The name suggests apathy, but as artists Who Cares put their lives on the line to be one of best hip-hop groups in Sacramento. Originally formed by Ernie Upton, aka Ernie Fresh, and Maxwell McMaster on production, Who Cares is the perpetual opener of rap shows. The self-anointed second-place finishers. And after the group’s Concert in the Park performance June 17, 2016, the band formerly known as Who Cares. Founding member Upton calls it their “big coup de grâce.”

“If we’re really trying to save each other’s lives with the music and it’s more a negative chore then I didn’t want to keep pushing that on anybody,” Upton says of the break-up. “Slowly it just broke apart.”

The news came up unexpectedly during an interview with Upton and current member Andrew “Young Aundee” Southard. The plan was to discuss the Juvenile Hall EP, a record sent to me weeks prior. But the information trickled out. The EP has been shelved, no longer the farewell album as planned. We drive for nearly two hours, discussing as much as we can. It feels vital to start at the beginning.

Origin, aka “Radical Reformation”

Upton traces Who Cares’ formation to 2002. He was on the mic with Max McMasters behind the boards. A year later they cut a record, a CD-R release they handmade with cut/paste album art to peddle at shows. The Who Cares sound reflects the era of backpack rap, bound to the history and four elements (MCing, DJing, breaking and graffiti) while finding a new footing in the suburbs through artists like Atmosphere and Company Flow.

Upton is a graffiti artist and wired to think visually. As Who Cares becomes a bigger part of his life he envisions a character that could be the group’s calling card. An image that embodies the nostalgia, teenage heartbreak and latchkey kid mentality that courses through the music. He saw a teddy bear with its mouth sewn shut.

“I was trying to knock off some old Teddy Ruxpin, cute character gone bad,” he says. “The first one I did, it didn’t look sad. It looked all cracked out. I put Who Cares on it and turned it in. People liked it.”

Upton commits to the bear during a graffiti mission with friends at an abandoned winery in Napa. He stops writing his graffiti name and draws the bear instead, this time making it cuter.

So the group slaps the bear on album covers, T-shirts, posters and stickers. Upton fondly recalls falsifying orders to Kinkos in order to make 5000 stickers for around $3. DIY isn’t always the most ethical path.

“People know the propaganda even if they don’t know the music,” Andrew Southard says.

Southard becomes a Who Cares fan in 2005 at the Heritage Festival at Raley Field, drawn to the group’s live performances and aesthetic. He remembers the exact moment.

“Ernie knew me and would always say my name on the mic,” Southard says. “It made me feel hella good.”

Southard joins Who Cares during an evolution in the group. At that time, it consists of Upton and McMaster with Ryan Hall on keys and Jammal Tarkington on saxophone. Southard adds an R&B vocalism and melodica, slowly becoming a more prominent member.

In 2006, Who Cares releases The Winter Came Back EP. The six-song cycle demonstrates the group’s growth, as tracks like “The Rain Song” and “Heaven Ain’t That Hard” weep with gut-wrenching saxophone solos and groove with live bass. It’s the sound of dexterity beyond their years, which Upton credits to Tarkington’s input.

“I’d probably still be on some nerdy backpack shit if I hadn’t become friends with him,” he says.

By 2010’s Teenage Ego Trip, the official debut, Who Cares evolves to a core three: Tarkington, Southard and Upton, while Dusty Brown is the silent partner and executive producer. In my review for Submerge that year, I call it a breakthrough that resolves the group’s identity crisis of electro versus emo rap.

The album is a long-time coming, but by its arrival, fans are aging out of Who Cares.

Southard says, “that DIY ethic was dying out.”

Best Show, aka “Let’s Fly”

Southard considers his first show Aug. 4, 2006, a night the group unanimously remembers as their best show ever.

“It was a full on Beat Street slamdown,” Southard says. “It was at the Mezzanine in San Francisco. It was Who Cares, Egyptian Lover, and Nucleus.”

Who Cares has always had a strong relationship with Sacramento artist Neal Bergmann, aka Lopan 4000. Southard and Upton describe Lopan as a true hip-hop head, perpetually stuck in ‘88. His connections lead to Who Cares opening for hip-hop and electro legends Egyptian Lover and Nucleus.

“Lopan made one of those life-size posters parodying the Beat Street poster with all our names in it,” Southard recalls. “I was at the free Chromeo show [at Mezzanine] a week prior to our show and saw it there. I felt super proud like that’s going to be my first fucking show.”

Upton says that night was the first time he felt like they were doing something, rather than just trying. After brief concern over possible hyperventilation, he falls into the moment on stage.

“I looked up and Cosmo D [of Nucleus] and his wife were sitting in the balcony,” he says. “They gave us a toast. That was before we were friends, but I still idolized him and Chilly B [also of Nucleus].”

The Fall, aka “Sad & Gray”

Who Cares is playing TBD Fest 2014, but the night before, Upton is in Reno for a DJ set. He speaks with Tarkington, who lives there now. Tarkington has to put oil in his Vespa, then he plans to meet Upton at the venue to hang out.

Except he never does.

“I was like damn this oil change is taking three hours,” Upton says. “Then the owner was like, ‘Did you hear about Jammal?’”

Tarkington is T-boned on his Vespa by a drunk driver in a pick-up truck who runs a red light.

Southard says, “We thought he was going to end up way worse off than he ended up being.”

Upton adds, “He’s not the same saxophone player. It took a toll on his music.”

It takes a toll on the group, too. Uncertain if Tarkington will ever play again, things are put on hiatus. It’s tragedy in a bouquet of dead flowers for Who Cares.

Upton and Southard have been uncertain of the state of Who Cares for years. The two continue making music under the moniker, complete an EP titled Juvenile Hall with guest appearances from Murs and Cosmo D, but things still fall apart.

“I used to walk through everyday with music blowing through my brain like I was in a cartoon musical,” Upton says. “Now, the sound in my head is me complaining shit as I walk.”

Eventually Dusty Brown makes the executive decision. Sensing the apathy, he asks if Upton and Southard want to push other things. Asks if they wanted to drop the pretense and be free. But they can’t let go.

Upton turns down opportunities due to obligations to Who Cares. Requests for guest appearances and solo work are ignored in favor of pushing the group. Who Cares is the family. You can’t break up with your family.

Southard tells a story of meeting a hippy couple after a show at the Knitting Factory, who encourage them. “They said, you guys can’t quit until the miracle happens, whatever that means for you.”

Redefinition, aka “Heaven Ain’t That Hard”

On April 7, 2016 DJ Shadow announces his new album, The Mountain Will Fall, on Pitchfork. The article features an interview with Josh Davis, aka DJ Shadow. Near the bottom in the tracklisting is a familiar name: Ernie Fresh.

The collaboration with DJ Shadow comes together through a session with Egyptian Lover in Los Angeles. Upton and Southard bring friend and collaborator Mophono to the session. The four artists record a few songs, one of which is played in a Boiler Room set by Mophono. By chance DJ Shadow hears it and inquires about the rapper with the old school flow. He’s got a track perfect for Ernie.

Suddenly Upton is called to Mophono’s studio to work with Shadow. “To me, Josh Davis was in another galaxy,” Upton says. “My whole life was about emulating him. I was perfectly happy with being the best wannabe. I always thought his music was so good that rap would make it worse.”

Thinking of the hippy couple, Southard says, “I guess the DJ Shadow thing is [the miracle], but it’s not the form I expected.”

Being on a DJ Shadow record changes your perspective. Upton says he has difficulty disagreeing with Dusty Brown. He’s gone from the guy in the group going nowhere and stuck opening for his idols to having friends named Mophono, Egyptian Lover, Cosmo D and DJ Shadow.

“It’s reinforced the dream I’ve always wanted as a kid growing up,” he says. “It just fell in my lap, and now I have to let go of the past. It’s hard for a guy who made his whole rap career out of dwelling on the past.”

Eulogy, aka “Show Me Some Change”

Perhaps the ending was written in 2010 and the group couldn’t see it. Listening to Young Aundee’s haunting refrain of “I’m not trying to let anyone down” on “Show Me Some Change” foreshadows the Who Cares of 2016. On it, Upton is brooding, disillusioned and willing to step away in order to keep matters civil: You give it all to keep the ones that you love close / especially when the ones you love turn into a ghost.

The official end of Who Cares is a way to let those ghosts rest. Upton and Southard have a close bond that’s feeding into new music. New music like “Radical Reformation” featuring Cosmo D that channels the same punk and electro spirit of Afrika Bambaata’s Time Zone project. They credit their mutual love of anime as influential on the new direction. Upton’s pursuing more solo work and Southard says he’s down to be his “Nate Dogg.”

“It’s about looking in the mirror and asking, ‘Were you doing this in the hopes of being a somebody?’” Upton says. “Or is this just you? Then, you realize you’d do this every day no matter who’s fucking watching.”

He pauses, then adds, “I hope it stays that way forever now. That would be the reward.”

Who Cares will play its final show (at least for now) at Concerts in the Park on June 17, 2016. Also performing will be Vokab Kompany, The Good Samaritans, The Scratch Outs and CrookOne. Presented by Bud Light, Concerts in the Park take place every Friday night from 5 to 9 p.m. (through Aug. 5, no concert on July 1) at Cesar Chavez Park in downtown Sacramento. For a more info and a full lineup of upcoming concerts, go to Godowntownsac.com.

Sacramento hip-hop artist Ty’Quan Thomas fits the mold of a rap superstar. Born in 1988 in South Sacramento, Ty’Quan was raised by his mom and grandmother, and like many great rappers before him, his youth was riddled with violence, drugs, even murder. But Thomas continues to rise above the street drama and has tapped into a natural talent pool, becoming a lyrical powerhouse along the way. On his latest EP, titled De’ (featuring production from San Francisco’s Juante), Thomas is more confident than ever, his deep voice and commanding delivery pulling you in, demanding your attention. “I named the EP De’ because it was the nickname of my late cousin who was unfortunately murdered March 11, 2005,” Thomas recently told Submerge in an email. “So it’s just me paying homage to him because he’s the inspiration behind me doing music.” Thomas is celebrating the release of the EP at a show on Feb. 8, 2015, at Blue Lamp, opening for Skipper of HBK Gang. If you can’t make that show, Thomas will also be performing at Blue Lamp again on March 7 as part of The B.Y.E Takeover. He’s also got a full-length album in the works called ThugStyle that he says is going to be “real funky, very West Coast, with real life stories and tales of my life.” Stay up to date with Thomas on Twitter (@TheRealTyQuan)

Mean Doe Green (aka Doey Rock) has tasted success, but it hasn’t sated his appetite

It’s a quiet Saturday night in New Era Park. Smack in the middle of this seemingly lifeless block between D and E streets is the firehouse, a distinct two-story brick building with ghostly white faces engraved above the front entry. This is the home of SoundCap Audio, the tracking and mixing studio that has produced albums by some of Sacramento’s top hip-hop artists. I’m here to meet with Sacramento’s veteran MC Mean Doe Green. You may also know him as Doey Rock.

Born Kahallie Oden, Jon Doe was the first moniker Green chose for himself when he started rapping. That soon evolved into Doey Rock. Incidentally he dropped “Mean Doe Green” in a rhyme, and as someone who adopts different personas in his music, he has embraced Mean Doe Green as an alter ego ever since.

“It was a way to reintroduce myself to people,” he later explains. “But I’m never afraid of Doey Rock, because he did a lot for me, too, alter ego-wise.”

Back at SoundCap Audio, engineer Pete Rodriguez answers the door and leads the way past the sound booth to the mixing room. The place is dimly lit and quiet. We shoot the breeze while we wait for Green to arrive. The young kids, some of them as young as 17, are the ones really tearing it up in the local hip-hop scene, he tells me.

Minutes later Green strolls in and makes his way to the black leather couch across from Rodriguez. His voice booms, loud and lucid, but he’s all jokes and smiles. This place is a safe haven for his music, he says, where he feels comfortable enough being himself while recording.

He and Rodriguez have been a team since Green began recording at Sound Cap more than two years ago. Green’s 2010 release Mind Candy Re-wrapped, as well as mixtapes Black Suits and Shovels and Hard Hats and Hand Grenades, both released last July, were recorded here. Now the two are working on the final touches of Shade Proof, Green’s upcoming LP, which is scheduled for release on Feb. 21.

It has been a three- to four-month project that has resulted in a very aggressive, “in-your-face” approach, Green later discloses, which he says will likely make listeners either love or hate him. Teaser tracks “Be Great” and “Thankful” are already posted online, both of which have attracted attention in the hip-hop blogosphere.

Though it features the likes of R&B artists Hello World, Raekwon, Tommy Nova and Arty Fresha, Shade Proof is meant to highlight his capabilities as an MC, front and center, Green says.

“I felt like I should put more of myself [into it], because I think a lot of albums that come out just have too many features,” he explains. “Hip-hop albums these days are just about who you have on the album, as opposed to the artist that’s presenting the album.”

Green only exposed Submerge to four select tracks from Shade Proof.

“I’m picky as fuck about my music being played for people,” he says.

But in those tracks alone, which include “Be Great,” Green opens up over grimy beats. And there’s a lot to open up about. He had a neglectful father. He grew up in the hood and has seen his share of “wild shit.” He watched family members fall victim to drug abuse. He watched someone get killed in his driveway.

At the end of the day he’s a street dude, he says. But that’s how he met Raekwon of Wu Tang Clan at age 17, before anyone knew who Wu Tang Clan was. That’s how he got introduced to the game of hip-hop, and he’s been at it ever since.

“I’ve been feeding kids off hip-hop, and I’m proud of that,” he reminds.

Mid-conversation, Green asks Rodriguez to bust out the weed. Rodriguez pulls out a massive nug the length of a pen, and the two get to business rolling a joint.

“Welcome to the city of trees, God dammit,” Green says.

Soon enough they’re getting ripped, and Green is answering my questions with more and more ease. Next thing I know he’s getting stuff off his chest, stuff about the commercialization of hip-hop and about the passion that fuels his songs. The following gives a taste of the conversation.

When do you think [Shade Proof] will be done?
It’ll be out on the 21st, because that’s the date we set, and I don’t have a choice. And when it’s out I’ll be happy with it, because I work well in pressured situations for some odd reason. But I’ve been MCing for so long at this point finding comfort zones is different now, because quite frankly I’m not in the same hunger state that I was in four years ago.

What do you mean?
Yo, MCing is about hunger. This shit was created because people didn’t have shit to do when they was starving and they wanted to put their talents on display. That’s what MCing is about, “I have something to say, hear my voice.” The greatest artists were hungry artists, if you think about whether it’s Tupac and Big, or go back further, Run DMC or Raekwon or Afrika Bambaataa, or whoever. They was starving, not only for attention, but: “Yo, I have a talent to put on display, I have a message. This is my style.” Hip-hop is about your style and your energy as a person. So me doing this for so long, and doing it successfully, you have to find hunger, you have to have a reason. Driven… I have pockets of, “Well I don’t even like rhymes,” because I don’t have shit to say. I done fuckin’ made it to the suburbs. That nigga from Elder Creek? Where I’m living at? Damn! I’m so realistic with my music, I don’t have anything to cry about or complain about, so it’s hard for me to find pockets of hunger. But let an MC think he’s better than me. Those are my driving forces now. It’s different driving forces as a real MC, because I’m not going to write no fabricated shit. I’m not going to rap about binges and mansions and luxuries, this, that and the other. Now I’ve got to find pockets of, “Oh, I feel hungry,” or “Oh, I heard a Chuuwee song, damn that little mothafucka tight! I gotta do that.” But it’s healthy competition, not like I’m hating on him, but that inspires me now.

What were you thinking about when you wrote [“Merlot Murder”]? I felt like there was some anger in that song.
Anger toward hip-hop, right?

Mhmm.
You know what? As much as I felt like I gave to hip-hop, and I tried to stay true to it, I felt like it kind of stabbed me in the back in ways. I feel like it didn’t afford me opportunities that it should have. I don’t know if it was being from Sacramento, I don’t know what it was, but I feel like honestly, as true as I stay to this sport, look at what hip-hop is right now. You got a lot of pop bullshit out, you know, it’s just so watered down.

What’s the ultimate example of watered-down hip hop to you?
When you want a better life for your family and where you come from, I don’t blame people for doing what they do to make money. I guess I’m just so personal with hip-hop that I hate that it comes at the expense of hip-hop. So, watered down to me would be–and it’s a thin line when I say this and it’s a slippery slope–anything that goes commercial to the point that you know what you’re broadcasting is not from the heart. The problem with saying names is you don’t know what their family situation was, and I always am careful about that… See it’s a lot of driving forces as to why we do what we do in this game. The problem is, look what hip-hop has become because of the money and because of the bling-bling era. I guess I would lay the blame there, the bling-bling era of hip-hop fucked it all up. Anytime you give people with nothing a vision of people that didn’t have nothing and now they got something, anytime you broadcast that too much, it becomes, now the people with nothing are rapping about shit they don’t have because they want to look like that. And it just misconstrued every damn thing.

Why do you think you weren’t [rapping about personal stuff] before?
I just wasn’t. I was just on the MC shit, let’s focus on the art and this and that. We’re not going to talk about the street. I didn’t want my gimmick to be street shit or gangsta shit, I don’t claim to be a gangsta in the first place… I’m not doing it for any specific reason. I guess at this point I just feel like I should get it off my chest.

Doey Rock will celebrate the release of Shade Proof (out March 13) on March 16, 2012 at Harlow’s. You can listen and download the the album at Audiomack.com/artist/doey-rock. The show starts at 10 p.m. and will cost $10. To order tickets in advance, go to Harlows.com.

Task1ne, State Worker by Day, Rapper by Night, Unites Sacramento Hip-Hop Scene with His New Album

Superheroes assume secret identities that symbolize the life of the common man to protect themselves and the lives of those around them. The secret identity keeps the gifted rooted in reality. Following superhero archetypes, Task1ne is a rapper who protects his passion for music by doing accounting work for the state under the name Corey Lake Pruitt.

Pruitt takes the light rail to work and sits in the back. At the state office, he processes documents while quietly rapping to himself, which draws ire from his hard-nosed boss. He’s well known at the comic stores and strictly wears comic book T-shirts. At home, he has two cats that are disinterested in him unless it’s feeding time. He enjoys comics (a lot) and reviewing films. “I’ve seen Captain America 12 times,” he said. “It’s as good as a Captain America movie could have been. Is it the best comic book movie? Hell no. But, they captured Captain America, unlike Green Lantern, which was the worst piece of shit I’ve ever seen in my life.”

But, when the clubs open and the mics are plugged in, he transforms into Task1ne, a loud-mouthed, nerdcore rapper that speaks street Wookie and reps a crew called Skynet. He’s also poised to join the elite local ranks. “I’m extremely slept on,” he said. “I feel like I’m the underdog of Sacramento because I started out when everyone was already established.”

Like most superheroes, he had to polish his special powers in order to shed his colt legs. Remember Spider-Man’s first attempts with his webbing? Bad things happen to heroes not quite accustomed to their powers. Bad things like getting humiliated in a rap battle against Mahtie Bush. “I completely lost my lyrics,” Task1ne said. “It was three years ago, but to this day people call me ‘the guy that lost to Mahtie.’ It’s like what do I have to do to get people off of that?”

Determined to never lose a rhyme again, Task1ne took to mastering the art of freestyling. He freestyled at work. He kept instrumental CDs in his car to rhyme over. If a mic was offered at an onstage cipher, he seized it, until his skills off-the-dome became notorious.

Villain ft. Yae (prod. by Nicatyne) by task1ne

“I stepped my freestyle game up,” he said. “I’m a geek, so my brain is going different places. I try to rhyme crazy things, like one time I rhymed about Pirates of Dark Water, the old cartoon. Or I said, ‘I swing from tree tops like I’m an Ewok.’ It’s in my brain. That’s what I do.”

But freestyles and a mixtape compiling a year’s worth of guest verses titled Task1ne Verses the World were not enough to earn him the Sammie nomination he sought, or a shot at a Submerge cover for that matter. Task1ne had to prove he could join the ranks of Random Abiladeze, C-Plus and Lostribe by dropping an album in 2011. “I did a lot of work last year,” he said. “I went from being in a group to being solo. I changed my style up a little bit and people started really liking it. So I started getting thrown on other people’s songs [including DLRN’s “Trill Cosby” with C-Plus]. Didn’t get nominated. That kind of hit me.”

Task1ne began working on District 916 a year and a half ago at Sound Cap Audio. He took a neutral stance for his solo record in order to work with whoever would send a beat his way. The only criteria was the producers had to be from Sacramento, which earned Task1ne beats from Lee Bannon, Adam Bomb, Nicatyne, Rufio and Jon Reyes, among others. “The whole album I wanted it to represent Sacramento,” he said. “One of my favorite movies is District 9. I feel like we as hip-hop here in Sac are kind of like that. In the movie the aliens are trapped there, and they feel like they have no way out. I kind of feel that way. But at the end one of them finally escapes out. I’m trying to be the one that escapes out.”

Task1ne has unbridled pride for the local scene, which filters into his philosophy on collaboration. He’s dieting, but his natural presence offers a well-sized frame to put the city on his shoulders. District 916 is a melting pot of crews that included working with Nicatyne and Yae of Fly High in Natomas. “Nobody really messes with them,” he said. “They do their own thing. There are a couple of groups they work with, but for the most part no one really does stuff with them. I wanted to. Got a beat from Nicatyne, which became the track ‘Villian’ featuring Yae–another Fly High member. Yae hit me up about doing a song about us being super villains. I said, ‘Here’s the beat. Start!’ That’s probably my favorite song on the album.”

The album is a balance of nerdcore references prepped for the battle circuit and everyman storytelling. The track “Bounce” breaks down the true story of Task1ne’s first groupie experience, in which he reacts like any normal dude with a state job and raps on the side might–mistake fleeting groupie love for the real thing. “I jumped to all these conclusions, thinking about a relationship, but she’s trying to leave. And I was just left like ‘Where are you going?’ So I tell my boys about it and they were like yeah, those are groupies.”

His daily routine of riding light rail inspired him to write “Back of the Bus,” a song pondering why young black men still sit in the back of the bus despite the privileges Rosa Parks made possible. “We’re a new generation. We can’t really relate to that. There’s no real answer to why I sit in the back. It’s just an automatic thing that I do.”

On “Introducing the Greatest,” Task1ne ponders what it takes to get a Sammie. And while the answer is power-bombing social networks with self-promotion, he needn’t wonder any longer–his name was included in the Best Emcee list of 2011. “I got it this year, thank God,” he said.

Implementing a no-days-off policy, he is planning his next project to be a free EP produced entirely by Adam Bomb, who produced three tracks on District 916. Task1ne maintains his secret identity beyond the common traits of superheroes. He holds his state job as a reminder to not give up his quest to be one of Sacramento’s greatest rappers. “I’m glad I work there because I see what I don’t want.”

In District 9 the alien that escapes takes the spaceship with the intentions of returning to those left behind and bettering their situation. Task1ne intends to do the same with a fall tour along the West Coast. In October he’ll play shows in Portland, Seattle, San Diego and Los Angeles. “I’m actually scared; I’m not going to lie,” he said. “Most rappers act cool about it, but naw, I’ve never done this before. I’ve never been to Seattle or Portland. A lot of people feel like it’s hard to find a way out, even though there are ways out. A lot of people feel trapped here and can’t branch out.

“I want to go up there and establish the Sacramento name, so the next time I come I can bring people with me. Like in the movie, the guy left and he’s going to come back to get his people.”

The District 916 CD release party will take place at The Blue Lamp in Sacramento on Sept. 15. Performing will be Digital Martyrs, JRas of SouLifted, Dregs1, Sleeprockers and of course Task1ne. For up to the minute info, follow Task1ne on Twitter @TASK1ne.

Sacramento hip-hop trio Aquifer has a new album online for free called Don’t Die Waiting, and I strongly suggest you go download it at Aquifermusic.com. Members Nick Bianco, Tommy Fox and Brannum Goldsmith have truly honed their craft, releasing their most polished material to date. Don’t Die Waiting is a well-focused, honest and illustrative view of the times we live in with glimmers of hopefulness and optimism sprinkled in for good measure. Aquifer will celebrate the release of the album on Friday, May 20, 2011 at Sol Collective. Also performing will be Greyspace, Medl4, Defeye, Adder and the night’s host, Task1ne. The show is all ages, doors open at 8 p.m. and there’s a $5 cover charge.

Words by Adam Saake

On the first try to get Nate Curry, aka N8 the Gr8, of Sacramento’s legendary local hip-hop group the CUF on the phone for an interview with Submerge, he was tied up with some music business.

“I’m at Western Union wiring Gift of Gab some money right now for a verse. Can you call me back in five minutes?”

Curry is a busy man. Besides being one of five members of the CUF, he’s also a producer for up-and-coming R&B singer Marryann Hunter, hip-hop group Lost Tribe and his cousin, rapper MAK. His head has been immersed in those projects, and it wasn’t until recently that his focus turned once again to making music with the CUF.

“Truthfully, in the last year, we were kind of losing our motivation a little bit. I ventured off into some other stuff,” says Curry.

There’s no behind-the-music story, no band beef or silly drama. It’s just that the group has seen so many opportunities over the years come and go that delusions of grandeur were hardly taking shape.

“We’ve had so many different labels and so many different things that we’ve dealt with and it’s always just turned into shit. So none of us really expected anything,” explains Curry.

But the journey’s been a good one.

In 1993, a hugely important year in hip-hop that saw the release of such albums as Souls of Mischief’s 93 Til Infinity, Wu Tang’s 36 Chambers, Snoop Dogg’s Doggystyle, KRS-One’s Return of the Boom Bap and so many more (seriously, Google it), the young MCs known as the CUF were beginning what would become an 18-year-long musical career. Sacramento, sadly, was a lot like it is now in respects to clubs and music venues having little interest or tolerance for hip-hop or rap music. As Curry explains, there’s been no shortage of a few knuckleheads ruining it for us all with “plenty of people getting shot and killed at clubby club shows.” This was working against them, but a greater force was and has been ever-present; a strong Sacramento music community. Can’t book a hip-hop show? Well then play with a rock or a ska band.

“We got in with Filibuster, Steady-Ups, Diseptikons, Storytellers and those guys…and we’d get into venues that they’d have never let us play at,” recalls Curry.

These mix-and-match shows were part of one of the most active times in Sacramento’s local music scene. Venues like Old Ironsides, The Distillery, The Press Club and the original Capitol Garage all played host to the CUF, but now rarely if at all welcome hip-hop shows. Listeners who may have never stepped foot in a hip-hop club were now exposed to the sounds of the CUF playing alongside some of their other favorite groups. Well aware of this fact, Curry and fellow MCs Crush, Brotha RJ and Pete (Lil N8, aka Taktics, would come later) sharpened and fine-tuned their lyrics and beats to make sure their sound was clean and their voices be heard.

“We perfected our stage show because we knew that no one knew our music,” says Curry. “We made it to where we’d speak clear on the mic and the beats weren’t super cluttery and jumbled.”

Crowds were quickly won over; seeing the CUF on a bill without a single other hip-hop act was pretty commonplace. Plus, it didn’t hurt that the group had an anthem track appropriately titled “Sacramento” that listeners quickly memorized the lyrics to and would frequently request at live shows.

It wasn’t always difficult for hip-hop in the River City. There were all-ages venues throughout the years, most of which are no longer around, that were instrumental in keeping the scene alive and well. The Washington Neighborhood Center on 16th Street hosted frequent hip-hop shows, as did the now defunct and legendary venue Joe’s Style Shop. The upstairs art space and basement music venue on J Street was regularly throwing some of the most amazing shows that continued the theme of mixing and matching the artist community. Dub DJs like Wokstar opening for Filibuster with the CUF rounding out the bill was commonplace, and Sacramento was there in full effect, supporting the diversity and loving it. Later, Scratch 8 in Old Sacramento played host to such acts as Zion I, Crown City Rockers, The Grouch and many others. Again, the CUF was there laying down their signature sound and remaining an integral presence in the waxing and waning hip-hop scene of the late ‘90s and early ‘00s.

As other bands have throughout the years, the CUF also found homes for its hip-hop sound in other cities in the Bay Area and Southern California. A monthly club being thrown in Oakland called Unsigned Hype was a showcase for independent hip-hop talent making waves, as well as up-and-coming acts like the CUF. Bills would often include artists like Saafir of Hobo Junction or Souls of Mischief of Hieroglyphics. A fateful evening at the club paired the CUF and an unknown Mystik Journeymen from another large hip-hop group called the Living Legends as openers for A-Plus. The club that night was treated to impressive sets from both opening acts that left the crowd speechless–literally.

“It was weird because we put on an awesome show and everyone just stared and looked at us. I don’t think they were ready,” remembers Curry. “RJ and Sunspot [Jonz] chopped it up, we linked up and ended up going over to their loft and the rest was history.”

That history would include multiple tours with the Living Legends up and down the West Coast as well as guest appearances on each other’s albums. But even with the taste of scenes in other cities that had thriving hip-hop communities, the CUF could never leave Sacramento behind. It’s always been their identity.

“Sacramento is our home;” says Curry proudly. “That’s the reason our music sounds the way it does; it’s the reason that we are who we are.”

For residents of the 916 who aren’t familiar with the CUF, who over the past few years have kept a low profile, their chance to discover a hip-hop gem hasn’t passed. With a new album just released on April 26, 2011 titled CUF Caviar Vol. 1, the CUF is, to put it frankly, back and better than ever. A truly funky record with intelligent production from Curry, who has been responsible for 90 percent of the beats on CUF records, CUF Caviar is just plain fun to listen to. The album took two years to complete and the production value certainly shows patience. Songs like “Don’t Ask No ?’s” plays heavily with a punchy funk drum sample, a Ceelo-esque hook and auto tune vocals… It works, and frankly I wish the crap on the radio that employed similar techniques sounded half as good. CUF Caviar is a more refined, more polished version of what the group has been all along. It’s rare nowadays to find musicians who define a sound for themselves and are able to gracefully age and mature it without compromising the original ideas. The CUF has done just that.

“A lot of the stuff we did before was just us vibing out. We’d write a 16, the beat’s dope, let’s jump on it and find a hook and make it fat,” Curry explains. “[Now] it’s on a totally bigger scale.”

The title of the album, CUF Caviar, is the perfect reflection of this new “scale.” Curry says that when naming the album, the CUF wanted to stick with the fish theme that has always been their logo as well as the incorporation of the band name in the title. Past records have included CUF Daddy, CUF Baby and CUFilation as well as the earlier tapes Federal Expressions and Cuffish that are collectors’ items among diehard fans.

“We basically were thinking that caviar are fish eggs. They’re fish babies, but they’re more refined. It’s something that you’d want if you had an ear that’s more refined. It’s not no little kiddie hip-hop. It’s something for grown folks; sophisticated ears,” jokes Curry.

One of the more humorous things about the maturation of the CUF is the actual acronym itself. Commonly referred to as California Underground Funk or Californians Under Frustration, the guys have become family men now and a new meaning has come to pass: Cousins Uncles and Fathers.

The rejuvenated CUF will be taking CUF Caviar on the road, playing spot shows with Z-Man, Equipto and Mike Marshal. May 12 at Harlow’s will be the CD release show and Curry says that there may even be a Blackalicious and CUF tour on the horizon as well. If you’re not a CUF fan or if you’ve always been, make sure you cop the new album and hear what the fellas have been up to.

Local Rapper C Plus releases his first full-length solo album

Chaz Wheeler, better known as C Plus in the hip-hop community, remembers his first experience making a mixtape. It was recorded over an old-school computer mic with a program called Record Producer, a $50 purchase at Office Max. He was right out of high school.

It might have looked strange discussing the hip-hop biz with a renowned local rapper over tea in a coffee house on a Saturday night. Nonetheless, here’s an excerpt from our conversation.

The album is All C.I.T.Y., right?
Yes, C.I.T.Y. is an acronym. It stands for creative, intelligent, troubled youth.

Why did you choose that?
“All city” is kind of something that always stuck with me. Since I was a kid I used to be really into skateboarding. I still am, to this day, I still skate. Kareem Campbell was one of the most popular black skaters when I was coming up. He came up with All City [Campbell’s skateboarding team was called All City Skateboards]. So that term, that phrase always stayed with me, and then I got older and I found out what it meant. Another part that stuck out to me is that as Mos Def said, “It’s all city like Phase 2, and hip-hop will amaze you” [from Mos Def’s song “Hip Hop”] And I found out later Phase 2 is one of the most popular graffiti artists in the early ‘80s. And he was “all city,” which meant, five boroughs of New York. He wasn’t relevant in just one borough, he was like, all of New York. He was everywhere. So my whole thing, we were just talking about how I did State Cap, I did Neighborhood Watch. Now I’m with Turf Hop, and then I’m part Live at the Dojo. And then I also do Dope Fix! with Matt Cali. I’m kind of everywhere. I’m all over the map.

Now the acronym, was that something you came up with?
I came up with the acronym.

So why the acronym?
Because that really represents me, I feel, to a T.

Creative Intelligent Troubled Youth?
Yeah.

That was a pretty powerful first track, where you’re talking about leaving a piece of yourself, giving people something to relate to, representing creative, intelligent youth and having hope to inspire and all that. Did you want to talk a little bit about that or tell me if that’s sort of what you’re trying to aspire to or…
I would definitely say my pursuit of music as a career has been for material purposes. But it’s material in the sense of I want to buy my mom a house. And I want to be financially stable. So it’s like, yeah I want jewelry and nice cars and all that too, but I focus on music as a business for that reason. I came in really listening to conscious rap, and I grew up on A Tribe Called Quest and Talib Kweli and all that stuff. But I grew up and I got older and my life experiences started reflecting different stuff. I got a lot more into other types of hip-hop–I don’t want to necessarily say street or gangster rap or anything like that. So I always find it weird in interviews and stuff, when I talk about the “conscious stuff” like that. But that really definitely is my main focus, to inspire people. Especially like I’ve always said, I feel for the mixed kids. Because that’s always one of the biggest things I struggled with when I was younger, being a mix.

I liked “Captain Kirk.” Do you smoke a lot when you write?
It’s part of the creative process.

But when you write?
Yeah. I usually smoke while I write. I actually don’t write. I write, but I don’t write. I always like to touch on this because a lot of different artists have different writing processes, and ever since The Black Album came out, everyone’s like, “Oh yeah, you know, Jay-Z doesn’t write so I don’t write my lyrics. Yeah I do my shit in my head.”

I actually recite the whole song in my head. I don’t touch paper, don’t write in my phone. And I have the entire verse synchronized to the time and lay it out.

Then there’s the one after that, “Money Train?”
That’s just talking about, not just struggle in general, but more so just knowing that there’s a reason that you have to go through the motions. Like even when you’re at the lowest of the low, there’s always light at the end of the tunnel. I know that sounds so cliché. Especially for young people. I find that a lot of the stuff that I talk about in my music, because it’s drawn from a lot of the experiences I had when I was younger, especially when I was 18 to 22, for people in that age bracket, it’s not really cool to talk about that stuff. You don’t really talk about it with your friends. It’s kind of taboo, some of that stuff.

Like what?
Like being really broke, having problems with your family, stuff like that.

You talk about Sacramento a lot, though, in your songs. Or at least you give several shout outs to Sacramento.
I love Sac to death, because I feel like I’m hella cool. I know that sounds extremely cocky but I look at myself from a third-person perspective, like I really went through shit.

I feel like I’m so cool and all this because of Sacramento.

That’s why I have State Cap tattooed on my hand, even though it’s hella faded. Every time I’m out of town that’s the first thing I say on stage is, “I’m from Sacramento, California. The capital.” [Laughs] Because a lot of people think it’s Los Angeles. A lot of people think the capital of California is L.A. That shit is scary.

C Plus’ album release party for All C.I.T.Y. will take place at Beatnik Studios in Sacramento on April 23. Pre-sale tickets are $15 and can be purchased in advance at Thirdletta.eventbrite.com. Pre-sale tickets include a copy of the album.

A comedy club might seem like an unlikely place to hold a hip-hop concert, but that isn’t stopping Aaris Schroeder (founder of UBO Mag) and her crew from throwing what is arguably one of the best hip-hop shows this fall at Laughs Unlimited in Old Sacramento on Thursday, Nov. 18. San Francisco-based MC Equipto from the group Bored Stiff, who is also known for his work with Andre Nickatina, will headline the show and with him will be members of his label’s crew (Solidarity Records), including P.W. Esquire, TabbDoe and B-Line. Also performing will be Z-Man from One Block Radius, and if you’ve ever seen him spit live, you know he’s the real deal. Another musical treat that night will be Michael Marshall, lead singer of the ‘80s R&B/funk band Timex Social Club. Marshall is probably best known for singing the hook on the timeless track “I Got 5 on It” from the rap group Luniz. Local heavy-hitters The Cuf and DJ Kool Kuts are also on the bill, further solidifying the dope-ness of the lineup. Hosting the event will be Big Sta The Legacy, an artist originally from Oakland who now resides in Sacramento. The show is 18-and-over and is only $10 at the door. Music starts at 10 p.m.

Nicatyne MidDay Marauder

The femme-bot voice from A Tribe Called Quest’s classic album Midnight Marauders taught me that seven times out of 10, we listen to our music at night and that “marauder” means someone who loots. Tribe was marauding for listeners. Sacramento’s Nicatyne is out for the remaining 30 percent with MidDay Marauders.

At 21 years old, the Natomas producer-on-the-mic has produced two solo albums, a collaboration album with JoEL and two records with Illecism–both of whom are members of Fly High crew. In a sense, MidDay Marauders is Nicatyne’s sixth record, which is an impressive resume at such a young age. His flow is not as swagged-out as E-40’s braggadocio, but Nicatyne bears some style similarities that make MidDay Marauder feel like shark bites (as in the faux pas of “biting”) on the Bay Area. As Nicatyne states on “12s,” a dedication to 12-inch speakers, there’s only one reason his music has that bass for your trunk: “I knock because I got–12s.”

The album title will feel deceiving, given the young rap community’s recent insistence on reinterpreting the golden age classics (i.e. Fashawn’s Ode to Illmatic). MidDay Marauder is not one of those records.

Nicatyne, like many producers who rhyme, is better at one of his trades–the reason the term “producer-on-the-mic” was coined. Opener “One Morning” is abstract and minimalist with its plumber-banging-on-pipes percussion and dog bark samples, while the East Indian bounce of “Dhalsim” (featuring JoEl) has anthem potential with its “My cash stretch like Dhalsim” chorus chant. Nicatyne’s soft-spoken and nasally flow on “My Way” meshes well with his crawling production that rides a pixie-like vocal sample. Five songs deep into the record, Nicatyne is on a creative tear, but “The Man” disrupts the momentum to a point that the album never recovers its swagger.

Nicatyne lags into whatever rappers are calling the clubby-hyphy style songs these days. Slap? Blap? Someone call it. No matter the slang, I am not ready to accept the track “Deaf Star” and its Comic-Con-meets-night-club format.

MidDay Marauder closes strong with “It’s a Wrap,” which features Illecism, and the barbershop-slap of “Real Banter” is another minimalist banger built around a phrase that might replace “real talk.” The not quite chillwave, not quite R&B production on “Forever” is a close call between lapsing into the corny side of The Dream or the trendy side of Nite Jewel–either way I’ll be answering for that comparison in hell.

I’m still waiting for a Sacramento record that feels as though it was conceived strictly with a Sac-Proper state of mind. An identity crisis is spreading like a plague on the scene. It’s time for a sound to be identified as pure, instead of pandered toward the greater Northern California region.

DLRN keeps their latest release, and those to come, close to the vest

It’s coming back around. Young artists are expecting more from their culture. Take the art of Kehinde Wiley, for example: He paints the stereotypical street hustler in gentlemanly poses against backdrops of elegant tapestries, juxtaposing the ghetto with the affluent. Sacramento’s DLRN is analogous to Wiley’s vision of celebrating the complexity of hip-hop culture.

Hip-hop has reached a reputable age, and decades deep it has its own version of royalty. As of late though, it has become less of a culture, less of an art form and more of an economic commodity. Sean La Marr, under the nom de plume 5th Ave, sees a potential for change without leaving the sleepy city of Sacramento. La Marr’s video for the song “Dear Langston” is a testament to his hometown pride, as it used Wiley’s art as inspiration–showcasing the city’s talented inhabitants mimicking the regal poses of the elite–the same poses present in Wiley’s portraits.

It’s clear La Marr loves Sacramento hip-hop with the sincerest of hearts. Our interview was intended to discuss the new record his group, DLRN, is dropping this week. Yet, it was during our post-interview hangout session that he revealed his passion for the local scene.

Last year DLRN dropped its No More Heroes record with the intention of introducing new heroes to the hip-hop canon and creating an alternate narrative not traditionally found within the genre. “From an MC standpoint, I was very disillusioned with it,” 5th Ave said. “I came to the realization that a lot of the faces of hip-hop these days I do not relate to. I don’t see them as role models or the influential voices that they once were.”

DLRN, formerly known as Delorean, consists of MC 5th Ave, born Sean La Marr, and producer Jon Reyes. DLRN is retro-fashioned and reactionary, operating in a space that is not quite conscious rap and not quite club rap either. “We’re a product of different time periods and different people, that’s part of how we came up with the name Delorean,” Reyes said.

Unfortunately, a Spanish trance-pop had already claimed the Delorean moniker.

“Our tastes are more eclectic than most acts you’ll hear,” La Marr said, which means they were aware of a possible conflict in their future if they kept the name. By dropping the vowels to DLRN, the group hoped to dodge any cease and desist suits or mistaken-identity tour dates.

“It’s funny because we knew about them when we decided to go with the name,” La Marr said. “We just decided we better blow up before they do. But, then they were on ABC, they had a national tour and became Pitchfork darlings.”

La Marr continued with an anecdote, “We almost didn’t get booked at a show in Seattle because they played at the same venue two weeks prior. We’ll have stuff posted on our Facebook page about events that they’re doing and vice versa.”

Reyes added, “We can’t really hate it, because they’re a really talented band.”

The duo is excited about the switch, citing MGMT and MSTRKRFT as other successful bands that dropped the vowels. Sacramento is now tallied at two non-vowel band names (the other being CHLLNGR) with potential to join the celebrated ranks.

The topic evolved into a discussion over the ethereal trends in cycle of kindred band name themes–such as bands named “wolf-something” or rappers named Lil’. Apparently, there was a birth explosion of Deloreans around the early Naughties. “We thought about adding a word to make it Delorean Brown,” La Marr said. Reyes interjected, “A good reference to one of the greatest wrestlers of the modern era, D’Lo Brown. “ La Marr continued, “But, it turns out there was a Delorean Brown already in Sacramento. Here I think we’re being clever.”

With a new name, DLRN sought out to craft its followup to No More Heroes. The Bridge was recorded at Pinnacle College in Rancho Cordova, which La Marr described as a “sterile” environment in comparison to Omina Labs, where No More Heroes was recorded. It took time, but DLRN enlisted the help of its student body to help them settle into the new digs. “It’s good working with people that you’re friends with outside of the music,” Reyes said. “It makes for very chill sessions.”

Reyes described the recording process for The Bridge, out July 20, 2010 as a free download, as a humbling and surreal experience. The students that volunteered were mostly fans of DLRN prior to the sessions. “Those are the people you’re making it for and they are sitting right next to you,” he said.

Accessing the privilege to hear the new record has been kept to limited company–possibly on a “nothing leaves the studio” policy. The reasoning is DLRN has a purpose with its messages. It’s encoded in the video for “Dear Langston” and on The Bridge. The two releases reference one another, and provide insight into the already planned third album. When I asked the name of the next record, I was met with stoicism and a round-about answer. “There is a hint in the last song,” La Marr said. “I hate to not tell it to you, but when you hear the next DLRN project it will make sense.”

I did not hear the hint in my exclusive The Bridge listening session. But I did hear a reason alongside the Cloud City record to be excited about local hip-hop in July. The Bridge’s first video features Prometheus Brown of Blue Scholars, while the record has further appearances by Hopie Spitshard, Illecism and Chuuwee. That’s all I am allowed to disclose.

DLRN has major plans to kick off August by celebrating the release of The Bridge in what La Marr hopes will be the biggest hip-hop event of the summer. After hearing the words “tequila tasting,” “kegs of free Miller High Life,” “free sushi” and “the Miller High Life girls,” I am not opposed to declaring it the event of the summer either. “I’ve been to a lot of hip-hop shows and I’d hate for this to be just another hip-hop show,” he said. The release party is Aug. 6, 2010 at Beatnik Studios.

In my brief tenure with Submerge, I’ve met a lot of local rappers, most of which have this ambition, rooted in frustration, to overcome their surroundings. It is a career plan that includes reaching or leaving for the Bay Area and Los Angeles markets. La Marr never once spoke with a belittling tone toward his hometown. Instead, we sat for an extra half-hour talking about our favorite Sacramento rappers, putting me on to a great local joint by Blee featuring Doey Rock. “You know what, come to the show and I’ll have a mixtape for you of all my favorite Sacramento shit,” La Marr said. I left thinking, it’s that kind of dedication to the scene that makes someone the founder of a collective such as the Neighborhood Watch. He’s got our best interests at heart.

Go to Beatnik Studios on Aug. 6 for DLRN’s The Bridge record release party. Free Tequila tasting and beer for those 21-and-over will be available. There will also be VIP wrist band bottle service. Come dressed as Alice in Wonderland and get in free. Prize awarded for best costume.