Cold beat connected to the street's cold heat is what's hovering over my head's single lyrical soliloquy. I step off the bus busting buried thoughts out of a lost boy of buoyant verbal analyzations, only to run across another so-called "MC" attempting to mesmerize the city. The difference in our style creates a melodic harmony as we pass each other. This is underground hiphop. But why doesn't hiphop stay underground? Well, dead presidents' smiles plastered over chemical-coated paper placed over the bar code will disarm most any aspiring lyricist, DJ, or devoted musician. Money talks and shit walks is how the old expression goes. If a rapper, DJ, or musician makes it into the exploited video and radio world of big-time monopolized record agencies, it doesn't mean they're weak at their rhymes, beats, or guitar licks; it's just the fact that they have no say in the process of creating their musical image.
There are plenty of dope MCs on BET and MTV, such as Outkast, Mystikal, Eminem, and E-40. All these cats have paid their dues to get where they're at, and if you hate on them, then I can tell you where you should go to get "hater" tattooed on your forehead. So what's the problem with these MCs, and what's the big fucking deal, you ask? Go listen to these records and you'll see that, other than Outkast (whose best album is still Atliens), these rappers don't say shit worth listening to. Oh sure, they have really neat styles that could impress your mother at the dinner table, but ask for the written lyrics and there might be nothing more profound in their words than you would find in your sister's diary. So now, back to the underground.
Parliament, Sugar Hill Gang, Afrika Bambaataa, KRS-One, Run DMC, Public Enemy are just a few of the cats who've had their eyes on the prize of what hiphop could be if we remain solid in transforming this young art form. But why didn't I buy the latest Run DMC album? Because I could go into the studio on acid, mushrooms, and Vicodin and record a better track if the right beats were available. Cats in the mainstream don't give a whole lot to the flow because they really don't have to, according to the general public of idiot suburban white kids. Does the census make these guys suck? Hell, no. They do all that on their own. There are still cats beneath your feet who will blow your mind away and then give it back to you.
Underground sounds are all I can listen to as an MC because they are the only ones putting true originality into their styles and still keeping their lyrics clever enough to match their well-constructed beats. Aceyalone, Abstract Rude, Atmosphere, Kool Keith, Motion Man are just a miniscule fraction of sick artists out there. Hell, most of the stuff I listen to is from friends, "real" underground hiphop. What do y'all know about OTC, or maybe Elephant Smiley, probably not a damn thing for these cats who claim to be hiphoppers. Like Tupac, "I ain't mad at yea," but instead of sitting in front of your damn televised memetics trainer watching MTV, you need to pick your ass up and go to Second Avenue records and ask one of the well-informed clerks, "What's good underground, in your opinion?" If you don't look like a poser they might tell you, or you could walk out with MC Serch and Hammer, ha haa. Here are a few of my favorites to get you started. Aceyalone: Book of Human Language; Atmosphere: Overcast and Lucy Ford; Kool Keith: First Come, First Served; Kool Keith and Motion Man: Masters of Illusion; Busdriver: Memoirs of an Elephant Man--this cat came out of Project Blowed like Aceyalone, so even if you don't like him, you have to give him respect. Another Project Blowed compilation you need to have: Beneath the Surface. I read in a paper somewhere that this album was just brain candy; well, don't listen to an unsophisticated hater like that, I'll wipe my ass with their article. Also, a must-have for any underground hiphopper: Cater to the DJs. Now, I'm not trying to start an underground trend, so if you're a poser and you know it clap your hands and act like you didn't read this article, you prick. Love to all real underground MCs, DJs, and Musicians. One love to all Slam Poets, y'all sick just as well.