If you look at a lot of the celebrated photographs from the heady days of Graffiti and Disco and Breakin’ and a then-nascent Hip-Hop, you’ll often see this lone, beautiful cat, fascinated, bemused and generally lost in the moments between the moments as he watches and listens as the DJ, maybe with an MC, goes about the noble business of re-threading the groove. I’ve always identified with the young man in those images, having logged my time during my adolescence watching the DJ…of course, that man who called himself Rammellzee did things I and so many others never did ’cause we were too young or never had the guts, from his self-expression to the stealthy art of getting UP….If you had to place him in that mighty, iconic generation of the 70s and 80s, you might say that somewhere between Basquiat’s inner-conflict (perhaps minus the hubris) and Fab Five Freddy’s knowledgeable impresario (perhaps minus the non-stop flash), this hermetic sage who’d gotten up musically, on trains, with sculpture, plus whole lot of philosophizing, was a man among men, respected in many ways, like no other. Here’s a clip (which I’m sure many others will post today) in which he speaks about the formation of the letter — but in reality, he’s in a deep, anguished reflection about a city that never was what it really should have been for its oppressed peoples, who loved it mightily nonetheless…and about a time long gone by. At the 2:09 mark, when he says “…a culture is done…we lived it…You…” then emits a sniffle and stabbing gasp, quickly re-gathering himself with a firm “Yeah”, is a moment when I always lose it. And to his beautiful, pioneering, creative and reflective life, I say also “Yeah”. YES. Thank you son, brother, father, cousin, stranger, unsung hero for living and creating, and knowing tormenting secrets about how things really work in this town. But they won’t always be that way, and the things you said and did, the pangs of realization you knew, will have an immeasurable impact on many histories, including the history of New York, which is yet to be fully written by its natives. It was you who provided a new alphabet, and we’re still catching up. R.I.P. RAMMΣLLZΣΣ
“Fame. Name-Fame. I live at this street, talk with me”
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