“Wait a minute,” you ask. “Why would I be in a room full of rappers?”
Maybe you are being punished for asking stupid questions all the time.
So you’re in this room full of rappers and you tell everyone to quiet down for a second, that you have an announcement. And then you say in your loudest Gilbert Gottfried voice, “I love the rapper 2Ugli. He’s the best!”
What comes next might be dead silence. Or maybe an angry buzz. Or perhaps someone might even punch you in the face. Yup. It’s that real.
2Ugli is a polarizing figure. He’s put out several albums (including the immaculately produced Poor Quality I, II, and III) on Johnny 23 records (a label from which he recently cut ties), recorded the razor-sharp “The Code,” featuring Raekwon, hooked up with the crew The Society of the Invisibles and since then, become synonymous with raw boom-bap music in the spirit of Jedi Mind Tricks and Necro. There’s no doubt that he’s a talented MC, and in his discography—that spans seven solid albums—you’d be hard-pressed to find a subpar piece of production. Not bad for some bummy, loudmouthed kid from San Diego.
So … what’s the problem?
No off switch
Well, to start, 2Ugli suffers from a rare medical condition: He was born without an off switch. In other words, the dude gets pretty wild with his mouth, and to people like me, it’s fucking hilarious. To others, however, it’s annoying and it hurts their feelings.
When asked if it’s actually his off-putting personality that people are reacting to, like, if he might have social anxiety or a neurodevelopmental disorder—autism, or something—2Ugli responds quickly: “No,” he says. “I have no filter.”
“So, technically, it is you,” I say.
“It is me, but it’s not me. My lady knows this, every girl that I’ve ever been with knows this: If they’re wearing a tight skirt and their fat stomach is hanging out and they say, ‘Hey, do I look fat?’ OK, do you want to know the truth?”
I think we all know that nobody wants to know the truth.
“Then don’t ask me,” he says. “If they’re asking me, they care what I think. So if people ask me, ‘What do you think of this song?’ Ehhh, it’s just not my sound. I’m not feeling it. They turn it into a whole different thing.”
So is all his past drama—the beefs with local rappers, the diss videos, the near fights in parking lots—just a mistake? Is 2Ugli just a misunderstood nice guy?
“I’m at the age where I’m not going to fight anybody anymore,” he says. “But if you push me far enough I’m going to punch you in the face.”
So, the answer is no.
Photo by Jason Sinn
The spirit of hip-hop?
One problem that 2Ugli highlights is Sacramento’s tendency to shun legitimate critique. In our small community, criticism is often mistaken for “hate,” which, in terms of art, can keep progress at bay. “For example, I’m in the studio with Josh [Eck, from The Study] and he goes, ‘Uh, not my sound, but it’s cool.’ I don’t get offended by it. Not everyone’s going to like my shit. I want someone to be honest with me.”
2Ugli explains that it’s almost as if hip-hop has lost some of its competitive edge. The art of battle, a principle upon which the original hip-hop was founded, seems to have taken a back seat to pay-to-play shows, crispy music videos and clean production.
“Nobody has a competitive spirit anymore,” he says.
But there’s a fine line between competition and beef, and it seems that 2Ugli skirts that line on many occasions. Take, for example, the song “Fuck TPR,” which was featured on one of my personal favorite 2Ugli albums, Poor Quality. The track begins with a pared down beat backed by melancholy string arrangement. 2Ugli raps, “The People’s Revolution is more like taking peoples’ revenue/What else is new? Another rapper spits without a clue.” And it continues in that manner, taking aim at Old Ghost, the group’s founder.
But that beef was a long time ago. It’s a different era now. Things have changed. Crews have disbanded, MCs have hung up their microphones and everyone’s old as shit now. Even his longtime rivalry with Sacramento MC Mahtie Bush has simmered down. And while he occasionally trades words with other rappers (most recently with Sacramento’s Abstract Ninjaa), 2Ugli isn’t really dwelling on old shit.
“That was 10 years ago,” he says, washing his hands of the past.
Now he’s excited to drop his latest album, Leaving My Mark from a Stained Past, which he says will be his final collection of music. “It’s finishing my story, talking a lot of shit, being a goofy lyricist,” he says. “People portray me as this wannabe hardass, a devil [worshipper]. They’re always like, ‘You’re funny. Why do you rap that way?’ I don’t know. I just write lyrics. This time I’m kind of portraying my personality and my image: a goofy, retarded fuck.”
The beginning is also the end
Here’s one of my favorite hip-hop origin stories:
There was once a little boy whose mom was arrested. When the cops took her away, the little boy was left homeless to wander the streets with nothing but a head full of anger, a pad of paper and a pen.
Every day, just to keep from going insane, the little boy would scribble out his thoughts on his pad of paper.
Eventually, those thoughts turned into poems. Soon enough, the torrential brutality of life had pounded the angry little boy into something of a street poet.
One day, in high school, the boy was standing there, listening to his friend freestyle rapping and he decided to join in. He began rapping some of the poems he’d written as a kid. His friend was impressed. In fact, he was so moved by his friend’s poems that he encouraged the boy to perform his poetry. He did. The boy rapped and he couldn’t stop, his poems taking the pain away, his raps giving him some sort of higher purpose that lifted him from his murky past into a glowing, uncertain future.
“And that’s how I was born,” says the little boy, now a man—Carlos Araujo—known to the world as the uncivilized, boorish and downright rude, 2Ugli.
2Ugli will perform live at America Hustle (913 K Street, Sacramento) with Cawzlos and Ill Root on April 9, 2016 at 7 p.m. This is a free show, so no excuses. For more on 2Ugli, go to Facebook.com/2ugli
Chase Moore Steps to the Mic for Cawzlos’s LMNH Records
For the true MC, proving oneself in a battle is paramount; not just to prove he is gifted, unlimited with rhymes universal, but as a chance to rep his crew and community. Only the choicest of battle rappers are able to put such weight on their shoulders. After an evening conversation with Chase Moore and his crewmate Cawzlos, it is apparent that someone is hungry for some weight.
Intimidating is not synonymous with Chase Moore’s physical presence. He stands comparative to the average California male, but it’s rash to discount his size in a battle. Mixing words, Chase Moore stands strong on his own, tossing punch lines like darts at his opponents. In March, Chase battled in Santa Cruz, practically eating a burnout local rapper named Dopey Delik alive with lines like, “So if you swear you got great diction/Beware of Chase spitting/You should be scared I’ll raid where you living/I know you got chips/Your parents paid your tuition.“ Stingers.
If you follow the battle circuit, the names will become hella familiar; but rarely is it possible to find music from the rappers, and even more difficult to find good music. For Chase, battling seems like an effortless exercise requiring minimal practice. Chase’s true grind comes from the pursuit of notoriety outside the spitkicker circuit. “[Battling] is really just to raise awareness for my album,” Chase said “I can definitely do both. Ninety-five percent of [battle rappers] make horrible music. You’ll hear rappers who are amazing in battles and you throw on the record and it’s”¦ [Chase shudders at the thought] I spend a lot more time in the studio than I do battling.”
Born into music, Chase’s father, Neil Moore, is an accomplished pianist who invented a playing-based piano teaching method called Simply Music. In 1994, Neil moved his family from Australia to the United States to start his business, which is now an international success. In speaking about his father, Chase used words like “visionary” and “entrepreneur,” appreciating his father’s hustle. “It didn’t happen over night,” he said. “Me, my brother and my sister shared the same room for years. It’s dope, though, that he had that much faith and belief.”
Growing up Down Under, he said exposure to hip-hop beyond commercial hits brought over from the United States was limited. Chase borrowed an old keyboard from his dad in eighth grade to make beats. He learned the drums in seventh grade and said every year he took the hobby to heart, eventually rhyming over his production. It’s no surprise a young Chase was influenced by Wu-Tang Clan’s debut, Enter the Wu-Tang: 36 Chambers. Chase said hearing “Bring Da Ruckus” in sixth grade blew his mind. Now, Chase blasts a hype verse in a gruff voice that’s tough like an elephant tusk. “By the time I really got into hip-hop I had lost my accent,” he said.
Chase spent his young adult life rapping in numerous groups, self-releasing albums to mixed reception. His group Capital Conspiracy earned a Sammie nomination. Chase attributes his youth and limited business knowledge to these ephemeral albums, some of which were never released. In 2007 Chase and Cawzlos moved to Los Angeles with the intentions of getting a record deal.
Young and hungry, the two linked up with Mike Conception, a former Crip who worked with Eazy-E, Dr. Dre and MC Hammer. Conception also allegedly struck a deal with Russell Simmons to call off a hit on rap group 3rd Bass, who dissed Hammer on record, in exchange for a seat next to Michael Jackson at the 1990 American Music Awards. Chase’s song “Lonely Road” briefly addresses his stint in Los Angeles, “I was thrown for a loop/Basically, I was too broke for some food.“ “Working with a heavy hitter in the streets was a crazy experience, but I wouldn’t change it for the world,” Chase said. “For me, as an artist and producer, I just had to move back, regroup and start over.”
Chase is scheduled to release his debut, Moore to Chase, in July on LMNH (Look Mama No Hands) records, a label run by PCM (Paper Chase Music) crewmate Cawzlos. Two years in the making, Moore to Chase seemed doomed from Chase’s lack of focus and his struggles with procrastination. “Because I’m a battle rapper, I relied on a lot of punchlines and wordplay,” he said. “A lot of the material I did lacked content—just smoking weed references and I’m-better-than-you, generic content.”
Now 23 years old, Chase rung in 2009 with a renewed clarity, quitting weed and booze cold turkey. As we sat down to talk at Aura on J St., we casually ordered drinks; myself a Dos Equis and Chase a diet cola. “I started smoking and drinking around 12,” he said. “It got to a point where I was blacking out every weekend, smoking zips of weed. I just felt like I was getting sidetracked.” Chase admitted the vices never go away—a time might come when he returns to them. “I just wanted to get my head clear,” he said. “It was hard at first, but it’s for the better. I made a pact to myself that I will be sober this whole year.”
“I was always loaded in the studio,” he said. Hearing his music sober, Chase spent January re-recording old songs and writing personal songs delving into his struggles with establishing an identity and turning his back on addiction. On “Lonely Road” Chase declares, “In order for my clique to get ample wealth/There’s a lot of business I got to handle myself/And I’m not demanding help.”
Chase and Cawzlos are fervid in establishing their crew and label into Sacramento streets. Fed up with a lack of community support, Cawzlos caused a couple eating dinner next to our table to leave as he shouted “fuck you”s to local radio stations and bars that won’t support local music without payola. “We act as if we hate politics, but at the end of the day our front yard is the Capital,” he said. “We politic like crazy. We clique up. We campaign hard.”
As Chase and I talked, Cawzlos paced the block, talking on his phone and with fellow musicians who happened to pass by. Cawzlos expressed frustration with his contemporaries. He said the conversation was essentially two people “all about their own shit.” Cawzlos recalled when, only a few years ago, Sacramento hip-hop was thriving with artists getting features in Vibe magazine. He said cold shoulders from radio stations caused artists to turn cold shoulders on each other. “If people continually shun you, you’ll recreate a new method to getting your shit out there. And when you figure out your niche, you’re not telling the next guy. Why would you tell the next guy, because it took you 14 years to figure out how to even get to this point?”
It’s not all distaste for Sacramento. Cawzlos is featured on Chase’s album on a cut called “City of Trees,” in which the duo shows love. “We don’t deny that we’re from here, or that we love it here,” Cawzlos said. On “City of Trees” Chase acknowledges a hurt that lingers here as he raps, “When Robert Horry hit the shot we couldn’t stand the Lakers/Could you believe it?/Ai-yo Maloofs we need a new arena.”
The crew recognizes the next few months as a gamble with Chase as the guinea pig. “If you want to swim, you gotta jump in the water,” Chase said. “We’re coming in a big-ass boat ready to dive in the water.” Cawzlos added, “Yeah, I want to be rap star, but as a CEO I have to decide who is the most fit to play that role on our label right now. Even for me to say that, it hurts as an artist, but I’m realistic. Chase is our flagship artist and Moore to Chase is going to be the stepping stone for everyone to follow.”
Moore to Chase will be released in July as a dual package that includes Right on Time, a collection of extra songs that did not make the debut cut. “You have to give a lot more before you can be ready to receive,” Cawzlos said. Catch Chase in Oakland on June 6 battling in the Grind Time Battle of the Bay IV.
Chase Moore was born in Melbourne, Australia into a very musically inclined family. His father played and taught piano while constantly recording and producing music right out of their home. Naturally then, Chase began making music at a young age but his move to Sacramento in September 1994 exposed him to a whole new lifestyle. He started writing rhymes, freestyling and producing beats and eventually gained some well-deserved recognition, especially after he won The Source‘s Unsigned Hype Battle in 2004 at ARCO Arena. As a performer, he has shared the stage with hip-hop heavyweights such as Nas, KRS-One, Mos Def, Living Legends and more. And as a producer he has worked with Keak Da Sneak and a slew of local artists. Moore’s momentum has surely not slowed; he has been a busy bee as of late. On Oct. 18 he had a “street album” drop entitled Paper Chase Music, and soon he will be gearing up for the release of his debut full-length album Moore to Chase, which will hit sometime in December. In addition to all that, local MCs and good friends Cawzlos and MahtieBush will team up with Moore this fall on The Bridge Tour, a self-booked venture that will take them from Vancouver to Las Vegas. Even though he has all that on his plate, Submerge was able to catch up with Moore recently to get in on some of his favorite (and least favorite) things in life.
Favorite MCs:
1) Eminem
2) Jay-Z
3) Chase Moore
Least favorite MCs:
1) Dose
2) Aesop Rock
3) Cawzlos
Favorite albums:
1) Thriller – Michael Jackson
2) 2001 – Dr. Dre
3) They’re All Gonna Laugh at You – Adam Sandler
Least favorite albums:
1) C True Hollywood Stories – Canibus
2) 8 Diagrams – Wu Tang Clan
3) NOW! That’s What I Call Music 17
Favorite concerts:
1) Rock the Bells where Mos Def performed “True Magic” produced by DJ Epik
2) Ashford & Simpson at GlideChurch in SF
3) Chase Moore in 2004 The Source Unsigned Hype battle at Arco Arena
Least favorite concerts:
1) Ugly Duckling where they dissed JD and Jay-Z
2) N.E.R.D.’s performance at Sleep Train
3) Downtown James Brown on 28th and K St.
Favorite movies:
1) The Dark Knight
2) The Godfather II
3) Terminator 2
Least favorite movies:
1) Batman & Robin
2) Napoleon Dynamite
3) Jaws-3D
Carlos Lopez wasn’t born a musician. The allure of MCing isn’t what led him to a lifelong devotion to hip-hop. However, over the last 10 years that has been the road he has followed, and while at points throughout he has questioned his position, music has remained a vital element of his livelihood. It’s a part of everything he does, and when you hear him, it shows.
His innate creativity and desire to express it led him to graffiti, where he first earned his stripes. After feeling limited by the confines of graffiti, and under the influence of various other stimulants, Carlos began to explore the art of language, more specifically his lyrical capabilities. It was from there that Cawzlos emerged. A fixture on the scene for a good chunk of his life, Cawzlos has found a way to mesh his musical side with another passion of his: business. With a plate full of projects and opportunities on the table, and the energy and ambition to carry the load, Cawzlos is making sure that he will be heard one way or another.
To start off can you give a brief history of yourself up to the present?
When I was 14 I went to a school called Hiram Johnson, which was a GATE program school, and I was the opposite of that. I met Adam McIntyre there”¦ They call him Ef Double, and he was doing the graffiti thing. From 14 to 18 I was just doing straight graff, like really in the streets and staying present with the graffiti. That was when I started getting high, too, and venturing out in the mind a little more, and everyone was talking about freestyling. I didn’t give a fuck about music or rapping or any of that until I was like 18. I didn’t realize what I was doing, but people would be like, “Man, you need to rap and pursue that.”
One thing led to another, and graffiti kind of got played out to me, and I felt like what I put on the wall just represented what I put on the wall, like it didn’t represent me. Graffiti is a secretive world, but I’m a real loud person and very vocal; I wanted to be seen and heard, and that’s all I wanted. Around that time we started the Cawz, which was me and Adam, this dude Byron, and Jeremiah, and it took about four years to finish our first album, which is called Tracks. We were doing a lot of shows, and a lot of promotion type campaigns, and that is when graffiti and music really clicked for me, like, “OK, I can use my graffiti mentality of just getting out there and representing and mixing that with marketing and promotion.” was never like, “Carlos is a great rapper,” or, “Carlos is a great performer,” was like, “Carlos is a great promotion guy.” Adam was a great rapper, Byron was a great rapper, Jeremiah was a great producer, I just instilled the hustle into the circle. That was like ’97 or ’98.
When did you recognize that you had the potential to do something
with the rapping?
We all moved to LA and got management out there, and even then I was still real insecure. I knew I could do it, but I would play the background. It wasn’t until we moved back to Sacramento that I really started stepping my game up. When the Cawz broke up though, that’s when I was like, “OK, I’m not gonna stop this now, I’m too deep. I’m feeling this too much, I gotta get better,” and that’s when everything started happening. That was like four years ago. I started buying gear, and recording tons of songs. I was naturally a poet, but rhythmically I wasn’t there. It wasn’t until a year ago that I got signed by a guy named Michael Concepcion in LA, and that was when everything started to get serious. I had to be elite, because I was around elite people. I ended up getting shelved, and that made me realize I was closer than I’d ever been, but I still wasn’t the guy. But in that year, I studied real hard, and got better, and now my bar game is vicious. I always knew I was meant for this, but I just didn’t know my position. I thought I was just the CEO, or the marketing director, but now because of my studies, I feel like I can do all of that and be that dude on stage.
It’s crazy because when I listen your music, you speak with so much passion, it just sounds like it does something for you much deeper than just spitting out words.
I’m a real spiritual and deep person, and I’m trying to bring a message to what I’m doing. If I didn’t find music, I would be strung out on drugs, hands down. It was never about the money. I come from the graff scene where it’s all about recognition and never about the money, and I still carry that in my music today. I’m 27 years old and people come up to me like, “You gotta get your money,” but I always say it will come. If the money comes, it comes. I know what I need to do, but I don’t do it for that. I don’t know why I think that way, I just do. I’m not in the record sales business. Cawzlos is not here to sell records; if I sell a record, that’s cool. I want to go platinum selling T-shirts or whatever.
To wrap things up can you talk about what you’re up to at the moment?
Right now I’m working on some new stuff with Jeremiah to take on the road. I’m doing some tour managing for these guys MC Rut, Middle Class Rut, and they produced two of the songs on there. MC Rut is like number three on KWOD right now, which is real good for independent group going heads up with mainstream acts. Warner Brothers is putting us up in LA; they’re playing El Rey. I’m also managing my cousin, M I Gezzus, who is real dope. I also started a record label with Ahman aka Wisdom, Josh aka 26Hrz and Mathie Bush called Trendsetters, and our saying is, “Being yourself is in.”
Is there a time when you think you will put the music aside and strictly be doing the business side of things?
Yeah I could see that. Right now being an artist comes first.
