I always love coming home from a road trip. There are always surprises and
unexpected incidents that most certainly add flavor and character to our out-
of-town adventures. On our last day in NYC before leaving, things started to
get a little touchy betwixt the Blaqman & Animal. Thank God we never have to
share a hotel room! Neither of us are Gay and I ain't tryin' to see no other
man's "Garbage". Plus, both of us snore like a night-time concerto. But after
a few wrong subway trains to Queens & Uptown, the Animal was more than a
little bit irate! That coupled with the fact that we found out the night
before that we'd be leaving on a 10:00 A.M. flight instead of the Noon flight
originally scheduled meant that we had to check out the hotel at 8:00 A.M.
that last day and get in the towncar waiting to whizz us away to JFK.
That meant we had to pack it up & pack `em in. Of course, we didn't hit the
sack `til like 3:30 A.M. and I forgot to request that wake-up call at 7:20.
But I did pack everything perfectly and took my shower the night before. Alls
I had to do was roll out the bed, put on my threads, and sign on the dotted
line downstairs. Not the Animal tho. First off, he wakes me up at 8:12 sayin'
"What the fuck happenned to my WAKE UP CALL!?!". I tell him, "Just meet me
downstairs in 15 minutes". So at about 8:44, I have to get out the towncar, go
back up to the 8th floor, and assist Crocodile Dunn to get his ish out the
building. I didn't want to see a reversal happen like when we fist tried to
leave L.A. So as we sat there in early-morning traffic trying to get outta
Manhattan, me & P were quietly fuming at one another with the same thought in
our heads; "Are we gonna make the fricking flight?" Once we got thru that
tunnel, it was smooth sailing the rest of the way. Of couse, the curbside
cracker at Check-in wasn't going for the ol', "I'm Meshack Blaq, even though
my ID says Michael Clark. See, just look at this article in the Kronick
Magazine". I got sent inside to run that on a Sistah behind the counter. Guess
the magazine really does carry a lil' weight in the Real World! But here's
where the REAL DRAMA begins. A couple of days earlier I was going thru my
boxes of Kron designated for NY (while in NY), when I ran accross what are
called in Publishing "a misplaced signature"- all that means to you, the
reader, is page 21 was next to page 43 and everything else was fucked up in
the page order. Thus, to you it makes no sense. To me it makes me yell at my
printer from 3,000 miles away. So I had the choice of A) throw away the half
box and charge it to the Game, or B) bring `em back with me and shove them up
my printer's ass. I chose B. That posed a problem. It meant I had to put them
in my Shorty's backpack and check the pack (with tapes & recorder) on the
plane as non-carry-on.
|"Home Sweet Home"
So as soon as we board the plane, who is sitting alone in first class? None
other than my old buddy Nas. As in Nasty to Esco? As in, "Whaddup Fam? Can we
holla at you on the plane?" Which turned into the Animal having to come to the
Blaqman's rescue. He had his recorder and camera on him. GREAT THINKING PAUL!
I owe you a gang of one's for that alone! Funny thing is, no one except one
Brotha flight attendant knew who was on the plane besides us. Suffice it to
say that by the time we landed, every attendant on the plane was not only
dick-ridin' Nas for autographs (on the Prodigy cover of Kron, no doubt!), but
also giving the Blaqman a box of Godiva choclate, a bottle of Grandin
champagne, a couple of joints of Courvoisier, a champagne & sugar handscrub
(Word!), and some Mrs. Field cookies for the Animal. Ahhite!! A Noogie felt
like a major celeb my-damn-self!
Getting off the plane was a whole `notha story altogether. The shorty's
backpack came up missing! I could give two fucks about a backpack, some chips,
a recorder, and some fucked up `zines. But those tapes had the whole next
issue and parts of the one after that on `em and were irreplacable!!!
Invaluable even!! Priceless almost...
But the goshdern bag was on the next flight and this story has a happy ending
after all. The lesson learned? Always keep the the jewels close to your
person- NEVER trust anyone with your ish but Dolo. Naamean? Delf, Kid.
Do you realize how blessed we actually are??? N-A-S. Ya Smell?
OK, so I've been away for a few days. What? You wanna pop shit, Kid?
Don't be tryin' ta Sun me, Son. You forget who gave you power? And you
used to look so cute in diapers, Nukka! Yea, I took a few days off due
to the general fatigue that comes with running around in an attempt to
get more done than humanly possible in a city stacked as high as it is
long & wide. Therefore, allow me to backtrack. First of all, I'm
disappointed at the lack of folks tuning into yours truly. The guestbook
is looking quite janky with crazy-old entries. My people's if ya wit'
me, where ya at!? Seems as though the self-promoting website Ad in the
mag was more effective at first and strait null & void in it's absence.
Starting off with Monday morning, our last-minute Sponsor picked us and
our luggage up in grand style. No sooner than we checked out of the
Ameritania dookey-pit we were off to the Bronx in a towncar. Our lovely
publicist (who in herself is a work of art; an unfinished masterpiece,
no doubt!) had us whizzed up the Westside Hwy to Jimmy's Bronx cafe. And
let me be the first to tell you guys back home: Jimmy's is THE PLACE
EVERYONE stops by when they visit the Bronx. You name it, from the
entire New York Yankees, to Vice Pres. Gore, to every known MAJOR Playa
in Hip Hip, Jimmy's Runs T'ings in the BX. It was an eye-popping display
of Boriquan Pride and I'd have to say that the Blaqman & Chan felt like
no less than delegates from the West breaking bread with our NY Latino &
Black brethren. We were treated like Fam, to say the least. And who did
we do the sit-down with, you ask? None other than all 6 members of the
Terror Squad. If you ain't be knowin', I WILL NOT tell!
After filling our bellies with more appetizers and Puerto Rican cuisine
than all of us could muster, along with some practical jokes along the
lines of, "go over there and check the picture of me when I was skinny".
That little setup had us drinking vinegar beer when we returned, on some
"spike the drink, spill the salt in your plate" ish. That and a little
lacing of gear for back home made eyeethang quite "Official".That's the
new top-dog term reserved for when something is only the "Johnniest".
Alright, I give up, I can't really shout-out FJ560 without giving thanks
to Armageddon (Set-it-off or End-it-up , you choose) Young Prospect (the
Angry Black Youth), Triple Seis (the Devil made him do it), Cuban Link
(take your bitch, then kill you), Big Pun (a Lover & a Joker) and Fat
Joe (the Don Cartagena fa REAL!!)
After that, our sweet Publicist took us to our new & improved locale.
Namely the "W" Hotel which is located right accross the street from the
Waldorf Astoria, where incidentally on the night we arrived, someone was
murdered in that piece and the murderer caught a plane to Brazil before
Anyone found the body. Sick, huh? So we checked into our palace that had
some very-close-to-the-Paramount standards with BIGGER ROOMS. Word! But
even though they had a mini-bar (with no lil' bottles of the hard-hol)
and a vee-cee-are-a, they DID NOT HAVE MTV!!! But no complainin'
happenin' ova here... No Sirreee! Later that night we went t o the DJ
Premiere B-Day bash at the Spybar downtown in Soho. Shit was
Madd-asthetical with the whole interior design thang jumpin' off to the
max. Only problem was, it was bananas with all the damn swordsmen. There
just weren't enough cups to go around for everyone. Nice eye candy
though, and I did get to link with Mami from the Redman video. You know
the one who flips over the car off her bike? BUT IT WAS STRICTLY ON SOME
BUSINESS SHIT. I swear! I'll be the first to admit that time has a way
of catching up to you in the form of fatigue, especially when you ain't
used to runnin' on 3 hours of sleep and janky assed NY deli food. $5
bucks a pound, G! I'm sayin'...Anywhat, we bounced `round midnight and
got a good night's rest. That is of course, after I took mad party pics
of all the celebs I ran into in the speeznot. The next day we got up and
had a meeting with a clothing line at the Empire State Building. Up on
the 65th floor, we really got to see why that muglie is called the
"Empire State". You can pretty-much see everything for miles in each
direction. Shiz iz ridiculous! After that we had to meet Guru & Primo in
an half an hour up at D&D. When we got there, we were told that the
interview would be on that day and the Cover photos would be the
following day. Why? I still don't know. So I did my part and after the
obligatory waiting game (that consists of anywhere between 2-4 hours of
"hurry up & wait") we were out: 1/2 of our 2nd Mission Accomplished.
That's when we ran into our usual NYC snafu- no matter how much Laa we
may bring, we always seem to run out with just over a day left to work
out the kinks. So what did we do? Well, it seems that everytime I'm in
the city that never sleeps, I run into an old friend. In this case, it
was my man Alchemist, formerly of the Whooligans. He was up at D&D
tightening up some tracks he's got coming out the gates for `99.He
blessed us and we blessed him back! Naamean? In the process of building
with Al, we linked with 8-Off at the same time. Once our Kulcha Cipha
was Borne and the tape was on record, the outcome will soon hit our
pages. When we got back in for the night, it was already 4:20 A.M.
From all indications our last day seemed to be the easiest ; all we had
to do was a Photo Shoot. And my part was for the most part done. Or so
we thought... First, we hit up Wu Wear. They laced us with a little
somethin-somethin' and we were out. Or so we thought. When we got to D&D
an hour & 1/2 late, the artists still weren't there. So I bounced to
pick up our Esco gear. Or so I thought. When I got there, the cupboard
was almost bare from all the Rappers that showed up unannounced and ran
thru our shit like it was an after-Xmass sale. Good lookin' though! Like
everything else, this is just the beginning. By the time I got back to
D&D, shit was ready to happen and the Animal went to work with Gang
Starr for that Cover piece. In the Meantime, there were madd hungry Hip
Hop heads in that joint. So me & P interviewed & shot em. By the time we
left the building, Afu Ra, Group Home, and M.O.P. all got touched by
the Kronick. But it ain't over yet! No sooner than we had stepped off
the train and grabbed yet another random deli meal, our friend from Wu
Wear was waiting outside the Hotel with a car destined for Jersey. We
had one more interview to complete with a well-established up-&-coming
Producer by the name of Grease. His stats were highly impressive, so we
came, saw, and conquered. Now I'm here in my room finishing this Daily,
and packing all my goodies to go home in the morn. A 7:20 wake-up call
and a towncar waiting outside are what I most look forward too. My
comfortable, but cold floor back home as well as my sweet Kali Kronick
See ya in L.A.!
Sometimes I think this shit is too easy! What I mean is, when else can
you e-mail somebody you never met or spoke to before and end up with a
free gourmet meal at one of NYCís finest eateries?
|"Easier Said Than Done"
But allow me to digress... I said before that I wouldnít complain about
my last-minute Sponsor, so I wonít. But as I hold my nose and avoid
inhaling the fonkee aromas from this janky-ass Ameritania Hotel, I just
gotta tell this story. It has to do with the SHIT I went thru today,
LITERALLY! See, I donít usually share my doo-dew tales with the general
public, but this is one I just cannot resist.
OK, yesterday when I woke up in the morning I had these terrible cramps
from all the Becks & Heineken the night before, not t mention the
day-old fried fish I ate that Midnight before retiring. So I wake up
with the shits and eventually miss my flight due to the crappy
disposition I was in. So as soon as we step off the elevator to enter
our Hotel rooms last night, something in the air made me wanna go grunt;
as in bowel movement. It wasnít until this morning when I woke up with
the same dookey cramps from all the beer, pizza & fries I had eaten that
previous day & night that I started to notice the fragrance of
Stankitude permeating my room. Surely the dump I took the night before
couldnít still be lingering, could it?
To make matters worse, my just-below-the-penthouse toilet wasnít
functioning properly which caused me to call down to the reception-desk
and ask for another "smoking room" because my toilet wasnít working
right. I was told to move from the 12th to the 3rd floor. FUCK THAT! No
way was I gonna be 8 floors below Paul. Iím the Neeya in charge!! So
what I did was go downstairs and take the room key on some, "Iím gonna
look at the room and if I donít like it, Iíll stay where Iím at. Just
send up a maintenance guy to fix the unflushing toilet." So what did I
do? I took a shit in the new room and returned the key, thatís what!!!
To make a bad situation worse, Paul asks me if I smell something strange
in the hallways. My response was, "Yea, it smells like backed up
plumming in the worst way!!"
Now back to tonight. We interviewed The Controls at a restaurant called
Clementines right by Washington Square Park in Greenwich Village. Shit
was Dizznope! The food that is. The kids from The Controls consist of a
guy & girl, both 21, with broad eyes and low expectations from this
Industry: perfect for Kronick! So we interviewed `em and had `em come
back to our Hotel. After puffiní a bean with their label GM, and having
him damn-near collapse from the Kali-Kron, we took pics of the kids and
sent them on their way. The lesson learned? Itís twofold: 1) make sure
that you have a backup plan for accomodations WELL IN ADVANCE, and 2)
NEVER get a suit from a RECORD COMPANY high. You may get caught up in
a cesspool of shit either way. In your nose or all over you ass like a
bad lawsuit. Naamean?
Talk to you kiddies tommorrow. Weíre off to some downtown Hip Hop spot
called The Front.
Oh my goodness, only in NYC can I sleep in `til 3:00 PM on a weekend and
not feel guilty. I mean, in a town that just gets going when everything
back home shuts down, is not exactly our cure for jetlag. I was fucking
exhausted after staying out `til 4:20 in the morning. And when we left
Twilo, Roni Size was just midway thru his set with Jumping Jack Frost
awaiting his turn on those emblazoned decks of steel. Iím sayiní, these
muhífuckas in NY know how to Party!!!
|"Everyday is Saturday"
Lemme just recap the recap- Everything moved so fast once we got off the
plane that by the time we looked up and caught our breath, we were once
again walking in the wrong direction to the club at 12:30 AM. We ended
up at the spot where Stretch Armstrong spun when we were supposed to be
at the Roni Size show. So, six blocks up the street we walked , got in
the line that wasnít wrapped around the block (good looking Backspin
Media!), and sneaked the camera into the venue. A little fast-talk and
handover of the Ghostface issue got me thru without so much as a
patdown. And believe me, they were runniní thru fools pockets like
thieves. On top of that, they were runniní an inquisition that wouldíve
made the Spanish proud. Somewhere between three spilled beers, a gang of
Hip Nips (Read: Asians in the ďKnowĒ), and some English dude named Paul
buying my replacement beers, security tried to rush Animal and
confiscate our digicam. So a lot more lyrics were reqired to stay in the
spot. Youíll have to wait for the gallery or Road Fools to see the shots
though. Ainít nothiní like this in L.A.!
Lastly, I promised my last minute sponsor that I wouldnít bitch about
the accommodations, so I wonít. But I could. Then again, Iíve got a lot
to be thankful for. We ainít paying for no Howard Johnsons or Days Inn.
Then again, we ainít at the Paramount. Alls I got to say is the rooms
are twice the size but not half as nice. And Iíll leave it off at that,
B. Tonite we have din-din with The Controls at a place called
Clementineís Downtown. WORD! Iím lookiní forward to our first real meal
in the NY. Not Mickey Dís and definitely NO PIZZA! We had both yesterday
(hopefully the first & last time). Why does a meal out here cost no less
than a dime-piece?
So Iím sitting here in a NYC hotel room reflecting on the past dayís
events. First of all, we missed our 9 A.M. flight at LAX and didnít
leave until 11:30. But the good thing is that our last minute hookup
came thru with Hotel rooms for the weekend! Good looking, Terror Squad.
So we arrived with a driver waiting for us at the airport. He whips us
into town (in the towncar) while me & P puffed a half-a-blunt in the
backseat talkiní bout how it feels to be ďMade MenĒ in NY. We get to the
Ameritania Hotel and the baldheaded Blackman at the front desk gives me
the old, What are you doing here?Ē vibes before we could check in. Once
we did check in, no MTV, no ashtrays, and no mini-bar? Oh well, thatís
what happens with less than 24 hourís notice. I ainít madd!!
But not to worry. Airport security notwithstanding, we made it to the
rotten apple without a worry, nor care. $300.00 a piece spending money,
and a lotta work ahead makes us look forward to any challenge. I mean,
all expenses paid except meals and cab fare? How would you feel? So with
Blunt in hand, let me recount the ways of the day... All the shit that
coulda went wrong, didnít happen! Once again, the Blaqman made a miracle
out of a potential disaster. I had to knock myself out on the plane due
to all the turbulence of that nasty winter storm we passed over. Kinda
reminds me of the Roni Size show tonite at Twilo: partially wack before
DJ Die & Roni set it off, and heavily thunderous once we got to the
point of no return.
So once we got to our destination, it was all about setting up shoppe.
Hot 97 says Funk Flex and Biggie still run the NYC airwaves. Atlantic
Records came thru like champions, and Fat Joe gets the big ups for the
weekend for setting us up like Kings! Word up until tomorrow,
It never fails I tell ya. It was 8:45 and we were jetting down LaBrea
blvd towards LAX to catch a 9:00 flight bound for the NY. I could tell
from the back seat that Meshack was an unstable mixture of fatigue,
anxiousness, and just plain early morniní crankyness. I pride myself on
my accuracy in time management, and with 15 minutes and counting I could
tell we werenít gonna make our flight. With about 7 minutes before the
scheduled takeoff I started letting out sighs of frustration while
Meshackís mom put the pedal to the metal. Iím sorry dude, I was just a
little irate due to the Blaqmanís delinquent habits. Oh well, I guess it
just wouldnít be Kronick if we were on time.
|"Kronick Delay" guest starring Animal Chan
After we boarded the 11:30 flight, we were both konked out from being
mad at ourselves. The flight was bumpy, but we both managed to get some
rest. I canít describe the feeling of walking into the baggage claim
area and then being flaged down by a paid chouffer waving a sign with
your name on it. Thatís what I love about coming to NY. Nobody over here
knows who I am. Nobody over here knows about the Coolio issue, Iím just
faceless photographer with dope skate shoes to them. When the publicists
take us out for drinks and dinner at the Shark Bar, they donít
necisarilly know that back in LA I only order from the 99 cent menu at
Jack In The Box.
Anyways, after we checked in and smoked our traditional ďweíre in NY!Ē
blunts we went to some crazy club near the Tunnel to see Roni Size and
Jumping Jack Frost. Speaking of Jack Frost, itís fucking cold out here!
Iím talking about bubble goose and long Johns, kid! But back to that DJ
thing; Iím begining to be able to tell the difference between a good and
a bad Drum & Bass DJ. Itís hard for me to explain because itís not my
forte (likeJohn), but the first 2 fools who were spinning sucked big
time. I felt like I was on bad E at a rave in the Inland Empire for
about an hour and a half. We were just about to leave the
techno-hell-hole when Roni came on. We had to stay, no matter how sick I
was of seeing extreme glow stick maneuvers. One t hing I have to say is
that NY heads seems more receptive to that olí progressive D&B / Jungle
thing than LA. Thatís not always a good thing though. To me the scene
here looks more mainstreamed out. I donít know, ask Raymond Roker or
Thatís it! Iím tired. Must sleep in.
Hi, my name is... I got MTV on and it's 2:14 AM on Friday. I'm going to board
a plane in less than 7 hours and I always get the jitters flying, no matter
how many times I've done it before. I try to think about it as a long Car ride
in the air without the other cars. But after that last trip form the Bay on
Southwest with those four F-16 fighter escorts didn't make me any more comfy
than I was already un.
Then again, the anticipation and excitement of going back to NY for the third
time in 9 months has got me giddy like a little kid. After all, I can't help
but think we get the full-on Rock/Rap star treatment with the hotels and
towncars waiting at the airport, not to mention plane rides here and there and
everywhere. Everything but the sex & drugs. Well maybe not...
So I haven't been online in a few days. That's because I have business to take
care of! We're trying to meet something called deadlines which are our
lifeline to revenue. In case you didn't notice, the cost of living is always
on the rise and quality is the name of the Game in 2000. So take notes. By the
way, thank you Fresh Jive. Thank you DVS & Matix. Thank you Axion. And thank
you Osiris. This Road Fools belongs to you! We'll rep the Gear with pride and
warmth in that freezing-ass weather!
So yea, we'll be broadcasting to you live online from New York for the next
week. And yes, I will be giving you all an entry per day, everyday. OK? Now
get off my back, you ravaging pack of wolves, you!
OK, I'll be the first to admit that everyday ain't Saturday. But when it is
and my Girl comes to town, I'm ghost like Casper! I just had to take a break
from you guys in cyberspace for a minute and get my druthers and carruthers
together before entering into a new set of weekdays. This is a BIG day indeed
(as are all the others), for tonite The Roots shall perform at the House Of
Blues. And I already know after a Lauryn Hill 3 Day weekend (Yes I got
Tickets!) that Niggaz are gonna be swingin' from they vines tonite! So screw a
Monday/slavery begins-day because I actually look forward to Mondays a lot
more these days. That's the day Payday begins!! Anyhow, I actually transcribed
the Kid Rock interview last night and was it a doozie! The guy has more pull
quotes and surprises than the average whiteboy Hipster. And uh, you'll be
pleasantly surprised to know that yours truly has an unduly largess scope when
it comes to my musical knowledge spectrum. Just call me the Black Matt
Pinfield sans the skee-ball dome.
Manyways, we got a lotta travellin' we finsta do this weekend comin' up. And a
little bit of time in this week to cover a lot of ground and get a lot done.
WORD! So I'll be checkin' in wiff ya from all over the place, fa Really!! Talk