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Whats
the 518?
While commercial hiphop rules the airwaves and the charts,
area collective Pitch Control works to serve the live rhyme
By
Bill Ketzer
Photos by Leif Zurmuhlen
On
Oct. 4, 2003, the Top 10 singles on the Billboard chart were,
for the first time in history, completely secured by black
artists. The Grammy nominees announced later that year were
overwhelmingly hiphop-dominated. More and more rap artists
are finding their way into high-priced endorsements with ads
in every media outlet, and much of our American teenage fashion
is informed by the superstar styles of the genre.
Locally,
youths pile into venues like Troy’s Hudson Duster on Third
Street to hear the latest beats, as they did this past Saturday
to witness an MC one-on-one freestyle elimination series with
a $500 purse for the winner. The event was sponsored in part
by Albany’s Pitch Control Music (PCM), a hiphop cooperative
which, in its short life span, has breathed life into what
once was a very disorganized and ineffective rap scene. Yet,
across the river, their labors remain largely ignored by local
media and venues. The planets seem aligned for these ambitious
young turks—so why is PCM fighting an uphill battle for recognition
in its own city?
“Some
will answer with very frank claims of racism,” says Pitch
Control cofounder Dan “Dezin8ed” Hulbert, who handles a good
chunk of the outfit’s public-relations duties. “The other
all-too-familiar response is that hiphop shows are too violent,
but we’ve been doing hiphop shows on a regular basis for two
years straight without one fight. We’ve played straight rat
holes that are usually attended by chain-smoking, three-toothed,
four-time bowling champs and packed them with first-time customers
who pay a cover [and] drink like wife beaters. . . . They
spend money and they don’t fight. You tell us what
we’re doing wrong.”
“Hiphop
has many faces to these club owners and they focus on the
ugly ones too much, but maybe rightfully so,” says Arbor Hill
native Sev Statik, Dez’s longtime partner who got his start
in hiphop with local trailblazers Master Plan in 1994. “All
we wanna do is change that image and move forward. We want
live hiphop in these venues, which means live
professional performers. We don’t wanna do a DJ party, [and]
if you look at the record, that’s always the scene with the
violence. With live hiphop there’s a different environment
than a DJ party and two totally different types of crowds.
You can’t compare the two. One is focused on the performers—the
other is focused on themselves.”
Pitch Control webmaster Atypical goes one up on that sentiment,
adding that real-life gangsters don’t patronize either outlet.
“Real thugs don’t go to shows. They don’t have time, but college
kids have time,” he says. “They are looking for stuff to do,
and right now underground hiphop is as popular as acid rock
on campuses nationwide. That is the majority of who we get
at our shows. Clubs don’t want to take the time to see that
though.”
To counter that unspoken but fairly obvious stance taken by
of many of the Capital Region’s live music venues, this core
group, joined also by rambunctious New Jersey transplant Sween
McCann, devised Pitch Control in 2000 as a resources clearinghouse
for rappers, MCs and DJs to get their music heard. Their mission
statement warns that PCM is neither a record label nor a management
company (although they will take a cut from shows sometimes
to cover expenses), but rather just an idea. And its uncomplicated
message, coupled with the unassuming nature of its leaders,
is beginning to be heard.
‘We’re
moving in a new direction for a new way of thinking . . .
building a whole scene,” explains Statik. “We inspire our
518 artists to become more involved with each other and nurture
that idea to the fullest, and we use old-school tactics to
get the word out, like flyering, telling friends, pressing
newsletters and just doing gigs anywhere we can get ’em. We’re
fighting an uphill battle, and most of our enemies are our
own ideas and ways of thinking and we’re changing that.”
“The
strategy is kind of simple: You come to my show, I’ll come
to your show. You promote me, I promote you, and pass the
word on,” says Sween, also Dez’s partner in the local hiphop
crew Fund the Mentals. “Not every artist in this area adheres
to that policy, and that drives me fuckin’ bonkers . . . but
we are slowly filtering out the dead weight. And that is making
Pitch Control way stronger.”
“When
Dez and I talked about pushing this PCM idea to our people,
we had a lot of heads wanting to get down with it,” Statik
explains. “A lot of [them] didn’t have the discipline to get
behind something that required listening to leadership with
vision and drive to see this thing through. We have an inner
core that holds PCM down, booking shows, designing the site,
doing artwork and just networking. We’ve put out over a dozen
releases through PCM and traveled all across the U.S. talking
to new people about what we’re doing here in the 518. When
it comes down to it, we started as an orgy and we slowly began
to build relationships. All of us have different characters
and different goals, but our common ground is our art. That’s
just a testament to the culture. . . . It really does bring
people to the same page.”
According
to Dez, PCM applies an open-minded strategy that is all-inclusive
and able to see the value of such coalition building, which
ultimately benefits both artists and the viability of the
local scene. “It’s up to the individual to take care of themselves,
but when they need help, they ask, and watch us all come out
of the woodwork,” he says. “Whether it’s Sev’s Web site with
all his listeners or me and Sween playing a show with the
George Muscatello Trio or Ill Type’s W. Steele every Sunday
at the Lark Tavern or our man jB on the road doing a show
at Rutgers College or wherever it is, as long as you
hear Pitch Control you know that we’re all there. And even
just shouting that out funnels all possible listeners back
to the group.”
“We
still learn every day,” explains Atypical, who originally
hails from the Finger Lakes Region. “We remain humble, which
allows us to try new things. And since jazz has been a strong
influence of hiphop, it only made sense to join forces with
local jazz talent we enjoyed watching. Adrian Cohen, Brian
Patenaude, George Muscatello and Danny Whelchel all have been
very supportive of our efforts and have even allowed us the
pleasure of performing with them on occasion. The hardcore
scene here has also been receptive to working with us. Cross-marketing
is a great avenue to take in the ever-important battle of
get-the-word-out.”
That willingness to cross-pollinate has also paid off by enhancing
the musicians’ ability to expand their scope beyond local
borders into New York City, Philadelphia, Baltimore, Chicago,
Los Angeles and other urban centers. As is the case with many
artists working on limited budgets, they rely on reciprocal
agreements with out-of-state performers for food, lodging
and gigs. Statik feels that this time-tested
mechanism is necessary and helps the movement in the long
run.
“We
have to be on point with all of our shows and our hospitality
when they come here,” he says, “so they can spread the word
about our movement and hopefully get some more networking
going on with other artists.”
Dez agrees, but like Sween he is frustrated when one hand
doesn’t always wash the other. “We’ve brought acts here that
[did] a show, got paid, and never came back,” he says. “On
the other hand, we’ve brought acts that have given us a room
to rock, toll and gas money, a place to crash. . . . And we’ve
kept in touch and have even become good friends with them,
which is a rare thing in hiphop. Everyone’s got an ego, an
opinion and a press packet.”
“The
process, both locally and out of town, has a way of filtering
the real from the fake, so I don’t really sweat it when someone
can’t return a call or doesn’t offer us a show in return,”
adds Atypical. “Karma takes care of all that eventually. We
just brush it off, learn, grow and march back into the grind.”
In the Capital Region, part of the grind is finding lesser-known
places to showcase the artists’ talent, and in actively using
those venues to scout for new MCs who have something to bring
to the table. In turn, these venues began to realize the benefits
of being amenable to a hiphop crowd.
“I
haven’t seen anyone around here turn out a hiphop night as
successful as we have,” Dez says. “Just stating fact.
On the nights when these spots have matched our promotion,
or in some cases outpromoted us, is when they’ve been the
most packed.”
“First
and foremost, we run Troy,” Sween quips. “But the Hudson Duster
is the shit. B.R. Finley’s, El Dorado—we run all these bars!”
“Sween’s
got rappers drowning in humility, I love it,” Dez retorts.
“Troy has definitely shown PCM more love than Albany, but
we’re working hard. Owners like Mike Valenti, Judy Hotaling,
Laura Paigo and [booking person] Dan Goodspeed have been nothing
but professional and gracious hosts. But the main thing is
that they do more than give us a shot. They don’t see one
bad turnout and assume we can’t draw, which has happened to
us in the past. That happens to everyone on occasion. So,
big ups to those who stuck by us, especially [Husdon Duster
owner] Mike Valenti. He’s got the best spot around here, hands
down.”
“I
never have a problem having these guys here,” says Valenti,
who bought the former Rolls Touring Company last year. The
venue hosts a wide variety of acts, including hiphop and rock
bands, comedians and just about anyone else willing to have
a go at it. “They make it work, and they’re good guys. You
know, the music isn’t exactly my thing, but whatever. That’s
not what it’s about for me.”
While the group members see Albany’s role as the ungracious
host as slowly changing (they have made inroads at the Lark
Tavern, which is under new ownership), they remain perplexed
at how little airplay they’ve received from local radio stations,
especially those with hiphoppers as a target audience. “We
always used to be up at WCDB [90.9 SUNY Albany], WRPI [91.5
RPI Troy] and even WVCR [88.3 Siena College]—we knew heads
at all these stations,” Statik claims. “Now, it’s boiled down
to DJ Toast on WRPI, Friday nights at 10 PM. Toast and C-Nyce
show a lot of support for our local MCs on the airwaves.”
“There
have been some cool folks we’ve met from Jamz 96.3 [the Pamal
Broadcasting station, which also owns WFLY] but [they are]
not the ones who can make things happen,” Dez says. “Let me
say this, though. We respect Jamz, but it won’t go any further
until they match the work we’ve put in. They’ve made it clear
that they don’t need 518 hiphop. Fine. But 518 hiphop doesn’t
need them either. We’d love to build, but that just doesn’t
seem to be the type of people they are. The invitation is
open. If they wanna make this scene better, they need to get
off their goddamn diamonds and do something.”
Statik points out that Jamz sometimes secures local artists
to open for national acts like Mr. Cheeks, Onyx and others,
but admits that getting prime-time airplay on commercial stations
is another ballgame. “We want prime-time play because we’re
legit and we have publishing,” he explains. “If it takes a
distribution from a major label, we got that from Uprock/EMI.
If it’s quality, we got that too. We have videos and songs
that air on MTV2, ESPN and in movies. We’re on releases with
Mack 10, Ice Cube, Dilated Peoples and Kirk Franklin for cryin’
out loud. What else do we need?”
Atypical says that to make matters worse, Jamz learned
of PCM’s “518” tagline to describe the local scene and overtly
pilfered it for use in their own promotional material. “They
thought it would be profitable to use it in their adverts
to show how ‘down’ they really are,” he says. “They even go
a step further and say how they are the ‘only station down
with the 518.’ Whatever. I let the rappers rap and the fakers
fake.”
Another weapon in the Pitch Control arsenal has been the art
of collaboration. Despite very marked differences in styles,
ethics and even personal beliefs (for example, Statik is devoutly
spiritual, while Dez appears obsessed with porn), there remains
very tight community here that not only supports each other,
but contributes to one another’s product.
“We
all know one thing about music in general: It’s fun,” remarks
Atypical. “So when someone you respect says, ‘Wanna get down
on my album?,’ of course you do. Free recording and a new
song to promote. Another track to put on your resume. And
that artist is doing all the work pushing it, [so]
there you are. After one recording session, being promoted
indirectly by someone else for free. Management fees need
not apply. There have also been a lot of friendships made
in the last few years here. On top of all that selfish crap
I just mentioned, there is that bond as well. That bond is
what keeps us challenging each other. “
“We
have a slew of beatmakers and song producers down for the
cause. Finer Arts, Origin Ill and Noize Mob are all conglomerates
of PCM that are ill producers in their own rights,” Sween
says. “We just take one baby step at a time.”
If the growing fan base is any indication, there seems to
be plenty of time. And while Dez understands that success
is a relative term, and that some opinions and preconceptions
are as inflexible as a sprained ankle, he says that for PCM
the bottom line will always be work ethic, combined with a
love for making music. “None of us are making any money right
now,” he says. “Not really. So you have to love what you do,
and it’s in your best personal interest to do it well.
“I’m
not trying to prove myself to anyone,” he continues. “Not
my homeys, not my enemies, not myself. Not no girls . . .
well, maybe girls, but that’s it, I swear. It’s about
enjoying what you do. Once you get caught up in other people’s
expectations and getting signed and sales and all that—that’s
when you play yourself. I mean, honestly, the really good
music isn’t on the radio or the TV. That shit is for slaves,
but there’s this really steamy ball of filth covered in band-aids
and pubic hair that has elements of jazz and punk rock at
its core and wears one of James Brown’s old capes and a pair
of shitty shell-toes and after it fell out of Kool Herc’s
asshole 30 years ago it’s been rolling from ghetto to galaxy
ever since, [and that is] real hiphop. If you wanna
know more about it you have to do more than watch cable and
read the Source.”
For
more information, contact PCM directly via e-mail at pcm518@hotmail.com
or by phone at 542-9422, or visit the group’s Web site at
www.pitchcontrolmusic.net.
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