Hip Hop – New York/Wellington Style

Tu Tangata, Issue 22, 1 February 1985, Page 2

Hip Hop - New York/Wellington Style

Nemo Adam

Is this a step on from Street Kids?

Unemployment at a record high People coming, people going, people want to die

Don’t ask me because I don’t know why

But it’s like that, and that’s the way it i 5....

Run D.M.C. [Black New York Poets)

Hip Hop... like Beatnik or Hippie subcultures has hit young Polynesians living in Wellington. Hip Hop... sprawling colourful murals, breakdancing and a funky beat. Hip Hop... Art. Music. Dancing. Talents worn anywhere, street portable. Popular not profitable. Hip Hop... youth culture born in Black New York. Hip Hop is here.

Kosmoe is a street-artist. When I first saw him he was sitting with four Home Boys (friends) in Wellington’s Manners Mall.

They were all Polynesian, probably the type you’d notice on the street and pretend you didn’t see. I watched them for awhile.

One drew grafitti in a sketch book, another watched him and the others danced around a large and colourful beatbox. I walked over and explained who I was and that I’d like to write a story on the New York style grafitti around Wellington. “Let’s go. “Take him up Lombards.... “Yeah, we’re off... we move.” And we did. To a nearby carpark, that the Home Boys described as their grafitti gallery. Kosmoe did most of the talking with the Home Boys agreeing, pointing at the works that were mostly his. We were all impressed with the artwork and I asked Kosmoe if I could interview him tomorrow, same place, 1 o’clock....

At half past he showed up in clothes similar to those of the street-artist Ramo, in the Hip Hop film ‘Beat Street’, shown here last year.

Black cords, Pony shoes and a big U.S. army issue jacket. The top half of his face was covered with black shades.

He was a little disappointed when I told him I’d forgotten to bring the camera.

I asked him questions and he answered in an American accent that didn’t drown his Samoan one. He was fluent....

“... fast throw ups... fresh, baddest... three piece Caspars....”

Kosmoe often sacrificed answers to use Hip Hop lingo, but I wasn’t complaining. I couldn’t believe I was still in New Zealand.

Our discussion was interrupted by Kosmoe’s impatient friends who began bitching him to give back their clothes.

Our chat muted we left, both happy we had just heard something new.

In the following weeks I got to know Kosmoe.

He was 18-years-old, unemployed with no qualifications. He told me he was doing an engineering course at Polytech, although he wanted to be an artist.

Living in an inner-city boarding house he said his parents lived in Los Angeles and that he had lived in the States.

I would ring him 12 o’clock most days to ask him where we would meet.

He spent most of his time hanging out with Home Boys around Wellington’s inner-city streets, spraying various buildings whenever he felt the urge.

Kosmoe was also a celebrity, winning with his Home Boys, the national BopOlympics under the name of the ‘Chain Reaction Crew’.

When it came to spraypainting they were called the ‘Bloodz’ notorious with the city council and cleaners who had to remove their “decorations” from Wellington’s walls.

And when he told me of rappers and D.J's around the city... I realised a bit of New York had influenced a bit of Wellington... Hip Hop.

Tee Pee is a D.J. He’s 21 and has been in clubs since he left Wellington College as a 16-year-old with school cert. Biology.

He lives in a state house with his mother and his stereo, his father leaving home when he was seven.

His job at two inner city clubs keeps him busy five late nights a week. When he's home he sleeps, cooks for his mother and listens to music.

Tee Pee wants experience overseas

before coming back to New Zealand to steal the club scene with his own club. The money he saves will one day buy these two dreams. I first saw Tee Pee at Victoria University Radio Active on the Wednesday night Uncut Funk Show. We waited for the Rastafarians to finish their reggae show in the studio. Tee Pee was dressed well, but wasn't out of place with Kosmoe or the Home Boys. There were more of them tonight. We were introduced.... “How’z it going my man?” A brother handshake and we were back to waiting for the Rastas. The Home Boys threw darts at Punk posters on the wall. With a blast of marijuana smoke the Rastas left the studio and the funk show was on cue. A European guy opened the first half hour playing his funk and saying his piece. A record player. When Tee Pee got amongst the equipment the show began. He had tape decks, turntables and reel to reel machines working simultaneously. On the mike he rapped off poetry while a record pumped out beats. On top of that he mixed in more beats, music, words and effects. The Home Boys could feel the energy and danced outside the studio or watched Tee Pee in action. It was New York all over again. People began to phone in thanking Tee Pee for the show, requesting songs and chatting... everyone buzzed. One guy rang up and asked, “What’s with the American accents?” “What’s with you man?” says Kosmoe. The Home Boys agree, “Yeah man”. “This is New Zealand... so why do it? That’s all.” Kosmoe and Tee Pee call the guy “Whacked” and say they’re from the States. “Bullshit man” says the caller. “Yeah you... everyone agrees... “yeah.”

“Anyway I’ve said my piece... what I wanted to say.” “Yeah, you’ve said too much.” With that a Home Boy cuts the call and laughs. Tee Pee is quiet, while everyone in the studio wonders what upset the guy. They all agree the guy was a wanker anyway. Tee Pee is still quiet. Then he picks up the mike and tells the people listening that a guy had just rang up and asked about the accents. “I’ll do a rap in a New Zealand accent... (he raps)... you see? It don’t work. Now I’ll do one in an American accent... (he raps again)... now that's why we use an American accent."

Everyone's buzzing again and the brother handshakes go flying around the studio. As for me I thought both versions sounded good. The show plays through and no more wankers ring up. Tee Pee is a very talented D.J. He says it's an artform and there’s a big difference between his sound and the average nightclub record player. He's happy imitating New York D.J’s, although the people he plays to can’t accept his fresh sound. The show ends and we walk out of the University rapping and singing. As we get closer to the club Tee Pee gets quieter. We pass walls Kosmoe says he’d like to paint. Tee Pee is not interested. At the club, Kosmoe goes with his Home Boys to meet some more downtown. Inside the club you notice the older crowd. Tee Pee puts away his electro music and plays Ready to Roll. The crowd responds instantly. He fits in a few of his skills, but not alot. No customers, no job. I’ll meet them again on Friday night at Dr. Johns, a Hip Hop club. At half past eleven things aren’t in full swing. Not many people showed up. Those that had were in their early teens out to see what a nightclub was all about. The club was unlicenced and aimed at the underage crowd. Tee Pee is D.Jing while a few people dance and others scoot between tables chatting. A Home Boy is here tonight and he introduces me to more. We all sit around a table and start looking around. Everyone seems to know that Kosmoe has arrived, his name mentioned by people near me. Two Home Boys sitting next to me hide under the table. “Don’t look down here... “Why?” “I don’t want him to see me.” That aside, Tee Pee starts playing electro and rapping off poetry, asking people to get up and dance. The music was too new. They didn’t know it, they didn’t dance. The floor was empty despite Tee Pee asking everyone why they should pay five bucks to come in and sit down. “Yeah, when I first played Chaka Khan you wouldn’t dance to it either... okay, okay you want it... we’re back to the same old shit.” The dance floor was back in action. A fight broke out in the corner between two Home Boys. They said one was aggro when he was drunk and the other had a big mouth. Tee Pee was there ripping the two apart. Tee Pee had enough and went and sat at the door of the club. The turntables were handed to a Home Boy that Tee Pee called a ‘Wanna Be’ D.J. A record player who would

play anything the crowd might like... even four times. No-one seemed to mind. As long as they knew it. Outside Tee Pee sits behind the counter telling a Home Boy how bad his night has been. The Home Boy agrees with him. He tells me he can’t stand the crowd and their negative attitudes. The fight, he says, made him leave. “I dunno... I just couldn’t handle it... that’s the first time that’s happened in ages.” “You see, they see a movie like Beat Street and say ‘Yeah that’s me, I wanna be just like that’. They call themselves Hip Hoppers but they don’t understand what it’s all about... they don’t understand.” Tee Pee is looking at the air for answers.... I ask him why the crowd didn’t dance. “People come here to have a good time. They can, I know they can... they’ve just got an attitude problem. “They’re young... insecure... worried about how they might look if they tried something new. “I tell them why I get mad... you saw me.” Tee Pee says there’s about twenty true Hip Hoppers in Wellington... the rest are just ‘Wanna Be’s’ like most of them here tonight. “I’m not gonna tell you who though.” Tee Pee wants to be the Afrika Bambaataa (leader) of a Zulu nation in New Zealand.

Tee Pee hopes his message will shine through the way he lives and his D.J. skills. “The kids don’t pull together... I figure if they cap, pull together in disco’s then maybe they will in the street. “As it is... Maori’s can’t get on with Maori’s yet... how can a race progress without unity? “Anyway most people would rather take the drugs, violence, sex package instead of believing the message... as my man Afrika Bambaataa says, you don’t need drugs to have a good time... and to fight for freedom in a peaceful way.” We all stand there silent, staring at the f100r... the Home Boy nodding. I check up some facts on Kosmoe.... “What does he do for a job?” I ask. “Nothing, he’s on the dole,” says Tee Pee. I tell them that he told me he was on an engineering course at tech, and they both laugh. “He’s lying, he’s tricky that boy... he gave up trying to get a job ages ago.” Shortly after Kosmoe comes out into the clubs foyer. “How’z the Home Boys?” “How’z the course going bro? asks Tee Pee. We all start smiling.

“Oh yeah, the course,” Kosmoe looks at the counter. “It should end soon shouldn’t it Frosty K. “Yeah, it finished last week.” And everyone’s happy again. The night goes through and Tee Pee only moves from behind the counter to tell some street-kids they can't sleep in Dr. John doorway and to take the turntables off the ‘Wanna Be’ when some Hip Hoppers start breakdancing on the floor. A few hours later, the show ends and by the sounds of things quite a few people have been behind the turntables. The tired crowd slowly shuffle their way out the doors and down the stairs, collecting bags, jackets and sunglasses from Tee Pee as they move. A few hop into awaiting taxis while the others either walk home or kill time before their 4.45 a.m. trains roll them home.

I hear ‘Hatters’ burger bar mentioned a few times and conclude this must be where Hip Hoppers recover after a night out. Back inside, the nightclub goes to bed and staff sit around out back. The boss is ordering some guy around. ‘‘Are they out?” “Yes.” ‘‘Liar, get there or I’ll kick your bloody arse.” Everyone watches the boss who is now teasing the ‘Wanna Be’ D.J. ‘‘Come on, why did you play those songs four times eh?”

‘‘Oh... the crowd requested it.” The boss laughs saying that was the same excuse Tee Pee used five years ago. Tee Pee doesn’t believe it. ‘‘Yeah maybe... but not four times.” Meanwhile, Wanna Be is taking off enough studs, leather and chains to keep a bikie happy for years. Someone suggests he should open a hardware shop instead. Soon, the club tucked in, we walk out into a wet Courteney Place. The Wanna Be walks across the road to a parked car with the boss and the guy who made the hardware remark. Tee Pee shouts to them. ‘‘Yeah you better get your act together if you wanna keep your job you Wanna Be.” The D.J. returns appropriate abuse and gets into the car. They’re off. Soon, we too disappear. When I last saw Kosmoe he was with his Home Boys, doing what he does best, hanging out. He tells me he’ll star in the Summer City entertainment-activity programme over Christmas. They’ll show Hip Hop to the world. And when I last heard from Tee Pee he had to get off the phone to look after the tea for him and his mother. He still played at two nightclubs and was still saving for his two dreams. Art. Music. Dancing. God-given talents promoted by a foreign subculture. That’s Hip Hop, Wellington style. Extra facts for curious readers....

“Kosmoe’s graffiti lettering style is similar to those used by New York street artists. An artists ‘style’ is a signature in itself.” Afrika Bambaataa (Almighty Leader) is a zulu street-name for a New York D.J. Bam for short. He grew up in the Bronx and became a celebrity at local Black nightclubs. In 1975, Bam began a Zulu Nation to organise dances. Guys were known as zulu kings and girls as zulu queens. It became popular and was used to organise break-dancing crews, rappers and graffiti artists. It soon spread to other cities in the States. When Bams best friend was accidently shot by police, he used it to promote peace and unity amongst Black youths through the Hip Hop scene. Other messages were promoted too. Anti-Drugs, Pro-Education, AntiNuclear, and so on. American negroes relate ‘zulu’ to their African roots and ‘nation’ because it is a Black nation within America. The Zulu Nation is now an international youth movement although Bam is still its undisputed leader.