goes on…”

interview NOAH DEWITT

Oregon Voice: It sounds like you come from a pretty “groovy” background.

Henry Church: You’re talking to the dude with tie-dye sneakers.

OV: How did you go from studying shamanism at NYU to being in this band?

Mickey Church: Yeah, it’s always interesting talking about it in hindsight because to me it was always separate. Shamanistic ritual kind of was happenstance. My advisor was the teacher of shamanistic ritual at NYU, so I just decided to take a course that my advisor was teaching, not even knowing what it was… Because he happened to be a Ph.D. in shamanism, or whatever you want to call it, and he was a shamanista himself, I took the class and really connected with it and connected with him. On the first day of school, it was a bunch of nervous kids who are in New York City for the first time, and we’re sitting in this classroom for our first class of our first day. And the teacher is nonexistent. And 10 minutes go by. Fifteen minutes go by. And after 15 minutes, this crazy guy bursts through the door, covered in dust with a  doctor’s mask on and a flashlight on his head, with his friend who had these crazy, piercing blue eyes, who’s also covered in dust. And he says, “True story, true story: We just got back from Burning Man. True story: Janis Joplin was in eagle form flying over the RV the entire way home.

By the next class a lot of the kids had dropped it, like, “I’m spending my tuition money on this?” But the people who stayed in the class are some of the only people that I became friends with in the entire university for the entire four years I was there.

That’s just one thing that happened that led me a certain way, but it could have easily not gone that way.

OV: What about your name? Is it an archery thing, or is it more like a computer mouse white arrow?

MC: It’s actually neither, or both if you guys want it to be. It’s just abstract, and whatever meaning it had when we came up with it — it’s kind of always changing based on what people assume it is or ask what it is. So I kind of like to keep it as abstract and free-formed as possible. If people want to take it literally, they can.

OV: I know you two are brothers. Are you all family?

MC: J.P.’s a half-brother by blood. We’re like cousins. And we all met through friends, and it was pretty kismet. Like how rare is it to find people, especially later in life, who are all on the same page as you. It’s like past the age of 16, I’ve made maybe 10 friends in my life, two of which happen to be likeminded individuals who want to play a similar kind of music and have the same outlook on life and the journey.

OV: How written are your songs when you step into the studio? Because your songs are really intensely produced.

MC: We write as we record. It’s all home studio stuff.

Andrew Naeve: We just write and record, and what needs to be rerecorded later, we’ll touch up after the song is written. We’ve probably recorded vocals like three different times, before just tossing it and starting over.

JPC: It’s like one of those gem tumblers, where you put in all the geodes and precious rocks, and you just tumble it and tumble it and tumble it. It takes a long time, and they turn into these beautiful smooth rocks.

OV: You’ve referred to yourselves as tropical crunk music?

HC: Many times.

OV: What aspects of crunk do you guys adapt to your style?

MC: Mostly the dancing.

AN: Mostly nothing. Besides the vibe. We don’t have crunk cups.

HC: I do.

It was an emotional night at the Goodfoot bar in SE Portland, as The Water Tower Bucket Boys bid farewell to one of its founding  members. I’m not actually sure which member, or why said member decided to leave the band, but I can confirm the four-piece outfit, is now down to three.

As some of you may recall, Water Tower Bucket Boys, used to bring life to the UO campus playing bluegrass renditions of Snoop Dogg, Sublime, and of course, whatever band wrote ‘Wagon Wheel.’ They were also known purveyors of hashish.

More recently, the WTBB have been touring all across the US and Europe, playing original songs, and slanging records, not thc.

Unfortunately, free beer at pre-show party got the best of me and I was forced to leave the show about halfway through the set. But from what I saw, I can say with confidence the Water Tower Bucket Boys was worth the cost of admission. (Which in this case, was about two minutes of haggling, because, my name wasn’t on ‘the list.’ What the Fuck band promoters? Get your shit together!)

words JOSEPH DE SOSA
art IMOGEN BANKS

Are you tired of Rolling Stone? Do you want a music magazine that doesn’t feature an interview with Eddie Murphy as the feature in its latest issue? If you do, I know the magazine just for you. Its name is MaximumRocknRoll.

MRR began in 1977 as a radio show in the Bay Area, at a time when Bay Area punk bands like Dead Kennedys and Flipper were getting their starts. The radio show was ultra-popular, and in 1982 MRR magazine debuted as a music news insert in a compilation album by Alternative Tentacles (the label started by Jello Biafra, singer of the Dead Kennedys). Before his death in 2008, MRR founder Tim Yo would donate the magazine’s profits to smaller start-up zines and DIY ventures, like the legendary 924 Gilman St. in Berkeley California.

Today MaximumRocknRoll stays true to its DIY roots. It is an independent, not-for-profit underground music magazine operated entirely by volunteers that publishes submission-based band interviews. MRR releases issues monthly.

words COLETTE LEVESQUE

The West Palm Beach, Fl. foursome Surfer Blood released their first full-length album last year, Astro Coast. It sounded so good my ears wept. This past month, Surfer Blood released their first EP, Tarot Classics. It’s deadly. It has four tracks; 15 easy minutes with a steady beat, a good rhythm, and what I like to call “grown up lyrics.”

Even though Surfer Blood still abides by its beach rock roots, as a band they show maturity in their lyrical expansion. The first track, “I’m Not Ready,” which could easily be placed in Astro Coast, deals with a former friend, “sooner or later they will find out what you’re made of”. Without their frontman, John Paul Pitts, I’m not sure Surfer Blood would make it. It is his engaging harmony that shines through as he pours his broken heart out, “how can you say to me that it’s not meant to be.” The intimacy has a slacker charm, but the seriousness of friends, bad decisions, and failed relationships are extremely prevalent. The next two tracks “Voyager”, and “Drinking Problem” have an even deeper feeling. Staying true to the innocence of the ‘90s, Surfer Blood has done it and done it well. Tarot Classics, included with the four originals has two extra remixes plus a few bonus downloads.

Rated: If I had to eat 10 cookies, I’d only eat eight.

Last Wednesday night, a whiskey sour in hand and my wrists inky with stamps of various woodland creatures, I grooved to Memory Tapes as they played at the Doug Fir Lounge for the first time in Portland.  I say ‘they’ because it was not only Dayve hawk, the one man behind Memory Tapes and other projects such as Memory Cassette and Weird Tapes, but a bass player and percussionist backing him as well. Much to my surprise, they played a live show which sounded, to me, only distantly like the highly produced chillwave loops I was used to from his first album “seek magic”. Live, the sound was definitely funkier, quite bass heavy, and initially it was hard to identify each song with the tracks from his records. The familiar hook lines and beats in the background eventually clued me in, and overall the sound wasn’t unpleasant, only the show might have appealed more to a crowd looking to rock out rather than the dj set I was looking forward to. They opened with a track off his just released album “player piano”, played a handful of songs from “seek magic”, and ended with the upbeat track “bicycle”, playing for about 45 minutes in all. Another element worth mentioning were the crazy lights, which saturated the backdrop and players on stage with vivid patterns ranging from Indian rug and kaleidoscope, to something akin to the old OMNIMAX theatre intro of the  psychedelically colored tunnel through space. In all, an interesting show. Not exactly what I expected, but I still bought his LP. 

Margot Denman

If you’re up in Portland tonight, the southern garage rock band The Black Lips are playing at the Wonder Ballroom on tour to support their new album, Arabia Mountain. As the Lips are well known for their rowdy performances (which I’ve personally experienced and can vouch for), I would highly suggest that you roll. To read a review of Arabia Mountain, you can peep it here. It’s only 15 bucks, doors open at 8. Stay tuned to the blog for a live review tomorrow.  See you there.

je s u s ▲ by b <– listen/download on Bandcamp

RJD2 mini-interview/performance @ Mallard Madness.

Photo by Andrew Sexton

While I enjoy news stories about ASUO drama and fluffy opinion pieces, “The Weekend Police Blotter” is my favorite part of the Oregon Daily Emerald. If you don’t usually make it past page one, the blotter is a list of the weekend’s most serious — or most comical — police reports. Yesterday’s blotter contained this gem:

Incident: Disorderly subjects

Time: April 2, 12:55 a.m.

Location: 1626 Willamette Street [The Veteran’s Memorial Building]

Description: An individual who said he was a bartender at [Mac’s Restaurant and Nightclub] reported that a large illegal rave was going on at the Vet’s Club. He said there were multiple minors at the event and that pills and illegal drug use were present. Caller said there were between 100-200 individuals and the event was “explosive.”

A large illegal rave? Illegal drug use? Minors? Sounds awesome. Unfortunately, the event was not nearly as “explosive” as the bartender alleged. I would know. I was there.

The so-called “illegal rave” was actually a totally licit performance by three DJs: two local jockeys from Eugene, Sassy Mouff and Champagne Front, and one L.A.-based big-timer, Paul Devro, Creative Director of the Mad Decent label. (For info on Devro’s work, click here.)

After getting “disorderly” with some friends, I arrived at the venue around 11:30 p.m. The attendance was well under 100, and I’d estimate the average age to be somewhere around 17. Pubescents danced freakily on the ballroom’s sparse polished floor.

Soon after we arrived, Devro took to the turntables, and despite the smaller-than-anticipated turnout, he gave us two energetic hours of pounding bass, hair-bending synth, and records and riddims from all over the globe.

Why so few Eugeneians showed up to see one of the world’s most influential DJs spin escapes me. Perhaps it was the $8 cover, the presence of minors, and the relatively unknown venue.

But the lack of turnout did not fetter those present in getting down. Once most of the minors left to observe parent-imposed curfews, my party of eight enjoyed a near-private club experience. I for one bumped, grinded, slid on my knees across the floor, accepted a challenge to a friendly jerk battle with a kid who looks like this, and got served.

“Everyone in there was going buck,” said Devro after the show. “Last week I played to 1200 crazy-ass college kids, and tonight I played to like, I don’t know, under 100 kids, but everyone was just going crazy.”

When the bartender downstairs at Mac’s got fed up with the booming racket of techno, he called the police, and soon the party was shut down. Devro and his two hosts, Sassy Mouff and Champagne Front, headed over to The District with the intention of taking over the turntables. Just outside of Eugene’s premier nightclub, I asked Devro, “What are your last words before entering a vortex of Greek-life insanity?”

“Uh, I love my mom, I miss my dad, and hope my brother and sister live forever,” he replied. He stoically entered The District and commandeered the sound system, although this time he played noticeably more mainstream records. Listen for yourself.

Paul Devro @ The District