Right About Now, the Funk Soul Brother

What about those times led to the formation of D.I.T.C.?

D.I.T.C. was something that just naturally happened. It started back in the late ’80s. We were all in the same neighborhood, a block apart, each of us. Diamond lived across the street from me, and [Fat] Joe was on the corner of my block. We kicked it with Joe before he even cared about rap; he was still hustling as the neighborhood drug dealer. And Show was a block away from the projects.

So we were all together. Lots of groups purposely form and then say, “Let’s all go solo,” but we were the reverse. We were all into finding dope records, so I said we should call ourselves the Diggin’ in the Crates Crew, or D.I.T.C. for short, ’cause that’s what we did. Plus, we had our own individual styles, so forming would just make us that much stronger.

How did D.I.T.C. initially spread, and how were you guys received by the neighborhood?

I used to go to different projects and battle people. That was a reason why D.I.T.C.’s rep spread. I battled in different hoods all the time. Actually, that’s when I met AG. One day, I rolled with my friend Omar who was friends with AG. He was telling AG how nice I was, and he was gonna bring me there to battle. I ended up battling half the school! I battled a lot cats, and AG stepped up. When we battled, I remember thinking I had never seen anyone rap like him before! I mean, I was a comedian through my raps and had a style like no other, but it came to a draw when we battled. So I respected his skill and his ability to hold his own. So, once me and AG teamed up, everyone had already knew him in different parts of the neighborhood, and people knew me through different parts too. That spread our rep and people seemed to like us both.

Talk about Big L a bit. How did you meet?

At the time, I used to do mixtapes and do house parties real often. That’s when I met a DJ by the name of Buckwild. Buckwild and I used to sell our tapes to a place in Harlem on 125th [Street] called Rockin’ Will’s.

One day, I was doing an autograph signing for Funky Technician and in comes Big L. He’s tellin’ me how nice he is, and I brushed him off. [laughs] I just gave him my manager’s number, and he said, “Look man, I wanna rhyme right now for you, and if you don’t like me, you’ll never hear from me again!” I thought that was a fair deal. Make a long story short: after he finished rhyming for me, I was getting his number!

You had a record out already and had been rapping for a while by then. As someone who was a bit more experienced, how did Big L strike you? What about him caught your ear? What nuances could you hear?

He reminds me of myself, but a younger version. I put him on the phone one day and let him rhyme to AG. After that, everything took off from there. We tried to get him on and get him a record deal. But it took a while. People were calling him “Finesse Son” or “Little Finesse.” I used to have to check people all the time. People didn’t understand the advancement I saw in this dude. It took a while, but he landed a deal with Sony with the Devil’s Son demo. That demo was bananas! Everyone was like, “Who is this kid?” Of course we already knew he was dope. I ended up doing five or six cuts on his debut album.

Big L was a very smart rapper and I don’t think people give him enough credit for that. His rhymes are amazing because he’s so serious, but he can be funny too. And it’s like he’s just talking to you.

Years later, you worked with Biggie, producing “Suicidal Thoughts” on his debut. How was that experience?

Working with Biggie was like going to a comedy session! I swear, he was a comedian who also happened to be an incredible lyricist. I knew a lot of jokes were gonna be cracked and that we’re just chillin’ and workin’ together. I mean, we ended up just laughing the whole time. It felt like we were kicking it and not even working. I had the most fun working with Biggie and Big L for sure.

Having seen a lot of history and making some of your own, what are your thoughts on rap when you hear it nowadays?

The current era lacks direction and education. A lot of rappers don’t know why they want to do this. They know what they want to do it for, which is money. They do things that have been done before, and they walk around acting like they invented it. There’s also too many gimmicks right now. Rap right now is missing lyrical content. It’s more about the image and character of an artist and not what he has to say.

Do you ever stop and compare your time to the differences of the current era?

Of course I do. What hurts me the most is that, during our era, as far as our production, we had so many limitations in terms of bit rate and sampling time. But the music we created is astounding. So it wasn’t the equipment, which was limiting; it was the artists. This era lacks creativity. They have all the equipment in the world, and their music is garbage. I’m not dissin’ the dope cats; you have your Dre, your Timbaland, your Pharrell, 9th Wonder—you know, cats with skill. But most people just grab anything and try to make club-bangers. It’s so saturated right now, because everybody’s acting like there’s no other occupation besides rap. It seems like it used to be more special back then.

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