Hip Hop Evolution

From the late '80s onward,

hip-hop was dominated by two regions,

the East and the West.

But Atlanta's rise in the mid '90s

marked the start of a new chapter in hip-hop.

A power shift to the South

that was rooted in regional pride,

and shaped by indigenous influences.

Because, all across the South,

free from preconceptions of what hip-hop could be or should be,

DJs, MCS and producers were creating the future of hip-hop...

including here: New Orleans.

New Orleans is a musical place, it's a magical place

when you talk about musicians.

You can find one on every corner.

You have so much mixture of different types of music in the city.

We call it "gumbo." You put a lot of different flavors in it, man,

and you get one big pot out of it.

It makes New Orleans unique, and people just wanna be a part of it.

As the birthplace of jazz and the home of Mardi Gras,

NOLA was bound to touch hip-hop.

This is a city where music underscores everything.

Because in New Orleans, there's music in life,

and there's music in death.

It's important to understand

that New Orleans is the most Africanized city in America.

Because the French were very lax with the slaves,

the Africans who were brought here

were able to retain a lot of African culture.

In African culture, we don't look at death as "the end,"

we look at it as the next phase,

and you're supposed to celebrate that.

"Second line" is based on a New Orleans jazz funeral,

where you have the band leading the family down to the grave site.

That's the first line, is the family and the band,

and it's very somber.

And, on the way back,

whoever else joins in,

that becomes the second line

and it's really a party.

The second line is like a magnet.

You draw all kinds of people in and they all walk in the streets together,

like, in one big ol' pile.

It's how we end off a party, with a great second line, baby.

- That's it. - Oh. Watch out, y'all.

If you go to the second line, as the band's playing,

a couple of people will pick up something and play with them.

I don't care if it's a bottle or a stick,

a screwdriver hitting on a stop sign,

they will find something just to be part of what the band's doing.

New Orleans is just related to music,

and it's just our DNA.

We move to a different beat in New Orleans.

The influence of the Mardi Gras Indians,

and the second line bands are in us every time we get ready to write a rhyme.

What it is, is a lot of chanting.

Call and response is a big part of it, right?

I love it. I'm about to show you what it is.

Alright.

When I say "Cheeky," you say "Blakk."

- I'm Cheeky. - Blakk.

- I'm Cheeky. - Blakk.

- We rockin', we rollin' with Cheeky. - Blakk.

- You movin', you groovin' with Cheeky. - Blakk.

I love the way you really sing it with Cheeky.

- Blakk. - Twerk up.

- I forgot that one already. - Twerk something.

Something... I already forgot it.

It all connects: the Mardi Gras Indians,

the second line sound.

You heard all that good stuff like that at block parties.

And it's the beat.

It's the beat that gets the feet moving,

and the hands clapping, and the people jumping.

On that note, block parties here,

were they a big thing when you were growing up?

Oh, most definitely.

You say they got a block party here,

everybody meeting at that location.

You got guys on motorbikes,

you got girls in their high shorts.

Wherever the girls go, the fellas will follow.

Block parties really used to be in the projects, you know.

We used to call it the DJ,

and that's how a lot of DJs made a name for themselves.

You know, the late, great Sabu,

he was, like, one of the first mobile DJs we had in New Orleans.

He was, like, the record man, and he would pass on your block,

and he would play records, and, you know,

he gave block parties before block parties were block parties.

Then Sabu had a baby.

He was, like, a child prodigy.

He could do everything at a young age.

I'm not surprised that he is one of the greatest producers in the game.

His love for music was just always there.

He was always trying to push the envelope.

DJ Sabu rocked block parties across New Orleans,

but his biggest legacy was right at home.

Because, while Sabu was working the turntables,

his son was watching and listening,

soaking up the game and learning the craft.

And, he'd apply all his knowledge

to set the tone for the sound of NOLA hip-hop.

My dad, Sabu, was a street DJ in New Orleans,

and his performances were crazy.

I remember my dad used to come home with 'DJ of the Year' trophies.

Early on, my dad did block parties.

I just remember my dad back-spinning Chic, "Good Times."

I had never heard the song before,

but I was just like, "Whatever the fuck that is,

I need to learn how to do that."

That was the defining moment. That record.

It was life-changing.

I practiced 24/7, all day,

get on my mom's nerves, my dad's nerves.

He a DJ, but he still going,

"Turn that shit off."

I started DJing block parties.

Now, at the time, Miami bass had started jumping off.

I noticed that everybody in New Orleans loves 808 beats.

I started bringing my 808 drum machine to the gigs,

and that caught on.

Kids would be like,

"Hey, when you gonna play the drum machine?"

This is what people wanted me to do, more than DJing.

At the time, I was working at Allen Toussaint's Sea-Saint studio.

The guy in there was like,

"Do you know any rappers?"

And I'm like, "Yeah, I know this guy, Gregory D."

So they're just like, "If y'all wanna make a song,

y'all can do it,

but it's gotta kind of sound like something New Orleans."

This is somebody's idea of how I'm gonna merge hip-hop with jazz.

And, I'm automatically going,

"If I get a chance, I'm just gonna put some 808 drums in there."

And I'm like, "It ain't gonna be no horns and all."

I laid the beat down,

and I was like,

"What if I just tripled the snares and all of that?"

The drums started sounding like,

"Well, damn, that's like a New Orleans pattern."

It came from growing up here.

I just turned this...

this 808 drum into the New Orleans second line

jazz drumming.

And so, Greg was like,

"I know how to make it traditional New Orleans buck jump."

"Buck jump" is pretty much a dance in New Orleans.

It's what you do when you second line.

It was like, "Okay, this is what classic New Orleans wanna hear."

They like, "Yeah, say something about buck jumping, about unity,

keep everybody together or whatever."

So, that's how this song came.

When I did "Buck Jump"... Let me explain this to you.

The thing about New Orleans that's so different...

You know how some people will claim the Eastside or the Westside?

They claim "wards" down here.

Third Ward, Fourth Ward,

Fifth Ward, Sixth Ward, Seventh Ward, Eighth Ward.

I took the chance. I'm like, "You know what?

I'm gonna talk about every project and every ward in New Orleans,

and I'm gonna make these motherfuckers lose their motherfucking mind

by claiming their goddamn wards."

The song was huge, but every time I played the song,

a fight would start.

"Buck jump time! That Caliope. Buck jump time! That..."

And the next minute, boom, everybody would be fighting.

But, when you played this at a party,

some preppy kids, they got off the dancefloor.

They be like, "Nah, I'm not messing with that."

Like, when that played, fights.

It's like a war call.

When this record comes on,

anybody that you have a problem with,

when that song comes on, that's the cue to go looking for him.

"Now, we 'bout to handle this right now."

They used to go off, man. This ward's going against this ward.

This ward's going against that ward.

We did the record for togetherness.

But, we opened up a door

that everybody saw that, "You know what? this shit can happen down here."

"Buck Jump Time" was a breakthrough for NOLA's hip-hop scene,

bridging the gap between New York-style hip-hop

and New Orleans' traditional rhythms and chants.

That was a logical evolution for hip-hop in The Crescent City,

But, sometimes hip-hop grows in unexpected ways,

and for NOLA,

serendipity would come in the form of an unknown record

from an unsung rap group.

"Triggerman" was just this popular song

that I started spinning.

It was from New York.

A shoutout to The Showboys.

The real name of the song was "Drag Rap,"

but we started calling it "Triggerman"

because there's one of the parts in the song