Attempt #1: August 9th, 2008

It’s hot. Unbearably hot. Way too be in the desert, a heavy backpack stuffed with a tape recorder, notepad, camera and Gatorades that were swiped from the VIP section draped across your back like a superhero cape, your face protected from the harmful rays streaming down from the fireball in the sky with only an old towel and an even older New Era fitted, smack dab in the front of huge, blaring speakers bellowing out the familiar sounds of hip-hop's greatest treasures.

It’s only been a few hours into the Southern California leg of Rock The Bells festival, and fans are already feeling the effects of the San Bernardino heat. Some are stretched out across the lawn, stripped down to the barest of clothing. Others have loaded up on ridiculously expensive, multi-hued alcoholic beverages. Those that were foolish to pay extra money for VIP passes aren’t as lucky however; hundreds of them packed together tightly like sardines in the pit area near the front of the stage, antsy and agitated from the disgustingly thick mix of body heat and humidity. The energy is far beyond containable, and when Rakim [click to read] emerges to perform his medley of classics all hell breaks loose. Fans rush toward the front of the pit, anxious to get a closer shot of the original God emcee, crushing those unlucky to be in the front against the unrelenting metal guard rail. A brawl breaks out between two of them. One woman passes out from the pressure; she wouldn’t be the only one of the day.

I’m on site patiently waiting for a chance to interview The Pharcyde, the Los Angeles quadruplet that recently reunited after splitting up over a decade prior, and I’m slowly starting to feel the effects of the desert heat. Constance, their bubbly manager has been in contact with me all day; “We’re really excited to be doing the interview,” she tells me. I am as well; too bad my legs, chest and empty stomach are saying otherwise.

As I make my way backstage, I try not to be too awed in the legendary star power enveloping me: Method Man signing autographs, 9th Wonder [click to read] and Murs doing radio drops, even Michael Rappaport, who’s on hand doing a documentary on the momentous occasion. My admiration slowly transposes into agitation, my belly fighting wit itself, my quads pleading for a break from the stress. While the “special guests” Black Eyed Peas run through their earlier catalog, I notice Fatlip silently watching. Slim Kid Tre stands off in the distance silently preparing for their long-awaited performance, eyes closed while bobbing his head to a random song streaming into his ears from his iPod.

Finally, it’s show time. Bootie Brown and Imani join with the others, and all four vibrantly clash on stage while running through their legendary score. The packed house grows wilder with each song: “Ya Mama,” “She Said,” “Drop,” “Runnin’,” a cover of Bobby Brown’s “My Prerogative.” Finally the coup de grace: “Passin’ Me By.” The crowd roars in approval, animatedly reciting the lyrics. As The Pharcyde exit the stage, leaving a standing ovation, I slowly drag myself to the interview room, anxious for the meeting to take place.

I meet up with Constance backstage, where she tells me to wait in the food court while The Pharcyde run through the press rounds, as they’re particularly excited for my interview. My ribs feel as if I went a few rounds with a heavyweight boxer; my lungs can only inhale fire at this point. I try to shift around, hoping my turn comes soon. Fifteen minutes pass, then another, then another. The sounds of Mos Def are in the background while the food court slowly empties. Eventually my legs give out from the waiting; so does my patience. Frustrated and tired, I eventually join my friends to enjoy the rest of the show.

Attempt #2: August 23, 2008

After a few weeks of emails and persuasion, I manage to secure another chance for the interview, this time at the Denver incarnation of the festival. Amidst the blazing heat, subsequent thunderstorms and the madness that is the Democratic National Convention I’m holding it down at the DX booth, breaking to catch sets by Jay Electronica and Wale [click to read]. Eventually my chance arrives again, and I meet with Constance backstage again. “This time we’re not losing sight of you,” she jokes as she introduces me to each member individually.

Thirty minutes pass by and it’s finally my turn to speak with The Pharcyde, and much to my surprise legendary Hip Hop journalist Davey D is also in the room recording my sit-down. Two weeks, over a thousand miles and a different time zone later I finish what I started in Los Angeles.

“Ya Mama,” (Produced by J-Swift) [click to read]

Bootie Brown: That was Fatlip’s idea.
Fatlip: All of the songs that were sampled on the record came from one man’s record collection. I originally tried to make a beat out of one sample, but J-Swift chopped it up and turned it into the beat that it is now.
Imani: The concepts for the song came from back in the day when we used to all kick it and we just used to bag on each other. But the song wasn’t supposed to be our whole shtick, yet after we did the song people would be like, “Kick some mama jokes” like it was. That’s why we only made one song like that. In the beginning people either hated it or loved it.
Fatlip: It was our first single, and it got us a lot of attention from the industry, but it didn’t do so well commercially.
Tre: I didn’t think it was a good first single, but whatever. Continued on page 2 »