Throughout history, the dance of death between the sensitive artist type and the rake has surfaced in several different cultures. Beatles vs. Stones. Michael vs. Prince. Hosoi/Alva vs. Gonz/Blender. As we have seen in recent years with dylan., for example, a combination of the two often proves interesting as fuck. Not sure how Joy Division vs. New Order fits into this, but if I were pursuing a PhD in Pop Culture Studies I would probably write a thesis on “New Order people,” vs. “Joy Division people.”

ANYWAY, this dichotomy surfaces again in the recent year-end onslaught of skate vids. On one hand, some dudes play acoustic guitar, take analog photographs, and sip wine on estates overlooking expansive vineyards in Steinbeckian northern California. On the other hand, other companies, like the Shake Junt outfit and the young men of the Omerta-free Sk8mafia, occupy their time skating, altering their consciousnesses through various substances, and taking liberties with ladies of questionable moral standing.

The above might explain my recent obsession with the eponymous Sk8mafia vid. Indeed, simply in terms of music supervision, references to both the New Jersey Nets and #jewishlawyers could not be more in my wheelhouse. Completely devoid of artistic introductions or narrative conceits, it harkens back to the video-per-year days of the New Deal and World. An over-the-top pastiche of ignorant-ass hip-hop, oldies, technical-ass low-impact skating, and what is now referred to as “lifestyle footage,” I would go so far as to call Sk8mafia the evolutionary Whatever.

I will elaborate on that later. First, let me cite my inspiration for this post: a tweet by Munzenrider. The awesomeness lies in the contrast between the worlds–physical, temporal, and philosophical– that Oscar Wilde and the gentlemen of Sk8mafia inhabit. To riff on an idea from a couple posts ago, I think Oscar Wilde might possibly have skated, but not extensively. He would have morphed into the kid who sits at the spot, getting up occasionally to try a few soft-footed nollie b/s bigspins, commenting on everyone’s style ‘n shit. The comments, would, however, be witty as fuck.  But are these worlds really so far apart? With that in mind, I give you a deconstruction of the aforementioned video as seen through the prism of a selection of Oscar Wilde quotes.

Palmore

“between the famous and the infamous there is but one step, if as much
as one.”

At first glance, one would pigeonhole Palmore as a Pat Steiner-esque cellar door dude. However, just as in the Sk8mafia am video,* he sets himself apart with a series of face-melting combo tricks. Similar to the fine line between fame and infamy, the line between a cool-looking and a “cut” combo trick is fine and constantly shifting. For example, the b/s lipslide to bluntslide to fakie  is tight as fuck, cause the dude is in control the whole way. However, I can’t bring myself to co-sign tapping one’s nose on the ledge on the way out of a lipslide. That’s like those nosegrind reverts that some people do that are just an alley-oop b/s 180 on flat with a nose bonk in the middle. But worse. ANYWAY, Palmore kills it once again; I would go so far as to characterize him as a slightly-economically-disadvantanged man’s Marc Johnson.

Turner

“The old believe everything; the middle-aged suspect everything; the young know everything.”

Seems like we have known this dude for his whole life cycle. At first, I assumed that Turner had joined the ranks of skater/mc’s with this song and the intro. However, CWD put me on the the fact that this Ray Jones dude is a homie, not Brandon himself; however, Turner goes in on this mixtape, which I have not heard.

ANYWAY,  this part includes the best switch double flip since Whatever and a 360 flip nosegrind revert on a schoolyard bench that made me yell at my TV like I was watching a Battle at the Berrics quarterfinal or some shit. Does anyone else skate street in sunglasses? Hoyle, maybe? The part’s sole downfall–and maybe the vid’s as a whole–is a propensity towards what border on “illusion”-style switch hardflips, as per that one Mike Carroll interview.

Grey

“Oh, brothers! I don’t care for brothers. My elder brother won’t die, and my younger brothers seem never to do anything else.”

Larelle Grey’s part in the Sk8mafia am vid, in which he skated to “Colors” wearing mostly all black everything, exemplifies how music supervision can recontextualize a video part, add layers of meaning, and make it effective as shit. He and his brother’s part in this video (the Sk8mafia pro video, I guess), also exemplifies this effect, but with a completely opposite emotional impact. Flocka sounds like an even-sleepier, more-doped out Ma$e on this track–the modern-day ignorant-ass hip-hop “Taillights Fade,” or some shit. Has the world really beaten the shit out of Grey in the past year and a half? We may never know. All we know is what appears before our eyes, which in this part includes a sick b/s nosegrind revert on the inside of a planter and a f/s shove crooked grind on the Ron Bertino sw backside lipslide rail.

Cao

“Good artists exist simply in what they make, and consequently are perfectly uninteresting in what they are.”

The above quote encapsulate’s Cao’s state of perpetual ripping, devoid of image. Why does his board look long as shit, like Guy in Video Days? When was the last time you saw someone skating in DVS’s?  Stringing together lines with seldom-seen double-sided ledge transfers and one-foot halfcabs, Cao appears vaguely Lotti-esque throughout this two song part, rendering the above questions moot. Ender on San Diego black marble municipal building ledge kills it.

Friends

“Friendship…is not something you learn in school,but if you haven’t learned the meaning of friendship you really haven’t learned anything.”

Three of the heaviest street skaters ever in one friend’s section, plus, like this dude said, the best friends section music supervision in a decade. Still haven’t pinpointed Fabian’s trick, though.

ps. “Swass” is basically a paleozoic-era version of #swag, right?

Heath

“Wisdom comes with winters.”

I have backed Marshall Heath ever since that one Vermont homie vid in which he did swich tail switch 270 flip out. I think someone said on the venerable Slap mssgbrd that he also pulled a sw tail 270 hardflip out–that is to say, sw bigspin flip out the [really] hard way or some shit. Obviously, the harsh Vermont winters facilitate contemplation–specifically, the infinite ways one can flip one’s board out of a noseslide.

Upon moving to San Diego, however, Heath’s process has remained the same, albeit expanding his skill set to include a few conceptual ledge tricks on big shit (i.e. ender). If Sk8mafia is the evolutionary Whatever, Heath is the evolutionary Shorty Gonzalez. Also, dude rocks the tightest polo/backwards fitted kit since Rick Jaramillo.

Team Montage

“Fashion is a culture that is so vulgar that we have to change every 5 minutes.”

Is Flex O’Connor the best Irish skater of all time?

Enter Smolik, who has toned down the outfits from the huge-print “LACED THE FUCK UP”** shirts, big shorts, knee socks, and chucks ensemble that resembled something one would see on a pop/lock dancer circa mid-Seventies Soul Train. Still got those combos on lock, though. Gotta play your position.

ANYWAY, while conducting rudimentary internet research for this post, I watched that criminally underrated Let’s Do This part and concluded that Smolik is one of the best street skaters of all time. His criminally underrated status, though, remains a mystery. Quartersnacks deconstructed this phenomenon earlier this week in very astute fashion, but I would put forward the suggestion that skateboard media, like MTV, has a short-as-fuck memory:

1988: “Cinderella and Winger*** are awesome! Let’s run their videos nonstop!”

1994: “Wait, we never did that! Let’s run Bush and Hootie and the Blowfish vids all day.”

1999: “Hold up! That never happened either! Here are some N’Sync, Backstreet and shiny suit Puffy/ Ma$e vids for y’all.”

Right now Thrasher is on some super-aggro transition/ATV shit, having blocked out the memory of Bertino f/s noseslide nollie heel out video grab sequences. Transworld seems to be locked in an M.C. Escher-like cycle of filming for their vids, which generates content, which generates vids, etc.

NOTE: Smolik’s influence has also extended into the mix tape game. Although I am not sure if he skates, that dude @RiFFRaFF_SODMG appears to be highly influenced by late 90′s/early 00′s Smolik.

Philosophically, at least.

James

“I should fancy that crime was to them what art is to us, simply a method of procuring extraordinary sensations.”

Just as Ice Cube–at one point, the angriest man in America–and his colleagues in the Southern Calfornia “gangsta”-rap movement blurred the line between art and crime, so does Kellen James draw parallels between his ever-expanding palette of bigspin variations and the criminal nature of documenting them. This concept was also illustrated on the insole graphic of his never-to-be-released e’S pro model, which looks like a sick cupsole hyprid type deal.

The fakie hardflip in conjunction with “treat her like a prostitute” is particularly effective here. However, fingerflipping out of ledge tricks (first new trend of 2012?) and varial grabs on street remain as controversial as Kill At Will.

Sarmiento

“What the artist is always looking for is the mode of existence in which soul and body are  one and indivisible: in which the outward is expressive of the inward: in which form reveals.”

I tried counting the pure, orthodox, non-combo ledge NBD’s in the part. I lost count at, like, seven. Call it a comeback if you will, but with this part Sarmiento attains parity with the six main Euro Tech disciples–Jesus, Lebron, Enrique, Lucas, and Jean-Baptiste. Does skating artistic obstacles in a city that considers architecture a critical art form force one’s skating into a more artistic mindset? This remains to be seen, but I am biased as fuck towards this brand of conceptual, low-impact ledge skating.

However, despite his legendary status, Sarmiento still toils in relative obscurity, while other similar practitioners sleep on beds of money in mansions formerly owned by titans of early-Nineties MLB. Can we at least kick him down Rob Dibble’s old condo or some shit?

Kremer/P-Kid

“The final mystery is oneself.”

One can count on one’s hand the number of dudes who have obtained Zen-like mastery over all facets of skateboarding as has Wes Kremer. He has “figured it out,” as an industry dude once said about Ronnie Creager. Street badassery, flip-in/flip-outery. bowls, rails, stairs. This is his fourth video part in the past three years, and while it, like pretty much everything else, doesn’t quite attain the badassery level of that one DC part, it cements his status as the “quarterback”****/spiritual leader of the Sk8mafia. Truth be told, there is no trick he could do in any realm of skating that would shock me. Eggplant fingerflip to fakie–whatever.

Plus he rides the same pair of old-ass Royals with bone bushings, which is legit as fuck.

Surrey

“It is silly of you, for there is only one thing in the world worse than being talked about, and that is not being talked about.”

Truth be told, after watching this part, I had to review Surrey’s part in the Sk8mafia am video. Upon said review, the kid ripped, but I remembered why the part didn’t leave an impression. I think I had mentally filed him with those longhaired California Element kids like Evan Smith, Julian Davidson, etc. Please also remember that it is impossible for me to recall anything that wasn’t linked on Twitter withing the past 24 hours.

HOWEVER, to paraphrase a Bill Simmons idea from a few years back, with this  part, Surrey has made The Leap  into somewhat of an evolutionary “calm style” Peterka.  What is The Leap? To transfer this idea from sports to skating, it’s when a dude transitions from merely ripping with mad potential to piecing together concepts into a transcendent video part. Carroll was always sick in those H-Street vids, but he made The Leap some time between then and Questionable. Creager’s parts in Cocktails and Superconductor Supercollider killed it, but–through Soc’s filming or just the process of gaining experience and comfort level–20 Shot synergized his ideas and skill set into a coherent statement.

Indeed, the first thing that came to mind when I heard the opening riff in this part was that aforementioned last part, also set to a non-obscure Stones song.***** Like Creager, Surrey has become more of a conceptual tactician, coming up with dope concepts like the Gino 270/bigspin out and ollie up to “farside” b/s 180 ng at that bank-by-the-sea spot. He even throws in an old Ivan Perez  maneuver with the sw b/s heel nose manual.

And lines? We got lines across the street from one spot to the next. Lines downhill through an entire spot into the street, weaving through handball games. Lines at that one fountain/manual pad spot from Robert Douglas’ part in Whatever. And that one monster eight-trick line at bank-by-the-sea, including the obligatory “the fuck do I do now?” lookback. I would even contend that we haven’t seen lines of this caliber since…

wait for it…

Lavar in Trilogy.

Hyperbolic? Perhaps. But, like my man said, the only thing worse than being talked about is not being talked about. Sk8mafia has succeeded in creating a world in which San Diego is interesting, which hasn’t been the case since that one dude on Real World San Diego 1.0 got locked up in the drunk tank and hitchhiked back to the house with no shoes. Or some shit like that.

*which, incidentally, is an easter egg on the DVD

**is that even a real company?

***No disrespect to Cinderella (Philly/South Jersey dudes) or Kip Winger

****to paraphrase Clyde’s essential 20 Shot commentary

***** re: “Jumpin’ Jack Flash”– as it happens, I have just reached the part in the Richards biography Life where he deconstructs the writing and recording of this song. Trip the fuck out. In case you don’t have the time to read it, here is a brief summary:

• Brian Jones was a dick, and Richards banged his girlfriend (after he banged early-Sixties Ronnie Spector).
• Jagger was cool at first—then he was a dick.

ANYWAY, Richards says he recorded the guitar tracks for said song on an overdriven cassette recorder using a crappy acoustic. If this is indeed the case, not only were he and Jagger early adopters of, like, cocaine, but also of retro recording techniques like the current “VHS/ #tracking” trend. They early-adopted mad shit.

Also, there is no doubt in my mind that Richards and Jagger would have skated had they grown up in London in the early 90’s as opposed to the early 60’s.

"I don't fuck losers"

I recently sifted through an old CD binder on account of having to drive a car without satellite radio. In addition to some old Spitritualized b-sides ‘n  shit, I came across the cd single of “Every Me Every You” by Placebo, known to all skaters as “the first of two horrible songs that Mark Appleyard skated to transcendently in the early 00’s.” Indeed, if one were to grade Appleyard’s skating on a three-criterion rubric of power/style/control, few dudes would score higher. On the other hand, one would be hard pressed to think of a dude with a higher quality-of-skating to quality-of-music supervision ratio.

However, subjectivity fuels music’s ephemeral appeal. As I started listening to the CD, (I wish there was a nifty slang term for “cd single” like “cassingle”), I got psyched. Then I watched that Sorry part a few times before skating. I entered a kind of music supervision symbiotic biofeedback loop–as I listened to the song, the more I got psyched on the part, and vice versa. Exponentially. Kind of like listening to 2chainz on a Friday night can make one feel like one is not only riding around, but, truth be told, getting it, listening to a song from a Mark Appleyard part provides the feeling that, maybe just once, I could switch tailslide some handrail as effortlessly as stepping a curb.

However, Appleyard’s part in Really Sorry, while maybe qualitatively sicker—handrail kickflip tailslide bigspinnery and all that—facilitated no such phenomenon. Maybe this is due to Courtney Love’s harpie-like voice and yucky body. Upon reflection, though, on a journey deep into the center of the mind, I stumbled upon the missing puzzle piece that opened the door to my obsession.

I realized why the song in Appleyard’s part is sick, even though it is horrible.

It multiples Cruel Intentions by Appleyard’s Sorry part to the power of nostalgia.

Few late Nineties films reflect the promise of the “dot com” tech boom like Cruel Intentions.  Those dudes you saw at the bar with clear Palm Pilots? They were gettin’ it. The potentials for manipulating money seemed limitless. Indeed, one could interpret Sarah Michelle Gellar’s breasts as beckoning symbols of the limitless promise of the coming decade.  The only teenager in the history of film who bedecked herself in an assortment of pantsuits, Gellar’s character in this movie is a study of over-the-top bitchiness, the aforementioned breasts just barely contained by the aforementioned pantsuits and supported by an intricate metal structure not unlike the Triborough Bridge. An even-more-over-the-top female of equivalent of Baldwin in Glengarry, she proclaims “I don’t fuck losers” instead of “coffee is for closers.” In addition, she does bumps of what we assume to be coke out of a custom-made coke bottle shaped like a cross.*

This is one of the most obvious examples of visual irony ever.

We first hear the Placebo track as we meet Ryan Phillipe’s character driving across said bridge, alongside the Mount Hebron (I think) cemetery in one of the most obvious examples of foreshadowing ever. One of the most interesting and appealing aspects about the retro-future NYC Sebastian inhabits is its total lack of hipsters. However, Sebastian aspires to more than a typical trust-fund rake. An early adopter, he uses basic hypertext markup language to construct an inappropriate website dedicated** to his therapists daughter. An anachronism, he keeps a leatherbound journal—not an “anglefire” domain name–in which he details his conquests.

It is reasonable to assume that Sebastian writes somewhat effectively, because he talks in that super annoying affect that probably comes from the director instructing him to turn the “annoying, fey rich guy” up to 11. Indeed, whoever wrote the script devoted himself to the Dawson’s  school of unrealistic dialogue. However, the dude displays a couple cool moves around the beginning of the third act:

A)that move when a girls coming up an escalator and you’re standing there at the top of the escalator waiting

B)that move where you put a girl in a car service and gingerly tap the roof twice after you close the door

Appleyard-level style, baby.

Is Cruel Intentions an effective movie? I have yet to reach a conclusion. At the time, everyone went apeshit aver the scene in which Gellar makes out with Selma Blair, but this was pre-internet. Ultimately, it falls into the  late-Nineties role of a cautionary tale about the dangers of manipulating human emotions like the “dot com”/day trader fuckers of the era manipulated capital. A chick flick version of Boiler Room, or some shit. Indeed, SMG’s character in CI and Ben Affleck’s equally over-the-top character in Boiler Room would have constituted the quintessential early 00’s power couple. Totally fucking over-the-top, bro. Quick—someone get Affleck on the horn. Got another pitch idea. What is he up to these days anyway–besides writing another film in which he plays another construction worker who works at that same construction site from Good Will Hunting?

Come to think of it, what became of that whole late-nineties power group? Freddie Prinze Jr., Van Der Beek, Charisma Carpenter (MAD UNDERRATED), Rachel Leigh Cook, Tara Reid– there are at least twenty names, five of which were in every film in the late Nineties. No artistic cohort has disappeared faster, except for maybe those mid-00’s “hood figgas” like Young Dro, Paul Wall, Lil’ Flip, Lil’ Keke, Lil’ Scrappy, Chamillionaire, Shawty Lo,*** etc.  Even more violently than music, however, whenever an actor falls out of the spotlight for a minute, the collective mind says to itself “fuck happened to them?”

Truth be told, I know pretty much nothing about this particular field, but I assume that one needs a specific acting job in order to act. A myriad of wheels—agents, sets, directors, contracts, shit like that–need to be in motion. That is to say, Freddie Prinze, Jr. doesn’t wake up and text everyone in his contacts asking “Yo you acting today? “ Scott Wolf doesn’t roll up to the local acting spot and try to get an acting sesh going. On the other hand, perhaps Jav and Fabs owe their recent success to retrofitting a skating mindset to acting. Indeed, I have long held the belief that skating molds one into a more workplace-effective person.

 Skating is different, though. If a skater hasn’t gotten coverage in a while, we, as a collective, assume that, in some form or fashion, they are out there skating on any given day. What they do is who they are. However a dude portrayed himself in a part functions as their identity for the next five or so years. This is slowly changing though, with the relentless kamikaze attack of web clips. Now, dudes are like “damn what happened to that dude?” when he hasn’t had an ad or “throwaway” footage in a couple months. This is  why the Chocolate–whose riders receive basically no internet coverage–video will kill it. For all their recent infatuation with transition, Rick and Mike keep it 90’s in this critical component.

I recall some recent Jeff Staple video in which he states that culture will soon become like oxygen–some shit’s that’s just “there.” We view it on a phone through some kind of feed–whatever the web 7.0 version of Twitter will be, I suppose–and then it vanishes. I feel this happening to me as I type this.  Truth be told, I have had to devise a system to keep up with internet coverage–a job at which I am currently failing. Hellaclips.com is useful, but I still have a bookmark folder devoted to internet skate footage that I “need” to watch. One of those good problems–like Marlo said.

ANYWAY, I’m sure there are some dedicated actors out there for whom the rewards are internal. However, in the collective zeitgeist, acting is a way to make a shitload of money by sitting around interrupted by brief periods of pretending to be someone else, which is something everyone who has a job does every day. If one holds down a job, one assumes a new identity every day when you get to work. The identity of a person who genuinely wishes his coworker has a good morning. Who takes interest in what your coworker did over the weekend. Who is excited to put out whatever fires one’s job demands.

Make no mistake—I am glad to have a job. Indeed, I hold true to the Great Depression attitude towards employment: “Don’t complain. You are fortunate to have a job. Be a team player.” I have no proof to support this, but I reckon that many Element riders harbor a similar sentiment.

I have no idea what those wacky Cruel Intentions kids are up to these days. Well, I have somewhat of an idea. Phillippe and Whitherspoon’s marriage imploded. Selma Blair—who was seen in the early 00’s on the Seaside boardwalk drunk and rocking a wifebeater—is doing some kind of acting, based on my rudimentary internet research. Gellar is on some show on the “CW” network in which she still looks good—kind of like Appleyard’s recent coverage.**** Nice to look at, but kind of just “there.” Stylish as fuck, but mostly just reminding us of the psychological devastation the past decade hath wrought.

At least she has a job, I guess.

So quick—get Spike on the horn. Only one thing can reignite that unstoppable  late-Nineties-USA vibe—a reboot of the Cruel Intentions franchise starring Appleyard, [Podium?/Street League] Erica, and @Shaymariaa.

There’s never been so much at stake.

*Is there a market out there for this type of drug nicknack?

**at least five years before Zuckerberg!

***in retrospect, it really was slightly foolish to buy that yellow Lamborghini

****For the record, I think his part, as well as Luan’s and Texeira’s, in Extremely Sorry was sick as fuck

statue in Lyon. skatable?

While contempleting your favorite pre-skating celebrities, have you ever considered which of them would probably have skated? Although I have not yet had the opportunity to turn this into a barstool conversation, I have incorporated it into an intricate mental game. Criteria? Dude must have been born before 1950. Besides that, I value badassery as the main indicator. Theodore Roosevelt, a staunch advocate of outdoor activities and an active lifestyle, probably would have had a mean f/s grind. Hemingway—grace under pressure and all that—probably could have worked the life lessons he learned in the Spanish Civil War into jumping down stuff. I can see F. Scott Fitzgerald skating through high school, then quitting to focus on a career as a socialite/alcoholic. Based on the weirdo outsiders with whom he associated in high school in Ham on Rye, I can visualize Buk skating, eventually morphing as the old dude who shows up alone at the park at dusk to kill it.

Risk, or some kind of activity fraught with it, serves as common denominator here. In the pre-WWII era, dudes hunted elephants, fought in wars in foreign countries, or, in the case of Antoine Marie Jean-Baptiste Roger de Saint Exupéry, flew planes for fun and profit. Aviators.  I reckon that anyone who would fly a propeller plane from Paris to Saigon for shits and giggles would have skated, had he been born seventy-five year later.

We mainly know Saint-Exupéry as the author of Le Petit Prince.  According to rudimentary internet research, he composed it one summer/fall in Long Island (!) while on brief hiatus from his aviation career. He conceived its premise while in a state of thirst-and-hunger-induced hallucination after crashing in the Sahara in 1935. A  pre-existentialist manifesto of sorts, Le Petit Prince relates the tale of a pilot/artist who meets the protagonist after crashing in a desert. Only le petit prince can see the narrator’s art for its true essence.

Concurrently, Fred Mortagne was setting in motion a similar movement in Europa, and, most notably, Sorry. Similarly to catching on the French House movement ten years later, it is only recently that I truly appreciated Mortagne’s oevre. My one filmer bro worships the dude, and rightly so. What I previously dismissed as unimaginative #jumpingdownstuff kills it with the quick cuts, mindblowing spots, total disdain for slow motion, and apt music supervision—in  Arto’s part in particular.

When I resumed skating after a lengthy sabbatical four or five years later, one of the first videos I digested was They Don’t Give a Fuck About Us­—on the short list of best video titles ever and the even shorter list of best Euro vids ever. I am not sure who filmed this vid, but it supercharged my Euro obsession, adding a hyperprogressive tech-ledge element that infused my nascently-rediscovering mind with possibilities. Ten years earlier, Rocco and Socrates had created a world in which Ramona, Seventh Street, the Beryl Banks, and Lockwood were seemingly on the same block. When I watch TDGAFAU now, Daft Punk and them have added a new dimension to the already-intense Euro Theater of the mind–an aural counterpart to the pristine football field-sized marble plazas, Louis XIV-era office buildings, and textbook switch back 5/0’s, hinting at what lays in wait post-sesh in the city of lights. Marfaing–up there on the short list of dudes who should be millionaires from skating–tattooed his name on the metaphorical ass [nullus] of a spot like few others have.  Has there ever been an iller dismount than his catch on the f/s tail flip out?

I absorbed Bon Appetit with a similar “spot pRon” sensibility, but Mortagne’s approach with this Cliché vid, while equally as masterful, was more micro (as opposed to the macro of Sorry), exploring the spots that lurked in narrow Euro streets. Lucas Puig’s last part therein introduced him to the world, and created the concept of “French Mariano.” Indeed, the part, with effortless gap switch 360 flips, nosegrinds that balance at a perfect forty-degree angle, and seemingly anachronistic heelflips on flat, creates an alternate-universe in which Virtual Reality-era Guy resided in Bordeaux instead of Burbank and filmed a full video part. The mirror-image bigspin heelflips at the water gap spot also foreshadow the hallmark of the super-elite—tricks both ways in the same line– into which Puig had suddenly thrust himself. Also, Jean-Baptiste’s guest appearance in the part holds a deeper meaning. Just as Saint-Exupéry’s** aviator survived countless WWII reconnaissance missions, Jean-Baptiste survived the battles of San Francisco and Los Angeles, respectively,  in the 1990’s skate wars. And just as the aviator discovered a seemingly otherworldly young man in the middle of nowhere, so did Jean-Baptiste and Mortagne.

Just as They Don’t Give a Fuck About Us facilitated my reconceptualization of Mortagne’s visionary status, another group of visionaries –Carroll and them—facilitated my nascent rediscovery of French House. That one Lakai “We Are Your Friends” web clip was the catalyst. The specific combination of dope-ass skating and sick-ass upbeat music got me hype enough to charge a machine gun nest. I commenced genre re-exploration. Funny how, 18-or-so years after Questionable, Carroll’s musical taste proved so influential yet again. Granted, he might not have personally music-supervised the “We Are Your Friends” clip, but his latest shoe commercial is sufficient evidence. Not to mention he was observed dancing (or something to that effect) at the LCD Soundsystem show at the Hollywood Bowl.

ANYWAY, exploring a newly fascinating musical genre was way different pre-internet. My fiscal disciple game was beyond reproach. Allocating enough for one cd per week, sometimes the dudes at the music store would actually let you listen to the shit before you laid down the hard-earned cash. This time, I just watched some “greatest French house tracks” vids,  gaining somewhat of a foothold. Soundcloud also kills it. Downloading and listening to the #NPBS repeatedly during transcendent solo miniramp sessions this summer pulled me further into the vortex. Instant access to every song ever is one of the best inventions of the human race so far.  At this point it has superseded, like, the cotton gin and all that shit. It’s like an AI version of that girl at a party in the 90’s who would rip a couple lines and proceed to rifle through her cd binder, playing fifteen seconds each of 200 songs.

So almost four years after possibly the most mind-numbing part in FF, Lucas stars in the first Transworld Pro Spotlight Internet Solo Video Part. It remains to be seen whether this sounds the death knell for This Summer’s Transworld Video. Regardless, these solo video parts have become de rigeur for any dude aspiring to “best dude out” status. Pretty sure Guy already said Lucas was the best dude out, though. ANYWAY, I don’t know if there are any legit French writers or film directors out now, but even if there are, Puig is the apex of modern-day French culture. Like the pioneers of the French House movement,*** he selectively appropriates the past (reg. noseslide to fakie in a line) while constantly progressing in his own genre of immaculate, sick-as-fuck execution (sw flip bsnb in the middle of a ledge and the ender). He is Le Petit Prince at the final stages of his tale, flying around the solar system, visiting various asteroids—San Francisco and Compton, for example—and apprehending the reality and individuals that inhabit them.  How he reacts will define him. Perhaps the post-credits full-kit focus presages a future Celine-like existential crisis.

Or maybe it was just hot as fuck in LA that day.

*such complete literalism would not be seen again until the Akon/Snoop Dogg collaboration “I Wanna Fuck You”

**from Lyon btw

***pretty sure this was an actual movement, not like how every aspiring rapper on Twitter is on some “IT’S A MOVEMENT!” type shit

Demos are few and far between ’round these parts. Vis a vis Thursday’s DGK/Zero in-store/demo, I am going to attempt something web. 3.0 and try live-tweeting it. More importantly, this will enable me to add social media strategist to me resume.

In addition, I have an interview tentatively lined up that should be interesting. What else should you expect? Definitely fanning out over seeing Rodrigo Teixeira skate in real life. One of the highest compliments one can pay an artist is reaching for his cd/video part when one comes home after a night out, as a bridge between whatever went down that evening and what awaits behind the wall of sleep. Of late the piece in question has been TX’s parts in the Firm vid.

ANYWAY, follow or lurk @carbonite1994 for the aforementioned content.

A cult of sorts surrounded the film Dazed and Confused amongst the dudes I hung out with in high school.  Aside from the usual incessant quoting, there was a drinking (or whatever) game in which one chose a character and did everything that character did for the duration of the movie.  For example—if that character drank a beer, you drank a beer. It should be noted that I never saw this game in play, just heard about it apocryphally.

Dazed and Confused continues to be an interesting cultural artifact because it encapsulates cultural rituals that have been lost to the sands of time. Hazing? Lawsuit. Driving around randomly socializing with people? Gas is mad too expensive. Driving a hundred or so miles just to get in line to purchase tickets to a concert by a popular musical acts? I don’t even know if going to concerts by popular musical acts is still a “thing.” Granted, there may be some folk who round up the crew and cruise to the local arena to score tix for the YMCMBxMMG tour, but for the most part the internet has doomed that ritual to obsolescence. At least we don’t have to redial 1-800-TICKETMASTER for 3 hours.

However, two rituals that continue to thrive are SONG OF THE SUMMER, and, for dudes that skate, canonizing the video part of the summer. Before we continue, it will be productive to establish criteria for SOTS. First, it needs to be populist–preferably played ad nauseum on Sirius Hits 1. If the only place one hears/sees it is on some list on GQ.com or some shit, forget about it. Secondly–and this will come into play later–optimal release date for SOTS is February or March, in order to coincide with spring break. Thirdly, one cannot contrive a song of the summer, neither by employing Roscoe Dash for the hook nor by incessant #hashtaggery, RTing, or other Twitter-related forms of self-promotion, including the elusive self-RT. Shit needs to happen organically.  That being said, let us get into several candidates for Video Part of the Summer, as viewed through the prism of several candidates for SOTS.

1. Dave Bachinsky in Shape Deuce / Katy Perry “T.G.I.F.”

Back-to-back SOTS happens even more infrequently than repeat NBA championships. Perry’s attempt includes seconhand-embarassment-inducing lyrics and a saxophone solo that may or may not have been performed by Kenny G. It warrants mentioning that the new M83 song also contains a sax solo, as does that one Lady Gaga song and the Jimmy Carlin battle commander. I don’t know if this phenomenon is ironic or post-ironic, but in the course of writing this post I conducted some rudimentary internet research and discovered this Slate piece about this self-same cultural phenomenon. Maybe I should start reading that site.

One thing is for certain: you gotta be real quick on the draw [nullus] to scoop Slate in any kind of pop culture analysis.

ANYWAY, Bachinsky smokes no cigarettes through cheeseburgers in this part. However, he comes off like PJ Ladd’s* redneck Western Mass. cousin, or some shit. Over the past few years, Think** has quietly assembled one of the illest squads out–specifically Bachinsky, Milligan, and that Fuenzalida guy with the sick part in the MIA vid. The company hasn’t been this cool since Eric Ricks was on. However, from their most recent internet promo video, their target market niche remains unclear–blues rock dirtbag perhaps? In any event, I look forward to any video effort they release in the near future.

Bachinsky, should, by all accounts, be rich. However, that might just implode his whole vibe–smoking cigars through expensive cheeseburgers and all. In addition to applying Ladd-esque concepts to Philly steps and transition, he also jumps down stuff in interesting ways. However, the core of what makes Bachinsky interesting is the “never switch” ethos. Similar to a Kalis. Same camo five-panel. Same loose-fitting Venture AWAKE shirt. Same loose-fitting jeans. In addition, he also gives off a vibe that if he wasn’t skating, he would be fixing cars or working in a machine shop or some shit. Like an Oyola “thing,” if Oyola had an exponentially more evolved skill set. Maybe I am overromanticizing here; as I mentioned on the twitter, part of the reason why Oyola’s skating continues to fascinate people the world over is some kind of Springsteen vibe of authenticity, where if the dude wasn’t skating he would be working at a carwash or driving a truck or some shit.

There’s no need to TGIF when one lives in a a seven-day weekend.

So imagine my surprise when Oyola reveals in his EL that he does, in actuality, drive a truck for a living. This is like discovering an alternate universe in which Springsteen’s career shit the bed after The River and he ended up working construction in Mercer County.

I would also put forth the theory that a major element of what captivates us about Bachinsky, Oyola, and East Coast skating in general is the more developed cutural history of that part of the country. Note: I am not hypothesizing that this makes east coast skating qualitatively “better” or some shit, but the more developed cultural history enables one to make mental connections that add layers of meaning to skating. For example, New York exudes money and sex. DC oozes power and money. Philadelphia, with its Revolutionary War-era narrow streets, reflects the bro-centric ideals that made America cool in the first place.

Finally, I’m psyched that someone finally skated to “Atlantis.”  And Bill Simmons would probably dig this Teen Wolf – inspired re-edit.

2. Morgan Smith in This is Not a Test / David Guetta “Where Them Girls At?” (any remix without the Nicki Minaj verse)

I drive by this spot at least four times a day.

“Where them girls at?” A universal lament–or call to arms, depending on one’s point of view. Again, we find an artist attempting to recreate SOTS transcendence. However, while the chorus almost gets us there, the lyrics lack the narrative complexity of “Sexy Bitch”–SOTS 2009.

Similarly, Morgan Smith rides the wave of his recent Social Withdrawal part and victory in BATB4 into this summer’s Blind amateur video. Re: BATB4 — I am unsure which of the Simmons “levels of losing” PJ’s loss this time reaches–possible “Alpha Dog” or “Stomach Punch”–but the recent B’s cup performance leaves a PJ BATB victory as sole remaining Boston “sports” grail.

ANYWAY, upon viewing This Is Not A Test, Weiss’ non-inclusion of “In the Evening” –which he used in the trailer–vexed me somewhat. ‘Cause that’s the best time for skating in in the summertime–in the evening. In the evening, or six o’clock in the morning. That’s what effective music supervision does–adds layers of meaning. However, Weiss’ thoroughly middle-of-the-road (in a good way) taste in classic rock lead him to choose “Spirit of Radio” for Smith’s part. I always thought Rush*** was underused in skate vids. You had that one Jamie Thomas part, Oyola in Static 2, the SHS intro, and outstanding first-part music supervision in Serge’s part in the Sub Zero vid. Actually, come to think of it, that seems an acceptable amount of use. I always thought it would be tight if someone edited a ten-minute promo to one of their ten-minute prog epics. Indeed, Smith ostensibly could have compiled enough footage to skate to La Villa Strangiato  in its entirety.

Like Bachinsky, Smith displays a propensity for five-panel hats and lines at Raleigh Courthouse. That one line there that ends on beat just as Neal Peart propels the song into the bridge (or post-chorus or whatever) is, at press time, the line of the summer and one of the best ever at that spot. It also pleases this site to see someone riding 7.75-ish boards.  However, unlike Bachinsky, Smith has focused in on loading dock ledges as his chosen medium.  Perhaps his next part, in conjunction with a pro power move, will constitute his Moving Pictures.

Pudwill “Torey Pudwill’s Big Bang Theory Video Part” / “Tupac Back”

Will the Lex Luger scary-horror-movie-music/Wagnerian-death-march style of beatmaking ever fade from popularity? Not that I am complaining–Ferrari Boyz is the only full-length lp release to which I have looked forward in the past five years or so. “Tupac Back” functions like this summer’s “B.M.F.,” which was probably last summer’s hip-hop  SOTS. I base this on another SOTS indicator–number of times one hears kids singing it–like a mental patient–while skating.

ANYWAY, in this case, Tupac is not (yet) back, but another early-Nineties Bay Area resident is, after a fashion. A couple years ago I deemed Pudwill evolutionary Sanchez, and since then his penchant for mind-numbing trick selection fueled by power and speed has grown exponentially. Note that the number of pushes before the head-high backside tailslide (seven) equals the number of pushes before Sanchez’s f/s flip at 7th street. I’m also suprised it took almost twenty years after Sanchez’ (mind-munbing at the time) hardflip for someone to do one over a table off flat. If this rate of progressions persists, next year someone is due to switch 360 flip over a table off flat–if someone hasn’t done one already. I think that is some kind of LA urban legend or some shit.

However, vibe is the critical difference between Pudwill and his antecedent. Sanchez–head case, NorCal cool guy. In contrast to that (and Oyola’s mayorization of Love as well), Torey’s overall approach — as seen on the twitter, etc — suggests a SoCal-style no-holds-barred party. More chicks, more beer, more weed. More flip in/outs. And everyone’s invited.  A couple of days after this part came out, some kids at the park were suggesting that he would be sicker if he just did power moves, like the aforementioned head-high b/s tail. That assessment is purely subjective, but kind of like saying that Yngwie Malmsteen would be so much better if he played tasteful Clapton-esque shit. Dudes like Yngwie and Pudwill do what they do because they can.

Wes Kremer “This Summer’s Transworld Video” / YC and Future”Racks”

Technically, “Racks” falls short of the criteria for SOTS I outlined above; according to rudimentary internet research, the song came out in late November of last year. However, at a certain point, a song transcends Song of the Summer and becomes Song of the Year; “Racks” deserves a spot in that conversation.

What makes “Racks” so fucking badass? Qualitatively, the vocals are like nothing I have heard before–even within the realm of autotuned singing/rapping. It doesn’t matter what they are saying, the meaning is conveyed by the manner in which they say it. In addition, Young Chris and Future invert a long-standing popular music tradition. Instead of matching depressing words with happy music (i.e. that “Last Kiss” song that Pearl Jam covered, “Girlfriend in a Coma,” and a million others), they synthesize celebratory music with an anxiety-ridden melody. Indeed, the first time I heard it, I assumed they were complaining about skyrocketing interest rates (ratesonratesonrates). However, the authors also go into great detail about the conflicts created by rack accumulation, including obtaining naturalization status for a lady friend and an addiction to a certain brand of jeans that look like something that “The Situation” wears. I am curious to why I have not yet heard a remix–classic tactic for extending SOTS life expectancy–on the satellite radio. Perhaps because it’s approximately as long as Rush’s 2112 overture.

ANYWAY, back to the video part. After the first 1/2 sec. of early Nineties Pete Rock music supervision I’m sold. Funny how, with some video parts, all one needs to hear is the first couple notes of the song and its apparent that some sick shit is about to commence. Carroll’s FF part comes to mind.

Although nothing in this part achieves the badassery levels of the sw heel up/bigspin/fakie hards line from last years DC web part, shit is badass–the most badass Transworld vid part since Bob a couple years ago, or possibly even Welsh.  And similar to “Racks,” said badassery stems moreso from the way in which Kremer does shit than what he does–sw crooked to regular, for example. Seems to keep it local as well, which I admire. Must be sick to live in a town with a multitude of downhill ditches with skatable “coping,” or whatever. On the other hand, the City Hall clip makes me wonder if any East Coast footage will surface in the near future.

Finally, as pilot light noted, dude is well-rounded as fuck.  Kremer undoubtedly knows that it is essential for a contemporary gentleman to be well-rounded, whether engaged in a furious barstool discussion about the best Rush record, ordering an expensive cheeseburger, conducting reconnaissance missions for loading dock ledges, or selecting the song that encapsulates one’s summer priorities.

And if you ever ask a girl on the beach about the book she’s reading and she replies “Oh, it’s about radical faith,” run.

*As noted in this well-executed review on quartersnacks

**All-Time Think Top Five: Shao, Shafer, Ricks, Johnston, Smyth

***I saw Rush in March 1992. Truth be told, at the time I was more psyched on Primus, who opened. Copped the Pat Duffy shirt, which has since been lost to the sands of time.

Dig, if you will, the denoument of a seemingly endless Thursday afternoon and night of skating. After skating up to midtown from Union Square, fucking with CBS and/or Time-Life and possibly the Huf ledge, you ascend the steps of your building to a narrow multi-roomated apartment. One’s sole lifelines to the outside world? Dial-up UseNet and the Strech and Bob show on 89.9 WKCR.

For anyone that came up in the Nineties and fucked with hip-hop to any extent, The Stretch and Bobbito show on Columbia University’s WKCR 89[tec]9 held Torah status. Furthermore, in the DJ Clue era of mixtape yelling, the shows were also cool to listen to on one’s walkman.* They usually started out with some rare groove type shit, like “Uzuri” by Catalyst or some shit. Knowing, to list but one example,  that the latter song was sampled on “Lefleur Leflah Eshkoshkah” was a particularly nerdy form of apocryphal pre-internet knowledge, similar to memorizing esoteric skate video soundtracks. This is the main reason why the soundtrack to the first few Girl/Choc. vids killed it so hard.

Girl/Chocolate video music supervision functioned as a nexus point for my hip-hop and skating nerdery.

ANYWAY, this post is about the connection between Nineties backpacker-type hip-hop and skating. The main lifeline for this relationship was Rap City, a television show on BET from 1989 until a few years ago, I think. Though many artists rocked backpacks in the early Nineties, the “Rock Around the Clock” of backpackerism was “Check Da Back Pack” by Rough House Survivors, a group whose main claim to fame was a Clyde Singleton cosign in SLAP in 1993.  I don’t know where those dudes came from or whate happened to them—Heavy D is in the video, so maybe they were part of that whole New Rochelle/Mt. Vernon thing back then.

That song sounded the battle cry, but Black Moon, Grand Puba, etc. also repped backpacks. Why? Backpackerism was populism. It went hand in hand with the emphasis on “knowledge,” also reflected by the popularity of those AACA sweatshirts. However, judging from  the aforementioned Roughouse Survivors video, the organizational strategies therein were more akin to middle school – crumpled up sheets of notebook paper, etc. In any event, if one embarks on any type of urban assault mission–skating, bombing, whatever–a backpack is essential. In contrast, in the modern day hip-hop landscape, only a very specific type of backpack holds merit: brown leather, Louis Vuitton brand, containing “that work.”

***

One can trace the origins of backpackerism and skating’s connection to Andy Howell’s graffiti-inspired designs in the Useless Wooden days. However, Carroll’s inclusion of “Burnt” in Questionable opened the floodgates. I made Heiro t-shirts in my high school graphics tapes and sent away for physical mix tapes. I don’t know if those Heriroglyphics dudes skated or knew Jovontae or what, but the significance of the cultural mileu of the Bay Area undoubtedly played a part here.

Even though Carroll was ostensibly not going to school at the time, I recall him mentioning in this one SLAP (in physical magazine form) interview that he would watch Rap City and wait for the “That’s When Ya Lost” video to come on. Indeed, timing is everything, and the aptness of Rap City‘s 4 PM (after school, yet before prime skating time) time slot cannot be overempasized. This form of synergy peaked when Souls of Mischief made a cameo at the ’93 Back to the City contest, plugging their new single while, of course, rocking backpacks. Ironically, I seem to recall Casual mentioning in another interview in SLAP  that he doesn’t wear backpacks because they make one look like a schoolboy, or some shit. I wonder what happened to that dude—besides having his voice stolen by Mike Jones.

note snapback attached to locker loop: pre-#swag #swag

ANYWAY, on the other side of the continent, similar connections were being forged. Zoo’s partnership with Stretch and Bob stands out the most, as seen in that 411 Zoo industry section and this ad. Oddly enough, I recall paying a visit to their studio as well. It wasn’t the one in the ad, though—it was in a church near the Columbia campus—I think because the WKCR studios were being renovated or some shit.

Anyway, the main thing I recall was that the studio was spacious and clean as fuck—the polar opposite of what one would assume a grimey, graffiti-strewn bastion of hip-hoppery would look like. I think we went there so my friend could ask Bobbito to plug his drum & bass nite. I don’t think he ever did. For all you kids out there, drum & bass was the Nineties version of dubstep, or some shit.

I always assumed that Stretch and Bob knew Zoo folk from that late Eighties downtown scene or some shit like that. Indeed, Fat Beats, the “Supreme” of record stores, was a three minute skate down 8^th street from Astor Place, and I often paid a visit there after skating for records to play on my half-assed college radio show.  I usually wore one of those LL Bean “school”-type backpacks, which conveniently accommodated 12” vinyl records in the smaller zip-up compartment. However, this style of backpack looked bigger than it actually was, prompting one Menace pro to comment “Why you always roll with mad shit, man?” I am not sure if this was a rhetorical question or not.

Along those lines, the Nineties produced a handful of examples of skating while wearing a backpack. Most of the ones I recall are from Virtual­—the above Carroll street gap from the #triplescreen intro and that one switch kickflip indy in Colin McKay’s part. In terms of actual day-to-day street skating, at one point I started wearing a Triple Five Soul lumbar pack—an idea I appropriated from Jay Maldonado. My thought process at the time was as follows: positioning weight over one’s waist, as opposed to one’s shoulders, would alleviate back pain cause by skating dozens of blocks wearing a backpack. What I cannot recall, though, is how the lumbar pack came into my possession. Entering the Triple Five Soul store and stating “yo lemme get that lumbar pack” does not seem like something I would do. Who the fuck knows, though—one’s memory can only accommodate so much.

ANYWAY, the synergy between Zoo dudes and Bobbito (who could frequently be found lurking around Union Square) and them led to one of the most innovative music supervision moves of all time—the Mix Tape soundtrack. At the time I wasn’t too psyched on it (Ill Al Skratch?) but in hindsight it comes off as innovative, like an actual cultural artifact from a certain time and place. Furthermore, Mix Tape subconsciously and metacognitively drew parallels between early-to-mid-Nineties skating and early-to-mid-Nineties hip-hoppery. As my friend once said, the vibe at the time was that anyone who could noseslide a handrail and/or kickflip backside tailslide a shin-high ledge could get hooked up. Similarly, dudes back then scored record deals off one verse (AZ and Cappadonna, off the top of my head). Granted, these were transcendent, life-changing verses, most of which I can still recite verbatim. Fast-forward to now, when dudes kfbsnb handrails only to be forgotten the next day in the landslide of internet footage. On the musical side of things, the main example that comes to mind is Lil B, who has produced thousands (or whatever the case may be) of songs with a worldwide following and is still, as far as I know, unsigned. Of course,  Byron Crawford would tell you that Lil B has been signed all along as part of some illuminati conspiracy or some shit like that.

ANYWAY, as the Nineties chugged along, backpacker-type hip-hop became the music of choice for elite dudes, in locales as unlikely as the Carlsbad/SD area. Enter Timecode, notable for A)the obscure KMD remix instrumental in Kalis’ part B) the use of the “Verbal Attack” instrumental and C) whatever obscure west coast backpacker contributed the song in Dyrdek’s part. Indeed, before inviting Three Six Mafia to perform at his home, Dyrdek’s brief stint as a record company mogul yielded (to my knowledge) one compilation, mostly remembered for that one song in the DC Euro Supertour 411 feature. Simultaneously, other early Nineties luminaries were fucking with backpackerism,  specifically, Ron Allen, who displayed lyrical prowess in Mike York’s song in Mouse. Lest we forget, Allen had previously created skate rock-type musical experimentation in Hokus Pokus and that ambient-type stuff in Soldier’s Story. The dude never got due credit for being a late 20^th-century real-life renaissance man. Kind of like a bizzaro @jeremerogers, or some shit.

Interestingly, when The Muska’s previously unreleased part from Welcome to Hell recently surfaced, it kind of blew my mind that he skated to “Releasing Hypnotical Gasses”—basically the Van Halen “Eruption” of backpackerism. Ironic that one of the dudes responsible for burying the early Nineties aesthetic by jumping down stuff would make such a choice. 411, needing cheap musical content, also became a prominent showcase for backpacker artists,  eventually leading to that one “Chaos” segment with the video for “B-Boy Document 2” interspersed with the skating. Sidenote: Rawkus was financed by Rupert Murdoch’s son, or some shit. This was also ironic.

It is hard to say exactly when the love affair between backpackerism and skating concluded. Perhaps it was when the first internet montage was edited to Modest Mouse or “Electric Feel.”  Maybe it was a one-two punch of backlashes against The Storm and Yesterday’s Future. In any event, as the Nineties concluded, The Storm facilitated collaboration between esoteric underground hip-hop artists and esoteric schoolyard tech skaters. This partnership made perfect sense—complicated-ass rhymes accentuated complicated-ass tricks. Indeed, both activities utilize mad mental power from the cerebellum, or some shit. Kind of like how if one is skating a thirteen-foot concrete bowl, it helps to listen to, say, the Slayer cover of “Witching Hour” by Venom. This type of skating is governed not by the cerebellum, but by the medulla oblongata.

Are there any neurology residents out there willing to conduct research to verify the above thesis?

***

Hold up: I almost forgot one critical piece to this puzzle. I would be remiss to omit the origin of the term itself. My theory is this: the term was invented by a gentleman from Queens known only as “GoldenChild,” a frequent poster on the rec.music.hip-hop Usenet message board. Usenet, invented at Duke in 1979, was basically a post-BBS, pre-html way for academic and mostly-AOL folk to communicate. Kind of like the internet itself, it exists “out there,” in computer server rooms in colleges around the world. The main difference between Usenet and modern messageboard culture was this: Usenet was text-only, so it could run on UNIX or whatever-the-fuck operating system. This made it convenient for those of us who accessed the internet at 56Kbps. Concurrently, one could not rely on images or ironic Flash videos to convey one’s point. One needed to literally paint a picture with words.**  Indeed, looking back at Google’s Usenet archive while researching this post, the sheer word count of many of the posts on rmhh blew my mind. However, their verbosity made them memorable. For example, GoldenChild presented his character in Steinbeckian detail: he lived in Corona/Flushing, worked at a Best Buy, wore those goggles that were popular at the time, banged strippers, chased jello shots with Henny & coke, and most importantly, accessed the internet via WebTV. Anyway, refer to this post and the below one for but a few examples of him going in on the backpackers of the world—kind of like a web 1.0 hip-hop version of ChildoftheGhetto of SLAP infamy.

***

Last winter I went to a “backpacker nite” monthly at a local bar. A friend of a friend spins there, so I brought my records in hopes of getting on at one point. As it happened, the other DJ was AWOL, so I ended up trading off with the dude pretty much all nite. This was fun as fuck; I re-learned how to use a mixer within like five minutes, and even attempted some ill-advised beat matching. At one point though, the other DJ gave me the following advice:

“Play some of my records, play the same record twice—it doesn’t matter. Just keep it around 120 BPM*** and keep these scenester bitches on the dance floor.”

Truth be told, I cannot recall anyone ever providing me with more salient advice. Pulling out some obscure Pete Rock remix is cool n’ shit, and we may derive some kind of existential meaning from it. At the end of the day, though, this particular brand of hip-hop monasticism (or obscure skate video music supervision knowledge) is irrelevant—especially if any form of expert knowledge is accessible to anyone on the planet. If you aren’t making bitches get loose, you really aren’t doing shit. James Spader’s character on The Office was right.

This is a universal truth.

*no Berra

**not literally, but you know what I mean

***might have been more, might have been less

In the collective mind’s eye of early-Nineties skating, every metropolis housed an Embarcadero-like plaza, over which presided an EMB-like hierarchy. Indeed, one of the most evocative moments of the recent Kalis Epicly Later’d was his ridiculously long line at that Dallas spot–City Place I think it was called.  As city center plaza skating recedes into the sands of time, the value of pre-internet documentation of its practice increases exponentially.

ANYWAY, in Richmond, VA,  Shafer Court was the spot–the first place we went after the oldest dude in our little crew got a driver’s license. The first place in which I felt that primal “fight-or-flight” response of being in a heavy session with some heavy dudes. There was only one way to do it; in that moment, I realized the true meaning of Danny Way’s personal philosophy. I had to move it or lose it.

Truth be told, I think I lost it.

ANYWAY, Lonny Peoples became one of the main dudes in the Shafer hierarchy and one of the few from VA (not counting Northern VA) to “do thangs” in skating out west. His career spans the golden age of vert to the weed-hazed heyday of Pier 7. The interview that follows is a window into a largely undocumented era.

First question is a pretty standard, cliche intro question–where are you from and when and how did you get into skating?

Newport News,VA was where I got introduced to a skateboard by my next-door neighbors at the age of eleven years old.

What was the scene like on the east coast in the late Eighties/early Nineties?

Sick, because whoever you met took you in. And you just ended up meeting people and you did your thing; you had a place to crash. It’s not like that anymore.

Did you ever skate Trashmore? That place was a big deal when I was in, like, fifth grade.

I learned to skate vert on Trashmore with Bushka [Vidal] and Sergei [Ventura] and Henry and Mike Ruscini and all them.

Was there a big contest circuit on the east coast back then?

There were the NSA contests, which was like the national skateboarding league. That was what that was, and that was the biggest thing.

Who was killing it back then on that circuit?

When it has to come down to it back then, it would have to be Bushka, Andy Stone, all the DC boys…

What about Brian Shafer? Didn’t he used to skate vert ‘n shit?

Brian Shafer, yeah. He skated in all the NSA Contests.

How did you hear about Shafer Court and when did you first skate there?

When I moved up to Richmond in 1992 I was introduced to Shafer Court, and I skated it religiously because I only lived a block away. My rent was sixty bucks a month. And I skated it every day, man. It was actually the Pulaski of Richmond. My first ad ever in a magazine was in Shafer Court–in the first Slap.

Describe what Shafer was like in the early Nineties–the setup, what kind of shit there was to skate there, how many people would usually be there, that kind of shit.

Ali Mills - stage gap ollie from "Useless Wooden Toys"

Shafer Court would have a usual day of about twenty or thirty people a day. The setup was nice; you had a whole block. A long street, a curb, you had a ledge, you had a stage, you had gaps, you had the benches down at the end. You could skate there and no one would ever bother you. And you got to see free shows–the Chili Peppers, Fugazi played there, Quicksand…

Did you ever go up to Pulaski?

Yeah Pulaski was like my home away from home, so all my homies were there, everything. Good times.

What was the craziest trick you ever saw go down at Shafer?

Probably a fakie ollie fakie 5/0 on the big ledge on the commons, which is over knee high. Back in that day, that was the hardest trick.

Didn’t Sheffey ollie over a car there, like one of those little MG’s or some shit?

I didn’t hear about Sheffey ollieing a car. He was down at Oregon Hill hanging out with us, and he was ripping that up–over a stand-up garbage can. But a car? Nah I never heard that one.

What was the deal with that company Psychic Sun?

Psychic Sun was a company that I rode for–me and Brian Howard. That was Chris Bailey, so if anyone out there knows “Stymey,” that’s him. He was kinda shaky, but he gave me my first ad ever in skateboarding.

Who killed Shafer Court the hardest in your opinion?

In my opinion? Not being conceited, but basically me and Alan Siegler.

Do you remember anyone doing anything over the stage gap besides ollieing it?

No. You know, that’s the funniest thing–I’ve never seen anyone do anything else. Unless Alan kickflipped it; I don’t really know. I heard he kickflipped it, but I never saw it.

When and how did you find out that Shafer got shut down, and how did you react?

Actually, I had  just come back from San Francisco. I was living in San Francisco, came back on tour, and went through Shafer Court and noticed they had gravel [where the street used to be]. Basically almost cried, because that was an era that shouldn’t have ended. Then I heard they got fucked in the long run because it wasn’t satisfactory for handicapped people, so they ended up having to change it to what it is now. The only thing left at Shafer Court now is the ledge.

How did the opportunity to go out to SF come about?

With a phone call from Greg Carroll from Venture. He told me “What are you doing there? You need need to come out here and get exposure, because it’s long overdue.” So in twenty-four hours I packed my bags and left. I went out there and struggled my ass off. I had to prove myself. Ended up staying out there eight years.

Describe the scene in SF at the time; was Embarcadero still the main spot or had the pier era begun?

Nah that wasn’t the big spot anymore; it was more like the pier was getting started. Me, Karl Watson, Henry Sanchez, Spencer Fujimoto–we all were roomates on 618 Fell St. We all had our shit goin’ on there. It was a new era, and Pier 7 was it.

One thing about Henry Sanchez that no one knows is he skates vert. He skates vert, he skates transition, and he loves skating. I love him to death knowing that he skates everything. He never knew I skated transition either until we went to a demo in Sacramento. He goes “you skate [vert]?” I was like “Yeah, you too?”  The next thing you know we were skating vert.

Describe an average day in the skate life in SF back then.

An average day? We’d wake up, we’d see who had the most weed, we’d see who was selling what and then turn around and head out to the pier. We’d skate there from basically mid-afternoon until dusk, then turn around and head out to the bars, selling product the whole way.

How did that company Generation that you rode for come about?

That was Steve Roug, who basically ran Spitfire, Thunder, Indy–everything back in the day. My best friend Kit Erickson also had a lot to do with that.  He was a big influence on street skating, and I ended up getting involved in Generation through Kit. It was a great thing until we lost him.

What led to you moving back out East?

Because this is home–where my family is, where my true friends are, and other than that, man, this is home. Always will be.

Same with me, kinda–the quality of life is a little more relaxed down here…

This is like my best saying–it’s always nice to leave, and it’s always nice to come home. And Virginia–no matter what part of Virginia–will always be home.

Who helped you out the most on the industry side of things?

I would have to say Drake Jones–a big influence on my life, and he dealt with Deluxe ’cause he was pro for Real. He helped me out a lot. Greg Carroll, the whole Think crew, Keith Cochrane, everybody like that.

What are you up to nowadays?

Skateboarding as much as possible and working all the time. Just picked up new sponsors recently, and, other than that, moving back to Richmond, VA where I haven’t live since ’92.

You said you just picked up some new sponsors; this is your chance to plug your shit…

My board company Outlook Skateboards, Burley Wheels, Royal Trucks ,WRV Virginia Beach, and Spartan Energy Drink which is coming out real soon.

What’ up with Royals?

I love ridin’ em; I rode for Venture for 15 years. It was so hard to make the transition to a different truck, but I went with the crew that I know, which is Greg Carroll and his brother Mike and everything like that.

How would you compare skating transition–i.e. pools/bowls–to vert and to street, and which do you enjoy skating more? Has it always been that way?

Actually, when it comes to that category–everything. No matter what’s ever been put in front of me, I’ve skating everything there was to skate. Not scared. Basically, pull over the van and if there’s a hot curb i’ma hit it.

homies roll up
pound one or two before the vid starts
these functions usually start punctually
old heads and groms mingle outside
could it be? i fear it is so
remember the Mind Field premiere? this is an even worse ratio
bicycle girl decided not to show

olde-tymey-as-fuck theater
kaleidoscope chandelier
as homie vid trailers explode onscreeen
i fall into an allergy medication/air conditioning-induced docile state
reminiscent of olden tymes
when gentlemen and ladies sought refuge from the noontyme sun
darkened, empty matinee
coca-extract beverage slaked thirst

INTRO

expected to hear "oye como va"
rood
ro-wad
flashback to Lambert in Silver
a vid i traded for Best of 411 #3
regret nothing
forrest edwards stairs

HARDY

alabama blacksnake
pause
rail/stair berserker assault
channeling gentleman on Molly Hatchet album covers
gonz/sheff down clipper, pass the advil

DONNELLY

ziegfeld's
long island city
SF
cuffs, pom beanie
current
hyphy is dead
or is it? 

PERELSON

lip tricks as ledge
respect
not even Hosoi
looks cool on Mega Ramp 

TORGERSON

met a girl, last weekend
from twin city suburbs
forgot to ask
if she had purified herself in the waters of Lake Minnetonka
better off, probably
old-ass creepy reference
dig, if you will, mirror image Sanchez grinds
lines
nollie hurricane? 

DOMPIERRE/TORRES

DC midtops intrigue me
jumping down stuff
bsnb Gino ledge
heavy
backside tailslide shoveit
ponce de leon 

HUF

b&w
metropolitan
life, fun, real
existential career
calf muscle biopsy
genetically-engineered super-solder's story 

CHIMA

news flash
this video part contains
the first time in the history of man
a gentleman wore "cool guy" sunglasses
and looked cool, no irony
opiated flow, synergy
freddy krueger sweater
summer heights high
who knew
jumping down stuff, interesting 

WALKER/ASSELIN

hokus pokus am montage
lenox ledges line
peace park
montreal
NHL playoffs--what channel? 

BROCK

dirty little redneck girls flock
state fair
heat & dirt, weed smoke
motorcycle clubs, hollowbody electric guitars
5/0 fakie the side of a double-wide trailer
thirty days in the hole, 5K for retainer
orange pants, like just broke outta jail
"hey you! good-lookin' female!"
#minimallyeffectivepickuplines

CAVEDONI

tre flip ts
f/s heel nose
sub-issue 20 411VM trick selection
we need a new "swag" to describe dudes like this
pizazz?
too fosse 

BROCKEL

flashback to questionable hip-to-rail
one question remains:
"robbie" age limit? 

WAIR

James Brown
is dead
mercer county
trenton rail, Sean Carter drug deal territory
Sanchez grind redux, the fuck happened to that dude
appropriate self cheer, robert plant "in the the mood"
Janoski, snapback, pom beanie
current
Palo Alto futurustic
Mark Zucker, make him an offer 

SCHAFF

meta
the old let-me-make-fun-of-myself-before-you-have-the-chance-to-make
-fun-of-me trick
truth be told, though
i joked with a bro outside before the premiere
about "vert button"
and how we now watch previously vert-buttoned parts
vert has become an awesome relic of the previous century
like a t-top firebird with said firebird painted on hood
mega-ramp button

RAMONDETTA

thrash--the bay area
LaVey
luciferous yoga instructor
middle school,
i purchased an exodus disc
longboxes--convenient wall decoration
hubba coffin nail, working-class devil
"guitar!" like bret michaels
dual leads ascend to valhalla
Thor? Looks cool, I guess
watch out for that door

BUSENITZ

can you survive
the blitzkrieg?
pull the pin, ride the fire
beethoven, michael schenker
black rock line, switch tre, gateway to the pantheon
diagonal was the Euro
evolutionary ethan fowler free-form jazz San Francisco
lipslide-back cover SLAP final physical issue