Nikky Ball
It’s almost midnight. E.D.’s in the makeshift studio with walls covered in sound-insulating foam and egg cartons, floor crowded with synthesizers, machines, and microphones.
Though it’s not the most fancy studio in the world, it serves its purpose as a place for underground musicians to make their music.
“Turn up the tempo on the beat,” he says to the producer. “And add a little more snare to the drums.”
His speed contradicts the clarity of his flow, creating an aesthetically pleasing equilibrium of sound.
E.D. raps for fifteen minutes straight without stopping once. No stuttering. No hesitation. Twenty-one-year-old Pierce College student, E.D., has been rapping since he was 12 years old. “At this point it just comes natural to me,” he says, “music is my therapy, my meditation…music is my drug and I’m an addict.”
When asked about the title of his upcoming album, “A Blessing in Disguise,” which is an eclectic blend of basic hip-hop beats, jazz-like drums and a touch of rock, he replies, “It’s about how bad things balance your life out.” E.D. has had his fair share of hardship; from the ages of 10 to 14, he had already been to thirty funerals.
With a jaded strength in his voice, he says, “Death doesn’t scare me anymore; if I were to die tomorrow I know I’d have done everything I wanted to do, and this, rapping and making music, this is what I love to do.”
Hip-hop is prevalent everywhere. It can be in the way we talk, the clothes we wear, or the music we listen to. Twenty-two-year-old Mike Jones immediately grabs your attention. Although he does not sport the more commonly seen hip-hop fashion, this Pierce College freshman stands out by wearing ornate and flamboyant necklaces, which he makes himself. Each necklace represents an important aspect of his life. If there is one word that describes the underground hip-hop scene, it’s creativity. Creativity expressed through clothing, like Jones, breaking down stereotypes of the hip-hop genre mold, like E.D., or rapping about taboo topics that are generally not discussed.
Jordan Clarfield, an underground producer, is a unifying force for people of all walks of life who are trying to make music, but may not have the sufficient funds to do so.
“Sometimes people will come into the studio and they are amazing musicians with such raw talent, but they don’t have a lot of money to make their music and get it out there. I provide that possibility,” said Clarfield.
Although one may wonder why someone would go out of their way and donate their own time to help others, Clarfield, who used to be in a band, knows the troubles of finding a producer who will make good quality music on a low budget.
“One time, I had a guy come in here who was so talented but his mom was really sick and he had to pay her medical bills, so he didn’t have any money for studio time. I decided to help him out and record him for free,” Clarfield proved that a lack of riches can’t stomp on a desire to make music.
Underground hip-hop, also known as “alternative hip-hop” is more than a genre. It’s believed to be more of a culture and a way of life – a haven for artistry and creativity. Underground hip-hop can be everything from art and graffiti, to poetry and break dancing, to beat boxing, turntable mixing and free styling.
Hip-hop got its roots from jazz and blues, which utilized live instruments like drums, bass, and guitars, as opposed to the more repetitive, digitized beats of modern hip-hop.
Underground hip-hop combines all types of music genres such as jazz, blues, rock, classical and funk. Although opinions vary on who started the underground hip-hop movement, rappers such as Common, Organized Konfusion, Big Daddy Kane and KRS-One, were said to be the creators of the sound that would eventually be classified as “underground.”
Underground hip-hop musicians usually record and perform in a way similar to the original, earlier styles of hip-hop music, as opposed to their more popular commercial and mainstream counterparts today.
Hip-hop’s message has changed immensely as well, explaines 19-year-old Pierce College student, Jonathan Tinajero, who said hip-hop’s earlier message was about, “a struggle and living a hard life; modern day hip-hop is more about bitches, hoes and money.”
In the book “Rap Music and Street Consciousness,” author Cheryl L. Keyes said: “Many rap artists strive to remain “underground”, refusing to identify with a pop market and insisting that staying “real” necessitates rawness, authenticity and a continued connection with the streets.”
Underground hip-hop artists usually aren’t promoted by big record labels due to the content of their lyrics and experimental nature, often rapping about taboo and thought-provoking issues such as politics, world change, philosophy, justice, race, religion, etc.
In Immortal Technique’s song, “Harlem Streets” he addresses race issues. “You can’t read history at an illiterate stage/and you can’t raise a family on minimum wage/Why do you think most of us are locked in a cage?” Immortal raps.
The underground hip-hop culture is just that – a culture and a movement. It’s a haven for creativity, free thought and artistry with no one way to express individuality, no matter what your views, age, gender, income, or race. Like in E.D.’s song, “One Wish,” whether you’re “a man with too much sense or charisma,” or a “dose of a native, mixed with a drifter, raise up and take a risk.”
In this particular industry, it’s not “all about the Benjamins.” You’re not the fancy studio you record in or the label on your clothes. You’re not the six figures you are aspiring for or the money in your wallet. You’re not the car you drive. You’re underground.
E.D. records in Jordan Clarfield’s studio for his upcoming album,”A Blessing in Disguise.” ()
A set of turntables onstage at “The Terrace,” a venue in Pasadena where musicians of all genres come to play. ()
Pierce College student E.D. has been rapping for nine years and has the ability to freestyle for fifteen minutes straight without hesitation. ()
