Kari's Japan Odyssey

Newsgroups: rec.music.hip-hop
Subject: It's the ride y'all (1 of 4)
Date: Sat, 22 Jan 2000 19:04:12 GMT
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"So we're headed to Japan in December"...

I wasn't really interested at first, but then I realized that I might not have this opportunity again. I had 3 months to save. On the homefront, my relationship with my gal had gone from bad to worse, and I had to cut her loose. As you can guess by now, I think a lot about everything, and I just can't stop. When I holla at girls, I usually don't stick with them if we can't have those earthshaking conversations. And after 2 1/2 years, It didn't seem like we could talk about more than music, clothes, and what club she wanted to go to. So when I heard about Japan, I realized that I needed some real time to just get some distance and figure out what I wanted. On top of that, I would be going with the troops, not my parents, not my girls, but my homiez. 5 deep we would fly from Los Angeles into Narita, so that we could terrorize the female japanese population. You know how the japanese chicks love Americans. (turns out to be a bit of a misnomer, but we'll get into that later)

"Why spend 800 dollars to fly to LA when you can drive for 200?"

It sounded like a good idea at the time. Austin to LAX is 1624 miles, and the way I drive we could leave at 8:00 am and get there at 12:00 am, 16 hours. (I'm sure Peter, or anyone who's driven across Texas is laughing his head off at this point)

I drive a 97 civic coupe. There were 4 of us + luggage headed to LA. we were going to drive straight... It sounded like a good idea at the time. My boy who suggested it was trying to save us some money, but he had a ticket hook up out to LA.

We pulled out at about 3:00 pm Central time. I did not know my ride could drop that low to the ground without changing the springs. I did the first leg of about 270 miles. It was dark, and we only had 1370 miles to go. I figured it would be okay. Then my potna took the wheel. I had driven with him before and did not notice any problems. But when he couldn't figure out the turnaround to get back on I-10, I realized that I could never sleep with someone else at the wheel of my car. He drove for about 400 miles till we hit El Paso.

It seemed okay up until then. #3 driver stepped up, and my boy doesn't have a license. 47 miles later, #4 takes the wheel and he drops some ill F-1/Nascar drafting techniques. I don't remember much from his leg, other than I couldn't sleep and I couldn't stay awake. So tired that when My eyes closed I would start to dream. As soon as I felt any road abnormality I would wake up. I take over in Tuscon I think, and we head through Phoenix. Both those towns are hella clean. I mean really clean. When I moved to Texas from Brooklyn, I thought Houston was clean, When I moved from Houston to Austin, I thought Austin was clean. But I don't think it's gets much cleaner than Phoenix.

Before long we hit the California border, and the troopers stop us for an agricultural inspection. Who knew you couldn't bring fruit into CA? Since I haven't slept, #2 steps back up to drive for a bit. We get into Palm Springs or Palm Desert... some place with a lot of old rich white people. As I'm ordering my hashbrowns, I start hearing people talk, and realize, I'm not in Texas anymore. CA people are different. I'm really starting to feel like a cowboy. We head to the post office, cause a brother is trying to go to lawschool. This is during the holiday rush so I"m in line for a good 45 minutes. Ahead of me in line is Joan Embry/Emery. I don't say anything cause i'm not sure, but i'm not in CA for long before I see my first celebrity.

I take the wheel cause we've all heard ill things about LA traffic. It's all hype. The worst traffic in the world is in NYC, brooklyn to be specific. LA is like a magnified Houston. ....

I guess this will have to be 5 parts, cause they're kicking me off. And this is not an OTP, cause it's got a lot of hip hop in parts 2-5.

peace,
k. orr
house of phat beats

Newsgroups: rec.music.hip-hop
Subject: The Battle for LA, I mean parking (2 of 5/6)
Date: Mon, 24 Jan 2000 22:07:25 GMT
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The thing that brought me and the crew together is hip hop. Indeed, I do not know anyone in Houston anymore, I just know hip hop people all over the state. It kinda worries me, cause I can not really be sociable at work with my co-workers, because I know most of them don't see it. It pains me to even say it, but that is my invisible wall.

The thing about hip hop is, that when you get in deep, you seem to develop a third eye. You see things that others don't see. And my crew is composed of those with what Lion-O would call, sight beyond sight..... I find it hard to even talk to people that do not know. I know in most casual conversations I try to keep the topic off of music and or political beliefs.

After smashing through the desert, I realized that I never ever want to drive anywhere that takes longer than 150 minutes, my breaking point. Particularly because I did not make a tape for the trip. Rule #1 of driving long distances, make a fresh tape of all the new joints,Rule #2 carry your classics. Since I gave my good tape deck away, because I had a new one (damn refurbished gift from my good for nothing step- father...I"ve got mad issues with male authority figures), I haven't been able to make a decent tape. Not being able to hook my TT's up because they would "clash with the living room" also adds to my anger, and the reason me and the girl were on the rocks. And my living situation caused me to pack up all 350 of my various comp tapes, dirty dubs, illegal bootlegs, I-net compilations, and professional tapes.

The only thing I had in the car, was a Nas comp I made during 95 with Bootcamp on the back (strangely Leflah was not on that tape), and half a copy of Muddy Waters.

From the very jump I realized that I was the odd man out of our crew. We listened to an Alejan mixtape, the Book of Human Language, some DanceHall, some Jungle/Tech music (that I don't know about, but respect cause it's not mine to hate on)....

By now, most of you regulars, and probably a few of the rookies, know that as hard as I try, I am a hip hop conservative. I'm not saying take it back to NY, but I am saying that artists need to appeal to a broad audience but also remain hardcore. It sounds impossible, but it doesn't seem to long ago, when both the nerds at my highschool and the jocks knew the words to bonita applebum, how i could just kill a man, and nothing but a g-thing.

But let me leave the days of future past, and speak upon the present. (at least it made sense when I wrote it).

So we roll into LA. We pull into this fast food restaurant. My boy Brent has made internet connects. You would think in all my time on rmhh, I should know at least one underground head in every state, but the reality is that I don't. (maybe we should put together a rmhh rolodex, so you cats traveling the company can experience my curry chicken).

His potna said we could hook up after 6, and he lived in Santa Monica. Cool, so we would hit up Fat Beats in L.A. So I think we hit hollywood and vine, but I can't be for sure. I remember seeing La Cienega, Sepulveda, and lots of other streets you here in LA rhymes. Makes me wish more mc's would come out of Houston... Trying to find Fat Beats, we hit crenshaw, but didn't get a chance to go anywhere else famous. After an hour looking the crew started to get unsettled, it was a relief when we got there.

I've been to the one in NY and I was not surprised by the hardcore elitism, but the one in L.A. was quite pleasant, a kinder gentler more embracing set of elitists. I fight with the elitism all the time, but I find myself making those same judgements as those that I've come to despise. Perhaps it's not about hip hop, but it is about something else. My saving grace, not of my judgements make it into words or actions. Still the same skater/backpacker crowd that you come to expect, but the record selection was pretty tight. and 4.99 for a single? Texas cats pay at least 5.99.

After the record store, I realized that this would be a more difficult trip than I intended. the boys wanted to hit Yoshinoya, a japanese fast food joint which features beef bowls. For those that don't know, it's beef marinated and then added to some noodles with pickled ginger. Now with that description it sounds like it could be tight, but by and large it doesn't have any flavor. This would plague me as I entered Nippon.

We hop back in the car for destination of Santa Monica. My folks say that it is north and east(or did they say south and west), an hour into heavy L.A. Traffic, I realized we are headed back the way we came. This was the first time I got really mad during the entire trip. I was really aggravated. For those who drive, you know what I'm going through. I jump into Houston mode, and we hit the surface streets on our way back to Santa Monica, cutting off people, bogarting, you know keeping it real. I was expecting L.A. to be the same way, but I started to feel like a Jamaican in Podunk county.

We finally hit Santa Monica, and we roll up to this cat's house. He looks a little older than I thought, maybe late 20's early 30's, on a competition freestyle bike.

And this is where the wedge starts to build between me and the crew. Everyone has gotten at least a couple of hours of sleep, but I've been awake since we left Austin 30 hours ago. After conversating in the cold for about 15 minutes, I start motioning towards the door. It was probably only 2 minutes, but in my state, I was pretty agitated. We get into his crib, I grab my jacket and my potna's pillow, and I am out.

Tension Builder 1 - Kari vs Brent.

Brent is my boy, but I felt real dissed by staying at this guy's house.

My argument - If you have people stay at your home, you should play host. Turn on the heat, offer them something to drink, maybe pull out an extra sheet or two if you don't have beds. When I've had traveler's stay at my house, I hit them off with pillows, blankets, cook them a meal, you know basically make sure that they are doing okay.

Brent's argument - He didn't have to let us stay at all. In essence, beggars really can't ask for the new dollar bill when you are offering them a Susan B. Anthony.

My rebuttal - I could have slept in my car and been more comfortable.

We ended up talking/arguing about this when we finally hit Japan, but I began to realize that not everyone is going to live up to my standards. Brent's argument has merits, and I really think on the absolute level, he was right, but I don't think I will ever forget that night.

This gaffe/snafu lead me to ask other questions. The bond I have between my soldiers is primarily hip hop, but secondarily we share the status of outsiders/loners. How strong is that bond? Can hip hop really bring people together?

I am an optimist, but also a realist. At home I see a crowd of multi- hued faces, but the audience is really coming from very similar backgrounds. Is hip hop really bringing different people together? Is that something we as hip hop heads really should aspire to?

It seems I wouldn't get a good nights sleep for a while.

In the morning, we left for Japan.

peace,
k. orr
house of phat beats

Just a note, I haven't written this ahead of time and transcribed it, I just sit down in front of the terminal and compose. I always send, I never revise, and I never edit. So there might be some problems in the mechanics, and I think I've forgotten a lot of my Strunk and White skills. And there will be more hip hop in the next posts. I'm sure I've missed something, snubbed somebody, offended somebody, please my humblest apologies.

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Before you buy.

Newsgroups: rec.music.hip-hop
Subject: Pimbipap or Scrod? (part 3 of 5/6)
Date: Tue, 25 Jan 2000 22:51:46 GMT
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The story so far.

Our villain has driven across the country, 4 deep in Civic coupe, from Austin to L.A.

A note from part 2.

My memory of that night was pretty colored, and the kid in the west who put all 4 of us up did us a favor. My only issue, is had it been me, it would have been a little different. As a general rule, you should not expect everyone to live up to your standards.....

That night in the cold, I remember the crew coming back. I was pretty passed out at the time, but I'm sure they all went to some S.M. place for some grub... Perhaps I just missed out on the hospitality...But my stay in Japan would teach me a lot about hospitality.

Indeed, the awesome 4some, was missing it's leader/catalyst. My boy Jef, got the hook up, and flew into L.A. So as we left Santa Monica, none of us were sure that he would be there.

The shuttle was going to get to the crib at 7 ish, and the plane left 2- 3 hours later. I was checking my gear. I brought 39 records, mostly 12's (lots of fugees, redman/meth how high, and some other records that most of you wouldn't have a problem letting go), 2 pair of pants, a hoody, an oversized Tommy Hilfiger/goretex jacket, the pair of Adidas Galaxies (which have looked quite busted after 9 months of abuse), a merino wool sweater (in case of the ladies.), and my Outkast and Goodie Mob T-shirts. And my prize and joy, the Sony Dcrtv-8 Mini Dv Digital video Camera. The price tag said 1500, but when you've got 6 months with no payments and no interest, who thinks about it.... With this tool, I thought I was going to do somethings.

Why did I go to Japan?
- wanted to get away from girlfriend
- wanted to have an adventure. With less than 700 dollars in your bpocket, living in Japan for 3 weeks would definitely be a challenge.
- I wanted to document some hip hop in Tokyo and Osaka
- I am interested in Japanese sports cars (Silvias, WRX's, Trueno's, Levins)

on the drive to LAX, this is what I was thinking about.

We got the airport, hit the driver off with about 60 bones between the 4 of us. I think he came up, but how else would we have gotten there? Within a couple of minutes, Hill Billy Hog Maw showed his face, and the J-4, became the J-5, J being Japan, and not Jurassic.

KE 001 - Korean Airlines has a daily flight to Japan from LAX. We got a ticket from LA to Narita (which is about an hour by train from Tokyo) for 435. When I was in L.A. I saw tickets for as low as 380. But I advise that you do not try to travel japan on a budget. Indeed, I've spent most of my life living pay check to pay check (or financial aid check to financial aid check, holla if ya hear me).

From the very jump, I knew that the small idiosyncrasies of my team would probably spark something during the trip.

To break it down

k.orr - I'm pretty moody, and I love to introspect, I love it so much, that I can not be bothered with anything other than thinking. I own 2 turntables and a mixer, but I couldn't scratch my way out of cat fight. And the fact that I have a lot of dope records, tends to make most proficient heads pretty agg. If only writing about hip hop counted for something.

Brent, Chris, Ben, Jef (HillBilly Hogmaw) - all have their own problems, but I'm not in their heads enough to really understand them.

Jef - He was the dj on the house of phat beats, before it was the house of phat beats. We share a lot of things in common, he also happens to be a son of Jamaicans, and also from New York and moved to houston. Jef is a straight hip hop quadrathlete. He's b-boyed, written graf, rhymed, but he now concentrates on dj'ing. Of the people I regularly hang out with, he knows the most about hip hop, both practice and theory. I think if he read a lot of my posts, he would recognize a few of his thoughts on the subject.

Brent - From Odessa TX, maybe you've heard of Texas football games? Odessa is the heart of Friday night football, and my boy was having none of it. I do not know when I meant Brent, but he's always been down for hip hop. He's hip hop triathlete, with graf, dancing, and dj'ing under his belt.

Chris - I stayed with Chris and my other boy Alex, when I stopped living with my girl. Chris is about three things, Girls, Dj'ing, and Cars, and not necessarily in that order. He represents El Paso.

Ben - From Houston... Imagine if Ryan Phillipe was into Dancehall. Ben produces beats, and has a great idea for a dancehall riddim, but were I to mention it, he would kill me.

The plane was pretty thick. I thinke we all decided that we were not going to sit together on the plane, because we knew that 5 cats 24 hours, 19 days, we would end up killing each other. I sat next to this Korean couple.

So as we're pulling out of the gate and onto the runway, all the lights turn off. Okay,, nothing to worry about, they come on again, in a few minutes, and then they go out again. Maybe this is what they do on international flights. When the lights and air conditioner died a 3rd time, I began to realize why this ticket was so cheap.

We pull into a jet filling station I guess, and everybody gets off the plane. This waystation is not close to the terminal, so we're practically on the tarmac just chilling. Some dudes roll out in one of those air plane trucks. I guess it's the mechanics. One cat looks under the front landing gear with a flashlight. The other guy shrugs his shoulders. I wanted to yell, "it's the starter man, check the starter..."

15 minutes, turned into 30 minutes, which turned into 1 hour, which turned into 2 hours. I was praying that the we wouldn't take off today. Because when the plane is down, they hit you off with a hotel room, and then give you some cash for your trouble. And although I wasn't really feeling the L.A. Traffic, Icey Ice (or is it Icey Jay), was representing on the afternoon mix on the beat. But hold on true believers, LA has 2 urban stations. Power 106 was putting it down also. And that night in L.A. they had some kind of underground west coast superfest. You name the artist, they were supposed to be there.

"Y'all some Hip Hopstas?" I almost bust out laughing when I heard this cat say this, but Kari is always looking to holla at some youngbloods about hip hop. Kid's names was Brent, repping from Cali, pushing a hooked up CRX, and he was into hip hop, and he was half Japanese. In essence, he was our entire crew boiled into one person. We chopped it up for a couple minutes, and exchanged numbers. We were headed to Tokyo, and he was going to Yokohama (which incidentally has a live wall of graffiti). But before a cipher broke out, the plane was fixed.

3 hours from our departure time, we were headed to Japan.

The plane ride was supposed to take 10 hours, and we were going to cross the international date line. We drove 10 hours to get there, but lost 2 hours from the time zone, plus Japan is about 16 hours ahead of Austin time.... Well I don't know when were supposed to get there, but it wasn't on schedule.

The plane ride had a couple of brothers besides Jef and Myself. There is something strange about being black. You always look for another black person. The stewardesses....

On the cool, I don't really have an asian fetish,( I think I have a brown skin brown eyes fetish, or maybe that's just my social reality) I really just cut for any girl with a cute face, but the stewardesses were pretty tight.

The food on the other hand, was not nearly so. I had already experienced Japanese food in Austin, at Azuma express, and in LA. I had tempura at Yoshinoya. The meal for the day was either Pimbipap, a Korean favorite, or some kinda fish, which I think was Scrod. They primarily annouced everything in Japanese, then Korean, and then in English. Note to self, English is difficult to learn.

I went with the Pimbipap, I'm a sucker for things I can't really pronounce.

But outside of the Pimbipap, the plane ride was uneventful. Just like riding with my soldiers, where any road anomaly would wake me out of my half sleep, any turbulence kept me looking for the parachutes.

We landed at about 5:00 pm, or it might have been 7, I'm still on Houston time at this point. So we change our money in Japan, 683 us changes 68300. The Japanese don't have decimals, so whenever you read Japanese prices, you just need to throw a point in after the last 2 numbers to get the american price.

And this is where the problems really start.

Being the conscientous planners that we are, and of course all of us are independently poor, we did not have a place to stay in Japan.

word, I need to bounce, Sorry I got to end it here, I haven't really dropped anything, but I promise more hip hop in the next one.

peace,
k. orr
house of phat beats

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Newsgroups: rec.music.hip-hop
Subject: Would you like a massage? (part 4 of 5/6)
Date: Wed, 26 Jan 2000 23:14:58 GMT
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30 some odd hours from my last real sleep, 68,300 yen in my pocket, and we don't have a place to stay.

Indeed, me and Hillbilly had gotten into it about this, and I"m not sure why. We had a final meeting of the J-5 to iron out any last minute details, but being the only person of the crew who did not know any Japanese people, any Japanese language, and had never been to Japan I did not really have any input on the topic. Basically when you travel, you want to 2 things, food and shelter. So I said, hey we'll just figure it out when we get there. Famous last words?

Now that we were stranded at the airport, I started to understand the gravity of the situation. Indeed, amongst the crew, my Japanese skills consisted of Moshi Moshi and Honda. In the states, I can pull my own weight, but here I would be depending on everyone for nearly everything, not a good position to be in, particularly if you are used to being independent.

But as things often happen when you travel, turns out a friend of ours from the University was coming in on a later flight. The 3 hour pit- stop had us set up to meet her.

"The ryokan is in Ikebukuro"... I do not think you want to go there"
"how much is it a night?
" 15,000 yen for a 5 person room" -> translates to about 30 bones a night, which is cheaper than any hotel I"ve been to in the states. A ryokan is called a business hotel, and it's set up like a traditional house.

"That's cool"
"But Ikebukuro is not a nice place"
"We'll be okay"

Fear of the ghetto translates in all languages. Turns out, Japan, a super America, both in it's urban and suburban form, also had ghetto's.. or at least a Japanese version.

I'm not a big guy. My 38' Baggies can fit without a belt, and I always
ock oversized dress shirts/polo's or t-shirts. (so maybe i'm a bit chubby for my height, but as Heav D would say, or B. David Harrison, or Mike Burke(who is a heavy d fan), or Fat Boy Roberts, "The girls, the girls, love me, cause i'm the slightly overweight lover Kar-i" But with my duffle bag, and my Anarctica Coat, and my records, and my bookbag, I was a behemoth.

Indeed, the airport was not that packed. If you've spent a lot of time in airports, perhaps there are some real noticeable difference, but I'm proud of myself when I leave the house on weekends. This airport seemed like every other airport I've been in.

Like pack mules, we said thanks and goodbye to our friend, and headed to Ikebukuro. From Narita, Tokyo was about 40 -50 minutes by train, 1200 yen for the ticket. The tickets in Japan are magnetic strips with information printed on one side. You slide the ticket into the turnstile, and as you come out, it gives it back to you. We hit one station, and caught another train headed to our destination.

I'm kinda wondering if Japan can have a hood. When we get off at our stop, I realized that there are a lot of people in Japan. It's about the size of California, but 90% of the people live on 20% of the land. And considering that 120 million people live in Japan... Well if you did the math to figure out the time, you can figure out the population density too.

The train station was pretty clean, particularly for it being so packed. There were a couple of newstands, and some token vending machines, and throngs and throngs of people. If you've seen people in Manhattan during the business day, then you know what the folks were wearing. Queens Oxford cloth dress shirts + Italian silk faille ties + overcoats for the fellas, and the broads were rocking some typical high class stuff. There were a lot of big brown purses all over the place, LV or something. I didn't know Coolio's potna had gotten so popular.

This was a huge station, it seemed we kept looking for the c-5 exit. The directions told us to get to this exit, and then ask the policeman for directions. In Japan, the only streets that are labeled are the main thoroughfares (as far as I could tell), and so the police's main job is to explain to people how to get somewhere. This would be a wonderful place for GPS to take off. We found the police box, and headed out towards the spot.

As we're walking the streets of Ikebukuro, I'm wondering how hard can this place be. We come to this huge section of town with hella lights, and what appear to be arcades with funny pinball machines.

"Those are pachinko parlors"

Pachinko is hard to explain, but they have a similar game on the price is right. Think about taking a pinball machine and setting it up vertically. Keep the steel ball bearings, and add more columns for them to hit. Now in Pachinko you have a stream of balls that start at the top of the columns and fall to the bottom. The more balls you get to go through the center the more ball bearings are released into a tray. So you have to buy some ball bearings to start, and you end up with even more ball bearings as you win. At the end of the day you can trade your ball bearings for a nice novelty comb, a brand new japanese pop cd, or maybe a MD player. Much like our skeeball, but with better prizes. My potna Chris said, most people just take their balls to the Mafia, (Yakuza), and get cash for them....

With the crowds, and the noise, this wouldn't be a city without lots of lights. This place was bright in the black of the night. Something was different. I still saw a lot of business men, salary men as they are called in Japan parlance, but there were a lot of women wearing next to nothing in this freezing cold, and some rough looking, dark skinned, blonde haired, Japanese cats, rocking leather or wool overcoats and the shirt and tie monochrome look. If nothing these cats were up to date on what's GQ.

Our friend had found us a hotel in one of Tokyo's red light districts. I can hear Kenny Rogers singing "looking for love in all the wrong places" The women in question were "hostesses", but we call em Ho's in the states. The cats looking cool yet scary, were the infamous Yakuza. I saw a lot of gucci suede loafers. (on a side note, I've noticed a lot of my asian folks love slip on shoes. kinda the same way old brothers like to wear nylon jogging suits, or old texas grandma's rock big hair. Does every character have a uniform? I guess with my skully and baggy jeans and throwed in the game sneakers I fit my stereotype too)

Lo and behold there is a 7-11. Now I don't know about you, but I've spent a good part of my youth at convenience stores. Either buying Cherry Coke, jalapeno Crunch Tators, or CornQuistadors, or doing the drunken monkey with Guile on SFII. So we end up doing what we do if we were at home. My squad and I are professional loiterers. And we were post up in a different country, looking for a place to stay, luggage in hand, chillin at the corner store.

So far the chicks and the dudes stayed clear of us. HillBilly was in the middle of the street, and this chick approaches him. They have a little exchange, and the soldliers gather around. Ben steps into to translate (3 1/2 years of Japanese behind him), but Jef knew what was up from the jump. They were just negotiating price. Turns out the flyer was a coupon for 20% off of, ehhmm... how shall I say.... Deep tissue massage, really deep. I have a feeling if we all weren't there, throwing salt in the game, He might have gotten to see a part of Japan most foreigners don't get to see.

We decide to find this spot before it closes for the night. We had to fend off a couple of drunks, and I had to tell some chick "No massage", but we eventually get there.

Kimi Ryokan was the name of the spot, and I knew why we had to get a policeman to tell us how to get there. From the trainstation you traveled along the main road, cut through the red light district, hit a smaller road, but not really small, then cut into a side road, turn right an ally that hits that road, and then we found the front door.

This would be our base of operations for the coming weeks.

my carpal tunnels are acting up, so I'll holla at yall tomorrow

k. orr

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Newsgroups: rec.music.hip-hop
Subject: Rough math -draft of part 5
Date: Fri, 18 Feb 2000 01:47:22 GMT
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So I went back to the lab to check my quadrille notebook. Lo and behold, the notes of the experiment weren't there, but rather a collection of calculations.

Indeed, most of the time I spent in Japan, I spent trying to figure out how much money I had left. Old habits, (majors) die hard.

But we had been in Tokyo for a couple of hours and now it was time to sleep. Sleep might be the cousin of death, but after 3 days of traveling, I would have jumped into either of their beds just to get relief from living.

The spot we were staying at was called Kimi Ryokan, located in Ikebukuro, which I guess is a town/neighborhood in Tokyo. Kinda like Flatbush is a part of Brooklyn, but you write Brooklyn on your address. It was one of the red light districts in Tokyo.

A Ryokan is a "business" hotel. The room had 2 windows, a couple of closets, a floor mounted temperature control unit, and 5 futons laid side by side. The floor was covered with Tatami mats. A tatami mat is a mat made up of finally strung together grass/bamboo/plant material. They describe the rooms in # of Tatami mats, much like we describe places by the size of football fields. Since I am a bit dimensionally challenged, imagine a room big enough for 6 sleeping bags. This was definitely Eastern hospitality, but that night was the best night of sleep I had had in a long time. Much better than the couch I was sleeping on back home.

The funny thing about traveling is that you lose all sense of time. And as Dres said on the 1st Blacksheep album, I wake up, and it's Saturday again. About 6 hours later, I wake up, first. This would begin a terrible pattern, I would be the first one to wake up, and I would always wake up early.

2 hours of forced sleep later, I think everyone else finally woke up. It's about 8-9 am japan time, about 4-5 pm ATX time. We decided to step on out of the ryokan, and get some breakfast.

Decisions, Decisions...
Advice for Travelers #2
- When you travel, do not go in a big group, particularly if the trip is not organized. The one thing that bothered me the whole time I was there, was that I was under the command/control/hegemony of the group. When I was at home, I knew my 4 soldiers would end up getting on my nerves, so I made it a point to not sit with them on the plane, and bring a journal, but trying to be a stranger in a strangeland is far more difficult than it is hear.

Now breakfast to me means, OJ, Pancakes, Eggs, Hashbrowns, Sausage or Bacon (Yes I've got pork in my bowl, don't let my father know). It doesn't mean the same thing in Japan. Ben, #1 japanophile, went with some soba. I think the rest of us hit the FAMILY MART, a 24 hour convenience store. They had some german strudel there, and my boy Jef reminded me of the old Axis Powers days.

After scarfing down some pastries on the corner, we would follow chuck's words, and move as a team. Team member B had to find an ATM. Now many of the travel books will tell you that you get more yen for your dollars by using an ATM versus a paper exchange, but I had all of my paper that I needed for the trip in my pocket. Team member B went to 3 or 4 banks before he found Sumitomo bank. Whilst he was accross the street, we were at this sporting goods store with hella sneakers. Unfortunately they didn't open til 11:00 am. Maybe that's how things are done in the big city, but it seemed nothing on the main roads was open til 11:00 am.

The first day in Japan would pretty much prove to be uneventful.

Day 2.

The day part of japan 2 was pretty uneventful, but those hot Tokyo nights would surface. Indeed, I think I had some McDonald's for the first time that day, and the 5.77 double cheese burger set would be my friend for my entire trip.

We were headed to the Shibuya, a fashionable area for young Tokyo. It's about 8 stops from our train, and as we got out of the station, I knew why my boys were hype. We were going to hook up with Daiske by the Dog.

Daiske, a skateboard shop clerk, was one of my homeboys friends from wayback. The Dog, was a big bronze statue of the emperor's dog.

As I'm following the line of my folks, I'm starting to hear some commotion. Lo and Behold, Austin Texas is here in Japan. One of those damn drum circles had made it's way across Pacific and had found a foothold.

I broke out the camera to catch the nights events. Lots of japanese cats with dread locks, some japanese girls with afro's, and of course your standard Prada and Armani types.

In the distance, the Yakuza were approaching girls left and right, each time getting shot down.

Fam would connect, and we headed into the heart of the Shibuya.

Sent via Deja.com http://www.deja.com/
Before you buy.

Newsgroups: rec.music.hip-hop
Subject: Sequences and Series: Calculus the second semester
Date: Fri, 18 Feb 2000 02:43:44 GMT
--------

Indeed, it's the mathematics that get me.

In no particular order, the coming and goings of one Kari Jamil Orr.

The Shibuya was cold as hell that night. My Aunt in NYC sent me this gore-tex jacket that probably cost here a grip, cause Tommy's name was on it. At first I thought it was too much, I just wanted a bright orange bubble jacket. If there is one thing I learned about my last real winter in a big city, is that you want some visibility. The emeralds and olives that I regularly rock, got lost in the landscape of greys and blacks. I would argue that since people are always so physically close to each other, it makes sense that you would see more visual diversity than folks out in the country. But don't quote me..

I don't see things in sepia or in rose, but from what my potna told me about last time, this is the one place on earth, where being black would be of benefit. Perhaps I should say that more carefully.

We were headed to the premier hip hop club in Tokyo, named Harlem. I had heard plenty of things about this club when the souljahs spoke upon it at the homestead, and I had a my own mental imagery and fantasy going. Even when I am conscious of my own prejudices and racial attitudes, I often seem helpless to stop it.

In short, my boy had said that just being black made you cool. Something I already knew, but here in the states, you are expected to be cool. Cool under fire, Cool way of talking, Cool way of walking, cool way of playing ball. When this modern world presents problems of circumstance, the cool Afrikan sees through the fog and comes with the solution. You know the model. Ally McBeal finds herself in some kind of an issue, and Lisa Nicole Carson comes with that straight from the streets/keep it real advice that seems to cut through the shillbut.

I've thought an awful lot about cool, after reading an a piece about it. And this is where my cool would come into play.

It's not just wanting to be Lexington Steele and James Bond, but rather it would be nice to be appreciated for the vast cultural capital I have. My various employers have missed out on what I could really offer the team, because they played me like the other players, despite my saying that they could score more points doing it the g-way....

Wait a minute, unless you're in my head with me, you might be getting lost in this stream of consciousness.

Just like here in the states, japanese women have a mandingo complex. Most of brethren are familiar with it, and since Wesley Snipes kicked Chico Debarge out, us caramel flavored bro-shaq's are being looked over in search of Special Dark. It's all good though. I ain't bitter, and that's not a dark chocolate reference.

And since I wasn't with my girl at the time, I thought it would take Bill Bellamy's advice.

The fearsome fivesome lost one of our soldiers to circumstance, and we were down to a mere foursome. They wanted 2500 yen at the door, which at the time was about 25.00 US. But my boys said it would be live. I showed them my passport, and we roamed up 2 flights of stairs.

The beats were pumping, the crowd was jumping, and after we got through the checkpoints I was looking to get onto the floor. The club was set up kinda odd. There was one floor that was really 2 floors with a split level. One set of stairs lead to an overview of the dance floor, and another set took you to another dance floor.

As I got closer to the floor, trying to part the sea like moses, I realized that the DJ was not on point. He was playing some kinda electro-drum-wackness. Kinda like hip hop beats without any soul. But I paid 25.00 to get in, so I'm going to check out up stairs.

"Heads high, kill dem wit the no..." -> Who would have thought Japanese kids would be into Dance Hall. But now that I think about it, both nations are islands. Both nations start with a J-A.

I don't know the name of the soundsystem, but they had both a DJ and a selector. For those not up on dancehall parlance, the DJ is like an MC or old, or maybe a DJ of the radio variety, and the selector is the one that plays the records. And then ol'boy came with patios japanese style, or japanese slang with a Jamaican accent. I was understandably throwed off.

But no doubt the females up here looked much better. My boys in general have an Asian fetish. A lot of chicks I thought looked busted, they thought were okay. But more females with Afro's. I really starting to feel the style, but then I realize I'm not really checking for them, I'm checking for my own.

There were Rastafari of all colors in the spot. One brother was draped in some red velvet that made me think of My father's brothers (you know I call them my uncles).

But some short kids were also in effect. Crumbs and I believe Mr. Wiggles were there with some other Rock Steady Kids. We would end up continually bumping into them as we stayed in Japan. Everywhere I went, Rock Steady would be up in the spot.

Now you would think that since reggae is primarily in patois, a dialect of English that is not taught in schools anywhere, these heads would not know what was up. Completely wrong. They were up on all the latest joints, and a couple of the classic joints. I don't think i've seen this level of knowledge of dancehall since I was in Brooklyn last.

The vibe was very, shall i say, Irie. But since I'm really a hip hop head at heart, despite my ancestral roots in Jam Down, I had to head down stairs after 45 minutes. Hogmaw decided to stay up there, cause he had enough of DJ Electofunk.

But when we came down it was all, shall we say, John Blaze. The one Dj had been replaced by a hip hop Dj, and he was playing some hip hop.

Joints Japanese cats get hype to, and we just scratch our heads

- Stressed Out - ATCQ - it's an okay song, but these kids were feeling this like it was Scenario or something

- Without a Doubt - Black Sheep - The first single from the second album. I like the 2nd lp, but it's not one that I have bumped since it came out. Again folks were jumping for joy.

- Tearz - Da King and I - again, it's one of those 93-95 joints that got college radio love, but means absolutely nothing to your average anticon fan.

Joints we get hype to , and Japanese cats scratched their head.

- Bling Bling - Now I was surprised that this even got played in japan, but the DJ played it 2wice that night. We were getting it real krunk on the floor when this dropped.

- Back Dat Azz up - Again, we are at the very heart, southern boys. There were some military folks in the crowd doing the pony to this song.

Indeed, the song selection was not the best I've heard in my life, but they did play Hiero and some other things that you never hear at clubs.

some ish they played out

- What's my Name - DMX - I hated this song then, and only for it to get popular when I returned to the states...

- Whoa - Black Rob - See above.

The Dj had about a 2 hour set that he would repeat. It was a lot of NY stuff, particularly current NY stuff, Jigga got lots of love, but not so surprisingly after being there... Primo/Gangstarr are the patron saints of hip hip in japan. And if Primo is a saint, Pete Rock is probably a pope or something.

If you attend a lot of underground functions that involve dancing (unheard of I know, but it happens), Primo gets plenty of love. But remember, in Japan, it's all hip hop. There is no underground, there is no commercial. There is local and imported, but by and large the scene there is like a cross between college radio and Funkmaster Flex. When we went to Tower, Eligh of Living Legends fame, had a huge display for his CD's. Unheard of here. It's the kind of thing you would have expect for Britney Spears here. DJ Muro released a 7" featuring Finesse and AG (more heavily respected names in japan), and had his video on VIBE (Vibe took over MTV in Japan).

But for all that love of unpopular hip hop, I didn't hear one vehicle bumping...

As the DJ starting to put it on, I'm starting to get on the floor. I don't really dance a whole lot, but I was feeling it. And as I'm looking over the crowd I'm noticing the vast majority of people are dancing by themselves. The only guys dancing with girls are military cats on the prowl.

My boy Chris is approaching ho's, but getting shot down. Everybody else is just kinda chilling, but my boy is getting kinda aggravated. He's been here before, but it seems like he's not getting love like he used to. Seeing him get shot down is not making me thinks hollaring is going to be any easier here.

I step back up stairs to the reggae spot, cause it's heating up downstairs.. and then my jaw dropped.

It was a round perfectly shaped set of buttocks doing things that they shouldn't. By and large japanese females are small and thin, but this girl must have been rocking some red beans and rice with her regula meals. Thick, unbelievably thick. And it was here in Japan, I was introduced to the phenomena of Dance Hall Queen.

The real dancehall heads know what I'm talking about. It was 2 females draped in latex bikini tops, and pum-pum shorts (some call 'em hot pants). And they were n'synch with the music and breaking it down. They were some brass poles in the place, and I felt like an extra at Striptease. Nothing came off, but they didn't really leave anything to the imagination.

This one dancer was elevated on a stage like area, and this Japanese cats was on his hands and news looking up her dress. I will always remember the Dear Chicks.

I caught about 10 minutes of their performance. They said peace to the crowd, and 2 other scantily clad women stepped up. But they had mics. The selector throws on a slow riddim, and these japanese girls started to do a reggae cover of "Last Christmas". It was pretty nice, but still very odd at the same time.

They then went on to do a reggae song in japanese, and at that point I went back down stairs.....

Part 5 isn't over, but my hands are getting tired.

peace
k. orr
house of phat beats

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Before you buy.

Newsgroups: rec.music.hip-hop
Subject: part 6
Date: Mon, 25 Sep 2000 21:02:26 GMT
--------

I'll guess I'll skip part 5, the first week in tokyo, and switch to the Moonlight Ogalla..

So the soldiers and myself are in Tokyo, but we've got to get to Osaka. Mind you this is Japan, december, cold as ... Me, draped in my Hilfiger bear coat, skully, gloves, jeans, sweatpants under the jeans, still chattering.

So I think we bounce out of Ikebukuro and head to one of the main stations. We finally get to the station. (head detective, Elz, empanadamn, and Ben)

So we're just cooling out at this station, where we actually catch the midnight train. It rolls up, and it's full of japanese cats headed home for the holidays. the whole spot is stacked to the brim, so we spend the next 2 hours standing/sleeping. With stops.

We then have to do a change at some station. We're cooling out for at least 45 minutes, and my homiez decide to get some grub at the local convenience store. You know me, I'm getting pretty vexated as their taking some corny sticker pictures. But that's how they deal with stress.

Eventually the train comes through, and we all rush on. My boy Ben leaves his bag on the platform. This bag contains his id, credit card, pass port, treasure family heirlooms..And the first thing he does is look at all of us, and ask how come we didn't remind him.

Well we hesitated from killing him at that moment.

peace
k. orr