Ladies and Gentlemen!
This pic to the left is of my VERY first show I ever performed at in front of an audience. The now historical event was set in a dark, dungy, crowded, and sweaty Costa Mesa garage on one of those glorious high-school weekend nights. I gotta admit that the word ‘performance’ is definitely an understatement for this here scenario…
All that we…(my partner in crime to the right: Sean AKA 3 Kilos) did was prop up an unplugged keyboard in front of us, gave serious looks like we were veterans in the game, and played hip hop instrumentals off an Itunes playlist for the equally mysterious and infamous, god like lyricist… ‘MC CHASEY’
To our credit though, since Chasey was far to gone to recall roughly 9% his rhymes, and was instead turning the show into a colorful and vivid monologue on how bangin’ our good friends lil sister was… Me and Sean knew then what had to be done… After a deep breath, we managed to muster up our inner Ice Cube, grasp the mic by the throat like it was our destiny, and Set fire to the room. It was immediately obvious to us and all 24 in attendance that musical history was unfolding right in front of our very eyes. Sean and I MC’d the fuck out of our verses from our co-written hip hop Masterpiece: “I Got A Pair of Ballz (Remember the 808). Shit went so ludicrously hard, that within minutes, media outlets released reports that Dr. Dre could be heard clappin all the way from his mansion in da hills.
Thats a true story BTW. Just ask Dre.
So now you know the humble and mostly truthful beginnings of what would eventually become ‘FUSS’. With this sparkling gem of knowledge you possess in your fingertips… NOW! is the time to mobilize! It is your duty and responsibility to humanity to tell the world of the legend that trumped all other legends that came before. (except Legend of Zelda perhaps).
The time has come! Vacate your computer chair immediately! Get up and get movin!! Run, sprint, and leap… as fast as your legs will allow… and, from this day forward, let it be known across all the kingdom. Scream it at the top of your lungs. Nothing is more important! Tell your mom, inform your dad, write to the mailman, and most especially bestow this knowledge upon your banging lil sister that ‘FUSS’ and ’3 KILOS’ entered the game not with a milk-crate of records and a pair of 1200′s…
BUT with a microphone of steel and lyrics so razor sharp, that if he was still alive, even Biggie himself would rummage through his closet, find his jansport and re-enroll in English 101.
- – - – - – - – - -
The Mother Fuckin’ Saga Continues.
That first show changed something inside of me. It was like experiencing 100% fun imported straight from Columbia… All pure and no cut. From that night onward, I no longer was a mop topped slighty derainged teenager with my pants hangin’ at my knees (see photo above). I was now a ‘music guy’. No, I couldn’t, and still can’t play instruments properly. Nor can i read sheet music, and to drive the point home… Even to save my own life, i couldn’t sing ‘Mary Had A Little Lamb” in key… with a gun to my head and all. No way. Not a chance in Hell.
I really loved music. And though i didn’t know it at the time, but soon, it would become my life goal to prove, that a sincere love for el Musica is all thats needed (besides some heavy duty work ethic, DUH) to contribute something, just as super duper awesome as all those who came and inspired before me.
Speaking of inspiration. It’s necessary to mention my biggest creative influence in my life. Musically, visually, and everything in-between… No its not John Lennon, Ian Curtis, or Lady Gaga.
It is in fact the Angst ridden girly haired boy to my left who is so rudely giving the photogragher two reasons to fuck off. (again… see photo above)
Sean AKA 3 Kilos is by far the most talented dude I’ve ever met in my life… rivaling only me, I’d say. The only difference is he’s insanely talented at things that are useful and can and will bring him success, happiness, and other rad shit blah blah blah.
I’ve made music with this kid for something like 7 years, and i can count on one hands the times he’s sincerely given me props on one of my tunes. whether my tunes are actually piles of shit, or he see’s more potential in me, i have no idea. But i refuse to cease banging my head against my computer monitor until the day comes where he declares that I’ve made my dance floor destroyer.