KQED’s Arts & Culture desk brings daily, in-depth cultural commentary and coverage of the Bay Area with a mission to enrich lives and inspire participation. Who We Are
Library Exhibit Honors the Prolific Output of an SF Artist and Puppeteer
Ralph Chessé’s career included a Coit Tower mural, a groundbreaking children’s TV show and marionettes galore.
‘The Last Murder at the End of the World’ Is a Story of Survival and Memory
Stuart Turton’s blending of whodunit, sci-fi and dystopia makes for his most exciting book yet.
This is Her, Now, in Space: J.Lo Heads to a New Galaxy for AI Love Story in ‘Atlas’
A data analyst travels to a strange planet populated solely by evil AI bots, in Jennifer Lopez’s (very cheesy) latest.
Taquerias Come and Go, but La Vic’s Orange Sauce Is Forever
The San Jose institution has fed hungry college students late into the night for more than 25 years.
How Swagger Like Us Pushed Queer Hip-Hop Forward in SF
As they wrap up a 12-year run, organizers look back a wild and expansive chapter in local nightlife.
10 Collections that Stunned at Bay Area Student Fashion Shows
San Francisco fashion students dropped dozens of to-die-for looks.
Ticketmaster Just Got Sued By the Justice Department for Those High Fees
The lawsuit accuses Ticketmaster, and parent company Live Nation, of running an illegal monopoly.
Funding for KQED Arts & Culture is provided by:
The William and Flora Hewlett Foundation, Akonadi Foundation, the Andrew W. Mellon Foundation, the National Endowment for the Arts, Yogen and Peggy Dalal, Diane B. Wilsey, the William and Gretchen Kimball Fund, Campaign 21 and the members of KQED.
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Live","link":"/"}},"stream_kqedNewscast":{"type":"posts","id":"stream_kqedNewscast","audioUrl":"https://www.kqed.org/.stream/anon/radio/RDnews/newscast.mp3?_=1","title":"KQED Newscast","featImg":"","label":{"name":"88.5 FM","link":"/"}},"arts_13958466":{"type":"posts","id":"arts_13958466","meta":{"index":"posts_1716263798","site":"arts","id":"13958466","score":null,"sort":[1716510433000]},"guestAuthors":[],"slug":"la-vics-orange-sauce-la-victoria-taqueria-late-night-san-jose","title":"Taquerias Come and Go, but La Vic’s Orange Sauce Is Forever","publishDate":1716510433,"format":"aside","headTitle":"Taquerias Come and Go, but La Vic’s Orange Sauce Is Forever | KQED","labelTerm":{},"content":"\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13958470\" class=\"wp-caption alignnone\" style=\"max-width: 1920px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13958470\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/Lavics.jpg\" alt=\"Illustration: Two men devour tacos and burritos while pouring hot sauce from squeeze bottles directly into their mouths.\" width=\"1920\" height=\"1920\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/Lavics.jpg 1920w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/Lavics-800x800.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/Lavics-1020x1020.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/Lavics-160x160.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/Lavics-768x768.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/Lavics-1536x1536.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1920px) 100vw, 1920px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">San Jose’s La Victoria Taqueria (aka La Vic’s), is famous for its orange sauce — and for feeding hungry college students until 3 a.m. \u003ccite>(Thien Pham)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>\u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/tag/the-midnight-diners\">\u003ci>The Midnight Diners\u003c/i>\u003c/a>\u003ci> is a regular collaboration between KQED food editor Luke Tsai and graphic novelist \u003c/i>\u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/thiendog/?hl=en\">\u003ci>Thien Pham\u003c/i>\u003c/a>\u003ci>. Follow them each week as they explore the hot pot restaurants, taco carts and 24-hour casino buffets that make up the Bay Area’s after-hours dining scene.\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>I’ve never stumbled into \u003ca href=\"https://www.lavicsj.com/\">La Victoria Taqueria\u003c/a> at 2 o’clock in the morning, bleary-eyed and half-starving midway through a six-hour cram session during finals week at San Jose State. Never crushed a plate of carne asada fries, half-drunk, after a night of dancing at Agenda or SJ Live back in the day.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>So my devotion to La Vic’s legendary orange sauce — the creamy, chile-flecked condiment that spawned a hundred imitators — is merely practical rather than religious. I just think it’s one of the most delicious hot sauces in the Bay Area. Almost certainly the most delicious you can get your hands on at 3 a.m.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>And after our recent late-night visit, I think I understand the hype.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Open since 1998, the original San Carlos Street location of La Vic’s sits kitty-corner to SJSU’s main campus, inside a cheery, slightly ramshackle old house — like a cartoon Victorian where a child detective goes mystery hunting. The family-owned taqueria offers a very standard college town burrito shop menu: enormously overstuffed tacos and burritos, quesadillas and loaded nachos and fries.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The only difference is that everywhere you look, there’s orange sauce. Twelve-ounce squeeze bottles on every table, and lined up in the fridge case behind the counter. Multiple orange sauce posters on the walls. College kids — so many college kids, in gym shorts or decked out for a night at the club — ordering extra tubs of orange sauce to go with their takeout burritos. Even the cup for our agua fresca was decorated with a picture of a bottle of orange sauce. (“Orange you glad you tried,” reads the tagline.)\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13958473\" class=\"wp-caption alignnone\" style=\"max-width: 1920px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13958473\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/Lavics2.jpg\" alt=\"Illustration: Exterior of La Victoria Taqueria, in an old Victorian house, lit up at night.\" width=\"1920\" height=\"1920\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/Lavics2.jpg 1920w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/Lavics2-800x800.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/Lavics2-1020x1020.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/Lavics2-160x160.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/Lavics2-768x768.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/Lavics2-1536x1536.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1920px) 100vw, 1920px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">The original La Vic’s is located in downtown San Jose, right across the street from San Jose State University. \u003ccite>(Thien Pham)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Look, if we’re being strictly honest, there are plenty of taquerias in San Jose — and all around the Bay — where you can get a tastier, more well-constructed burrito than the ones La Vic’s is rolling out these days. You can find more flavorful carnitas and juicier, less gristly carne asada. There are other restaurants that do a better job of piling meat and cheese on top of French fries.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>But man does that orange sauce paper over a thousand sins.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Like any well-guarded family recipe, the actual contents of the sauce are shrouded in secrecy and wild speculation. In \u003ca href=\"https://www.mercurynews.com/2022/07/07/san-jose-orange-sauce-taco-burrito-la-victoria-recipe/\">public interviews\u003c/a>, La Vic’s owners have only revealed a handful of obvious ingredients: garlic, onions, tomatoes, dried red chiles. Meanwhile, orange-sauce conspiracy theorists have long debated the source of the sauce’s telltale creaminess, which has been rumored to come from crushed-up crackers, mayonnaise and even leftover chorizo grease (!). The restaurant, for its part, stresses that the sauce has always been \u003ca href=\"https://www.sfgate.com/food/article/La-Victoria-orange-sauce-is-secret-17081821.php\">100% vegan\u003c/a>. (I, and most \u003ca href=\"https://www.reddit.com/r/SalsaSnobs/comments/191wyaw/update_la_victorias_orange_sauce_aka_san_jose/\">copycat recipes\u003c/a>, suspect the creaminess just comes from emulsified vegetable oil.)\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">\u003cspan style=\"color: #2b2b2b;font-weight: 400\">[aside postID='arts_13958041,arts_13955884,arts_13954983']\u003c/span>\u003c/span>Whatever the secret, La Vic’s orange sauce is delicious. It has a bright, garlicky heat that immediately perks up the palate and a tanginess that keeps it from being overly heavy, making it a natural foil to salty grilled meats. And we loved how the sauce’s slightly dense, creamy texture allows it to cling to surfaces instead of making the food soggy like your typical watery salsa.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>We also figured out how, if you order smartly, you can put together a legitimately solid meal at La Vic’s, even apart from squirting orange sauce onto every bite. First pro tip: It’s the super tacos, not the burritos, that are the star of the menu, especially if you order them with lengua, which is the tastiest and most tender of the meat options. The super tacos feature thick, double-stacked tortillas that the taqueros will crisp up on request, and they’re loaded with guacamole and sour cream, which provide a refreshing tang.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Second tip: Don’t sleep on the zippy and criminally underrated green sauce, which some La Vic’s loyalists like even better than the orange sauce.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Third: It’s true that the carne asada fries, which come loaded with steak, nacho cheese, sour cream and guac, are the ideal drunk food. But the fries here aren’t especially crispy, and it’s only a matter of minutes before the whole thing turns into a soggy mess. Consider instead the nachos. They have a much more resilient crunch and are, in my view, the perfect vessel for orange sauce.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Unless you count my own cooking, that is. Like so many other La Vic’s initiates, I dropped $8 on a bottle of the sauce to bring home — to test if it does, in fact, taste amazing on everything, like so many of the glowing reviews I’d read. For the past couple of weeks, I’ve been putting it on scrambled eggs and homemade carnitas, stirring it into bowls of rice and beans. And it really is true: I haven’t been disappointed yet.\u003c/p>\n\u003chr>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ca href=\"https://www.lavicsj.com/\">\u003ci>La Victoria Taqueria\u003c/i>\u003c/a>\u003ci> has six Bay Area locations, mostly in San Jose. The original location at 140 E. San Carlos St. is open from 7 a.m.–3 a.m. daily.\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\n","blocks":[],"excerpt":"The San Jose institution has fed hungry college students late into the night for more than 25 years.","status":"publish","parent":0,"modified":1716567006,"stats":{"hasAudio":false,"hasVideo":false,"hasChartOrMap":false,"iframeSrcs":[],"hasGoogleForm":false,"hasGallery":false,"hasHearkenModule":false,"hasPolis":false,"paragraphCount":17,"wordCount":990},"headData":{"title":"La Victoria’s Orange Sauce Is a Late-Night Legend in San Jose | KQED","description":"The San Jose institution has fed hungry college students late into the night for more than 25 years.","ogTitle":"Taquerias Come and Go, but La Vic’s Orange Sauce Is Forever","ogDescription":"","ogImgId":"","twTitle":"Taquerias Come and Go, but La Vic’s Orange Sauce Is Forever","twDescription":"","twImgId":"","socialTitle":"La Victoria’s Orange Sauce Is a Late-Night Legend in San Jose %%page%% %%sep%% KQED","schema":{"@context":"http://schema.org","@type":"Article","headline":"Taquerias Come and Go, but La Vic’s Orange Sauce Is Forever","datePublished":"2024-05-23T17:27:13-07:00","dateModified":"2024-05-24T09:10:06-07:00","image":"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/02/KQED-OG-Image@1x.png"}},"source":"The Midnight Diners","sourceUrl":"https://www.kqed.org/arts/tag/the-midnight-diners","sticky":false,"nprStoryId":"kqed-13958466","excludeFromSiteSearch":"Include","articleAge":"0","path":"/arts/13958466/la-vics-orange-sauce-la-victoria-taqueria-late-night-san-jose","audioTrackLength":null,"parsedContent":[{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13958470\" class=\"wp-caption alignnone\" style=\"max-width: 1920px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13958470\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/Lavics.jpg\" alt=\"Illustration: Two men devour tacos and burritos while pouring hot sauce from squeeze bottles directly into their mouths.\" width=\"1920\" height=\"1920\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/Lavics.jpg 1920w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/Lavics-800x800.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/Lavics-1020x1020.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/Lavics-160x160.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/Lavics-768x768.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/Lavics-1536x1536.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1920px) 100vw, 1920px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">San Jose’s La Victoria Taqueria (aka La Vic’s), is famous for its orange sauce — and for feeding hungry college students until 3 a.m. \u003ccite>(Thien Pham)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>\u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/tag/the-midnight-diners\">\u003ci>The Midnight Diners\u003c/i>\u003c/a>\u003ci> is a regular collaboration between KQED food editor Luke Tsai and graphic novelist \u003c/i>\u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/thiendog/?hl=en\">\u003ci>Thien Pham\u003c/i>\u003c/a>\u003ci>. Follow them each week as they explore the hot pot restaurants, taco carts and 24-hour casino buffets that make up the Bay Area’s after-hours dining scene.\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>I’ve never stumbled into \u003ca href=\"https://www.lavicsj.com/\">La Victoria Taqueria\u003c/a> at 2 o’clock in the morning, bleary-eyed and half-starving midway through a six-hour cram session during finals week at San Jose State. Never crushed a plate of carne asada fries, half-drunk, after a night of dancing at Agenda or SJ Live back in the day.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>So my devotion to La Vic’s legendary orange sauce — the creamy, chile-flecked condiment that spawned a hundred imitators — is merely practical rather than religious. I just think it’s one of the most delicious hot sauces in the Bay Area. Almost certainly the most delicious you can get your hands on at 3 a.m.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>And after our recent late-night visit, I think I understand the hype.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Open since 1998, the original San Carlos Street location of La Vic’s sits kitty-corner to SJSU’s main campus, inside a cheery, slightly ramshackle old house — like a cartoon Victorian where a child detective goes mystery hunting. The family-owned taqueria offers a very standard college town burrito shop menu: enormously overstuffed tacos and burritos, quesadillas and loaded nachos and fries.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"","name":"ad","attributes":{"named":{"label":"fullwidth"},"numeric":["fullwidth"]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The only difference is that everywhere you look, there’s orange sauce. Twelve-ounce squeeze bottles on every table, and lined up in the fridge case behind the counter. Multiple orange sauce posters on the walls. College kids — so many college kids, in gym shorts or decked out for a night at the club — ordering extra tubs of orange sauce to go with their takeout burritos. Even the cup for our agua fresca was decorated with a picture of a bottle of orange sauce. (“Orange you glad you tried,” reads the tagline.)\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13958473\" class=\"wp-caption alignnone\" style=\"max-width: 1920px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13958473\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/Lavics2.jpg\" alt=\"Illustration: Exterior of La Victoria Taqueria, in an old Victorian house, lit up at night.\" width=\"1920\" height=\"1920\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/Lavics2.jpg 1920w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/Lavics2-800x800.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/Lavics2-1020x1020.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/Lavics2-160x160.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/Lavics2-768x768.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/Lavics2-1536x1536.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1920px) 100vw, 1920px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">The original La Vic’s is located in downtown San Jose, right across the street from San Jose State University. \u003ccite>(Thien Pham)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Look, if we’re being strictly honest, there are plenty of taquerias in San Jose — and all around the Bay — where you can get a tastier, more well-constructed burrito than the ones La Vic’s is rolling out these days. You can find more flavorful carnitas and juicier, less gristly carne asada. There are other restaurants that do a better job of piling meat and cheese on top of French fries.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>But man does that orange sauce paper over a thousand sins.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Like any well-guarded family recipe, the actual contents of the sauce are shrouded in secrecy and wild speculation. In \u003ca href=\"https://www.mercurynews.com/2022/07/07/san-jose-orange-sauce-taco-burrito-la-victoria-recipe/\">public interviews\u003c/a>, La Vic’s owners have only revealed a handful of obvious ingredients: garlic, onions, tomatoes, dried red chiles. Meanwhile, orange-sauce conspiracy theorists have long debated the source of the sauce’s telltale creaminess, which has been rumored to come from crushed-up crackers, mayonnaise and even leftover chorizo grease (!). The restaurant, for its part, stresses that the sauce has always been \u003ca href=\"https://www.sfgate.com/food/article/La-Victoria-orange-sauce-is-secret-17081821.php\">100% vegan\u003c/a>. (I, and most \u003ca href=\"https://www.reddit.com/r/SalsaSnobs/comments/191wyaw/update_la_victorias_orange_sauce_aka_san_jose/\">copycat recipes\u003c/a>, suspect the creaminess just comes from emulsified vegetable oil.)\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">\u003cspan style=\"color: #2b2b2b;font-weight: 400\">\u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"","name":"aside","attributes":{"named":{"postid":"arts_13958041,arts_13955884,arts_13954983","label":""},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/span>\u003c/span>Whatever the secret, La Vic’s orange sauce is delicious. It has a bright, garlicky heat that immediately perks up the palate and a tanginess that keeps it from being overly heavy, making it a natural foil to salty grilled meats. And we loved how the sauce’s slightly dense, creamy texture allows it to cling to surfaces instead of making the food soggy like your typical watery salsa.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>We also figured out how, if you order smartly, you can put together a legitimately solid meal at La Vic’s, even apart from squirting orange sauce onto every bite. First pro tip: It’s the super tacos, not the burritos, that are the star of the menu, especially if you order them with lengua, which is the tastiest and most tender of the meat options. The super tacos feature thick, double-stacked tortillas that the taqueros will crisp up on request, and they’re loaded with guacamole and sour cream, which provide a refreshing tang.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Second tip: Don’t sleep on the zippy and criminally underrated green sauce, which some La Vic’s loyalists like even better than the orange sauce.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Third: It’s true that the carne asada fries, which come loaded with steak, nacho cheese, sour cream and guac, are the ideal drunk food. But the fries here aren’t especially crispy, and it’s only a matter of minutes before the whole thing turns into a soggy mess. Consider instead the nachos. They have a much more resilient crunch and are, in my view, the perfect vessel for orange sauce.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Unless you count my own cooking, that is. Like so many other La Vic’s initiates, I dropped $8 on a bottle of the sauce to bring home — to test if it does, in fact, taste amazing on everything, like so many of the glowing reviews I’d read. For the past couple of weeks, I’ve been putting it on scrambled eggs and homemade carnitas, stirring it into bowls of rice and beans. And it really is true: I haven’t been disappointed yet.\u003c/p>\n\u003chr>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ca href=\"https://www.lavicsj.com/\">\u003ci>La Victoria Taqueria\u003c/i>\u003c/a>\u003ci> has six Bay Area locations, mostly in San Jose. The original location at 140 E. San Carlos St. is open from 7 a.m.–3 a.m. daily.\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}}],"link":"/arts/13958466/la-vics-orange-sauce-la-victoria-taqueria-late-night-san-jose","authors":["11743","11753"],"categories":["arts_1","arts_12276"],"tags":["arts_21731","arts_10278","arts_1297","arts_8805","arts_14985","arts_1084","arts_14984","arts_21928"],"featImg":"arts_13958472","label":"source_arts_13958466"},"arts_13958493":{"type":"posts","id":"arts_13958493","meta":{"index":"posts_1716263798","site":"arts","id":"13958493","score":null,"sort":[1716583385000]},"guestAuthors":[],"slug":"ralph-chesse-sfpl-library-exhibition-review-art-marionettes-brother-buzz","title":"Library Exhibit Honors the Prolific Output of an SF Artist and Puppeteer","publishDate":1716583385,"format":"aside","headTitle":"Library Exhibit Honors the Prolific Output of an SF Artist and Puppeteer | KQED","labelTerm":{"term":140,"site":"arts"},"content":"\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13958495\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2089px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/chesse_withbrbuzz_7x7_300dpi_53676981320_o.jpg\" alt=\"Man in glasses and bowtie holds puppet controls above small bee puppet\" width=\"2089\" height=\"2060\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13958495\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/chesse_withbrbuzz_7x7_300dpi_53676981320_o.jpg 2089w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/chesse_withbrbuzz_7x7_300dpi_53676981320_o-800x789.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/chesse_withbrbuzz_7x7_300dpi_53676981320_o-1020x1006.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/chesse_withbrbuzz_7x7_300dpi_53676981320_o-160x158.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/chesse_withbrbuzz_7x7_300dpi_53676981320_o-768x757.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/chesse_withbrbuzz_7x7_300dpi_53676981320_o-1536x1515.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/chesse_withbrbuzz_7x7_300dpi_53676981320_o-2048x2020.jpg 2048w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/chesse_withbrbuzz_7x7_300dpi_53676981320_o-1920x1893.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2089px) 100vw, 2089px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Ralph Chessé with his Brother Buzz puppet, year unknown. \u003ccite>(Courtesy of the Chessé family)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>As a library evangelist, it’s rather embarrassing for me to discover an area of San Francisco’s main branch that I have not visited before. Yet I have a feeling I’m not the only one who’s missed this particular corner of the building. Just inside the Larkin Street doors, down the first stairs on the right, is the 1,500-square-foot Jewett Gallery, offering rotating special exhibitions. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>For the next three months, that exhibition is well worth seeking out. \u003ci>\u003ca href=\"https://sfpl.org/exhibits/2024/05/16/ralph-chesse-san-francisco-century\">Ralph Chessé: A San Francisco Century\u003c/a>\u003c/i> is a delightful and unexpected local history lesson on the prolific output of an artist, actor, puppeteer and creator of the long-running KPIX television show, \u003ci>The Wonderful World of Brother Buzz\u003c/i>. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Born in 1900 in New Orleans, Chessé moved to California in the 1920s to pursue the arts, plural. The library’s show, curated by Glen Helfand, contains evidence of this multi-hyphenate life: paintings, drawings, prints, marionettes and video documentation of performances. On top of that are family photographs, a reproduction of Chessé’s Coit Tower mural and a 1966 article that calls the Chessé family “a full-fledged theatrical dynasty.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13958499\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1827px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/rc_linocut_emperorjones_8x11_300dpi_53676527411_o-scaled.jpg\" alt=\"Black text on off-white paper advertising marionette performances\" width=\"1827\" height=\"2560\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13958499\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/rc_linocut_emperorjones_8x11_300dpi_53676527411_o-scaled.jpg 1827w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/rc_linocut_emperorjones_8x11_300dpi_53676527411_o-800x1121.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/rc_linocut_emperorjones_8x11_300dpi_53676527411_o-1020x1429.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/rc_linocut_emperorjones_8x11_300dpi_53676527411_o-160x224.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/rc_linocut_emperorjones_8x11_300dpi_53676527411_o-768x1076.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/rc_linocut_emperorjones_8x11_300dpi_53676527411_o-1096x1536.jpg 1096w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/rc_linocut_emperorjones_8x11_300dpi_53676527411_o-1462x2048.jpg 1462w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/rc_linocut_emperorjones_8x11_300dpi_53676527411_o-1920x2690.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1827px) 100vw, 1827px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">‘Emperor Jones’ linocut print by Ralph Chessé, year unknown. \u003ccite>(Courtesy of the Chessé family)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>It’s a lot, to be sure — Chessé lived to the age of 91. But the challenge of concisely presenting his long career is aided by snippets of QR-code-activated audio from Bruce and Ralph Chessé, his son and grandson. Here we get a more personal understanding of Chessé’s racial identity, which was mixed race, a fact that went unacknowledged during his life in San Francisco. The show posits that his two favorite roles, Hamlet and \u003ca href=\"https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Emperor_Jones\">Emperor Jones\u003c/a>, were his artistic way of exploring his Black and white heritage.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In a spread of black-and-white photographs capturing Chessé in different costumes and roles, detailing his height (5’ 4 ½”), weight (125 lbs) and membership in the Screen Actors Guild, we get a first hint at his versatility. With a switch of posture and overcoat, he slips between serious detective and shrugging goof. He ponders, he listens, he stands distinguished with a long beard.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Entranced from an early age by Shakespeare (picture a 13-year-old chasing down audiences to recite monologues from \u003ci>The Merchant of Venice\u003c/i>), Chessé didn’t have the height to win stage roles. And so he transferred his love for the Bard into marionette productions. The exhibition takes care to note that these stagings were “true theater, not shows for kids.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13958497\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/rchesse_drawing_2000.jpg\" alt=\"Black and white photo of man in glasses drawing lines on a canvas\" width=\"2000\" height=\"1603\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13958497\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/rchesse_drawing_2000.jpg 2000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/rchesse_drawing_2000-800x641.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/rchesse_drawing_2000-1020x818.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/rchesse_drawing_2000-160x128.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/rchesse_drawing_2000-768x616.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/rchesse_drawing_2000-1536x1231.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/rchesse_drawing_2000-1920x1539.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2000px) 100vw, 2000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Ralph Chessé drawing, year unknown. \u003ccite>(Courtesy of the Chessé family)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>A display of linocut posters, designed by Chessé and printed by his wife Jo on a laundry-wringer, shows both his sense of graphic design (punchy, lively) and the breadth of his theatrical material, which included \u003ci>Hamlet\u003c/i>, \u003ci>Hansel and Gretel\u003c/i> and \u003ci>H.M.S. Pinafore\u003c/i>. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Such ephemera shows Chessé moving his operations across the city, from the Yerba Buena Gardens neighborhood (long before it was Yerba Buena Gardens) to the bohemian hotbed that surrounded 628 Montgomery St. (aka the Monkey Block), before that building was demolished to make way for the Transamerica Pyramid.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13958498\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/buss_busy_transparency_2000.jpg\" alt=\"Two bee puppets dressed in clothes on a rocky set\" width=\"2000\" height=\"2291\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13958498\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/buss_busy_transparency_2000.jpg 2000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/buss_busy_transparency_2000-800x916.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/buss_busy_transparency_2000-1020x1168.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/buss_busy_transparency_2000-160x183.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/buss_busy_transparency_2000-768x880.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/buss_busy_transparency_2000-1341x1536.jpg 1341w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/buss_busy_transparency_2000-1788x2048.jpg 1788w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/buss_busy_transparency_2000-1920x2199.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2000px) 100vw, 2000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">A still from the set of ‘Brother Buzz’ showing Brother Buzz and Busy Bee, year unknown. \u003ccite>(Courtesy of the Chessé family)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>These often hand-printed advertisements are also evidence of Chessé’s serious hustle. While he may have painted a mural in Coit Tower (children at play, strangely unsmiling in protest of the city’s response to the 1934 longshoremen’s strike) and served, in the ’30s, as the director of puppetry for the state of California for the Federal Theater Project, during WWII he worked in a Bay Area shipyard. As his son Bruce says in an audio clip, “He did not have a steady income until he was 56 years old.” \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>That was when the \u003ca href=\"https://www.latham.org/\">Latham Foundation for the Promotion of Humane Education\u003c/a> approached Chessé about a children’s television show to encourage kindness to animals. \u003ci>The Wonderful World of Brother Buzz\u003c/i> was on the air from 1953 to 1969, and saw Chessé creating a new animal marionette each week to illustrate those lessons. Just a few of these presumably hundreds of characters are on display in the Jewett Gallery, including dapper Brother Buzz (he wears a top hat) and a bat wearing a sharp tan suit.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>It’s yet another tantalizing display of a smidgen of Chessé’s output (you can catch clips of the show the \u003ca href=\"https://vimeo.com/showcase/5048493\">Latham Foundation’s website\u003c/a>) in a show that might send you home Googling things like “unsmiling Coit Tower” and “City of Paris department store” — parts of San Francisco history graced by the seemingly inexhaustible talent of Ralph Chessé.\u003c/p>\n\u003chr>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>‘\u003ca href=\"https://sfpl.org/exhibits/2024/05/16/ralph-chesse-san-francisco-century\">Ralph Chessé: A San Francisco Century\u003c/a>’ is on view at the San Francisco Public Library’s Jewett Gallery (100 Larkin St., Lower Level) through Aug. 18, 2024.\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\n","blocks":[],"excerpt":"Ralph Chessé’s career included a Coit Tower mural, a groundbreaking children’s TV show and marionettes galore.","status":"publish","parent":0,"modified":1716583385,"stats":{"hasAudio":false,"hasVideo":false,"hasChartOrMap":false,"iframeSrcs":[],"hasGoogleForm":false,"hasGallery":false,"hasHearkenModule":false,"hasPolis":false,"paragraphCount":14,"wordCount":889},"headData":{"title":"Ralph Chessé’s Long Career as an Artist, Actor and Puppeteer | KQED","description":"Ralph Chessé’s career included a Coit Tower mural, a groundbreaking children’s TV show and marionettes galore.","ogTitle":"Library Exhibit Honors the Prolific Output of an SF Artist and Puppeteer","ogDescription":"","ogImgId":"","twTitle":"Library Exhibit Honors the Prolific Output of an SF Artist and Puppeteer","twDescription":"","twImgId":"","socialTitle":"Ralph Chessé’s Long Career as an Artist, Actor and Puppeteer %%page%% %%sep%% KQED","schema":{"@context":"http://schema.org","@type":"Article","headline":"Library Exhibit Honors the Prolific Output of an SF Artist and Puppeteer","datePublished":"2024-05-24T13:43:05-07:00","dateModified":"2024-05-24T13:43:05-07:00","image":"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/02/KQED-OG-Image@1x.png"}},"sticky":false,"nprStoryId":"kqed-13958493","templateType":"standard","featuredImageType":"standard","excludeFromSiteSearch":"Include","articleAge":"0","path":"/arts/13958493/ralph-chesse-sfpl-library-exhibition-review-art-marionettes-brother-buzz","audioTrackLength":null,"parsedContent":[{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13958495\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2089px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/chesse_withbrbuzz_7x7_300dpi_53676981320_o.jpg\" alt=\"Man in glasses and bowtie holds puppet controls above small bee puppet\" width=\"2089\" height=\"2060\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13958495\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/chesse_withbrbuzz_7x7_300dpi_53676981320_o.jpg 2089w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/chesse_withbrbuzz_7x7_300dpi_53676981320_o-800x789.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/chesse_withbrbuzz_7x7_300dpi_53676981320_o-1020x1006.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/chesse_withbrbuzz_7x7_300dpi_53676981320_o-160x158.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/chesse_withbrbuzz_7x7_300dpi_53676981320_o-768x757.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/chesse_withbrbuzz_7x7_300dpi_53676981320_o-1536x1515.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/chesse_withbrbuzz_7x7_300dpi_53676981320_o-2048x2020.jpg 2048w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/chesse_withbrbuzz_7x7_300dpi_53676981320_o-1920x1893.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2089px) 100vw, 2089px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Ralph Chessé with his Brother Buzz puppet, year unknown. \u003ccite>(Courtesy of the Chessé family)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>As a library evangelist, it’s rather embarrassing for me to discover an area of San Francisco’s main branch that I have not visited before. Yet I have a feeling I’m not the only one who’s missed this particular corner of the building. Just inside the Larkin Street doors, down the first stairs on the right, is the 1,500-square-foot Jewett Gallery, offering rotating special exhibitions. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>For the next three months, that exhibition is well worth seeking out. \u003ci>\u003ca href=\"https://sfpl.org/exhibits/2024/05/16/ralph-chesse-san-francisco-century\">Ralph Chessé: A San Francisco Century\u003c/a>\u003c/i> is a delightful and unexpected local history lesson on the prolific output of an artist, actor, puppeteer and creator of the long-running KPIX television show, \u003ci>The Wonderful World of Brother Buzz\u003c/i>. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Born in 1900 in New Orleans, Chessé moved to California in the 1920s to pursue the arts, plural. The library’s show, curated by Glen Helfand, contains evidence of this multi-hyphenate life: paintings, drawings, prints, marionettes and video documentation of performances. On top of that are family photographs, a reproduction of Chessé’s Coit Tower mural and a 1966 article that calls the Chessé family “a full-fledged theatrical dynasty.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13958499\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1827px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/rc_linocut_emperorjones_8x11_300dpi_53676527411_o-scaled.jpg\" alt=\"Black text on off-white paper advertising marionette performances\" width=\"1827\" height=\"2560\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13958499\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/rc_linocut_emperorjones_8x11_300dpi_53676527411_o-scaled.jpg 1827w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/rc_linocut_emperorjones_8x11_300dpi_53676527411_o-800x1121.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/rc_linocut_emperorjones_8x11_300dpi_53676527411_o-1020x1429.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/rc_linocut_emperorjones_8x11_300dpi_53676527411_o-160x224.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/rc_linocut_emperorjones_8x11_300dpi_53676527411_o-768x1076.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/rc_linocut_emperorjones_8x11_300dpi_53676527411_o-1096x1536.jpg 1096w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/rc_linocut_emperorjones_8x11_300dpi_53676527411_o-1462x2048.jpg 1462w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/rc_linocut_emperorjones_8x11_300dpi_53676527411_o-1920x2690.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1827px) 100vw, 1827px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">‘Emperor Jones’ linocut print by Ralph Chessé, year unknown. \u003ccite>(Courtesy of the Chessé family)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>It’s a lot, to be sure — Chessé lived to the age of 91. But the challenge of concisely presenting his long career is aided by snippets of QR-code-activated audio from Bruce and Ralph Chessé, his son and grandson. Here we get a more personal understanding of Chessé’s racial identity, which was mixed race, a fact that went unacknowledged during his life in San Francisco. The show posits that his two favorite roles, Hamlet and \u003ca href=\"https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Emperor_Jones\">Emperor Jones\u003c/a>, were his artistic way of exploring his Black and white heritage.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In a spread of black-and-white photographs capturing Chessé in different costumes and roles, detailing his height (5’ 4 ½”), weight (125 lbs) and membership in the Screen Actors Guild, we get a first hint at his versatility. With a switch of posture and overcoat, he slips between serious detective and shrugging goof. He ponders, he listens, he stands distinguished with a long beard.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"","name":"ad","attributes":{"named":{"label":"fullwidth"},"numeric":["fullwidth"]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Entranced from an early age by Shakespeare (picture a 13-year-old chasing down audiences to recite monologues from \u003ci>The Merchant of Venice\u003c/i>), Chessé didn’t have the height to win stage roles. And so he transferred his love for the Bard into marionette productions. The exhibition takes care to note that these stagings were “true theater, not shows for kids.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13958497\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/rchesse_drawing_2000.jpg\" alt=\"Black and white photo of man in glasses drawing lines on a canvas\" width=\"2000\" height=\"1603\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13958497\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/rchesse_drawing_2000.jpg 2000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/rchesse_drawing_2000-800x641.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/rchesse_drawing_2000-1020x818.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/rchesse_drawing_2000-160x128.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/rchesse_drawing_2000-768x616.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/rchesse_drawing_2000-1536x1231.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/rchesse_drawing_2000-1920x1539.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2000px) 100vw, 2000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Ralph Chessé drawing, year unknown. \u003ccite>(Courtesy of the Chessé family)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>A display of linocut posters, designed by Chessé and printed by his wife Jo on a laundry-wringer, shows both his sense of graphic design (punchy, lively) and the breadth of his theatrical material, which included \u003ci>Hamlet\u003c/i>, \u003ci>Hansel and Gretel\u003c/i> and \u003ci>H.M.S. Pinafore\u003c/i>. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Such ephemera shows Chessé moving his operations across the city, from the Yerba Buena Gardens neighborhood (long before it was Yerba Buena Gardens) to the bohemian hotbed that surrounded 628 Montgomery St. (aka the Monkey Block), before that building was demolished to make way for the Transamerica Pyramid.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13958498\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/buss_busy_transparency_2000.jpg\" alt=\"Two bee puppets dressed in clothes on a rocky set\" width=\"2000\" height=\"2291\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13958498\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/buss_busy_transparency_2000.jpg 2000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/buss_busy_transparency_2000-800x916.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/buss_busy_transparency_2000-1020x1168.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/buss_busy_transparency_2000-160x183.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/buss_busy_transparency_2000-768x880.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/buss_busy_transparency_2000-1341x1536.jpg 1341w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/buss_busy_transparency_2000-1788x2048.jpg 1788w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/buss_busy_transparency_2000-1920x2199.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2000px) 100vw, 2000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">A still from the set of ‘Brother Buzz’ showing Brother Buzz and Busy Bee, year unknown. \u003ccite>(Courtesy of the Chessé family)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>These often hand-printed advertisements are also evidence of Chessé’s serious hustle. While he may have painted a mural in Coit Tower (children at play, strangely unsmiling in protest of the city’s response to the 1934 longshoremen’s strike) and served, in the ’30s, as the director of puppetry for the state of California for the Federal Theater Project, during WWII he worked in a Bay Area shipyard. As his son Bruce says in an audio clip, “He did not have a steady income until he was 56 years old.” \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>That was when the \u003ca href=\"https://www.latham.org/\">Latham Foundation for the Promotion of Humane Education\u003c/a> approached Chessé about a children’s television show to encourage kindness to animals. \u003ci>The Wonderful World of Brother Buzz\u003c/i> was on the air from 1953 to 1969, and saw Chessé creating a new animal marionette each week to illustrate those lessons. Just a few of these presumably hundreds of characters are on display in the Jewett Gallery, including dapper Brother Buzz (he wears a top hat) and a bat wearing a sharp tan suit.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>It’s yet another tantalizing display of a smidgen of Chessé’s output (you can catch clips of the show the \u003ca href=\"https://vimeo.com/showcase/5048493\">Latham Foundation’s website\u003c/a>) in a show that might send you home Googling things like “unsmiling Coit Tower” and “City of Paris department store” — parts of San Francisco history graced by the seemingly inexhaustible talent of Ralph Chessé.\u003c/p>\n\u003chr>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>‘\u003ca href=\"https://sfpl.org/exhibits/2024/05/16/ralph-chesse-san-francisco-century\">Ralph Chessé: A San Francisco Century\u003c/a>’ is on view at the San Francisco Public Library’s Jewett Gallery (100 Larkin St., Lower Level) through Aug. 18, 2024.\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}}],"link":"/arts/13958493/ralph-chesse-sfpl-library-exhibition-review-art-marionettes-brother-buzz","authors":["61"],"programs":["arts_140"],"categories":["arts_1","arts_7862","arts_11615","arts_1003","arts_990","arts_70"],"tags":["arts_769","arts_7221","arts_5422","arts_585"],"featImg":"arts_13958497","label":"arts_140"},"arts_13958512":{"type":"posts","id":"arts_13958512","meta":{"index":"posts_1716263798","site":"arts","id":"13958512","score":null,"sort":[1716578990000]},"guestAuthors":[],"slug":"the-last-murder-at-the-end-of-the-world-is-a-story-of-survival-and-memory","title":"‘The Last Murder at the End of the World’ Is a Story of Survival and Memory","publishDate":1716578990,"format":"aside","headTitle":"‘The Last Murder at the End of the World’ Is a Story of Survival and Memory | KQED","labelTerm":{"term":140,"site":"arts"},"content":"\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13958515\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 844px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13958515\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/Screen-Shot-2024-05-24-at-12.07.16-PM.png\" alt=\"A book cover featuring an illustration of a lighthouse at dawn.\" width=\"844\" height=\"1214\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/Screen-Shot-2024-05-24-at-12.07.16-PM.png 844w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/Screen-Shot-2024-05-24-at-12.07.16-PM-800x1151.png 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/Screen-Shot-2024-05-24-at-12.07.16-PM-160x230.png 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/Screen-Shot-2024-05-24-at-12.07.16-PM-768x1105.png 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 844px) 100vw, 844px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">‘The Last Murder at the End of the World’ by Stuart Turton. \u003ccite>(Sourcebooks)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Stuart Turton’s \u003cem>The Last Murder at the End of the World\u003c/em> is a wild amalgamation of genre elements that pulls readers into a unique postapocalyptic world in which another end is imminent. Told with surprising speed, given its depth and scope, this bizarre whodunit also works as a science fiction allegory full of mystery that contemplates the end of the world and what it means to be human.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>After a deadly fog destroyed the world and killed most of humanity 90 years ago, the few remaining survivors established themselves on a small Greek island and began salvaging whatever they could. Now, 122 villagers and three scientists share life on the island, working the land, taking care of each other, and respecting a strange set of rules and a curfew that makes them all go to bed and wake up at the same time. They also share an AI voice that lives inside their head and operates like their conscience.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[aside postid='arts_13958337']Outside the island, the same deadly fog that ended the world still exists, and it sometimes comes on land, which makes it a constant threat. When one of the scientists is murdered, the islanders lose the only protection they had against the fog. If they don’t solve the murder soon, the fog will cover the island and kill everyone. Unfortunately, the same security system failure that could allow the fog to take over the island has also erased everyone’s memories of what happened during the night before. This means that no one remembers seeing anything — and that maybe even the person who committed the murder might not remember they did it.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>The Last Murder at the End of the World\u003c/em> works well, and it does so on two different levels. Right at the surface, this is a wonderful hybrid that blends postapocalyptic science fiction with a murder mystery. The elements of those genres never overpower each other. In fact, they complement each other and help Turton redefine the whodunit. The science fiction elements — the end of the world, the AI inside everyone’s head, the gems that can contain a person’s memories, the way people can buy memories to experience things — are interesting and make the narrative more engaging, while also placing the novel comfortably in the terrain of smart speculative fiction. Meanwhile, the murder mystery occupies center stage in a story where new revelations are always around the corner and where nothing is exactly at it seems.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>While genre elements are right at the surface here, \u003cem>The Last Murder at the End of the World\u003c/em> is also a deep novel about big ideas. Turton delves deep into the way humans tend to fight each other, for example. He also addresses the end of the world obliquely, with only short descriptions of how it happened and a few details about how some of the characters who were part of the original group of survivors fared after the fog killed almost everyone. Also, the narrative deals a lot with control — who possesses it and why and how it often comes accompanied by some kind of dishonesty. The plethora of ideas Turton plays with makes this a wonderfully layered story that’s about much more than a mysterious murder no one can remember.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Trekking into uncharted territory is always tricky, and that means narratives that do so might have slight flaws from their perilous journeys. In the case of \u003cem>The Last Murder at the End of the World\u003c/em>, there are only two small blemishes, which isn’t much when considering everything Turton accomplishes with the novel. The first one is that the large cast of characters prevented Turton from giving them all the same level of character development. The second is that despite short chapters and dialogue that carries the action well, the pacing isn’t constant and the telling feels a tad mechanical in some passages, probably because of everything that’s going on in the story, and the need to push things forward at all times while also engaging with big ideas.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[aside postid='arts_13958207']\u003cem>The Last Murder at the End of the World\u003c/em> is a gripping tale that reads like a Sherlock Holmes novel set in a broken future. This is a novel that explores what makes us human but that does so with characters that aren’t all human and with a narrator that is an artificial intelligence that may or may not know more about the future than everyone else. Turton is an exciting writer with a knack for strange tales that push the envelope, and this strange story of murder, survival, and the importance of memory might be his best work yet.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>Gabino Iglesias is an author, book reviewer and professor living in Austin, Texas. Find him on X, formerly Twitter, at @Gabino_Iglesias.\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003chr>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>‘The Last Murder at the End of the World’ by Stuart Turton is out now via Sourcebooks.\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\n","blocks":[],"excerpt":"Stuart Turton’s blending of whodunit, sci-fi and dystopia makes for his most exciting book yet.","status":"publish","parent":0,"modified":1716579014,"stats":{"hasAudio":false,"hasVideo":false,"hasChartOrMap":false,"iframeSrcs":[],"hasGoogleForm":false,"hasGallery":false,"hasHearkenModule":false,"hasPolis":false,"paragraphCount":11,"wordCount":853},"headData":{"title":"Book Review: ‘The Last Murder at the End of the World,’ Turton | KQED","description":"Stuart Turton’s blending of whodunit, sci-fi and dystopia makes for his most exciting book yet.","ogTitle":"'The Last Murder at the End of the World' Is a Story of Survival and Memory","ogDescription":"","ogImgId":"","twTitle":"'The Last Murder at the End of the World' Is a Story of Survival and Memory","twDescription":"","twImgId":"","socialTitle":"Book Review: ‘The Last Murder at the End of the World,’ Turton %%page%% %%sep%% KQED","schema":{"@context":"http://schema.org","@type":"Article","headline":"‘The Last Murder at the End of the World’ Is a Story of Survival and Memory","datePublished":"2024-05-24T12:29:50-07:00","dateModified":"2024-05-24T12:30:14-07:00","image":"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/02/KQED-OG-Image@1x.png"}},"sticky":false,"nprByline":"Gabino Iglesias, NPR","nprStoryId":"kqed-13958512","templateType":"standard","featuredImageType":"standard","excludeFromSiteSearch":"Include","showOnAuthorArchivePages":"No","articleAge":"0","path":"/arts/13958512/the-last-murder-at-the-end-of-the-world-is-a-story-of-survival-and-memory","audioTrackLength":null,"parsedContent":[{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13958515\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 844px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13958515\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/Screen-Shot-2024-05-24-at-12.07.16-PM.png\" alt=\"A book cover featuring an illustration of a lighthouse at dawn.\" width=\"844\" height=\"1214\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/Screen-Shot-2024-05-24-at-12.07.16-PM.png 844w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/Screen-Shot-2024-05-24-at-12.07.16-PM-800x1151.png 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/Screen-Shot-2024-05-24-at-12.07.16-PM-160x230.png 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/Screen-Shot-2024-05-24-at-12.07.16-PM-768x1105.png 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 844px) 100vw, 844px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">‘The Last Murder at the End of the World’ by Stuart Turton. \u003ccite>(Sourcebooks)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Stuart Turton’s \u003cem>The Last Murder at the End of the World\u003c/em> is a wild amalgamation of genre elements that pulls readers into a unique postapocalyptic world in which another end is imminent. Told with surprising speed, given its depth and scope, this bizarre whodunit also works as a science fiction allegory full of mystery that contemplates the end of the world and what it means to be human.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>After a deadly fog destroyed the world and killed most of humanity 90 years ago, the few remaining survivors established themselves on a small Greek island and began salvaging whatever they could. Now, 122 villagers and three scientists share life on the island, working the land, taking care of each other, and respecting a strange set of rules and a curfew that makes them all go to bed and wake up at the same time. They also share an AI voice that lives inside their head and operates like their conscience.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"","name":"aside","attributes":{"named":{"postid":"arts_13958337","label":""},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>Outside the island, the same deadly fog that ended the world still exists, and it sometimes comes on land, which makes it a constant threat. When one of the scientists is murdered, the islanders lose the only protection they had against the fog. If they don’t solve the murder soon, the fog will cover the island and kill everyone. Unfortunately, the same security system failure that could allow the fog to take over the island has also erased everyone’s memories of what happened during the night before. This means that no one remembers seeing anything — and that maybe even the person who committed the murder might not remember they did it.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>The Last Murder at the End of the World\u003c/em> works well, and it does so on two different levels. Right at the surface, this is a wonderful hybrid that blends postapocalyptic science fiction with a murder mystery. The elements of those genres never overpower each other. In fact, they complement each other and help Turton redefine the whodunit. The science fiction elements — the end of the world, the AI inside everyone’s head, the gems that can contain a person’s memories, the way people can buy memories to experience things — are interesting and make the narrative more engaging, while also placing the novel comfortably in the terrain of smart speculative fiction. Meanwhile, the murder mystery occupies center stage in a story where new revelations are always around the corner and where nothing is exactly at it seems.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>While genre elements are right at the surface here, \u003cem>The Last Murder at the End of the World\u003c/em> is also a deep novel about big ideas. Turton delves deep into the way humans tend to fight each other, for example. He also addresses the end of the world obliquely, with only short descriptions of how it happened and a few details about how some of the characters who were part of the original group of survivors fared after the fog killed almost everyone. Also, the narrative deals a lot with control — who possesses it and why and how it often comes accompanied by some kind of dishonesty. The plethora of ideas Turton plays with makes this a wonderfully layered story that’s about much more than a mysterious murder no one can remember.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"","name":"ad","attributes":{"named":{"label":"fullwidth"},"numeric":["fullwidth"]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Trekking into uncharted territory is always tricky, and that means narratives that do so might have slight flaws from their perilous journeys. In the case of \u003cem>The Last Murder at the End of the World\u003c/em>, there are only two small blemishes, which isn’t much when considering everything Turton accomplishes with the novel. The first one is that the large cast of characters prevented Turton from giving them all the same level of character development. The second is that despite short chapters and dialogue that carries the action well, the pacing isn’t constant and the telling feels a tad mechanical in some passages, probably because of everything that’s going on in the story, and the need to push things forward at all times while also engaging with big ideas.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"","name":"aside","attributes":{"named":{"postid":"arts_13958207","label":""},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cem>The Last Murder at the End of the World\u003c/em> is a gripping tale that reads like a Sherlock Holmes novel set in a broken future. This is a novel that explores what makes us human but that does so with characters that aren’t all human and with a narrator that is an artificial intelligence that may or may not know more about the future than everyone else. Turton is an exciting writer with a knack for strange tales that push the envelope, and this strange story of murder, survival, and the importance of memory might be his best work yet.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>Gabino Iglesias is an author, book reviewer and professor living in Austin, Texas. Find him on X, formerly Twitter, at @Gabino_Iglesias.\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003chr>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>‘The Last Murder at the End of the World’ by Stuart Turton is out now via Sourcebooks.\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}}],"link":"/arts/13958512/the-last-murder-at-the-end-of-the-world-is-a-story-of-survival-and-memory","authors":["byline_arts_13958512"],"programs":["arts_140"],"categories":["arts_1","arts_73","arts_835"],"tags":["arts_21817","arts_5221","arts_769","arts_3797","arts_585"],"affiliates":["arts_137"],"featImg":"arts_13958516","label":"arts_140"},"arts_13958503":{"type":"posts","id":"arts_13958503","meta":{"index":"posts_1716263798","site":"arts","id":"13958503","score":null,"sort":[1716572267000]},"guestAuthors":[],"slug":"atlas-review-jennifer-lopez-ai-movie-brad-peyton-brown","title":"This is Her, Now, in Space: J.Lo Heads to a New Galaxy for AI Love Story in ‘Atlas’","publishDate":1716572267,"format":"standard","headTitle":"This is Her, Now, in Space: J.Lo Heads to a New Galaxy for AI Love Story in ‘Atlas’ | KQED","labelTerm":{"term":140,"site":"arts"},"content":"\u003cp>Let’s all be clear, if we weren’t already, that when it comes to Jennifer Lopez, it’s about the love story. Always the love story.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>J.Lo the pop star, singing about rekindled love on her latest album, \u003cem>This is Me … Now\u003c/em>. J.Lo the rom-com regular, making movies about seeking love (including the extremely autobiographical film of the same name.) J.Lo the real-life celebrity goddess, in countless headlines about … what else?\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[aside postid='arts_13957540']Love, for better or worse.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>And so if we tell you that now, we have J.Lo in \u003cem>Atlas\u003c/em>, playing a data analyst who travels to a planet populated solely by evil AI bots preparing to extinguish humanity, well, your only question really should be, “Where’s the love story?”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Glad you asked! Because there is one. It may not be with a human. It may actually be with a computer program. But there is one. Because \u003cem>Atlas\u003c/em>, an often ridiculous sci-fi epic with dialogue cheesier than a Brie wheel but also an old-fashioned, human heart o’ gold, is a J.Lo movie. Through and through.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>We’ll give the filmmakers some credit: \u003cem>Atlas\u003c/em>, directed by Brad Peyton (\u003cem>San Andreas\u003c/em>) is timely. And not just because Lopez has been in the news lately, but because the subject is AI — which has been in the news even more than Bennifer, believe it or not.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>We begin our story on Earth, way off into the future, at a time where someone can say “Remember there used to be things called smartphones?” and everyone laughs. A montage of news reports informs us that things have not been going well for the human race. AI, created to advance humanity, has turned against it, killing over 1 million civilians.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The evil AI leader is Harlan (Simu Liu), who after turning on humanity has escaped to an unknown location far from Earth. But when an associate of his, Casca, is captured on Earth, the head of ICN, a coalition of nations fighting the AI menace, calls on Atlas Shepherd (Lopez) to help question him. Who better than the woman who’s devoted her life to the hunt for Harlan?\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jokpt_LJpbw\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>We learn Atlas is not a happy person. Also, she’s addicted to coffee — quad Americanos, to be precise. And she hates — absolutely hates — AI, for reasons unknown.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[aside postid='arts_13957803']Anyway, Atlas deftly manages to obtain Harlan’s location from Casca, and soon finds herself begging to join a mission to his far-off planet to capture the villainous bot, with whom she shares a mysterious past connection. At first, mission commander Banks (Sterling K. Brown) objects strenuously, but quickly and rather illogically changes his mind. (Both Liu and Brown deserve much better roles than the generic, lifeless ones they’re given.)\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Soon they’re off, to GR-39 in the Andromeda galaxy, where the ICN space rangers fall into a disastrous trap laid by Harlan. It’s here that Atlas meets the most important other person in the movie — well, not a person. It’s her AI software, who proves her crucial ally once Atlas is forced to crash land, in her mechanized battle suit, onto the planet.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The key issue is trust-building. Atlas, as we said, doesn’t trust AI. As the two get to know each other, the software gives himself (he has a “default” male voice) a name: Smith\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Atlas: “Is that really necessary?” Smith: “Names create an emotional reaction.” Atlas: “You’re a computer program.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The plan consists of finding Harlan, defeating his dastardly plot to destroy humanity and getting off the planet — all while hopefully staying alive. At every step, Smith informs Atlas with all the data at his disposal how precisely desperate the odds are. This results in some amusing banter as Smith, voiced by Gregory James Cohan, “learns” sarcasm and humor.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>As for Atlas, she needs to learn how to let down her guard — or rather, her brain walls. Her mistrust of AI leads her to stubbornly refuse (at first) Smith’s entreaties to use the “neural link” — a pathway into each other’s brains — that will vastly enhance Atlas’ chances of survival, combining her analytic capacity with Smith’s data access.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[aside postid='arts_13958145']Harlan doesn’t appear until halfway into the movie, and we soon learn something about the tragic past he shares with Atlas. In any case, it’s Smith, not Harlan, that ultimately evokes real feeling from Atlas — and gives Lopez a chance to emote, which she does reasonably well given the mediocre dialogue. You could call it a futuristic triangle: Human, bad AI, good AI.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Who will win out? Our protocol, as Smith would say, doesn’t allow us to give spoilers. But you can guess one idea that emerges shining bright: It’s a four letter word that starts with “L.”\u003c/p>\n\u003chr>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>‘Atlas’ begins streaming on Netflix on May 24, 2024.\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\n","blocks":[],"excerpt":"A data analyst travels to a strange planet populated solely by evil AI bots, in Jennifer Lopez’s (very cheesy) latest.","status":"publish","parent":0,"modified":1716572267,"stats":{"hasAudio":false,"hasVideo":true,"hasChartOrMap":false,"iframeSrcs":[],"hasGoogleForm":false,"hasGallery":false,"hasHearkenModule":false,"hasPolis":false,"paragraphCount":20,"wordCount":885},"headData":{"title":"‘Atlas’ Movie Review: Jennifer Lopez Serves Cheese in Space | KQED","description":"A data analyst travels to a strange planet populated solely by evil AI bots, in Jennifer Lopez’s (very cheesy) latest.","ogTitle":"This is Her, Now, in Space: J.Lo Heads to a New Galaxy for AI Love Story in ‘Atlas’","ogDescription":"","ogImgId":"","twTitle":"This is Her, Now, in Space: J.Lo Heads to a New Galaxy for AI Love Story in ‘Atlas’","twDescription":"","twImgId":"","socialTitle":"‘Atlas’ Movie Review: Jennifer Lopez Serves Cheese in Space %%page%% %%sep%% KQED","schema":{"@context":"http://schema.org","@type":"Article","headline":"This is Her, Now, in Space: J.Lo Heads to a New Galaxy for AI Love Story in ‘Atlas’","datePublished":"2024-05-24T10:37:47-07:00","dateModified":"2024-05-24T10:37:47-07:00","image":"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/02/KQED-OG-Image@1x.png"}},"sticky":false,"nprByline":"Jocelyn Noveck, Associated Press","nprStoryId":"kqed-13958503","templateType":"standard","featuredImageType":"standard","excludeFromSiteSearch":"Include","showOnAuthorArchivePages":"No","articleAge":"0","path":"/arts/13958503/atlas-review-jennifer-lopez-ai-movie-brad-peyton-brown","audioTrackLength":null,"parsedContent":[{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp>Let’s all be clear, if we weren’t already, that when it comes to Jennifer Lopez, it’s about the love story. Always the love story.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>J.Lo the pop star, singing about rekindled love on her latest album, \u003cem>This is Me … Now\u003c/em>. J.Lo the rom-com regular, making movies about seeking love (including the extremely autobiographical film of the same name.) J.Lo the real-life celebrity goddess, in countless headlines about … what else?\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"","name":"aside","attributes":{"named":{"postid":"arts_13957540","label":""},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>Love, for better or worse.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>And so if we tell you that now, we have J.Lo in \u003cem>Atlas\u003c/em>, playing a data analyst who travels to a planet populated solely by evil AI bots preparing to extinguish humanity, well, your only question really should be, “Where’s the love story?”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Glad you asked! Because there is one. It may not be with a human. It may actually be with a computer program. But there is one. Because \u003cem>Atlas\u003c/em>, an often ridiculous sci-fi epic with dialogue cheesier than a Brie wheel but also an old-fashioned, human heart o’ gold, is a J.Lo movie. Through and through.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"","name":"ad","attributes":{"named":{"label":"fullwidth"},"numeric":["fullwidth"]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>We’ll give the filmmakers some credit: \u003cem>Atlas\u003c/em>, directed by Brad Peyton (\u003cem>San Andreas\u003c/em>) is timely. And not just because Lopez has been in the news lately, but because the subject is AI — which has been in the news even more than Bennifer, believe it or not.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>We begin our story on Earth, way off into the future, at a time where someone can say “Remember there used to be things called smartphones?” and everyone laughs. A montage of news reports informs us that things have not been going well for the human race. AI, created to advance humanity, has turned against it, killing over 1 million civilians.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The evil AI leader is Harlan (Simu Liu), who after turning on humanity has escaped to an unknown location far from Earth. But when an associate of his, Casca, is captured on Earth, the head of ICN, a coalition of nations fighting the AI menace, calls on Atlas Shepherd (Lopez) to help question him. Who better than the woman who’s devoted her life to the hunt for Harlan?\u003c/p>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003cspan class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__embedYoutube'>\n \u003cspan class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__embedYoutubeInside'>\n \u003ciframe\n loading='lazy'\n class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__youtubePlayer'\n type='text/html'\n src='//www.youtube.com/embed/Jokpt_LJpbw'\n title='//www.youtube.com/embed/Jokpt_LJpbw'\n allowfullscreen='true'\n style='border:0;'>\u003c/iframe>\n \u003c/span>\n \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003cp>We learn Atlas is not a happy person. Also, she’s addicted to coffee — quad Americanos, to be precise. And she hates — absolutely hates — AI, for reasons unknown.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"","name":"aside","attributes":{"named":{"postid":"arts_13957803","label":""},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>Anyway, Atlas deftly manages to obtain Harlan’s location from Casca, and soon finds herself begging to join a mission to his far-off planet to capture the villainous bot, with whom she shares a mysterious past connection. At first, mission commander Banks (Sterling K. Brown) objects strenuously, but quickly and rather illogically changes his mind. (Both Liu and Brown deserve much better roles than the generic, lifeless ones they’re given.)\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Soon they’re off, to GR-39 in the Andromeda galaxy, where the ICN space rangers fall into a disastrous trap laid by Harlan. It’s here that Atlas meets the most important other person in the movie — well, not a person. It’s her AI software, who proves her crucial ally once Atlas is forced to crash land, in her mechanized battle suit, onto the planet.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The key issue is trust-building. Atlas, as we said, doesn’t trust AI. As the two get to know each other, the software gives himself (he has a “default” male voice) a name: Smith\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Atlas: “Is that really necessary?” Smith: “Names create an emotional reaction.” Atlas: “You’re a computer program.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The plan consists of finding Harlan, defeating his dastardly plot to destroy humanity and getting off the planet — all while hopefully staying alive. At every step, Smith informs Atlas with all the data at his disposal how precisely desperate the odds are. This results in some amusing banter as Smith, voiced by Gregory James Cohan, “learns” sarcasm and humor.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>As for Atlas, she needs to learn how to let down her guard — or rather, her brain walls. Her mistrust of AI leads her to stubbornly refuse (at first) Smith’s entreaties to use the “neural link” — a pathway into each other’s brains — that will vastly enhance Atlas’ chances of survival, combining her analytic capacity with Smith’s data access.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"","name":"aside","attributes":{"named":{"postid":"arts_13958145","label":""},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>Harlan doesn’t appear until halfway into the movie, and we soon learn something about the tragic past he shares with Atlas. In any case, it’s Smith, not Harlan, that ultimately evokes real feeling from Atlas — and gives Lopez a chance to emote, which she does reasonably well given the mediocre dialogue. You could call it a futuristic triangle: Human, bad AI, good AI.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Who will win out? Our protocol, as Smith would say, doesn’t allow us to give spoilers. But you can guess one idea that emerges shining bright: It’s a four letter word that starts with “L.”\u003c/p>\n\u003chr>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>‘Atlas’ begins streaming on Netflix on May 24, 2024.\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}}],"link":"/arts/13958503/atlas-review-jennifer-lopez-ai-movie-brad-peyton-brown","authors":["byline_arts_13958503"],"programs":["arts_140"],"categories":["arts_1","arts_74","arts_75"],"tags":["arts_21948","arts_769","arts_585"],"featImg":"arts_13958504","label":"arts_140"},"arts_13958438":{"type":"posts","id":"arts_13958438","meta":{"index":"posts_1716263798","site":"arts","id":"13958438","score":null,"sort":[1716505164000]},"guestAuthors":[],"slug":"swagger-like-us-queer-hip-hop-nightlife-san-francisco","title":"How Swagger Like Us Pushed Queer Hip-Hop Forward in SF","publishDate":1716505164,"format":"standard","headTitle":"How Swagger Like Us Pushed Queer Hip-Hop Forward in SF | KQED","labelTerm":{"site":"arts"},"content":"\u003cp>[dropcap]O[/dropcap]n July 29, 2012, a family function was born on the patio of San Francisco’s El Rio.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Rapper MicahTron, who grew up in Hunters Point, struck a pose onstage in a silk bomber jacket, encouraging an ecstatic queer crowd sporting shaved sides, crop tops and improbably tight denim to “\u003ca href=\"https://soundcloud.com/micahtron/use-it-like-a-bumper-2\">back it up, use it like a bumper\u003c/a>.” Her set followed a wraithlike performance by Tosh Basco, formerly known as boychild, an art star of the freak-drag movement that enraptured the city. Basco entranced the audience in a neon-green look consisting of little more than fishnets and happy face stickers. The event’s co-mastermind Kelly Lovemonster generously distributed hugs and booty pops, ensuring a certain atmosphere in their whisper of a gray tank top.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“We did this because we wanted to support our community,” says Lovemonster, who is now living on the other side of the world in Australia. “I helped run and produce \u003ca href=\"https://www.swaggersf.com/\">Swagger Like Us\u003c/a> because I really thought this was an important space to hold.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>DJs played a joyful, aerobic collection of beats: Club-remixed R&B divas rubbed up against queer artists from niche subgenres of the nationwide hip-hop diaspora. The event’s namesake, the chest-out line from M.I.A.’s “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ewRjZoRtu0Y\">Paper Planes\u003c/a>” that \u003ca href=\"https://youtu.be/Im4tnRlJcXc?si=IHAkMCPr19JLJBwc\">Jay-Z and T.I. had spun into their own banger\u003c/a>, boomed out over the lemon trees that flanked the neighborhood bar’s dance floor. \u003cem>No one on the corner has swagger like us\u003c/em>, indeed.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Twelve years later, Swagger Like Us is now wrapping up its monthly format with a finale at El Rio on June 2. On a giggly, time-zone-spanning video call I had with the party’s two co-founders, Lovemonster brings up some thoughts occasioned by chapters on Black San Francisco in David Talbot’s history book \u003cem>Season of the Witch\u003c/em>. “I was thinking about places like the Fillmore and thinking of Swagger as a space for Black folks, and Black queer folks in particular, to say that we still exist,” they say.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13958452\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1500px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13958452\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/IMG_8657.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1500\" height=\"1000\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/IMG_8657.jpg 1500w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/IMG_8657-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/IMG_8657-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/IMG_8657-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/IMG_8657-768x512.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1500px) 100vw, 1500px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">The crowd at Swagger Like Us in May 2024. \u003ccite>(Jennifer Wong @takeover.tokyo)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Aside from a truly significant decade-plus of supporting the financial viability of queer hip-hop artists, this may well be Swagger’s true legacy in a city that has largely failed to hold the line for its Black community. “A space for us to congregate, a space for us to celebrate,” they smile.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>That long-ago debut twirl took place years before Swagger started selling out 1,000-person venues with indelible Pride events featuring larger-than-life allies like Trina and Leikeli47. But if you knew, you knew: Those of us who attended that first edition could absolutely clock a new chapter in queer San Francisco hip-hop history.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>As Swagger’s finale approaches, it seems like a good moment to reflect on what the party has meant for its artists and attendees. (This may not mean goodbye forever: Organizers hint that they might be back in the future for special events.)\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[dropcap]“T[/dropcap]he community that has formed around Swagger Like Us is nothing short of beautiful, vibrant, colorful and inclusive. It’s been a beautiful journey, and I feel incredibly humbled by the trust that David and Kelly have placed in me,” says acclaimed vogue dancer and queer socialite \u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/sirjoq/?hl=en\">Jocquese Whitfield\u003c/a>, who has been hosting the party since that way-back first edition.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13958450\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2560px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13958450\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/SirJoQ_Jenn-Wong_12-scaled.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"2560\" height=\"1707\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/SirJoQ_Jenn-Wong_12-scaled.jpg 2560w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/SirJoQ_Jenn-Wong_12-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/SirJoQ_Jenn-Wong_12-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/SirJoQ_Jenn-Wong_12-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/SirJoQ_Jenn-Wong_12-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/SirJoQ_Jenn-Wong_12-1536x1024.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/SirJoQ_Jenn-Wong_12-2048x1365.jpg 2048w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/SirJoQ_Jenn-Wong_12-1920x1280.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2560px) 100vw, 2560px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Jocquese Whitfield at Swagger Like Us in 2018. \u003ccite>(Jennifer Wong @takeover.tokyo)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>The party’s debut came mere months after a little-known “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bC6gTNKl-ak\">212\u003c/a>” ingénue named Azealia Banks nonchalantly told \u003cem>The New York Times\u003c/em> she was a bisexual. This was years before Lil Nas X came out with his 2019 track “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eLgxYjZEflI\">C7osure\u003c/a>,” a release that arguably \u003ca href=\"https://www.revolt.tv/article/2019-07-05/93134/lil-nas-x-on-the-backlash-of-confirming-his-sexuality-im-not-angry-or-anything\">ushered in the era of the mainstream gay rapper\u003c/a>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Nowadays, queer hip-hop has taken definite steps out of the underground. Streaming algorithms suggest \u003ca href=\"https://www.autostraddle.com/the-sounds-of-gen-z-five-queer-rappers-making-waves/\">LGBTQ+ performers\u003c/a> like Doechii and Ice Spice, and veteran MCs Queen Latifah and Da Brat have finally gone public with their decided lack of heterosexuality, to the delight of legions.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Swagger was born to book queer hip-hop’s rising stars long before the majors were ready. On national tours as one half of the queer electro-pop duo \u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/doubleduchess/\">Double Duchess\u003c/a>, davOmakesbeats realized their home of San Francisco lacked inclusive, Black and Brown community functions that would “get” the lyrics and moves he and Krylon Superstar were delivering on stage. davO’s own Caucasity aside, the beats-obsessed, Maryland-born DJ wanted to feel that energy in his adopted City by the Bay.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“When I came to California, I would play Baltimore club tracks and no one would know what they were,” remembers davO, who was also the founder of the sweaty Chinatown basement party Blood Sweat and Queers. “I didn’t get it. I was like, ‘Not everybody listens to this?’”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13958451\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2560px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13958451\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/IndiaSky_Jenn-Wong_8-scaled.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"2560\" height=\"1707\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/IndiaSky_Jenn-Wong_8-scaled.jpg 2560w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/IndiaSky_Jenn-Wong_8-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/IndiaSky_Jenn-Wong_8-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/IndiaSky_Jenn-Wong_8-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/IndiaSky_Jenn-Wong_8-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/IndiaSky_Jenn-Wong_8-1536x1024.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/IndiaSky_Jenn-Wong_8-2048x1365.jpg 2048w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/IndiaSky_Jenn-Wong_8-1920x1280.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2560px) 100vw, 2560px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">India Sky performs at Swagger Like Us in 2019. \u003ccite>(Jennifer Wong @takeover.tokyo)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>If it’s queer, immaculate vibes you’re looking for, you could do much worse than seek out davO’s eventual collaborator, Lovemonster. The multi-hyphenate creative with Haitian roots started producing events with their “Love canvases,” paint-spattered, clothing-optional performance-happenings they convened while attending their home state of New Jersey’s Rutgers University.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Today, they are successful curator and party producer in Sydney, Australia, where they live with their partner Spencer Dezart-Smith (a.k.a. boyfriend) — one of the founding DJs of Swagger Like Us — and their son. True to form, one of Lovemonster’s current events, Leak Your Own Nudes, is an underwear party. By the time they came together with davO over starting a new monthly function, Lovemonster was already a local nightlife heartthrob who curated the inclusive and foxy “go-go babes” at El Rio’s marquee soul music Saturday afternoon monthly, Hard French.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[dropcap]I[/dropcap] see now that this was one of the many golden ages of SF queer nightlife. In the early ’10s, you could drink affordably potent cocktails while grinding with sexy weirdos every night of the week: DJ Stanley Frank’s Viennetta Discotheque on Mondays, High Fantasy at Aunt Charlie’s on Tuesdays, Booty Call Wednesdays at Q Bar, Thursday nights at DJ Bus Station John’s Tubesteak Connection and avant-garde drag cabaret Club Something on Fridays at The Stud’s original location.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>After a breakup, I wound up living with Lovemonster, Hard French promoter Tom Temprano and a passel of other sparkly queers and their pets in a ramshackle flat on South Van Ness Avenue. An easy drunken stumble from El Rio, our lair was the designated after for, uh, releasing the energy of the bar’s daylight-hour parties. Despite a preponderance of shenanigans, we all got along surprisingly lovingly. The last of us didn’t leave that house until many years later, when the front staircase collapsed.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[aside postid='arts_13938947']Even amid so much festivity, Swagger filled a void. Nearly every decade since hip-hop’s birth, Bay Area queers have made space in a genre that, much like the world at large, is all too often hampered by heteronormative rigidity. In the ’80s, Page Hodel’s The Box hosted Queen Latifah, over three decades before she came out officially. In the ’90s, DJ Olga T gave birth to the eternal (27+ years running!) Mango at El Rio. Juba Kalamka of Deep Dickollective produced the first edition of the PeaceOUT World Homo Hop Festival in 2001, and in 2003, Oakland’s electric fundraiser-dance-party Ships in the Night set sail.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Though Swagger is indubitably part of this proud legacy, its founders were more focused on creating a proper Bay Area stop for the countrywide queer hip-hop circuit. Their first edition featured local nightlife stars, but the crew was soon introducing growing crowds to their next Soundcloud addictions. Early lineups featured Nola bounce queens Katey Red and Sissy Nobby; UNIIQU3’s defiant Jersey club; NYC ballroom giants MikeQ and Byrell the Great; Baltimore rappers DDm and TT the Artist; and the cadre of brilliant queer hip-hop artists who at the time always seemed painfully close to breaking the genre’s glass ceiling: Le1f, Zebra Katz, Cakes Da Killa and even Princess Nokia, who delivered an early performance of “Tomboy” to the Swagger crowd at Oasis.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13958453\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1500px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13958453\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/IMG_9107.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1500\" height=\"1000\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/IMG_9107.jpg 1500w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/IMG_9107-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/IMG_9107-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/IMG_9107-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/IMG_9107-768x512.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1500px) 100vw, 1500px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Dancers at Swagger Like Us in May 2024. \u003ccite>(Jennifer Wong @takeover.tokyo)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Some of these names are now Bay Area party regulars. At least in part, that’s due to their initial Swagger bookings. Eventually, the sound expanded to run the gamut of Black-rooted genres, including baile funk, the reggaeton of Mexico City’s Rosa Pistola and Latin club. The CDMX party I hosted (I’m telling you, it runs in the family), Traición, came up for a Swagger crossover Folsom Street Fair afterparty in 2017.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“It was the first time that I had been welcomed by a space that was so queer and Black,” remembers Saturn Risin9. The Hercules-raised performer had come up through what she calls San Francisco’s “universal” nightlife spaces, all-comer dance parties like Lights Down Low and Blow Up. “But at that time, I needed to connect with people like me,” she continues.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Swagger was there at every shift in her career, providing a stage for Saturn’s early, elaborate choreographies and eventually, her sets of breathy, club-ready R&B tracks that davO produced on \u003ca href=\"https://www.sfchronicle.com/music/article/Molly-House-Records-aims-to-take-LGBTQ-artists-11100671.php\">Molly House Records\u003c/a>, founded in 2017 to provide yet more amplification for the party’s talented collaborators. “It was a beautiful space for me to find ways to nurture others, and find out how I needed to be nurtured,” she recalls.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“It felt amazing to be celebrated as a Black queer artist in the city that I was born in,” says self-proclaimed “hyphy spiritual” and second-generation San Francisco rapper A.M.K, who adds that her Swagger appearances netted her exposure that led to out-of-state gigs. “Swagger Like Us represents the diversity and the love of the Bay Area,” A.M.K concludes.[aside postid='arts_13928057']\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>But throwing a BIPOC hip-hop party in San Francisco has never been all positivity, as generations of promoters who’ve encountered manic police surveillance and hostile venue owners know. Lovemonster recalls an insurance company who jacked up rates for a major event when they found out Swagger’s genre of preference.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>And the city’s evolution meant many from the event’s original crowd eventually moved out. “The only changes to the party have been by virtue of the city’s changes, which is to be expected,” says davO, who is now back in Maryland working as an addiction counselor and life coach. He left SF in 2018, the same year Lovemonster and boyfriend decamped to start their Australian family.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13958454\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1500px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13958454\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/IMG_6104.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1500\" height=\"1000\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/IMG_6104.jpg 1500w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/IMG_6104-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/IMG_6104-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/IMG_6104-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/IMG_6104-768x512.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1500px) 100vw, 1500px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Dancers at Swagger Like Us in March 2024. \u003ccite>(Jennifer Wong @takeover.tokyo)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Luckily, a younger generation carried on with the show, hosting and eventually becoming the new face of the party. “I think Jocquese and I were synonymous on the Swagger stage because we were its little siblings,” says Saturn. “Like, if davO and Kelly were the Kardashians, we were the Kendall and Kylie.” That they have given new life to Swagger over the last six years reminds me that as one person’s San Francisco recedes, another’s celebration of the city is just starting to pop.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>But also: “There’s a beginning and end to everything,” says Lovemonster, explaining away the end of the 12-year monthly that provided a place to dance, flirt and link when it was needed most. “Like, it’s just literally the cycle of life.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>There are sure to be a few tears when davO spins his classic Swagger closer “Choose Me,” a sweet, sunny Cobra Krames remix of UGK and Outkast’s “Int’l Players Anthem.” (“I just chose everybody!” davO exclaims when asked how the track made it into his heavy rotation.) Still, don’t think the finale of Swagger’s last season at El Rio will have more sad than swag.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>At least, not according to its headliner, Cakes Da Killa: “I’m honored to be in the mix for the last hurrah, and I hope everyone pulls up and shows out.”\u003c/p>\n\u003chr>\n\u003cp>[ad floatright]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>\u003ca href=\"https://www.eventbrite.com/e/swagger-like-us-presents-tickets-845752437307\">Swagger Like Us\u003c/a> will host its final monthly edition at El Rio (3158 Mission, San Francisco) on Sunday, June 2, 3-8 p.m. Tickets will be available at the door for $25. There will be an after-party at The Stud (1123-1125 Folsom Street, San Francisco) from 8 p.m.-2 a.m. \u003ca href=\"https://www.eventbrite.com/e/swagger-like-us-presents-the-after-party-tickets-907486976977?aff=oddtdtcreator\">Tickets available online\u003c/a> for $20, $25 at the door. \u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\n","blocks":[],"excerpt":"As they wrap up a 12-year run, organizers look back a wild and expansive chapter in local nightlife.","status":"publish","parent":0,"modified":1716570749,"stats":{"hasAudio":false,"hasVideo":false,"hasChartOrMap":false,"iframeSrcs":[],"hasGoogleForm":false,"hasGallery":false,"hasHearkenModule":false,"hasPolis":false,"paragraphCount":32,"wordCount":2245},"headData":{"title":"How Swagger Like Us Pushed Queer Hip-Hop Forward in SF | KQED","description":"As they wrap up a 12-year run, organizers look back a wild and expansive chapter in local nightlife.","ogTitle":"","ogDescription":"","ogImgId":"","twTitle":"","twDescription":"","twImgId":"","schema":{"@context":"http://schema.org","@type":"Article","headline":"How Swagger Like Us Pushed Queer Hip-Hop Forward in SF","datePublished":"2024-05-23T15:59:24-07:00","dateModified":"2024-05-24T10:12:29-07:00","image":"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/02/KQED-OG-Image@1x.png"}},"sticky":false,"nprByline":"Caitlin Donohue","nprStoryId":"kqed-13958438","templateType":"standard","featuredImageType":"standard","excludeFromSiteSearch":"Include","showOnAuthorArchivePages":"No","articleAge":"0","path":"/arts/13958438/swagger-like-us-queer-hip-hop-nightlife-san-francisco","audioTrackLength":null,"parsedContent":[{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003cspan class=\"utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__dropcapShortcode__dropcap\">O\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\u003cp>n July 29, 2012, a family function was born on the patio of San Francisco’s El Rio.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Rapper MicahTron, who grew up in Hunters Point, struck a pose onstage in a silk bomber jacket, encouraging an ecstatic queer crowd sporting shaved sides, crop tops and improbably tight denim to “\u003ca href=\"https://soundcloud.com/micahtron/use-it-like-a-bumper-2\">back it up, use it like a bumper\u003c/a>.” Her set followed a wraithlike performance by Tosh Basco, formerly known as boychild, an art star of the freak-drag movement that enraptured the city. Basco entranced the audience in a neon-green look consisting of little more than fishnets and happy face stickers. The event’s co-mastermind Kelly Lovemonster generously distributed hugs and booty pops, ensuring a certain atmosphere in their whisper of a gray tank top.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“We did this because we wanted to support our community,” says Lovemonster, who is now living on the other side of the world in Australia. “I helped run and produce \u003ca href=\"https://www.swaggersf.com/\">Swagger Like Us\u003c/a> because I really thought this was an important space to hold.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>DJs played a joyful, aerobic collection of beats: Club-remixed R&B divas rubbed up against queer artists from niche subgenres of the nationwide hip-hop diaspora. The event’s namesake, the chest-out line from M.I.A.’s “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ewRjZoRtu0Y\">Paper Planes\u003c/a>” that \u003ca href=\"https://youtu.be/Im4tnRlJcXc?si=IHAkMCPr19JLJBwc\">Jay-Z and T.I. had spun into their own banger\u003c/a>, boomed out over the lemon trees that flanked the neighborhood bar’s dance floor. \u003cem>No one on the corner has swagger like us\u003c/em>, indeed.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Twelve years later, Swagger Like Us is now wrapping up its monthly format with a finale at El Rio on June 2. On a giggly, time-zone-spanning video call I had with the party’s two co-founders, Lovemonster brings up some thoughts occasioned by chapters on Black San Francisco in David Talbot’s history book \u003cem>Season of the Witch\u003c/em>. “I was thinking about places like the Fillmore and thinking of Swagger as a space for Black folks, and Black queer folks in particular, to say that we still exist,” they say.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13958452\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1500px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13958452\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/IMG_8657.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1500\" height=\"1000\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/IMG_8657.jpg 1500w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/IMG_8657-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/IMG_8657-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/IMG_8657-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/IMG_8657-768x512.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1500px) 100vw, 1500px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">The crowd at Swagger Like Us in May 2024. \u003ccite>(Jennifer Wong @takeover.tokyo)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Aside from a truly significant decade-plus of supporting the financial viability of queer hip-hop artists, this may well be Swagger’s true legacy in a city that has largely failed to hold the line for its Black community. “A space for us to congregate, a space for us to celebrate,” they smile.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"","name":"ad","attributes":{"named":{"label":"fullwidth"},"numeric":["fullwidth"]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>That long-ago debut twirl took place years before Swagger started selling out 1,000-person venues with indelible Pride events featuring larger-than-life allies like Trina and Leikeli47. But if you knew, you knew: Those of us who attended that first edition could absolutely clock a new chapter in queer San Francisco hip-hop history.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>As Swagger’s finale approaches, it seems like a good moment to reflect on what the party has meant for its artists and attendees. (This may not mean goodbye forever: Organizers hint that they might be back in the future for special events.)\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003cspan class=\"utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__dropcapShortcode__dropcap\">“T\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\u003cp>he community that has formed around Swagger Like Us is nothing short of beautiful, vibrant, colorful and inclusive. It’s been a beautiful journey, and I feel incredibly humbled by the trust that David and Kelly have placed in me,” says acclaimed vogue dancer and queer socialite \u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/sirjoq/?hl=en\">Jocquese Whitfield\u003c/a>, who has been hosting the party since that way-back first edition.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13958450\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2560px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13958450\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/SirJoQ_Jenn-Wong_12-scaled.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"2560\" height=\"1707\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/SirJoQ_Jenn-Wong_12-scaled.jpg 2560w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/SirJoQ_Jenn-Wong_12-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/SirJoQ_Jenn-Wong_12-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/SirJoQ_Jenn-Wong_12-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/SirJoQ_Jenn-Wong_12-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/SirJoQ_Jenn-Wong_12-1536x1024.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/SirJoQ_Jenn-Wong_12-2048x1365.jpg 2048w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/SirJoQ_Jenn-Wong_12-1920x1280.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2560px) 100vw, 2560px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Jocquese Whitfield at Swagger Like Us in 2018. \u003ccite>(Jennifer Wong @takeover.tokyo)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>The party’s debut came mere months after a little-known “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bC6gTNKl-ak\">212\u003c/a>” ingénue named Azealia Banks nonchalantly told \u003cem>The New York Times\u003c/em> she was a bisexual. This was years before Lil Nas X came out with his 2019 track “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eLgxYjZEflI\">C7osure\u003c/a>,” a release that arguably \u003ca href=\"https://www.revolt.tv/article/2019-07-05/93134/lil-nas-x-on-the-backlash-of-confirming-his-sexuality-im-not-angry-or-anything\">ushered in the era of the mainstream gay rapper\u003c/a>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Nowadays, queer hip-hop has taken definite steps out of the underground. Streaming algorithms suggest \u003ca href=\"https://www.autostraddle.com/the-sounds-of-gen-z-five-queer-rappers-making-waves/\">LGBTQ+ performers\u003c/a> like Doechii and Ice Spice, and veteran MCs Queen Latifah and Da Brat have finally gone public with their decided lack of heterosexuality, to the delight of legions.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Swagger was born to book queer hip-hop’s rising stars long before the majors were ready. On national tours as one half of the queer electro-pop duo \u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/doubleduchess/\">Double Duchess\u003c/a>, davOmakesbeats realized their home of San Francisco lacked inclusive, Black and Brown community functions that would “get” the lyrics and moves he and Krylon Superstar were delivering on stage. davO’s own Caucasity aside, the beats-obsessed, Maryland-born DJ wanted to feel that energy in his adopted City by the Bay.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“When I came to California, I would play Baltimore club tracks and no one would know what they were,” remembers davO, who was also the founder of the sweaty Chinatown basement party Blood Sweat and Queers. “I didn’t get it. I was like, ‘Not everybody listens to this?’”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13958451\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2560px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13958451\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/IndiaSky_Jenn-Wong_8-scaled.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"2560\" height=\"1707\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/IndiaSky_Jenn-Wong_8-scaled.jpg 2560w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/IndiaSky_Jenn-Wong_8-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/IndiaSky_Jenn-Wong_8-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/IndiaSky_Jenn-Wong_8-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/IndiaSky_Jenn-Wong_8-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/IndiaSky_Jenn-Wong_8-1536x1024.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/IndiaSky_Jenn-Wong_8-2048x1365.jpg 2048w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/IndiaSky_Jenn-Wong_8-1920x1280.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2560px) 100vw, 2560px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">India Sky performs at Swagger Like Us in 2019. \u003ccite>(Jennifer Wong @takeover.tokyo)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>If it’s queer, immaculate vibes you’re looking for, you could do much worse than seek out davO’s eventual collaborator, Lovemonster. The multi-hyphenate creative with Haitian roots started producing events with their “Love canvases,” paint-spattered, clothing-optional performance-happenings they convened while attending their home state of New Jersey’s Rutgers University.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Today, they are successful curator and party producer in Sydney, Australia, where they live with their partner Spencer Dezart-Smith (a.k.a. boyfriend) — one of the founding DJs of Swagger Like Us — and their son. True to form, one of Lovemonster’s current events, Leak Your Own Nudes, is an underwear party. By the time they came together with davO over starting a new monthly function, Lovemonster was already a local nightlife heartthrob who curated the inclusive and foxy “go-go babes” at El Rio’s marquee soul music Saturday afternoon monthly, Hard French.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003cspan class=\"utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__dropcapShortcode__dropcap\">I\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\u003cp> see now that this was one of the many golden ages of SF queer nightlife. In the early ’10s, you could drink affordably potent cocktails while grinding with sexy weirdos every night of the week: DJ Stanley Frank’s Viennetta Discotheque on Mondays, High Fantasy at Aunt Charlie’s on Tuesdays, Booty Call Wednesdays at Q Bar, Thursday nights at DJ Bus Station John’s Tubesteak Connection and avant-garde drag cabaret Club Something on Fridays at The Stud’s original location.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>After a breakup, I wound up living with Lovemonster, Hard French promoter Tom Temprano and a passel of other sparkly queers and their pets in a ramshackle flat on South Van Ness Avenue. An easy drunken stumble from El Rio, our lair was the designated after for, uh, releasing the energy of the bar’s daylight-hour parties. Despite a preponderance of shenanigans, we all got along surprisingly lovingly. The last of us didn’t leave that house until many years later, when the front staircase collapsed.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"","name":"aside","attributes":{"named":{"postid":"arts_13938947","label":""},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>Even amid so much festivity, Swagger filled a void. Nearly every decade since hip-hop’s birth, Bay Area queers have made space in a genre that, much like the world at large, is all too often hampered by heteronormative rigidity. In the ’80s, Page Hodel’s The Box hosted Queen Latifah, over three decades before she came out officially. In the ’90s, DJ Olga T gave birth to the eternal (27+ years running!) Mango at El Rio. Juba Kalamka of Deep Dickollective produced the first edition of the PeaceOUT World Homo Hop Festival in 2001, and in 2003, Oakland’s electric fundraiser-dance-party Ships in the Night set sail.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Though Swagger is indubitably part of this proud legacy, its founders were more focused on creating a proper Bay Area stop for the countrywide queer hip-hop circuit. Their first edition featured local nightlife stars, but the crew was soon introducing growing crowds to their next Soundcloud addictions. Early lineups featured Nola bounce queens Katey Red and Sissy Nobby; UNIIQU3’s defiant Jersey club; NYC ballroom giants MikeQ and Byrell the Great; Baltimore rappers DDm and TT the Artist; and the cadre of brilliant queer hip-hop artists who at the time always seemed painfully close to breaking the genre’s glass ceiling: Le1f, Zebra Katz, Cakes Da Killa and even Princess Nokia, who delivered an early performance of “Tomboy” to the Swagger crowd at Oasis.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13958453\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1500px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13958453\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/IMG_9107.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1500\" height=\"1000\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/IMG_9107.jpg 1500w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/IMG_9107-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/IMG_9107-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/IMG_9107-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/IMG_9107-768x512.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1500px) 100vw, 1500px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Dancers at Swagger Like Us in May 2024. \u003ccite>(Jennifer Wong @takeover.tokyo)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Some of these names are now Bay Area party regulars. At least in part, that’s due to their initial Swagger bookings. Eventually, the sound expanded to run the gamut of Black-rooted genres, including baile funk, the reggaeton of Mexico City’s Rosa Pistola and Latin club. The CDMX party I hosted (I’m telling you, it runs in the family), Traición, came up for a Swagger crossover Folsom Street Fair afterparty in 2017.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“It was the first time that I had been welcomed by a space that was so queer and Black,” remembers Saturn Risin9. The Hercules-raised performer had come up through what she calls San Francisco’s “universal” nightlife spaces, all-comer dance parties like Lights Down Low and Blow Up. “But at that time, I needed to connect with people like me,” she continues.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Swagger was there at every shift in her career, providing a stage for Saturn’s early, elaborate choreographies and eventually, her sets of breathy, club-ready R&B tracks that davO produced on \u003ca href=\"https://www.sfchronicle.com/music/article/Molly-House-Records-aims-to-take-LGBTQ-artists-11100671.php\">Molly House Records\u003c/a>, founded in 2017 to provide yet more amplification for the party’s talented collaborators. “It was a beautiful space for me to find ways to nurture others, and find out how I needed to be nurtured,” she recalls.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“It felt amazing to be celebrated as a Black queer artist in the city that I was born in,” says self-proclaimed “hyphy spiritual” and second-generation San Francisco rapper A.M.K, who adds that her Swagger appearances netted her exposure that led to out-of-state gigs. “Swagger Like Us represents the diversity and the love of the Bay Area,” A.M.K concludes.\u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"","name":"aside","attributes":{"named":{"postid":"arts_13928057","label":""},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>But throwing a BIPOC hip-hop party in San Francisco has never been all positivity, as generations of promoters who’ve encountered manic police surveillance and hostile venue owners know. Lovemonster recalls an insurance company who jacked up rates for a major event when they found out Swagger’s genre of preference.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>And the city’s evolution meant many from the event’s original crowd eventually moved out. “The only changes to the party have been by virtue of the city’s changes, which is to be expected,” says davO, who is now back in Maryland working as an addiction counselor and life coach. He left SF in 2018, the same year Lovemonster and boyfriend decamped to start their Australian family.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13958454\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1500px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13958454\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/IMG_6104.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1500\" height=\"1000\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/IMG_6104.jpg 1500w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/IMG_6104-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/IMG_6104-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/IMG_6104-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/IMG_6104-768x512.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1500px) 100vw, 1500px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Dancers at Swagger Like Us in March 2024. \u003ccite>(Jennifer Wong @takeover.tokyo)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Luckily, a younger generation carried on with the show, hosting and eventually becoming the new face of the party. “I think Jocquese and I were synonymous on the Swagger stage because we were its little siblings,” says Saturn. “Like, if davO and Kelly were the Kardashians, we were the Kendall and Kylie.” That they have given new life to Swagger over the last six years reminds me that as one person’s San Francisco recedes, another’s celebration of the city is just starting to pop.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>But also: “There’s a beginning and end to everything,” says Lovemonster, explaining away the end of the 12-year monthly that provided a place to dance, flirt and link when it was needed most. “Like, it’s just literally the cycle of life.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>There are sure to be a few tears when davO spins his classic Swagger closer “Choose Me,” a sweet, sunny Cobra Krames remix of UGK and Outkast’s “Int’l Players Anthem.” (“I just chose everybody!” davO exclaims when asked how the track made it into his heavy rotation.) Still, don’t think the finale of Swagger’s last season at El Rio will have more sad than swag.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>At least, not according to its headliner, Cakes Da Killa: “I’m honored to be in the mix for the last hurrah, and I hope everyone pulls up and shows out.”\u003c/p>\n\u003chr>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"","name":"ad","attributes":{"named":{"label":"floatright"},"numeric":["floatright"]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>\u003ca href=\"https://www.eventbrite.com/e/swagger-like-us-presents-tickets-845752437307\">Swagger Like Us\u003c/a> will host its final monthly edition at El Rio (3158 Mission, San Francisco) on Sunday, June 2, 3-8 p.m. Tickets will be available at the door for $25. There will be an after-party at The Stud (1123-1125 Folsom Street, San Francisco) from 8 p.m.-2 a.m. \u003ca href=\"https://www.eventbrite.com/e/swagger-like-us-presents-the-after-party-tickets-907486976977?aff=oddtdtcreator\">Tickets available online\u003c/a> for $20, $25 at the door. \u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}}],"link":"/arts/13958438/swagger-like-us-queer-hip-hop-nightlife-san-francisco","authors":["byline_arts_13958438"],"categories":["arts_1","arts_835","arts_69"],"tags":["arts_8505","arts_10278","arts_3226","arts_4640","arts_12080","arts_1146"],"featImg":"arts_13958449","label":"arts"},"arts_13958404":{"type":"posts","id":"arts_13958404","meta":{"index":"posts_1716263798","site":"arts","id":"13958404","score":null,"sort":[1716504724000]},"guestAuthors":[],"slug":"bay-area-student-fashion-shows-2024","title":"10 Collections that Stunned at Bay Area Student Fashion Shows","publishDate":1716504724,"format":"aside","headTitle":"10 Collections that Stunned at Bay Area Student Fashion Shows | KQED","labelTerm":{"site":"arts"},"content":"\u003cp>Wearable sails, breathtaking knitwear and oversized butterfly sleeves took to the runways during the \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13957350/san-francisco-art-school-fashion-shows-cca-sfsu-academy-of-art\">Bay Area’s unofficial fashion week\u003c/a> this month. Undergraduate and graduate students at California College of the Arts, San Francisco State University and the Academy of Art debuted their thesis collections to massive applause and, in the case of one particular collection, gasps. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Here are 10 collections from emerging and talented designers that had my jaw on the freakin’ floor — and renewed my excitement for \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/tag/fit-check\">the Bay’s unique fashion scene\u003c/a>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13958400\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2560px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240509-SFStateRunway-106-BL-2-scaled.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"2560\" height=\"1707\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13958400\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240509-SFStateRunway-106-BL-2-scaled.jpg 2560w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240509-SFStateRunway-106-BL-2-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240509-SFStateRunway-106-BL-2-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240509-SFStateRunway-106-BL-2-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240509-SFStateRunway-106-BL-2-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240509-SFStateRunway-106-BL-2-1536x1024.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240509-SFStateRunway-106-BL-2-2048x1365.jpg 2048w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240509-SFStateRunway-106-BL-2-1920x1280.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2560px) 100vw, 2560px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">A model wears a mini dress by student Paulina Aguilar-Rosil during the Pulse Runway Show at SF State on May 13, 2024. The fashion exhibition showcased work by apparel design and merchandising majors. \u003ccite>(Beth LaBerge/KQED)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13958413\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2560px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240509-SFStateRunway-108-BL-scaled.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"2560\" height=\"1707\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13958413\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240509-SFStateRunway-108-BL-scaled.jpg 2560w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240509-SFStateRunway-108-BL-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240509-SFStateRunway-108-BL-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240509-SFStateRunway-108-BL-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240509-SFStateRunway-108-BL-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240509-SFStateRunway-108-BL-1536x1024.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240509-SFStateRunway-108-BL-2048x1365.jpg 2048w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240509-SFStateRunway-108-BL-1920x1280.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2560px) 100vw, 2560px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Paulina Aguilar-Rosil’s plaid skirt at the SF State runway. \u003ccite>(Beth LaBerge/KQED)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Paulina Aguilar-Rosil’s plaid skirt and her mini dress with an exaggerated bow elicited an audible response from the runway crowd — and for good reason. The SF State student’s bold \u003cem>Pobrecita\u003c/em> collection brought Chicana aesthetics into conversation with Catholic school uniforms. The outcome was a collection that told a captivating story about Aguilar-Rosil’s Los Angeles upbringing, using specific references that made her designs stand out from other, more familiar takes on It Girl styles.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13958439\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/FashionShowTriptych7.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"2000\" height=\"1333\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13958439\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/FashionShowTriptych7.jpg 2000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/FashionShowTriptych7-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/FashionShowTriptych7-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/FashionShowTriptych7-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/FashionShowTriptych7-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/FashionShowTriptych7-1536x1024.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/FashionShowTriptych7-1920x1280.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2000px) 100vw, 2000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Hand-crocheted looks by Pamela Alcala at the California College of the Arts show on May 10, 2024. \u003ccite>(Estefany Gonzalez for KQED)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>At the CCA show, Pamela Alcala’s hand-crocheted collection didn’t just reimagine knitwear — it built an entire world out of brushed wool. Alcala told KQED her looks were a “menswear take on [her] grandmother,” who lives in Cuernavaca, Mexico, taught Alcala how to sew and is obsessed with cats. Her designs were deliciously colorful and fresh, juxtaposing rich oranges and graying purples on playful silhouettes. Among them: nearly floor-length sleeves and cat-eared balaclavas.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13958399\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1827px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/20240516_AcademyofArtFashionShow-28-scaled.jpg\" alt=\"model in bright pink dress with giant sleeves and gold detailing\" width=\"1827\" height=\"2560\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13958399\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/20240516_AcademyofArtFashionShow-28-scaled.jpg 1827w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/20240516_AcademyofArtFashionShow-28-800x1121.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/20240516_AcademyofArtFashionShow-28-1020x1429.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/20240516_AcademyofArtFashionShow-28-160x224.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/20240516_AcademyofArtFashionShow-28-768x1076.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/20240516_AcademyofArtFashionShow-28-1096x1536.jpg 1096w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/20240516_AcademyofArtFashionShow-28-1462x2048.jpg 1462w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/20240516_AcademyofArtFashionShow-28-1920x2690.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1827px) 100vw, 1827px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Dress by Jagmehak Mandhan during the Academy of Art Fashion Show on May 16, 2024. This year’s theme was ‘Uncharted Territories.’ \u003ccite>(Gina Castro/KQED)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>When Jagmehak Mandhan’s pink look rounded the corner at the Academy of Art runway, attendees along the aisle actually gasped. Using fabrics she hand-selected from across North India and pieces of her mother’s 1989 wedding dress, Mandhan breathed exuberant life into traditional embroidery and regal silhouettes.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13958416\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2560px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240511_CCAFashionShow_EG_032-scaled.jpg\" alt=\"Woman in fuzzy pink dress surrounded by crowd\" width=\"2560\" height=\"1707\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13958416\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240511_CCAFashionShow_EG_032-scaled.jpg 2560w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240511_CCAFashionShow_EG_032-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240511_CCAFashionShow_EG_032-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240511_CCAFashionShow_EG_032-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240511_CCAFashionShow_EG_032-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240511_CCAFashionShow_EG_032-1536x1024.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240511_CCAFashionShow_EG_032-2048x1365.jpg 2048w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240511_CCAFashionShow_EG_032-1920x1280.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2560px) 100vw, 2560px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">A model walks down the runway wearing Winny Qingzihua Guan’s knitwear during the CCA student fashion show. \u003ccite>(Estefany Gonzalez for KQED)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Back at CCA, Winny Qingzihua Guan’s knit dress, made from deconstructed N95 masks spun into yarn, was a favorite stand-alone garment. Guan’s textural details turned the dress into an ecosystem that rewarded close looking: here and there, horizontal strips of elastic from repurposed masks fluttered as the model strutted.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13958411\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2560px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240509-SFStateRunway-128-BL-scaled.jpg\" alt=\"Three models in crop tops\" width=\"2560\" height=\"1707\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13958411\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240509-SFStateRunway-128-BL-scaled.jpg 2560w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240509-SFStateRunway-128-BL-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240509-SFStateRunway-128-BL-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240509-SFStateRunway-128-BL-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240509-SFStateRunway-128-BL-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240509-SFStateRunway-128-BL-1536x1024.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240509-SFStateRunway-128-BL-2048x1365.jpg 2048w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240509-SFStateRunway-128-BL-1920x1280.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2560px) 100vw, 2560px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Looks inspired by Bratz from SF State student designer Arnel Noquez. \u003ccite>(Beth LaBerge/KQED)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Arnel Noquez’s collection brought every Zillenial Bratz fantasy to life at the SF State show. But beyond that iconic reference, each look was grounded in sleek craftsmanship, especially this crop top and miniskirt set with charming fur details.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13958440\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1707px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240511_CCAFashionShow_EG_028-scaled.jpg\" alt=\"Model in draped head covering, layered skirts and boots\" width=\"1707\" height=\"2560\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13958440\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240511_CCAFashionShow_EG_028-scaled.jpg 1707w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240511_CCAFashionShow_EG_028-800x1200.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240511_CCAFashionShow_EG_028-1020x1530.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240511_CCAFashionShow_EG_028-160x240.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240511_CCAFashionShow_EG_028-768x1152.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240511_CCAFashionShow_EG_028-1024x1536.jpg 1024w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240511_CCAFashionShow_EG_028-1365x2048.jpg 1365w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240511_CCAFashionShow_EG_028-1920x2880.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1707px) 100vw, 1707px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">A design by Yiwei Wang at the CCA student fashion show. \u003ccite>(Estefany Gonzalez for KQED)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>The gooey center of CCA designer Yiwei Wang’s collection was a series of incredible trousers and one skirt that put texture, pattern and layering in refreshing concert with one another. Each look was completely unlike the other but united in a shared reimagining of bottoms.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13958415\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2560px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240509-SFStateRunway-120-BL-scaled.jpg\" alt=\"Four models in wraps, beaded clothing and natural tones\" width=\"2560\" height=\"1707\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13958415\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240509-SFStateRunway-120-BL-scaled.jpg 2560w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240509-SFStateRunway-120-BL-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240509-SFStateRunway-120-BL-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240509-SFStateRunway-120-BL-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240509-SFStateRunway-120-BL-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240509-SFStateRunway-120-BL-1536x1024.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240509-SFStateRunway-120-BL-2048x1365.jpg 2048w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240509-SFStateRunway-120-BL-1920x1280.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2560px) 100vw, 2560px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Keana Pukahi De Bruce’s looks from her ‘Vanua’ collection at SF State. \u003ccite>(Beth LaBerge/KQED)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Keana Pukahi De Bruce debuted a gorgeous collection at the SF State show titled \u003ci>Vanua\u003c/i>, meaning “home” or “land,” that celebrated the designer’s Fijian roots and brought traditional materials into ready-to-wear. Careful shell beading, coconut fibers and a patterned fabric made from mulberry bark called masi — usually used in ceremonies — were highlights of the collection. \u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13958419\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2560px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/20240516_AcademyofArtFashionShow-45-scaled.jpg\" alt=\"Black man in vest and black pants with chains and rivets walks in front of seated crowd\" width=\"2560\" height=\"1833\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13958419\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/20240516_AcademyofArtFashionShow-45-scaled.jpg 2560w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/20240516_AcademyofArtFashionShow-45-800x573.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/20240516_AcademyofArtFashionShow-45-1020x730.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/20240516_AcademyofArtFashionShow-45-160x115.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/20240516_AcademyofArtFashionShow-45-768x550.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/20240516_AcademyofArtFashionShow-45-1536x1100.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/20240516_AcademyofArtFashionShow-45-2048x1466.jpg 2048w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/20240516_AcademyofArtFashionShow-45-1920x1375.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2560px) 100vw, 2560px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">A model wearing designs by Academy of Art student Haydée Quesedo. \u003ccite>(Gina Castro/KQED)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Haydée Quesedo was another stunner at the Academy of Art show, melding punk rock with flamenco silhouettes. Quesedo’s designs delivered chains, full denim skirts and embroidered patches galore.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13958418\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2560px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/20240516_AcademyofArtFashionShow-35-scaled.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"2560\" height=\"1680\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13958418\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/20240516_AcademyofArtFashionShow-35-scaled.jpg 2560w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/20240516_AcademyofArtFashionShow-35-800x525.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/20240516_AcademyofArtFashionShow-35-1020x669.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/20240516_AcademyofArtFashionShow-35-160x105.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/20240516_AcademyofArtFashionShow-35-768x504.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/20240516_AcademyofArtFashionShow-35-1536x1008.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/20240516_AcademyofArtFashionShow-35-2048x1344.jpg 2048w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/20240516_AcademyofArtFashionShow-35-1920x1260.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2560px) 100vw, 2560px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">A tulle look by Johnny UN on model Jianyan Liu at the Academy of Art fashion show. \u003ccite>(Gina Castro/KQED)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Johnny UN was a standout at the Academy of Art show with a striking and moody collection that surreptitiously commented on warfare, the designer told KQED. Graphic cut outs, ripped sleeves and oodles of billowing tulle dissolved into one another across UN’s looks, bringing forth feelings of disaster and detonation. The effect was foreboding and spectacular.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13958441\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2560px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/20240516_AcademyofArtFashionShow-72-scaled.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"2560\" height=\"1706\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13958441\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/20240516_AcademyofArtFashionShow-72-scaled.jpg 2560w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/20240516_AcademyofArtFashionShow-72-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/20240516_AcademyofArtFashionShow-72-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/20240516_AcademyofArtFashionShow-72-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/20240516_AcademyofArtFashionShow-72-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/20240516_AcademyofArtFashionShow-72-1536x1024.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/20240516_AcademyofArtFashionShow-72-2048x1365.jpg 2048w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/20240516_AcademyofArtFashionShow-72-1920x1280.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2560px) 100vw, 2560px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">From left, models Bob Copani, Saira Kaur and Averie Johnson pose with designer Joey Ledoux, center right, at the Academy of Art fashion show. \u003ccite>(Gina Castro/KQED)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Amid many experiments in structure across the Academy of Art runway, Joey Ledoux’s were the most physically multi-dimensional. Inspired by time spent sailing with his grandfather as a kid, Ledoux transformed recreational outdoor materials — including collapsible tent poles and sails — into airy, wearable sculptures.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>After watching dozens of collections come down the runway, it’s clear that knitwear was the crown jewel this year. It materialized as fuzzy floor-length dresses and draping sleeves, and I was completely here for it. While many collections adhered to a more expected range of princess-y dresses and Sandy Liang-esque bows and ruching, the looks that had me gawking were the most specific: those that referenced a designer’s culture, childhood nostalgia or a grandmother who loves her granddaughter — and cats.\u003c/p>\n\n","blocks":[],"excerpt":"San Francisco fashion students dropped dozens of to-die-for looks.","status":"publish","parent":0,"modified":1716505414,"stats":{"hasAudio":false,"hasVideo":false,"hasChartOrMap":false,"iframeSrcs":[],"hasGoogleForm":false,"hasGallery":false,"hasHearkenModule":false,"hasPolis":false,"paragraphCount":15,"wordCount":977},"headData":{"title":"10 Collections that Stunned at Bay Area Student Fashion Shows | KQED","description":"San Francisco fashion students dropped dozens of to-die-for looks.","ogTitle":"","ogDescription":"","ogImgId":"","twTitle":"","twDescription":"","twImgId":"","schema":{"@context":"http://schema.org","@type":"Article","headline":"10 Collections that Stunned at Bay Area Student Fashion Shows","datePublished":"2024-05-23T15:52:04-07:00","dateModified":"2024-05-23T16:03:34-07:00","image":"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/02/KQED-OG-Image@1x.png"}},"sticky":false,"nprStoryId":"kqed-13958404","templateType":"standard","featuredImageType":"standard","excludeFromSiteSearch":"Include","articleAge":"0","path":"/arts/13958404/bay-area-student-fashion-shows-2024","audioTrackLength":null,"parsedContent":[{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp>Wearable sails, breathtaking knitwear and oversized butterfly sleeves took to the runways during the \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13957350/san-francisco-art-school-fashion-shows-cca-sfsu-academy-of-art\">Bay Area’s unofficial fashion week\u003c/a> this month. Undergraduate and graduate students at California College of the Arts, San Francisco State University and the Academy of Art debuted their thesis collections to massive applause and, in the case of one particular collection, gasps. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Here are 10 collections from emerging and talented designers that had my jaw on the freakin’ floor — and renewed my excitement for \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/tag/fit-check\">the Bay’s unique fashion scene\u003c/a>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13958400\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2560px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240509-SFStateRunway-106-BL-2-scaled.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"2560\" height=\"1707\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13958400\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240509-SFStateRunway-106-BL-2-scaled.jpg 2560w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240509-SFStateRunway-106-BL-2-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240509-SFStateRunway-106-BL-2-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240509-SFStateRunway-106-BL-2-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240509-SFStateRunway-106-BL-2-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240509-SFStateRunway-106-BL-2-1536x1024.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240509-SFStateRunway-106-BL-2-2048x1365.jpg 2048w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240509-SFStateRunway-106-BL-2-1920x1280.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2560px) 100vw, 2560px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">A model wears a mini dress by student Paulina Aguilar-Rosil during the Pulse Runway Show at SF State on May 13, 2024. The fashion exhibition showcased work by apparel design and merchandising majors. \u003ccite>(Beth LaBerge/KQED)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13958413\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2560px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240509-SFStateRunway-108-BL-scaled.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"2560\" height=\"1707\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13958413\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240509-SFStateRunway-108-BL-scaled.jpg 2560w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240509-SFStateRunway-108-BL-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240509-SFStateRunway-108-BL-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240509-SFStateRunway-108-BL-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240509-SFStateRunway-108-BL-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240509-SFStateRunway-108-BL-1536x1024.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240509-SFStateRunway-108-BL-2048x1365.jpg 2048w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240509-SFStateRunway-108-BL-1920x1280.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2560px) 100vw, 2560px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Paulina Aguilar-Rosil’s plaid skirt at the SF State runway. \u003ccite>(Beth LaBerge/KQED)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Paulina Aguilar-Rosil’s plaid skirt and her mini dress with an exaggerated bow elicited an audible response from the runway crowd — and for good reason. The SF State student’s bold \u003cem>Pobrecita\u003c/em> collection brought Chicana aesthetics into conversation with Catholic school uniforms. The outcome was a collection that told a captivating story about Aguilar-Rosil’s Los Angeles upbringing, using specific references that made her designs stand out from other, more familiar takes on It Girl styles.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13958439\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/FashionShowTriptych7.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"2000\" height=\"1333\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13958439\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/FashionShowTriptych7.jpg 2000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/FashionShowTriptych7-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/FashionShowTriptych7-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/FashionShowTriptych7-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/FashionShowTriptych7-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/FashionShowTriptych7-1536x1024.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/FashionShowTriptych7-1920x1280.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2000px) 100vw, 2000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Hand-crocheted looks by Pamela Alcala at the California College of the Arts show on May 10, 2024. \u003ccite>(Estefany Gonzalez for KQED)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>At the CCA show, Pamela Alcala’s hand-crocheted collection didn’t just reimagine knitwear — it built an entire world out of brushed wool. Alcala told KQED her looks were a “menswear take on [her] grandmother,” who lives in Cuernavaca, Mexico, taught Alcala how to sew and is obsessed with cats. Her designs were deliciously colorful and fresh, juxtaposing rich oranges and graying purples on playful silhouettes. Among them: nearly floor-length sleeves and cat-eared balaclavas.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13958399\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1827px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/20240516_AcademyofArtFashionShow-28-scaled.jpg\" alt=\"model in bright pink dress with giant sleeves and gold detailing\" width=\"1827\" height=\"2560\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13958399\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/20240516_AcademyofArtFashionShow-28-scaled.jpg 1827w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/20240516_AcademyofArtFashionShow-28-800x1121.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/20240516_AcademyofArtFashionShow-28-1020x1429.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/20240516_AcademyofArtFashionShow-28-160x224.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/20240516_AcademyofArtFashionShow-28-768x1076.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/20240516_AcademyofArtFashionShow-28-1096x1536.jpg 1096w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/20240516_AcademyofArtFashionShow-28-1462x2048.jpg 1462w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/20240516_AcademyofArtFashionShow-28-1920x2690.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1827px) 100vw, 1827px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Dress by Jagmehak Mandhan during the Academy of Art Fashion Show on May 16, 2024. This year’s theme was ‘Uncharted Territories.’ \u003ccite>(Gina Castro/KQED)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>When Jagmehak Mandhan’s pink look rounded the corner at the Academy of Art runway, attendees along the aisle actually gasped. Using fabrics she hand-selected from across North India and pieces of her mother’s 1989 wedding dress, Mandhan breathed exuberant life into traditional embroidery and regal silhouettes.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13958416\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2560px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240511_CCAFashionShow_EG_032-scaled.jpg\" alt=\"Woman in fuzzy pink dress surrounded by crowd\" width=\"2560\" height=\"1707\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13958416\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240511_CCAFashionShow_EG_032-scaled.jpg 2560w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240511_CCAFashionShow_EG_032-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240511_CCAFashionShow_EG_032-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240511_CCAFashionShow_EG_032-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240511_CCAFashionShow_EG_032-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240511_CCAFashionShow_EG_032-1536x1024.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240511_CCAFashionShow_EG_032-2048x1365.jpg 2048w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240511_CCAFashionShow_EG_032-1920x1280.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2560px) 100vw, 2560px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">A model walks down the runway wearing Winny Qingzihua Guan’s knitwear during the CCA student fashion show. \u003ccite>(Estefany Gonzalez for KQED)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Back at CCA, Winny Qingzihua Guan’s knit dress, made from deconstructed N95 masks spun into yarn, was a favorite stand-alone garment. Guan’s textural details turned the dress into an ecosystem that rewarded close looking: here and there, horizontal strips of elastic from repurposed masks fluttered as the model strutted.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13958411\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2560px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240509-SFStateRunway-128-BL-scaled.jpg\" alt=\"Three models in crop tops\" width=\"2560\" height=\"1707\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13958411\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240509-SFStateRunway-128-BL-scaled.jpg 2560w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240509-SFStateRunway-128-BL-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240509-SFStateRunway-128-BL-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240509-SFStateRunway-128-BL-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240509-SFStateRunway-128-BL-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240509-SFStateRunway-128-BL-1536x1024.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240509-SFStateRunway-128-BL-2048x1365.jpg 2048w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240509-SFStateRunway-128-BL-1920x1280.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2560px) 100vw, 2560px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Looks inspired by Bratz from SF State student designer Arnel Noquez. \u003ccite>(Beth LaBerge/KQED)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Arnel Noquez’s collection brought every Zillenial Bratz fantasy to life at the SF State show. But beyond that iconic reference, each look was grounded in sleek craftsmanship, especially this crop top and miniskirt set with charming fur details.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13958440\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1707px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240511_CCAFashionShow_EG_028-scaled.jpg\" alt=\"Model in draped head covering, layered skirts and boots\" width=\"1707\" height=\"2560\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13958440\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240511_CCAFashionShow_EG_028-scaled.jpg 1707w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240511_CCAFashionShow_EG_028-800x1200.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240511_CCAFashionShow_EG_028-1020x1530.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240511_CCAFashionShow_EG_028-160x240.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240511_CCAFashionShow_EG_028-768x1152.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240511_CCAFashionShow_EG_028-1024x1536.jpg 1024w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240511_CCAFashionShow_EG_028-1365x2048.jpg 1365w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240511_CCAFashionShow_EG_028-1920x2880.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1707px) 100vw, 1707px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">A design by Yiwei Wang at the CCA student fashion show. \u003ccite>(Estefany Gonzalez for KQED)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>The gooey center of CCA designer Yiwei Wang’s collection was a series of incredible trousers and one skirt that put texture, pattern and layering in refreshing concert with one another. Each look was completely unlike the other but united in a shared reimagining of bottoms.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13958415\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2560px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240509-SFStateRunway-120-BL-scaled.jpg\" alt=\"Four models in wraps, beaded clothing and natural tones\" width=\"2560\" height=\"1707\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13958415\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240509-SFStateRunway-120-BL-scaled.jpg 2560w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240509-SFStateRunway-120-BL-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240509-SFStateRunway-120-BL-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240509-SFStateRunway-120-BL-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240509-SFStateRunway-120-BL-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240509-SFStateRunway-120-BL-1536x1024.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240509-SFStateRunway-120-BL-2048x1365.jpg 2048w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240509-SFStateRunway-120-BL-1920x1280.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2560px) 100vw, 2560px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Keana Pukahi De Bruce’s looks from her ‘Vanua’ collection at SF State. \u003ccite>(Beth LaBerge/KQED)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Keana Pukahi De Bruce debuted a gorgeous collection at the SF State show titled \u003ci>Vanua\u003c/i>, meaning “home” or “land,” that celebrated the designer’s Fijian roots and brought traditional materials into ready-to-wear. Careful shell beading, coconut fibers and a patterned fabric made from mulberry bark called masi — usually used in ceremonies — were highlights of the collection. \u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13958419\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2560px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/20240516_AcademyofArtFashionShow-45-scaled.jpg\" alt=\"Black man in vest and black pants with chains and rivets walks in front of seated crowd\" width=\"2560\" height=\"1833\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13958419\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/20240516_AcademyofArtFashionShow-45-scaled.jpg 2560w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/20240516_AcademyofArtFashionShow-45-800x573.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/20240516_AcademyofArtFashionShow-45-1020x730.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/20240516_AcademyofArtFashionShow-45-160x115.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/20240516_AcademyofArtFashionShow-45-768x550.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/20240516_AcademyofArtFashionShow-45-1536x1100.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/20240516_AcademyofArtFashionShow-45-2048x1466.jpg 2048w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/20240516_AcademyofArtFashionShow-45-1920x1375.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2560px) 100vw, 2560px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">A model wearing designs by Academy of Art student Haydée Quesedo. \u003ccite>(Gina Castro/KQED)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Haydée Quesedo was another stunner at the Academy of Art show, melding punk rock with flamenco silhouettes. Quesedo’s designs delivered chains, full denim skirts and embroidered patches galore.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13958418\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2560px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/20240516_AcademyofArtFashionShow-35-scaled.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"2560\" height=\"1680\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13958418\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/20240516_AcademyofArtFashionShow-35-scaled.jpg 2560w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/20240516_AcademyofArtFashionShow-35-800x525.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/20240516_AcademyofArtFashionShow-35-1020x669.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/20240516_AcademyofArtFashionShow-35-160x105.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/20240516_AcademyofArtFashionShow-35-768x504.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/20240516_AcademyofArtFashionShow-35-1536x1008.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/20240516_AcademyofArtFashionShow-35-2048x1344.jpg 2048w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/20240516_AcademyofArtFashionShow-35-1920x1260.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2560px) 100vw, 2560px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">A tulle look by Johnny UN on model Jianyan Liu at the Academy of Art fashion show. \u003ccite>(Gina Castro/KQED)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Johnny UN was a standout at the Academy of Art show with a striking and moody collection that surreptitiously commented on warfare, the designer told KQED. Graphic cut outs, ripped sleeves and oodles of billowing tulle dissolved into one another across UN’s looks, bringing forth feelings of disaster and detonation. The effect was foreboding and spectacular.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13958441\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2560px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/20240516_AcademyofArtFashionShow-72-scaled.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"2560\" height=\"1706\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13958441\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/20240516_AcademyofArtFashionShow-72-scaled.jpg 2560w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/20240516_AcademyofArtFashionShow-72-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/20240516_AcademyofArtFashionShow-72-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/20240516_AcademyofArtFashionShow-72-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/20240516_AcademyofArtFashionShow-72-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/20240516_AcademyofArtFashionShow-72-1536x1024.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/20240516_AcademyofArtFashionShow-72-2048x1365.jpg 2048w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/20240516_AcademyofArtFashionShow-72-1920x1280.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2560px) 100vw, 2560px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">From left, models Bob Copani, Saira Kaur and Averie Johnson pose with designer Joey Ledoux, center right, at the Academy of Art fashion show. \u003ccite>(Gina Castro/KQED)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Amid many experiments in structure across the Academy of Art runway, Joey Ledoux’s were the most physically multi-dimensional. Inspired by time spent sailing with his grandfather as a kid, Ledoux transformed recreational outdoor materials — including collapsible tent poles and sails — into airy, wearable sculptures.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"","name":"ad","attributes":{"named":{"label":"fullwidth"},"numeric":["fullwidth"]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>After watching dozens of collections come down the runway, it’s clear that knitwear was the crown jewel this year. It materialized as fuzzy floor-length dresses and draping sleeves, and I was completely here for it. While many collections adhered to a more expected range of princess-y dresses and Sandy Liang-esque bows and ruching, the looks that had me gawking were the most specific: those that referenced a designer’s culture, childhood nostalgia or a grandmother who loves her granddaughter — and cats.\u003c/p>\n\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}}],"link":"/arts/13958404/bay-area-student-fashion-shows-2024","authors":["11872"],"categories":["arts_1","arts_76"],"tags":["arts_5850","arts_1696","arts_15240","arts_9510"],"featImg":"arts_13958461","label":"arts"},"arts_13958221":{"type":"posts","id":"arts_13958221","meta":{"index":"posts_1716263798","site":"arts","id":"13958221","score":null,"sort":[1716458454000]},"guestAuthors":[],"slug":"when-the-youth-speak-mush-lee-listens","title":"When the Youth Speak, Mush Lee Listens","publishDate":1716458454,"format":"audio","headTitle":"When the Youth Speak, Mush Lee Listens | KQED","labelTerm":{"term":8720,"site":"arts"},"content":"\u003cp>\u003ca href=\"#episode-transcript\">\u003ci>View the full episode transcript.\u003c/i>\u003c/a>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>As young people across the nation lead protests addressing war, climate change, reproductive rights and other major issues of our time, it’s important that adults in positions of power give them a platform and step back so the next generation of leaders can shine.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Young people have something to say, and they need allies. They need people like poet and educator \u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/mush510_/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">Michelle “Mush” Lee\u003c/a>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13958226\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13958226\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/download-800x800.jpg\" alt=\"Woman faces camera with a smile, while wearing a gold necklace over a white top in front of a white background. \" width=\"800\" height=\"800\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/download-800x800.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/download-1020x1020.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/download-160x160.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/download-768x768.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/download.jpg 1080w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">‘Once you put your pen to paper, don’t stop’ — Michelle ‘Mush’ Lee\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Lee is the executive director of the renowned poetry organization \u003ca href=\"https://youthspeaks.org/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">Youth Speaks\u003c/a>. The organization boasts a long list of alums who’ve become playwrights and poets, actors and activists. Just two years after its founding in 1996, Youth Speaks launched the annual youth poetry slam, Brave New Voices. This year, the three-day conference that pulls young poets from all corners of the country will be held in the nation’s capital, Washington D.C., just months before the presidential election.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>As an organizer, Lee is looking ahead to this year’s conference with a clear understanding of why young people’s voices are so important right now.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Raised between San Francisco and Hercules, Lee didn’t get into spoken word and poetry until her college years, but the seeds had been planted through her family lineage. Her grandfather was a pastor who she saw rigorously working on his craft when she was a kid. Years later, when Lee stumbled across a book her mother wrote and had published in Korea, she truly saw the connection.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>This week on Rightnowish we take a little dive into family history and explore the big concerns of the next generation with published poet, educator and youth advocate, Michelle “Mush” Lee.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c!-- iframe plugin v.4.3 wordpress.org/plugins/iframe/ -->\u003cbr>\n\u003ciframe loading=\"lazy\" frameborder=\"0\" height=\"200\" scrolling=\"no\" src=\"https://playlist.megaphone.fm/?e=KQINC5141054590\" width=\"100%\" class=\"iframe-class\">\u003c/iframe>\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2 id=\"episode-transcript\">Episode Transcript\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">This is a computer-generated transcript. While our team has reviewed it, there may be errors.\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw, Host: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Today we’re in conversation with poet and educator Michelle Lee, better known as Mush. Growing up between San Francisco and Hercules, Mush didn’t identify as a poet or spoken word artist until her college days, which is funny because her family has a pretty deep and profound connection to words.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Michelle “Mush” Lee, Guest: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I\u003c/span>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> was helping my dad clear out the garage. There was a bunch of boxes with, you know, we open ‘em, it’s the same book. And it’s in Korean, and, you know, so we’re like, man, they’re like 200 copies of this book, what is it? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I go to the back, you know, where the artist bio and and picture is, and there’s my mom. It’s a whole book of poems that she secretly, somehow published in Korea. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Now, Mush is at the helm of Youth Speaks, a nationally recognized organization that\u003c/span> \u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">created a platform for young emerging poets. And it all started right here in Frisco!\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">As we continue to read news headlines about young people being on the forefront of combating climate change, pushing for reproductive rights, and organizing anti-war protests across our country, we’re going to hear how adults like Mush Lee are helping young poets raise their voices. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> \u003c/span>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I’m Rightnowish host, Pendarvis Harshaw, stick around for our conversation right after this.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw:\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> Before poetry, spoken word, you were attracted to the oral tradition through the church. How did that play a role in who you are?\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Michelle “Mush” Lee: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Thank you for asking it because it’s a straight, it’s a direct line to my grandparents. You know, I’m a first generation born in San Francisco, California. L\u003c/span>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">ike a lot of children of immigrant parents or parents that are just working hella hard, you know, you get bounced around from family to family. You know what I mean? The cousin, the uncle.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> \u003c/span>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">My grandfather was a Presbyterian pastor. \u003c/span>\u003cb> \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">You know, Presbyterians get a rap of being like the boring square and nerdy theological super textbook.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> \u003c/span>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">But still, even in my grandfather’s church, you know, I would always hear him behind the pew practicing. He would always be rehearsing. I’d always see him at his dinner table just writing and writing, reading scripture. So the act of going from the pen to the page to the book to the oral, mouth to the ear\u003c/span> \u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">That was something I think, that I was just exposed to at a really, really young age. And despite being super like Presbyterian Christians, like, there was still some version of call and response, like the Korean grandmother’s in the, you know, in the pews. They were they were, you know, doing their call and responsing. And so there’s certain elements of, I think, hip hop cultural spaces and hip hop ethos and spoken word that resonated very quickly for me, even though where I was first exposed to those kind of expressions was not necessarily through poetry at all.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">But the seed was planted and then\u003c/span> \u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">you stepped into poetry full on, all ten toes as a young adult. Bring me into that experience.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Michelle “Mush” Lee: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I was in the West Indies in undergrad. I was 19, maybe, studying abroad. The war breaks out. It was Bush’s first term, I think, Bush son, junior. And I just was alone. You know, there’s something about being lonely and alone and kind of physically apart and disconnected.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I got really reflective. I got really angry and I got scared, but mostly angry. So I started reading about what’s happening in the war. I started,I don’t know where, I just started watching YouTube.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I found some poets, some def poets, Def Poetry Jam poets and\u003c/span> \u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">you know. There was an invitation from a professor in my women’s studies class there at University of West Indies who, that come and do open mic, all the women in the class. So I wrote my first poem about like, f*ck Bush, you know, f*ck the war. A lot of f*cks in there\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">And also like, I’m the sh*t because I’m an Asian woman, you know, hear me that, you know, it’s like the first sound. We call it first sound, at Youth Speaks when it’s like the first time a poet really has to say something serious and meaningful and like it’s urgent, and then it just comes out like that. So it was my little first sound moment.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">And then as soon as I got back home that December, I hit every single open mic that I could. So my best friend, Merv drove me around. And that’s where I found Youth Speaks. And I was 19. Just turning 20.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">[Music]\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> You are the executive director of Youth Speaks. It’s a nationally renowned organization that promotes young folks using their voice to speak about what’s really going on. I need the origin story. Where did it all start?\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> \u003c/span>\u003cb>Michelle “Mush” Lee: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Legend is, is that it started in the back of somebody’s trunk, with a bunch of loose paper, pencils and books, like books of poetry. And it was like a roving mobile poetry workshop space before that became a thing. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">So shout out to our, our founders, James Kass, our founding artistic director, Mark Bamuthi Joseph. Of course, the legendary Paul Flores.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">The story is James Paul, they were MFA writers over at a university.\u003c/span> \u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">They’re like, man, what’s up with all these white writers? And like 78% of them are dead, \u003c/span>\u003cb> \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">and they said, you know, this can’t be right. You know, there’s got to be other ways of learning and engaging poetry and creative writing. And so they said ‘Look, why don’t we just hit up, schools and see if any teacher wants to, you know, give us 30 minutes of writing time?’ \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">And that was it. And we had the first youth poetry slam in the world that following year. Had no idea what was going to happen. Opened the doors in San Francisco, California and there was a line out the door, packed.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">What year we talking about?\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Michelle “Mush” Lee: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">The organization started formally, formed in 1996. So it was around the early 90s, you know, hip hop was taking kind of a global commercial stance, and it was becoming more relevant. You know, and hip hop theater was something that was starting to bubble up. You remember \u003c/span>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Carmen\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Oh yeah, with Beyonce and Mos Def, how can I forget?\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>[2001 movie trailer for “Carmen: A Hip Hopera”]\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Mekhi Phifer, Beyonce Knowles, Mos Def, Rah Digga, Da Brat, \u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Carmen, the original Hip Hopera\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> \u003c/span>\u003cb>Michelle “Mush” Lee: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">As I was going back during that time and figuring out what were the kind of the cultural moments that catalyzed some of, you know, the spoken word movement, the hip hop theater, hip hop education spaces? My memory brought me back to \u003c/span>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Carmen.\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> \u003c/span>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I remember watching it, and I love Beyonce then and now, but I remember watching it thinking, I don’t understand what’s happening! You know what I mean?! and i love beyonce and i love Mos and Mos def went on host 6 seasons of Def Poetry on HBO so that’s around the cultural moment and zeitgeist when Youth Speaks was being formed.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Got it okay, okay. And then put it in context, how does the event, the annual event, Brave New Voices play a part in spreading the idea behind Youth Speaks?\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Michelle “Mush” Lee: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">In 1997, we started the first, you know, hosted the first Youth Poetry Slam in Frisco in San Francisco. And, we realized quickly that there were other cities, you know, poets were teaching other young folks. And so four cities got together a couple of years later, in New Mexico and said, you know, let’s convene every year. Let’s just get us together\u003c/span> \u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">to create a space, 3 or 4 days, for young folks to just share their stories but also engage in this, like, oral poetic that was, again, from the hip hop culture, born of a very specific social context, from Black oral tradition. And, you know, it’s like when you meet your people, you find your people. And it’s like, by all means, any means and all means, like, let’s stay together.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">[Music]\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Michelle “Mush” Lee:\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">That became kind of the pathway to connecting with eventually what became a network of 60 different youth voice organizations in the country: every corner, including, some First Nations reservations. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">It was a way for young people to see and experience other poets who don’t look like them, who who might not even sound like them, definitely did not come from the same type of walk of life. But what, what bound everybody together was their love for the word and we thought that was the best type of exchange.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> \u003c/span>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">So Brave New Voices, toeing the line of three decades of being in existence and bringing young folks together to platform their voices and talk about issues that matter right now. Why is this July’s event so special and what’s the focus of it?\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> \u003c/span>\u003cb>Michelle “Mush” Lee: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">There’s this kind of collective, disposition that and spirit energy, whatever you want to call it, that says that things feel particularly difficult. You know, so language like collective grief, collective punishment, collective fatigue, collective exhaustion,it’s weighing on us. And let’s the, you know, the obvious this November is the presidential election.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">There’s a lot at stake, I think, and there’s a lot of legitimate resistance and frustration and rage amongst young people at the ways that our generation and our parents and grandparents generations um\u003c/span> \u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">voluntary or involuntary have created like, the conditions.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Yeah. What are some of the key issues that you folks are looking to talk about?\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> \u003c/span>\u003cb>Michelle “Mush” Lee: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">The stuff that comes up is social media and mental health,\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> \u003c/span>\u003cem>[Clip of Youth Speaks poet reciting poem on healing]\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">You believe that you are the definition of opaque. \u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">\u003cbr>\n\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">You don’t even realize that you are the centerpiece in a room of double-sided mirrors and if only you cupped your hands around the glass, you would realize this is what healing looks like,\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">\u003cbr>\n\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">allowing yourself to become some sort of transparency. \u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">\u003cbr>\n\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">And yes, they say healing is not linear, but healing is a revolving door..\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">\u003cbr>\n\u003c/span>\u003cb>Michelle “Mush” Lee: …\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">climate justice… \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>[Clip of Youth Speaks poets talking about climate justice]\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Abuelos and Abuelas\u003cbr>\n\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Kids scattered on playgrounds\u003cbr>\n\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Farmers toiling the fields\u003cbr>\n\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Boiling under blistering heat\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Michelle “Mush” Lee: …\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">kind of an interrogation of colonialism, rematriation movements. What does that mean? What does it mean to be indigenous and sovereign? Also, you know, American Samoa, and other kind of nations that are, have been struggling in movement and movement work to be able to take back their ancestral land.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Michelle “Mush” Lee: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Censorship,\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>[Clip of Youth Speaks poet reciting poem about banned books]\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">We are not perfect but our nation is based on hope. \u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">\u003cbr>\n\u003c/span>\u003c/i> \u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">We are always striving for a more perfect union \u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">\u003cbr>\n\u003c/span>\u003c/i> \u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">That hope is crushed when books are banned, \u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">\u003cbr>\n\u003c/span>\u003c/i> \u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">ripping away stories that need to be told. [audience hmm]\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">\u003cbr>\n\u003c/span>\u003c/i> \u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">If voices can be so easily muzzled in America, \u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">\u003cbr>\n\u003c/span>\u003c/i> \u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">what hope do people yearning for freedom have in \u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">\u003cbr>\n\u003c/span>\u003c/i> \u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Russia, China, Ukraine, Gaza?\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">\u003cbr>\n\u003c/span>\u003c/i> \u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Silencing books by banning them only leads to \u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">\u003cbr>\n\u003c/span>\u003c/i> \u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">silencing people by bombing them. [audience cheering]\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> \u003c/span>\u003cb>Michelle “Mush” Lee: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Last thing I’ll say is, underneath it all, one of the greatest powers that every poet I know has is the power to time travel. And by that, I mean\u003c/span> \u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">somebody says or shares something that you know is authentic, you know, is real and you know, took some type of risk to, to to share\u003c/span>\u003cb>. \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">And suddenly, you know them in a new way,\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> \u003c/span>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I don’t know how to describe that. I always just describe it as time travel. We don’t give it enough due credit. You know, funders are always trying to measure that stuff. I’m like, ‘you can’t measure it man You can’t. You just got to trust. Just come into this space and feel it. I promise you, you’re just gonna want to write checks to the shorties.’ But, yeah, I think that is one of the most magical things that a poet and most artists I know are able to do.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">The ability to connect people across, you know, imagined or real dividing lines is something that we’re trying to preserve through Brave New voices.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">i love that. I love that you said that it’s there are so many different issues to address. Underneath that is the human connection and the ability to create empathy, situations where people can be open to other people’s lived experiences. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">With that said, do you have any advice to a young poet, someone in their teens, 20s, or even an older person who’s looking to make their first sound, as you said?\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> \u003c/span>\u003cb>Michelle “Mush” Lee: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Look, I’m 41 years old. I was born in 1982. This is a different moment. You know, I have a child that’s 11 years old, so it’s a different moment. I recognize that. It’s really hard. I feel like it’s even harder for our young people today to feel like they can truly make mistakes and fail publicly.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> \u003c/span>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Shame based culture, there’s all kinds of stuff that existed even when we were children but it’s, it’s a different scale and scope. And so I would say, look, you’re going to suck. And it’s going to be fine. But if it feels right when you’re up there, no matter how much your paper is shaking, you got to keep doing it and that’s it.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> \u003c/span>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Once you put your pen to paper, don’t stop and seek out mentors. And then finally, come find Youth Speaks. Even if you’ve never written a poem,\u003c/span> \u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">and we will walk with you.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">[Music]\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Mush, thank you for your time, for your personal story and for assisting the next generation in telling their story. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Again, Mush is the Executive Director of Youth Speaks, you can learn more about that organization by checking out their website, \u003c/span>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">youthspeaks.org\u003c/span>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">This summer Youth Speaks will be one of the many poetry orgs participating in Brave New Voices in Washington D.C., for more info on that check youthspeaks.org/bravenewvoices\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">And for more on Mush, she’s on Instagram. You can find her @ Mush510_ \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">This episode was hosted by me, Pendarvis Harshaw. Marisol Medina-Cadena produced this episode. Chris Hambrick held it down for edits on this one. Christopher Beale engineered this joint. \u003c/span>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">The Rightnowish team is also supported by Jen Chien, Ugur Dursun, Holly Kernan, Cesar Saldaña, and Katie Sprenger. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Rightnowish is a KQED production. Until next time, peace!\u003cbr>\n\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter size-full wp-image-12127869\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"78\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-400x39.jpg 400w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-768x75.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>\u003cem>Rightnowish is an arts and culture podcast produced at KQED. Listen to it wherever you get your podcasts or click the play button at the top of this page and subscribe to the show on \u003ca href=\"https://www.npr.org/podcasts/721590300/rightnowish\">NPR One\u003c/a>, \u003ca href=\"https://open.spotify.com/show/7kEJuafTzTVan7B78ttz1I\">Spotify\u003c/a>, \u003ca href=\"https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/rightnowish/id1482187648\">Apple Podcasts\u003c/a>, \u003ca href=\"https://tunein.com/podcasts/Arts--Culture-Podcasts/Rightnowish-p1258245/\">TuneIn\u003c/a>, \u003ca href=\"https://www.stitcher.com/podcast/kqed/rightnowish\">Stitcher\u003c/a> or wherever you get your podcasts. \u003c/em>\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]=\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad floatright]\u003c/p>\n","blocks":[],"excerpt":"Michelle Mush Lee of Youth Speaks talks about the issues on the minds of young poets today. ","status":"publish","parent":0,"modified":1716423813,"stats":{"hasAudio":true,"hasVideo":false,"hasChartOrMap":false,"iframeSrcs":[],"hasGoogleForm":false,"hasGallery":false,"hasHearkenModule":false,"hasPolis":false,"paragraphCount":61,"wordCount":3089},"headData":{"title":"When the Youth Speak, Mush Lee Listens | KQED","description":"As young people across the nation lead protests addressing war, climate change, reproductive rights and the major issues of our time, it's important that adults in positions of power give them a platform and step back so the next generation of leaders can shine. Young people have something to say, and they need allies. They need people like poet and educator Michelle "Mush" Lee.","ogTitle":"","ogDescription":"","ogImgId":"","twTitle":"","twDescription":"","twImgId":"","socialDescription":"As young people across the nation lead protests addressing war, climate change, reproductive rights and the major issues of our time, it's important that adults in positions of power give them a platform and step back so the next generation of leaders can shine. Young people have something to say, and they need allies. They need people like poet and educator Michelle "Mush" Lee.","schema":{"@context":"http://schema.org","@type":"Article","headline":"When the Youth Speak, Mush Lee Listens","datePublished":"2024-05-23T03:00:54-07:00","dateModified":"2024-05-22T17:23:33-07:00","image":"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/02/KQED-OG-Image@1x.png"}},"audioUrl":"https://www.podtrac.com/pts/redirect.mp3/chrt.fm/track/G6C7C3/traffic.megaphone.fm/KQINC5141054590.mp3?updated=1716329439","sticky":false,"templateType":"standard","featuredImageType":"standard","excludeFromSiteSearch":"Include","articleAge":"0","path":"/arts/13958221/when-the-youth-speak-mush-lee-listens","audioTrackLength":null,"parsedContent":[{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp>\u003ca href=\"#episode-transcript\">\u003ci>View the full episode transcript.\u003c/i>\u003c/a>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>As young people across the nation lead protests addressing war, climate change, reproductive rights and other major issues of our time, it’s important that adults in positions of power give them a platform and step back so the next generation of leaders can shine.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Young people have something to say, and they need allies. They need people like poet and educator \u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/mush510_/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">Michelle “Mush” Lee\u003c/a>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13958226\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13958226\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/download-800x800.jpg\" alt=\"Woman faces camera with a smile, while wearing a gold necklace over a white top in front of a white background. \" width=\"800\" height=\"800\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/download-800x800.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/download-1020x1020.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/download-160x160.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/download-768x768.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/download.jpg 1080w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">‘Once you put your pen to paper, don’t stop’ — Michelle ‘Mush’ Lee\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Lee is the executive director of the renowned poetry organization \u003ca href=\"https://youthspeaks.org/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">Youth Speaks\u003c/a>. The organization boasts a long list of alums who’ve become playwrights and poets, actors and activists. Just two years after its founding in 1996, Youth Speaks launched the annual youth poetry slam, Brave New Voices. This year, the three-day conference that pulls young poets from all corners of the country will be held in the nation’s capital, Washington D.C., just months before the presidential election.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>As an organizer, Lee is looking ahead to this year’s conference with a clear understanding of why young people’s voices are so important right now.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Raised between San Francisco and Hercules, Lee didn’t get into spoken word and poetry until her college years, but the seeds had been planted through her family lineage. Her grandfather was a pastor who she saw rigorously working on his craft when she was a kid. Years later, when Lee stumbled across a book her mother wrote and had published in Korea, she truly saw the connection.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>This week on Rightnowish we take a little dive into family history and explore the big concerns of the next generation with published poet, educator and youth advocate, Michelle “Mush” Lee.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c!-- iframe plugin v.4.3 wordpress.org/plugins/iframe/ -->\u003cbr>\n\u003ciframe loading=\"lazy\" frameborder=\"0\" height=\"200\" scrolling=\"no\" src=\"https://playlist.megaphone.fm/?e=KQINC5141054590\" width=\"100%\" class=\"iframe-class\">\u003c/iframe>\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2 id=\"episode-transcript\">Episode Transcript\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">This is a computer-generated transcript. While our team has reviewed it, there may be errors.\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw, Host: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Today we’re in conversation with poet and educator Michelle Lee, better known as Mush. Growing up between San Francisco and Hercules, Mush didn’t identify as a poet or spoken word artist until her college days, which is funny because her family has a pretty deep and profound connection to words.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Michelle “Mush” Lee, Guest: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I\u003c/span>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> was helping my dad clear out the garage. There was a bunch of boxes with, you know, we open ‘em, it’s the same book. And it’s in Korean, and, you know, so we’re like, man, they’re like 200 copies of this book, what is it? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I go to the back, you know, where the artist bio and and picture is, and there’s my mom. It’s a whole book of poems that she secretly, somehow published in Korea. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Now, Mush is at the helm of Youth Speaks, a nationally recognized organization that\u003c/span> \u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">created a platform for young emerging poets. And it all started right here in Frisco!\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">As we continue to read news headlines about young people being on the forefront of combating climate change, pushing for reproductive rights, and organizing anti-war protests across our country, we’re going to hear how adults like Mush Lee are helping young poets raise their voices. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> \u003c/span>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I’m Rightnowish host, Pendarvis Harshaw, stick around for our conversation right after this.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw:\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> Before poetry, spoken word, you were attracted to the oral tradition through the church. How did that play a role in who you are?\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Michelle “Mush” Lee: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Thank you for asking it because it’s a straight, it’s a direct line to my grandparents. You know, I’m a first generation born in San Francisco, California. L\u003c/span>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">ike a lot of children of immigrant parents or parents that are just working hella hard, you know, you get bounced around from family to family. You know what I mean? The cousin, the uncle.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> \u003c/span>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">My grandfather was a Presbyterian pastor. \u003c/span>\u003cb> \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">You know, Presbyterians get a rap of being like the boring square and nerdy theological super textbook.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> \u003c/span>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">But still, even in my grandfather’s church, you know, I would always hear him behind the pew practicing. He would always be rehearsing. I’d always see him at his dinner table just writing and writing, reading scripture. So the act of going from the pen to the page to the book to the oral, mouth to the ear\u003c/span> \u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">That was something I think, that I was just exposed to at a really, really young age. And despite being super like Presbyterian Christians, like, there was still some version of call and response, like the Korean grandmother’s in the, you know, in the pews. They were they were, you know, doing their call and responsing. And so there’s certain elements of, I think, hip hop cultural spaces and hip hop ethos and spoken word that resonated very quickly for me, even though where I was first exposed to those kind of expressions was not necessarily through poetry at all.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">But the seed was planted and then\u003c/span> \u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">you stepped into poetry full on, all ten toes as a young adult. Bring me into that experience.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Michelle “Mush” Lee: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I was in the West Indies in undergrad. I was 19, maybe, studying abroad. The war breaks out. It was Bush’s first term, I think, Bush son, junior. And I just was alone. You know, there’s something about being lonely and alone and kind of physically apart and disconnected.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I got really reflective. I got really angry and I got scared, but mostly angry. So I started reading about what’s happening in the war. I started,I don’t know where, I just started watching YouTube.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I found some poets, some def poets, Def Poetry Jam poets and\u003c/span> \u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">you know. There was an invitation from a professor in my women’s studies class there at University of West Indies who, that come and do open mic, all the women in the class. So I wrote my first poem about like, f*ck Bush, you know, f*ck the war. A lot of f*cks in there\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">And also like, I’m the sh*t because I’m an Asian woman, you know, hear me that, you know, it’s like the first sound. We call it first sound, at Youth Speaks when it’s like the first time a poet really has to say something serious and meaningful and like it’s urgent, and then it just comes out like that. So it was my little first sound moment.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">And then as soon as I got back home that December, I hit every single open mic that I could. So my best friend, Merv drove me around. And that’s where I found Youth Speaks. And I was 19. Just turning 20.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">[Music]\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> You are the executive director of Youth Speaks. It’s a nationally renowned organization that promotes young folks using their voice to speak about what’s really going on. I need the origin story. Where did it all start?\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> \u003c/span>\u003cb>Michelle “Mush” Lee: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Legend is, is that it started in the back of somebody’s trunk, with a bunch of loose paper, pencils and books, like books of poetry. And it was like a roving mobile poetry workshop space before that became a thing. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">So shout out to our, our founders, James Kass, our founding artistic director, Mark Bamuthi Joseph. Of course, the legendary Paul Flores.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">The story is James Paul, they were MFA writers over at a university.\u003c/span> \u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">They’re like, man, what’s up with all these white writers? And like 78% of them are dead, \u003c/span>\u003cb> \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">and they said, you know, this can’t be right. You know, there’s got to be other ways of learning and engaging poetry and creative writing. And so they said ‘Look, why don’t we just hit up, schools and see if any teacher wants to, you know, give us 30 minutes of writing time?’ \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">And that was it. And we had the first youth poetry slam in the world that following year. Had no idea what was going to happen. Opened the doors in San Francisco, California and there was a line out the door, packed.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">What year we talking about?\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Michelle “Mush” Lee: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">The organization started formally, formed in 1996. So it was around the early 90s, you know, hip hop was taking kind of a global commercial stance, and it was becoming more relevant. You know, and hip hop theater was something that was starting to bubble up. You remember \u003c/span>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Carmen\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Oh yeah, with Beyonce and Mos Def, how can I forget?\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>[2001 movie trailer for “Carmen: A Hip Hopera”]\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Mekhi Phifer, Beyonce Knowles, Mos Def, Rah Digga, Da Brat, \u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Carmen, the original Hip Hopera\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> \u003c/span>\u003cb>Michelle “Mush” Lee: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">As I was going back during that time and figuring out what were the kind of the cultural moments that catalyzed some of, you know, the spoken word movement, the hip hop theater, hip hop education spaces? My memory brought me back to \u003c/span>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Carmen.\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> \u003c/span>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I remember watching it, and I love Beyonce then and now, but I remember watching it thinking, I don’t understand what’s happening! You know what I mean?! and i love beyonce and i love Mos and Mos def went on host 6 seasons of Def Poetry on HBO so that’s around the cultural moment and zeitgeist when Youth Speaks was being formed.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Got it okay, okay. And then put it in context, how does the event, the annual event, Brave New Voices play a part in spreading the idea behind Youth Speaks?\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Michelle “Mush” Lee: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">In 1997, we started the first, you know, hosted the first Youth Poetry Slam in Frisco in San Francisco. And, we realized quickly that there were other cities, you know, poets were teaching other young folks. And so four cities got together a couple of years later, in New Mexico and said, you know, let’s convene every year. Let’s just get us together\u003c/span> \u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">to create a space, 3 or 4 days, for young folks to just share their stories but also engage in this, like, oral poetic that was, again, from the hip hop culture, born of a very specific social context, from Black oral tradition. And, you know, it’s like when you meet your people, you find your people. And it’s like, by all means, any means and all means, like, let’s stay together.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">[Music]\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Michelle “Mush” Lee:\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">That became kind of the pathway to connecting with eventually what became a network of 60 different youth voice organizations in the country: every corner, including, some First Nations reservations. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">It was a way for young people to see and experience other poets who don’t look like them, who who might not even sound like them, definitely did not come from the same type of walk of life. But what, what bound everybody together was their love for the word and we thought that was the best type of exchange.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> \u003c/span>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">So Brave New Voices, toeing the line of three decades of being in existence and bringing young folks together to platform their voices and talk about issues that matter right now. Why is this July’s event so special and what’s the focus of it?\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> \u003c/span>\u003cb>Michelle “Mush” Lee: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">There’s this kind of collective, disposition that and spirit energy, whatever you want to call it, that says that things feel particularly difficult. You know, so language like collective grief, collective punishment, collective fatigue, collective exhaustion,it’s weighing on us. And let’s the, you know, the obvious this November is the presidential election.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">There’s a lot at stake, I think, and there’s a lot of legitimate resistance and frustration and rage amongst young people at the ways that our generation and our parents and grandparents generations um\u003c/span> \u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">voluntary or involuntary have created like, the conditions.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Yeah. What are some of the key issues that you folks are looking to talk about?\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> \u003c/span>\u003cb>Michelle “Mush” Lee: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">The stuff that comes up is social media and mental health,\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> \u003c/span>\u003cem>[Clip of Youth Speaks poet reciting poem on healing]\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">You believe that you are the definition of opaque. \u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">\u003cbr>\n\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">You don’t even realize that you are the centerpiece in a room of double-sided mirrors and if only you cupped your hands around the glass, you would realize this is what healing looks like,\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">\u003cbr>\n\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">allowing yourself to become some sort of transparency. \u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">\u003cbr>\n\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">And yes, they say healing is not linear, but healing is a revolving door..\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">\u003cbr>\n\u003c/span>\u003cb>Michelle “Mush” Lee: …\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">climate justice… \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>[Clip of Youth Speaks poets talking about climate justice]\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Abuelos and Abuelas\u003cbr>\n\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Kids scattered on playgrounds\u003cbr>\n\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Farmers toiling the fields\u003cbr>\n\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Boiling under blistering heat\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Michelle “Mush” Lee: …\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">kind of an interrogation of colonialism, rematriation movements. What does that mean? What does it mean to be indigenous and sovereign? Also, you know, American Samoa, and other kind of nations that are, have been struggling in movement and movement work to be able to take back their ancestral land.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Michelle “Mush” Lee: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Censorship,\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>[Clip of Youth Speaks poet reciting poem about banned books]\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">We are not perfect but our nation is based on hope. \u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">\u003cbr>\n\u003c/span>\u003c/i> \u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">We are always striving for a more perfect union \u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">\u003cbr>\n\u003c/span>\u003c/i> \u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">That hope is crushed when books are banned, \u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">\u003cbr>\n\u003c/span>\u003c/i> \u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">ripping away stories that need to be told. [audience hmm]\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">\u003cbr>\n\u003c/span>\u003c/i> \u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">If voices can be so easily muzzled in America, \u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">\u003cbr>\n\u003c/span>\u003c/i> \u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">what hope do people yearning for freedom have in \u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">\u003cbr>\n\u003c/span>\u003c/i> \u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Russia, China, Ukraine, Gaza?\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">\u003cbr>\n\u003c/span>\u003c/i> \u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Silencing books by banning them only leads to \u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">\u003cbr>\n\u003c/span>\u003c/i> \u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">silencing people by bombing them. [audience cheering]\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> \u003c/span>\u003cb>Michelle “Mush” Lee: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Last thing I’ll say is, underneath it all, one of the greatest powers that every poet I know has is the power to time travel. And by that, I mean\u003c/span> \u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">somebody says or shares something that you know is authentic, you know, is real and you know, took some type of risk to, to to share\u003c/span>\u003cb>. \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">And suddenly, you know them in a new way,\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> \u003c/span>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I don’t know how to describe that. I always just describe it as time travel. We don’t give it enough due credit. You know, funders are always trying to measure that stuff. I’m like, ‘you can’t measure it man You can’t. You just got to trust. Just come into this space and feel it. I promise you, you’re just gonna want to write checks to the shorties.’ But, yeah, I think that is one of the most magical things that a poet and most artists I know are able to do.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">The ability to connect people across, you know, imagined or real dividing lines is something that we’re trying to preserve through Brave New voices.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">i love that. I love that you said that it’s there are so many different issues to address. Underneath that is the human connection and the ability to create empathy, situations where people can be open to other people’s lived experiences. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">With that said, do you have any advice to a young poet, someone in their teens, 20s, or even an older person who’s looking to make their first sound, as you said?\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> \u003c/span>\u003cb>Michelle “Mush” Lee: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Look, I’m 41 years old. I was born in 1982. This is a different moment. You know, I have a child that’s 11 years old, so it’s a different moment. I recognize that. It’s really hard. I feel like it’s even harder for our young people today to feel like they can truly make mistakes and fail publicly.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> \u003c/span>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Shame based culture, there’s all kinds of stuff that existed even when we were children but it’s, it’s a different scale and scope. And so I would say, look, you’re going to suck. And it’s going to be fine. But if it feels right when you’re up there, no matter how much your paper is shaking, you got to keep doing it and that’s it.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> \u003c/span>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Once you put your pen to paper, don’t stop and seek out mentors. And then finally, come find Youth Speaks. Even if you’ve never written a poem,\u003c/span> \u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">and we will walk with you.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">[Music]\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Mush, thank you for your time, for your personal story and for assisting the next generation in telling their story. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Again, Mush is the Executive Director of Youth Speaks, you can learn more about that organization by checking out their website, \u003c/span>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">youthspeaks.org\u003c/span>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">This summer Youth Speaks will be one of the many poetry orgs participating in Brave New Voices in Washington D.C., for more info on that check youthspeaks.org/bravenewvoices\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">And for more on Mush, she’s on Instagram. You can find her @ Mush510_ \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">This episode was hosted by me, Pendarvis Harshaw. Marisol Medina-Cadena produced this episode. Chris Hambrick held it down for edits on this one. Christopher Beale engineered this joint. \u003c/span>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">The Rightnowish team is also supported by Jen Chien, Ugur Dursun, Holly Kernan, Cesar Saldaña, and Katie Sprenger. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Rightnowish is a KQED production. Until next time, peace!\u003cbr>\n\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter size-full wp-image-12127869\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"78\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-400x39.jpg 400w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-768x75.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>\u003cem>Rightnowish is an arts and culture podcast produced at KQED. Listen to it wherever you get your podcasts or click the play button at the top of this page and subscribe to the show on \u003ca href=\"https://www.npr.org/podcasts/721590300/rightnowish\">NPR One\u003c/a>, \u003ca href=\"https://open.spotify.com/show/7kEJuafTzTVan7B78ttz1I\">Spotify\u003c/a>, \u003ca href=\"https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/rightnowish/id1482187648\">Apple Podcasts\u003c/a>, \u003ca href=\"https://tunein.com/podcasts/Arts--Culture-Podcasts/Rightnowish-p1258245/\">TuneIn\u003c/a>, \u003ca href=\"https://www.stitcher.com/podcast/kqed/rightnowish\">Stitcher\u003c/a> or wherever you get your podcasts. \u003c/em>\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"","name":"ad","attributes":{"named":{"label":"fullwidth"},"numeric":["fullwidth"]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>=\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"","name":"ad","attributes":{"named":{"label":"floatright"},"numeric":["floatright"]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}}],"link":"/arts/13958221/when-the-youth-speak-mush-lee-listens","authors":["11491","11528"],"programs":["arts_8720"],"categories":["arts_1","arts_835"],"tags":["arts_22160","arts_1496","arts_2672"],"featImg":"arts_13958225","label":"arts_8720"},"arts_13957481":{"type":"posts","id":"arts_13957481","meta":{"index":"posts_1716263798","site":"arts","id":"13957481","score":null,"sort":[1715248831000]},"parent":0,"labelTerm":{"site":"arts","term":8720},"blocks":[],"publishDate":1715248831,"format":"audio","title":"‘Ear Hustle’ Introduces Us to Seniors in the California Institution for Women","headTitle":"‘Ear Hustle’ Introduces Us to Seniors in the California Institution for Women | KQED","content":"\u003cp>\u003ca href=\"#episode-transcript\">\u003ci>View the full episode transcript.\u003c/i>\u003c/a>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>As we celebrate Mother’s Day, we’re taking some time to honor all the kinds of relationships that people have with their mothers. We’re especially thinking about those who are missing their mothers or mothers who are missing their children.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>More than just thinking about them, we’re hearing from them. This week we’re passing the mic to our friends over at the podcast \u003ca href=\"https://www.earhustlesq.com/episodes/2023/9/20/once-youre-in-the-ocean-youre-going-everywhere\">Ear Hustle\u003c/a>, from PRX’s Radiotopia. It’s a special episode that highlights the stories of elderly mothers who are incarcerated at the California Institution for Women, a prison located in Chino, CA.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Their tales of aging behind bars while yearning for family are gut-wrenching but necessary. We can’t grow as a people unless we understand the plight of those on the margins of society. And when it comes to ensuring that we grow as a people, that’s something that mothers know best.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Happy Mother’s Day from the Rightnowish family!\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c!-- iframe plugin v.4.3 wordpress.org/plugins/iframe/ -->\u003cbr>\n\u003ciframe loading=\"lazy\" frameborder=\"0\" height=\"200\" scrolling=\"no\" src=\"https://playlist.megaphone.fm/?e=KQINC2810419346\" width=\"100%\" class=\"iframe-class\">\u003c/iframe>\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2 id=\"episode-transcript\">Episode Transcript\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">This is a computer-generated transcript. While our team has reviewed it, there may be errors.\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw, Rightnowish Host:\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> Hey ya’ll, welcome to Rightnowish. I’m your host Pendarvis Harshaw. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">It’s Mother’s Day weekend, a day for celebration — and for some, a day that opens wounds. I want to give some love to those who have strained relationships or are missing their moms in one way or another. I’m also thinking about the mothers who are missing their children.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Today, we’re going to hear from some mothers who are incarcerated, particularly senior women with adult children. We’ll do that by passing the mic to our friends at Radiotopia’s Ear Hustle, a podcast that shares the daily realities of life inside prison, from those living it.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">In this episode, co-hosts Earlonne Woods and Nigel Poor pay a visit to the senior center located at the California Institution for Women, and talk to residents about aging and navigating family relationships from within prison walls. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">A heavy, but much needed discussion, coming up right after this.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor, Ear Hustle Co-Host: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I’m just going to describe the scene a little bit. There’s a big television on the wall. It was probably about 54 inches and we’re watching PBS and there’s a woman stretching and Earlonne is really getting into it. He’s doing modern dance right now. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Earlonne Woods, Ear Hustle Co-Host: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Jeans, Nigel. These are not yoga pants. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">He’s still doing a really good job. And Bruce is even jumping in a little bit. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Earlonne Woods: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I can do that. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">[workout audio playing in the background] \u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Earlonne Woods: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">This was at the California Institution for Women, a prison near LA where you and I have been spending a lot of time these days, Nyge. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">And we are in a room they call the Senior Center. But don’t think about some big fancy complex. It’s basically a large carpeted windowless room in a structure that is kind of like a double-wide trailer. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Earlonne Woods: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Right. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Leslie: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Where’s your rhythm? You done threw us off.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">[background chattering] \u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Earlonne Woods: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">She’s going there. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Leslie: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I got a bad knee and a replaced knee now, y’all. \u003c/span>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">[laughter] \u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">You know how they always tell us we have to keep our distance inside prison? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Earlonne Woods: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Mm-hmm. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I loved how we could just kind of let our guard down a little bit. It was really fun to kick back and try to keep up with those ladies. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Earlonne Woods: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Yeah, I felt like I got my workout in for the day. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">[chuckles]\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Earlonne Woods: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I feel it. I definitely feel it. I feel stretched. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I’m putting my shoes back on. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Earlonne Woods: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Wait a minute. Hold on. What you mean you putting your shoes back on? Nigel, we only two minutes into this. Leslie’s still going. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I know. She’s good. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Leslie: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Are you done? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Earlonne Woods: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Our friend, Leslie, is kind of the ringleader here at the Senior Center, which come to think of it, just got a rebranding. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Yes, it did. So right now, we are in the She Shed, which I like better than the Senior Center, I have to say. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Leslie: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Yeah, it’s kind of fun. We’ll see how it goes over. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Yeah. It brings up conversation when you say it. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Leslie: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Yeah. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Earlonne Woods: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">You know, Nyge, with all the time that they give you in California, the prison population is kind of old. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">It’s aging. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Earlonne Woods: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">There are segments that are and have been there for a long time. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Definitely. And Leslie is part of that. She’s been in prison, I mean, since her 20s. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Earlonne Woods: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Yeah, 19. So, her idea for the Senior Center was, how can we make prison more accommodating for old people? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">So, Leslie convinced the prison to open up this room, and she got some boardgames and some greenery and lamps and started getting the word out. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Leslie: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">At first, I thought I would be like Julie from The Love Boat, create these programs, social director and all this. But it’s been a long, slow process of getting people curious and interested. At first, there was, I think, a feeling that this was a Band-Aid on an ongoing problem of the aging population, and so they weren’t going to come. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Were people angry at you or resentful that you were wanting to spearhead this? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Leslie: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I don’t think that– it could have been, and I missed it, but I think it was just more angry that they’re still incarcerated. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">[pensive music] \u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Leslie: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">We can’t do much about the diet, but we can stay in mental shape and physical and spiritual. This is hopefully more of a holistic thing to stay sharp and good and also being recognized, because I don’t think people are aware that there’s so many women over 60 incarcerated. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Gladys Ortiz: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">My name is Gladys Ortiz. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">What do you love about the Senior Center? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Gladys Ortiz: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">There’s so much to do there. Yeah, and you get to socialize with people your age.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Earlonne Woods: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">How long have you been incarcerated? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Gladys Ortiz: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Seven. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Earlonne Woods: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">And what is your sentence? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp> \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Gladys Ortiz: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I got 15 years. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Oka\u003c/span>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">y. How old were you when you came to prison? \u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Gladys Ortiz: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">60 years old. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Had you ever been to prison before? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Gladys Ortiz: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Never. It’s a little embarrassing too, because I have my grown children who now have to learn how to maneuver prison. And then, I learned about 50-minute phone calls. I never thought I’d be here. Never. It’s like, wow. None of my friends back home– I’ve disappeared, I’ve just fallen off the face of the earth. Nobody knows I’m here. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">What do they think happened to you? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Gladys Ortiz: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I don’t know. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">These older women, you don’t really see them when you’re walking around the main part of the prison. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Earlonne Woods: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Nah, they don’t hang out like that. They probably spend a lot of their time in the cell. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">So, it’s actually cool when you get to the Senior Center and it’s a place just for them. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Earlonne Woods: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Yep. It’s a cubbyhole, you know what I’m saying? They get to go hang out. They got air conditioning and you definitely need that in that part of California. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">You definitely want air conditioning. So, I think that makes it attractive. But it’s open every day and they have so many activities, like the exercising. They have different people coming in to give talks. And once a week, I think at least once a week, they show movies. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Earlonne Woods: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Have you all seen The Notebook? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Female Speaker: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Yeah. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Leslie: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Oh, yeah. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">What do you think of it? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Leslie: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I wasn’t into it. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Men love this movie and women are like, “Really?” Oh, wait a minute. You said you loved it? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Female Speaker: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Yes, I loved it. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Oh, okay. I take back what I said. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">[laughter] \u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Female Speaker: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I thought it was interesting and educational for people who’ve never had an instance to recognize Alzheimer’s.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>\u003cbr>\n\u003c/b>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Earlonne I love this. Men see The Notebook as a romance movie, and women, at least here at the Senior Center, see it as an Alzheimer’s movie. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Female Speaker: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Okay. It’s quite a distressing disease, not only for the person suffering, but for all of the family as well. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">So, you were more drawn to it because of that, not because of the romance? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Female Speaker: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Oh, not the romance. [laughs] I want you to see how they portray the Alzheimer’s. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Leslie: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">The romance seemed a little corny. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I just have to say this, I’ve never met so many men in my life that cried over this movie than at San Quentin. Even this dude got all teary about it. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Earlonne Woods: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Did I? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Leslie: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Oh, we need to rewatch it and think about that. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">You told me you did, you find it very emotional. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Earlonne Woods: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">It was a cool story. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">So, one of the most popular things to do in this little area are these bicycles. \u003c/span>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">\u003cbr>\n\u003c/span>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Really? Bicycles? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Earlonne Woods: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I mean well, they’re like miniatures. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">They’re like little pedals on the ground. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Earlonne Woods: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Pedals, sprockets. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">So, after the stretching, I think we wanted to redeem ourselves, so we both sat down and started pedaling. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Earlonne Woods: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I’m Earlonne Woods. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I’m Nigel. Nigel Poor. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>LaVelma: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Nigel. Earlonne. And? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Bruce: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Bruce. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>LaVelma Byrd: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Bruce. LaVelma Byrd. Yes, thank you. Pleased to meet you all. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Earlonne Woods: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">How long have you been here, LaVelma? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>LaVelma: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Well, 29 years. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">What are you doing right now. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>LaVelma Byrd: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">You seen that little thing on TV where people sit in their chair and work their legs? That’s what this is. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>\u003cbr>\n\u003c/b>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">It’s like a bike. A little bike. And are you a senior? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>LaVelma Byrd: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I’m 72. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">72, okay. What is this? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>LaVelma Byrd: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Because I have arthritis in both of my hands and the bouncing, I made this little soft cushion for my hands when I’m walking with my walker. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Do you remember LaVelma and her walker? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Earlonne Woods: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Yeah, yeah. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">It was all decked out. She’d done all this handiwork crocheting to make the handles softer and give it some personality. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Earlonne Woods: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Yeah, she was cool. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Do you find that do you stay separate from the younger people? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>LaVelma Byrd: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">As much as possible. [laughs] I’m going to be totally honest. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Earlonne Woods: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Are they bullies, or they just have a different way? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>LaVelma Byrd: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Yes. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Do you think it would be a good idea to have younger people house separately? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>LaVelma Byrd: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Yes, ma’am. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Yeah. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>LaVelma Byrd: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">And some of the old rowdy ones too. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">[laughter] \u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>LaVelma Byrd: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Don’t leave them out. There’s a few of them too. They’re up in age. They should know better. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Earlonne Woods: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">When you stepped in here 29 years ago, how was you moving? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>LaVelma Byrd: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Oh, I was out working out every day. I was running 30 laps around the track every day. I was in good shape when I came here. But now, gravity and everything else have caught up with me. \u003cem>[laughs] \u003c/em>\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Christine: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I’m Ms. Christine. We started calling each other– the older people started calling us by our first names, but we say Miss. So, Ms. Lainey, Ms. Candice, Ms. Christine, Ms. Leslie. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Leslie: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I didn’t know that. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">[laughter] \u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">You remember Christine, right?\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Earlonne Woods: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Yep. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">She definitely spends a lot of time down the Senior Center. And she had that beautiful long \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Earlonne Woods: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Braid. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">-silver braid. And she’s the type of person that likes to sit against the wall and kind of take in the whole scene, makes sure she knows everything that’s happening down there. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Christine: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I’ve been here four years and was three years in Chowchilla, so I haven’t been here as long as some people. I came to prison when I was 72. Not all of us are lifelong criminals. And speaking for myself, most of my friends have been teachers and nurses and lawyers, and one is a doctor. And we are not lifelong criminals, and we’d really prefer not to be around criminal activity in prison. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I know I’m a criminal. I did commit a crime when I was 71. But as a person, I am not a criminal. I’ve not ever led a criminal lifestyle. I was never arrested before. And many of these older people are in the same boat that I’m in. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Earlonne Woods: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">It took 71 years to commit a crime? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Christine: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Yes. Alcohol and a loaded gun, and one second, and now I’m a criminal for the rest of my life. But I’m not asking for sympathy. I know that’s what happened, and I know that I’m here. I just would prefer while in prison not to be around people who led a criminal lifestyle. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Now, we don’t normally do this, but you brought it up. Can we ask you what your crime was? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Christine: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Yes. I killed someone when I was drunk and a loaded gun was there. I am here for first-degree murder, and not only first degree, but also gun enhancement, which means that I’ll never get out. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">And who did you kill? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Christine: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I killed a close relative. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">So, what we really wanted to talk to you about is what is it like, as you were saying, to come to prison at 71 when you’ve lived a long, professional life? I believe you were– \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Christine: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I was a retired nurse. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">And how does someone adjust? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Christine: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">It’s a rude shock. [chuckles] It’s a very rude shock. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Yeah. I mean, did you ever see this in your future? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Christine: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">No. I never thought about prison. I never considered prison. It was totally not in my world. I always thought that really, really bad, hardened people who had committed terrible crimes went to prison, obviously. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Tell us, what is it like when you’re 71 to walk into a prison? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Christine: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">They gave me an upper bunk, first of all, which it was hard. It was hard because I have to get up and pee during the night. So, it means you have to come down carefully, get to the bathroom, get up carefully without waking anybody up and all that a couple of times a night. It was very difficult. I was put in with people that fought in the room, had fights with each other, girlfriends, always these jealousy fights and blood, women having sex with each other in the shower or over to the side of me. And I got used to all of that. But people being up all night because they were tweaking and they were up all night making noise, and I couldn’t sleep. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I moved into a room with this couple, and they liked to play the radio really loud, and it was rap music. And I asked them one day if they would turn it down, and they just turned on me [chuckles] like wild beasts. And they told me, “Get out of the room.” And I got out of the room for a while. But you can absolutely not tell anybody in the room in Chowchilla what kind of noise they can make or can’t make. That’s a huge issue. I had no clout at all. I had no clout. I had nothing. I didn’t sell drugs. I didn’t have any stature there at all. So I was like at the bottom of the heap. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Earlonne Woods: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">You were just an old person in prison. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Christine: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I was an old person without a whole lot to offer. And I wasn’t even an interesting old person that could do drugs or something or that had anything going for me in prison at all. I didn’t have anything. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Lanie: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">My name’s Lanie. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">How long have you been in prison? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Lanie: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Since 1988. I’m sorry I have a new partial– \u003c/span>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">[laughs]\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> and I’m having a hard time in case I sound a little old lady stuff. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Earlonne Woods: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Lanie came in, she had those bright eyes with the short hairstyle, and she was very engaging. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Yeah. I mean, I found her proper. I don’t know what else to say. Hospitable. And she seemed to me like a character out of a southern novel. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Earlonne Woods: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Kentucky Derby. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Maybe, with the hat and the gloves. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Earlonne Woods: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">The hat and the gloves. Betting on horses. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Ooh. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">[laughter] \u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">How old are you? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Lanie: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I’m 76 now. I was 41 then. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Earlonne Woods: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">What’s your sentence? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Lanie: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">LWOP.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Earlonne Woods: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">LWOP stands for life without parole. Most people say life without the possibility of parole, but it’s life without parole. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Right. And considering that’s what she’s dealing with, there’s a lot more going on with her beyond this proper southern lady description we gave. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Earlonne Woods: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Oh, definitely. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">What is the Senior Center about? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Lanie: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">When it first opened, I wasn’t real impressed because I thought it was just a way for them to say they did something for us when we’re really used to being invisible. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">When you say invisible, do you mean being someone who’s in prison or being a woman, being someone who’s older? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Lanie: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Being elderly. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Can you talk about that invisibility? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Lanie: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">This is set up for young people, basically. Even at 50, I felt young. You can do it. You can keep up with the program. You can hustle. You just keep the pace. It’s a fast pace. And at 76, I don’t care how hard you try, and I’ve got two hip replacements and deteriorating bones. You can’t keep the pace anymore. You just can’t. The getting up, even getting ready and getting out the door, it’s a challenge. Or to get to the shower and to have to use a particular shower because another shower is slippery and you might fall. There are struggles everywhere. I don’t want to go around saying, “I can’t do this,” or, “I can’t do that.” I got the cane and I won’t make it. The grace of God, I’m going to be okay. But it makes it so much more difficult. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">We have a lot of people here now who are over 70, 75, 80 years old, and I don’t think they’ve ever had this kind of accumulation of elderly before. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">So, when you came in at 41, is that what you said, were there elderly women? \u003c/span>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">\u003cbr>\n\u003c/span>\u003cb>Lanie: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Very, very few. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">And do you remember seeing any older women– \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Lanie: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Oh, yes. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">And what did you think when–? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Lanie: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Oh, my heart went out to them because I had wonderful relationships with my grandparents. And so, you try to help them. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">But when you saw them, did it worry you, like, “Oh, my God, that could be me one day”? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Lanie: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I never thought that this would last that long. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Earlonne Woods: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">When I first came into the women’s prison, I was thrown by seeing older women in prison. It wasn’t even in my mindset. I didn’t even think older women would be in prison. And I spent a long time in men prison. I’m used to seeing older men, and when I seen it, I was like, “Damn.” I don’t know, that was one of them days you just left depleted. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Lanie: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Are there a lot of older men in prison? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Yes. Earlonne and I have talked about this a lot. We find it way harder to see older women in prison. I don’t think about it when I’m at a men’s prison and there’s plenty of old men there. Why do you think it’s so much harder for us to see older women in prison? Like you said, it’s draining. It is really heavy. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Lanie: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Well, that’s a good question. And it’s interesting because to me, it would be sad to see older men too. It’s sad with women because the saddest thing for me is family. I’ll start crying if I talk about it, so I’d rather not. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Yeah, but why do you think it affects us so much? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Lanie: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Well, because we’re maternal. Mothers are not meant to make mistakes and commit crimes and come to prison. We’re just not. And I hate the fact that I did this to my family. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I feel like older women are not supposed to be in prison, and I’m trying to figure out why I don’t have that feeling about older men. You know what I mean? It’s very hard for me to separate my heart feeling. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Lanie: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Were you very close to your mother? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I’m very close to my mother. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Lanie: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I think, like I said before, we’re all a product of our environment. Just like me, I had a great relationship, as I said, not only with my grandparents, but with my mother. So, when I would see these elderly ladies in prison when I first came, I’d make their beds, I’d do their laundry, anything I could to help them. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Your supposition is that the three of us have very close relationships with older women in our lives, or did. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Lanie: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Maybe if not even with your inner family, with someone older that influenced your life. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">But now, I’m smiling because what does that say about what we think about men? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Lanie: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Well, did you have a great relationship with your father? [laughs] \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I have very different feelings about men than I have about women. And now, I’m wondering–\u003c/span>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> [crosstalk] \u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Lanie: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">And I do too. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Thank you for that revelation. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">[chuckles] \u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Lanie: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">And I’m ready for the hereafter. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">You are? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Lanie: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Yes. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">How so? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Lanie: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Well, I believe I’m going to heaven. I believe in heaven. I don’t have a real close personal relationship with my grandchildren because my son was raised coming to prison to see mom. He was only six at the time. And he has decided he doesn’t want his children to know that I’m in prison. And I have to respect that. My son and I talk a couple of times a week, and I get tons and tons of pictures and videos and everything of the kids, but we tiptoe around it, and it’s heartbreaking. My daughter-in-law is a schoolteacher, and she’s wonderful. But she was trying to get him to go to a funeral one day. He who’s usually very accommodating and kind, said, “I’m not going to any funerals. I live with the death that never ends.” Meaning I can’t take anymore. He’s very emotional. And so, I think once I’m gone I’m gone, and he don’t have to continue living the death that never ends. “My mom’s gone, and she can’t come home.” \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Yeah. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Lanie: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">So, it’s heavy. It’s heavy aging in prison and not just dealing with it myself but trying to help others to deal with it. My family, especially my child. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Yeah. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Lanie: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">The heartache never ends. You accept it, but it doesn’t mean that it doesn’t hurt.\u003cbr>\n\u003c/span>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">\u003cbr>\n\u003c/span>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Yeah.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp> \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw, Rightnowish Host: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">That was an excerpt from Radiotopia’s podcast, Ear Hustle. To listen to the rest of this episode look up “Ep 94: Once You’re in the Ocean, You’re Going Everywhere” on ear hustlesq.com. To hear other Ear Hustle episodes- they have 13 seasons so plenty to immerse yourself in- find them on your favorite podcast app. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Big ups to their team! Ear Hustle is produced by Nigel Poor, Earlonne Woods, Amy Standen, Bruce Wallace, and Rahsaan “New York” Thomas. Shabnam Sigman is the managing producer. The producing team inside San Quentin includes Steve Brooks, Derrell Sadiq Davis, Tony de Trinidad, Tam Nguyen and Tony Tafoya. Earlonne Woods sound designs and engineers the show with help from Fernando Arruda and Derrell Sadiq Davis. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">This episode was made possible by The Just Trust, working to amplify the voices, vision and power of communities that are transforming the justice system. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Thanks y’all. Love on your people. Peace.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter size-full wp-image-12127869\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"78\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-400x39.jpg 400w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-768x75.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>\u003cem>Rightnowish is an arts and culture podcast produced at KQED. Listen to it wherever you get your podcasts or click the play button at the top of this page and subscribe to the show on \u003ca href=\"https://www.npr.org/podcasts/721590300/rightnowish\">NPR One\u003c/a>, \u003ca href=\"https://open.spotify.com/show/7kEJuafTzTVan7B78ttz1I\">Spotify\u003c/a>, \u003ca href=\"https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/rightnowish/id1482187648\">Apple Podcasts\u003c/a>, \u003ca href=\"https://tunein.com/podcasts/Arts--Culture-Podcasts/Rightnowish-p1258245/\">TuneIn\u003c/a>, \u003ca href=\"https://www.stitcher.com/podcast/kqed/rightnowish\">Stitcher\u003c/a> or wherever you get your podcasts. \u003c/em>\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]=\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad floatright]\u003c/p>\n","stats":{"hasVideo":false,"hasChartOrMap":false,"hasAudio":true,"hasPolis":false,"wordCount":4973,"hasGoogleForm":false,"hasGallery":false,"hasHearkenModule":false,"iframeSrcs":[],"paragraphCount":215},"modified":1715213135,"excerpt":"Prisons weren’t designed for older folks, and the California Institution for Women is no exception.","headData":{"twImgId":"","twTitle":"","ogTitle":"","ogImgId":"","twDescription":"","description":"We're sharing an episode of "Ear Hustle" podcast from PRX’s Radiotopia. It highlights the stories of seniors who are incarcerated at California's Institution for Women, a prison located in Chino, CA.","socialDescription":"We're sharing an episode of "Ear Hustle" podcast from PRX’s Radiotopia. It highlights the stories of seniors who are incarcerated at California's Institution for Women, a prison located in Chino, CA.","title":"‘Ear Hustle’ Introduces Us to Seniors in the California Institution for Women | KQED","ogDescription":"","schema":{"@context":"http://schema.org","@type":"Article","headline":"‘Ear Hustle’ Introduces Us to Seniors in the California Institution for Women","datePublished":"2024-05-09T03:00:31-07:00","dateModified":"2024-05-08T17:05:35-07:00","image":"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/02/KQED-OG-Image@1x.png"}},"guestAuthors":[],"slug":"ear-hustle-introduces-us-to-the-seniors-of-california-institution-for-women","status":"publish","templateType":"standard","audioUrl":"https://www.podtrac.com/pts/redirect.mp3/chrt.fm/track/G6C7C3/traffic.megaphone.fm/KQINC2810419346.mp3?updated=1715202639","excludeFromSiteSearch":"Include","featuredImageType":"standard","sticky":false,"articleAge":"0","path":"/arts/13957481/ear-hustle-introduces-us-to-the-seniors-of-california-institution-for-women","audioTrackLength":null,"parsedContent":[{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp>\u003ca href=\"#episode-transcript\">\u003ci>View the full episode transcript.\u003c/i>\u003c/a>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>As we celebrate Mother’s Day, we’re taking some time to honor all the kinds of relationships that people have with their mothers. We’re especially thinking about those who are missing their mothers or mothers who are missing their children.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>More than just thinking about them, we’re hearing from them. This week we’re passing the mic to our friends over at the podcast \u003ca href=\"https://www.earhustlesq.com/episodes/2023/9/20/once-youre-in-the-ocean-youre-going-everywhere\">Ear Hustle\u003c/a>, from PRX’s Radiotopia. It’s a special episode that highlights the stories of elderly mothers who are incarcerated at the California Institution for Women, a prison located in Chino, CA.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Their tales of aging behind bars while yearning for family are gut-wrenching but necessary. We can’t grow as a people unless we understand the plight of those on the margins of society. And when it comes to ensuring that we grow as a people, that’s something that mothers know best.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Happy Mother’s Day from the Rightnowish family!\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c!-- iframe plugin v.4.3 wordpress.org/plugins/iframe/ -->\u003cbr>\n\u003ciframe loading=\"lazy\" frameborder=\"0\" height=\"200\" scrolling=\"no\" src=\"https://playlist.megaphone.fm/?e=KQINC2810419346\" width=\"100%\" class=\"iframe-class\">\u003c/iframe>\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2 id=\"episode-transcript\">Episode Transcript\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">This is a computer-generated transcript. While our team has reviewed it, there may be errors.\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw, Rightnowish Host:\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> Hey ya’ll, welcome to Rightnowish. I’m your host Pendarvis Harshaw. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">It’s Mother’s Day weekend, a day for celebration — and for some, a day that opens wounds. I want to give some love to those who have strained relationships or are missing their moms in one way or another. I’m also thinking about the mothers who are missing their children.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Today, we’re going to hear from some mothers who are incarcerated, particularly senior women with adult children. We’ll do that by passing the mic to our friends at Radiotopia’s Ear Hustle, a podcast that shares the daily realities of life inside prison, from those living it.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">In this episode, co-hosts Earlonne Woods and Nigel Poor pay a visit to the senior center located at the California Institution for Women, and talk to residents about aging and navigating family relationships from within prison walls. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">A heavy, but much needed discussion, coming up right after this.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor, Ear Hustle Co-Host: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I’m just going to describe the scene a little bit. There’s a big television on the wall. It was probably about 54 inches and we’re watching PBS and there’s a woman stretching and Earlonne is really getting into it. He’s doing modern dance right now. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Earlonne Woods, Ear Hustle Co-Host: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Jeans, Nigel. These are not yoga pants. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">He’s still doing a really good job. And Bruce is even jumping in a little bit. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Earlonne Woods: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I can do that. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">[workout audio playing in the background] \u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Earlonne Woods: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">This was at the California Institution for Women, a prison near LA where you and I have been spending a lot of time these days, Nyge. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">And we are in a room they call the Senior Center. But don’t think about some big fancy complex. It’s basically a large carpeted windowless room in a structure that is kind of like a double-wide trailer. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Earlonne Woods: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Right. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Leslie: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Where’s your rhythm? You done threw us off.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">[background chattering] \u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Earlonne Woods: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">She’s going there. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Leslie: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I got a bad knee and a replaced knee now, y’all. \u003c/span>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">[laughter] \u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">You know how they always tell us we have to keep our distance inside prison? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Earlonne Woods: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Mm-hmm. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I loved how we could just kind of let our guard down a little bit. It was really fun to kick back and try to keep up with those ladies. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Earlonne Woods: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Yeah, I felt like I got my workout in for the day. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">[chuckles]\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Earlonne Woods: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I feel it. I definitely feel it. I feel stretched. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I’m putting my shoes back on. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Earlonne Woods: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Wait a minute. Hold on. What you mean you putting your shoes back on? Nigel, we only two minutes into this. Leslie’s still going. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I know. She’s good. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Leslie: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Are you done? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Earlonne Woods: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Our friend, Leslie, is kind of the ringleader here at the Senior Center, which come to think of it, just got a rebranding. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Yes, it did. So right now, we are in the She Shed, which I like better than the Senior Center, I have to say. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Leslie: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Yeah, it’s kind of fun. We’ll see how it goes over. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Yeah. It brings up conversation when you say it. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Leslie: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Yeah. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Earlonne Woods: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">You know, Nyge, with all the time that they give you in California, the prison population is kind of old. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">It’s aging. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Earlonne Woods: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">There are segments that are and have been there for a long time. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Definitely. And Leslie is part of that. She’s been in prison, I mean, since her 20s. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Earlonne Woods: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Yeah, 19. So, her idea for the Senior Center was, how can we make prison more accommodating for old people? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">So, Leslie convinced the prison to open up this room, and she got some boardgames and some greenery and lamps and started getting the word out. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Leslie: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">At first, I thought I would be like Julie from The Love Boat, create these programs, social director and all this. But it’s been a long, slow process of getting people curious and interested. At first, there was, I think, a feeling that this was a Band-Aid on an ongoing problem of the aging population, and so they weren’t going to come. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Were people angry at you or resentful that you were wanting to spearhead this? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Leslie: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I don’t think that– it could have been, and I missed it, but I think it was just more angry that they’re still incarcerated. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">[pensive music] \u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Leslie: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">We can’t do much about the diet, but we can stay in mental shape and physical and spiritual. This is hopefully more of a holistic thing to stay sharp and good and also being recognized, because I don’t think people are aware that there’s so many women over 60 incarcerated. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Gladys Ortiz: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">My name is Gladys Ortiz. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">What do you love about the Senior Center? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Gladys Ortiz: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">There’s so much to do there. Yeah, and you get to socialize with people your age.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Earlonne Woods: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">How long have you been incarcerated? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Gladys Ortiz: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Seven. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Earlonne Woods: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">And what is your sentence? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp> \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Gladys Ortiz: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I got 15 years. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Oka\u003c/span>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">y. How old were you when you came to prison? \u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Gladys Ortiz: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">60 years old. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Had you ever been to prison before? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Gladys Ortiz: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Never. It’s a little embarrassing too, because I have my grown children who now have to learn how to maneuver prison. And then, I learned about 50-minute phone calls. I never thought I’d be here. Never. It’s like, wow. None of my friends back home– I’ve disappeared, I’ve just fallen off the face of the earth. Nobody knows I’m here. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">What do they think happened to you? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Gladys Ortiz: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I don’t know. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">These older women, you don’t really see them when you’re walking around the main part of the prison. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Earlonne Woods: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Nah, they don’t hang out like that. They probably spend a lot of their time in the cell. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">So, it’s actually cool when you get to the Senior Center and it’s a place just for them. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Earlonne Woods: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Yep. It’s a cubbyhole, you know what I’m saying? They get to go hang out. They got air conditioning and you definitely need that in that part of California. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">You definitely want air conditioning. So, I think that makes it attractive. But it’s open every day and they have so many activities, like the exercising. They have different people coming in to give talks. And once a week, I think at least once a week, they show movies. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Earlonne Woods: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Have you all seen The Notebook? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Female Speaker: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Yeah. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Leslie: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Oh, yeah. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">What do you think of it? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Leslie: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I wasn’t into it. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Men love this movie and women are like, “Really?” Oh, wait a minute. You said you loved it? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Female Speaker: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Yes, I loved it. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Oh, okay. I take back what I said. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">[laughter] \u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Female Speaker: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I thought it was interesting and educational for people who’ve never had an instance to recognize Alzheimer’s.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>\u003cbr>\n\u003c/b>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Earlonne I love this. Men see The Notebook as a romance movie, and women, at least here at the Senior Center, see it as an Alzheimer’s movie. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Female Speaker: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Okay. It’s quite a distressing disease, not only for the person suffering, but for all of the family as well. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">So, you were more drawn to it because of that, not because of the romance? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Female Speaker: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Oh, not the romance. [laughs] I want you to see how they portray the Alzheimer’s. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Leslie: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">The romance seemed a little corny. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I just have to say this, I’ve never met so many men in my life that cried over this movie than at San Quentin. Even this dude got all teary about it. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Earlonne Woods: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Did I? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Leslie: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Oh, we need to rewatch it and think about that. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">You told me you did, you find it very emotional. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Earlonne Woods: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">It was a cool story. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">So, one of the most popular things to do in this little area are these bicycles. \u003c/span>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">\u003cbr>\n\u003c/span>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Really? Bicycles? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Earlonne Woods: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I mean well, they’re like miniatures. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">They’re like little pedals on the ground. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Earlonne Woods: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Pedals, sprockets. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">So, after the stretching, I think we wanted to redeem ourselves, so we both sat down and started pedaling. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Earlonne Woods: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I’m Earlonne Woods. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I’m Nigel. Nigel Poor. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>LaVelma: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Nigel. Earlonne. And? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Bruce: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Bruce. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>LaVelma Byrd: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Bruce. LaVelma Byrd. Yes, thank you. Pleased to meet you all. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Earlonne Woods: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">How long have you been here, LaVelma? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>LaVelma: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Well, 29 years. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">What are you doing right now. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>LaVelma Byrd: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">You seen that little thing on TV where people sit in their chair and work their legs? That’s what this is. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>\u003cbr>\n\u003c/b>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">It’s like a bike. A little bike. And are you a senior? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>LaVelma Byrd: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I’m 72. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">72, okay. What is this? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>LaVelma Byrd: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Because I have arthritis in both of my hands and the bouncing, I made this little soft cushion for my hands when I’m walking with my walker. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Do you remember LaVelma and her walker? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Earlonne Woods: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Yeah, yeah. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">It was all decked out. She’d done all this handiwork crocheting to make the handles softer and give it some personality. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Earlonne Woods: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Yeah, she was cool. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Do you find that do you stay separate from the younger people? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>LaVelma Byrd: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">As much as possible. [laughs] I’m going to be totally honest. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Earlonne Woods: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Are they bullies, or they just have a different way? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>LaVelma Byrd: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Yes. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Do you think it would be a good idea to have younger people house separately? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>LaVelma Byrd: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Yes, ma’am. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Yeah. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>LaVelma Byrd: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">And some of the old rowdy ones too. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">[laughter] \u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>LaVelma Byrd: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Don’t leave them out. There’s a few of them too. They’re up in age. They should know better. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Earlonne Woods: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">When you stepped in here 29 years ago, how was you moving? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>LaVelma Byrd: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Oh, I was out working out every day. I was running 30 laps around the track every day. I was in good shape when I came here. But now, gravity and everything else have caught up with me. \u003cem>[laughs] \u003c/em>\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Christine: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I’m Ms. Christine. We started calling each other– the older people started calling us by our first names, but we say Miss. So, Ms. Lainey, Ms. Candice, Ms. Christine, Ms. Leslie. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Leslie: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I didn’t know that. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">[laughter] \u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">You remember Christine, right?\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Earlonne Woods: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Yep. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">She definitely spends a lot of time down the Senior Center. And she had that beautiful long \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Earlonne Woods: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Braid. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">-silver braid. And she’s the type of person that likes to sit against the wall and kind of take in the whole scene, makes sure she knows everything that’s happening down there. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Christine: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I’ve been here four years and was three years in Chowchilla, so I haven’t been here as long as some people. I came to prison when I was 72. Not all of us are lifelong criminals. And speaking for myself, most of my friends have been teachers and nurses and lawyers, and one is a doctor. And we are not lifelong criminals, and we’d really prefer not to be around criminal activity in prison. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I know I’m a criminal. I did commit a crime when I was 71. But as a person, I am not a criminal. I’ve not ever led a criminal lifestyle. I was never arrested before. And many of these older people are in the same boat that I’m in. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Earlonne Woods: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">It took 71 years to commit a crime? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Christine: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Yes. Alcohol and a loaded gun, and one second, and now I’m a criminal for the rest of my life. But I’m not asking for sympathy. I know that’s what happened, and I know that I’m here. I just would prefer while in prison not to be around people who led a criminal lifestyle. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Now, we don’t normally do this, but you brought it up. Can we ask you what your crime was? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Christine: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Yes. I killed someone when I was drunk and a loaded gun was there. I am here for first-degree murder, and not only first degree, but also gun enhancement, which means that I’ll never get out. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">And who did you kill? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Christine: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I killed a close relative. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">So, what we really wanted to talk to you about is what is it like, as you were saying, to come to prison at 71 when you’ve lived a long, professional life? I believe you were– \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Christine: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I was a retired nurse. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">And how does someone adjust? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Christine: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">It’s a rude shock. [chuckles] It’s a very rude shock. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Yeah. I mean, did you ever see this in your future? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Christine: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">No. I never thought about prison. I never considered prison. It was totally not in my world. I always thought that really, really bad, hardened people who had committed terrible crimes went to prison, obviously. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Tell us, what is it like when you’re 71 to walk into a prison? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Christine: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">They gave me an upper bunk, first of all, which it was hard. It was hard because I have to get up and pee during the night. So, it means you have to come down carefully, get to the bathroom, get up carefully without waking anybody up and all that a couple of times a night. It was very difficult. I was put in with people that fought in the room, had fights with each other, girlfriends, always these jealousy fights and blood, women having sex with each other in the shower or over to the side of me. And I got used to all of that. But people being up all night because they were tweaking and they were up all night making noise, and I couldn’t sleep. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I moved into a room with this couple, and they liked to play the radio really loud, and it was rap music. And I asked them one day if they would turn it down, and they just turned on me [chuckles] like wild beasts. And they told me, “Get out of the room.” And I got out of the room for a while. But you can absolutely not tell anybody in the room in Chowchilla what kind of noise they can make or can’t make. That’s a huge issue. I had no clout at all. I had no clout. I had nothing. I didn’t sell drugs. I didn’t have any stature there at all. So I was like at the bottom of the heap. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Earlonne Woods: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">You were just an old person in prison. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Christine: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I was an old person without a whole lot to offer. And I wasn’t even an interesting old person that could do drugs or something or that had anything going for me in prison at all. I didn’t have anything. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Lanie: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">My name’s Lanie. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">How long have you been in prison? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Lanie: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Since 1988. I’m sorry I have a new partial– \u003c/span>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">[laughs]\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> and I’m having a hard time in case I sound a little old lady stuff. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Earlonne Woods: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Lanie came in, she had those bright eyes with the short hairstyle, and she was very engaging. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Yeah. I mean, I found her proper. I don’t know what else to say. Hospitable. And she seemed to me like a character out of a southern novel. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Earlonne Woods: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Kentucky Derby. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Maybe, with the hat and the gloves. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Earlonne Woods: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">The hat and the gloves. Betting on horses. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Ooh. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">[laughter] \u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">How old are you? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Lanie: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I’m 76 now. I was 41 then. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Earlonne Woods: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">What’s your sentence? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Lanie: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">LWOP.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Earlonne Woods: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">LWOP stands for life without parole. Most people say life without the possibility of parole, but it’s life without parole. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Right. And considering that’s what she’s dealing with, there’s a lot more going on with her beyond this proper southern lady description we gave. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Earlonne Woods: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Oh, definitely. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">What is the Senior Center about? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Lanie: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">When it first opened, I wasn’t real impressed because I thought it was just a way for them to say they did something for us when we’re really used to being invisible. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">When you say invisible, do you mean being someone who’s in prison or being a woman, being someone who’s older? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Lanie: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Being elderly. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Can you talk about that invisibility? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Lanie: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">This is set up for young people, basically. Even at 50, I felt young. You can do it. You can keep up with the program. You can hustle. You just keep the pace. It’s a fast pace. And at 76, I don’t care how hard you try, and I’ve got two hip replacements and deteriorating bones. You can’t keep the pace anymore. You just can’t. The getting up, even getting ready and getting out the door, it’s a challenge. Or to get to the shower and to have to use a particular shower because another shower is slippery and you might fall. There are struggles everywhere. I don’t want to go around saying, “I can’t do this,” or, “I can’t do that.” I got the cane and I won’t make it. The grace of God, I’m going to be okay. But it makes it so much more difficult. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">We have a lot of people here now who are over 70, 75, 80 years old, and I don’t think they’ve ever had this kind of accumulation of elderly before. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">So, when you came in at 41, is that what you said, were there elderly women? \u003c/span>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">\u003cbr>\n\u003c/span>\u003cb>Lanie: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Very, very few. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">And do you remember seeing any older women– \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Lanie: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Oh, yes. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">And what did you think when–? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Lanie: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Oh, my heart went out to them because I had wonderful relationships with my grandparents. And so, you try to help them. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">But when you saw them, did it worry you, like, “Oh, my God, that could be me one day”? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Lanie: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I never thought that this would last that long. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Earlonne Woods: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">When I first came into the women’s prison, I was thrown by seeing older women in prison. It wasn’t even in my mindset. I didn’t even think older women would be in prison. And I spent a long time in men prison. I’m used to seeing older men, and when I seen it, I was like, “Damn.” I don’t know, that was one of them days you just left depleted. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Lanie: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Are there a lot of older men in prison? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Yes. Earlonne and I have talked about this a lot. We find it way harder to see older women in prison. I don’t think about it when I’m at a men’s prison and there’s plenty of old men there. Why do you think it’s so much harder for us to see older women in prison? Like you said, it’s draining. It is really heavy. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Lanie: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Well, that’s a good question. And it’s interesting because to me, it would be sad to see older men too. It’s sad with women because the saddest thing for me is family. I’ll start crying if I talk about it, so I’d rather not. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Yeah, but why do you think it affects us so much? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Lanie: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Well, because we’re maternal. Mothers are not meant to make mistakes and commit crimes and come to prison. We’re just not. And I hate the fact that I did this to my family. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I feel like older women are not supposed to be in prison, and I’m trying to figure out why I don’t have that feeling about older men. You know what I mean? It’s very hard for me to separate my heart feeling. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Lanie: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Were you very close to your mother? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I’m very close to my mother. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Lanie: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I think, like I said before, we’re all a product of our environment. Just like me, I had a great relationship, as I said, not only with my grandparents, but with my mother. So, when I would see these elderly ladies in prison when I first came, I’d make their beds, I’d do their laundry, anything I could to help them. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Your supposition is that the three of us have very close relationships with older women in our lives, or did. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Lanie: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Maybe if not even with your inner family, with someone older that influenced your life. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">But now, I’m smiling because what does that say about what we think about men? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Lanie: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Well, did you have a great relationship with your father? [laughs] \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I have very different feelings about men than I have about women. And now, I’m wondering–\u003c/span>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> [crosstalk] \u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Lanie: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">And I do too. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Thank you for that revelation. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">[chuckles] \u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Lanie: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">And I’m ready for the hereafter. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">You are? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Lanie: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Yes. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">How so? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Lanie: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Well, I believe I’m going to heaven. I believe in heaven. I don’t have a real close personal relationship with my grandchildren because my son was raised coming to prison to see mom. He was only six at the time. And he has decided he doesn’t want his children to know that I’m in prison. And I have to respect that. My son and I talk a couple of times a week, and I get tons and tons of pictures and videos and everything of the kids, but we tiptoe around it, and it’s heartbreaking. My daughter-in-law is a schoolteacher, and she’s wonderful. But she was trying to get him to go to a funeral one day. He who’s usually very accommodating and kind, said, “I’m not going to any funerals. I live with the death that never ends.” Meaning I can’t take anymore. He’s very emotional. And so, I think once I’m gone I’m gone, and he don’t have to continue living the death that never ends. “My mom’s gone, and she can’t come home.” \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Yeah. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Lanie: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">So, it’s heavy. It’s heavy aging in prison and not just dealing with it myself but trying to help others to deal with it. My family, especially my child. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Yeah. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Lanie: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">The heartache never ends. You accept it, but it doesn’t mean that it doesn’t hurt.\u003cbr>\n\u003c/span>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">\u003cbr>\n\u003c/span>\u003cb>Nigel Poor: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Yeah.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp> \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw, Rightnowish Host: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">That was an excerpt from Radiotopia’s podcast, Ear Hustle. To listen to the rest of this episode look up “Ep 94: Once You’re in the Ocean, You’re Going Everywhere” on ear hustlesq.com. To hear other Ear Hustle episodes- they have 13 seasons so plenty to immerse yourself in- find them on your favorite podcast app. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Big ups to their team! Ear Hustle is produced by Nigel Poor, Earlonne Woods, Amy Standen, Bruce Wallace, and Rahsaan “New York” Thomas. Shabnam Sigman is the managing producer. The producing team inside San Quentin includes Steve Brooks, Derrell Sadiq Davis, Tony de Trinidad, Tam Nguyen and Tony Tafoya. Earlonne Woods sound designs and engineers the show with help from Fernando Arruda and Derrell Sadiq Davis. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">This episode was made possible by The Just Trust, working to amplify the voices, vision and power of communities that are transforming the justice system. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Thanks y’all. Love on your people. Peace.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter size-full wp-image-12127869\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"78\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-400x39.jpg 400w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-768x75.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>\u003cem>Rightnowish is an arts and culture podcast produced at KQED. Listen to it wherever you get your podcasts or click the play button at the top of this page and subscribe to the show on \u003ca href=\"https://www.npr.org/podcasts/721590300/rightnowish\">NPR One\u003c/a>, \u003ca href=\"https://open.spotify.com/show/7kEJuafTzTVan7B78ttz1I\">Spotify\u003c/a>, \u003ca href=\"https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/rightnowish/id1482187648\">Apple Podcasts\u003c/a>, \u003ca href=\"https://tunein.com/podcasts/Arts--Culture-Podcasts/Rightnowish-p1258245/\">TuneIn\u003c/a>, \u003ca href=\"https://www.stitcher.com/podcast/kqed/rightnowish\">Stitcher\u003c/a> or wherever you get your podcasts. \u003c/em>\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"","name":"ad","attributes":{"named":{"label":"fullwidth"},"numeric":["fullwidth"]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>=\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"","name":"ad","attributes":{"named":{"label":"floatright"},"numeric":["floatright"]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}}],"link":"/arts/13957481/ear-hustle-introduces-us-to-the-seniors-of-california-institution-for-women","authors":["11491","11528"],"programs":["arts_8720"],"categories":["arts_1"],"tags":["arts_1893","arts_22085","arts_1526"],"featImg":"arts_13957488","label":"arts_8720"},"arts_13956839":{"type":"posts","id":"arts_13956839","meta":{"index":"posts_1716263798","site":"arts","id":"13956839","score":null,"sort":[1714644031000]},"parent":0,"labelTerm":{"site":"arts","term":8720},"blocks":[],"publishDate":1714644031,"format":"audio","title":"D Sharp: The DJ with Four NBA Championship Rings","headTitle":"D Sharp: The DJ with Four NBA Championship Rings | KQED","content":"\u003cp>\u003ca href=\"#episode-transcript\">\u003ci>View the full episode transcript.\u003c/i>\u003c/a>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The Golden State Warriors had a rough 2023-2024 campaign, but at least the music was slappin’.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>During timeouts, breaks between quarters and sometimes even when the ball was in play, the Chase Center’s speakers would vibrate with the sounds of legendary Bay Area hip-hop artists. The person often on the turntables making it happen: \u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/djdsharp/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">DJ D Sharp\u003c/a>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13956841\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13956841\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/DJDSharp-by-Squint-2-800x533.jpg\" alt=\"Man with headphones on looks into the camera with an upbeat expression. \" width=\"800\" height=\"533\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/DJDSharp-by-Squint-2-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/DJDSharp-by-Squint-2-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/DJDSharp-by-Squint-2-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/DJDSharp-by-Squint-2-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/DJDSharp-by-Squint-2-1536x1024.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/DJDSharp-by-Squint-2-2048x1365.jpg 2048w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/DJDSharp-by-Squint-2-1920x1280.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">DJ D Sharp on the ones and twos at Chase Center. \u003ccite>(Squint)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>He’s been the Warriors in-house DJ for a decade, providing the soundtrack for Steph, Klay, Draymond and company during their legendary run of four NBA championships. DJ D Sharp, clearly an essential part of the team, even has four NBA championship rings of his own.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Outside of the arena, DJ D Sharp is a radio show host for 106.1 KMEL and producer for Bay Area hip-hop artists. Over the past year, he’s produced projects for North Oakland’s \u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/stspittin/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">ST Spittin\u003c/a>, the East Bay collective \u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/macarthurmaze/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">MacArthur Maze\u003c/a> and a soon-to-be released project with East Oakland’s \u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/firstnameian/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">Ian Kelly\u003c/a>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Raised in East Oakland himself, DJ D Sharp has been a producer and DJ since his teens. Given all his accomplishments, from working with the likes of Lauryn Hill and Kelly Rowland to making an appearance at the 2024 NBA All-Star Game, DJ D Sharp has a lot to be proud of. This week, we talk about providing a soundtrack for the Warriors’ dynasty while building a lasting legacy for his family and community.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c!-- iframe plugin v.4.3 wordpress.org/plugins/iframe/ -->\u003cbr>\n\u003ciframe loading=\"lazy\" frameborder=\"0\" height=\"200\" scrolling=\"no\" src=\"https://playlist.megaphone.fm/?e=KQINC7887334509\" width=\"100%\" class=\"iframe-class\">\u003c/iframe>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp> \u003c/p>\n\u003ch2 id=\"episode-transcript\">Episode Transcript\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>This is a computer-generated transcript. While our team has reviewed it, there may be errors.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[Music playing]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw, Host:\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> What’s up Rightnowish listeners, it’s your guy, Pendarvis Harshaw. Tapping in with my Warriors fans out there. \u003c/span>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">[Sigh]\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> What a season, talk about some highs and some lows, maybe the end of a dynasty. Who knows? Look, I’m not trying to wallow in the sad news– cause there’s always next year, right? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> \u003c/span>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">At least there’s one thing we know for sure: in 2025 the NBA-All Stars game is coming to the Bay, so you know it’s gonna be lit with events in the Town and in Frisco and one person who is sure to be in the mix: DJ D Sharp.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">He’s the Warriors in-house DJ, which means during a game, when there’s a break in the action or even sometimes while the ball is in play, you can hear him on the 1s and 2s. And every once in a while you can even look up and see him stunting on the jumbotron. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">On top of being the Warriors DJ, he’s a hip-hop producer. Recently he’s done projects with North Oakland’s ST Spittin and the group, MacArthur Maze. He’s been producing for just about as long as he’s been a DJ– dating back to his teens. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> \u003c/span>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">As a guy who was raised in East Oakland, DJ D Sharp says it’s been a dream being a part of the Warriors franchise.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>DJ D Sharp, guest:\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> I don’t take none of it for granted. Like, it’s an amazing experience to deejay in front of 20,000 people every night and to get the love from the people too. It’s just amazing, bro. Like, I’m blessed. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw:\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> So for this episode, we chop it up about his journey to the Warriors, providing the soundtrack for a basketball dynasty and what legacy he’s building for the Town and his family, coming up after this. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Bringing you into the discussion today, excited to talk to you because you are at the helm of something very important: you provide the soundtrack to one of my favorite sports teams. And you’ve produced some really tight projects over the last couple of years out of, out of the East Bay. Let’s start at the start. What came first: deejaying or producing?\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>DJ D Sharp: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Deejaying most definitely came first. I was collecting records and like, the \u003c/span>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Yo! MTV Rap\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> era, like, it was just like, I loved it and I couldn’t, you know, step away from the TV. I was always tuned in, dialed in. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">What was the first piece of equipment you had?\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> \u003c/span>\u003cb>DJ D Sharp:\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> The first piece of equipment I had was my mom’s turn table. It was some off-brand name. I was on that thing learning. And then I was like, oh, I need a mixer and then I got a mixer from the homie down the street.\u003c/span> \u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">But my pops is uh, he’s a musician and he played the keyboards and he had bands and all that kind of stuff. So he’d buy the latest drum machine, and then I’d just be playing on it, and then next thing you know, he’d forget about it and he giving it to me.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">[Music playing]\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>DJ D Sharp: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I caught on a real fast to the point where I think that’s why people started giving me equipment, giving me records and giving me stuff because they were seeing it. They was like, yo, he got it. Like, take this and go play. Go, go, go, go, experiment with this and then come back to me. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">What age are we talking about here?\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>DJ D Sharp: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> 12. 13. 14.\u003c/span>\u003cb> I \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">had homies in Richmond, who I would go spend a weekend, every other weekend with them. My boy Aaron ,we were the same age, so we would we would hang out and his brothers was deejays. So I go to they house and just get equipment. Like, I come home with records.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> \u003c/span>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">It was a community effort.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> \u003c/span>\u003cb>DJ D Sharp: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">It was a community effort for sure.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">So a lot of these factors pouring into you, a lot of Bay area energy. You said either in the town or in Richmond. You did mention that \u003c/span>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Yo! MTV Raps\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> having that influence on you as well.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>DJ D Sharp:\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Yeah. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw:\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> I’m wondering like, does this whole trope about, you know, all Bay area music all sounds the same and how like there’s an east coast sound and a west coast sound, did that ever play a part in you developing your style?\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">\u003cbr>\n\u003c/span>\u003cb>DJ D Sharp: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">When people heard me out deejaying and it’d be like the first question they asked me all the time was, was I from the east coast, “because you don’t you don’t deejay like these other cats. Like you, where are you from?” I’m like ‘I’m from East Oakland.’ Like, you know what I’m saying? They’d be like, “What?” I’d be like, ‘Yeah.’\u003c/span>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">\u003cbr>\n\u003c/span>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">You know, being from the Town, you know, it’s all about the knock. It’s all about the slump. It’s all about, you know,415’s. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">[Music playing]\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003cb> \u003c/b>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>DJ D Sharp: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">So I came from that but also came from the choppin’ samples and that side of hip hop is the drum breaks and stuff like that. So like I’m taking the drum breaking and adding 808 to it, you get what I’m saying, like, you know,Too $hort, like, “In The Trunk” Like you listen to “In The Trunk” that’s what that is. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">You can hear it in my sound in a production, like, for me, I grew up loving Gang Starr as much as I love Ant Banks and Spice 1. I love Too $hort just as much as I loved Big Daddy Kane.\u003c/span> \u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I was just immersed in hip hop.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Those early days of getting into the game and you start working with some, some pretty heavyweight names in the industry.\u003c/span> \u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">For a time period, you were tour deejay for Lauryn Hill?\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> \u003c/span>\u003cb>DJ D Sharp: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Yes! ‘Cause Kev Choice had tapped me to be the tour DJ for Lauryn because she tapped him to be the music director. Me and Kev go way back to Brookfield Elementary. You know, anytime he thinks of a DJ, anytime I think of, some, a multi instrumentalist, I think, of Kev. So we collab and we always look out for each other.\u003c/span> \u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">So, yeah, Lauryn Hill was craz and it was a dope run, and I learned a lot from her. We all did.\u003c/span> \u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">And I became a tour deejay all the way up until 2010, so you talking ten years.\u003c/span> \u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">We toured heavy with will.i.am. And I saw will.i.am at a Warriors game. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">[Music playing]\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">And he was like, “You the Warriors Dj?” He was like “Oh okay, that’s whats up,” you know what I mean. So it all be a full circle moment.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">[Clip of promotional video] \u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">“One more time, give it up for DJ D Sharp, come on!”\u003c/span>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> [basketball arena crowd cheers] \u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">You’ve mentioned The Warriors, you’ve been there over a dozen years now. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>DJ D Sharp: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Yes. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Bring me back to the start. How do you land that gig?\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> \u003c/span>\u003cb>DJ D Sharp: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">God bless the dead DJ Solomon. He was the first deejay for the Warriors and I argue that he might have been the first deejay in the NBA. \u003c/span>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>DJ D Sharp: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">He taught me a lot. He was a peer but he was also a mentor and I met him at a Blackalicious show. He he approached me and he said, “Bro, like your scratching, bro, it’s so crazy. Like, I DJ for the Warriors and you know, we’d love to have you come and just do a 2 x 4 set with me.” I was like ‘Yeah it’s all good,’ we exchanged numbers.” We killed it. We had a good time. \u003c/span>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">And then he was like, “Let’s do it again.”\u003c/span>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">\u003cbr>\n\u003c/span>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">\u003cbr>\n\u003c/span>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> And then he would do it with other deejays as well in the community. But then, he got busy, like, he was a part of the whole Serato situation. For those who don’t know, Serrato was the software used by DJs, just like, the number one software. But like, if you look back at the promo, bro is on the promo with like Z trip, DJ Jazzy Jeff, like Qbert, like with all the these heavy hitter deejays. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">He got busy. So he couldn’t do a lot of games. So he would, like, send out these emails to a bunch of DJs and, and, you know, for some reason, it felt like I was always the one who answered the emails.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">This is when the Warriors sucked too, right. This is like pre, “we believe.” And then when “we believe” came like I was still filling in for him. But he did like all that playoff run and all that kind of stuff. And then up until 2012, he… man, yeah, he passed away, man, and then the Warriors offered me the gig.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Before the Dynasty and Steph, Klay and Dre like in the early days like what does it mean to be a part of the entertainment of a team that’s not performing too well?\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>DJ D Sharp: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">That was what it was all about. It was about the entertainment, right? because the team wasn’t good. So if you, if you, remember we had Thunder.\u003c/span>\u003cb> \u003c/b>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">[Music playing, crowd cheering]\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Thunder was the mascot for the Warriors. Thunder was the highlight, you know, dunking and doing his thing and going all around the arena ya know what I mean? Thunder was the man.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Shout out Brett Yamaguchi, who was the head of all the entertainment. He made it where the entertainment was top notch. Like the t-shirt toss and like, the Warriors dance team and like all of that stuff, like, you know those timeouts, those breaks, those contests, like, all of that stuff was more exciting than the game itself \u003c/span>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">[laughs]\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> You get what I’m saying?\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">[Warriors chant]\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I do remember the arena always being filled. Like, people will always show up for the warriors, like, regardless of the losing seasons and all of that kinda stuff. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I’m rolling. I’m sorry. Yeah. You’re like “it was always packed,” like, yeah, because people got free tickets from the library, from Lucky’s, Round Table. But yeah, those were good times. You know, there was no winning in sight. I couldn’t foresee a Steph, Klay, Dray, like, dynasty like we have now.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>DJ D Sharp: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">No one could bro. And that’s the, that’s the magic and the beauty of it all, right?\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> \u003c/span>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw:\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> Yeah. Do you have a certain song that you go to for a certain situation? like say, I don’t know, it’s 24 seconds left on the clock and the Warriors got the ball, they down, you know, a point and you want the crowd to get amped during that half, during that timeout right before the ball comes into play. Do you have a song that will play for folks?\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>DJ D Sharp: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">The only song that really that I go like, is a go to song when it’s cracking and is going stupid in there,I did like a house remix for the E-40 remix. So I do that a lot because it’s a lot of energy. “Everybody say Warriors, Warriors” \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> \u003c/span>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">[Music playing]\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>DJ D Sharp: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> I play that in moments like that. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">You deejay for the Warriors during this, like historical run, right, for this past decade. And when they play these clips as these players Steph, Klay, Dre go into the Hall of Fame, they’ll have those songs in the background as the clips play. Like, does that ever like, occur to you that you’re kind of laying the soundtrack for history?\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> \u003c/span>\u003cb>DJ D Sharp: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Yeah, I think about it, you know ? Because it’s like, you know, I mean, I’ve had Steph, I’ve had Coach Kerr, I’ve had Loon, even GP too like, like I’ve had these brothers come up to me telling me, I make an impact. So it’s dope to hear that. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">With that said, you’re a valued member of the team. You’ve got championship rings, multiple.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>DJ D Sharp: yeah, \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">No. It’s crazy. There’s one for each member of my family. Me, my wife and my two sons. We got four.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">For you personally this year,while, the team has had its ups and downs, and a lot of down, you personally have had some some pretty big highlights, All Sar, All Star 2024?\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> \u003c/span>\u003cb>DJ D Sharp: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Yes, I was tapped to go and do All Star 2024. I did the celebrity game and that was fun. You know, that experience is amazing and is coming to the Bay area.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">You think that this means a lot to the entire Bay area, I’m assuming?\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> \u003c/span>\u003cb>DJ D Sharp: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Oh for sure, for sure, man.I think the Bay is getting a bad rap right now from the homelessness to everything that’s going on with the crime and bippin’ and all that kind of stuff.\u003c/span> \u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">But when you talk to people and you talk to family in other cities and other locations, like, this is going on across the country, across the world, like bippin’ is happening, like it’s worse in Atlanta as far as I know. But it don’t get amplified like it does here in the Bay for some reason.\u003c/span> \u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Oakland gets a bad rap, especially like, we been lost all of our teams. It’s like they trying to like, cleanse us of Oakland. It’s like, what are we doing? Like, no, Oakland is beautiful and it needs to be put on a pedestal.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">[Music playing]\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003cb> \u003c/b>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>DJ D Sharp:\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">It’s heartbreaking to see. But at the same time, I think Oakland gonna eventually end up being on top like we always are.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw:\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> Yeah, as you talk about it, it’s kind of wild to me that you see it on both sides like the professional, the sports team, you were there for the Warriors move away from the town and through the music. The music is always an underdog to the bigger cities. And so playing that role, you’re carrying a lot of weight there!\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> \u003c/span>\u003cb>DJ D Sharp: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Again, I see us, like, rising from the ashes like we here, Like, this is what we do. So, yeah, we’ll be aight.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">[Music playing]\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">So beyond basketball, you’re also part owner of the Oakland Roots soccer team. Like, how did how did that come to be?\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>DJ D Sharp: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">That sound crazy, don’t it, right? Shout out my sister, she hit me up. She was like, you know, “There’s rare opportunity to be a part of this, the growth of what’s going on with the Oakland Roots, Oakland Soul.” And she sent me the information and it was kind of like, a no brainer. And it’s going back to like, my kids, like, I’m looking at that. Like, I’m trying to set up something for them.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">And on top of that, you look at Oakland Soul and you look at Oakland Roots, right. They are here. They are Oakland. You get what I’m saying? And I don’t, I don’t never see them, you know, packing up and going out. I only see them growing. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">My sons are humongous soccer fans, so they know all the players. They know everything about it. So, it was just a wonderful opportunity that I had to kind of just, I had to do it. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">So you, where you are in your career again, both in the the DJ realm, the production realm, you also have these two little ones that you mentioned before, your children, and also your wife, I’m like, your family, what does it mean to them to see you in the position that you’re in?\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> \u003c/span>\u003cb>DJ D Sharp: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I tell you this about my boys, man, and one of the things I love the most, because they love music and they love basketball. I’m able to provide them resources that I didn’t have coming up, which is a blessing. I mean, these boys are playing AAU basketball, you know, karate, soccer league, they doing all the sports. \u003c/span>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">They have a story within themselves, like, they were able to be in a parade twice. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">[Music playing]\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">\u003cstrong>DJ D Sharp:\u003c/strong> So my whole family, we had our own car in a parade, and they waving to people and doing all this stuff, so it’s like, especially my 11 year old, to see his confidence. And, you know, I love it. Like, he’s a confident kid. He’s like, real headstrong. He knows what he wants and he he goes for it. That’s all I can ask, man.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Sounds like you’re passing on more than a championship ring.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>DJ D Sharp: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">That’s the whole thing about fatherhood, you just want, you want to give them what you didn’t have, but you also want to teach them things, valuable lessons you’ve learned and pass them on, so yeah.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Congrats to that!\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>DJ D Sharp: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Thank you:\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw, host: \u003c/b>One more time for DJ D Sharp. Thank you for your time, your story and your work!\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>All the info on his latest music projects can be found on his Instagram at DJD Sharp, all one word. Or check out his music on any streaming platform, under DJ D Sharp.\u003cb>\u003c/b>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>This episode was hosted by me, Pendarvis Harshaw. Marisol Medina-Cadena produced this episode. Chris Egusa and Chris Hambrick both held it down for edits. We call that the Chris cross connection. Christopher Beale engineered this joint. The music you heard was courtesy of D Sharp. The Rightnowish team is also supported by Jen Chien, Ugur Dursun, Holly Kernan, Cesar Saldaña, and Katie Sprenger.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>If you like what you hear and have the means to do so, we ask that you consider supporting dope local programming like this show. Visit KQED dot org slash donate. We appreciate ya.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Rightnowish is a KQED production. Until next time, peace\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>DJ D Sharp, guest:\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> Thunder was the mascot for the Warriors. You probably know this story, Pen, the story about how they went to China and he never came back. Like, he got married and settled and had a family over there.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw:\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> I did not hear this story at all.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>DJ D Sharp: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I don’t know if it was PR or it was a fan. It’s crazy, look it up.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pen Harshaw, host\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">: We did look it up. And buried on the Warriors official Youtube page, we found this: a 10 year old video explaining why the Dubs’ beloved mascot Thunder is no longer with the team.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Clip from “Thunder: Found in China”:\u003c/b> \u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I came to China with the Warriors for the NBA China Games in 2008, and I started dancing with Chinese fans like I had never danced before. I also met the love of my life here in China and never looked back and I’m not coming back.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Life, love, dunking and dancing, China has it all for me. At first there were struggles fitting in, but I found an inner peace. And I want you to know. While I miss you dearly, Warriors fans, you taught me what it was to be thunder. But now my home is China. Sincerely, Léijong \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter size-full wp-image-12127869\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"78\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-400x39.jpg 400w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-768x75.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>\u003cem>Rightnowish is an arts and culture podcast produced at KQED. Listen to it wherever you get your podcasts or click the play button at the top of this page and subscribe to the show on \u003ca href=\"https://www.npr.org/podcasts/721590300/rightnowish\">NPR One\u003c/a>, \u003ca href=\"https://open.spotify.com/show/7kEJuafTzTVan7B78ttz1I\">Spotify\u003c/a>, \u003ca href=\"https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/rightnowish/id1482187648\">Apple Podcasts\u003c/a>, \u003ca href=\"https://tunein.com/podcasts/Arts--Culture-Podcasts/Rightnowish-p1258245/\">TuneIn\u003c/a>, \u003ca href=\"https://www.stitcher.com/podcast/kqed/rightnowish\">Stitcher\u003c/a> or wherever you get your podcasts. \u003c/em>\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad floatright]\u003c/p>\n","stats":{"hasVideo":false,"hasChartOrMap":false,"hasAudio":true,"hasPolis":false,"wordCount":3938,"hasGoogleForm":false,"hasGallery":false,"hasHearkenModule":false,"iframeSrcs":[],"paragraphCount":85},"modified":1714676977,"excerpt":"DJ D Sharp talks about spinning for Golden State Warriors games while building a legacy for his family.","headData":{"twImgId":"","twTitle":"","ogTitle":"","ogImgId":"","twDescription":"","description":"The Golden State Warriors had a rough 2023-2024 campaign, but at least the music was slappin'. During timeouts, breaks between quarters and sometimes even when the ball was in play, the Chase Center's speakers would vibrate with the sounds of legendary Bay Area hip-hop artists. The person often on the turntables making it happen: DJ D Sharp.","socialDescription":"The Golden State Warriors had a rough 2023-2024 campaign, but at least the music was slappin'. During timeouts, breaks between quarters and sometimes even when the ball was in play, the Chase Center's speakers would vibrate with the sounds of legendary Bay Area hip-hop artists. The person often on the turntables making it happen: DJ D Sharp.","title":"D Sharp: The DJ with Four NBA Championship Rings | KQED","ogDescription":"","schema":{"@context":"http://schema.org","@type":"Article","headline":"D Sharp: The DJ with Four NBA Championship Rings","datePublished":"2024-05-02T03:00:31-07:00","dateModified":"2024-05-02T12:09:37-07:00","image":"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/02/KQED-OG-Image@1x.png"}},"guestAuthors":[],"slug":"dj-d-sharp","status":"publish","templateType":"standard","audioUrl":"https://www.podtrac.com/pts/redirect.mp3/chrt.fm/track/G6C7C3/traffic.megaphone.fm/KQINC7887334509.mp3?updated=1714612024","excludeFromSiteSearch":"Include","featuredImageType":"standard","sticky":false,"articleAge":"0","path":"/arts/13956839/dj-d-sharp","audioTrackLength":null,"parsedContent":[{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp>\u003ca href=\"#episode-transcript\">\u003ci>View the full episode transcript.\u003c/i>\u003c/a>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The Golden State Warriors had a rough 2023-2024 campaign, but at least the music was slappin’.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>During timeouts, breaks between quarters and sometimes even when the ball was in play, the Chase Center’s speakers would vibrate with the sounds of legendary Bay Area hip-hop artists. The person often on the turntables making it happen: \u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/djdsharp/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">DJ D Sharp\u003c/a>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13956841\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13956841\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/DJDSharp-by-Squint-2-800x533.jpg\" alt=\"Man with headphones on looks into the camera with an upbeat expression. \" width=\"800\" height=\"533\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/DJDSharp-by-Squint-2-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/DJDSharp-by-Squint-2-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/DJDSharp-by-Squint-2-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/DJDSharp-by-Squint-2-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/DJDSharp-by-Squint-2-1536x1024.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/DJDSharp-by-Squint-2-2048x1365.jpg 2048w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/DJDSharp-by-Squint-2-1920x1280.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">DJ D Sharp on the ones and twos at Chase Center. \u003ccite>(Squint)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>He’s been the Warriors in-house DJ for a decade, providing the soundtrack for Steph, Klay, Draymond and company during their legendary run of four NBA championships. DJ D Sharp, clearly an essential part of the team, even has four NBA championship rings of his own.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Outside of the arena, DJ D Sharp is a radio show host for 106.1 KMEL and producer for Bay Area hip-hop artists. Over the past year, he’s produced projects for North Oakland’s \u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/stspittin/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">ST Spittin\u003c/a>, the East Bay collective \u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/macarthurmaze/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">MacArthur Maze\u003c/a> and a soon-to-be released project with East Oakland’s \u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/firstnameian/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">Ian Kelly\u003c/a>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Raised in East Oakland himself, DJ D Sharp has been a producer and DJ since his teens. Given all his accomplishments, from working with the likes of Lauryn Hill and Kelly Rowland to making an appearance at the 2024 NBA All-Star Game, DJ D Sharp has a lot to be proud of. This week, we talk about providing a soundtrack for the Warriors’ dynasty while building a lasting legacy for his family and community.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c!-- iframe plugin v.4.3 wordpress.org/plugins/iframe/ -->\u003cbr>\n\u003ciframe loading=\"lazy\" frameborder=\"0\" height=\"200\" scrolling=\"no\" src=\"https://playlist.megaphone.fm/?e=KQINC7887334509\" width=\"100%\" class=\"iframe-class\">\u003c/iframe>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp> \u003c/p>\n\u003ch2 id=\"episode-transcript\">Episode Transcript\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>This is a computer-generated transcript. While our team has reviewed it, there may be errors.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[Music playing]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw, Host:\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> What’s up Rightnowish listeners, it’s your guy, Pendarvis Harshaw. Tapping in with my Warriors fans out there. \u003c/span>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">[Sigh]\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> What a season, talk about some highs and some lows, maybe the end of a dynasty. Who knows? Look, I’m not trying to wallow in the sad news– cause there’s always next year, right? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> \u003c/span>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">At least there’s one thing we know for sure: in 2025 the NBA-All Stars game is coming to the Bay, so you know it’s gonna be lit with events in the Town and in Frisco and one person who is sure to be in the mix: DJ D Sharp.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">He’s the Warriors in-house DJ, which means during a game, when there’s a break in the action or even sometimes while the ball is in play, you can hear him on the 1s and 2s. And every once in a while you can even look up and see him stunting on the jumbotron. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">On top of being the Warriors DJ, he’s a hip-hop producer. Recently he’s done projects with North Oakland’s ST Spittin and the group, MacArthur Maze. He’s been producing for just about as long as he’s been a DJ– dating back to his teens. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> \u003c/span>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">As a guy who was raised in East Oakland, DJ D Sharp says it’s been a dream being a part of the Warriors franchise.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>DJ D Sharp, guest:\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> I don’t take none of it for granted. Like, it’s an amazing experience to deejay in front of 20,000 people every night and to get the love from the people too. It’s just amazing, bro. Like, I’m blessed. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw:\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> So for this episode, we chop it up about his journey to the Warriors, providing the soundtrack for a basketball dynasty and what legacy he’s building for the Town and his family, coming up after this. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Bringing you into the discussion today, excited to talk to you because you are at the helm of something very important: you provide the soundtrack to one of my favorite sports teams. And you’ve produced some really tight projects over the last couple of years out of, out of the East Bay. Let’s start at the start. What came first: deejaying or producing?\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>DJ D Sharp: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Deejaying most definitely came first. I was collecting records and like, the \u003c/span>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Yo! MTV Rap\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> era, like, it was just like, I loved it and I couldn’t, you know, step away from the TV. I was always tuned in, dialed in. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">What was the first piece of equipment you had?\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> \u003c/span>\u003cb>DJ D Sharp:\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> The first piece of equipment I had was my mom’s turn table. It was some off-brand name. I was on that thing learning. And then I was like, oh, I need a mixer and then I got a mixer from the homie down the street.\u003c/span> \u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">But my pops is uh, he’s a musician and he played the keyboards and he had bands and all that kind of stuff. So he’d buy the latest drum machine, and then I’d just be playing on it, and then next thing you know, he’d forget about it and he giving it to me.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">[Music playing]\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>DJ D Sharp: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I caught on a real fast to the point where I think that’s why people started giving me equipment, giving me records and giving me stuff because they were seeing it. They was like, yo, he got it. Like, take this and go play. Go, go, go, go, experiment with this and then come back to me. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">What age are we talking about here?\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>DJ D Sharp: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> 12. 13. 14.\u003c/span>\u003cb> I \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">had homies in Richmond, who I would go spend a weekend, every other weekend with them. My boy Aaron ,we were the same age, so we would we would hang out and his brothers was deejays. So I go to they house and just get equipment. Like, I come home with records.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> \u003c/span>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">It was a community effort.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> \u003c/span>\u003cb>DJ D Sharp: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">It was a community effort for sure.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">So a lot of these factors pouring into you, a lot of Bay area energy. You said either in the town or in Richmond. You did mention that \u003c/span>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Yo! MTV Raps\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> having that influence on you as well.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>DJ D Sharp:\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Yeah. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw:\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> I’m wondering like, does this whole trope about, you know, all Bay area music all sounds the same and how like there’s an east coast sound and a west coast sound, did that ever play a part in you developing your style?\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">\u003cbr>\n\u003c/span>\u003cb>DJ D Sharp: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">When people heard me out deejaying and it’d be like the first question they asked me all the time was, was I from the east coast, “because you don’t you don’t deejay like these other cats. Like you, where are you from?” I’m like ‘I’m from East Oakland.’ Like, you know what I’m saying? They’d be like, “What?” I’d be like, ‘Yeah.’\u003c/span>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">\u003cbr>\n\u003c/span>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">You know, being from the Town, you know, it’s all about the knock. It’s all about the slump. It’s all about, you know,415’s. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">[Music playing]\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003cb> \u003c/b>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>DJ D Sharp: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">So I came from that but also came from the choppin’ samples and that side of hip hop is the drum breaks and stuff like that. So like I’m taking the drum breaking and adding 808 to it, you get what I’m saying, like, you know,Too $hort, like, “In The Trunk” Like you listen to “In The Trunk” that’s what that is. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">You can hear it in my sound in a production, like, for me, I grew up loving Gang Starr as much as I love Ant Banks and Spice 1. I love Too $hort just as much as I loved Big Daddy Kane.\u003c/span> \u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I was just immersed in hip hop.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Those early days of getting into the game and you start working with some, some pretty heavyweight names in the industry.\u003c/span> \u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">For a time period, you were tour deejay for Lauryn Hill?\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> \u003c/span>\u003cb>DJ D Sharp: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Yes! ‘Cause Kev Choice had tapped me to be the tour DJ for Lauryn because she tapped him to be the music director. Me and Kev go way back to Brookfield Elementary. You know, anytime he thinks of a DJ, anytime I think of, some, a multi instrumentalist, I think, of Kev. So we collab and we always look out for each other.\u003c/span> \u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">So, yeah, Lauryn Hill was craz and it was a dope run, and I learned a lot from her. We all did.\u003c/span> \u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">And I became a tour deejay all the way up until 2010, so you talking ten years.\u003c/span> \u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">We toured heavy with will.i.am. And I saw will.i.am at a Warriors game. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">[Music playing]\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">And he was like, “You the Warriors Dj?” He was like “Oh okay, that’s whats up,” you know what I mean. So it all be a full circle moment.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">[Clip of promotional video] \u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">“One more time, give it up for DJ D Sharp, come on!”\u003c/span>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> [basketball arena crowd cheers] \u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">You’ve mentioned The Warriors, you’ve been there over a dozen years now. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>DJ D Sharp: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Yes. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Bring me back to the start. How do you land that gig?\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> \u003c/span>\u003cb>DJ D Sharp: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">God bless the dead DJ Solomon. He was the first deejay for the Warriors and I argue that he might have been the first deejay in the NBA. \u003c/span>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>DJ D Sharp: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">He taught me a lot. He was a peer but he was also a mentor and I met him at a Blackalicious show. He he approached me and he said, “Bro, like your scratching, bro, it’s so crazy. Like, I DJ for the Warriors and you know, we’d love to have you come and just do a 2 x 4 set with me.” I was like ‘Yeah it’s all good,’ we exchanged numbers.” We killed it. We had a good time. \u003c/span>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">And then he was like, “Let’s do it again.”\u003c/span>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">\u003cbr>\n\u003c/span>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">\u003cbr>\n\u003c/span>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> And then he would do it with other deejays as well in the community. But then, he got busy, like, he was a part of the whole Serato situation. For those who don’t know, Serrato was the software used by DJs, just like, the number one software. But like, if you look back at the promo, bro is on the promo with like Z trip, DJ Jazzy Jeff, like Qbert, like with all the these heavy hitter deejays. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">He got busy. So he couldn’t do a lot of games. So he would, like, send out these emails to a bunch of DJs and, and, you know, for some reason, it felt like I was always the one who answered the emails.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">This is when the Warriors sucked too, right. This is like pre, “we believe.” And then when “we believe” came like I was still filling in for him. But he did like all that playoff run and all that kind of stuff. And then up until 2012, he… man, yeah, he passed away, man, and then the Warriors offered me the gig.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Before the Dynasty and Steph, Klay and Dre like in the early days like what does it mean to be a part of the entertainment of a team that’s not performing too well?\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>DJ D Sharp: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">That was what it was all about. It was about the entertainment, right? because the team wasn’t good. So if you, if you, remember we had Thunder.\u003c/span>\u003cb> \u003c/b>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">[Music playing, crowd cheering]\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Thunder was the mascot for the Warriors. Thunder was the highlight, you know, dunking and doing his thing and going all around the arena ya know what I mean? Thunder was the man.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Shout out Brett Yamaguchi, who was the head of all the entertainment. He made it where the entertainment was top notch. Like the t-shirt toss and like, the Warriors dance team and like all of that stuff, like, you know those timeouts, those breaks, those contests, like, all of that stuff was more exciting than the game itself \u003c/span>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">[laughs]\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> You get what I’m saying?\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">[Warriors chant]\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I do remember the arena always being filled. Like, people will always show up for the warriors, like, regardless of the losing seasons and all of that kinda stuff. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I’m rolling. I’m sorry. Yeah. You’re like “it was always packed,” like, yeah, because people got free tickets from the library, from Lucky’s, Round Table. But yeah, those were good times. You know, there was no winning in sight. I couldn’t foresee a Steph, Klay, Dray, like, dynasty like we have now.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>DJ D Sharp: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">No one could bro. And that’s the, that’s the magic and the beauty of it all, right?\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> \u003c/span>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw:\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> Yeah. Do you have a certain song that you go to for a certain situation? like say, I don’t know, it’s 24 seconds left on the clock and the Warriors got the ball, they down, you know, a point and you want the crowd to get amped during that half, during that timeout right before the ball comes into play. Do you have a song that will play for folks?\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>DJ D Sharp: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">The only song that really that I go like, is a go to song when it’s cracking and is going stupid in there,I did like a house remix for the E-40 remix. So I do that a lot because it’s a lot of energy. “Everybody say Warriors, Warriors” \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> \u003c/span>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">[Music playing]\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>DJ D Sharp: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> I play that in moments like that. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">You deejay for the Warriors during this, like historical run, right, for this past decade. And when they play these clips as these players Steph, Klay, Dre go into the Hall of Fame, they’ll have those songs in the background as the clips play. Like, does that ever like, occur to you that you’re kind of laying the soundtrack for history?\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> \u003c/span>\u003cb>DJ D Sharp: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Yeah, I think about it, you know ? Because it’s like, you know, I mean, I’ve had Steph, I’ve had Coach Kerr, I’ve had Loon, even GP too like, like I’ve had these brothers come up to me telling me, I make an impact. So it’s dope to hear that. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">With that said, you’re a valued member of the team. You’ve got championship rings, multiple.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>DJ D Sharp: yeah, \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">No. It’s crazy. There’s one for each member of my family. Me, my wife and my two sons. We got four.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">For you personally this year,while, the team has had its ups and downs, and a lot of down, you personally have had some some pretty big highlights, All Sar, All Star 2024?\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> \u003c/span>\u003cb>DJ D Sharp: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Yes, I was tapped to go and do All Star 2024. I did the celebrity game and that was fun. You know, that experience is amazing and is coming to the Bay area.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">You think that this means a lot to the entire Bay area, I’m assuming?\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> \u003c/span>\u003cb>DJ D Sharp: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Oh for sure, for sure, man.I think the Bay is getting a bad rap right now from the homelessness to everything that’s going on with the crime and bippin’ and all that kind of stuff.\u003c/span> \u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">But when you talk to people and you talk to family in other cities and other locations, like, this is going on across the country, across the world, like bippin’ is happening, like it’s worse in Atlanta as far as I know. But it don’t get amplified like it does here in the Bay for some reason.\u003c/span> \u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Oakland gets a bad rap, especially like, we been lost all of our teams. It’s like they trying to like, cleanse us of Oakland. It’s like, what are we doing? Like, no, Oakland is beautiful and it needs to be put on a pedestal.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">[Music playing]\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003cb> \u003c/b>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>DJ D Sharp:\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">It’s heartbreaking to see. But at the same time, I think Oakland gonna eventually end up being on top like we always are.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw:\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> Yeah, as you talk about it, it’s kind of wild to me that you see it on both sides like the professional, the sports team, you were there for the Warriors move away from the town and through the music. The music is always an underdog to the bigger cities. And so playing that role, you’re carrying a lot of weight there!\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> \u003c/span>\u003cb>DJ D Sharp: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Again, I see us, like, rising from the ashes like we here, Like, this is what we do. So, yeah, we’ll be aight.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">[Music playing]\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">So beyond basketball, you’re also part owner of the Oakland Roots soccer team. Like, how did how did that come to be?\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>DJ D Sharp: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">That sound crazy, don’t it, right? Shout out my sister, she hit me up. She was like, you know, “There’s rare opportunity to be a part of this, the growth of what’s going on with the Oakland Roots, Oakland Soul.” And she sent me the information and it was kind of like, a no brainer. And it’s going back to like, my kids, like, I’m looking at that. Like, I’m trying to set up something for them.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">And on top of that, you look at Oakland Soul and you look at Oakland Roots, right. They are here. They are Oakland. You get what I’m saying? And I don’t, I don’t never see them, you know, packing up and going out. I only see them growing. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">My sons are humongous soccer fans, so they know all the players. They know everything about it. So, it was just a wonderful opportunity that I had to kind of just, I had to do it. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">So you, where you are in your career again, both in the the DJ realm, the production realm, you also have these two little ones that you mentioned before, your children, and also your wife, I’m like, your family, what does it mean to them to see you in the position that you’re in?\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> \u003c/span>\u003cb>DJ D Sharp: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I tell you this about my boys, man, and one of the things I love the most, because they love music and they love basketball. I’m able to provide them resources that I didn’t have coming up, which is a blessing. I mean, these boys are playing AAU basketball, you know, karate, soccer league, they doing all the sports. \u003c/span>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">They have a story within themselves, like, they were able to be in a parade twice. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">[Music playing]\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">\u003cstrong>DJ D Sharp:\u003c/strong> So my whole family, we had our own car in a parade, and they waving to people and doing all this stuff, so it’s like, especially my 11 year old, to see his confidence. And, you know, I love it. Like, he’s a confident kid. He’s like, real headstrong. He knows what he wants and he he goes for it. That’s all I can ask, man.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Sounds like you’re passing on more than a championship ring.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>DJ D Sharp: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">That’s the whole thing about fatherhood, you just want, you want to give them what you didn’t have, but you also want to teach them things, valuable lessons you’ve learned and pass them on, so yeah.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Congrats to that!\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>DJ D Sharp: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Thank you:\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw, host: \u003c/b>One more time for DJ D Sharp. Thank you for your time, your story and your work!\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>All the info on his latest music projects can be found on his Instagram at DJD Sharp, all one word. Or check out his music on any streaming platform, under DJ D Sharp.\u003cb>\u003c/b>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>This episode was hosted by me, Pendarvis Harshaw. Marisol Medina-Cadena produced this episode. Chris Egusa and Chris Hambrick both held it down for edits. We call that the Chris cross connection. Christopher Beale engineered this joint. The music you heard was courtesy of D Sharp. The Rightnowish team is also supported by Jen Chien, Ugur Dursun, Holly Kernan, Cesar Saldaña, and Katie Sprenger.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>If you like what you hear and have the means to do so, we ask that you consider supporting dope local programming like this show. Visit KQED dot org slash donate. We appreciate ya.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Rightnowish is a KQED production. Until next time, peace\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>DJ D Sharp, guest:\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> Thunder was the mascot for the Warriors. You probably know this story, Pen, the story about how they went to China and he never came back. Like, he got married and settled and had a family over there.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw:\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> I did not hear this story at all.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>DJ D Sharp: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I don’t know if it was PR or it was a fan. It’s crazy, look it up.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pen Harshaw, host\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">: We did look it up. And buried on the Warriors official Youtube page, we found this: a 10 year old video explaining why the Dubs’ beloved mascot Thunder is no longer with the team.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Clip from “Thunder: Found in China”:\u003c/b> \u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I came to China with the Warriors for the NBA China Games in 2008, and I started dancing with Chinese fans like I had never danced before. I also met the love of my life here in China and never looked back and I’m not coming back.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Life, love, dunking and dancing, China has it all for me. At first there were struggles fitting in, but I found an inner peace. And I want you to know. While I miss you dearly, Warriors fans, you taught me what it was to be thunder. But now my home is China. Sincerely, Léijong \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter size-full wp-image-12127869\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"78\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-400x39.jpg 400w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-768x75.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>\u003cem>Rightnowish is an arts and culture podcast produced at KQED. Listen to it wherever you get your podcasts or click the play button at the top of this page and subscribe to the show on \u003ca href=\"https://www.npr.org/podcasts/721590300/rightnowish\">NPR One\u003c/a>, \u003ca href=\"https://open.spotify.com/show/7kEJuafTzTVan7B78ttz1I\">Spotify\u003c/a>, \u003ca href=\"https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/rightnowish/id1482187648\">Apple Podcasts\u003c/a>, \u003ca href=\"https://tunein.com/podcasts/Arts--Culture-Podcasts/Rightnowish-p1258245/\">TuneIn\u003c/a>, \u003ca href=\"https://www.stitcher.com/podcast/kqed/rightnowish\">Stitcher\u003c/a> or wherever you get your podcasts. \u003c/em>\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"","name":"ad","attributes":{"named":{"label":"fullwidth"},"numeric":["fullwidth"]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"","name":"ad","attributes":{"named":{"label":"floatright"},"numeric":["floatright"]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}}],"link":"/arts/13956839/dj-d-sharp","authors":["11491","11528"],"programs":["arts_8720"],"categories":["arts_1","arts_69","arts_13238"],"tags":["arts_5786","arts_1331","arts_2852","arts_831","arts_1143","arts_3298"],"featImg":"arts_13956840","label":"arts_8720"},"arts_13958336":{"type":"posts","id":"arts_13958336","meta":{"index":"posts_1716263798","site":"arts","id":"13958336","score":null,"sort":[1716414309000]},"guestAuthors":[],"slug":"the-coterie-den-recording-photography-video-studio-san-jose","title":"At the Coterie Den, San José Artists Work, Play and Dream","publishDate":1716414309,"format":"standard","headTitle":"At the Coterie Den, San José Artists Work, Play and Dream | KQED","labelTerm":{"site":"arts"},"content":"\u003cp>Oakland, San Francisco and Vallejo might get all the glory when it comes to producing the Bay Area’s brightest hip-hop talent, but don’t sleep on San José. Not only is it the hometown of the late \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13907735/remembering-traxamillion-whose-beats-defined-the-bay-area-sound\">hyphy architect Traxamillion\u003c/a> — who produced all-time 2000s classics like Keak Da Sneak’s “Super Hyphy” and The Jacka’s “Glamorous Lifestyle” — but it’s also where \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13939767/peanut-butter-wolf-san-jose-hip-hop-1980s-1990s\">DJ and producer Peanut Butter Wolf\u003c/a> started Stones Throw Records, the iconic independent label that put out classic material by Madlib, MF Doom and J Dilla during that same decade.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Though San José is the Bay’s most populous city, today it’s often overlooked when it comes to culture — more known for its tech workers in Tesla Cybertrucks than its music scene. But it doesn’t take much digging to see that there’s a groundswell of local artists working hard to put the 408 back on the map, and take their music beyond the Bay.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Their home base? \u003ca href=\"https://thecoterieden.com/?gclid=CjwKCAjwr7ayBhAPEiwA6EIGxNSvr7d6O2ylnXK4DCPlGvZlHPFCsD2nQclmHc5j3ls2ijcGDyQu3hoCZVoQAvD_BwE\">The Coterie Den\u003c/a>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>It’s an artist-run, D.I.Y. creative space in a basement below a Japantown nail shop. Follow its winding staircase, and inside you’ll find a recording studio; a video, photo and podcast set; and a community event space decorated with murals and canvases by local artists. The Coterie Den is usually bustling with creatives in action, and regularly hosts fashion markets, open mics and gallery shows that are open to the public.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Twenty-eight-year-old rapper and event producer \u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/ljames408/\">LJame$\u003c/a>, aka Lucas Milan, founded the Coterie Den in late 2021 with two business partners. At the time, he felt discouraged by San José’s lack of venues and resources for up-and-coming artists, especially in hip-hop. He came close to burnout and thought about quitting music altogether.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13956255\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13956255\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-03-KQED-2.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"2000\" height=\"1333\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-03-KQED-2.jpg 2000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-03-KQED-2-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-03-KQED-2-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-03-KQED-2-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-03-KQED-2-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-03-KQED-2-1536x1024.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-03-KQED-2-1920x1280.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2000px) 100vw, 2000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">LJame$, aka Lucas Milan, at the Coterie Den in San José on April 18, 2024. \u003ccite>(Martin do Nascimento/KQED)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>That changed when he and his business partners found the former grocery storage space that would become the Coterie Den. They rolled up their sleeves and put up drywall, soundproofed the studio and hired artists to repaint its salmon-colored walls with graffiti lettering and murals. Pouring his energy into the project reignited LJame$’ passion for creating, and the chance to lift up others became his motivation.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“Artists can come, put that work in, get their practice in, [get] those reps — right? Like you go to the gym to shoot a shot,” says LJame$, who’s now the Coterie Den’s sole owner.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>He runs the studio while also working a tech job by day, and pretty much doesn’t sleep. But he says it’s worth it. He has a team of 10 hungry creatives working alongside him — some of whom are as young as 19.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13958339\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1920px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13958339\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-04_qut.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1920\" height=\"1280\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-04_qut.jpg 1920w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-04_qut-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-04_qut-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-04_qut-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-04_qut-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-04_qut-1536x1024.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1920px) 100vw, 1920px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Engineer Isandro Biaco at the Coterie Den in San José on April 18, 2024. \u003ccite>(Martin do Nascimento/KQED)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>In-house engineer \u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/isandro.flp/\">Isandro\u003c/a> — who gets constant props from everyone who stops by during our interview — taught himself to mix and master music, and saved up money from construction work for his own studio equipment. Becoming the Coterie Den’s full-time engineer has opened up new opportunities: In 2022, his own single “\u003ca href=\"https://youtu.be/doblhgONeJU?si=gQcyHUZt-Ze7x6U2\">Heart2Heart\u003c/a>” took off on TikTok, and it was his Coterie Den comrades who instructed him on how to parlay the attention into his budding solo music career.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“I didn’t know what to do with all this hype,” he says. “I didn’t know that you had to be consistent and drop songs and keep feeding the people to grow a fan base. … With the Den, and having the resources here, and having all these dope-ass creative people excited to show me, ‘Yo, this is how you do it,’ we’re able to make it happen.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Spending an afternoon with the Coterie Den crew, it’s easy to appreciate their collaborative, sibling-like energy. “I tangibly see sometimes how I’ve grown through journal entries. We journal a lot,” reflects LJame$. “I see some of the notes from earlier meetings to now. Like, ‘Man, we want to start an open mic’ to now [having] launched a successful open mic in here.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13958341\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1920px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13958341\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-06_qut.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1920\" height=\"1280\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-06_qut.jpg 1920w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-06_qut-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-06_qut-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-06_qut-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-06_qut-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-06_qut-1536x1024.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1920px) 100vw, 1920px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Event coordinator Ruby Rodriguez at the Coterie Den in San José on April 18, 2024. \u003ccite>(Martin do Nascimento/KQED)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003ch2>A hip-hop incubator\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>When I visit the Coterie Den during their open mic season finale in late April, \u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/saysumentertainment/\">Say Sum Entertainment\u003c/a> — a young, multicultural music collective co-hosting the event — is setting up a merch table as aspiring rappers and singers file in. Tonight, the artists will be scored on song structure, beat selection and stage presence by a judges’ panel consisting of LJame$, Isandro and Say Sum founder \u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/415johnjohn/\">John John\u003c/a>. The open mic winner will get free studio time at the Coterie Den and a booking at Sam Sum’s next showcase.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The Coterie Den’s open mics are where Say Sum Entertainment began to take off, and the collective now has a network of over 100 artists all around the Bay Area who support one another. “Something that we want to keep growing is the community, to keep letting people know that the Bay Area is not all about competition, especially when it comes to music,” says John John.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“I have to give the Coterie Den their flowers, because they helped me grow a lot as an artist — and even as a human being,” says rapper, content creator and Sam Sum Entertainment member \u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/3ddev/\">3DDev\u003c/a>. He remembers a turning point in his music career, when he got constructive criticism at a Coterie Den open mic: “You feel like you’re on \u003cem>American Idol\u003c/em>. The next day I went to the studio and made sure I took the time to polish my skills.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13958344\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1920px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13958344\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-02_qut.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1920\" height=\"1280\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-02_qut.jpg 1920w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-02_qut-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-02_qut-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-02_qut-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-02_qut-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-02_qut-1536x1024.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1920px) 100vw, 1920px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Artists sign in to participate in the open mic at the Coterie Den in San José on April 18, 2024. \u003ccite>(Martin do Nascimento/KQED)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>It’s certainly nerve-wracking to get live feedback in front of your peers, and there’s a nervous, excited energy in the room as showtime approaches. I chat with rapper \u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/401ksey/\">401k$ey\u003c/a>, who with a sheepish grin says it’s his second time ever getting up on stage. LJame$ starts calling artists up.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>A rapper with twin braids and a curly mustache named \u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/estevanamoroso/\">Mr. Amoroso\u003c/a> kicks the night off with a sermon about chasing paper that gets everyone nodding in agreement. A singer named \u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/chloe12354/\">Chlo\u003c/a> breaks into Tinashe-esque choreography while delivering a diss track to “bitches who try to read a book by its cover.” And \u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/westsidemoe_/\">Westside Moe\u003c/a> charms the room with romantic verses that take everyone back to the Ja Rule and Ashanti era of hip-hop love songs.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13956261\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13956261\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-15-KQED-2.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"2000\" height=\"1333\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-15-KQED-2.jpg 2000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-15-KQED-2-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-15-KQED-2-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-15-KQED-2-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-15-KQED-2-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-15-KQED-2-1536x1024.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-15-KQED-2-1920x1280.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2000px) 100vw, 2000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Chlo performs at the open mic night at the Coterie Den in San José on April 18, 2024. \u003ccite>(Martin do Nascimento/KQED)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>The judges heap generous praise but also don’t pull back on critiques. A common refrain is that people need to lower their backing vocals and let the audience hear them. When some of the shyer artists forget to introduce themselves or let on that they’re nervous, the judges emphasize confidence and personal branding.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>When 401k$sey goes on, the sheepish demeanor falls away and he’s shoulder-shimmying across the stage while hyping the crowd with a call-and-response hook about rolling up to the club. Everyone loses it when he suddenly switches to rapping full force in Tagalog.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“Pare!” Isandro exclaims in Tagalog from the judges’ table. “Yeah, bruh, for the second performance, I’m blown away. It looks like you been doing this shit.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>At the end of the night, Mr. Amoroso takes the crown, and everyone ends the night with smiles, hugs and fuel for their next moves.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13958343\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1920px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13958343\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-14_qut.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1920\" height=\"1280\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-14_qut.jpg 1920w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-14_qut-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-14_qut-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-14_qut-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-14_qut-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-14_qut-1536x1024.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1920px) 100vw, 1920px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">From left to right: John John, LJame$ and Isandro. LJame$ reviews the performance of a contestant at the open mic night at the Coterie Den in San José on April 18, 2024. \u003ccite>(Martin do Nascimento/KQED)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003ch2>A melting pot in Japantown\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>The Coterie Den is one of the newer businesses in \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13904788/san-jose-japantown-changes-minato-gombei-shuei-do-santo-market\">Japantown\u003c/a>, home to some eateries and shops that have been around since the 1940s and ’50s. As San José’s Japanese American population ages or moves away to suburbs, the neighborhood is becoming more multicultural — something reflected in its artistic expression. [aside postid='arts_13904788']\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>LJame$, who is Chicano, has been organizing car shows and artist markets with his team in Japantown, and he says it took a while for some of the old-school neighborhood merchants to embrace the Coterie Den crew. He has a supporter in fellow business owner My Nguyen, who co-founded nearby streetwear boutique \u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/headliners/?hl=en\">Headliners\u003c/a> in 2011. With the addition of \u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/coldwater.sj/\">Coldwater\u003c/a>, known for its \u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/madebyrila/\">airbrushed sportswear\u003c/a> and in-house streetwear brand \u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/juboclothing/\">Jubo\u003c/a>, there’s now a critical mass of establishments rooted in hip-hop culture in the neighborhood.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“Being a young, Brown gentleman in here — and Japantown [has] a board and they have a whole business association and a very tight-knit community,” LJame$ says. “My stuck up for me a lot. I appreciate him for doing that and opening up doors for us.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13958345\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1920px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13958345\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-42_qut.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1920\" height=\"1280\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-42_qut.jpg 1920w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-42_qut-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-42_qut-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-42_qut-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-42_qut-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-42_qut-1536x1024.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1920px) 100vw, 1920px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">401k$ey performs at the open mic night at the Coterie Den in San José on April 18, 2024. \u003ccite>(Martin do Nascimento/KQED)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>The crowd at Coterie Den — Chicano, Filipino, Vietnamese, Black, white — reflects that sense of solidarity. “I want to showcase that to the world because coexisting, being in places where we can all absorb the culture and learn and listen and talk to one another — that’s special,” LJame$ says. “And the world needs more of that. Not just only in the creative scene, but everywhere.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“It’s like San José itself is a culture, but everybody kind of has their own culture,” says the Coterie Den’s event coordinator, \u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/ruuubess/\">Ruby Rodriguez\u003c/a>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13956258\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13956258\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-11-KQED-2.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"2000\" height=\"1333\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-11-KQED-2.jpg 2000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-11-KQED-2-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-11-KQED-2-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-11-KQED-2-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-11-KQED-2-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-11-KQED-2-1536x1024.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-11-KQED-2-1920x1280.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2000px) 100vw, 2000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">The audience watches performances during the open mic night at the Coterie Den in San Jose on April 18, 2024. \u003ccite>(Martin do Nascimento/KQED)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>She has a major hand in the Coterie Den’s gatherings, including an even bigger open mic at last weekend’s Culture Night Market at Discovery Meadows. On May 26, the Coterie Den is hosting a \u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/p/C7O98w8RUYI/?img_index=1\">Japantown vintage and thrift market\u003c/a>; on June 2, they’re sponsoring a \u003ca href=\"https://thecoterieden.com/packages/ols/categories/sunday-funday-tickets\">Sunday Funday\u003c/a> networking event and day party at nightclub Fuze SJ; and on June 3, the Coterie Den will open its doors for more networking and live performances at \u003ca href=\"https://thecoterieden.com/packages/ols/categories/innovative-meet-up-tickets\">Innovative Meetup\u003c/a>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The Coterie Den team is passionate about their neighborhood. But their vision doesn’t stop there. They want to take their music beyond San José, and even beyond the Bay.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad floatright]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“I want to have one of these in LA. I want to have one in New York. I want to take this exact culture that we’re building, and just transcend the region,” LJame$ says. “I think we have something special to show of course for our city, of course for the Bay area. … And I feel like it needs to be spread across the nation.”\u003c/p>\n\n","blocks":[],"excerpt":"The creative studio, founded by rapper LJame$, wants to take San José’s hip-hop scene nationwide. ","status":"publish","parent":0,"modified":1716502776,"stats":{"hasAudio":false,"hasVideo":false,"hasChartOrMap":false,"iframeSrcs":[],"hasGoogleForm":false,"hasGallery":false,"hasHearkenModule":false,"hasPolis":false,"paragraphCount":30,"wordCount":1965},"headData":{"title":"At the Coterie Den, San José Artists Work, Play and Dream | KQED","description":"The creative studio, founded by rapper LJame$, wants to take San José’s hip-hop scene nationwide. ","ogTitle":"","ogDescription":"","ogImgId":"","twTitle":"","twDescription":"","twImgId":"","schema":{"@context":"http://schema.org","@type":"Article","headline":"At the Coterie Den, San José Artists Work, Play and Dream","datePublished":"2024-05-22T14:45:09-07:00","dateModified":"2024-05-23T15:19:36-07:00","image":"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/02/KQED-OG-Image@1x.png"}},"sticky":false,"nprStoryId":"kqed-13958336","templateType":"standard","featuredImageType":"standard","excludeFromSiteSearch":"Include","articleAge":"0","path":"/arts/13958336/the-coterie-den-recording-photography-video-studio-san-jose","audioTrackLength":null,"parsedContent":[{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp>Oakland, San Francisco and Vallejo might get all the glory when it comes to producing the Bay Area’s brightest hip-hop talent, but don’t sleep on San José. Not only is it the hometown of the late \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13907735/remembering-traxamillion-whose-beats-defined-the-bay-area-sound\">hyphy architect Traxamillion\u003c/a> — who produced all-time 2000s classics like Keak Da Sneak’s “Super Hyphy” and The Jacka’s “Glamorous Lifestyle” — but it’s also where \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13939767/peanut-butter-wolf-san-jose-hip-hop-1980s-1990s\">DJ and producer Peanut Butter Wolf\u003c/a> started Stones Throw Records, the iconic independent label that put out classic material by Madlib, MF Doom and J Dilla during that same decade.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Though San José is the Bay’s most populous city, today it’s often overlooked when it comes to culture — more known for its tech workers in Tesla Cybertrucks than its music scene. But it doesn’t take much digging to see that there’s a groundswell of local artists working hard to put the 408 back on the map, and take their music beyond the Bay.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Their home base? \u003ca href=\"https://thecoterieden.com/?gclid=CjwKCAjwr7ayBhAPEiwA6EIGxNSvr7d6O2ylnXK4DCPlGvZlHPFCsD2nQclmHc5j3ls2ijcGDyQu3hoCZVoQAvD_BwE\">The Coterie Den\u003c/a>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>It’s an artist-run, D.I.Y. creative space in a basement below a Japantown nail shop. Follow its winding staircase, and inside you’ll find a recording studio; a video, photo and podcast set; and a community event space decorated with murals and canvases by local artists. The Coterie Den is usually bustling with creatives in action, and regularly hosts fashion markets, open mics and gallery shows that are open to the public.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Twenty-eight-year-old rapper and event producer \u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/ljames408/\">LJame$\u003c/a>, aka Lucas Milan, founded the Coterie Den in late 2021 with two business partners. At the time, he felt discouraged by San José’s lack of venues and resources for up-and-coming artists, especially in hip-hop. He came close to burnout and thought about quitting music altogether.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13956255\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13956255\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-03-KQED-2.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"2000\" height=\"1333\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-03-KQED-2.jpg 2000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-03-KQED-2-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-03-KQED-2-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-03-KQED-2-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-03-KQED-2-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-03-KQED-2-1536x1024.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-03-KQED-2-1920x1280.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2000px) 100vw, 2000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">LJame$, aka Lucas Milan, at the Coterie Den in San José on April 18, 2024. \u003ccite>(Martin do Nascimento/KQED)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>That changed when he and his business partners found the former grocery storage space that would become the Coterie Den. They rolled up their sleeves and put up drywall, soundproofed the studio and hired artists to repaint its salmon-colored walls with graffiti lettering and murals. Pouring his energy into the project reignited LJame$’ passion for creating, and the chance to lift up others became his motivation.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"","name":"ad","attributes":{"named":{"label":"fullwidth"},"numeric":["fullwidth"]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“Artists can come, put that work in, get their practice in, [get] those reps — right? Like you go to the gym to shoot a shot,” says LJame$, who’s now the Coterie Den’s sole owner.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>He runs the studio while also working a tech job by day, and pretty much doesn’t sleep. But he says it’s worth it. He has a team of 10 hungry creatives working alongside him — some of whom are as young as 19.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13958339\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1920px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13958339\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-04_qut.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1920\" height=\"1280\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-04_qut.jpg 1920w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-04_qut-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-04_qut-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-04_qut-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-04_qut-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-04_qut-1536x1024.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1920px) 100vw, 1920px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Engineer Isandro Biaco at the Coterie Den in San José on April 18, 2024. \u003ccite>(Martin do Nascimento/KQED)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>In-house engineer \u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/isandro.flp/\">Isandro\u003c/a> — who gets constant props from everyone who stops by during our interview — taught himself to mix and master music, and saved up money from construction work for his own studio equipment. Becoming the Coterie Den’s full-time engineer has opened up new opportunities: In 2022, his own single “\u003ca href=\"https://youtu.be/doblhgONeJU?si=gQcyHUZt-Ze7x6U2\">Heart2Heart\u003c/a>” took off on TikTok, and it was his Coterie Den comrades who instructed him on how to parlay the attention into his budding solo music career.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“I didn’t know what to do with all this hype,” he says. “I didn’t know that you had to be consistent and drop songs and keep feeding the people to grow a fan base. … With the Den, and having the resources here, and having all these dope-ass creative people excited to show me, ‘Yo, this is how you do it,’ we’re able to make it happen.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Spending an afternoon with the Coterie Den crew, it’s easy to appreciate their collaborative, sibling-like energy. “I tangibly see sometimes how I’ve grown through journal entries. We journal a lot,” reflects LJame$. “I see some of the notes from earlier meetings to now. Like, ‘Man, we want to start an open mic’ to now [having] launched a successful open mic in here.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13958341\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1920px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13958341\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-06_qut.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1920\" height=\"1280\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-06_qut.jpg 1920w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-06_qut-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-06_qut-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-06_qut-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-06_qut-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-06_qut-1536x1024.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1920px) 100vw, 1920px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Event coordinator Ruby Rodriguez at the Coterie Den in San José on April 18, 2024. \u003ccite>(Martin do Nascimento/KQED)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003ch2>A hip-hop incubator\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>When I visit the Coterie Den during their open mic season finale in late April, \u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/saysumentertainment/\">Say Sum Entertainment\u003c/a> — a young, multicultural music collective co-hosting the event — is setting up a merch table as aspiring rappers and singers file in. Tonight, the artists will be scored on song structure, beat selection and stage presence by a judges’ panel consisting of LJame$, Isandro and Say Sum founder \u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/415johnjohn/\">John John\u003c/a>. The open mic winner will get free studio time at the Coterie Den and a booking at Sam Sum’s next showcase.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The Coterie Den’s open mics are where Say Sum Entertainment began to take off, and the collective now has a network of over 100 artists all around the Bay Area who support one another. “Something that we want to keep growing is the community, to keep letting people know that the Bay Area is not all about competition, especially when it comes to music,” says John John.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“I have to give the Coterie Den their flowers, because they helped me grow a lot as an artist — and even as a human being,” says rapper, content creator and Sam Sum Entertainment member \u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/3ddev/\">3DDev\u003c/a>. He remembers a turning point in his music career, when he got constructive criticism at a Coterie Den open mic: “You feel like you’re on \u003cem>American Idol\u003c/em>. The next day I went to the studio and made sure I took the time to polish my skills.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13958344\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1920px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13958344\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-02_qut.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1920\" height=\"1280\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-02_qut.jpg 1920w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-02_qut-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-02_qut-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-02_qut-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-02_qut-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-02_qut-1536x1024.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1920px) 100vw, 1920px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Artists sign in to participate in the open mic at the Coterie Den in San José on April 18, 2024. \u003ccite>(Martin do Nascimento/KQED)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>It’s certainly nerve-wracking to get live feedback in front of your peers, and there’s a nervous, excited energy in the room as showtime approaches. I chat with rapper \u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/401ksey/\">401k$ey\u003c/a>, who with a sheepish grin says it’s his second time ever getting up on stage. LJame$ starts calling artists up.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>A rapper with twin braids and a curly mustache named \u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/estevanamoroso/\">Mr. Amoroso\u003c/a> kicks the night off with a sermon about chasing paper that gets everyone nodding in agreement. A singer named \u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/chloe12354/\">Chlo\u003c/a> breaks into Tinashe-esque choreography while delivering a diss track to “bitches who try to read a book by its cover.” And \u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/westsidemoe_/\">Westside Moe\u003c/a> charms the room with romantic verses that take everyone back to the Ja Rule and Ashanti era of hip-hop love songs.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13956261\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13956261\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-15-KQED-2.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"2000\" height=\"1333\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-15-KQED-2.jpg 2000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-15-KQED-2-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-15-KQED-2-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-15-KQED-2-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-15-KQED-2-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-15-KQED-2-1536x1024.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-15-KQED-2-1920x1280.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2000px) 100vw, 2000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Chlo performs at the open mic night at the Coterie Den in San José on April 18, 2024. \u003ccite>(Martin do Nascimento/KQED)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>The judges heap generous praise but also don’t pull back on critiques. A common refrain is that people need to lower their backing vocals and let the audience hear them. When some of the shyer artists forget to introduce themselves or let on that they’re nervous, the judges emphasize confidence and personal branding.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>When 401k$sey goes on, the sheepish demeanor falls away and he’s shoulder-shimmying across the stage while hyping the crowd with a call-and-response hook about rolling up to the club. Everyone loses it when he suddenly switches to rapping full force in Tagalog.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“Pare!” Isandro exclaims in Tagalog from the judges’ table. “Yeah, bruh, for the second performance, I’m blown away. It looks like you been doing this shit.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>At the end of the night, Mr. Amoroso takes the crown, and everyone ends the night with smiles, hugs and fuel for their next moves.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13958343\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1920px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13958343\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-14_qut.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1920\" height=\"1280\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-14_qut.jpg 1920w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-14_qut-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-14_qut-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-14_qut-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-14_qut-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-14_qut-1536x1024.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1920px) 100vw, 1920px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">From left to right: John John, LJame$ and Isandro. LJame$ reviews the performance of a contestant at the open mic night at the Coterie Den in San José on April 18, 2024. \u003ccite>(Martin do Nascimento/KQED)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003ch2>A melting pot in Japantown\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>The Coterie Den is one of the newer businesses in \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13904788/san-jose-japantown-changes-minato-gombei-shuei-do-santo-market\">Japantown\u003c/a>, home to some eateries and shops that have been around since the 1940s and ’50s. As San José’s Japanese American population ages or moves away to suburbs, the neighborhood is becoming more multicultural — something reflected in its artistic expression. \u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"","name":"aside","attributes":{"named":{"postid":"arts_13904788","label":""},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>LJame$, who is Chicano, has been organizing car shows and artist markets with his team in Japantown, and he says it took a while for some of the old-school neighborhood merchants to embrace the Coterie Den crew. He has a supporter in fellow business owner My Nguyen, who co-founded nearby streetwear boutique \u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/headliners/?hl=en\">Headliners\u003c/a> in 2011. With the addition of \u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/coldwater.sj/\">Coldwater\u003c/a>, known for its \u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/madebyrila/\">airbrushed sportswear\u003c/a> and in-house streetwear brand \u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/juboclothing/\">Jubo\u003c/a>, there’s now a critical mass of establishments rooted in hip-hop culture in the neighborhood.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“Being a young, Brown gentleman in here — and Japantown [has] a board and they have a whole business association and a very tight-knit community,” LJame$ says. “My stuck up for me a lot. I appreciate him for doing that and opening up doors for us.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13958345\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1920px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13958345\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-42_qut.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1920\" height=\"1280\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-42_qut.jpg 1920w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-42_qut-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-42_qut-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-42_qut-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-42_qut-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-42_qut-1536x1024.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1920px) 100vw, 1920px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">401k$ey performs at the open mic night at the Coterie Den in San José on April 18, 2024. \u003ccite>(Martin do Nascimento/KQED)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>The crowd at Coterie Den — Chicano, Filipino, Vietnamese, Black, white — reflects that sense of solidarity. “I want to showcase that to the world because coexisting, being in places where we can all absorb the culture and learn and listen and talk to one another — that’s special,” LJame$ says. “And the world needs more of that. Not just only in the creative scene, but everywhere.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“It’s like San José itself is a culture, but everybody kind of has their own culture,” says the Coterie Den’s event coordinator, \u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/ruuubess/\">Ruby Rodriguez\u003c/a>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13956258\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13956258\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-11-KQED-2.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"2000\" height=\"1333\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-11-KQED-2.jpg 2000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-11-KQED-2-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-11-KQED-2-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-11-KQED-2-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-11-KQED-2-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-11-KQED-2-1536x1024.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/240419-COTERIE-DEN-MD-11-KQED-2-1920x1280.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2000px) 100vw, 2000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">The audience watches performances during the open mic night at the Coterie Den in San Jose on April 18, 2024. \u003ccite>(Martin do Nascimento/KQED)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>She has a major hand in the Coterie Den’s gatherings, including an even bigger open mic at last weekend’s Culture Night Market at Discovery Meadows. On May 26, the Coterie Den is hosting a \u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/p/C7O98w8RUYI/?img_index=1\">Japantown vintage and thrift market\u003c/a>; on June 2, they’re sponsoring a \u003ca href=\"https://thecoterieden.com/packages/ols/categories/sunday-funday-tickets\">Sunday Funday\u003c/a> networking event and day party at nightclub Fuze SJ; and on June 3, the Coterie Den will open its doors for more networking and live performances at \u003ca href=\"https://thecoterieden.com/packages/ols/categories/innovative-meet-up-tickets\">Innovative Meetup\u003c/a>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The Coterie Den team is passionate about their neighborhood. But their vision doesn’t stop there. They want to take their music beyond San José, and even beyond the Bay.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"","name":"ad","attributes":{"named":{"label":"floatright"},"numeric":["floatright"]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“I want to have one of these in LA. I want to have one in New York. I want to take this exact culture that we’re building, and just transcend the region,” LJame$ says. “I think we have something special to show of course for our city, of course for the Bay area. … And I feel like it needs to be spread across the nation.”\u003c/p>\n\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}}],"link":"/arts/13958336/the-coterie-den-recording-photography-video-studio-san-jose","authors":["11387"],"categories":["arts_1","arts_835","arts_69","arts_235"],"tags":["arts_8505","arts_10342","arts_10278","arts_831","arts_1084"],"featImg":"arts_13958340","label":"arts"},"arts_13958007":{"type":"posts","id":"arts_13958007","meta":{"index":"posts_1716263798","site":"arts","id":"13958007","score":null,"sort":[1715897916000]},"parent":0,"labelTerm":{"site":"arts"},"blocks":[],"publishDate":1715897916,"format":"standard","title":"Amid Upheaval, a New CEO Steps in at Yerba Buena Center for the Arts","headTitle":"Amid Upheaval, a New CEO Steps in at Yerba Buena Center for the Arts | KQED","content":"\u003cp>A new CEO has stepped in to lead \u003ca href=\"https://ybca.org/\">Yerba Buena Center for the Arts\u003c/a> (YBCA), the embattled San Francisco arts organization whose \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13953653/ybca-ceo-resigns-after-pro-palestinian-protest-and-boycott\">previous interim CEO abruptly resigned\u003c/a> in March during the fallout of a pro-Palestinian protest.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Jim Rettew, the new interim CEO, has previously held five interim leadership roles at various nonprofits. His background as a crisis management expert will be put to the test at YBCA, which has been embroiled in controversy since a \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13952460/artists-deface-work-ybca-pro-palestine-protest\">Feb. 15 protest\u003c/a> during which eight artists spray painted and draped pro-Palestinian messages onto their own works in the \u003ci>Bay Area Now 9\u003c/i> exhibit.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13958014\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 906px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13958014\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/Jim-Rettew.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"906\" height=\"1155\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/Jim-Rettew.jpg 906w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/Jim-Rettew-800x1020.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/Jim-Rettew-160x204.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/Jim-Rettew-768x979.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 906px) 100vw, 906px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Jim Rettew is YBCA’s new interim CEO. \u003ccite>(Jim Rettew)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>In response to the protest, former interim CEO Sara Fenske Bahat and the board closed the galleries, which remained shuttered for a month. In open letters, \u003ca href=\"https://docs.google.com/document/d/1ZAoljeQycemJrzYNDyVoSN0gc6ogp5B3jUzj77qua2g/edit\">artists\u003c/a> and \u003ca href=\"https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLSdLNnUvnx74rLWZKIJaHUsMt4qOogFrBZ2OIeUjKjM2gblk6Q/viewform\">staff\u003c/a> accused YBCA leaders of censorship. Bahat resigned on March 3, citing “antisemitic backlash” and “the actions of some of our own employees” in her letter to the board. (Staff and leadership denied each other’s allegations.) San Francisco Supervisor Hillary Ronen, meanwhile, voiced support for the artists, and proposed an examination of the city’s support of YBCA at an upcoming Board of Supervisors meeting.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[aside postid='arts_13952460,arts_13953653']YBCA reopened in mid-March, but the turmoil continued. At least nine staff members have resigned in protest, according to employee comments during a public meeting. And YBCA now faces scrutiny from San Francisco’s Director of Cultural Affairs, who has proposed changes that would drastically alter how YBCA operates.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In an email interview, Rettew told KQED that he sees rebuilding public trust as one of YBCA’s biggest challenges, and that he’s spent his first few weeks on the job listening to employees.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“I’m now using those essential conversations to work with our staff to help deliver on the promises and aspirations of our organization,” he wrote. “I think that in many ways, the protest on Feb. 15 was a reflection of people asking the question: what do people expect from a cultural institution in 2024? We are working tirelessly to try to answer that question, and to create a space that is authentic and valuable to the public.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13954248\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13954248\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/03/240313-YBCAARTISTS-JY-014-KQED.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"2000\" height=\"1333\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/03/240313-YBCAARTISTS-JY-014-KQED.jpg 2000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/03/240313-YBCAARTISTS-JY-014-KQED-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/03/240313-YBCAARTISTS-JY-014-KQED-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/03/240313-YBCAARTISTS-JY-014-KQED-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/03/240313-YBCAARTISTS-JY-014-KQED-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/03/240313-YBCAARTISTS-JY-014-KQED-1536x1024.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/03/240313-YBCAARTISTS-JY-014-KQED-1920x1280.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2000px) 100vw, 2000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Bay Area Artists Against Genocide (B.A.A.A.G.) member Paz G displays design options at a screen-printing event artists organized outside of YBCA while the art center was closed in March 2024. \u003ccite>(Juliana Yamada/KQED)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003ch2>An art center on taxpayer-funded property\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>YBCA is under particular scrutiny because the private nonprofit enjoys significant, taxpayer-funded subsidies from the City and County of San Francisco. It occupies a city-owned building, rent free, on public land under a contract that’s subject to renewal through 2094. YBCA has also received tens of millions in taxpayer dollars since its founding in 1993; according to its most recent financial report, for fiscal year 2023, about 6% of its revenue and support came from the City and County of San Francisco. [ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Yerba Buena Gardens Conservancy, another nonprofit, manages the YBCA property, acting as an intermediary between YBCA and the city. In exchange for financial support and subsidies, YBCA is contractually obligated to offer “high-quality artistic programming to San Francisco residents and visitors.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>At the Conservancy’s most recent public board meeting on April 10, San Francisco’s Director of Cultural Affairs, Ralph Remington, sharply criticized YBCA for what he considers its failure to do so.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“With the level of subsidy YBCA receives … they should have been operating and maintaining the cultural facilities in a way that presents themselves as a world-class performing arts presenting, producing, exhibiting organization,” Remington said. “You’d have to go back into the distant past to see when that actually happened.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13958015\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2560px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13958015\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/Ralph-Remington-3_Photo-Credit-Aminda-Villa_0-scaled.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"2560\" height=\"1707\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/Ralph-Remington-3_Photo-Credit-Aminda-Villa_0-scaled.jpg 2560w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/Ralph-Remington-3_Photo-Credit-Aminda-Villa_0-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/Ralph-Remington-3_Photo-Credit-Aminda-Villa_0-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/Ralph-Remington-3_Photo-Credit-Aminda-Villa_0-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/Ralph-Remington-3_Photo-Credit-Aminda-Villa_0-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/Ralph-Remington-3_Photo-Credit-Aminda-Villa_0-1536x1024.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/Ralph-Remington-3_Photo-Credit-Aminda-Villa_0-2048x1365.jpg 2048w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/Ralph-Remington-3_Photo-Credit-Aminda-Villa_0-1920x1280.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2560px) 100vw, 2560px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">San Francisco Director of Cultural Affairs Ralph Remington said YBCA needs to be ‘reined in’ at a recent board meeting. \u003ccite>(Aminda Villa)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Indeed, YBCA significantly reduced its film programming in 2018 after \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13841205/curatorial-crisis-bay-area-art-institutions\">laying off the two-person department\u003c/a>. In 2020, it launched the \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13880296/ybca-launches-artist-power-center-resource-for-financially-struggling-artists\">Artist Power Center\u003c/a>, an online platform meant to connect artists to grants and job opportunities; it has since sunsetted that project.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“It turned into some kind of weird thinktank that should’ve been out in the woods somewhere, maybe,” said Remington at the Conservancy board meeting. “But for the level of public subsidy in the middle of the city … YBCA, in my opinion, needs to be reined in.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>At the board meeting, Remington contrasted YBCA with SOMArts, a significantly less resourced nonprofit that’s also located in a city-owned building. While YBCA enjoys a spacious, modern, centrally located facility, SOMArts needs significant seismic improvements, and is in a much less desirable location, below a freeway underpass and away from BART and downtown offices. [aside postid='arts_13955613']\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“I would put on the table that we could move SOMArts into YBCA to share with SOMA Pilipinas,” said Remington, referring to another vibrant, less resourced arts organization, “and they could activate the building.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In a follow-up interview, Remington told KQED that these proposals are in their “embryonic” stages. He credited the Feb. 15 protesters, who now call themselves Bay Area Artists Against Genocide, with spurring important conversations about reforms at YBCA.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“I think the activists ultimately were successful because they drew attention to the issues at YBCA; they drew attention to the issue that they were actually protesting about,” he said in a video call. “And they brought about ultimate change that will happen with that organization as a result of these bold actions. … This is why civil disobedience and protest and having your voice heard is so important.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952464\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1920px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952464\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/240215-YBCAGazaProtest-29-BL_qut.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1920\" height=\"1280\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/240215-YBCAGazaProtest-29-BL_qut.jpg 1920w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/240215-YBCAGazaProtest-29-BL_qut-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/240215-YBCAGazaProtest-29-BL_qut-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/240215-YBCAGazaProtest-29-BL_qut-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/240215-YBCAGazaProtest-29-BL_qut-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/240215-YBCAGazaProtest-29-BL_qut-1536x1024.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1920px) 100vw, 1920px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Demonstators chant during a protest calling for a ceasefire in Gaza at the show ‘Bay Area Now’ at Yerba Buena Center for the Arts in San Francisco on Feb. 15, 2024. \u003ccite>(Beth LaBerge/KQED)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003ch2>Staff members reveal a schism with leadership\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>During the April 10 Conservancy board meeting, a handful of YBCA staff members spoke out during public comment, painting an image of broken trust between the art center’s leadership and YBCA workers. The employees said that, even amid leadership changes, they’ve spent years building relationships with artists and the public, and they now feel those relationships are in jeopardy due to the actions of the board and former CEO.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Rettew told KQED that he sees rebuilding trust with staff as one of his first priorities. (He declined to comment on recent staff resignations.) He also said that he’s working to make sure the art center fulfills its commitment to the city and its visitors.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“I cannot undo decisions that were made, or change what happened,” he said. “What I can do is help this organization move forward with integrity.” [aside postid='arts_13956575']\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>When asked about issues raised in the Feb. 15 protest, Rettew said YBCA would not join the Palestinian Campaign for an Academic and Cultural Boycott of Israel (PACBI), as artists demanded. (The boycott encourages international institutions to divest from Israeli institutions until Israel ends its siege and occupation of Gaza and the West Bank, among other conditions.)\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>When asked if YBCA would take a different approach to political messages in artists’ work, Rettew didn’t specify any changes. But he said that the censorship allegations “remain one of the most challenging and contentious issues of the past few months,” and underscored the institutions’ need to balance artistic expression with curatorial context.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13953036\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1920px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13953036\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/240215-YBCAGazaProtest-07-BL_qut.jpg\" alt='A sign over a wool rug reads \"No More Blood Money - Ceasefire Now!\"' width=\"1920\" height=\"1280\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/240215-YBCAGazaProtest-07-BL_qut.jpg 1920w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/240215-YBCAGazaProtest-07-BL_qut-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/240215-YBCAGazaProtest-07-BL_qut-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/240215-YBCAGazaProtest-07-BL_qut-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/240215-YBCAGazaProtest-07-BL_qut-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/240215-YBCAGazaProtest-07-BL_qut-1536x1024.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1920px) 100vw, 1920px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">A sign covers art by Tracy Ren during a protest calling for a ceasefire in Gaza at the show Bay Area Now at Yerba Buena Center for the Arts in San Francisco on Feb. 15, 2024. \u003ccite>(Beth LaBerge/KQED)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Rettew is now focused on YBCA’s upcoming programming. “I recognize that it is now our job to prove ourselves as a trustworthy partner to the community, and to artists, and the way that we will do that is by doubling down on our commitment to put on engaging and thought-provoking exhibitions, by filling our theater as many nights as possible, by putting together compelling public programs, and by working with our neighbors to continue the important work of bringing people downtown to the Yerba Buena District,” he wrote.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>YBCA’s next exhibition, a \u003ca href=\"https://ybca.org/ybca-announces-nick-dong-11-to-88-an-immersive-solo-exhibition/\">solo show by Oakland artist Nick Dong\u003c/a>, opens on June 6 and will be on view through Aug. 25. A spring dance festival presented by San Francisco Ballet School is slated for May 22-24; there’s also a free, all-ages art workshop scheduled for May 22.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Meanwhile, Remington hopes the Yerba Buena Gardens Conservancy will arrive at a plan of action for YBCA by the fall. The proposed San Francisco Board of Supervisors public hearing on censorship allegations at YBCA has not been scheduled.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad floatright]\u003c/p>\n","stats":{"hasVideo":false,"hasChartOrMap":false,"hasAudio":false,"hasPolis":false,"wordCount":1524,"hasGoogleForm":false,"hasGallery":false,"hasHearkenModule":false,"iframeSrcs":[],"paragraphCount":25},"modified":1715980497,"excerpt":"Interim CEO Jim Rettew wants to rebuild public trust after the art center's censorship controversies. ","headData":{"twImgId":"","twTitle":"","ogTitle":"","ogImgId":"","twDescription":"","description":"Interim CEO Jim Rettew wants to rebuild public trust after the art center's censorship controversies. ","title":"Amid Upheaval, a New CEO Steps in at Yerba Buena Center for the Arts | KQED","ogDescription":"","schema":{"@context":"http://schema.org","@type":"Article","headline":"Amid Upheaval, a New CEO Steps in at Yerba Buena Center for the Arts","datePublished":"2024-05-16T15:18:36-07:00","dateModified":"2024-05-17T14:14:57-07:00","image":"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/02/KQED-OG-Image@1x.png"}},"guestAuthors":[],"slug":"ybca-new-interim-ceo-jim-rettew","status":"publish","templateType":"standard","excludeFromSiteSearch":"Include","featuredImageType":"standard","sticky":false,"articleAge":"0","nprStoryId":"kqed-13958007","path":"/arts/13958007/ybca-new-interim-ceo-jim-rettew","audioTrackLength":null,"parsedContent":[{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp>A new CEO has stepped in to lead \u003ca href=\"https://ybca.org/\">Yerba Buena Center for the Arts\u003c/a> (YBCA), the embattled San Francisco arts organization whose \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13953653/ybca-ceo-resigns-after-pro-palestinian-protest-and-boycott\">previous interim CEO abruptly resigned\u003c/a> in March during the fallout of a pro-Palestinian protest.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Jim Rettew, the new interim CEO, has previously held five interim leadership roles at various nonprofits. His background as a crisis management expert will be put to the test at YBCA, which has been embroiled in controversy since a \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13952460/artists-deface-work-ybca-pro-palestine-protest\">Feb. 15 protest\u003c/a> during which eight artists spray painted and draped pro-Palestinian messages onto their own works in the \u003ci>Bay Area Now 9\u003c/i> exhibit.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13958014\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 906px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13958014\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/Jim-Rettew.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"906\" height=\"1155\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/Jim-Rettew.jpg 906w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/Jim-Rettew-800x1020.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/Jim-Rettew-160x204.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/Jim-Rettew-768x979.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 906px) 100vw, 906px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Jim Rettew is YBCA’s new interim CEO. \u003ccite>(Jim Rettew)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>In response to the protest, former interim CEO Sara Fenske Bahat and the board closed the galleries, which remained shuttered for a month. In open letters, \u003ca href=\"https://docs.google.com/document/d/1ZAoljeQycemJrzYNDyVoSN0gc6ogp5B3jUzj77qua2g/edit\">artists\u003c/a> and \u003ca href=\"https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLSdLNnUvnx74rLWZKIJaHUsMt4qOogFrBZ2OIeUjKjM2gblk6Q/viewform\">staff\u003c/a> accused YBCA leaders of censorship. Bahat resigned on March 3, citing “antisemitic backlash” and “the actions of some of our own employees” in her letter to the board. (Staff and leadership denied each other’s allegations.) San Francisco Supervisor Hillary Ronen, meanwhile, voiced support for the artists, and proposed an examination of the city’s support of YBCA at an upcoming Board of Supervisors meeting.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"","name":"aside","attributes":{"named":{"postid":"arts_13952460,arts_13953653","label":""},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>YBCA reopened in mid-March, but the turmoil continued. At least nine staff members have resigned in protest, according to employee comments during a public meeting. And YBCA now faces scrutiny from San Francisco’s Director of Cultural Affairs, who has proposed changes that would drastically alter how YBCA operates.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In an email interview, Rettew told KQED that he sees rebuilding public trust as one of YBCA’s biggest challenges, and that he’s spent his first few weeks on the job listening to employees.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“I’m now using those essential conversations to work with our staff to help deliver on the promises and aspirations of our organization,” he wrote. “I think that in many ways, the protest on Feb. 15 was a reflection of people asking the question: what do people expect from a cultural institution in 2024? We are working tirelessly to try to answer that question, and to create a space that is authentic and valuable to the public.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13954248\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13954248\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/03/240313-YBCAARTISTS-JY-014-KQED.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"2000\" height=\"1333\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/03/240313-YBCAARTISTS-JY-014-KQED.jpg 2000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/03/240313-YBCAARTISTS-JY-014-KQED-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/03/240313-YBCAARTISTS-JY-014-KQED-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/03/240313-YBCAARTISTS-JY-014-KQED-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/03/240313-YBCAARTISTS-JY-014-KQED-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/03/240313-YBCAARTISTS-JY-014-KQED-1536x1024.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/03/240313-YBCAARTISTS-JY-014-KQED-1920x1280.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2000px) 100vw, 2000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Bay Area Artists Against Genocide (B.A.A.A.G.) member Paz G displays design options at a screen-printing event artists organized outside of YBCA while the art center was closed in March 2024. \u003ccite>(Juliana Yamada/KQED)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003ch2>An art center on taxpayer-funded property\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>YBCA is under particular scrutiny because the private nonprofit enjoys significant, taxpayer-funded subsidies from the City and County of San Francisco. It occupies a city-owned building, rent free, on public land under a contract that’s subject to renewal through 2094. YBCA has also received tens of millions in taxpayer dollars since its founding in 1993; according to its most recent financial report, for fiscal year 2023, about 6% of its revenue and support came from the City and County of San Francisco. \u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"","name":"ad","attributes":{"named":{"label":"fullwidth"},"numeric":["fullwidth"]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Yerba Buena Gardens Conservancy, another nonprofit, manages the YBCA property, acting as an intermediary between YBCA and the city. In exchange for financial support and subsidies, YBCA is contractually obligated to offer “high-quality artistic programming to San Francisco residents and visitors.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>At the Conservancy’s most recent public board meeting on April 10, San Francisco’s Director of Cultural Affairs, Ralph Remington, sharply criticized YBCA for what he considers its failure to do so.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“With the level of subsidy YBCA receives … they should have been operating and maintaining the cultural facilities in a way that presents themselves as a world-class performing arts presenting, producing, exhibiting organization,” Remington said. “You’d have to go back into the distant past to see when that actually happened.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13958015\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2560px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13958015\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/Ralph-Remington-3_Photo-Credit-Aminda-Villa_0-scaled.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"2560\" height=\"1707\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/Ralph-Remington-3_Photo-Credit-Aminda-Villa_0-scaled.jpg 2560w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/Ralph-Remington-3_Photo-Credit-Aminda-Villa_0-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/Ralph-Remington-3_Photo-Credit-Aminda-Villa_0-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/Ralph-Remington-3_Photo-Credit-Aminda-Villa_0-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/Ralph-Remington-3_Photo-Credit-Aminda-Villa_0-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/Ralph-Remington-3_Photo-Credit-Aminda-Villa_0-1536x1024.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/Ralph-Remington-3_Photo-Credit-Aminda-Villa_0-2048x1365.jpg 2048w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/Ralph-Remington-3_Photo-Credit-Aminda-Villa_0-1920x1280.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2560px) 100vw, 2560px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">San Francisco Director of Cultural Affairs Ralph Remington said YBCA needs to be ‘reined in’ at a recent board meeting. \u003ccite>(Aminda Villa)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Indeed, YBCA significantly reduced its film programming in 2018 after \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13841205/curatorial-crisis-bay-area-art-institutions\">laying off the two-person department\u003c/a>. In 2020, it launched the \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13880296/ybca-launches-artist-power-center-resource-for-financially-struggling-artists\">Artist Power Center\u003c/a>, an online platform meant to connect artists to grants and job opportunities; it has since sunsetted that project.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“It turned into some kind of weird thinktank that should’ve been out in the woods somewhere, maybe,” said Remington at the Conservancy board meeting. “But for the level of public subsidy in the middle of the city … YBCA, in my opinion, needs to be reined in.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>At the board meeting, Remington contrasted YBCA with SOMArts, a significantly less resourced nonprofit that’s also located in a city-owned building. While YBCA enjoys a spacious, modern, centrally located facility, SOMArts needs significant seismic improvements, and is in a much less desirable location, below a freeway underpass and away from BART and downtown offices. \u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"","name":"aside","attributes":{"named":{"postid":"arts_13955613","label":""},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“I would put on the table that we could move SOMArts into YBCA to share with SOMA Pilipinas,” said Remington, referring to another vibrant, less resourced arts organization, “and they could activate the building.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In a follow-up interview, Remington told KQED that these proposals are in their “embryonic” stages. He credited the Feb. 15 protesters, who now call themselves Bay Area Artists Against Genocide, with spurring important conversations about reforms at YBCA.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“I think the activists ultimately were successful because they drew attention to the issues at YBCA; they drew attention to the issue that they were actually protesting about,” he said in a video call. “And they brought about ultimate change that will happen with that organization as a result of these bold actions. … This is why civil disobedience and protest and having your voice heard is so important.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952464\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1920px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952464\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/240215-YBCAGazaProtest-29-BL_qut.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1920\" height=\"1280\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/240215-YBCAGazaProtest-29-BL_qut.jpg 1920w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/240215-YBCAGazaProtest-29-BL_qut-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/240215-YBCAGazaProtest-29-BL_qut-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/240215-YBCAGazaProtest-29-BL_qut-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/240215-YBCAGazaProtest-29-BL_qut-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/240215-YBCAGazaProtest-29-BL_qut-1536x1024.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1920px) 100vw, 1920px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Demonstators chant during a protest calling for a ceasefire in Gaza at the show ‘Bay Area Now’ at Yerba Buena Center for the Arts in San Francisco on Feb. 15, 2024. \u003ccite>(Beth LaBerge/KQED)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003ch2>Staff members reveal a schism with leadership\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>During the April 10 Conservancy board meeting, a handful of YBCA staff members spoke out during public comment, painting an image of broken trust between the art center’s leadership and YBCA workers. The employees said that, even amid leadership changes, they’ve spent years building relationships with artists and the public, and they now feel those relationships are in jeopardy due to the actions of the board and former CEO.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Rettew told KQED that he sees rebuilding trust with staff as one of his first priorities. (He declined to comment on recent staff resignations.) He also said that he’s working to make sure the art center fulfills its commitment to the city and its visitors.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“I cannot undo decisions that were made, or change what happened,” he said. “What I can do is help this organization move forward with integrity.” \u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"","name":"aside","attributes":{"named":{"postid":"arts_13956575","label":""},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>When asked about issues raised in the Feb. 15 protest, Rettew said YBCA would not join the Palestinian Campaign for an Academic and Cultural Boycott of Israel (PACBI), as artists demanded. (The boycott encourages international institutions to divest from Israeli institutions until Israel ends its siege and occupation of Gaza and the West Bank, among other conditions.)\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>When asked if YBCA would take a different approach to political messages in artists’ work, Rettew didn’t specify any changes. But he said that the censorship allegations “remain one of the most challenging and contentious issues of the past few months,” and underscored the institutions’ need to balance artistic expression with curatorial context.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13953036\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1920px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13953036\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/240215-YBCAGazaProtest-07-BL_qut.jpg\" alt='A sign over a wool rug reads \"No More Blood Money - Ceasefire Now!\"' width=\"1920\" height=\"1280\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/240215-YBCAGazaProtest-07-BL_qut.jpg 1920w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/240215-YBCAGazaProtest-07-BL_qut-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/240215-YBCAGazaProtest-07-BL_qut-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/240215-YBCAGazaProtest-07-BL_qut-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/240215-YBCAGazaProtest-07-BL_qut-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/240215-YBCAGazaProtest-07-BL_qut-1536x1024.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1920px) 100vw, 1920px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">A sign covers art by Tracy Ren during a protest calling for a ceasefire in Gaza at the show Bay Area Now at Yerba Buena Center for the Arts in San Francisco on Feb. 15, 2024. \u003ccite>(Beth LaBerge/KQED)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Rettew is now focused on YBCA’s upcoming programming. “I recognize that it is now our job to prove ourselves as a trustworthy partner to the community, and to artists, and the way that we will do that is by doubling down on our commitment to put on engaging and thought-provoking exhibitions, by filling our theater as many nights as possible, by putting together compelling public programs, and by working with our neighbors to continue the important work of bringing people downtown to the Yerba Buena District,” he wrote.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>YBCA’s next exhibition, a \u003ca href=\"https://ybca.org/ybca-announces-nick-dong-11-to-88-an-immersive-solo-exhibition/\">solo show by Oakland artist Nick Dong\u003c/a>, opens on June 6 and will be on view through Aug. 25. A spring dance festival presented by San Francisco Ballet School is slated for May 22-24; there’s also a free, all-ages art workshop scheduled for May 22.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Meanwhile, Remington hopes the Yerba Buena Gardens Conservancy will arrive at a plan of action for YBCA by the fall. The proposed San Francisco Board of Supervisors public hearing on censorship allegations at YBCA has not been scheduled.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"","name":"ad","attributes":{"named":{"label":"floatright"},"numeric":["floatright"]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}}],"link":"/arts/13958007/ybca-new-interim-ceo-jim-rettew","authors":["11387"],"categories":["arts_1","arts_235"],"tags":["arts_10342","arts_10278","arts_3648","arts_1146","arts_1040","arts_1955"],"featImg":"arts_13954250","label":"arts"},"arts_13957645":{"type":"posts","id":"arts_13957645","meta":{"index":"posts_1716263798","site":"arts","id":"13957645","score":null,"sort":[1715374658000]},"parent":0,"labelTerm":{"site":"arts"},"blocks":[],"publishDate":1715374658,"format":"aside","title":"$100 Million Gift Paves Way for Affordable Artist Housing in San Francisco","headTitle":"$100 Million Gift Paves Way for Affordable Artist Housing in San Francisco | KQED","content":"\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13957614\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2160px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/1687-Market-Street.png\" alt=\"A computer rendering of a 17-story building, on a street with people and cars.\" width=\"2160\" height=\"2160\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13957614\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/1687-Market-Street.png 2160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/1687-Market-Street-800x800.png 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/1687-Market-Street-1020x1020.png 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/1687-Market-Street-160x160.png 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/1687-Market-Street-768x768.png 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/1687-Market-Street-1536x1536.png 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/1687-Market-Street-2048x2048.png 2048w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/1687-Market-Street-1920x1920.png 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2160px) 100vw, 2160px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">A rendering of the proposed artist housing at 1687 Market Street, planned with 100 affordable artist units, studio and rehearsal spaces, a community center and a black box theater. \u003ccite>(Mark Cavagnero Associates Architects)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>A new San Francisco development that would provide affordable housing and studio space for artists took its first step toward completion Friday.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Buoyed by a $100 million gift from an anonymous donor, two nonprofits, \u003ca href=\"https://projects.propublica.org/nonprofits/organizations/880678308\">Artists Hub on Market\u003c/a> and \u003ca href=\"https://www.mercyhousing.org/california/\">Mercy Housing of California\u003c/a>, filed plans with the city for 1687 Market St., the current site of the McRoskey Mattress Co. showroom.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The plans call for a 17-story building with 100 affordable apartments for artists, as well as studio space, practice rooms, a community center and a 99-seat black box theater. Though the construction price is not finalized, the gift was “based around the initial estimate” for such a project, according to \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13910898/randall-kline-stepping-down-from-sfjazz\">Randall Kline\u003c/a>, the president of Artists Hub on Market.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[aside postID='news_11973656']Kline said the project was inspired by the ongoing exodus of artists priced out of San Francisco as rents have skyrocketed and spaces closed. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“When I came to San Francisco almost 50 years ago, I was an aspiring artist, and I could live quite cheaply here,” he said. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“I think everyone’s in agreement that this would be a really great thing for the benefit of artists and the cultural life of San Francisco,” said Kline, who as founder and former director of SFJAZZ shepherded construction of the $64 million SFJAZZ Center, which opened in 2013 at Franklin and Fell Streets, six blocks from the proposed housing.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13928729\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1920px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/05/Randall.Kline_.2023.Gala_.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1920\" height=\"1281\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13928729\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/05/Randall.Kline_.2023.Gala_.jpg 1920w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/05/Randall.Kline_.2023.Gala_-800x534.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/05/Randall.Kline_.2023.Gala_-1020x681.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/05/Randall.Kline_.2023.Gala_-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/05/Randall.Kline_.2023.Gala_-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/05/Randall.Kline_.2023.Gala_-1536x1025.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1920px) 100vw, 1920px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">SFJAZZ founder Randall Kline accepts the Lifetime Achievement Award at the organization’s annual gala in San Francisco on May 4, 2023. \u003ccite>(Drew Alitzer Photography)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>According to Kline, both Mayor London Breed and San Francisco’s planning department have so far been enthusiastic about the project, known simply as 1687 Market. The project would be fast-tracked by \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/news/11923146/these-california-affordable-housing-bills-could-create-more-than-a-million-apartments-if-labor-unions-can-agree-on-terms\">Assembly Bill 2011\u003c/a>, approved in 2022, which encourages affordable housing on commercially zoned land.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The hope is to begin construction in late 2025, with completion sometime in 2027. Overseeing the project is San Francisco architect \u003ca href=\"https://www.cavagnero.com/\">Mark Cavagnero\u003c/a>, whose projects include the SFJAZZ Center as well as the nearby San Francisco Conservatory of Music. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[aside postID='arts_13910898']It is “far too soon” to provide an estimated monthly rent for space at 1687 Market, Kline said. Applications for artist housing in San Francisco are typically subject to a lottery, though \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13828581/san-francisco-looks-to-create-low-cost-housing-preference-for-artists\">that process has at times been onerous\u003c/a>. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>As an inspiration for 1867 Market, Kline cited New York City’s Manhattan Plaza, an artist building that has been home to many jazz musicians, as well as singer Alicia Keys, writer Tennessee Williams, actor Timothée Chalamet and others.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“There’s a building older than that, also, called Westbeth,” Kline said, referring to the downtown New York building that has housed jazz guitarist John Scofield, visual artist Nam June Paik, choreographer Merce Cunningham and actor Robert de Niro.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13957654\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1920px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/GettyImages-1321602984.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1920\" height=\"1304\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13957654\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/GettyImages-1321602984.jpg 1920w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/GettyImages-1321602984-800x543.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/GettyImages-1321602984-1020x693.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/GettyImages-1321602984-160x109.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/GettyImages-1321602984-768x522.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/GettyImages-1321602984-1536x1043.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1920px) 100vw, 1920px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Robin McRoskey Azevedo, pictured in 2010 at the McRoskey Mattress Co. on Market Street in San Francisco. The building site is planned for new artist housing. \u003ccite>(Liz Hafalia/The San Francisco Chronicle via Getty Images)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>The existing \u003ca href=\"https://www.mcroskey.com/heritage\">McRoskey Mattress Co.\u003c/a> building would be demolished to make way for the new housing. Building owner Robin McRoskey Azevedo sold the mattress company, which was founded in 1899, to Fresno-based Pleasant Mattress in 2018. In its factory loft, the building has hosted events with the San Francisco Silent Film Festival, for which Azevedo is a board member. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The project is coming about thanks to a combination of AB 2011, support from the city and a central location, Kline said, as well as \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13910898/randall-kline-stepping-down-from-sfjazz\">his decision last year to step down from SFJAZZ\u003c/a>. The anonymous donor, meanwhile, was crucial. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“I mean, what a gift to the city,” Kline said. “This is really a person who doesn’t care about notoriety, but does care about the artistic and cultural life of the city.”\u003c/p>\n\n","stats":{"hasVideo":false,"hasChartOrMap":false,"hasAudio":false,"hasPolis":false,"wordCount":688,"hasGoogleForm":false,"hasGallery":false,"hasHearkenModule":false,"iframeSrcs":[],"paragraphCount":16},"modified":1715977809,"excerpt":"Plans for the 100-unit building on Market Street were filed with the city on Friday.","headData":{"twImgId":"","twTitle":"","ogTitle":"","ogImgId":"","twDescription":"","description":"Plans for the 100-unit building on Market Street were filed with the city on Friday.","title":"$100 Million Gift Paves Way for Affordable Artist Housing in San Francisco | KQED","ogDescription":"","schema":{"@context":"http://schema.org","@type":"Article","headline":"$100 Million Gift Paves Way for Affordable Artist Housing in San Francisco","datePublished":"2024-05-10T13:57:38-07:00","dateModified":"2024-05-17T13:30:09-07:00","image":"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/02/KQED-OG-Image@1x.png"}},"guestAuthors":[],"slug":"100-million-gift-affordable-artist-housing-mcroskey-mattress-san-francisco","status":"publish","templateType":"standard","excludeFromSiteSearch":"Include","featuredImageType":"standard","sticky":false,"articleAge":"0","nprStoryId":"kqed-13957645","path":"/arts/13957645/100-million-gift-affordable-artist-housing-mcroskey-mattress-san-francisco","audioTrackLength":null,"parsedContent":[{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13957614\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2160px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/1687-Market-Street.png\" alt=\"A computer rendering of a 17-story building, on a street with people and cars.\" width=\"2160\" height=\"2160\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13957614\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/1687-Market-Street.png 2160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/1687-Market-Street-800x800.png 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/1687-Market-Street-1020x1020.png 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/1687-Market-Street-160x160.png 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/1687-Market-Street-768x768.png 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/1687-Market-Street-1536x1536.png 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/1687-Market-Street-2048x2048.png 2048w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/1687-Market-Street-1920x1920.png 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2160px) 100vw, 2160px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">A rendering of the proposed artist housing at 1687 Market Street, planned with 100 affordable artist units, studio and rehearsal spaces, a community center and a black box theater. \u003ccite>(Mark Cavagnero Associates Architects)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>A new San Francisco development that would provide affordable housing and studio space for artists took its first step toward completion Friday.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Buoyed by a $100 million gift from an anonymous donor, two nonprofits, \u003ca href=\"https://projects.propublica.org/nonprofits/organizations/880678308\">Artists Hub on Market\u003c/a> and \u003ca href=\"https://www.mercyhousing.org/california/\">Mercy Housing of California\u003c/a>, filed plans with the city for 1687 Market St., the current site of the McRoskey Mattress Co. showroom.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The plans call for a 17-story building with 100 affordable apartments for artists, as well as studio space, practice rooms, a community center and a 99-seat black box theater. Though the construction price is not finalized, the gift was “based around the initial estimate” for such a project, according to \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13910898/randall-kline-stepping-down-from-sfjazz\">Randall Kline\u003c/a>, the president of Artists Hub on Market.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"","name":"aside","attributes":{"named":{"postid":"news_11973656","label":""},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>Kline said the project was inspired by the ongoing exodus of artists priced out of San Francisco as rents have skyrocketed and spaces closed. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“When I came to San Francisco almost 50 years ago, I was an aspiring artist, and I could live quite cheaply here,” he said. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"","name":"ad","attributes":{"named":{"label":"fullwidth"},"numeric":["fullwidth"]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“I think everyone’s in agreement that this would be a really great thing for the benefit of artists and the cultural life of San Francisco,” said Kline, who as founder and former director of SFJAZZ shepherded construction of the $64 million SFJAZZ Center, which opened in 2013 at Franklin and Fell Streets, six blocks from the proposed housing.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13928729\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1920px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/05/Randall.Kline_.2023.Gala_.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1920\" height=\"1281\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13928729\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/05/Randall.Kline_.2023.Gala_.jpg 1920w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/05/Randall.Kline_.2023.Gala_-800x534.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/05/Randall.Kline_.2023.Gala_-1020x681.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/05/Randall.Kline_.2023.Gala_-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/05/Randall.Kline_.2023.Gala_-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/05/Randall.Kline_.2023.Gala_-1536x1025.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1920px) 100vw, 1920px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">SFJAZZ founder Randall Kline accepts the Lifetime Achievement Award at the organization’s annual gala in San Francisco on May 4, 2023. \u003ccite>(Drew Alitzer Photography)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>According to Kline, both Mayor London Breed and San Francisco’s planning department have so far been enthusiastic about the project, known simply as 1687 Market. The project would be fast-tracked by \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/news/11923146/these-california-affordable-housing-bills-could-create-more-than-a-million-apartments-if-labor-unions-can-agree-on-terms\">Assembly Bill 2011\u003c/a>, approved in 2022, which encourages affordable housing on commercially zoned land.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The hope is to begin construction in late 2025, with completion sometime in 2027. Overseeing the project is San Francisco architect \u003ca href=\"https://www.cavagnero.com/\">Mark Cavagnero\u003c/a>, whose projects include the SFJAZZ Center as well as the nearby San Francisco Conservatory of Music. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"","name":"aside","attributes":{"named":{"postid":"arts_13910898","label":""},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>It is “far too soon” to provide an estimated monthly rent for space at 1687 Market, Kline said. Applications for artist housing in San Francisco are typically subject to a lottery, though \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13828581/san-francisco-looks-to-create-low-cost-housing-preference-for-artists\">that process has at times been onerous\u003c/a>. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>As an inspiration for 1867 Market, Kline cited New York City’s Manhattan Plaza, an artist building that has been home to many jazz musicians, as well as singer Alicia Keys, writer Tennessee Williams, actor Timothée Chalamet and others.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“There’s a building older than that, also, called Westbeth,” Kline said, referring to the downtown New York building that has housed jazz guitarist John Scofield, visual artist Nam June Paik, choreographer Merce Cunningham and actor Robert de Niro.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13957654\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1920px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/GettyImages-1321602984.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1920\" height=\"1304\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13957654\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/GettyImages-1321602984.jpg 1920w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/GettyImages-1321602984-800x543.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/GettyImages-1321602984-1020x693.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/GettyImages-1321602984-160x109.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/GettyImages-1321602984-768x522.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/GettyImages-1321602984-1536x1043.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1920px) 100vw, 1920px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Robin McRoskey Azevedo, pictured in 2010 at the McRoskey Mattress Co. on Market Street in San Francisco. The building site is planned for new artist housing. \u003ccite>(Liz Hafalia/The San Francisco Chronicle via Getty Images)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>The existing \u003ca href=\"https://www.mcroskey.com/heritage\">McRoskey Mattress Co.\u003c/a> building would be demolished to make way for the new housing. Building owner Robin McRoskey Azevedo sold the mattress company, which was founded in 1899, to Fresno-based Pleasant Mattress in 2018. In its factory loft, the building has hosted events with the San Francisco Silent Film Festival, for which Azevedo is a board member. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The project is coming about thanks to a combination of AB 2011, support from the city and a central location, Kline said, as well as \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13910898/randall-kline-stepping-down-from-sfjazz\">his decision last year to step down from SFJAZZ\u003c/a>. The anonymous donor, meanwhile, was crucial. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“I mean, what a gift to the city,” Kline said. “This is really a person who doesn’t care about notoriety, but does care about the artistic and cultural life of the city.”\u003c/p>\n\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}}],"link":"/arts/13957645/100-million-gift-affordable-artist-housing-mcroskey-mattress-san-francisco","authors":["185"],"categories":["arts_1","arts_235"],"tags":["arts_10342","arts_10278","arts_4544","arts_163","arts_2216","arts_2048"],"featImg":"arts_13957653","label":"arts"},"food_1337551":{"type":"posts","id":"food_1337551","meta":{"index":"posts_1716263798","site":"food","id":"1337551","score":null,"sort":[1716418541000]},"guestAuthors":[],"slug":"the-real-life-san-francisco-diner-that-inspired-bobs-burgers","title":"The Real-Life San Francisco Diner That Inspired Bob's Burgers","publishDate":1716418541,"format":"video","headTitle":"The Real-Life San Francisco Diner That Inspired Bob’s Burgers | KQED","labelTerm":{},"content":"\u003cp>Did you know Bob’s Burgers has its roots in the Bay Area? Though the animated series is set on the East Coast, many of its defining elements were created in San Francisco. The theme song was written by creator Loren Bouchard, inspired by a drum and bass night at the nightclub below his 16th and Harrison Street apartment. The characters were designed by artist (and former \u003ca href=\"https://atlascafe.net/\">Altas Cafe\u003c/a> barista)\u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/punksgitcut\"> Jay Howell\u003c/a>. The distinctly-San Franciscan Victorian architecture that comprises the Bob’s Burgers background environment were created by Mission District artist \u003ca href=\"https://www.sirronnorris.com/\">Sirron Norris\u003c/a>. And, yes, the Bob’s Burgers restaurant itself was modeled after a diner in San Francisco’s Dogpatch neighborhood. No Crumbs’ Josh Decolongon made a pilgrimage to the Just For You Cafe (now \u003ca href=\"https://www.giulianasjustforyou.com/\">Giuliana’s Just For You\u003c/a>) to sample the menu and discover what it was about this local restaurant that had captured Bouchard’s imagination.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>About No Crumbs: \u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In KQED’s vertical video series \u003cem>No Crumbs\u003c/em>, host Josh Decolongon is a foodie field reporter, uncovering histories and celebrating the culture behind the Bay Area’s exciting and diverse culinary landscape. No Crumbs will inspire new perspectives on the Bay Area food scene you thought you knew.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Subscribe to KQED Food’s \u003ca href=\"http://youtube.com/@KQEDFood?sub_confirmation=1\">YouTube channel\u003c/a> and follow us on \u003ca href=\"http://Instagram.com/KQEDFood\">social\u003c/a>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n","blocks":[],"excerpt":null,"status":"publish","parent":0,"modified":1716418541,"stats":{"hasAudio":false,"hasVideo":false,"hasChartOrMap":false,"iframeSrcs":[],"hasGoogleForm":false,"hasGallery":false,"hasHearkenModule":false,"hasPolis":false,"paragraphCount":6,"wordCount":226},"headData":{"title":"The Real-Life San Francisco Diner That Inspired Bob's Burgers | KQED","description":"No Crumbs host Josh Decolongon tracks down the real-life San Francisco diner that inspired the animated sitcom Bob's Burgers.","ogTitle":"","ogDescription":"","ogImgId":"","twTitle":"","twDescription":"","twImgId":"","socialDescription":"No Crumbs host Josh Decolongon tracks down the real-life San Francisco diner that inspired the animated sitcom Bob's Burgers.","schema":{"@context":"http://schema.org","@type":"Article","headline":"The Real-Life San Francisco Diner That Inspired Bob's Burgers","datePublished":"2024-05-22T15:55:41-07:00","dateModified":"2024-05-22T15:55:41-07:00","image":"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/02/KQED-OG-Image@1x.png"}},"videoEmbed":"https://youtu.be/EHOv9huxGNY?si=Pgx2NxyAJrcrMTGK","source":"Food","sourceUrl":"https://www.kqed.org/food","sticky":false,"excludeFromSiteSearch":"Include","showOnAuthorArchivePages":"No","articleAge":"0","path":"/food/1337551/the-real-life-san-francisco-diner-that-inspired-bobs-burgers","audioTrackLength":null,"parsedContent":[{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp>Did you know Bob’s Burgers has its roots in the Bay Area? Though the animated series is set on the East Coast, many of its defining elements were created in San Francisco. The theme song was written by creator Loren Bouchard, inspired by a drum and bass night at the nightclub below his 16th and Harrison Street apartment. The characters were designed by artist (and former \u003ca href=\"https://atlascafe.net/\">Altas Cafe\u003c/a> barista)\u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/punksgitcut\"> Jay Howell\u003c/a>. The distinctly-San Franciscan Victorian architecture that comprises the Bob’s Burgers background environment were created by Mission District artist \u003ca href=\"https://www.sirronnorris.com/\">Sirron Norris\u003c/a>. And, yes, the Bob’s Burgers restaurant itself was modeled after a diner in San Francisco’s Dogpatch neighborhood. No Crumbs’ Josh Decolongon made a pilgrimage to the Just For You Cafe (now \u003ca href=\"https://www.giulianasjustforyou.com/\">Giuliana’s Just For You\u003c/a>) to sample the menu and discover what it was about this local restaurant that had captured Bouchard’s imagination.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>About No Crumbs: \u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In KQED’s vertical video series \u003cem>No Crumbs\u003c/em>, host Josh Decolongon is a foodie field reporter, uncovering histories and celebrating the culture behind the Bay Area’s exciting and diverse culinary landscape. No Crumbs will inspire new perspectives on the Bay Area food scene you thought you knew.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Subscribe to KQED Food’s \u003ca href=\"http://youtube.com/@KQEDFood?sub_confirmation=1\">YouTube channel\u003c/a> and follow us on \u003ca href=\"http://Instagram.com/KQEDFood\">social\u003c/a>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"","name":"ad","attributes":{"named":{"label":"fullwidth"},"numeric":["fullwidth"]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}}],"link":"/food/1337551/the-real-life-san-francisco-diner-that-inspired-bobs-burgers","authors":["11828","11333"],"series":["food_331"],"categories":["food_1"],"tags":["food_347","food_349","food_350","food_261","food_230","food_348"],"featImg":"food_1337552","label":"source_food_1337551"},"food_1337545":{"type":"posts","id":"food_1337545","meta":{"index":"posts_1716263798","site":"food","id":"1337545","score":null,"sort":[1716417983000]},"guestAuthors":[],"slug":"a-dos-and-donts-guide-to-house-of-prime-rib","title":"A Do's and Don'ts Guide to House of Prime Rib","publishDate":1716417983,"format":"video","headTitle":"A Do’s and Don’ts Guide to House of Prime Rib | KQED","labelTerm":{},"content":"\u003cp>If you’ve ever lived in San Francisco, you know \u003ca href=\"https://www.houseofprimerib.net/\">the House of Prime Rib\u003c/a>. Founded in 1949 and renowned for its enormous portions, the House of Prime Rib is everyone’s go-to old school restaurant for anniversaries, birthdays, and other special events. If you’re a newbie to the city, you may be overwhelmed with questions like: how the heck do I get a reservation? What should I order? And how will I survive the onslaught of succulent meat? No Crumbs’ host Josh Decolongon has crafted a Do’s and Don’ts guide to ensure you have a stress-free visit at this famous Polk Gulch eatery.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>About No Crumbs: \u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In KQED’s vertical video series \u003cem>No Crumbs\u003c/em>, host Josh Decolongon is a foodie field reporter, uncovering histories and celebrating the culture behind the Bay Area’s exciting and diverse culinary landscape. No Crumbs will inspire new perspectives on the Bay Area food scene you thought you knew.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Subscribe to KQED Food’s \u003ca href=\"http://youtube.com/@KQEDFood?sub_confirmation=1\">YouTube channel\u003c/a> and follow us on \u003ca href=\"http://Instagram.com/KQEDFood\">social\u003c/a>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n","blocks":[],"excerpt":null,"status":"publish","parent":0,"modified":1716417983,"stats":{"hasAudio":false,"hasVideo":false,"hasChartOrMap":false,"iframeSrcs":[],"hasGoogleForm":false,"hasGallery":false,"hasHearkenModule":false,"hasPolis":false,"paragraphCount":6,"wordCount":184},"headData":{"title":"A Do's and Don'ts Guide to House of Prime Rib | KQED","description":"KQED No Crumbs' host Josh Decolongon has crafted this Do's and Don’ts guide to eating at beloved San Francisco restaurant House of Prime Rib.","ogTitle":"","ogDescription":"","ogImgId":"","twTitle":"","twDescription":"","twImgId":"","socialDescription":"KQED No Crumbs' host Josh Decolongon has crafted this Do's and Don’ts guide to eating at beloved San Francisco restaurant House of Prime Rib.","schema":{"@context":"http://schema.org","@type":"Article","headline":"A Do's and Don'ts Guide to House of Prime Rib","datePublished":"2024-05-22T15:46:23-07:00","dateModified":"2024-05-22T15:46:23-07:00","image":"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/02/KQED-OG-Image@1x.png"}},"videoEmbed":"https://youtu.be/EkOZPxo3qPM?si=s9z0vWX06USBmEyY","source":"Food","sourceUrl":"https://www.kqed.org/food","sticky":false,"excludeFromSiteSearch":"Include","showOnAuthorArchivePages":"No","articleAge":"0","path":"/food/1337545/a-dos-and-donts-guide-to-house-of-prime-rib","audioTrackLength":null,"parsedContent":[{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp>If you’ve ever lived in San Francisco, you know \u003ca href=\"https://www.houseofprimerib.net/\">the House of Prime Rib\u003c/a>. Founded in 1949 and renowned for its enormous portions, the House of Prime Rib is everyone’s go-to old school restaurant for anniversaries, birthdays, and other special events. If you’re a newbie to the city, you may be overwhelmed with questions like: how the heck do I get a reservation? What should I order? And how will I survive the onslaught of succulent meat? No Crumbs’ host Josh Decolongon has crafted a Do’s and Don’ts guide to ensure you have a stress-free visit at this famous Polk Gulch eatery.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>About No Crumbs: \u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In KQED’s vertical video series \u003cem>No Crumbs\u003c/em>, host Josh Decolongon is a foodie field reporter, uncovering histories and celebrating the culture behind the Bay Area’s exciting and diverse culinary landscape. No Crumbs will inspire new perspectives on the Bay Area food scene you thought you knew.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Subscribe to KQED Food’s \u003ca href=\"http://youtube.com/@KQEDFood?sub_confirmation=1\">YouTube channel\u003c/a> and follow us on \u003ca href=\"http://Instagram.com/KQEDFood\">social\u003c/a>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"","name":"ad","attributes":{"named":{"label":"fullwidth"},"numeric":["fullwidth"]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}}],"link":"/food/1337545/a-dos-and-donts-guide-to-house-of-prime-rib","authors":["11828","11333"],"series":["food_331"],"categories":["food_1"],"tags":["food_336","food_261","food_338","food_337"],"featImg":"food_1337546","label":"source_food_1337545"},"arts_13955802":{"type":"posts","id":"arts_13955802","meta":{"index":"posts_1716263798","site":"arts","id":"13955802","score":null,"sort":[1713390752000]},"parent":0,"labelTerm":{},"blocks":[],"publishDate":1713390752,"format":"standard","title":"Here’s What Bay Area Rappers Are Eating (According to Their Lyrics)","headTitle":"Here’s What Bay Area Rappers Are Eating (According to Their Lyrics) | KQED","content":"\u003cp>[dropcap]W[/dropcap]hen conveying what it means to really be from the Bay Area, I often return to this simple yet revelatory \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/tag/mac-dre\">Mac Dre\u003c/a> lyric: “In the Bay Area, we dance a little different.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Whether it’s in our music, political activism or technological contributions, there’s a certain out-of-box forwardness that tends to manifest from Bay Area minds — and a pride in how we approach everything with a savvy sprinkling of game, hustlership and top-tier ideation.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The same can be said for the Bay Area’s food scene, which ranks among the nation’s best and most imaginative. From sourdough bread to the eternal Mission-style burrito, the Bay’s foodmakers have often been ahead of the curve, helping to revolutionize menus nationwide with their fresh farm-to-table approach. To borrow from the great Mac, one could say that in the Bay Area, we \u003ci>eat\u003c/i> a little different.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">[aside postID='arts_13907726,arts_13934248']\u003c/span>It’s no surprise, then, that in the history of local rap, food has always been a strong reference point — a metaphorical kitchen for creative exchange. An endless platter of well-seasoned slang. For decades, our rappers have delivered punchlines involving sauce, lasagna and \u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XMah0rX6pGU\">lumpia\u003c/a>; dropped verses that generously reference \u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lkBJR5L2nas\">desserts and bakeries\u003c/a>; and supplied entire songs about stacking bread, cheese and lettuce as lucrative sandwiches.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ca href=\"https://www.sfchronicle.com/food/restaurants/article/bay-area-rap-shrimp-crab-17915372.php\">Food-loving Bay Area rappers\u003c/a> have always been bold when it comes to transmorphing culinary items and kitchen utensils into slang that others then appropriate and even misuse (see: “\u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13908052/food-doesnt-slap\">food doesn’t slap\u003c/a>”). Shock G once talked about getting busy in a Burger King bathroom and declared, “I like my oatmeal lumpy.” On “Dreganomics,” Mac Dre himself asked, “What’s spaghetti without the sauce?” We’ve got Suga T (sweet) and Spice 1 (hot). Berner founded \u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/cookiessf/?hl=en\">Cookies\u003c/a>. And just a few weeks ago, \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13900085/stunnaman02-and-the-big-steppin-energy-in-the-room\">Stunnaman02\u003c/a> dropped a whole series of viral videos centered on his latest single. His focus? \u003ca href=\"https://www.tiktok.com/@jayworrld/video/7340701934355254574\">Eating a salad\u003c/a>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>There’s a unifying ethos in Bay Area food and rap: \u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E6GU3PmttyI\">Everybody eats\u003c/a>. So here’s a brief ode to some of our region’s most skilled vocabulary chefs and the tasteful ways they’ve reimagined the ingredients of language that are possible in a kitchen — and the recording studio.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13956090\" class=\"wp-caption alignnone\" style=\"max-width: 2000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13956090\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/E40-Color-1.jpg\" alt=\"Illustration of the rapper E-40 in sunglasses and a beige apron, holding a glass of red wine. In front of him are a burrito and a grilled cheese sandwich.\" width=\"2000\" height=\"2000\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/E40-Color-1.jpg 2000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/E40-Color-1-800x800.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/E40-Color-1-1020x1020.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/E40-Color-1-160x160.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/E40-Color-1-768x768.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/E40-Color-1-1536x1536.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/E40-Color-1-1920x1920.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2000px) 100vw, 2000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">E-40 might be the most prolific inventor of food-related slang words in the English language. He’s a head chef in the Bay Area’s rap kingdom. \u003ccite>(Torre / @torre.pentel)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003ch2>E-40: Green eggs, hams, candy yams, Spam, cheese, peanut butter and jam on “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=etIBcRriUJY\">The Slap\u003c/a>”\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>“Digital scale, green eggs and hams / Yams, candy yams, Spam, damn! / Loaded, my cheese, peanut butter and jam / Sammich, mannish, me and my Hispanics / Vanish, talkin’ in codes like we from different planets.”\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Though it may sound like gibberish to the uninitiated, rest assured that \u003ca href=\"https://firstwefeast.com/eat/2013/12/food-rap-decoded-with-e-40-video\">99.99% of anything 40 Water vocalizes has a cleverly associative meaning\u003c/a>. For anyone who has listened to one of the more than 25 studio albums from Vallejo’s kingpin, you’ve surely heard him mention food — perhaps in a variety of languages (some real, some ingeniously invented). In addition to the smorgasbord he notes above in “The Slap,” he has pioneered rhymes across generations that give new meanings to Gouda, feta, mozzarella, lettuce, bread, sausage, salami, paninis, spaghetti, tacos and enchiladas — ad infinitum. Unsurprisingly, \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13907726/e-40-goon-with-the-spoon-bay-area-rappers-food-entrepreneurs-hustle\">Mr. Fonzarelli is an actual purveyor of foods and beverages\u003c/a>, with a line of products that includes malt liquor, ice cream and burritos; he even co-owns \u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/thelumpiacompany/\">The Lumpia Company\u003c/a>. There’s no one with a bigger million-dollar mouthpiece who can distribute as much word candy (“S-L-A-N-G”) quite as flavorfully as the Goon With The Spoon himself.\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>Andre Nickatina: TOGO’s #41 sandwich with the hot peppers on “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_FU1XdPE6lM\">Fa Show\u003c/a>”\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>“Baby don’t act dumb, I’m number 41, high stepper / TOGO’s sandwich with the hot peppers / At 90 degrees I might freeze, so when it’s hot I sport leather.”\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Fillmore’s finest, and among \u003ca href=\"https://www.passionweiss.com/2016/11/17/andre-nickatina/\">the most criminally underrated San Francisco rappers in history\u003c/a>, Andre Nickatina has always had a penchant for the spicy, the flavorful, the extemporaneously saucy. From rapping about eating Cap’n Crunch around drug dealers to sarcastically handing out Baskin Robbins dollars to his enemies, Nicky Nicotine (formerly known as Dre Dog) raps about food as casually as any rapper would ever dare. Unlike many of today’s international rap personalities, who seem to only eat at \u003ca href=\"https://www.reddit.com/r/OutOfTheLoop/comments/6frbt9/why_are_rappers_obsessed_with_nobu_sushi/\">high-priced sushi conglomerates\u003c/a>, Nickatina is a Bay Area real one, electing to stay fed at a regional sandwich chain from San Jose. The enigmatic “number 41” on the \u003ca href=\"https://www.togos.com/menu/?gad_source=1&gclid=CjwKCAjwoPOwBhAeEiwAJuXRh69gJ2fS8J9qmnAKJEnCmI5720psTxEmhEmkgFAemWoe3auyNuuxExoCTm0QAvD_BwE\">Togo’s menu\u003c/a> has since been discontinued, but a spokesperson for the restaurant IDed it as a sirloin steak and mushroom sandwich that was introduced as a seasonal special back in 2002 — the same year “Fa Show” was released. There is no doubt it must’ve been fire, given its endorsement by a legend who knows how to professionally “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o8TXpoi-goE\">Break Bread\u003c/a>.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13956088\" class=\"wp-caption alignnone\" style=\"max-width: 2000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13956088\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/KAMAIYAH-Color-1.jpg\" alt=\"Illustration of the rapper Kamaiyah eating from a plate of chicken alfredo tucked under her arm. Next to her is a bottle of champagne.\" width=\"2000\" height=\"2000\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/KAMAIYAH-Color-1.jpg 2000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/KAMAIYAH-Color-1-800x800.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/KAMAIYAH-Color-1-1020x1020.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/KAMAIYAH-Color-1-160x160.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/KAMAIYAH-Color-1-768x768.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/KAMAIYAH-Color-1-1536x1536.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/KAMAIYAH-Color-1-1920x1920.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2000px) 100vw, 2000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Kamaiyah’s album covers often feature food, Hennessey and champagne — a reflection of the rapper’s saucy, bossy lifestyle. \u003ccite>(Torre / @torre.pentel)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003ch2>Kamaiyah: Champagne and chicken on “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yls2dMJ63tM\">Whatever Whenever\u003c/a>”\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>“Just drink champagne with all my chicken meals.”\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>It’s fitting that East Oakland’s Kamaiyah — who cooked up the searingly hot single “How Does It Feel” on her transcendent debut, \u003ci>A Good Night in the Ghetto\u003c/i> — continued to double down on aspirational living and good eating with her sophomore release, \u003ci>Got It Made\u003c/i>. As always, the bodacious trapper rhymes over a synth-laced, floaty-spaceship soundscape while bragging about her California riches — and cuisine. The music video for “Whatever Whenever” features Kamaiyah roaming the untainted grounds of a Napa Valley-esque chateau. Her album covers over the years have also featured bags of potato chips, Hennessy and double-fisted bottles of champagne. It’s always bottoms up when Kamaiyah is on the track.\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>Too $hort: Macaroni, steak and collard greens on “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ru5B8cFskaw\">All My B*tches Are Gone\u003c/a>”\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>“Eat some shit up / macaroni, steak, collard greens, or whatever the fuck.”\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>With over 35 years of classic albums like \u003ci>Cocktails\u003c/i> and \u003ci>Gettin’ It\u003c/i>, there’s no doubt that Short Dogg knows how to feed his multi-generational fanbase. He doesn’t shy away from straightforward lyrics — or having a large appetite for nefarious activities — and he has continued to make seasoned slaps for precisely 225,000 hours and counting (“get a calculator, do the math”). This OG’s plate of choice includes classic soul food staples served with a slab of steak. As the veteran unmistakably outlines on “This How We Eat”: “We make money, we eat, we feed.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13956087\" class=\"wp-caption alignnone\" style=\"max-width: 2000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13956087\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/LARRY-JUNE-Color-1.jpg\" alt=\"Illustration of the rapper Larry June in an SF Giants cap, holding a crab cracker in one hand and a fork in the other. In front of him is a whole lobster on a plate.\" width=\"2000\" height=\"2000\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/LARRY-JUNE-Color-1.jpg 2000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/LARRY-JUNE-Color-1-800x800.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/LARRY-JUNE-Color-1-1020x1020.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/LARRY-JUNE-Color-1-160x160.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/LARRY-JUNE-Color-1-768x768.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/LARRY-JUNE-Color-1-1536x1536.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/LARRY-JUNE-Color-1-1920x1920.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2000px) 100vw, 2000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Besides establishing himself as the healthiest rapper in Bay Area lore, Larry June is also known for sporting vintage muscle cars and cracking lobsters in Sausalito as part of his luxurious lifestyle. \u003ccite>(Torre / @torre.pentel)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003ch2>Larry June: Crab legs on “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=luIhlZBrJos\">Lifetime Income\u003c/a>”\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>“This not my girlfriend, we just eatin’ crab legs.”\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>If you know Larry June, then you know he’s all about smoothies, green teas, organic juices and oranges (yee hee!). But just as buttery are his numerously silky references to luxury meals and late-night outings with a seemingly endless rotation of women friends. Without question, the Hunters Point rapper has one of the healthiest appetites of anyone around a microphone, regularly dropping rhymes about his organic sustenance. Since Uncle Larry makes a living off his out-of-pocket food references, he merits an honorable mention for dropping other absolute bangers like “I might write a motherfuckin’ smoothie book or somethin’ … Sell this shit for thirty dollars” and “Watermelon juice riding bikes with my latest chick / I don’t do the clubs that often, I got a check to get.” It’s fitting that \u003ca href=\"https://uproxx.com/music/larry-june-interview-san-francisco/\">he also co-owns Honeybear Boba in the Dogpatch\u003c/a>.\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>Iamsu!: Chicken strips and Moscato on “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lQcxMU3uvLg\">Don’t Stop\u003c/a>”\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>“Keep it real I don’t brag though… / Chicken strips, no escargot / [sippin’] on the Moscato.”\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>To be fair, this lyric is from a young, mixtape-era Iamsu! and might not reflect the current palate of the multi-platinum rapper and producer from Richmond. (In fact, that’s probably true of every rapper on this list, so take these lyrics with a grain of salt.) But when I first heard this song in my 20s, it’s a line that did — and still does — resonate for its unglamorized celebration of living on a low-budget microwaveable diet while maintaining a glimmer of high-life ambition. Personally, I’d take chicken strips over escargot nine out of ten times. And, from the sound of it, so would Suzy 6 Speed.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13956086\" class=\"wp-caption alignnone\" style=\"max-width: 2000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13956086\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/PLO-Color-1.jpg\" alt=\"The rapper P-Lo wiggles his fingers in delight over a plate of chicken wings sitting on a bed of dollar bills.\" width=\"2000\" height=\"2000\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/PLO-Color-1.jpg 2000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/PLO-Color-1-800x800.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/PLO-Color-1-1020x1020.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/PLO-Color-1-160x160.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/PLO-Color-1-768x768.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/PLO-Color-1-1536x1536.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/PLO-Color-1-1920x1920.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2000px) 100vw, 2000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">P-Lo often raps about his love of chicken (chicken adobo, fried chicken, chicken wings), and his favorite food-related slang word is also “chicken” (as a stand in for “money”). \u003ccite>(Torre / @torre.pentel)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003ch2>P-Lo: Chicken wings in the strip club on “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h-ajtPhAQ1U\">Going To Work\u003c/a>”\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>“In the strip club eating chicken wings.”\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">[aside postID='arts_13938479']\u003c/span>There may not be another rapper on this list with as much love for chicken wings as Pinole’s P-Lo. For starters, the lyricist and producer launched a transnational food tour, teaming up with Filipino restaurants around the U.S. and Canada to deliver collaborative one-off dishes, including \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13935891/p-lo-senor-sisig-filipino-food-tour-oakland\">his own spicy sinigang wings at Señor Sisig in Oakland\u003c/a>. If that’s not enough, he has popped up on popular social media channels like \u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/bayareafoodz/?hl=en\">Bay Area Foodz\u003c/a> as \u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lJYkVcpM6E0\">he searches for the best wings around the Yay\u003c/a>. His songs are even featured on \u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/reel/CwyzdhfrNCE/\">national commercials for Wingstop\u003c/a>. For P-Lo, it’s always time to bring back the bass — and taste.\u003cb>\u003ci>\u003c/i>\u003c/b>\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>Guap (formerly Guapdad 4000): Chicken adobo on “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1DaovaJgytE\">Chicken Adobo\u003c/a>”\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>“How I fell in love with you it was beautiful / Like chicken adobo how you fill me up.”\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>For the Black Filipino American rapper from West Oakland, \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13905208/a-new-generation-of-filipino-hip-hop-builds-on-a-deep-bay-area-legacy\">food has always played a central role in his upbringing\u003c/a>. The anime-loving, Marvel comics fan grew up in a Filipino household eating champorado, and his songs have never shied away from references to his dual cultures. In what might be his most well-known song, Guap equates romantic satiation to filling up on a bowl of chicken adobo. His love of food goes beyond the booth — he recently spoke out on \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13950363/keith-lee-tiktok-oakland-sf-bay-area-struggles\">the recent Keith Lee fiasco\u003c/a>, and he also put together\u003ca href=\"https://trippin.world/guide/oaklands-top-food-joints-with-rapper-guapdad-4000\"> a map of his favorite places to eat around The Town\u003c/a>.\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>Cellski: Canadian bacon, hash browns and cheddar cheese on “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o6wFRZOd7n8\">Chedda\u003c/a>”\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>“Gotta get the cheddar, fuck the [federals].”\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>As most food mentions in Bay Area rap goes, Cellski’s mention of this quintessentially North American breakfast combo isn’t exactly a homage to the real ingredients, as much as it is a reference to his hustling. His 1998 \u003ca href=\"https://www.discogs.com/release/841568-Cellski-Canadian-Bacon-Hash-Browns/image/SW1hZ2U6NDg3ODMxNzk=\">album cover\u003c/a> for \u003ci>Canadian Bacon & Hash Browns \u003c/i>features a cartoon depiction of the rapper getting pulled over and arrested by a Canadian mountie, with an open trunk revealing pounds of medicinal herbs. Nonetheless, there’s a good chance that the veteran San Francisco spitter actually does like to carry Canadian bacon, hash browns and cheddar around — \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13922141/cellskis-big-mafi-burgers-come-with-a-side-of-sf-rap-history\">he’s a part-time foodie who runs his own burger pop-up, after all\u003c/a>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13956089\" class=\"wp-caption alignnone\" style=\"max-width: 2000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13956089\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/DRU-DOWN-Color-1.jpg\" alt=\"Illustration of the rapper Dru Down in gold sunglasses and a black trench coat, holding an ice cream cone in one hand and an ice cream sundae on the table in front of him.\" width=\"2000\" height=\"2000\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/DRU-DOWN-Color-1.jpg 2000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/DRU-DOWN-Color-1-800x800.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/DRU-DOWN-Color-1-1020x1020.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/DRU-DOWN-Color-1-160x160.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/DRU-DOWN-Color-1-768x768.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/DRU-DOWN-Color-1-1536x1536.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/DRU-DOWN-Color-1-1920x1920.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2000px) 100vw, 2000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">In a famous 1996 beef, Dru Down and the Luniz accused New Orleans rapper Master P (who started his musical career in the Bay Area) for stealing their concept of the “Ice Cream Man” — slang for a narcotics dealer. \u003ccite>(Torre / @torre.pentel)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003ch2>Dru Down: Ice cream on “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3uNv2qAje-Q\">Ice Cream Man\u003c/a>” (with the Luniz)\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>“Get your ice cream, ice cream / Not Ice-T, not Ice Cube, ice cream.”\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad floatright]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Not intended for children, the classic 1993 anthem off Dru Down’s \u003ci>Fools From The Street \u003c/i>paints a startling picture of addiction and illicit drug distribution around Oakland in the wake of Richard Nixon and Ronald Reagan’s War on Drugs. Despite its unapologetic content, “Ice Cream Man” went on to establish an indisputably popular food motif in national rap music: ice cream as a stand-in for drug dealing. Since the production includes an audio sampling of an ice cream truck’s inimitable tune, listening to it evokes a sense of nostalgia for the frozen treat — and for \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/bayareahiphop\">golden-era Bay Area hip-hop\u003c/a>.\u003c/p>\n\n","stats":{"hasVideo":false,"hasChartOrMap":false,"hasAudio":false,"hasPolis":false,"wordCount":2211,"hasGoogleForm":false,"hasGallery":false,"hasHearkenModule":false,"iframeSrcs":[],"paragraphCount":28},"modified":1713412777,"excerpt":"A brief look at some of the Bay Area’s most notoriously hungry rappers — and the foods they’ve lyricized about.","headData":{"twImgId":"","twTitle":"Here’s What Bay Area Rappers Are Eating (According to Their Lyrics)","socialTitle":"Bay Area Rappers and Food Lyrics %%page%% %%sep%% KQED","ogTitle":"Here’s What Bay Area Rappers Are Eating (According to Their Lyrics)","ogImgId":"","twDescription":"","description":"A brief look at some of the Bay Area’s most notoriously hungry rappers — and the foods they’ve lyricized about.","title":"Bay Area Rappers and Food Lyrics | KQED","ogDescription":"","schema":{"@context":"http://schema.org","@type":"Article","headline":"Here’s What Bay Area Rappers Are Eating (According to Their Lyrics)","datePublished":"2024-04-17T14:52:32-07:00","dateModified":"2024-04-17T20:59:37-07:00","image":"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/02/KQED-OG-Image@1x.png"}},"guestAuthors":[],"slug":"bay-area-rappers-food-lyrics-illustrations-e-40-larry-june","status":"publish","sourceUrl":"https://www.kqed.org/food","excludeFromSiteSearch":"Include","sticky":false,"source":"Food","articleAge":"0","path":"/arts/13955802/bay-area-rappers-food-lyrics-illustrations-e-40-larry-june","audioTrackLength":null,"parsedContent":[{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003cspan class=\"utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__dropcapShortcode__dropcap\">W\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\u003cp>hen conveying what it means to really be from the Bay Area, I often return to this simple yet revelatory \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/tag/mac-dre\">Mac Dre\u003c/a> lyric: “In the Bay Area, we dance a little different.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Whether it’s in our music, political activism or technological contributions, there’s a certain out-of-box forwardness that tends to manifest from Bay Area minds — and a pride in how we approach everything with a savvy sprinkling of game, hustlership and top-tier ideation.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The same can be said for the Bay Area’s food scene, which ranks among the nation’s best and most imaginative. From sourdough bread to the eternal Mission-style burrito, the Bay’s foodmakers have often been ahead of the curve, helping to revolutionize menus nationwide with their fresh farm-to-table approach. To borrow from the great Mac, one could say that in the Bay Area, we \u003ci>eat\u003c/i> a little different.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">\u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"","name":"aside","attributes":{"named":{"postid":"arts_13907726,arts_13934248","label":""},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/span>It’s no surprise, then, that in the history of local rap, food has always been a strong reference point — a metaphorical kitchen for creative exchange. An endless platter of well-seasoned slang. For decades, our rappers have delivered punchlines involving sauce, lasagna and \u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XMah0rX6pGU\">lumpia\u003c/a>; dropped verses that generously reference \u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lkBJR5L2nas\">desserts and bakeries\u003c/a>; and supplied entire songs about stacking bread, cheese and lettuce as lucrative sandwiches.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ca href=\"https://www.sfchronicle.com/food/restaurants/article/bay-area-rap-shrimp-crab-17915372.php\">Food-loving Bay Area rappers\u003c/a> have always been bold when it comes to transmorphing culinary items and kitchen utensils into slang that others then appropriate and even misuse (see: “\u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13908052/food-doesnt-slap\">food doesn’t slap\u003c/a>”). Shock G once talked about getting busy in a Burger King bathroom and declared, “I like my oatmeal lumpy.” On “Dreganomics,” Mac Dre himself asked, “What’s spaghetti without the sauce?” We’ve got Suga T (sweet) and Spice 1 (hot). Berner founded \u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/cookiessf/?hl=en\">Cookies\u003c/a>. And just a few weeks ago, \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13900085/stunnaman02-and-the-big-steppin-energy-in-the-room\">Stunnaman02\u003c/a> dropped a whole series of viral videos centered on his latest single. His focus? \u003ca href=\"https://www.tiktok.com/@jayworrld/video/7340701934355254574\">Eating a salad\u003c/a>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"","name":"ad","attributes":{"named":{"label":"fullwidth"},"numeric":["fullwidth"]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>There’s a unifying ethos in Bay Area food and rap: \u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E6GU3PmttyI\">Everybody eats\u003c/a>. So here’s a brief ode to some of our region’s most skilled vocabulary chefs and the tasteful ways they’ve reimagined the ingredients of language that are possible in a kitchen — and the recording studio.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13956090\" class=\"wp-caption alignnone\" style=\"max-width: 2000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13956090\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/E40-Color-1.jpg\" alt=\"Illustration of the rapper E-40 in sunglasses and a beige apron, holding a glass of red wine. In front of him are a burrito and a grilled cheese sandwich.\" width=\"2000\" height=\"2000\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/E40-Color-1.jpg 2000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/E40-Color-1-800x800.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/E40-Color-1-1020x1020.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/E40-Color-1-160x160.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/E40-Color-1-768x768.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/E40-Color-1-1536x1536.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/E40-Color-1-1920x1920.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2000px) 100vw, 2000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">E-40 might be the most prolific inventor of food-related slang words in the English language. He’s a head chef in the Bay Area’s rap kingdom. \u003ccite>(Torre / @torre.pentel)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003ch2>E-40: Green eggs, hams, candy yams, Spam, cheese, peanut butter and jam on “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=etIBcRriUJY\">The Slap\u003c/a>”\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>“Digital scale, green eggs and hams / Yams, candy yams, Spam, damn! / Loaded, my cheese, peanut butter and jam / Sammich, mannish, me and my Hispanics / Vanish, talkin’ in codes like we from different planets.”\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Though it may sound like gibberish to the uninitiated, rest assured that \u003ca href=\"https://firstwefeast.com/eat/2013/12/food-rap-decoded-with-e-40-video\">99.99% of anything 40 Water vocalizes has a cleverly associative meaning\u003c/a>. For anyone who has listened to one of the more than 25 studio albums from Vallejo’s kingpin, you’ve surely heard him mention food — perhaps in a variety of languages (some real, some ingeniously invented). In addition to the smorgasbord he notes above in “The Slap,” he has pioneered rhymes across generations that give new meanings to Gouda, feta, mozzarella, lettuce, bread, sausage, salami, paninis, spaghetti, tacos and enchiladas — ad infinitum. Unsurprisingly, \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13907726/e-40-goon-with-the-spoon-bay-area-rappers-food-entrepreneurs-hustle\">Mr. Fonzarelli is an actual purveyor of foods and beverages\u003c/a>, with a line of products that includes malt liquor, ice cream and burritos; he even co-owns \u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/thelumpiacompany/\">The Lumpia Company\u003c/a>. There’s no one with a bigger million-dollar mouthpiece who can distribute as much word candy (“S-L-A-N-G”) quite as flavorfully as the Goon With The Spoon himself.\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>Andre Nickatina: TOGO’s #41 sandwich with the hot peppers on “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_FU1XdPE6lM\">Fa Show\u003c/a>”\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>“Baby don’t act dumb, I’m number 41, high stepper / TOGO’s sandwich with the hot peppers / At 90 degrees I might freeze, so when it’s hot I sport leather.”\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Fillmore’s finest, and among \u003ca href=\"https://www.passionweiss.com/2016/11/17/andre-nickatina/\">the most criminally underrated San Francisco rappers in history\u003c/a>, Andre Nickatina has always had a penchant for the spicy, the flavorful, the extemporaneously saucy. From rapping about eating Cap’n Crunch around drug dealers to sarcastically handing out Baskin Robbins dollars to his enemies, Nicky Nicotine (formerly known as Dre Dog) raps about food as casually as any rapper would ever dare. Unlike many of today’s international rap personalities, who seem to only eat at \u003ca href=\"https://www.reddit.com/r/OutOfTheLoop/comments/6frbt9/why_are_rappers_obsessed_with_nobu_sushi/\">high-priced sushi conglomerates\u003c/a>, Nickatina is a Bay Area real one, electing to stay fed at a regional sandwich chain from San Jose. The enigmatic “number 41” on the \u003ca href=\"https://www.togos.com/menu/?gad_source=1&gclid=CjwKCAjwoPOwBhAeEiwAJuXRh69gJ2fS8J9qmnAKJEnCmI5720psTxEmhEmkgFAemWoe3auyNuuxExoCTm0QAvD_BwE\">Togo’s menu\u003c/a> has since been discontinued, but a spokesperson for the restaurant IDed it as a sirloin steak and mushroom sandwich that was introduced as a seasonal special back in 2002 — the same year “Fa Show” was released. There is no doubt it must’ve been fire, given its endorsement by a legend who knows how to professionally “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o8TXpoi-goE\">Break Bread\u003c/a>.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13956088\" class=\"wp-caption alignnone\" style=\"max-width: 2000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13956088\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/KAMAIYAH-Color-1.jpg\" alt=\"Illustration of the rapper Kamaiyah eating from a plate of chicken alfredo tucked under her arm. Next to her is a bottle of champagne.\" width=\"2000\" height=\"2000\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/KAMAIYAH-Color-1.jpg 2000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/KAMAIYAH-Color-1-800x800.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/KAMAIYAH-Color-1-1020x1020.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/KAMAIYAH-Color-1-160x160.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/KAMAIYAH-Color-1-768x768.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/KAMAIYAH-Color-1-1536x1536.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/KAMAIYAH-Color-1-1920x1920.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2000px) 100vw, 2000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Kamaiyah’s album covers often feature food, Hennessey and champagne — a reflection of the rapper’s saucy, bossy lifestyle. \u003ccite>(Torre / @torre.pentel)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003ch2>Kamaiyah: Champagne and chicken on “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yls2dMJ63tM\">Whatever Whenever\u003c/a>”\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>“Just drink champagne with all my chicken meals.”\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>It’s fitting that East Oakland’s Kamaiyah — who cooked up the searingly hot single “How Does It Feel” on her transcendent debut, \u003ci>A Good Night in the Ghetto\u003c/i> — continued to double down on aspirational living and good eating with her sophomore release, \u003ci>Got It Made\u003c/i>. As always, the bodacious trapper rhymes over a synth-laced, floaty-spaceship soundscape while bragging about her California riches — and cuisine. The music video for “Whatever Whenever” features Kamaiyah roaming the untainted grounds of a Napa Valley-esque chateau. Her album covers over the years have also featured bags of potato chips, Hennessy and double-fisted bottles of champagne. It’s always bottoms up when Kamaiyah is on the track.\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>Too $hort: Macaroni, steak and collard greens on “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ru5B8cFskaw\">All My B*tches Are Gone\u003c/a>”\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>“Eat some shit up / macaroni, steak, collard greens, or whatever the fuck.”\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>With over 35 years of classic albums like \u003ci>Cocktails\u003c/i> and \u003ci>Gettin’ It\u003c/i>, there’s no doubt that Short Dogg knows how to feed his multi-generational fanbase. He doesn’t shy away from straightforward lyrics — or having a large appetite for nefarious activities — and he has continued to make seasoned slaps for precisely 225,000 hours and counting (“get a calculator, do the math”). This OG’s plate of choice includes classic soul food staples served with a slab of steak. As the veteran unmistakably outlines on “This How We Eat”: “We make money, we eat, we feed.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13956087\" class=\"wp-caption alignnone\" style=\"max-width: 2000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13956087\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/LARRY-JUNE-Color-1.jpg\" alt=\"Illustration of the rapper Larry June in an SF Giants cap, holding a crab cracker in one hand and a fork in the other. In front of him is a whole lobster on a plate.\" width=\"2000\" height=\"2000\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/LARRY-JUNE-Color-1.jpg 2000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/LARRY-JUNE-Color-1-800x800.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/LARRY-JUNE-Color-1-1020x1020.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/LARRY-JUNE-Color-1-160x160.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/LARRY-JUNE-Color-1-768x768.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/LARRY-JUNE-Color-1-1536x1536.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/LARRY-JUNE-Color-1-1920x1920.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2000px) 100vw, 2000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Besides establishing himself as the healthiest rapper in Bay Area lore, Larry June is also known for sporting vintage muscle cars and cracking lobsters in Sausalito as part of his luxurious lifestyle. \u003ccite>(Torre / @torre.pentel)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003ch2>Larry June: Crab legs on “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=luIhlZBrJos\">Lifetime Income\u003c/a>”\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>“This not my girlfriend, we just eatin’ crab legs.”\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>If you know Larry June, then you know he’s all about smoothies, green teas, organic juices and oranges (yee hee!). But just as buttery are his numerously silky references to luxury meals and late-night outings with a seemingly endless rotation of women friends. Without question, the Hunters Point rapper has one of the healthiest appetites of anyone around a microphone, regularly dropping rhymes about his organic sustenance. Since Uncle Larry makes a living off his out-of-pocket food references, he merits an honorable mention for dropping other absolute bangers like “I might write a motherfuckin’ smoothie book or somethin’ … Sell this shit for thirty dollars” and “Watermelon juice riding bikes with my latest chick / I don’t do the clubs that often, I got a check to get.” It’s fitting that \u003ca href=\"https://uproxx.com/music/larry-june-interview-san-francisco/\">he also co-owns Honeybear Boba in the Dogpatch\u003c/a>.\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>Iamsu!: Chicken strips and Moscato on “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lQcxMU3uvLg\">Don’t Stop\u003c/a>”\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>“Keep it real I don’t brag though… / Chicken strips, no escargot / [sippin’] on the Moscato.”\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>To be fair, this lyric is from a young, mixtape-era Iamsu! and might not reflect the current palate of the multi-platinum rapper and producer from Richmond. (In fact, that’s probably true of every rapper on this list, so take these lyrics with a grain of salt.) But when I first heard this song in my 20s, it’s a line that did — and still does — resonate for its unglamorized celebration of living on a low-budget microwaveable diet while maintaining a glimmer of high-life ambition. Personally, I’d take chicken strips over escargot nine out of ten times. And, from the sound of it, so would Suzy 6 Speed.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13956086\" class=\"wp-caption alignnone\" style=\"max-width: 2000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13956086\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/PLO-Color-1.jpg\" alt=\"The rapper P-Lo wiggles his fingers in delight over a plate of chicken wings sitting on a bed of dollar bills.\" width=\"2000\" height=\"2000\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/PLO-Color-1.jpg 2000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/PLO-Color-1-800x800.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/PLO-Color-1-1020x1020.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/PLO-Color-1-160x160.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/PLO-Color-1-768x768.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/PLO-Color-1-1536x1536.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/PLO-Color-1-1920x1920.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2000px) 100vw, 2000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">P-Lo often raps about his love of chicken (chicken adobo, fried chicken, chicken wings), and his favorite food-related slang word is also “chicken” (as a stand in for “money”). \u003ccite>(Torre / @torre.pentel)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003ch2>P-Lo: Chicken wings in the strip club on “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h-ajtPhAQ1U\">Going To Work\u003c/a>”\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>“In the strip club eating chicken wings.”\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">\u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"","name":"aside","attributes":{"named":{"postid":"arts_13938479","label":""},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/span>There may not be another rapper on this list with as much love for chicken wings as Pinole’s P-Lo. For starters, the lyricist and producer launched a transnational food tour, teaming up with Filipino restaurants around the U.S. and Canada to deliver collaborative one-off dishes, including \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13935891/p-lo-senor-sisig-filipino-food-tour-oakland\">his own spicy sinigang wings at Señor Sisig in Oakland\u003c/a>. If that’s not enough, he has popped up on popular social media channels like \u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/bayareafoodz/?hl=en\">Bay Area Foodz\u003c/a> as \u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lJYkVcpM6E0\">he searches for the best wings around the Yay\u003c/a>. His songs are even featured on \u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/reel/CwyzdhfrNCE/\">national commercials for Wingstop\u003c/a>. For P-Lo, it’s always time to bring back the bass — and taste.\u003cb>\u003ci>\u003c/i>\u003c/b>\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>Guap (formerly Guapdad 4000): Chicken adobo on “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1DaovaJgytE\">Chicken Adobo\u003c/a>”\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>“How I fell in love with you it was beautiful / Like chicken adobo how you fill me up.”\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>For the Black Filipino American rapper from West Oakland, \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13905208/a-new-generation-of-filipino-hip-hop-builds-on-a-deep-bay-area-legacy\">food has always played a central role in his upbringing\u003c/a>. The anime-loving, Marvel comics fan grew up in a Filipino household eating champorado, and his songs have never shied away from references to his dual cultures. In what might be his most well-known song, Guap equates romantic satiation to filling up on a bowl of chicken adobo. His love of food goes beyond the booth — he recently spoke out on \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13950363/keith-lee-tiktok-oakland-sf-bay-area-struggles\">the recent Keith Lee fiasco\u003c/a>, and he also put together\u003ca href=\"https://trippin.world/guide/oaklands-top-food-joints-with-rapper-guapdad-4000\"> a map of his favorite places to eat around The Town\u003c/a>.\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>Cellski: Canadian bacon, hash browns and cheddar cheese on “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o6wFRZOd7n8\">Chedda\u003c/a>”\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>“Gotta get the cheddar, fuck the [federals].”\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>As most food mentions in Bay Area rap goes, Cellski’s mention of this quintessentially North American breakfast combo isn’t exactly a homage to the real ingredients, as much as it is a reference to his hustling. His 1998 \u003ca href=\"https://www.discogs.com/release/841568-Cellski-Canadian-Bacon-Hash-Browns/image/SW1hZ2U6NDg3ODMxNzk=\">album cover\u003c/a> for \u003ci>Canadian Bacon & Hash Browns \u003c/i>features a cartoon depiction of the rapper getting pulled over and arrested by a Canadian mountie, with an open trunk revealing pounds of medicinal herbs. Nonetheless, there’s a good chance that the veteran San Francisco spitter actually does like to carry Canadian bacon, hash browns and cheddar around — \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13922141/cellskis-big-mafi-burgers-come-with-a-side-of-sf-rap-history\">he’s a part-time foodie who runs his own burger pop-up, after all\u003c/a>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13956089\" class=\"wp-caption alignnone\" style=\"max-width: 2000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13956089\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/DRU-DOWN-Color-1.jpg\" alt=\"Illustration of the rapper Dru Down in gold sunglasses and a black trench coat, holding an ice cream cone in one hand and an ice cream sundae on the table in front of him.\" width=\"2000\" height=\"2000\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/DRU-DOWN-Color-1.jpg 2000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/DRU-DOWN-Color-1-800x800.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/DRU-DOWN-Color-1-1020x1020.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/DRU-DOWN-Color-1-160x160.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/DRU-DOWN-Color-1-768x768.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/DRU-DOWN-Color-1-1536x1536.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/DRU-DOWN-Color-1-1920x1920.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2000px) 100vw, 2000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">In a famous 1996 beef, Dru Down and the Luniz accused New Orleans rapper Master P (who started his musical career in the Bay Area) for stealing their concept of the “Ice Cream Man” — slang for a narcotics dealer. \u003ccite>(Torre / @torre.pentel)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003ch2>Dru Down: Ice cream on “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3uNv2qAje-Q\">Ice Cream Man\u003c/a>” (with the Luniz)\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>“Get your ice cream, ice cream / Not Ice-T, not Ice Cube, ice cream.”\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"","name":"ad","attributes":{"named":{"label":"floatright"},"numeric":["floatright"]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Not intended for children, the classic 1993 anthem off Dru Down’s \u003ci>Fools From The Street \u003c/i>paints a startling picture of addiction and illicit drug distribution around Oakland in the wake of Richard Nixon and Ronald Reagan’s War on Drugs. Despite its unapologetic content, “Ice Cream Man” went on to establish an indisputably popular food motif in national rap music: ice cream as a stand-in for drug dealing. Since the production includes an audio sampling of an ice cream truck’s inimitable tune, listening to it evokes a sense of nostalgia for the frozen treat — and for \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/bayareahiphop\">golden-era Bay Area hip-hop\u003c/a>.\u003c/p>\n\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}}],"link":"/arts/13955802/bay-area-rappers-food-lyrics-illustrations-e-40-larry-june","authors":["11748"],"categories":["arts_1","arts_12276","arts_69"],"tags":["arts_21883","arts_5397","arts_1601","arts_10278","arts_1297","arts_3771","arts_831","arts_21738","arts_1558","arts_9337","arts_1143","arts_1803","arts_1146","arts_19942","arts_19347","arts_3478","arts_3800"],"featImg":"arts_13956152","label":"source_arts_13955802"},"arts_13952260":{"type":"posts","id":"arts_13952260","meta":{"index":"posts_1716263798","site":"arts","id":"13952260","score":null,"sort":[1707929631000]},"parent":0,"labelTerm":{},"blocks":[],"publishDate":1707929631,"format":"aside","title":"Turntablism’s Mightiest Heroes: The Legacy, Impact and Aesthetics of the Invisibl Skratch Piklz","headTitle":"Turntablism’s Mightiest Heroes: The Legacy, Impact and Aesthetics of the Invisibl Skratch Piklz | KQED","content":"\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952272\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1080px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952272\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-backstage-in-SF-2017.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1080\" height=\"1080\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-backstage-in-SF-2017.jpg 1080w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-backstage-in-SF-2017-800x800.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-backstage-in-SF-2017-1020x1020.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-backstage-in-SF-2017-160x160.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-backstage-in-SF-2017-768x768.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1080px) 100vw, 1080px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">The Invisibl Skratch Piklz’ cultural impact over the past 40 years has been felt around the globe. The crew is pictured here backstage in San Francisco in 2017. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Shortkut)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>\u003cstrong>Editor’s note\u003c/strong>: This story is part of \u003c/em>\u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/bayareahiphop/\">That’s My Word\u003c/a>\u003cem>, KQED’s story series on \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/bayareahiphop/\">Bay Area hip-hop\u003c/a> history.\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>On an overcast November day in Oakland, DJ Shortkut – a member of the Invisibl Skratch Piklz DJ crew – was the featured performer on a boat cruise, as part of the DMC World DJ Finals festivities. The weather didn’t get too rough during the two-hour tour, which meandered out to the Bay Bridge and back to port at Jack London Square. The worst was some mildly choppy squalls into fierce headwinds. Because this wasn’t your average boat cruise – its attendees mainly consisted of DJs from all over the world in town for the DMC battle – the ship’s crew circled around Treasure Island for a bit, instead of heading further out into the open sea.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The calmer waters allowed Shortkut, who had been playing a vibrant set of mostly classic midtempo hip-hop, to show off his mixing and scratching skills a bit. As the boat headed back toward its East Bay dock, Shortkut unleashed an impressive display of scratching skills that lasted for a good five minutes. As the boat neared its mooring, the DJ called his peers to the turntables. What followed was an unforgettable, and super-fun, display of global turntablism at its best, as each DJ in succession laid down a wicked scratch segment.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13937761\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13937761\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-DMCBattle-22-BL-KQED.jpg\" alt=\"A person with a shaved head stands at a table as a screen behind them shows the images of several people.\" width=\"2000\" height=\"1333\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-DMCBattle-22-BL-KQED.jpg 2000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-DMCBattle-22-BL-KQED-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-DMCBattle-22-BL-KQED-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-DMCBattle-22-BL-KQED-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-DMCBattle-22-BL-KQED-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-DMCBattle-22-BL-KQED-1536x1024.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-DMCBattle-22-BL-KQED-1920x1280.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2000px) 100vw, 2000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Shortkut performs with Invisibl Skratch Piklz during the DMC World DJ Finals at The Midway in San Francisco, Calif., on Nov. 3, 2023. \u003ccite>(Beth LaBerge/KQED)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>It seemed appropriate for Shortkut to be leading the activities. Once a battle entrant in the DMCs himself and understudy to fellow Piklz Qbert, Apollo, and Mix Master Mike, Shortkut has become an accomplished master in his own right – most recently playing an opening set on LL Cool J’s star-studded Hip Hop 50 tour. The message to the younger DJs on the boat was clear: keep developing your skills and be a balanced DJ who can rise to any occasion – scratching and beat-juggling skills are nice, but rocking a party with impeccable selection while displaying your skills is even better.\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>Perfecting – and Teaching – the Art\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>The Piklz first rose to prominence during the ’90s, winning multiple world DJ battle titles as a crew and individually while displaying innovative new techniques that elevated turntablism to unprecedented heights. After revolutionizing the artform and birthing scratch music as a genre, by the decade’s end, they had left an indelible mark on DJ culture and furthered its global reach.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952265\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1759px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952265\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan_.decks_.93.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1759\" height=\"1196\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan_.decks_.93.jpg 1759w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan_.decks_.93-800x544.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan_.decks_.93-1020x694.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan_.decks_.93-160x109.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan_.decks_.93-768x522.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan_.decks_.93-1536x1044.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1759px) 100vw, 1759px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">The Invisibl Skratch Piklz in Japan in 1993. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Alex Aquino)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Christie Zee, the organizer for 2023’s DMC World Battle, held in San Francisco, has worked off and on for the London-based organization since 1998. She first became aware of the Piklz from an old boyfriend’s copy of DJ Qbert’s \u003cem>Demolition Pumpkin Squeeze Musik\u003c/em> mixtape – “It just had so much scratching and it was so fun,” she says. She recalls meeting the crew for the first time in 1999, at the DMC World Finals.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“I’m really delicate, really careful about (saying) \u003cem>pioneer\u003c/em> versus \u003cem>legend\u003c/em>, but I do think they were pioneering, because of things they’ve innovated and presented and invented,” she says. “They didn’t invent the scratch, but they just progressed the hell out of it.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“Obviously they have titles under their belts,” says Rob Swift, a founding member of the X-Men/X-Ecutioners, the New York turntablists who famously battled the Piklz in 1996. “But for me, I would say their most pivotal contribution to DJing is teaching the art. Before the Invisibl Skratch Piklz, nobody was teaching. DJing was a secret art.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952266\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1759px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952266\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan2_.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1759\" height=\"1192\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan2_.jpg 1759w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan2_-800x542.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan2_-1020x691.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan2_-160x108.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan2_-768x520.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan2_-1536x1041.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1759px) 100vw, 1759px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Invisibl Skratch Piklz with Japanese fans, 1993. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Alex Aquino)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Swift – who’s been teaching a DJ course at the New School for Liberal Arts in New York since 2014 – speaks from experience. Within months of Qbert developing the crab scratch, Swift was using the technique in battles. He cites the instructional \u003cem>Turntable TV\u003c/em> series of video tutorials as not only an inspiration for the X-Men, but also for other DJs and even corporate entities. As a result, more people started DJing and the culture grew.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“Before the Piklz, all of us had our own personal terminology for DJing. But the Piklz started (creating) terms that globally started to become accepted and become the consensus terms… Q started giving individual techniques specific names. In doing so, it made the art teachable, because you can’t teach someone by saying, yo, make it go \u003cem>wigga wigga wigga wigga\u003c/em>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“Now these guys are selling videos to kids in Japan, kids in Canada, kids across the country, kids in Europe that had no clue how to do this shit… Myself, (Roc) Raida, Mista Sinista, (Total) Eclipse, we were inspired by Q, and we started teaching how to juggle, and we made videotapes just like them.” Without the Picklz, he says, there wouldn’t be “the ripple effects of what we see now, of all these DJ schools, all of these people teaching on YouTube, all these online tutorials, all these companies designing gear with all these effects.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952270\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1759px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952270\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Japan_.vestax.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1759\" height=\"1156\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Japan_.vestax.jpg 1759w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Japan_.vestax-800x526.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Japan_.vestax-1020x670.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Japan_.vestax-160x105.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Japan_.vestax-768x505.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Japan_.vestax-1536x1009.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1759px) 100vw, 1759px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Invisibl Skratch Piklz at Vestax headquarters in Tokyo, Japan, to preview their signature mixer. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Alex Aquino)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003ch2>Signature Models and Scratch Technique\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>The Piklz also served as consultants to audio companies like Vestax and Ortofon to develop ISP-branded mixers and needles; more recently, Shortkut served as a brand ambassador for Serato’s vinyl emulation software. In a 2022 video tutorial for \u003cem>Wired\u003c/em>, the master turntablist demonstrates 15 levels of scratching, from the basic “baby scratch” to complex combos, rhythm and drum scratches, and the beat-juggle.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>According to Shortkut, beat-juggling is “live manual remixing, basically, with two turntables and a mixer” utilizing two copies of the same record, or two different records. When done properly, the technique creates an entirely new beat using existing sounds.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Mix Master Mike estimates that he and Qbert have named hundreds of specific scratches. Among his original contributions is the “Tweaker,” which was developed accidentally, due to a power outage. “When you cut a turntable off, the sound still comes out of it” when the needle is left on the record. “You got to manually move the belt with your hand, which (makes) a totally way-out, dragging sound from the record.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952268\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1759px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.3fromsideshortkut.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1759\" height=\"1186\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952268\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.3fromsideshortkut.jpg 1759w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.3fromsideshortkut-800x539.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.3fromsideshortkut-1020x688.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.3fromsideshortkut-160x108.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.3fromsideshortkut-768x518.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.3fromsideshortkut-1536x1036.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1759px) 100vw, 1759px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Invisibl Skratch Piklz, mid-routine in Seattle, 1994. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Alex Aquino)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>In live shows, Mike deploys an arsenal of sound banks with trees of various audio samples for different instruments. He often improvises his sets – rarely playing the same scratch solo twice. With all the scratches he’s invented, “If I’m performing live, it’s all about if I can remember it on the spot.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Qbert’s most ubiquitous scratch may be the crab, which uses the crossfader to chop the audio signal, similar to the transformer scratch. Unlike the transformer – performed with just thumb and forefinger – the crab utilizes a rapid tapping motion with the other three fingers, resulting in finer chops, like a triplet of 1/16th notes instead of quarter-notes. The crab can then be combined with other techniques like the stab, the tear, or the orbit to create an infinite number of scratch patterns.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Q says the crab has nothing to do with crustaceans, actually. It was originally called the crepe, based off a food order he’d made in Lebanon. Except no one could pronounce the rolled r’s of a Lebanese accent correctly. Among the other scratches he’s named personally, “there’s like the hydro, the laser, the phaser, the swipe, oh man, let’s see, there’s the clover tear, the prism scratch. … there’s so many.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952274\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 749px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952274\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/1996-Vestax-ISP-ad.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"749\" height=\"960\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/1996-Vestax-ISP-ad.jpg 749w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/1996-Vestax-ISP-ad-160x205.jpg 160w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 749px) 100vw, 749px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">A Vestax advertisement for the Invisibl Skratch Piklz’ signature mixer. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Shortkut)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003ch2>100mph Backsliding Turkey Kuts\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>The Piklz began developing tools for DJs with the original \u003cem>Battle Breaks\u003c/em> vinyl record, which resampled various sound effects and verbal phrases, making them more scratch-friendly and accessible. Their imprint Dirt Style has released dozens of such records over the decades with names like \u003cem>Bionic Booger Breaks\u003c/em>, \u003cem>Buttcrack Breaks\u003c/em>, or \u003cem>Scratch Fetishes of the Third Kind\u003c/em>. These records are sometimes credited to DJ Qbert, DJ Flare or Mix Master Mike, and sometimes credited to aliases like the Psychedelic Scratch Bastards, The Wax Fondler and Darth Fader.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>Battle Breaks\u003c/em> led to another innovation: the \u003cem>Scratchy Seal\u003c/em> series of skipless records. As Qbert explains, there’s a science behind this. “If you look at the turntable, it spins at 33 ⅓ — 33.33333 (revolutions) per minute. If you just make the BPM of the sound effect 33-point-dee dee dee dee dee dee dee dee dee dee, the magic number, it’s all going to be repetitive. No matter where the needle jumps, it’s going to land on the same sound again.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952264\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1920px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952264\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/AAA_Q_MMM_best_PhotobyJeffStrawBranding-2000.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1920\" height=\"1280\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/AAA_Q_MMM_best_PhotobyJeffStrawBranding-2000.jpg 1920w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/AAA_Q_MMM_best_PhotobyJeffStrawBranding-2000-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/AAA_Q_MMM_best_PhotobyJeffStrawBranding-2000-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/AAA_Q_MMM_best_PhotobyJeffStrawBranding-2000-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/AAA_Q_MMM_best_PhotobyJeffStrawBranding-2000-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/AAA_Q_MMM_best_PhotobyJeffStrawBranding-2000-1536x1024.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1920px) 100vw, 1920px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Qbert and Mix Master Mike backstage at the 2023 DMC championships in San Francisco. \u003ccite>(Jeff Straw)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>How\u003c/em> the Piklz scratched also made a difference. According to crew member D-Styles, prior to the Piklz, “a lot of the scratch styles were straight ahead. It was very on the beat. ” He likens the Piklz’ approach to Bird and Dizzy’s excursions in the bebop era – “being ahead of the beat, or behind the beat, being more free with it, not so (much) in the line.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>While there were other DJ crews before the Piklz, Swift says, the idea of a turntable orchestra was uncharted territory. “One guy would take a horn hit, another guy would take drums, the other guy would take vocals. Nobody was doing that before the Piklz.” This became a common practice, and led to the introduction of team routines in major battles. Qbert remarks that he and the other Piklz have been doing synchronized routines for so long, the communication between them has become telepathic. “It’s just kind of like walking in step.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952269\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1759px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Qbert_.buckethead.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1759\" height=\"1173\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952269\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Qbert_.buckethead.jpg 1759w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Qbert_.buckethead-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Qbert_.buckethead-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Qbert_.buckethead-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Qbert_.buckethead-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Qbert_.buckethead-1536x1024.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1759px) 100vw, 1759px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Qbert onstage with guitarist Buckethead at the Jazznojazz Festival in Zurich, 1995. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Alex Aquino)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Another advancement was the first all-scratching record, i.e. a musical composition consisting entirely of scratched sounds. The scratch music trend resulted in a slew of solo releases — many of them on the now-defunct Bomb Hip Hop label – as well as group albums from the X-Ecutioners, The Allies, and Birdy Nam Nam, and one-offs like El Stew, an alternative supergroup featuring guitarist Buckethead, ISP alumni DJ Disk and producer Eddie Def. After turntablism’s initial wave died down in the early 2000s, the Piklz continued to develop the genre, which Shortkut says has become its own culture.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“It’s a niche market,” Qbert says. “But I’m totally immersed in it.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952275\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1920px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952275\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/IMG_2459.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1920\" height=\"1440\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/IMG_2459.jpg 1920w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/IMG_2459-800x600.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/IMG_2459-1020x765.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/IMG_2459-160x120.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/IMG_2459-768x576.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/IMG_2459-1536x1152.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1920px) 100vw, 1920px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Invisibl Skratch Piklz at a Red Bull event. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Shortkut)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003ch2>‘It’s Just Some Human Shit, and It’s a Beautiful Thing’\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>On his solo albums, Qbert has frequently explored sci-fi themes, beginning with 1998’s \u003cem>Wave Twisters\u003c/em>, and continuing with 2014’s \u003cem>Extraterrestria\u003c/em> and \u003cem>Galaxxxian\u003c/em>, 2020’s \u003cem>Origins (Wave Twisters 0)\u003c/em>, and 2022’s \u003cem>Next Cosmos\u003c/em>. He’s imagined what scratch music from across the galaxy might sound like, evoking starships navigating irradiated asteroid belts, alien creatures scurrying across cratered landscapes, and underwater temples emanating immemorial chants over percussive beats, while turning Rakim and Too Short phrases into Zen mantras. He’s done all this by embracing the musical possibilities of the turntable.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“On what other equipment could you make the sounds go backwards and forwards and just do all these weird things with it? You know, with your hands,” he says. Unlike pressing buttons on a computer, “this is like fucking connected to your soul. It’s not like AI can do it. It’s just some human shit, and it’s a beautiful thing.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Mix Master Mike served as the official DJ for the Beastie Boys from 1998 up until 2012, later joined Cypress Hill, and has toured with arena rock giants Metallica, Guns ‘N’ Roses, and Godsmack, playing to crowds of up to 50,000. His solo catalog has expanded the turntablism field into new arenas – literally. “I’ve always targeted the rock audience,” Mike says. “I’m not just hip-hop. I’m everything around it. The greatness is having to conquer uncharted territories.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“I like to remain mysterious in that sense as far as being a mysterious artist and being unpredictable. I’m the risk taker, right? It’s therapeutic for me at this point, but it’s like I’m just taking it as a mission because nobody’s doing this.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952267\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1759px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952267\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.MMMonthedecks.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1759\" height=\"1196\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.MMMonthedecks.jpg 1759w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.MMMonthedecks-800x544.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.MMMonthedecks-1020x694.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.MMMonthedecks-160x109.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.MMMonthedecks-768x522.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.MMMonthedecks-1536x1044.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1759px) 100vw, 1759px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Mix Master Mike. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Alex Aquino)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>This philosophy extends from live shows to recordings. “Growing up, I was always listening to soundtrack music. Lalo Schifrin, Quincy Jones, Ennio Morricone.” His goal in making records is to capture a cinematic sense, to make “a soundtrack that can live forever.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>His newest release, 2023’s \u003cem>Opus X Magnum\u003c/em>, is a headphone album with arena sensibilities. Or vice-versa. There’s lots of subtle instrumental and sound effect-y passages, along with chest-pumping drums and serpentine basslines. The quieter moments are few, but precious. MMM’s Pikl heritage is evident in the way horns, keyboards and vocal phrases are scratched vicariously, resulting in twisty turns that keep your ears guessing what’s next. To the artist’s credit, \u003cem>Opus\u003c/em> does sound epically cinematic throughout, its constantly changing moods and textures suggesting perpetual motion and a full dose of adrenaline.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>D-Styles’ two solo albums, released 17 years apart, illustrate his artistic growth. 2002’s \u003cem>Phantazmagorea\u003c/em> delves into dark themes, with vocal phrases seemingly selected for shock value, along with recognizable scratched snippets from KRS-One and Stetsasonic. 2019’s \u003cem>Noises In the Right Order\u003c/em> – inspired by a residency at Low End Theory, a club night frequented by lo-fi producers – recalls DJ Shadow’s \u003cem>Endtroducing\u003c/em> and the trip-hop era, while still using found vocals as documentary. D-Styles says \u003cem>Noises\u003c/em> was about being “more musical and less technical.” There’s plenty of scratching, but the emphasis is on overall composition.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952271\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 597px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952271\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-at-HEIRO-DAY-2016.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"597\" height=\"506\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-at-HEIRO-DAY-2016.jpg 597w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-at-HEIRO-DAY-2016-160x136.jpg 160w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 597px) 100vw, 597px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Invisibl Skratch Piklz at Hiero Day 2016 in Oakland. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Shortkut)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Being a turntable composer, D-Styles maintains, means using scratching’s vocabulary as a musical language. “You look at it like an alphabet. You got chirps, you got flares, you got crabs, you got autobahns, you got Stewie’s, and all of that stuff. You can add swing to it, you could be ahead of the beat. Behind the beat. You can accent. There’s so much that goes into putting these combinations together.”\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>Many Styles\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>Apollo and Shortkut, meanwhile, joined forces with former ITF World Champion Vin Roc in 1999 to form Triple Threat, a DJ crew whose mission was to integrate turntablism into party-rocking live sets. “Just coming up as turntablists, we kind of like, created little monsters everywhere,” Apollo says. “All they would do is scratch in their bedrooms.” There’s more to DJing, he says, than just doing tricks and scratching and juggling.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Triple Threat released a well-received 2003 album, \u003cem>Many Styles\u003c/em>, which blended turntablist-oriented tracks with emcee features from Planet Asia, Black Thought, Souls of Mischief and Zion-I. The trio toured the United States and Asia regularly, and remained active up until the late 2010s. Apollo – who judged the DMC World Finals last year – still identifies as a Pikl, and says his focus nowadays is on upgrading his studio and reestablishing himself as a producer; he hopes to contribute some tracks to future ISP albums.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952276\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1440px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/LLCoolJ.Ztrip_.shortkut.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1440\" height=\"1920\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952276\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/LLCoolJ.Ztrip_.shortkut.jpg 1440w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/LLCoolJ.Ztrip_.shortkut-800x1067.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/LLCoolJ.Ztrip_.shortkut-1020x1360.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/LLCoolJ.Ztrip_.shortkut-160x213.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/LLCoolJ.Ztrip_.shortkut-768x1024.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/LLCoolJ.Ztrip_.shortkut-1152x1536.jpg 1152w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1440px) 100vw, 1440px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Shortkut, at right, on the F.O.R.C.E. Tour with (L–R) DJ Z-Trip, LL Cool J and DJ Jazzy Jeff. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Shortkut)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Shortkut’s recorded output mainly consists of DJ mixtapes covering a wide variety of genres, but he did produce 2012’s “Twelve,” a funky, fun track with “Sesame Street”-esque vocal samples, for the Beat Junkies 45 Series, as well as 2017’s “Mini-Wheels,” a 7-inch single for Thud Rumble, and “Short Rugs,” a limited-edition slipmat designed for 45 rpm records and a 7-inch record with three skipless vinyl scratch tracks. He’s been an occasional headliner at DJ Platurn’s 45 Sessions party; playing all-vinyl sets, he says, helps him maintain his sanity.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>After a lengthy break following 2000’s “final” performance, Qbert, Shortkut and D-Styles officially reformed as ISP for 2015’s \u003cem>The 13th Floor\u003c/em>, their first full-length release. “This was the first time as a scratch artist that I’ve felt able to do shows with the Piklz where people know the songs,” Shortkut says. The album’s moods range from dark to soulful to jazzy, and were intended to be templates for live performances that typically involve improvised scratch soloing over a structured song with defined instrumental parts.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952273\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1500px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952273\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-making-of-The-13th-Floor-album-Japan-2015.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1500\" height=\"1000\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-making-of-The-13th-Floor-album-Japan-2015.jpg 1500w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-making-of-The-13th-Floor-album-Japan-2015-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-making-of-The-13th-Floor-album-Japan-2015-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-making-of-The-13th-Floor-album-Japan-2015-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-making-of-The-13th-Floor-album-Japan-2015-768x512.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1500px) 100vw, 1500px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">The Invisibl Skratch Piklz in Japan, making their ’13th Floor’ album in 2015. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Shortkut)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Many of \u003cem>The 13th Floor\u003c/em>’s compositional elements were developed by D-Styles, who went on to become an online instructor at the Beat Junkies Institute of Sound in 2019. He notes the Piklz are more than halfway through their next, as-yet-untitled album — several tracks from which they previewed live during their recent DMC showcase in San Francisco.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“My strength is, I’m always in the studio,” says D-Styles. “I always have these ideas, these sketches that I’ll try at home by myself. But I always have parts in mind, so if i have drums, I’ll be like, this is perfect for Shortkut. And then I have these keyboards, you know, these notes. So I’ll carry that side. And then I’ll give Q this (vocal) phrase. And I know he’ll know what to do with it.”\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>Aesthetics That ‘Vibrate a Certain Way’\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>Qbert maintains he’s still a student, trying to learn new things after all these years. He keeps pushing himself to new levels because he doesn’t want to repeat what he’s already done. “You got to come unique and original, or else it’s like, fucking wack. Or it’s, \u003cem>ah… he did the same shit last time\u003c/em>, you know? I don’t want to hear that.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952294\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1811px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Qbert_.LPs_.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1811\" height=\"600\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952294\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Qbert_.LPs_.jpg 1811w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Qbert_.LPs_-800x265.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Qbert_.LPs_-1020x338.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Qbert_.LPs_-160x53.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Qbert_.LPs_-768x254.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Qbert_.LPs_-1536x509.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1811px) 100vw, 1811px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">A sample of Qbert’s visual aesthetic from three full-length albums: ‘Extraterrestria,’ ‘Origins Wave Twisters 0,’ and ‘Next Cosmos in 5D.’\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>The most sublime aspect of the Piklz legacy may be their aesthetic, best described as part kung-fu, part sci-fi, part zany humor, yet firmly grounded in DJ culture and hip-hop expression. This is reflected in Mike and Q’s outsize personalities. “Those two in particular are very much outside of this Earth,” says Christie Z, noting that Mike’s custom Serato vinyl is covered in Zectarian language. (In 2017, Qbert joined Mike for a duo performance of MMM’s alienesque single “Channel Zecktar” live at the NAMM showcase.) Artists are sometimes kooky, she says, but she’s used to it by now. “That’s what they do.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Unsurprisingly, perhaps, Mike sees himself as a glowing, ultramagnetic, cosmic antenna. “I would say, you know, my brain is like a super cerebral satellite dish that I’m just logging into the channels in my mind, and I call it the access to the interstellar network, my own interstellar network that’s going on in my head.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>As for Qbert, “nowadays I work off of karma,” he says. Though he’s consulted for audio companies before, when he’s asked for input, he doesn’t insist on contractual agreements. “I’ll give you the honest truth.” If a mixer could be sleeker and more ergonomic, he’ll say so. He feels equipment makers could be more visionary and futuristic with their products. “They could put chromatherapy in these things, you know, they vibrate a certain way to make it heal you as a human.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>For all of Qbert’s zany sense of humor and embracing of otherworldliness, he’s remarkably down to earth at times. That is to say, his ideology isn’t illogical at all – just advanced.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“With any art, if you’re deep into it, you’re already touching infinity,” he says. “So you could do so many things in it that you haven’t done. And there’s freakin’ a bag of infinity left — that is never-ending.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad floatright]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter size-full wp-image-11687704\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/06/Turntable.Break_.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"60\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/06/Turntable.Break_.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/06/Turntable.Break_-400x30.jpg 400w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/06/Turntable.Break_-768x58.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003c/p>\n\n","stats":{"hasVideo":false,"hasChartOrMap":false,"hasAudio":false,"hasPolis":false,"wordCount":3685,"hasGoogleForm":false,"hasGallery":false,"hasHearkenModule":false,"iframeSrcs":[],"paragraphCount":46},"modified":1708071864,"excerpt":"The Skratch Piklz' innovations in scratch technique, education and battle tools have impacted the globe. ","headData":{"twImgId":"","twTitle":"","ogTitle":"","ogImgId":"","twDescription":"","description":"The Skratch Piklz' innovations in scratch technique, education and battle tools have impacted the globe. ","title":"Turntablism’s Mightiest Heroes: The Legacy, Impact and Aesthetics of the Invisibl Skratch Piklz | KQED","ogDescription":"","schema":{"@context":"http://schema.org","@type":"Article","headline":"Turntablism’s Mightiest Heroes: The Legacy, Impact and Aesthetics of the Invisibl Skratch Piklz","datePublished":"2024-02-14T08:53:51-08:00","dateModified":"2024-02-16T00:24:24-08:00","image":"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/02/KQED-OG-Image@1x.png"}},"guestAuthors":[],"slug":"turntablism-invisibl-skratch-piklz-legacy-impact","status":"publish","sourceUrl":"https://www.kqed.org/bayareahiphop","templateType":"standard","excludeFromSiteSearch":"Include","featuredImageType":"standard","sticky":false,"source":"That's My Word","articleAge":"0","path":"/arts/13952260/turntablism-invisibl-skratch-piklz-legacy-impact","audioTrackLength":null,"parsedContent":[{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952272\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1080px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952272\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-backstage-in-SF-2017.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1080\" height=\"1080\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-backstage-in-SF-2017.jpg 1080w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-backstage-in-SF-2017-800x800.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-backstage-in-SF-2017-1020x1020.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-backstage-in-SF-2017-160x160.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-backstage-in-SF-2017-768x768.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1080px) 100vw, 1080px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">The Invisibl Skratch Piklz’ cultural impact over the past 40 years has been felt around the globe. The crew is pictured here backstage in San Francisco in 2017. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Shortkut)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>\u003cstrong>Editor’s note\u003c/strong>: This story is part of \u003c/em>\u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/bayareahiphop/\">That’s My Word\u003c/a>\u003cem>, KQED’s story series on \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/bayareahiphop/\">Bay Area hip-hop\u003c/a> history.\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>On an overcast November day in Oakland, DJ Shortkut – a member of the Invisibl Skratch Piklz DJ crew – was the featured performer on a boat cruise, as part of the DMC World DJ Finals festivities. The weather didn’t get too rough during the two-hour tour, which meandered out to the Bay Bridge and back to port at Jack London Square. The worst was some mildly choppy squalls into fierce headwinds. Because this wasn’t your average boat cruise – its attendees mainly consisted of DJs from all over the world in town for the DMC battle – the ship’s crew circled around Treasure Island for a bit, instead of heading further out into the open sea.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The calmer waters allowed Shortkut, who had been playing a vibrant set of mostly classic midtempo hip-hop, to show off his mixing and scratching skills a bit. As the boat headed back toward its East Bay dock, Shortkut unleashed an impressive display of scratching skills that lasted for a good five minutes. As the boat neared its mooring, the DJ called his peers to the turntables. What followed was an unforgettable, and super-fun, display of global turntablism at its best, as each DJ in succession laid down a wicked scratch segment.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13937761\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13937761\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-DMCBattle-22-BL-KQED.jpg\" alt=\"A person with a shaved head stands at a table as a screen behind them shows the images of several people.\" width=\"2000\" height=\"1333\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-DMCBattle-22-BL-KQED.jpg 2000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-DMCBattle-22-BL-KQED-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-DMCBattle-22-BL-KQED-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-DMCBattle-22-BL-KQED-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-DMCBattle-22-BL-KQED-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-DMCBattle-22-BL-KQED-1536x1024.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-DMCBattle-22-BL-KQED-1920x1280.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2000px) 100vw, 2000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Shortkut performs with Invisibl Skratch Piklz during the DMC World DJ Finals at The Midway in San Francisco, Calif., on Nov. 3, 2023. \u003ccite>(Beth LaBerge/KQED)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>It seemed appropriate for Shortkut to be leading the activities. Once a battle entrant in the DMCs himself and understudy to fellow Piklz Qbert, Apollo, and Mix Master Mike, Shortkut has become an accomplished master in his own right – most recently playing an opening set on LL Cool J’s star-studded Hip Hop 50 tour. The message to the younger DJs on the boat was clear: keep developing your skills and be a balanced DJ who can rise to any occasion – scratching and beat-juggling skills are nice, but rocking a party with impeccable selection while displaying your skills is even better.\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>Perfecting – and Teaching – the Art\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>The Piklz first rose to prominence during the ’90s, winning multiple world DJ battle titles as a crew and individually while displaying innovative new techniques that elevated turntablism to unprecedented heights. After revolutionizing the artform and birthing scratch music as a genre, by the decade’s end, they had left an indelible mark on DJ culture and furthered its global reach.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952265\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1759px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952265\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan_.decks_.93.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1759\" height=\"1196\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan_.decks_.93.jpg 1759w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan_.decks_.93-800x544.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan_.decks_.93-1020x694.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan_.decks_.93-160x109.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan_.decks_.93-768x522.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan_.decks_.93-1536x1044.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1759px) 100vw, 1759px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">The Invisibl Skratch Piklz in Japan in 1993. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Alex Aquino)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Christie Zee, the organizer for 2023’s DMC World Battle, held in San Francisco, has worked off and on for the London-based organization since 1998. She first became aware of the Piklz from an old boyfriend’s copy of DJ Qbert’s \u003cem>Demolition Pumpkin Squeeze Musik\u003c/em> mixtape – “It just had so much scratching and it was so fun,” she says. She recalls meeting the crew for the first time in 1999, at the DMC World Finals.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"","name":"ad","attributes":{"named":{"label":"fullwidth"},"numeric":["fullwidth"]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“I’m really delicate, really careful about (saying) \u003cem>pioneer\u003c/em> versus \u003cem>legend\u003c/em>, but I do think they were pioneering, because of things they’ve innovated and presented and invented,” she says. “They didn’t invent the scratch, but they just progressed the hell out of it.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“Obviously they have titles under their belts,” says Rob Swift, a founding member of the X-Men/X-Ecutioners, the New York turntablists who famously battled the Piklz in 1996. “But for me, I would say their most pivotal contribution to DJing is teaching the art. Before the Invisibl Skratch Piklz, nobody was teaching. DJing was a secret art.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952266\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1759px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952266\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan2_.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1759\" height=\"1192\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan2_.jpg 1759w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan2_-800x542.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan2_-1020x691.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan2_-160x108.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan2_-768x520.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan2_-1536x1041.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1759px) 100vw, 1759px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Invisibl Skratch Piklz with Japanese fans, 1993. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Alex Aquino)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Swift – who’s been teaching a DJ course at the New School for Liberal Arts in New York since 2014 – speaks from experience. Within months of Qbert developing the crab scratch, Swift was using the technique in battles. He cites the instructional \u003cem>Turntable TV\u003c/em> series of video tutorials as not only an inspiration for the X-Men, but also for other DJs and even corporate entities. As a result, more people started DJing and the culture grew.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“Before the Piklz, all of us had our own personal terminology for DJing. But the Piklz started (creating) terms that globally started to become accepted and become the consensus terms… Q started giving individual techniques specific names. In doing so, it made the art teachable, because you can’t teach someone by saying, yo, make it go \u003cem>wigga wigga wigga wigga\u003c/em>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“Now these guys are selling videos to kids in Japan, kids in Canada, kids across the country, kids in Europe that had no clue how to do this shit… Myself, (Roc) Raida, Mista Sinista, (Total) Eclipse, we were inspired by Q, and we started teaching how to juggle, and we made videotapes just like them.” Without the Picklz, he says, there wouldn’t be “the ripple effects of what we see now, of all these DJ schools, all of these people teaching on YouTube, all these online tutorials, all these companies designing gear with all these effects.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952270\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1759px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952270\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Japan_.vestax.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1759\" height=\"1156\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Japan_.vestax.jpg 1759w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Japan_.vestax-800x526.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Japan_.vestax-1020x670.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Japan_.vestax-160x105.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Japan_.vestax-768x505.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Japan_.vestax-1536x1009.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1759px) 100vw, 1759px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Invisibl Skratch Piklz at Vestax headquarters in Tokyo, Japan, to preview their signature mixer. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Alex Aquino)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003ch2>Signature Models and Scratch Technique\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>The Piklz also served as consultants to audio companies like Vestax and Ortofon to develop ISP-branded mixers and needles; more recently, Shortkut served as a brand ambassador for Serato’s vinyl emulation software. In a 2022 video tutorial for \u003cem>Wired\u003c/em>, the master turntablist demonstrates 15 levels of scratching, from the basic “baby scratch” to complex combos, rhythm and drum scratches, and the beat-juggle.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>According to Shortkut, beat-juggling is “live manual remixing, basically, with two turntables and a mixer” utilizing two copies of the same record, or two different records. When done properly, the technique creates an entirely new beat using existing sounds.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Mix Master Mike estimates that he and Qbert have named hundreds of specific scratches. Among his original contributions is the “Tweaker,” which was developed accidentally, due to a power outage. “When you cut a turntable off, the sound still comes out of it” when the needle is left on the record. “You got to manually move the belt with your hand, which (makes) a totally way-out, dragging sound from the record.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952268\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1759px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.3fromsideshortkut.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1759\" height=\"1186\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952268\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.3fromsideshortkut.jpg 1759w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.3fromsideshortkut-800x539.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.3fromsideshortkut-1020x688.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.3fromsideshortkut-160x108.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.3fromsideshortkut-768x518.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.3fromsideshortkut-1536x1036.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1759px) 100vw, 1759px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Invisibl Skratch Piklz, mid-routine in Seattle, 1994. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Alex Aquino)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>In live shows, Mike deploys an arsenal of sound banks with trees of various audio samples for different instruments. He often improvises his sets – rarely playing the same scratch solo twice. With all the scratches he’s invented, “If I’m performing live, it’s all about if I can remember it on the spot.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Qbert’s most ubiquitous scratch may be the crab, which uses the crossfader to chop the audio signal, similar to the transformer scratch. Unlike the transformer – performed with just thumb and forefinger – the crab utilizes a rapid tapping motion with the other three fingers, resulting in finer chops, like a triplet of 1/16th notes instead of quarter-notes. The crab can then be combined with other techniques like the stab, the tear, or the orbit to create an infinite number of scratch patterns.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Q says the crab has nothing to do with crustaceans, actually. It was originally called the crepe, based off a food order he’d made in Lebanon. Except no one could pronounce the rolled r’s of a Lebanese accent correctly. Among the other scratches he’s named personally, “there’s like the hydro, the laser, the phaser, the swipe, oh man, let’s see, there’s the clover tear, the prism scratch. … there’s so many.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952274\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 749px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952274\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/1996-Vestax-ISP-ad.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"749\" height=\"960\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/1996-Vestax-ISP-ad.jpg 749w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/1996-Vestax-ISP-ad-160x205.jpg 160w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 749px) 100vw, 749px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">A Vestax advertisement for the Invisibl Skratch Piklz’ signature mixer. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Shortkut)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003ch2>100mph Backsliding Turkey Kuts\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>The Piklz began developing tools for DJs with the original \u003cem>Battle Breaks\u003c/em> vinyl record, which resampled various sound effects and verbal phrases, making them more scratch-friendly and accessible. Their imprint Dirt Style has released dozens of such records over the decades with names like \u003cem>Bionic Booger Breaks\u003c/em>, \u003cem>Buttcrack Breaks\u003c/em>, or \u003cem>Scratch Fetishes of the Third Kind\u003c/em>. These records are sometimes credited to DJ Qbert, DJ Flare or Mix Master Mike, and sometimes credited to aliases like the Psychedelic Scratch Bastards, The Wax Fondler and Darth Fader.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>Battle Breaks\u003c/em> led to another innovation: the \u003cem>Scratchy Seal\u003c/em> series of skipless records. As Qbert explains, there’s a science behind this. “If you look at the turntable, it spins at 33 ⅓ — 33.33333 (revolutions) per minute. If you just make the BPM of the sound effect 33-point-dee dee dee dee dee dee dee dee dee dee, the magic number, it’s all going to be repetitive. No matter where the needle jumps, it’s going to land on the same sound again.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952264\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1920px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952264\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/AAA_Q_MMM_best_PhotobyJeffStrawBranding-2000.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1920\" height=\"1280\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/AAA_Q_MMM_best_PhotobyJeffStrawBranding-2000.jpg 1920w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/AAA_Q_MMM_best_PhotobyJeffStrawBranding-2000-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/AAA_Q_MMM_best_PhotobyJeffStrawBranding-2000-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/AAA_Q_MMM_best_PhotobyJeffStrawBranding-2000-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/AAA_Q_MMM_best_PhotobyJeffStrawBranding-2000-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/AAA_Q_MMM_best_PhotobyJeffStrawBranding-2000-1536x1024.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1920px) 100vw, 1920px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Qbert and Mix Master Mike backstage at the 2023 DMC championships in San Francisco. \u003ccite>(Jeff Straw)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>How\u003c/em> the Piklz scratched also made a difference. According to crew member D-Styles, prior to the Piklz, “a lot of the scratch styles were straight ahead. It was very on the beat. ” He likens the Piklz’ approach to Bird and Dizzy’s excursions in the bebop era – “being ahead of the beat, or behind the beat, being more free with it, not so (much) in the line.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>While there were other DJ crews before the Piklz, Swift says, the idea of a turntable orchestra was uncharted territory. “One guy would take a horn hit, another guy would take drums, the other guy would take vocals. Nobody was doing that before the Piklz.” This became a common practice, and led to the introduction of team routines in major battles. Qbert remarks that he and the other Piklz have been doing synchronized routines for so long, the communication between them has become telepathic. “It’s just kind of like walking in step.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952269\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1759px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Qbert_.buckethead.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1759\" height=\"1173\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952269\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Qbert_.buckethead.jpg 1759w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Qbert_.buckethead-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Qbert_.buckethead-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Qbert_.buckethead-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Qbert_.buckethead-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Qbert_.buckethead-1536x1024.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1759px) 100vw, 1759px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Qbert onstage with guitarist Buckethead at the Jazznojazz Festival in Zurich, 1995. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Alex Aquino)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Another advancement was the first all-scratching record, i.e. a musical composition consisting entirely of scratched sounds. The scratch music trend resulted in a slew of solo releases — many of them on the now-defunct Bomb Hip Hop label – as well as group albums from the X-Ecutioners, The Allies, and Birdy Nam Nam, and one-offs like El Stew, an alternative supergroup featuring guitarist Buckethead, ISP alumni DJ Disk and producer Eddie Def. After turntablism’s initial wave died down in the early 2000s, the Piklz continued to develop the genre, which Shortkut says has become its own culture.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“It’s a niche market,” Qbert says. “But I’m totally immersed in it.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952275\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1920px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952275\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/IMG_2459.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1920\" height=\"1440\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/IMG_2459.jpg 1920w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/IMG_2459-800x600.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/IMG_2459-1020x765.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/IMG_2459-160x120.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/IMG_2459-768x576.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/IMG_2459-1536x1152.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1920px) 100vw, 1920px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Invisibl Skratch Piklz at a Red Bull event. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Shortkut)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003ch2>‘It’s Just Some Human Shit, and It’s a Beautiful Thing’\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>On his solo albums, Qbert has frequently explored sci-fi themes, beginning with 1998’s \u003cem>Wave Twisters\u003c/em>, and continuing with 2014’s \u003cem>Extraterrestria\u003c/em> and \u003cem>Galaxxxian\u003c/em>, 2020’s \u003cem>Origins (Wave Twisters 0)\u003c/em>, and 2022’s \u003cem>Next Cosmos\u003c/em>. He’s imagined what scratch music from across the galaxy might sound like, evoking starships navigating irradiated asteroid belts, alien creatures scurrying across cratered landscapes, and underwater temples emanating immemorial chants over percussive beats, while turning Rakim and Too Short phrases into Zen mantras. He’s done all this by embracing the musical possibilities of the turntable.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“On what other equipment could you make the sounds go backwards and forwards and just do all these weird things with it? You know, with your hands,” he says. Unlike pressing buttons on a computer, “this is like fucking connected to your soul. It’s not like AI can do it. It’s just some human shit, and it’s a beautiful thing.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Mix Master Mike served as the official DJ for the Beastie Boys from 1998 up until 2012, later joined Cypress Hill, and has toured with arena rock giants Metallica, Guns ‘N’ Roses, and Godsmack, playing to crowds of up to 50,000. His solo catalog has expanded the turntablism field into new arenas – literally. “I’ve always targeted the rock audience,” Mike says. “I’m not just hip-hop. I’m everything around it. The greatness is having to conquer uncharted territories.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“I like to remain mysterious in that sense as far as being a mysterious artist and being unpredictable. I’m the risk taker, right? It’s therapeutic for me at this point, but it’s like I’m just taking it as a mission because nobody’s doing this.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952267\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1759px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952267\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.MMMonthedecks.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1759\" height=\"1196\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.MMMonthedecks.jpg 1759w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.MMMonthedecks-800x544.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.MMMonthedecks-1020x694.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.MMMonthedecks-160x109.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.MMMonthedecks-768x522.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.MMMonthedecks-1536x1044.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1759px) 100vw, 1759px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Mix Master Mike. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Alex Aquino)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>This philosophy extends from live shows to recordings. “Growing up, I was always listening to soundtrack music. Lalo Schifrin, Quincy Jones, Ennio Morricone.” His goal in making records is to capture a cinematic sense, to make “a soundtrack that can live forever.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>His newest release, 2023’s \u003cem>Opus X Magnum\u003c/em>, is a headphone album with arena sensibilities. Or vice-versa. There’s lots of subtle instrumental and sound effect-y passages, along with chest-pumping drums and serpentine basslines. The quieter moments are few, but precious. MMM’s Pikl heritage is evident in the way horns, keyboards and vocal phrases are scratched vicariously, resulting in twisty turns that keep your ears guessing what’s next. To the artist’s credit, \u003cem>Opus\u003c/em> does sound epically cinematic throughout, its constantly changing moods and textures suggesting perpetual motion and a full dose of adrenaline.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>D-Styles’ two solo albums, released 17 years apart, illustrate his artistic growth. 2002’s \u003cem>Phantazmagorea\u003c/em> delves into dark themes, with vocal phrases seemingly selected for shock value, along with recognizable scratched snippets from KRS-One and Stetsasonic. 2019’s \u003cem>Noises In the Right Order\u003c/em> – inspired by a residency at Low End Theory, a club night frequented by lo-fi producers – recalls DJ Shadow’s \u003cem>Endtroducing\u003c/em> and the trip-hop era, while still using found vocals as documentary. D-Styles says \u003cem>Noises\u003c/em> was about being “more musical and less technical.” There’s plenty of scratching, but the emphasis is on overall composition.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952271\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 597px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952271\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-at-HEIRO-DAY-2016.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"597\" height=\"506\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-at-HEIRO-DAY-2016.jpg 597w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-at-HEIRO-DAY-2016-160x136.jpg 160w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 597px) 100vw, 597px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Invisibl Skratch Piklz at Hiero Day 2016 in Oakland. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Shortkut)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Being a turntable composer, D-Styles maintains, means using scratching’s vocabulary as a musical language. “You look at it like an alphabet. You got chirps, you got flares, you got crabs, you got autobahns, you got Stewie’s, and all of that stuff. You can add swing to it, you could be ahead of the beat. Behind the beat. You can accent. There’s so much that goes into putting these combinations together.”\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>Many Styles\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>Apollo and Shortkut, meanwhile, joined forces with former ITF World Champion Vin Roc in 1999 to form Triple Threat, a DJ crew whose mission was to integrate turntablism into party-rocking live sets. “Just coming up as turntablists, we kind of like, created little monsters everywhere,” Apollo says. “All they would do is scratch in their bedrooms.” There’s more to DJing, he says, than just doing tricks and scratching and juggling.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Triple Threat released a well-received 2003 album, \u003cem>Many Styles\u003c/em>, which blended turntablist-oriented tracks with emcee features from Planet Asia, Black Thought, Souls of Mischief and Zion-I. The trio toured the United States and Asia regularly, and remained active up until the late 2010s. Apollo – who judged the DMC World Finals last year – still identifies as a Pikl, and says his focus nowadays is on upgrading his studio and reestablishing himself as a producer; he hopes to contribute some tracks to future ISP albums.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952276\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1440px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/LLCoolJ.Ztrip_.shortkut.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1440\" height=\"1920\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952276\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/LLCoolJ.Ztrip_.shortkut.jpg 1440w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/LLCoolJ.Ztrip_.shortkut-800x1067.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/LLCoolJ.Ztrip_.shortkut-1020x1360.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/LLCoolJ.Ztrip_.shortkut-160x213.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/LLCoolJ.Ztrip_.shortkut-768x1024.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/LLCoolJ.Ztrip_.shortkut-1152x1536.jpg 1152w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1440px) 100vw, 1440px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Shortkut, at right, on the F.O.R.C.E. Tour with (L–R) DJ Z-Trip, LL Cool J and DJ Jazzy Jeff. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Shortkut)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Shortkut’s recorded output mainly consists of DJ mixtapes covering a wide variety of genres, but he did produce 2012’s “Twelve,” a funky, fun track with “Sesame Street”-esque vocal samples, for the Beat Junkies 45 Series, as well as 2017’s “Mini-Wheels,” a 7-inch single for Thud Rumble, and “Short Rugs,” a limited-edition slipmat designed for 45 rpm records and a 7-inch record with three skipless vinyl scratch tracks. He’s been an occasional headliner at DJ Platurn’s 45 Sessions party; playing all-vinyl sets, he says, helps him maintain his sanity.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>After a lengthy break following 2000’s “final” performance, Qbert, Shortkut and D-Styles officially reformed as ISP for 2015’s \u003cem>The 13th Floor\u003c/em>, their first full-length release. “This was the first time as a scratch artist that I’ve felt able to do shows with the Piklz where people know the songs,” Shortkut says. The album’s moods range from dark to soulful to jazzy, and were intended to be templates for live performances that typically involve improvised scratch soloing over a structured song with defined instrumental parts.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952273\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1500px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952273\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-making-of-The-13th-Floor-album-Japan-2015.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1500\" height=\"1000\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-making-of-The-13th-Floor-album-Japan-2015.jpg 1500w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-making-of-The-13th-Floor-album-Japan-2015-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-making-of-The-13th-Floor-album-Japan-2015-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-making-of-The-13th-Floor-album-Japan-2015-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-making-of-The-13th-Floor-album-Japan-2015-768x512.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1500px) 100vw, 1500px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">The Invisibl Skratch Piklz in Japan, making their ’13th Floor’ album in 2015. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Shortkut)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Many of \u003cem>The 13th Floor\u003c/em>’s compositional elements were developed by D-Styles, who went on to become an online instructor at the Beat Junkies Institute of Sound in 2019. He notes the Piklz are more than halfway through their next, as-yet-untitled album — several tracks from which they previewed live during their recent DMC showcase in San Francisco.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“My strength is, I’m always in the studio,” says D-Styles. “I always have these ideas, these sketches that I’ll try at home by myself. But I always have parts in mind, so if i have drums, I’ll be like, this is perfect for Shortkut. And then I have these keyboards, you know, these notes. So I’ll carry that side. And then I’ll give Q this (vocal) phrase. And I know he’ll know what to do with it.”\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>Aesthetics That ‘Vibrate a Certain Way’\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>Qbert maintains he’s still a student, trying to learn new things after all these years. He keeps pushing himself to new levels because he doesn’t want to repeat what he’s already done. “You got to come unique and original, or else it’s like, fucking wack. Or it’s, \u003cem>ah… he did the same shit last time\u003c/em>, you know? I don’t want to hear that.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952294\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1811px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Qbert_.LPs_.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1811\" height=\"600\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952294\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Qbert_.LPs_.jpg 1811w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Qbert_.LPs_-800x265.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Qbert_.LPs_-1020x338.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Qbert_.LPs_-160x53.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Qbert_.LPs_-768x254.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Qbert_.LPs_-1536x509.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1811px) 100vw, 1811px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">A sample of Qbert’s visual aesthetic from three full-length albums: ‘Extraterrestria,’ ‘Origins Wave Twisters 0,’ and ‘Next Cosmos in 5D.’\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>The most sublime aspect of the Piklz legacy may be their aesthetic, best described as part kung-fu, part sci-fi, part zany humor, yet firmly grounded in DJ culture and hip-hop expression. This is reflected in Mike and Q’s outsize personalities. “Those two in particular are very much outside of this Earth,” says Christie Z, noting that Mike’s custom Serato vinyl is covered in Zectarian language. (In 2017, Qbert joined Mike for a duo performance of MMM’s alienesque single “Channel Zecktar” live at the NAMM showcase.) Artists are sometimes kooky, she says, but she’s used to it by now. “That’s what they do.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Unsurprisingly, perhaps, Mike sees himself as a glowing, ultramagnetic, cosmic antenna. “I would say, you know, my brain is like a super cerebral satellite dish that I’m just logging into the channels in my mind, and I call it the access to the interstellar network, my own interstellar network that’s going on in my head.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>As for Qbert, “nowadays I work off of karma,” he says. Though he’s consulted for audio companies before, when he’s asked for input, he doesn’t insist on contractual agreements. “I’ll give you the honest truth.” If a mixer could be sleeker and more ergonomic, he’ll say so. He feels equipment makers could be more visionary and futuristic with their products. “They could put chromatherapy in these things, you know, they vibrate a certain way to make it heal you as a human.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>For all of Qbert’s zany sense of humor and embracing of otherworldliness, he’s remarkably down to earth at times. That is to say, his ideology isn’t illogical at all – just advanced.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“With any art, if you’re deep into it, you’re already touching infinity,” he says. “So you could do so many things in it that you haven’t done. And there’s freakin’ a bag of infinity left — that is never-ending.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"","name":"ad","attributes":{"named":{"label":"floatright"},"numeric":["floatright"]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter size-full wp-image-11687704\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/06/Turntable.Break_.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"60\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/06/Turntable.Break_.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/06/Turntable.Break_-400x30.jpg 400w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/06/Turntable.Break_-768x58.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003c/p>\n\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}}],"link":"/arts/13952260/turntablism-invisibl-skratch-piklz-legacy-impact","authors":["11839"],"categories":["arts_1","arts_69"],"tags":["arts_2854","arts_21712","arts_2852","arts_17218","arts_21940","arts_1146","arts_19347","arts_21711"],"featImg":"arts_13952262","label":"source_arts_13952260"},"arts_13952208":{"type":"posts","id":"arts_13952208","meta":{"index":"posts_1716263798","site":"arts","id":"13952208","score":null,"sort":[1707929580000]},"parent":0,"labelTerm":{"site":"arts"},"blocks":[],"publishDate":1707929580,"format":"standard","title":"How The Invisibl Skratch Piklz Put San Francisco Turntablism on the DJ Map","headTitle":"How The Invisibl Skratch Piklz Put San Francisco Turntablism on the DJ Map | KQED","content":"\u003cp>\u003cem>\u003cstrong>Editor’s note\u003c/strong>: This story is part of \u003c/em>\u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/bayareahiphop/\">That’s My Word\u003c/a>\u003cem>, KQED’s story series on \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/bayareahiphop/\">Bay Area hip-hop\u003c/a> history.\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>On a recent Friday night in San Francisco, a couple thousand fans of DJ culture crammed into the cavernous main room of a nightclub in Hunters Point.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Inside The Midway, it was elbow room-only from the stage to the back patio; many of those in the crowd were DJs themselves. The scene recalled the late ’90s-early 2000s glory days of the Bay Area, when turntablism seemed destined to become the Next Big Thing, and DJ nights dominated SF’s club scene. No one was there to dance; it wasn’t that kind of party.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13937762\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13937762\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-DMCBattle-28-BL-KQED.jpg\" alt=\"A person wearing a baseball cap stands at a table under fluorescent lighting.\" width=\"2000\" height=\"1333\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-DMCBattle-28-BL-KQED.jpg 2000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-DMCBattle-28-BL-KQED-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-DMCBattle-28-BL-KQED-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-DMCBattle-28-BL-KQED-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-DMCBattle-28-BL-KQED-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-DMCBattle-28-BL-KQED-1536x1024.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-DMCBattle-28-BL-KQED-1920x1280.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2000px) 100vw, 2000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">DJ Qbert performs with Invisibl Skratch Piklz during the DMC World DJ Finals at The Midway in San Francisco, Calif., on Nov. 3, 2023. \u003ccite>(Beth LaBerge/KQED)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>The occasion was the DMC World Championship DJ Battle Finals, with some of the best DJs in the world competing against each other. But there was another attraction too: live showcases by the Invisibl Skratch Piklz and Mix Master Mike, the legendary DJs who transformed the Bay Area into a turntablist Mecca during a seminal era for local hip-hop. DMC event organizer Christie Zee put the proceedings into their proper context: “You can’t have a battle in the Bay without the Skratch Piklz.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>As midnight approached, the lights dimmed, and the Piklz – Qbert, Shortkut and D-Styles – were announced to cheers that echoed throughout the high-ceilinged room. The Piklz opened with the 2015 ISP track “Fresh Out of FVCKs,” with its ominous electric organ melody that transitions into repeating melodic chords. A snare drum beat came in, followed by a rhythmically scratched snippet of a stuttering vocal phrase. The electric organ chords shifted into a chopped melody as the snare dropped out, then returned. And that’s all before the mind-bending scratch solos that followed.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The Piklz proceeded to display their musicality, keeping their technical acumen within the groove pocket with synchronized timing. As is customary with the Piklz, each played the part of a specific instrumentalist: D-Styles as the keyboardist, Shortkut as the drummer, and Qbert as the scratch soloist.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952244\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1920px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952244\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/MMM_DJ_mixer_PhotobyJeffStrawBranding-2275.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1920\" height=\"1280\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/MMM_DJ_mixer_PhotobyJeffStrawBranding-2275.jpg 1920w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/MMM_DJ_mixer_PhotobyJeffStrawBranding-2275-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/MMM_DJ_mixer_PhotobyJeffStrawBranding-2275-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/MMM_DJ_mixer_PhotobyJeffStrawBranding-2275-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/MMM_DJ_mixer_PhotobyJeffStrawBranding-2275-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/MMM_DJ_mixer_PhotobyJeffStrawBranding-2275-1536x1024.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1920px) 100vw, 1920px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Mix Master Mike at the DMC World DJ Finals at The Midway in San Francisco, Calif., on Nov. 3, 2023. \u003ccite>(Jeff Straw)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>A live version of “Death By A Thousand Paper Cuts” – a song from D-Styles’ 2019 album \u003cem>Noises In the Right Order\u003c/em> – and several unreleased ISP songs showed that \u003ca href=\"https://ccnmtl.columbia.edu/projects/jazzglossary/g/ghost_note.html\">ghost notes\u003c/a> aren’t just associated with jazz music. The turntable trio used the spaces between to impart a sense of presence and feel, a minimalist approach that allowed their scratches, cuts and juggles to resonate with maximum impact.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>This would have been a hard act to follow for anyone but Mix Master Mike. The ISP co-founder, who’s been a solo artist since 1995 or so, has a gigantic stage presence and skills to match. A one-man musical blender, MMM unleashed a maelstrom of sonic fury, with bone-crunching drums, an entire range of musical and vocal phrases, and precise turntable cuts that deconstructed the individual pieces of a live performance — only to reconstruct all the fragments into an emotionally-thrilling pastiche. After his set, when Mike was celebrated with a Lifetime Achievement Award, the honor was clearly well-deserved.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The Invisible Skratch Piklz were celebrating, too – 2023 marks their 30th anniversary – and it’s safe to say no Bay Area crew has done more to advance the DJ artform. Along with New York’s X-Ecutioners and LA’s Beat Junkies, ISP have defined the term turntablist, carving out a cultural niche that rests on a hip-hop foundation but exists in its own space.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13937759\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13937759\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-DMCBattle-13-BL-KQED.jpg\" alt=\"People stand in a crowd leaning on a barrier indoors.\" width=\"2000\" height=\"1333\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-DMCBattle-13-BL-KQED.jpg 2000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-DMCBattle-13-BL-KQED-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-DMCBattle-13-BL-KQED-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-DMCBattle-13-BL-KQED-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-DMCBattle-13-BL-KQED-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-DMCBattle-13-BL-KQED-1536x1024.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-DMCBattle-13-BL-KQED-1920x1280.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2000px) 100vw, 2000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">A crowd watches finalists compete during the DMC World DJ Finals at The Midway in San Francisco, Calif., on Nov. 3, 2023. \u003ccite>(Beth LaBerge/KQED)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>The Piklz have counted many firsts. As hip-hop’s relationship with the DJ has flipped from essential to inconsequential, they’ve maintained the DJ tradition for future generations, and extended its global reach. Over the past four decades, they’ve gone from students of the scratch to wizened masters of turntable music.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>And like most cultural icons, their backstory is involved, multilayered and fascinating.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952236\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1528px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952236\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/q.sta_.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1528\" height=\"1032\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/q.sta_.jpg 1528w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/q.sta_-800x540.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/q.sta_-1020x689.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/q.sta_-160x108.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/q.sta_-768x519.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1528px) 100vw, 1528px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">A young Qbert at a community hall mobile DJ dance party. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Shortkut)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003ch2>The Garage Party Era\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>The Invisibl Skratch Piklz story begins in what former ISP manager Alex Aquino calls the “pre-hip-hop era” of the late ’70s-early ’80s, when youth-oriented street dance intersected with pioneering mobile DJ crews and a Filipino-American tradition of garage parties.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“This was before breakdancing,” Aquino says. He recalls being 6 or 7 and seeing strutters, poppers and elements of DJ culture – including the Filipino mobile DJ crews who established a scene built around vinyl records, large stereo systems and frequent dance parties.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>One of those Filipino DJs was Apollo Novicio, a.k.a. DJ Apollo, a founding member of ISP who spent his early childhood roaming around the Mission District. By the time he reached middle school, his family had relocated to Daly City – where he likely attended some of the same parties as Aquino. “Back in the day, they’d have garage parties and there would be a DJ in the corner of the garage, set up on a washing machine and dryer and stuff like that. And at the parties, they would have popping and locking circles. Strutting, popping and locking. Breakdancing wasn’t even here yet, really. This was, I’d say, early ’80s, and that was pretty much my first exposure to the DJing and dancing element of it.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952292\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1004px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.mobiledjparty.png\" alt=\"\" width=\"1004\" height=\"674\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952292\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.mobiledjparty.png 1004w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.mobiledjparty-800x537.png 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.mobiledjparty-160x107.png 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.mobiledjparty-768x516.png 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1004px) 100vw, 1004px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Setup for a typical mobile DJ party in the early 1990s. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Shortkut)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>In 1982, Aquino remembers, a New York transplant named Oscar Sop had introduced B-boying and fat laces to the neighborhood, becoming one of the Bay Area’s first breakdancers. Meanwhile, the DJ crews were becoming more professional, and getting hired for weddings, quinceaneras, traditional Filipino celebrations and the occasional school dance party.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Apollo recalls “doing the strutting, popping, locking thing before B-boying got here.” Back then, “I didn’t even know it was hip-hop. I was such a young age. I’m like, just doing it and like, later on find out, oh, this is a hip-hop culture.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In addition to dancing being popular among Filipino youth, he remembers DJ groups proliferating at local high schools. “It was just kind of like the thing to do,” he says. “All the kids would form DJ groups.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“I don’t know how to explain (why), but there was a lot of Filipino mobile disc jockey groups,” says DJ Apollo. ”Back in the seventies, my older brothers and sisters, they used to collect music and listen to music. Everybody had to go to the record store and buy vinyl.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952212\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1030px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952212\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.mobileDJparty.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1030\" height=\"778\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.mobileDJparty.jpg 1030w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.mobileDJparty-800x604.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.mobileDJparty-1020x770.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.mobileDJparty-160x121.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.mobileDJparty-768x580.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1030px) 100vw, 1030px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">A mobile DJ party in 1991. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Shortkut)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Dr. Oliver Wang, author of \u003cem>\u003ca href=\"https://www.dukeupress.edu/legions-of-boom\">Legions of Boom: Filipino American Mobile DJ Crews in the San Francisco Bay Area\u003c/a>\u003c/em> and a professor of sociology at CSU Long Beach, explains that “the mobile DJ scene that the Piklz’ members got their start in wasn’t an exclusively Filipino phenomenon at all; there were Black, White, Latino and Chinese crews around then too. But the Fil-Am scene flourished above and beyond those other groups because they had distinct advantages coming from an immigrant community with strong social ties and large social networks.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In addition, Wang says, “Filipino American families have parties for practically any occasion — birthdays, debuts, christenings, graduations, or just plain house/garage parties for the heck of it. Importantly, those parties all wanted music, and that meant that DJs had all these opportunities to find gigs.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>By the time breakdancing became popularized through movies like \u003cem>Beat Street\u003c/em> and \u003cem>Breakin’,\u003c/em> Apollo says, “DJing was already here… there were dances every weekend, and DJ battles and showcases almost every other weekend. That’s how it was when I was growing up around the San Francisco and Daly City area in the early ’80s.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952219\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1163px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/rscdjs.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1163\" height=\"831\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952219\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/rscdjs.jpg 1163w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/rscdjs-800x572.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/rscdjs-1020x729.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/rscdjs-160x114.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/rscdjs-768x549.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1163px) 100vw, 1163px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Appearing as FM2O (Furious Minds 2 Observe), Qbert, Mix Master Mike and Apollo perform at an ‘eco-rap’ show in San Francisco, circa 1989–1990. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Apollo)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>One of the top mobile DJ crews at that time was Unlimited Sounds. “They were like the biggest group from Daly City, and they were already established,” Apollo says. Many of the crew members were older and attended Jefferson High School. Apollo remembers hanging out at Serra Bowl, becoming friends with Unlimited Sounds and gradually being drawn into the world of DJing.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“Every day after school, I would just hang out at their garage and practice,” he says. “All the equipment was there, the records were all there, the lights, everything.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Apollo saved his allowance and lunch money to buy his first set of turntables, and formed makeshift DJ crews with his friends. “We would gather our parents’ equipment, like home stereo equipment and gather it all up. I would get my parents’ home stereo system combined with my homies’ parents’ stereo system, combined with my other homie’s house system. And then we would put all the equipment together and we saw we had a DJ group.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Apollo started making mixtapes — he still remembers the first time he had enough records to make an all-hip-hop tape — and eventually became good enough to join Unlimited Sounds in 1985, who at the time had gigs all over the Bay Area. That experience gave him a solid foundation in DJing parties and playing a wide variety of records, but he was more interested in “scratching, juggling, trick-mixing — turntablism before it was even called that.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952233\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 600px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/RSC-DJs-Psycho-City-Cover.jpeg\" alt=\"\" width=\"600\" height=\"401\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952233\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/RSC-DJs-Psycho-City-Cover.jpeg 600w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/RSC-DJs-Psycho-City-Cover-160x107.jpeg 160w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 600px) 100vw, 600px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">The Rock City DJs at the famed San Francisco graffiti spot Psycho City, January 1993. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Shortkut)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Prior to joining Unlimited Sounds, Apollo had hooked up with another up-and-coming DJ who was becoming known for his pause-tape mixes and obsessive focus on scratching: Michael Anthony Schwartz, a.k.a. Mix Master Mike, a Filipino-German kid who attended Jeffferson, the same high school as Aquino and Apollo. Rather than practice the blends and beat-matching typically used at parties, though, Apollo and Mix Master Mike would “do more scratching or tricks, routines and that type of stuff.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>With those bedroom routines, a reimagining of the turntable’s possibilities had begun.\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>‘Oh, Snap — What Did We Just Do?’\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>Mix Master Mike didn’t come up in the mobile DJ scene. His early inspiration was seeing Run-DMC’s Jam Master Jay live.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Watching Jay DJ for DMC and Run, he says, he remembers thinking, “Oh, they’re using records, but they sound more like they’re a full-fledged band, you know? That was just profound to me, that he was using records and rocking the house, \u003cem>with just records\u003c/em>. And that’s when I immediately knew that’s what I wanted to be.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952222\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1732px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952222\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.MMM_.japan_.subway.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1732\" height=\"1177\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.MMM_.japan_.subway.jpg 1732w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.MMM_.japan_.subway-800x544.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.MMM_.japan_.subway-1020x693.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.MMM_.japan_.subway-160x109.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.MMM_.japan_.subway-768x522.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.MMM_.japan_.subway-1536x1044.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1732px) 100vw, 1732px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Mix Master Mike on the subway in Japan, 1993. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Alex Aquino)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Not long after Run-DMC brought their Raising Hell tour to a sold-out Oakland Coliseum arena, Apollo and Mike formed an informal DJ crew called Together With Style (not to be confused with the SF graffiti crew of the same name) and held long practice sessions in Apollo’s garage.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>But with Mike, “we did go hard on scratching and tricks and juggling – which later on turned into turntablism.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Individually, they would take turns on Apollo’s set of turntables. But one day, they decided to work in tandem — a moment that altered the course of DJ history.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>As Apollo remembers it: “Me and Mike were messing around with the turntables and… we’re like, well, let’s just do something together, since we don’t have to wait our turn (to practice). So I grabbed one turntable, and he grabbed the other turntable and we kind of just started making a beat with two records and one mixer. I got the bass kick and he grabbed the snare and we just started making a beat like, \u003cem>boom, cha, boom boom boom cha, boom boom\u003c/em>, you know? And then we’re just like, ‘Oh, snap, what did we just do? That was crazy.’”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952218\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 604px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952218\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/10423_136960922731_697132731_2526758_2429020_n.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"604\" height=\"408\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/10423_136960922731_697132731_2526758_2429020_n.jpg 604w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/10423_136960922731_697132731_2526758_2429020_n-160x108.jpg 160w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 604px) 100vw, 604px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">The Rock Steady Crew DJs in 1991. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Apollo)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Apollo and Mike would perfect the two-man routine over a period of several years, “and we just started performing it all over the place at showcases and dances, you know, wherever. People were seeing it and being amazed. We were amazed by it ourselves.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[pullquote size='large' align='center' citation='DJ Apollo']I got the bass kick and he grabbed the snare and we just started making a beat like, boom, cha, boom boom boom cha, boom boom, you know? And then we’re just like, ‘Oh, snap, what did we just do?” [/pullquote] \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>One witness to the early routine was Richard Quitevis, an acquaintance of Mike and Apollo who went by the name DJ Qbert.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“Qbert saw it one time and he was amazed by it. He’s like, \u003cem>Oh, what is that?!?\u003c/em>,” Apollo says.\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>Qbert Enters the Picture\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>DJ Qbert grew up in San Francisco’s Excelsior district. Like Apollo, his first exposure to hip-hop precedes the term itself. He recalls fishing at Pier 39 at the age of 12 and seeing the Fillmore dance crew \u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=weKkAF9NdCI\">Demons of the Mind\u003c/a>. “There would be all these poppers; at the time they were called strutters. They would be playing this really fast electro music. And it was like, ‘Look at these robot-like guys in shiny little outfits with these silver hats.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Qbert was fascinated not only with the vibrant dancers, but the sounds. “I was like, ‘Man, this is crazy. I love it, but where are they getting this music from?’”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952215\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1371px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952215\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-in-bologna.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1371\" height=\"984\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-in-bologna.jpg 1371w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-in-bologna-800x574.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-in-bologna-1020x732.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-in-bologna-160x115.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-in-bologna-768x551.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1371px) 100vw, 1371px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Shortkut, Mix Master Mike and Qbert gettin’ up in Bologna, Italy. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Shortkut)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Qbert remembers early attempts at breakdancing with his friends, who fashioned their own makeshift outfits. But it was the DJ scratch – particularly the skills displayed by Mix Master Ice on UTFO’s 1985 single “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0KE3-IyLsg8\">Leader of the Pack\u003c/a>” – that really drew his interest. “I just started collecting the music, always collecting the music. And that’s what made me become a DJ.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>One day, Qbert was asked to DJ a garage party. “Everybody was about 12, 13, 14, 15, and everybody was breaking in the garage. And we were playing all my records on a big-ass giant box. Like, you open the top and you put the record in, and you just let that play. And the kids were spinning and they couldn’t control themselves. They would spin and they would spin, right into the DJ box, the turntable box. That was my first time being a mobile DJ.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>He explains his early attraction to turntables and scratching: “You could manipulate sound by grabbing (the record), moving forward and backward,” he says, imitating a scratch sound. “It was like a toy. A toy that was like a musical instrument. I didn’t even know it was a musical instrument. I was just thinking of it as like, it just sounds crazy. You just pull sound out of the air and move it, like, ‘Oh, what a weird contraption.’”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Eventually, Q joined a mobile DJ crew called Live Style Productions, and came to the attention of Apollo and Mix Master Mike, who remember going to Balboa High School to see him spin.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“Q, we just knew from around the way,” Apollo says. “We would go to different showcases on the weekends and see him perform. And so we knew about Q.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952240\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 600px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952240\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/600_us_champ_trophy.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"600\" height=\"407\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/600_us_champ_trophy.jpg 600w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/600_us_champ_trophy-160x109.jpg 160w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 600px) 100vw, 600px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Invisibl Skratch Piklz with the U.S. Championship trophy. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Shortkut)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>In 1991, Qbert entered the DMCs, winning the U.S. Championships and advancing all the way to the World Finals in London, where he took 2nd place. Aquino claims Qbert’s technical skills were so advanced, they went over most of the audience’s heads, but Qbert admits he got cocky and didn’t practice before his set: “I was sloppy,” he says. That loss instilled in him the importance of practicing, which he took to with rigorous discipline.\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>The Turntables Might Wobble\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>Hip-hop journalist and author Adisa Banjoko, a friend, recalls once being at Qbert’s house and hearing him scratch the rhythms of Rakim’s verses from Eric B. & Rakim’s “I Ain’t No Joke” – using entirely scratched tones to replicate Rakim’s stanzas. “You gotta record that,” Banjoko told Q, who just shrugged and said, “Nah, I do that all the time.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Around this time, Apollo and Mike were honing their two-man routine and making beats with the intention of forming a rap crew, with them as producers and DJs. After returning from London with his U.S. title, Qbert introduced Mike and Apollo to a rapper who used to hang out at his house named Nim-FHD.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“This is where it all comes together,” Apollo says. “Me and Mike were making beats, and we always wanted to find a voice for our beats. And so when Qbert introduced us to this rapper, and when me and Mike heard that guy’s voice, Nim’s voice, we were like, ‘Oh man, that’s the voice for our music.’”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952232\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 604px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952232\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/n1071373619_171639_1875.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"604\" height=\"416\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/n1071373619_171639_1875.jpg 604w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/n1071373619_171639_1875-160x110.jpg 160w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 604px) 100vw, 604px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">The extended crew. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Apollo)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Apollo explained his vision to Nim, and they enlisted H2O, another emcee they met through Qbert, who also joined the group. “We told Q, do you want to be a part of the ‘\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Sd5gFx001qg\">Peter Piper\u003c/a>’ routine? And he was like, overjoyed. Like, ‘Let’s do it. Absolutely, let’s do it.’ So then we’re like… why don’t we become the DJs for this group that will be the first rap group with three DJs and two rappers? And we’ll do all the beats and scratching.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>They christened themselves FM2O – an acronym for “Furious Minds To Observe” — the first iteration of what would become the Invisibl Skratch Piklz. As Mike says, “it was definitely a meant-to-be moment, when I hooked up with Q.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The group was managed by Aquino, who had left Unlimited Sounds and started throwing parties while trying to establish an independent hip-hop label, Ace Beat. While working on a demo tape, FM2O played local venues and music industry showcases like the Gavin Convention and New Music Seminar. In 1992, they appeared at the Omni in Oakland on a bill with Banjoko’s crew, Freedom T.R.O.O.P. 187, plus Organized Konfusion, Gangstarr and headliner Body Count. Epic as that lineup is, Apollo, Mike and Qbert’s orchestrated turntable segment during FM2O’s set was the absolute showstopper.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>FM2O’s music was slightly ahead of its time; in the early ’90s, “alternative hip-hop” hadn’t yet established itself in the mainstream. No hip-hop group had ever featured three DJs, all of them scratch fanatics.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>While Aquino tried unsuccessfully to secure FM2O a label deal, the DJs made moves in the battle scene.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952242\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1920px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952242\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/AAA_MMM_jacket_PhotobyJeffStrawBranding-2387.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1920\" height=\"1280\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/AAA_MMM_jacket_PhotobyJeffStrawBranding-2387.jpg 1920w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/AAA_MMM_jacket_PhotobyJeffStrawBranding-2387-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/AAA_MMM_jacket_PhotobyJeffStrawBranding-2387-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/AAA_MMM_jacket_PhotobyJeffStrawBranding-2387-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/AAA_MMM_jacket_PhotobyJeffStrawBranding-2387-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/AAA_MMM_jacket_PhotobyJeffStrawBranding-2387-1536x1024.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1920px) 100vw, 1920px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Mix Master Mike with his DMC Legend jacket at The Midway in San Francisco, 2023. \u003ccite>(Jeff Straw)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003ch2>The First Major World Titles\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>Qbert’s second-place 1991 DMC finish earned him props from Clark Kent, a well-respected New York DJ and producer of the New Music Seminar DJ Battle for World Supremacy. Kent asked Qbert to judge the 1992 battle alongside NYC heavyweights like EPMD’s DJ Scratch and Gangstarr’s DJ Premier. Mix Master Mike, meanwhile, entered as a contestant – and ended up winning the battle. (Ironically, Aquino says, instead of practicing before his routine, Mike had stayed up all night.)\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZLRprNA_GSk\">Video of the battle\u003c/a> – during which Mike performs eight different routines, besting Japan’s DJ Honda in the final showdown before taking on defending champ Supreme in a challenge match – confirms he was on a mission to crush all competition. He doubles up Word of Mouth’s “King Kut” with blinding speed and finesse, blends Schooly D and Flavor Flav phrases to dis “sucker DJs,” slows down the records to juggle entirely new beats, deconstructs the wax into a series of melodic tones, and maintains a sense of rhythmic mastery that’s chaotic and jarring but never veers out of control. Boisterous shouts from the crowd testify to Mike’s determined brilliance.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Billed as the Rocksteady DJs (with the blessing of Bronx B-boy legend Crazy Legs, from the Rock Steady Crew), Qbert, Mike and Apollo won the DMCs that same year with the “Peter Piper” routine. The following year, with DJ Apollo unavailable while touring as the Souls of Mischief’s DJ, Mike and Qbert, billed as the Dream Team, again won the DMC World Championship. Mike still remembers the anticipation and energy that went into the preparations for the battle, along with the ginseng they imbibed before their set “like Chinese martial arts masters.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952237\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 600px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/l_f99accf3c766cef703abeb72c042e21e.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"600\" height=\"397\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952237\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/l_f99accf3c766cef703abeb72c042e21e.jpg 600w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/l_f99accf3c766cef703abeb72c042e21e-160x106.jpg 160w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 600px) 100vw, 600px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Mix Master Mike, pictured at center: ‘It was a discovery. Right? ‘Oh, shit. We could take this and flip it anyway we want to,’ you know?’ \u003ccite>(Courtesy Shortkut)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>These victories were culturally significant. Not only had no West Coast DJ ever been crowned a World Champion before, but no Filipino DJ had ever placed that high in a major competition.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>To explain just how significant, it’s necessary to understand the evolution of the DJ artform.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The first development, playing “break” sections of records (known as breakbeats), was initially a clumsy needle-drop technique originated by hip-hop pioneer Kool Herc. Grandmaster Flash refined the DJ vocabulary with backspinning, cueing, cutting, punch phrasing, quick-mixing and reading the record like a clock. Grand Wizzard Theodore developed the basic scratch. Steve Dee invented the beat-juggle. But no DJ was doing synchronized team routines that reimagined the turntables as individual instruments prior to the Rocksteady DJs.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“That was an awesome thing,” Mike says. “It just started from a thought. The collective team, it was like it was a unit. We all had the same aspirations and goals of doing things people had never, ever seen or heard before. And it just spawned this whole movement. And it’s just something that we love to do. It was a discovery. Right? ‘Oh, shit. We could take this and flip it anyway we want to,’ you know? And that was the beauty of it.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952220\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2560px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952220\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan_.jackets-scaled.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"2560\" height=\"1715\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan_.jackets-scaled.jpg 2560w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan_.jackets-800x536.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan_.jackets-1020x683.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan_.jackets-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan_.jackets-768x515.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan_.jackets-1536x1029.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan_.jackets-2048x1372.jpg 2048w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan_.jackets-1920x1286.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2560px) 100vw, 2560px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Sporting championship jackets in Tokyo, 1993. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Alex Aquino)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Their succession of three major titles in two years elevated the DJ artform and raised the bar for battles. Teams of three or more DJs would soon proliferate throughout the DJ universe, and battle routines became more well-rounded, with emphasis on scratching, beat-juggling, and musicality or rhythmic coherence, as well as sheer technical ability.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>It also led to a backlash of sorts: Mike confirms that after dominating for three years in a row, his crew was politely asked to retire from the DMC competition. He characterizes the request as a “giving other people a chance to win type deal.” But to him and his other Bay Area battlers, “We felt like it wasn’t fair to us because we got a lot in the tank. Let’s go. Keep going. See how far we can go… we were ready to defend the next year. But unfortunately they wanted to make us judges.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>As it turned out, stepping away from the competitive battle scene proved to be a blessing in disguise. “After we stopped battling,” Mike says, “I was like, okay, what’s next? We’re going to make records now. I’m gonna become a full fledged artist, you know? I don’t want to be this DJ dude. I don’t want to be a DJ guy that’s playing other people’s records standing up there. We’ve done that already. I’m going to get in the studio and be a producer, and I’m going to make music out of this whole thing, like, springboard into making original compositions. And so that’s what I’m doing, to this day.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952238\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1430px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952238\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-in-Hawaii-1996.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1430\" height=\"1039\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-in-Hawaii-1996.jpg 1430w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-in-Hawaii-1996-800x581.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-in-Hawaii-1996-1020x741.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-in-Hawaii-1996-160x116.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-in-Hawaii-1996-768x558.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1430px) 100vw, 1430px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Invisibl Skratch Piklz in Hawaii, 1996. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Shortkut)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>But first, the crew needed a new name. During their time DJing for FM2O, the three DJs were collectively known as Shadow of the Prophet, or simply, The Shadow. A chance encounter with an early-career DJ Shadow – who apologetically offered to change his name – led to Qbert graciously telling him that he could keep the name “Shadow,” and that he’d change his group’s name instead. “Rocksteady DJs” and “The Dream Team” were one-offs, for the most part. They needed something catchy that also reflected who they were.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>One day it came to them. As Qbert recounts, “We was on one, and we were laughing and laughing. And I think Mix Master Mike said, “Why don’t we be called the Invisible Pickles? We were just cracking up and we were thinking about, you know, an invisible pickle.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The next day, Qbert got a call from his pal Lou Quintanilla, a.k.a. DJ Disk. “And he said, ‘How about Invisible Scratch Pickles?’ I was like, that kind of sounds dope.” (Though it may sound abstract, the name is rooted in a concrete concept: the turntable as an “invisible instrument” that could be almost any instrument – drums, guitar, vocals, anything.) The crew’s offbeat sense of humor reflected in their new name had long been evident; in 1992, they released \u003cem>Battle Breaks\u003c/em>, one of the first DJ tool records specifically designed for scratching, officially credited to the Psychedelic Scratch Bastards on the Dirt Style label. In later years they would put out various releases under an affiliate record label that they named Galactic Butt Hair.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Before settling on the new name, though, they ran it by a younger DJ who was asked to join the crew — Jonathan Cruz, a.k.a. DJ Shortkut.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952228\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1759px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952228\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.shortkut.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1759\" height=\"1193\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.shortkut.jpg 1759w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.shortkut-800x543.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.shortkut-1020x692.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.shortkut-160x109.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.shortkut-768x521.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.shortkut-1536x1042.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1759px) 100vw, 1759px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Shortkut. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Alex Aquino)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003ch2>Electro and the Art of the Quick Mix\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>Growing up in Daly City, Shortkut caught the DJ bug thanks to a Filipino mobile crew who played his 6th grade dance. He started DJing at age 13, after the local Filipino sound system culture had cycled through disco, metal, and New Wave, before arriving at hip-hop, freestyle and Miami bass.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>One of Shortkut’s first exposures to a DJ battle took place in a large hall.“There would be about four to six sound systems separately set up in the one room with their own individual sound systems. Each group would get about like 20 minutes to do their thing, and then at the end of the night, whoever won. The word got out that group won, and then that’s who everyone wanted to book for school dances or birthday parties.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Shortkut joined a crew called Just 2 Hype, which played freestyle, Miami bass and 808-laced Mantronix singles. “That’s why I think the Bay Area is specifically more scratch-DJ based,” he says, “because everyone scratched to fast beats, all the classic electro stuff.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>He also worked on perfecting the art of the quick-mix, changing up the record every four or eight bars. But records like DJ Jazzy Jeff’s “Live At Union Square” drew him into the world of scratch-mixing. “When I first started scratching, I just listened to records, basically. All the early records I used to buy, I would just try to copy what I heard on record.”\u003cbr>\nIn the late ’80s and early ’90s, he says, “I really got into embracing hip-hop” – catching up with records that hadn’t been hugely popular in the Filipino scene, and becoming further enthralled with scratching and beat-juggling. “That’s when I was first hearing about Qbert and Apollo and Mix Master Mike,” he says.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952223\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1742px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan1_.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1742\" height=\"1190\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952223\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan1_.jpg 1742w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan1_-800x546.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan1_-1020x697.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan1_-160x109.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan1_-768x525.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan1_-1536x1049.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1742px) 100vw, 1742px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">First trip to Japan, 1993. At far left is B-boy and dancer Richard Colón, a.k.a. Crazy Legs from the Rock Steady Crew. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Alex Aquino)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Back then, Apollo was the big name, being from Unlimited Sounds. “He was the party rocker. But he was kind of the B-boy out of all the Filipino guys I knew.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>As he attempted to build his DJ skills, Shortkut remembers listening to cassette tapes of Qbert scratching and mixing. Initially, he had only basic equipment, and used belt-driven turntables. “I got better once I got to direct-drives because I already knew how to handle it and have a certain feel to it.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Qbert winning the U.S. DMC Championship in 1991 was huge, he says. “We didn’t really have any role models, as a Filipino kid.” He took the win as validation – and inspiration.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“I lived about five minutes from Q’s house,” he says. “I used to go to Q’s house with the guy who taught me how to DJ. We both cold-called Q because we knew he was the one who had all the battle videos. So we would go to his house and dub the videos and while they were dubbing, me and Q would scratch.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>During this time, Shortkut says, Mike had moved to Sacramento, and Apollo was DJing for Branford Marsalis, “so I would hook up with Q and Disk a lot.” Q used to bring Shortkut and Disk along when he opened up shows in the Bay – affording the younger DJs valuable stage experience. Shortkut, Mike, and Q eventually formed a crew briefly called the Turntable Dragons, pre-ISP. Then, in 1993, Shortkut, Mike, and Q played a \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13935467/the-bomb-magazine-label-san-francisco-turntablism-djs\">Bomb Hip-Hop\u003c/a> Party – possibly the first time they had been billed as the Invisibl Skratch Piklz.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952239\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 250px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952239\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/invisblskratchp_002-h.gif\" alt=\"\" width=\"250\" height=\"250\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">The five-man crew. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Shortkut)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003ch2>‘Everyone That Worked There Was Filipino’\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>Dave Paul, publisher of \u003cem>Bomb Hip Hop Magazine\u003c/em>, coincidentally also began as a mobile DJ in 1984 with a crew called Midnight Connections. He tells a funny story about working an after-school job for Chevron. “I wasn’t that great. So they moved me from, like, the main Chevron on Geary Street over to one on California Street. And everyone that worked there was Filipino. Turned out everyone that worked there was also a DJ.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Paul knew of Apollo from Unlimited Sounds, and had seen Qbert perform a famous “Mary Had A Little Lamb” routine during a San Jose battle around 1989 or 1990. “That really got his name out,” he says.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>During the annual Gavin Convention in San Francisco, Bomb Hip Hop magazine would present live performance showcases. Paul booked the Piklz on multiple occasions, beginning in 1992, when they were still called the Rocksteady DJs.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>According to Paul, the vibe of those early performances “was always sort of the \u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kDLzGtQmMyw\">don’t-give-a-fuck style\u003c/a>. Like, things didn’t have to be clean. They were just really raw. And it was just ill. They were doing stuff that no one else was doing at the time.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_10345320\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-10345320\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2015/01/QBertMain.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"450\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2015/01/QBertMain.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2015/01/QBertMain-400x225.jpg 400w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">DJ QBert. \u003ccite>(Thud Rumble)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>After releasing a now-legendary compilation tape that featured Qbert along with a Canadian MC named Madchild, as well as local underground artists like Homeless Derelix, Blackalicious, Bored Stiff, and Mystik Journeymen, Bomb Hip Hop became a record label in 1995 with the release of \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13937489/best-bay-area-turntablism-scratch-dj-albums\">\u003cem>Return of the DJ Vol. 1\u003c/em>\u003c/a>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>That record essentially started the movement of turntablism as a musical genre. The Skratch Piklz (at that time, Qbert, Shortkut and Disk) were featured on “Invasion of the Octopus People,” while Mix Master Mike contributed his first official solo production, “Terrorwrist.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>Return of the DJ \u003c/em>evolved into a compilation series spanning multiple volumes, and inspired numerous others, like Om Records’ \u003cem>Deep Concentration\u003c/em> and Ubiquity’s \u003cem>Audio Alchemy\u003c/em> compilations. Asphodel, an alternative label known for ultra-underground somnolent, ambient, droney electronic music, signed the Skratch Piklz to a deal, which resulted in 1996’s single “Invisibl Skratch Piklz vs. Da Klamz Uv Deth,” which featured Qbert, Shortkut, and Mix Master Mike.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952246\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1938px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952246\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ezgif-3-ae00e595ca.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1938\" height=\"1882\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ezgif-3-ae00e595ca.jpg 1938w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ezgif-3-ae00e595ca-800x777.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ezgif-3-ae00e595ca-1020x991.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ezgif-3-ae00e595ca-160x155.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ezgif-3-ae00e595ca-768x746.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ezgif-3-ae00e595ca-1536x1492.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ezgif-3-ae00e595ca-1920x1865.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1938px) 100vw, 1938px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">‘Invisibl Skratch Piklz vs. Da Clamz Uv Deth,’ 1997. \u003ccite>(Asphodel Records)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>“A very strange thing about that (single) is, I had just invented scratch music,” Qbert says. “Which is this thing where every sound is scratched. Drums are scratched, the hi-hats are scratched, the snare and vocals are scratched, the chords, every single thing is scratched! No matter what is in there. So that was tracked out — like, every track was off the turntables, making a complete scratch song.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Turntablism spread quickly through San Francisco’s progressive club scene in the mid-’90s. Mark Herlihy’s art/performance collective Future Primitive established itself as an avant garde music label with a live recording of Shortkut and Cut Chemist at Cat’s Alley, on Folsom Street. An outer Tenderloin hole in the wall, Deco, became a headquarters for unfiltered, ultra-creative DJ expression in its basement, via “Many Styles” nights curated by Apollo. Qbert was part of the groundbreaking alternative hip-hop group Dr. Octagon along with producer Dan the Automator and MC Kool Keith, who recorded an indie classic that got re-released nationally by Dreamworks. To this day, Qbert’s scratch solo on Dr. Octagon’s “Earth People” stands out as a particular flashpoint, the turntable equivalent, perhaps, of the guitar solos on “Hotel California” or “Comfortably Numb.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Needless to say, it’s not an empty boast when Mix Master Mike says he and the Skratch Piklz “pretty much created this genre of music.” No one was doing it before them, and many followed in their footsteps. Locally, the Bullet Proof Scratch Hamsters (aka the Space Travelers), Supernatural Turntable Artists, and the Oakland Faders all scratched and juggled. Live bands incorporating turntablists included Live Human (DJ Quest) and Soulstice (Mei-Lwun). New York’s X-Ecutioners were probably ISP’s closest counterparts nationally, having formed in 1989. But despite their turntable innovations, even they weren’t performing or recording as a \u003cem>band\u003c/em> until after the Skratch Piklz.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952245\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1920px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952245\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/AAA_Q_ISP_11_JeffStraw-2144.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1920\" height=\"1280\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/AAA_Q_ISP_11_JeffStraw-2144.jpg 1920w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/AAA_Q_ISP_11_JeffStraw-2144-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/AAA_Q_ISP_11_JeffStraw-2144-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/AAA_Q_ISP_11_JeffStraw-2144-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/AAA_Q_ISP_11_JeffStraw-2144-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/AAA_Q_ISP_11_JeffStraw-2144-1536x1024.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1920px) 100vw, 1920px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Invisibl Skratch Piklz at the DMC World DJ Finals at The Midway in San Francisco, Calif., on Nov. 3, 2023. \u003ccite>(Jeff Straw)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Back when they were known as the X-Men, the X-Ecutioners faced off against the Piklz in a landmark 1996 battle in New York’s Manhattan Center – a contest so epic, it’s listed among \u003cem>Mixmag\u003c/em>’s \u003ca href=\"https://mixmag.net/feature/the-10-best-dj-scratch-battles-of-all-time\">Top 10 DJ Scratch Battles of All Time\u003c/a>. X-Ecutioners member and DJ historian Rob Swift says Qbert first came on his radar in 1991, when he beat X-Ecutioners founder Steve Dee to win the US DMC Finals.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“We thought he was Hawaiian,” Swift says, because Qbert appeared to be wearing a lei in the battle video. “We didn’t know that he was this Filipino DJ that came out of this Filipino community of DJs in the Bay Area. We didn’t know that there \u003cem>were\u003c/em> DJs out there.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Swift later entered the 1991 New Music Seminar battle, where Qbert was a judge; the two exchanged numbers and began calling each other and exchanging videos regularly.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>When rappers began increasingly excluding the DJ throughout the ’90s, he says he and Qbert would discuss what to do about it., “We would both be like, ‘You’ve got these rappers (not respecting the DJ). Fuck them, and we’re going to create our own DJ scene. If the music industry is going to turn their backs on DJing, we need to figure out a way to just create our own scene.’”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“And,” he adds, “that’s exactly what we did.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952225\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1759px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952225\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Lebanon.trophy.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1759\" height=\"1166\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Lebanon.trophy.jpg 1759w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Lebanon.trophy-800x530.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Lebanon.trophy-1020x676.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Lebanon.trophy-160x106.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Lebanon.trophy-768x509.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Lebanon.trophy-1536x1018.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1759px) 100vw, 1759px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Invisibl Skratch Piklz in Lebanon. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Alex Aquino)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003ch2>Enter the ITF — and D-Styles\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>When the Pilkz battled the X-Ecutioners, it was as much about gaining respect for turntable culture as it was about individual bragging rights. Though the court of public opinion is still split on who won, the battle put a spotlight on both crews. As Swift says, “We started strategizing ways to book our own tours and create all-DJ competitions (like) the ITF, the International Turntablist Federation,” who organized the historic battle.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Founded by Alex Aquino with help from Shortkut, the ITF was established in 1995 and stayed active until 2005. It was intended as a cultural organization, and as somewhat of a critique of the DMC, which had become the only major DJ competition, following the demise of the New Music Seminar.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“Without the DMC,” Aquino says, “we wouldn’t have this world stage for the guys to be on. But after Q lost that first battle, we were like, something has to change.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Specifically, the criteria. “And so, we were like, let’s do our own battle. Let’s have real turntablists and DJs judge it, like a New Music Seminar, but instead of just the one-on-one battle, the advancement class for the belt, let’s do a scratching category. Let’s do a beat-juggling category. And let’s do a team category. And that’s how we started out.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952211\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1366px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952211\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan_.magazine.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1366\" height=\"1834\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan_.magazine.jpg 1366w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan_.magazine-800x1074.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan_.magazine-1020x1369.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan_.magazine-160x215.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan_.magazine-768x1031.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan_.magazine-1144x1536.jpg 1144w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1366px) 100vw, 1366px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">In a Japanese magazine, date unknown. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Shortkut)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>DJs like Vin Roc, Babu, Craze, and A-Trak all won ITF titles, as did teams like the Allies and Beat Junkies. The ITF succeeded in giving turntablists a visible platform to showcase their skills and in further popularizing the artform in the U.S. and internationally. (In 1999, the DMC would add a team category, and the organization currently rotates additional categories, including Scratch, Portablist, and Beat Juggling.)\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>After \u003cem>Return of the DJ\u003c/em>’s “Octopus People,” with Apollo unavailable and Mix Master Mike pursuing a solo career, the Skratch Piklz needed new blood. For the next few years, ISP membership became somewhat fluid, swelling and contracting as new members joined for a while, before going off to do other projects. DJ Disk, DJ Flare, Canadian teenage prodigy A-Trak, and former Thud Rumble label manager Ritche Desuasido, a.k.a. Yogafrog, were all ISP members at one time or another, along with Shortkut.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In 1996, Beat Junkies member Dave Cuasito, a.k.a. D-Styles, joined the Piklz and became a linchpin for the group; Aquino calls him “the hidden master.” Though not as flashy or famous as Qbert, he’s well-respected in turntablist circles and has helped focus the Pilkz on compositional elements in their music while also being able to scratch, cut and juggle at a high level.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Born in the Philippines, D-Styles grew up in San Jose. Like the other Piklz, he was exposed to hip-hop through breaking and its accompanying soundtrack. “I would hear the songs that they were playing, but then they would scratch certain words and certain parts of that song. And so I was always curious how they were doing it.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952229\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1759px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952229\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.qbert_.dst_.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1759\" height=\"1168\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.qbert_.dst_.jpg 1759w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.qbert_.dst_-800x531.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.qbert_.dst_-1020x677.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.qbert_.dst_-160x106.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.qbert_.dst_-768x510.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.qbert_.dst_-1536x1020.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1759px) 100vw, 1759px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Grandmaster DXT and Qbert. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Alex Aquino)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>His answer came when he saw Grandmixer DST (now known as DXT)’s scratch segment on Herbie Hancock’s “Rockit.” After getting a basic Realistic mixer for his birthday, he, too, joined a mobile DJ crew (Sound City), who pooled their equipment like so many others – and spent their meager proceeds on post-gig Denny’s meals. After taking part in typical mobile battles with crews exchanging 20-minute sets, he discovered there was a battle specifically for scratch DJs, and competed in the 1993 DMC.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In 1996, he moved to San Francisco to attend college, but what he really wanted was to pursue music. He was already familiar with Mike, Qbert and Shortkut from the battle scene, and from hanging out on Tuesday night at Deco, a small speakeasy-style jazz bar with open turntables in the basement.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“One strange night, I got a phone call on my answering machine and it was Yogafrog and Q, and they were like, ‘Hey, man’ – I don’t know if they were drunk or what – but they were like, ‘we need to talk, man. We think we should all come together and form a crew.” They met up and talked, and soon after, he was asked to officially join the group.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>D-Styles stoic demeanor compliments the other Piklz, yet beneath his focused concentration lies a punk rock attitude that aligns with Qbert’s philosophy that the only rule is there are no rules. Likewise, his turntable-composition approach balances the others’ battle-DJ backgrounds.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952235\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 636px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952235\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/SK-A-TRAK-1997-at-Qs.png\" alt=\"\" width=\"636\" height=\"474\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/SK-A-TRAK-1997-at-Qs.png 636w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/SK-A-TRAK-1997-at-Qs-160x119.png 160w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 636px) 100vw, 636px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Shortkut and A-Trak at Qbert’s place, 1997. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Shortkut)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>“As far as a turntable composer, I feel like we definitely embrace the more musical side of it, and less technical,” he says. “For the battle DJs, they really try to spray like a Uzi, you know what I mean? And just get off a bunch of power stuff and try to wow the the crowd and the judges. For music, it’s more about the long-term thing. We want to make music that’s timeless. And it’s not based off of a five-minute routine.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>With the core Piklz now set with Qbert, Shortkut and D-Styles, Mix Master Mike – who remained affiliated with the crew – says, “I felt like we had the perfect stew. Everyone had their own style, their own identity.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Around this time, Mike began putting together his first solo album, \u003cem>Anti-Theft Device\u003c/em>, which he envisioned as “not an underground album (but) a worldwide release.” He imagined himself as a sonic transducer, attracting and reshaping matter into different forms. He drew on inspirations like Led Zeppelin’s John Bonham, early Public Enemy, Thelonious Monk, Rage Against the Machine and Ennio Morricone. He contemplated the subtlety of silence, of ghost notes and pregnant pauses. And then he went out and made an album with booming, deafening drums and thumping bass on nearly every track.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“I focused on the drums first,” Mike says. “I wanted to make sure those drums were hitting really hard.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952249\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952249\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/MMM.antitheft.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1000\" height=\"984\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/MMM.antitheft.jpg 1000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/MMM.antitheft-800x787.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/MMM.antitheft-160x157.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/MMM.antitheft-768x756.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1000px) 100vw, 1000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Mix Master Mike’s ‘Anti-Theft Device,’ 1998. \u003ccite>(Asphodel Records)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>On \u003cem>Anti-Theft Device\u003c/em>, the found sounds and quirky vocal samples (“NASA maintains this is \u003cem>not\u003c/em> Colonel Blaha’s voice”) often present on DJ mix tapes resurface often, along with boom-bap beats and scratched phrases, instruments and sound effects. There are elements of intoxicated or altered reality, and bug-out moments that suggest turboized vocoders spouting underwater propellers, or seemingly random musical sample generators harnessing infinite libraries of sound, from raga to reggae to rock.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“At the end of the day,” Mike says, “it’s about spearheading the evolution of the battle DJ – as artist, composer, tastemaker.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>While Mike was the first Pikl to make a solo album, Qbert crafted an especially ambitious concept for his first official solo debut. As Mike tells it, he had some extra tracks left over, which he gave to Qbert. “And he fuckin’, just like, went crazy on those beats. And then, yeah. It became \u003cem>Wave Twisters\u003c/em>.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952250\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 600px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952250\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/R-16932444-1610670653-3566.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"600\" height=\"600\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/R-16932444-1610670653-3566.jpg 600w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/R-16932444-1610670653-3566-160x160.jpg 160w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 600px) 100vw, 600px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">DJ Qbert’s ‘Wave Twisters,’ 1998. The album spawned a cult-classic 2001 animated film of the same name. \u003ccite>(Galactic Butt Hair Records)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003ch2>Wave Twisters, the Beasties and Beyond\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>Wave Twisters\u003c/em> holds the rare distinction of being a soundtrack around which a movie was later designed. The album received extremely positive reviews, making many music critics’ year-end lists. To this day, it’s regarded as one of the best turntablism albums of all time. Tracks like “Destination: Quasar 16.33.45.78” took ISP battle routines to new levels, imagining a battle in inner space between a heroic dental hygienist and the minions of a villain named Lord Ook. The track revels in sci-fi tropes, with vocal cues like “Attention, starship!” coloring the scratched, transformed and cut-up audio landscape.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>According to Qbert, \u003cem>Wave Twisters\u003c/em> was willed into existence. “I intentionally foresaw it because in the back of my head, I was like, I’m gonna make every song like a storyline. It’s going to be a thing. And somebody’s going to animate this. And then out of nowhere, the universe made it all work.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[aside postID='arts_13937489']Meanwhile, Mix Master Mike was setting his own intentions – around becoming a member of the Beastie Boys. A longtime fan of their music, he says, “even before I met them, I always thought I was the fourth Beastie, and I was the missing element.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>After meeting the Beasties’ MCA during a Rock Steady Crew anniversary in 1996, Mike took an unusual route to make his dreams come true. “I went up to MCA and introduced myself,” he recalls. “He knew who I was through all the competitions and the battles, and we exchanged phone numbers and went back home. And late at night, I would just leave these scratch messages on his answering machine. Two, three in the morning, just leaving these scratches on his machine, hoping that these transmissions would penetrate. Fortunately they did. \u003ca href=\"http://www.kqed.org/bayareahiphop/timeline#mix-master-mike-becomes-the-beastie-boys-dj\">And the rest is history\u003c/a>.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952251\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2560px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952251\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/Beasties.MixMasterMike.2004-scaled.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"2560\" height=\"1611\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/Beasties.MixMasterMike.2004-scaled.jpg 2560w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/Beasties.MixMasterMike.2004-800x503.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/Beasties.MixMasterMike.2004-1020x642.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/Beasties.MixMasterMike.2004-160x101.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/Beasties.MixMasterMike.2004-768x483.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/Beasties.MixMasterMike.2004-1536x967.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/Beasties.MixMasterMike.2004-2048x1289.jpg 2048w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/Beasties.MixMasterMike.2004-1920x1208.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2560px) 100vw, 2560px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">(L-R) Mixmaster Mike, Mike Diamond, Adam ‘MCA’ Yauch, and Adam ‘Ad-Rock’ Horovitz of The Beastie Boys attend the MTV Europe Music Awards 2004 at Tor di Valle Nov. 18, 2004 in Rome, Italy. \u003ccite>(Bruno Vincent/Getty Images)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Mike joined the Beasties in time for 1998’s \u003cem>Hello Nasty\u003c/em> album, remaining part of the group until MCA died of cancer in 2012 and the Beastie Boys disbanded. “So at the end of the day,” Mike says, “it’s all about power of intention, right? And my intention was to get in the band or work with the band.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>As the ’90s drew to a close, the Piklz weren’t quite done. They produced Skratchcon 2000, a scratching convention, bringing together pioneering masters and acolytes of DJ scratch music. “That was our old manager, Yogafrog,” Qbert says. “His idea to put on a convention called Scratchcon, that was a genius idea of his, and we should do a Part II. We got all the best, most popular scratchers on the planet to come through. It was huge. Steve Dee was there, even Aladdin, all the X-Ecutioners, everybody. It was amazing.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952252\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1500px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952252\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Garage.Group_.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1500\" height=\"983\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Garage.Group_.jpg 1500w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Garage.Group_-800x524.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Garage.Group_-1020x668.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Garage.Group_-160x105.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Garage.Group_-768x503.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1500px) 100vw, 1500px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">(L–R) Shortkut, D-Styles, Mix Master Mike, Yogafrog and QBert in QBert’s garage in the Excelsior District of San Francisco, 1998. \u003ccite>(Liz Hafalia /The San Francisco Chronicle via Getty Images))\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Skratchcon drew fans from all over the country, in addition to current and historic scratch DJs,for live showcases and demonstrations like DJ Radar’s introduction of scratch notation. The convention culminated with a live concert at the Fillmore Auditorium, billed at the time as the ISP’s last official performance. To this day, it stands as one of the highpoints of a decade overflowing with revolutionary developments in hip-hop DJ culture, which saw the Invisibl Skratch Piklz make history and become iconic representatives of turntablism.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>As Mix Master Mike says, “There is no ceiling to this. No, it’s whatever you think about is whatever you create and whatever you can apply.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad floatright]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter size-full wp-image-11687704\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/06/Turntable.Break_.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"60\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/06/Turntable.Break_.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/06/Turntable.Break_-400x30.jpg 400w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/06/Turntable.Break_-768x58.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003c/p>\n\n","stats":{"hasVideo":false,"hasChartOrMap":false,"hasAudio":false,"hasPolis":false,"wordCount":8314,"hasGoogleForm":false,"hasGallery":false,"hasHearkenModule":false,"iframeSrcs":[],"paragraphCount":121},"modified":1708071724,"excerpt":"A comprehensive history of the pioneering DJ crew, from Daly City garage parties to world domination.","headData":{"twImgId":"","twTitle":"","ogTitle":"","ogImgId":"","twDescription":"","description":"A comprehensive history of the pioneering DJ crew, from Daly City garage parties to world domination.","title":"How The Invisibl Skratch Piklz Put San Francisco Turntablism on the DJ Map | KQED","ogDescription":"","schema":{"@context":"http://schema.org","@type":"Article","headline":"How The Invisibl Skratch Piklz Put San Francisco Turntablism on the DJ Map","datePublished":"2024-02-14T08:53:00-08:00","dateModified":"2024-02-16T00:22:04-08:00","image":"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/02/KQED-OG-Image@1x.png"}},"guestAuthors":[],"slug":"invisibl-skratch-piklz-filipino-djs-daly-city-san-francisco-turntablism-history","status":"publish","templateType":"standard","excludeFromSiteSearch":"Include","featuredImageType":"standard","sticky":false,"articleAge":"0","path":"/arts/13952208/invisibl-skratch-piklz-filipino-djs-daly-city-san-francisco-turntablism-history","audioTrackLength":null,"parsedContent":[{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp>\u003cem>\u003cstrong>Editor’s note\u003c/strong>: This story is part of \u003c/em>\u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/bayareahiphop/\">That’s My Word\u003c/a>\u003cem>, KQED’s story series on \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/bayareahiphop/\">Bay Area hip-hop\u003c/a> history.\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>On a recent Friday night in San Francisco, a couple thousand fans of DJ culture crammed into the cavernous main room of a nightclub in Hunters Point.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Inside The Midway, it was elbow room-only from the stage to the back patio; many of those in the crowd were DJs themselves. The scene recalled the late ’90s-early 2000s glory days of the Bay Area, when turntablism seemed destined to become the Next Big Thing, and DJ nights dominated SF’s club scene. No one was there to dance; it wasn’t that kind of party.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13937762\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13937762\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-DMCBattle-28-BL-KQED.jpg\" alt=\"A person wearing a baseball cap stands at a table under fluorescent lighting.\" width=\"2000\" height=\"1333\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-DMCBattle-28-BL-KQED.jpg 2000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-DMCBattle-28-BL-KQED-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-DMCBattle-28-BL-KQED-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-DMCBattle-28-BL-KQED-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-DMCBattle-28-BL-KQED-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-DMCBattle-28-BL-KQED-1536x1024.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-DMCBattle-28-BL-KQED-1920x1280.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2000px) 100vw, 2000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">DJ Qbert performs with Invisibl Skratch Piklz during the DMC World DJ Finals at The Midway in San Francisco, Calif., on Nov. 3, 2023. \u003ccite>(Beth LaBerge/KQED)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>The occasion was the DMC World Championship DJ Battle Finals, with some of the best DJs in the world competing against each other. But there was another attraction too: live showcases by the Invisibl Skratch Piklz and Mix Master Mike, the legendary DJs who transformed the Bay Area into a turntablist Mecca during a seminal era for local hip-hop. DMC event organizer Christie Zee put the proceedings into their proper context: “You can’t have a battle in the Bay without the Skratch Piklz.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>As midnight approached, the lights dimmed, and the Piklz – Qbert, Shortkut and D-Styles – were announced to cheers that echoed throughout the high-ceilinged room. The Piklz opened with the 2015 ISP track “Fresh Out of FVCKs,” with its ominous electric organ melody that transitions into repeating melodic chords. A snare drum beat came in, followed by a rhythmically scratched snippet of a stuttering vocal phrase. The electric organ chords shifted into a chopped melody as the snare dropped out, then returned. And that’s all before the mind-bending scratch solos that followed.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"","name":"ad","attributes":{"named":{"label":"fullwidth"},"numeric":["fullwidth"]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The Piklz proceeded to display their musicality, keeping their technical acumen within the groove pocket with synchronized timing. As is customary with the Piklz, each played the part of a specific instrumentalist: D-Styles as the keyboardist, Shortkut as the drummer, and Qbert as the scratch soloist.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952244\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1920px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952244\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/MMM_DJ_mixer_PhotobyJeffStrawBranding-2275.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1920\" height=\"1280\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/MMM_DJ_mixer_PhotobyJeffStrawBranding-2275.jpg 1920w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/MMM_DJ_mixer_PhotobyJeffStrawBranding-2275-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/MMM_DJ_mixer_PhotobyJeffStrawBranding-2275-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/MMM_DJ_mixer_PhotobyJeffStrawBranding-2275-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/MMM_DJ_mixer_PhotobyJeffStrawBranding-2275-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/MMM_DJ_mixer_PhotobyJeffStrawBranding-2275-1536x1024.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1920px) 100vw, 1920px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Mix Master Mike at the DMC World DJ Finals at The Midway in San Francisco, Calif., on Nov. 3, 2023. \u003ccite>(Jeff Straw)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>A live version of “Death By A Thousand Paper Cuts” – a song from D-Styles’ 2019 album \u003cem>Noises In the Right Order\u003c/em> – and several unreleased ISP songs showed that \u003ca href=\"https://ccnmtl.columbia.edu/projects/jazzglossary/g/ghost_note.html\">ghost notes\u003c/a> aren’t just associated with jazz music. The turntable trio used the spaces between to impart a sense of presence and feel, a minimalist approach that allowed their scratches, cuts and juggles to resonate with maximum impact.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>This would have been a hard act to follow for anyone but Mix Master Mike. The ISP co-founder, who’s been a solo artist since 1995 or so, has a gigantic stage presence and skills to match. A one-man musical blender, MMM unleashed a maelstrom of sonic fury, with bone-crunching drums, an entire range of musical and vocal phrases, and precise turntable cuts that deconstructed the individual pieces of a live performance — only to reconstruct all the fragments into an emotionally-thrilling pastiche. After his set, when Mike was celebrated with a Lifetime Achievement Award, the honor was clearly well-deserved.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The Invisible Skratch Piklz were celebrating, too – 2023 marks their 30th anniversary – and it’s safe to say no Bay Area crew has done more to advance the DJ artform. Along with New York’s X-Ecutioners and LA’s Beat Junkies, ISP have defined the term turntablist, carving out a cultural niche that rests on a hip-hop foundation but exists in its own space.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13937759\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13937759\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-DMCBattle-13-BL-KQED.jpg\" alt=\"People stand in a crowd leaning on a barrier indoors.\" width=\"2000\" height=\"1333\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-DMCBattle-13-BL-KQED.jpg 2000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-DMCBattle-13-BL-KQED-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-DMCBattle-13-BL-KQED-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-DMCBattle-13-BL-KQED-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-DMCBattle-13-BL-KQED-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-DMCBattle-13-BL-KQED-1536x1024.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-DMCBattle-13-BL-KQED-1920x1280.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2000px) 100vw, 2000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">A crowd watches finalists compete during the DMC World DJ Finals at The Midway in San Francisco, Calif., on Nov. 3, 2023. \u003ccite>(Beth LaBerge/KQED)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>The Piklz have counted many firsts. As hip-hop’s relationship with the DJ has flipped from essential to inconsequential, they’ve maintained the DJ tradition for future generations, and extended its global reach. Over the past four decades, they’ve gone from students of the scratch to wizened masters of turntable music.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>And like most cultural icons, their backstory is involved, multilayered and fascinating.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952236\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1528px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952236\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/q.sta_.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1528\" height=\"1032\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/q.sta_.jpg 1528w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/q.sta_-800x540.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/q.sta_-1020x689.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/q.sta_-160x108.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/q.sta_-768x519.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1528px) 100vw, 1528px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">A young Qbert at a community hall mobile DJ dance party. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Shortkut)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003ch2>The Garage Party Era\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>The Invisibl Skratch Piklz story begins in what former ISP manager Alex Aquino calls the “pre-hip-hop era” of the late ’70s-early ’80s, when youth-oriented street dance intersected with pioneering mobile DJ crews and a Filipino-American tradition of garage parties.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“This was before breakdancing,” Aquino says. He recalls being 6 or 7 and seeing strutters, poppers and elements of DJ culture – including the Filipino mobile DJ crews who established a scene built around vinyl records, large stereo systems and frequent dance parties.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>One of those Filipino DJs was Apollo Novicio, a.k.a. DJ Apollo, a founding member of ISP who spent his early childhood roaming around the Mission District. By the time he reached middle school, his family had relocated to Daly City – where he likely attended some of the same parties as Aquino. “Back in the day, they’d have garage parties and there would be a DJ in the corner of the garage, set up on a washing machine and dryer and stuff like that. And at the parties, they would have popping and locking circles. Strutting, popping and locking. Breakdancing wasn’t even here yet, really. This was, I’d say, early ’80s, and that was pretty much my first exposure to the DJing and dancing element of it.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952292\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1004px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.mobiledjparty.png\" alt=\"\" width=\"1004\" height=\"674\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952292\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.mobiledjparty.png 1004w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.mobiledjparty-800x537.png 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.mobiledjparty-160x107.png 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.mobiledjparty-768x516.png 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1004px) 100vw, 1004px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Setup for a typical mobile DJ party in the early 1990s. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Shortkut)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>In 1982, Aquino remembers, a New York transplant named Oscar Sop had introduced B-boying and fat laces to the neighborhood, becoming one of the Bay Area’s first breakdancers. Meanwhile, the DJ crews were becoming more professional, and getting hired for weddings, quinceaneras, traditional Filipino celebrations and the occasional school dance party.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Apollo recalls “doing the strutting, popping, locking thing before B-boying got here.” Back then, “I didn’t even know it was hip-hop. I was such a young age. I’m like, just doing it and like, later on find out, oh, this is a hip-hop culture.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In addition to dancing being popular among Filipino youth, he remembers DJ groups proliferating at local high schools. “It was just kind of like the thing to do,” he says. “All the kids would form DJ groups.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“I don’t know how to explain (why), but there was a lot of Filipino mobile disc jockey groups,” says DJ Apollo. ”Back in the seventies, my older brothers and sisters, they used to collect music and listen to music. Everybody had to go to the record store and buy vinyl.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952212\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1030px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952212\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.mobileDJparty.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1030\" height=\"778\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.mobileDJparty.jpg 1030w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.mobileDJparty-800x604.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.mobileDJparty-1020x770.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.mobileDJparty-160x121.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.mobileDJparty-768x580.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1030px) 100vw, 1030px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">A mobile DJ party in 1991. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Shortkut)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Dr. Oliver Wang, author of \u003cem>\u003ca href=\"https://www.dukeupress.edu/legions-of-boom\">Legions of Boom: Filipino American Mobile DJ Crews in the San Francisco Bay Area\u003c/a>\u003c/em> and a professor of sociology at CSU Long Beach, explains that “the mobile DJ scene that the Piklz’ members got their start in wasn’t an exclusively Filipino phenomenon at all; there were Black, White, Latino and Chinese crews around then too. But the Fil-Am scene flourished above and beyond those other groups because they had distinct advantages coming from an immigrant community with strong social ties and large social networks.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In addition, Wang says, “Filipino American families have parties for practically any occasion — birthdays, debuts, christenings, graduations, or just plain house/garage parties for the heck of it. Importantly, those parties all wanted music, and that meant that DJs had all these opportunities to find gigs.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>By the time breakdancing became popularized through movies like \u003cem>Beat Street\u003c/em> and \u003cem>Breakin’,\u003c/em> Apollo says, “DJing was already here… there were dances every weekend, and DJ battles and showcases almost every other weekend. That’s how it was when I was growing up around the San Francisco and Daly City area in the early ’80s.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952219\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1163px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/rscdjs.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1163\" height=\"831\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952219\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/rscdjs.jpg 1163w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/rscdjs-800x572.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/rscdjs-1020x729.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/rscdjs-160x114.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/rscdjs-768x549.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1163px) 100vw, 1163px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Appearing as FM2O (Furious Minds 2 Observe), Qbert, Mix Master Mike and Apollo perform at an ‘eco-rap’ show in San Francisco, circa 1989–1990. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Apollo)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>One of the top mobile DJ crews at that time was Unlimited Sounds. “They were like the biggest group from Daly City, and they were already established,” Apollo says. Many of the crew members were older and attended Jefferson High School. Apollo remembers hanging out at Serra Bowl, becoming friends with Unlimited Sounds and gradually being drawn into the world of DJing.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“Every day after school, I would just hang out at their garage and practice,” he says. “All the equipment was there, the records were all there, the lights, everything.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Apollo saved his allowance and lunch money to buy his first set of turntables, and formed makeshift DJ crews with his friends. “We would gather our parents’ equipment, like home stereo equipment and gather it all up. I would get my parents’ home stereo system combined with my homies’ parents’ stereo system, combined with my other homie’s house system. And then we would put all the equipment together and we saw we had a DJ group.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Apollo started making mixtapes — he still remembers the first time he had enough records to make an all-hip-hop tape — and eventually became good enough to join Unlimited Sounds in 1985, who at the time had gigs all over the Bay Area. That experience gave him a solid foundation in DJing parties and playing a wide variety of records, but he was more interested in “scratching, juggling, trick-mixing — turntablism before it was even called that.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952233\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 600px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/RSC-DJs-Psycho-City-Cover.jpeg\" alt=\"\" width=\"600\" height=\"401\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952233\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/RSC-DJs-Psycho-City-Cover.jpeg 600w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/RSC-DJs-Psycho-City-Cover-160x107.jpeg 160w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 600px) 100vw, 600px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">The Rock City DJs at the famed San Francisco graffiti spot Psycho City, January 1993. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Shortkut)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Prior to joining Unlimited Sounds, Apollo had hooked up with another up-and-coming DJ who was becoming known for his pause-tape mixes and obsessive focus on scratching: Michael Anthony Schwartz, a.k.a. Mix Master Mike, a Filipino-German kid who attended Jeffferson, the same high school as Aquino and Apollo. Rather than practice the blends and beat-matching typically used at parties, though, Apollo and Mix Master Mike would “do more scratching or tricks, routines and that type of stuff.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>With those bedroom routines, a reimagining of the turntable’s possibilities had begun.\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>‘Oh, Snap — What Did We Just Do?’\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>Mix Master Mike didn’t come up in the mobile DJ scene. His early inspiration was seeing Run-DMC’s Jam Master Jay live.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Watching Jay DJ for DMC and Run, he says, he remembers thinking, “Oh, they’re using records, but they sound more like they’re a full-fledged band, you know? That was just profound to me, that he was using records and rocking the house, \u003cem>with just records\u003c/em>. And that’s when I immediately knew that’s what I wanted to be.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952222\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1732px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952222\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.MMM_.japan_.subway.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1732\" height=\"1177\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.MMM_.japan_.subway.jpg 1732w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.MMM_.japan_.subway-800x544.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.MMM_.japan_.subway-1020x693.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.MMM_.japan_.subway-160x109.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.MMM_.japan_.subway-768x522.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.MMM_.japan_.subway-1536x1044.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1732px) 100vw, 1732px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Mix Master Mike on the subway in Japan, 1993. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Alex Aquino)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Not long after Run-DMC brought their Raising Hell tour to a sold-out Oakland Coliseum arena, Apollo and Mike formed an informal DJ crew called Together With Style (not to be confused with the SF graffiti crew of the same name) and held long practice sessions in Apollo’s garage.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>But with Mike, “we did go hard on scratching and tricks and juggling – which later on turned into turntablism.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Individually, they would take turns on Apollo’s set of turntables. But one day, they decided to work in tandem — a moment that altered the course of DJ history.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>As Apollo remembers it: “Me and Mike were messing around with the turntables and… we’re like, well, let’s just do something together, since we don’t have to wait our turn (to practice). So I grabbed one turntable, and he grabbed the other turntable and we kind of just started making a beat with two records and one mixer. I got the bass kick and he grabbed the snare and we just started making a beat like, \u003cem>boom, cha, boom boom boom cha, boom boom\u003c/em>, you know? And then we’re just like, ‘Oh, snap, what did we just do? That was crazy.’”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952218\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 604px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952218\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/10423_136960922731_697132731_2526758_2429020_n.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"604\" height=\"408\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/10423_136960922731_697132731_2526758_2429020_n.jpg 604w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/10423_136960922731_697132731_2526758_2429020_n-160x108.jpg 160w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 604px) 100vw, 604px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">The Rock Steady Crew DJs in 1991. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Apollo)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Apollo and Mike would perfect the two-man routine over a period of several years, “and we just started performing it all over the place at showcases and dances, you know, wherever. People were seeing it and being amazed. We were amazed by it ourselves.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"I got the bass kick and he grabbed the snare and we just started making a beat like, boom, cha, boom boom boom cha, boom boom, you know? And then we’re just like, ‘Oh, snap, what did we just do?” ","name":"pullquote","attributes":{"named":{"size":"large","align":"center","citation":"DJ Apollo","label":""},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp> \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>One witness to the early routine was Richard Quitevis, an acquaintance of Mike and Apollo who went by the name DJ Qbert.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“Qbert saw it one time and he was amazed by it. He’s like, \u003cem>Oh, what is that?!?\u003c/em>,” Apollo says.\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>Qbert Enters the Picture\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>DJ Qbert grew up in San Francisco’s Excelsior district. Like Apollo, his first exposure to hip-hop precedes the term itself. He recalls fishing at Pier 39 at the age of 12 and seeing the Fillmore dance crew \u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=weKkAF9NdCI\">Demons of the Mind\u003c/a>. “There would be all these poppers; at the time they were called strutters. They would be playing this really fast electro music. And it was like, ‘Look at these robot-like guys in shiny little outfits with these silver hats.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Qbert was fascinated not only with the vibrant dancers, but the sounds. “I was like, ‘Man, this is crazy. I love it, but where are they getting this music from?’”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952215\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1371px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952215\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-in-bologna.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1371\" height=\"984\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-in-bologna.jpg 1371w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-in-bologna-800x574.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-in-bologna-1020x732.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-in-bologna-160x115.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-in-bologna-768x551.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1371px) 100vw, 1371px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Shortkut, Mix Master Mike and Qbert gettin’ up in Bologna, Italy. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Shortkut)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Qbert remembers early attempts at breakdancing with his friends, who fashioned their own makeshift outfits. But it was the DJ scratch – particularly the skills displayed by Mix Master Ice on UTFO’s 1985 single “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0KE3-IyLsg8\">Leader of the Pack\u003c/a>” – that really drew his interest. “I just started collecting the music, always collecting the music. And that’s what made me become a DJ.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>One day, Qbert was asked to DJ a garage party. “Everybody was about 12, 13, 14, 15, and everybody was breaking in the garage. And we were playing all my records on a big-ass giant box. Like, you open the top and you put the record in, and you just let that play. And the kids were spinning and they couldn’t control themselves. They would spin and they would spin, right into the DJ box, the turntable box. That was my first time being a mobile DJ.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>He explains his early attraction to turntables and scratching: “You could manipulate sound by grabbing (the record), moving forward and backward,” he says, imitating a scratch sound. “It was like a toy. A toy that was like a musical instrument. I didn’t even know it was a musical instrument. I was just thinking of it as like, it just sounds crazy. You just pull sound out of the air and move it, like, ‘Oh, what a weird contraption.’”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Eventually, Q joined a mobile DJ crew called Live Style Productions, and came to the attention of Apollo and Mix Master Mike, who remember going to Balboa High School to see him spin.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“Q, we just knew from around the way,” Apollo says. “We would go to different showcases on the weekends and see him perform. And so we knew about Q.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952240\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 600px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952240\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/600_us_champ_trophy.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"600\" height=\"407\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/600_us_champ_trophy.jpg 600w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/600_us_champ_trophy-160x109.jpg 160w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 600px) 100vw, 600px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Invisibl Skratch Piklz with the U.S. Championship trophy. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Shortkut)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>In 1991, Qbert entered the DMCs, winning the U.S. Championships and advancing all the way to the World Finals in London, where he took 2nd place. Aquino claims Qbert’s technical skills were so advanced, they went over most of the audience’s heads, but Qbert admits he got cocky and didn’t practice before his set: “I was sloppy,” he says. That loss instilled in him the importance of practicing, which he took to with rigorous discipline.\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>The Turntables Might Wobble\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>Hip-hop journalist and author Adisa Banjoko, a friend, recalls once being at Qbert’s house and hearing him scratch the rhythms of Rakim’s verses from Eric B. & Rakim’s “I Ain’t No Joke” – using entirely scratched tones to replicate Rakim’s stanzas. “You gotta record that,” Banjoko told Q, who just shrugged and said, “Nah, I do that all the time.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Around this time, Apollo and Mike were honing their two-man routine and making beats with the intention of forming a rap crew, with them as producers and DJs. After returning from London with his U.S. title, Qbert introduced Mike and Apollo to a rapper who used to hang out at his house named Nim-FHD.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“This is where it all comes together,” Apollo says. “Me and Mike were making beats, and we always wanted to find a voice for our beats. And so when Qbert introduced us to this rapper, and when me and Mike heard that guy’s voice, Nim’s voice, we were like, ‘Oh man, that’s the voice for our music.’”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952232\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 604px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952232\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/n1071373619_171639_1875.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"604\" height=\"416\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/n1071373619_171639_1875.jpg 604w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/n1071373619_171639_1875-160x110.jpg 160w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 604px) 100vw, 604px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">The extended crew. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Apollo)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Apollo explained his vision to Nim, and they enlisted H2O, another emcee they met through Qbert, who also joined the group. “We told Q, do you want to be a part of the ‘\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Sd5gFx001qg\">Peter Piper\u003c/a>’ routine? And he was like, overjoyed. Like, ‘Let’s do it. Absolutely, let’s do it.’ So then we’re like… why don’t we become the DJs for this group that will be the first rap group with three DJs and two rappers? And we’ll do all the beats and scratching.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>They christened themselves FM2O – an acronym for “Furious Minds To Observe” — the first iteration of what would become the Invisibl Skratch Piklz. As Mike says, “it was definitely a meant-to-be moment, when I hooked up with Q.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The group was managed by Aquino, who had left Unlimited Sounds and started throwing parties while trying to establish an independent hip-hop label, Ace Beat. While working on a demo tape, FM2O played local venues and music industry showcases like the Gavin Convention and New Music Seminar. In 1992, they appeared at the Omni in Oakland on a bill with Banjoko’s crew, Freedom T.R.O.O.P. 187, plus Organized Konfusion, Gangstarr and headliner Body Count. Epic as that lineup is, Apollo, Mike and Qbert’s orchestrated turntable segment during FM2O’s set was the absolute showstopper.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>FM2O’s music was slightly ahead of its time; in the early ’90s, “alternative hip-hop” hadn’t yet established itself in the mainstream. No hip-hop group had ever featured three DJs, all of them scratch fanatics.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>While Aquino tried unsuccessfully to secure FM2O a label deal, the DJs made moves in the battle scene.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952242\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1920px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952242\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/AAA_MMM_jacket_PhotobyJeffStrawBranding-2387.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1920\" height=\"1280\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/AAA_MMM_jacket_PhotobyJeffStrawBranding-2387.jpg 1920w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/AAA_MMM_jacket_PhotobyJeffStrawBranding-2387-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/AAA_MMM_jacket_PhotobyJeffStrawBranding-2387-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/AAA_MMM_jacket_PhotobyJeffStrawBranding-2387-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/AAA_MMM_jacket_PhotobyJeffStrawBranding-2387-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/AAA_MMM_jacket_PhotobyJeffStrawBranding-2387-1536x1024.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1920px) 100vw, 1920px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Mix Master Mike with his DMC Legend jacket at The Midway in San Francisco, 2023. \u003ccite>(Jeff Straw)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003ch2>The First Major World Titles\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>Qbert’s second-place 1991 DMC finish earned him props from Clark Kent, a well-respected New York DJ and producer of the New Music Seminar DJ Battle for World Supremacy. Kent asked Qbert to judge the 1992 battle alongside NYC heavyweights like EPMD’s DJ Scratch and Gangstarr’s DJ Premier. Mix Master Mike, meanwhile, entered as a contestant – and ended up winning the battle. (Ironically, Aquino says, instead of practicing before his routine, Mike had stayed up all night.)\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZLRprNA_GSk\">Video of the battle\u003c/a> – during which Mike performs eight different routines, besting Japan’s DJ Honda in the final showdown before taking on defending champ Supreme in a challenge match – confirms he was on a mission to crush all competition. He doubles up Word of Mouth’s “King Kut” with blinding speed and finesse, blends Schooly D and Flavor Flav phrases to dis “sucker DJs,” slows down the records to juggle entirely new beats, deconstructs the wax into a series of melodic tones, and maintains a sense of rhythmic mastery that’s chaotic and jarring but never veers out of control. Boisterous shouts from the crowd testify to Mike’s determined brilliance.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Billed as the Rocksteady DJs (with the blessing of Bronx B-boy legend Crazy Legs, from the Rock Steady Crew), Qbert, Mike and Apollo won the DMCs that same year with the “Peter Piper” routine. The following year, with DJ Apollo unavailable while touring as the Souls of Mischief’s DJ, Mike and Qbert, billed as the Dream Team, again won the DMC World Championship. Mike still remembers the anticipation and energy that went into the preparations for the battle, along with the ginseng they imbibed before their set “like Chinese martial arts masters.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952237\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 600px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/l_f99accf3c766cef703abeb72c042e21e.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"600\" height=\"397\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952237\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/l_f99accf3c766cef703abeb72c042e21e.jpg 600w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/l_f99accf3c766cef703abeb72c042e21e-160x106.jpg 160w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 600px) 100vw, 600px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Mix Master Mike, pictured at center: ‘It was a discovery. Right? ‘Oh, shit. We could take this and flip it anyway we want to,’ you know?’ \u003ccite>(Courtesy Shortkut)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>These victories were culturally significant. Not only had no West Coast DJ ever been crowned a World Champion before, but no Filipino DJ had ever placed that high in a major competition.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>To explain just how significant, it’s necessary to understand the evolution of the DJ artform.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The first development, playing “break” sections of records (known as breakbeats), was initially a clumsy needle-drop technique originated by hip-hop pioneer Kool Herc. Grandmaster Flash refined the DJ vocabulary with backspinning, cueing, cutting, punch phrasing, quick-mixing and reading the record like a clock. Grand Wizzard Theodore developed the basic scratch. Steve Dee invented the beat-juggle. But no DJ was doing synchronized team routines that reimagined the turntables as individual instruments prior to the Rocksteady DJs.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“That was an awesome thing,” Mike says. “It just started from a thought. The collective team, it was like it was a unit. We all had the same aspirations and goals of doing things people had never, ever seen or heard before. And it just spawned this whole movement. And it’s just something that we love to do. It was a discovery. Right? ‘Oh, shit. We could take this and flip it anyway we want to,’ you know? And that was the beauty of it.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952220\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2560px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952220\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan_.jackets-scaled.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"2560\" height=\"1715\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan_.jackets-scaled.jpg 2560w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan_.jackets-800x536.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan_.jackets-1020x683.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan_.jackets-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan_.jackets-768x515.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan_.jackets-1536x1029.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan_.jackets-2048x1372.jpg 2048w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan_.jackets-1920x1286.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2560px) 100vw, 2560px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Sporting championship jackets in Tokyo, 1993. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Alex Aquino)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Their succession of three major titles in two years elevated the DJ artform and raised the bar for battles. Teams of three or more DJs would soon proliferate throughout the DJ universe, and battle routines became more well-rounded, with emphasis on scratching, beat-juggling, and musicality or rhythmic coherence, as well as sheer technical ability.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>It also led to a backlash of sorts: Mike confirms that after dominating for three years in a row, his crew was politely asked to retire from the DMC competition. He characterizes the request as a “giving other people a chance to win type deal.” But to him and his other Bay Area battlers, “We felt like it wasn’t fair to us because we got a lot in the tank. Let’s go. Keep going. See how far we can go… we were ready to defend the next year. But unfortunately they wanted to make us judges.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>As it turned out, stepping away from the competitive battle scene proved to be a blessing in disguise. “After we stopped battling,” Mike says, “I was like, okay, what’s next? We’re going to make records now. I’m gonna become a full fledged artist, you know? I don’t want to be this DJ dude. I don’t want to be a DJ guy that’s playing other people’s records standing up there. We’ve done that already. I’m going to get in the studio and be a producer, and I’m going to make music out of this whole thing, like, springboard into making original compositions. And so that’s what I’m doing, to this day.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952238\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1430px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952238\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-in-Hawaii-1996.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1430\" height=\"1039\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-in-Hawaii-1996.jpg 1430w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-in-Hawaii-1996-800x581.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-in-Hawaii-1996-1020x741.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-in-Hawaii-1996-160x116.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-in-Hawaii-1996-768x558.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1430px) 100vw, 1430px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Invisibl Skratch Piklz in Hawaii, 1996. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Shortkut)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>But first, the crew needed a new name. During their time DJing for FM2O, the three DJs were collectively known as Shadow of the Prophet, or simply, The Shadow. A chance encounter with an early-career DJ Shadow – who apologetically offered to change his name – led to Qbert graciously telling him that he could keep the name “Shadow,” and that he’d change his group’s name instead. “Rocksteady DJs” and “The Dream Team” were one-offs, for the most part. They needed something catchy that also reflected who they were.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>One day it came to them. As Qbert recounts, “We was on one, and we were laughing and laughing. And I think Mix Master Mike said, “Why don’t we be called the Invisible Pickles? We were just cracking up and we were thinking about, you know, an invisible pickle.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The next day, Qbert got a call from his pal Lou Quintanilla, a.k.a. DJ Disk. “And he said, ‘How about Invisible Scratch Pickles?’ I was like, that kind of sounds dope.” (Though it may sound abstract, the name is rooted in a concrete concept: the turntable as an “invisible instrument” that could be almost any instrument – drums, guitar, vocals, anything.) The crew’s offbeat sense of humor reflected in their new name had long been evident; in 1992, they released \u003cem>Battle Breaks\u003c/em>, one of the first DJ tool records specifically designed for scratching, officially credited to the Psychedelic Scratch Bastards on the Dirt Style label. In later years they would put out various releases under an affiliate record label that they named Galactic Butt Hair.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Before settling on the new name, though, they ran it by a younger DJ who was asked to join the crew — Jonathan Cruz, a.k.a. DJ Shortkut.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952228\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1759px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952228\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.shortkut.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1759\" height=\"1193\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.shortkut.jpg 1759w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.shortkut-800x543.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.shortkut-1020x692.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.shortkut-160x109.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.shortkut-768x521.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.shortkut-1536x1042.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1759px) 100vw, 1759px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Shortkut. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Alex Aquino)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003ch2>Electro and the Art of the Quick Mix\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>Growing up in Daly City, Shortkut caught the DJ bug thanks to a Filipino mobile crew who played his 6th grade dance. He started DJing at age 13, after the local Filipino sound system culture had cycled through disco, metal, and New Wave, before arriving at hip-hop, freestyle and Miami bass.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>One of Shortkut’s first exposures to a DJ battle took place in a large hall.“There would be about four to six sound systems separately set up in the one room with their own individual sound systems. Each group would get about like 20 minutes to do their thing, and then at the end of the night, whoever won. The word got out that group won, and then that’s who everyone wanted to book for school dances or birthday parties.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Shortkut joined a crew called Just 2 Hype, which played freestyle, Miami bass and 808-laced Mantronix singles. “That’s why I think the Bay Area is specifically more scratch-DJ based,” he says, “because everyone scratched to fast beats, all the classic electro stuff.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>He also worked on perfecting the art of the quick-mix, changing up the record every four or eight bars. But records like DJ Jazzy Jeff’s “Live At Union Square” drew him into the world of scratch-mixing. “When I first started scratching, I just listened to records, basically. All the early records I used to buy, I would just try to copy what I heard on record.”\u003cbr>\nIn the late ’80s and early ’90s, he says, “I really got into embracing hip-hop” – catching up with records that hadn’t been hugely popular in the Filipino scene, and becoming further enthralled with scratching and beat-juggling. “That’s when I was first hearing about Qbert and Apollo and Mix Master Mike,” he says.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952223\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1742px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan1_.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1742\" height=\"1190\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952223\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan1_.jpg 1742w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan1_-800x546.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan1_-1020x697.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan1_-160x109.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan1_-768x525.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan1_-1536x1049.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1742px) 100vw, 1742px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">First trip to Japan, 1993. At far left is B-boy and dancer Richard Colón, a.k.a. Crazy Legs from the Rock Steady Crew. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Alex Aquino)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Back then, Apollo was the big name, being from Unlimited Sounds. “He was the party rocker. But he was kind of the B-boy out of all the Filipino guys I knew.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>As he attempted to build his DJ skills, Shortkut remembers listening to cassette tapes of Qbert scratching and mixing. Initially, he had only basic equipment, and used belt-driven turntables. “I got better once I got to direct-drives because I already knew how to handle it and have a certain feel to it.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Qbert winning the U.S. DMC Championship in 1991 was huge, he says. “We didn’t really have any role models, as a Filipino kid.” He took the win as validation – and inspiration.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“I lived about five minutes from Q’s house,” he says. “I used to go to Q’s house with the guy who taught me how to DJ. We both cold-called Q because we knew he was the one who had all the battle videos. So we would go to his house and dub the videos and while they were dubbing, me and Q would scratch.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>During this time, Shortkut says, Mike had moved to Sacramento, and Apollo was DJing for Branford Marsalis, “so I would hook up with Q and Disk a lot.” Q used to bring Shortkut and Disk along when he opened up shows in the Bay – affording the younger DJs valuable stage experience. Shortkut, Mike, and Q eventually formed a crew briefly called the Turntable Dragons, pre-ISP. Then, in 1993, Shortkut, Mike, and Q played a \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13935467/the-bomb-magazine-label-san-francisco-turntablism-djs\">Bomb Hip-Hop\u003c/a> Party – possibly the first time they had been billed as the Invisibl Skratch Piklz.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952239\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 250px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952239\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/invisblskratchp_002-h.gif\" alt=\"\" width=\"250\" height=\"250\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">The five-man crew. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Shortkut)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003ch2>‘Everyone That Worked There Was Filipino’\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>Dave Paul, publisher of \u003cem>Bomb Hip Hop Magazine\u003c/em>, coincidentally also began as a mobile DJ in 1984 with a crew called Midnight Connections. He tells a funny story about working an after-school job for Chevron. “I wasn’t that great. So they moved me from, like, the main Chevron on Geary Street over to one on California Street. And everyone that worked there was Filipino. Turned out everyone that worked there was also a DJ.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Paul knew of Apollo from Unlimited Sounds, and had seen Qbert perform a famous “Mary Had A Little Lamb” routine during a San Jose battle around 1989 or 1990. “That really got his name out,” he says.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>During the annual Gavin Convention in San Francisco, Bomb Hip Hop magazine would present live performance showcases. Paul booked the Piklz on multiple occasions, beginning in 1992, when they were still called the Rocksteady DJs.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>According to Paul, the vibe of those early performances “was always sort of the \u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kDLzGtQmMyw\">don’t-give-a-fuck style\u003c/a>. Like, things didn’t have to be clean. They were just really raw. And it was just ill. They were doing stuff that no one else was doing at the time.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_10345320\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-10345320\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2015/01/QBertMain.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"450\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2015/01/QBertMain.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2015/01/QBertMain-400x225.jpg 400w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">DJ QBert. \u003ccite>(Thud Rumble)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>After releasing a now-legendary compilation tape that featured Qbert along with a Canadian MC named Madchild, as well as local underground artists like Homeless Derelix, Blackalicious, Bored Stiff, and Mystik Journeymen, Bomb Hip Hop became a record label in 1995 with the release of \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13937489/best-bay-area-turntablism-scratch-dj-albums\">\u003cem>Return of the DJ Vol. 1\u003c/em>\u003c/a>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>That record essentially started the movement of turntablism as a musical genre. The Skratch Piklz (at that time, Qbert, Shortkut and Disk) were featured on “Invasion of the Octopus People,” while Mix Master Mike contributed his first official solo production, “Terrorwrist.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>Return of the DJ \u003c/em>evolved into a compilation series spanning multiple volumes, and inspired numerous others, like Om Records’ \u003cem>Deep Concentration\u003c/em> and Ubiquity’s \u003cem>Audio Alchemy\u003c/em> compilations. Asphodel, an alternative label known for ultra-underground somnolent, ambient, droney electronic music, signed the Skratch Piklz to a deal, which resulted in 1996’s single “Invisibl Skratch Piklz vs. Da Klamz Uv Deth,” which featured Qbert, Shortkut, and Mix Master Mike.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952246\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1938px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952246\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ezgif-3-ae00e595ca.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1938\" height=\"1882\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ezgif-3-ae00e595ca.jpg 1938w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ezgif-3-ae00e595ca-800x777.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ezgif-3-ae00e595ca-1020x991.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ezgif-3-ae00e595ca-160x155.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ezgif-3-ae00e595ca-768x746.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ezgif-3-ae00e595ca-1536x1492.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ezgif-3-ae00e595ca-1920x1865.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1938px) 100vw, 1938px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">‘Invisibl Skratch Piklz vs. Da Clamz Uv Deth,’ 1997. \u003ccite>(Asphodel Records)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>“A very strange thing about that (single) is, I had just invented scratch music,” Qbert says. “Which is this thing where every sound is scratched. Drums are scratched, the hi-hats are scratched, the snare and vocals are scratched, the chords, every single thing is scratched! No matter what is in there. So that was tracked out — like, every track was off the turntables, making a complete scratch song.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Turntablism spread quickly through San Francisco’s progressive club scene in the mid-’90s. Mark Herlihy’s art/performance collective Future Primitive established itself as an avant garde music label with a live recording of Shortkut and Cut Chemist at Cat’s Alley, on Folsom Street. An outer Tenderloin hole in the wall, Deco, became a headquarters for unfiltered, ultra-creative DJ expression in its basement, via “Many Styles” nights curated by Apollo. Qbert was part of the groundbreaking alternative hip-hop group Dr. Octagon along with producer Dan the Automator and MC Kool Keith, who recorded an indie classic that got re-released nationally by Dreamworks. To this day, Qbert’s scratch solo on Dr. Octagon’s “Earth People” stands out as a particular flashpoint, the turntable equivalent, perhaps, of the guitar solos on “Hotel California” or “Comfortably Numb.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Needless to say, it’s not an empty boast when Mix Master Mike says he and the Skratch Piklz “pretty much created this genre of music.” No one was doing it before them, and many followed in their footsteps. Locally, the Bullet Proof Scratch Hamsters (aka the Space Travelers), Supernatural Turntable Artists, and the Oakland Faders all scratched and juggled. Live bands incorporating turntablists included Live Human (DJ Quest) and Soulstice (Mei-Lwun). New York’s X-Ecutioners were probably ISP’s closest counterparts nationally, having formed in 1989. But despite their turntable innovations, even they weren’t performing or recording as a \u003cem>band\u003c/em> until after the Skratch Piklz.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952245\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1920px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952245\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/AAA_Q_ISP_11_JeffStraw-2144.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1920\" height=\"1280\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/AAA_Q_ISP_11_JeffStraw-2144.jpg 1920w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/AAA_Q_ISP_11_JeffStraw-2144-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/AAA_Q_ISP_11_JeffStraw-2144-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/AAA_Q_ISP_11_JeffStraw-2144-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/AAA_Q_ISP_11_JeffStraw-2144-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/AAA_Q_ISP_11_JeffStraw-2144-1536x1024.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1920px) 100vw, 1920px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Invisibl Skratch Piklz at the DMC World DJ Finals at The Midway in San Francisco, Calif., on Nov. 3, 2023. \u003ccite>(Jeff Straw)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Back when they were known as the X-Men, the X-Ecutioners faced off against the Piklz in a landmark 1996 battle in New York’s Manhattan Center – a contest so epic, it’s listed among \u003cem>Mixmag\u003c/em>’s \u003ca href=\"https://mixmag.net/feature/the-10-best-dj-scratch-battles-of-all-time\">Top 10 DJ Scratch Battles of All Time\u003c/a>. X-Ecutioners member and DJ historian Rob Swift says Qbert first came on his radar in 1991, when he beat X-Ecutioners founder Steve Dee to win the US DMC Finals.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“We thought he was Hawaiian,” Swift says, because Qbert appeared to be wearing a lei in the battle video. “We didn’t know that he was this Filipino DJ that came out of this Filipino community of DJs in the Bay Area. We didn’t know that there \u003cem>were\u003c/em> DJs out there.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Swift later entered the 1991 New Music Seminar battle, where Qbert was a judge; the two exchanged numbers and began calling each other and exchanging videos regularly.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>When rappers began increasingly excluding the DJ throughout the ’90s, he says he and Qbert would discuss what to do about it., “We would both be like, ‘You’ve got these rappers (not respecting the DJ). Fuck them, and we’re going to create our own DJ scene. If the music industry is going to turn their backs on DJing, we need to figure out a way to just create our own scene.’”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“And,” he adds, “that’s exactly what we did.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952225\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1759px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952225\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Lebanon.trophy.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1759\" height=\"1166\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Lebanon.trophy.jpg 1759w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Lebanon.trophy-800x530.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Lebanon.trophy-1020x676.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Lebanon.trophy-160x106.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Lebanon.trophy-768x509.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Lebanon.trophy-1536x1018.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1759px) 100vw, 1759px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Invisibl Skratch Piklz in Lebanon. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Alex Aquino)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003ch2>Enter the ITF — and D-Styles\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>When the Pilkz battled the X-Ecutioners, it was as much about gaining respect for turntable culture as it was about individual bragging rights. Though the court of public opinion is still split on who won, the battle put a spotlight on both crews. As Swift says, “We started strategizing ways to book our own tours and create all-DJ competitions (like) the ITF, the International Turntablist Federation,” who organized the historic battle.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Founded by Alex Aquino with help from Shortkut, the ITF was established in 1995 and stayed active until 2005. It was intended as a cultural organization, and as somewhat of a critique of the DMC, which had become the only major DJ competition, following the demise of the New Music Seminar.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“Without the DMC,” Aquino says, “we wouldn’t have this world stage for the guys to be on. But after Q lost that first battle, we were like, something has to change.”\u003c/p>\n\u0