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Twin Town High (vol. 8) |
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Inside Rhymesayers
Sunday 05 March @ 17:07:46 |
 by Steve McPherson
Oklahoma hip-hop. Boise hip-hop. No offense to the possibly burgeoning hip-hop scenes in these areas, but there’s a reason that when you say Minnesota hip-hop and Twin Cities hip-hop it sounds legitimate—and not just here, but in New York, Los Angeles and in the music scene in general. There’s a thriving and vibrant hip-hop community here, and as much as you can attribute it to one thing, that thing would be Rhymesayers Entertainment (RSE).
 “I
think for a long time we carried the scene and that was great,” says Siddiq,
aka Brent Sayers, who formed the record label back in the mid-’90s with
Sean Daley (you know, Slug) and a handful of co-conspirators. “That, to
me, was the shit; to be able to look back and really feel that we created the
scene that’s here and carried it on our back for a long time.” Which
is not to say that Rhymesayers is the only game in town; he’s just reminiscing
about a time when there was no scene, when the idea that a local hip-hop group
could have eight consecutive sold-out shows at the Seventh St. Entry seemed
patently ridiculous.
 “I
was working with the Headshots crew, and we were all just doing our thing,”
he explains when I ask about the beginnings of what has slowly grown into one
of the premier indie hip-hop labels in the nation. “We were just loosely
affiliated. At the time, I had been involved in club promotion and doing after-parties
and stuff like that and me and a partner of mine, this cat Ralph, had started
doing these Microphone Check showcases. Basically, they showcased local hip-hop
acts and then we’d bring in one national act to headline out the night.
The winners from each individual one then came to a final. At the time, I was
working with production for the Abstract Pack and then through the showcases
kind of met a lot of the other groups because a lot of us had a common bond.
We started doing the Headshots tapes and so I did all those, basically pulled
everything together. And then after that, we decided we were gonna go for it
and put out a full-length record. At that point, Musab—who was going by
Beyond at the time—had the most material done. He probably had 100+ songs
done at that time with him and [producer] Ant [Anthony Davis]. [We] went into
the studio, started recording it, had all kinds of problems going on with the
studio we were working out of and that’s when were were like, fuck it,
let’s buy our own equipment. So we went out and bought what we needed
to do it, just the bare minimum, and recorded at my house. So through that whole
process, we just decided we were going to need a record label and started playing
around with things. And the name had kind of been thrown out there before, because
I was, in a sense, like a father figure to a lot of the cats. All the groups
and stuff were the ‘Rhymesayers’ and so it was a play off of my
last name. Next thing you know we had a logo. And just rolled with it. It just
snowballed from there and we took on a more serious approach as we progressed.”
 It
seems almost accidental, doesn’t it? It’s probably the single most
interesting aspect of how Rhymesayers has accomplished what it has: the entire
organization manages to cultivate an air of simultaneously being hard-working,
dedicated and down-to-business while making it seem like a place you want to
hang out. When I came by the offices to interview J-Bird [Jason Cook], I walked
in on a lengthy discussion between him and tour manager/soundman Randy Hawkins
about where exactly John Belushi died and if they had ever booked Atmosphere
into the same hotel in Beverly Hills.
Bird, as he’s usually called, is an amiable and generally unassuming guy,
his office decorated primarily with small, colorfully-painted, bunny-like action
figures that look vaguely Japanese in origin. The Chicago native cut his teeth
interning at BMG before breaking into management with Rubberroom, a Chicago
hip-hop group that was the unfortunate victim of the kind of label mismanagement
endemic to indie imprints when the group was signed to New York’s 3-2-1
Records in the late ‘90s. After that label’s messy disintegration,
Bird began working with Rhymesayers (whom he’d made connections with during
his time with Rubberroom) on Atmosphere tours before eventually moving up to
the Twin Cities. Since then, he’s been a road dawg for RSE, although as
things have evolved, his role has gradually changed. When he came on board,
and up until two years ago, Rhymesayers didn’t have proper distribution,
and touring was important because that was how they got CDs into the fans’
hands.
“Now that our distribution is more solid, touring is equally important,”
Bird explains, “but a lot of our artists have agents, and then with Atmosphere—with
the full band—Randy does sound and tour management so I don’t necessarily
need to be on the road all the time, which brings it into the next phase, which
is more than likely heading up marketing and still doing the touring stuff because
everyone has to wear multiple hats. [We’ve been] building this marketing
department between me and Kevin [Beacham, aka DJ Nikoless]. We’re looking
at structuring Rhymesayers out more than what it is right now.”
You’ll hear the term “organic” tossed around a lot when people
talk about underground hip-hop, and in general, it means one of two things:
lazy or carefully manicured to appear more “real” than it really
is. Applied to Rhymesayers, though, it means taking careful and measured steps,
feeling their way along the edges that divide the improbable from the impossible
until the business has grown into a symbiotic relationship with the music scene.
 “It
was definitely more of a natural thing,” says Siddiq. “It was definitely
built out of necessity. You know, if we were all born and living on the coasts,
we’d probably be going the same route that most other acts go, but everything—from
day one—there was really nothing there, and there wasn’t really
an agenda: It was just a bunch of cats doing what they love to do and we tapped
into the passion that all of us had from early on. There was nobody necessarily
looking for hip-hop to come out of Minnesota, so it just created an environment
to do it ourselves. But I think I always naturally had that independent spirit
from the sense of I was never really much of a conformist. Even through having
really good jobs, I was always pretty much bucking any kind of corporate system.
There wasn’t a lot of avenues and paths already paved at the time, so
for us, we were doing a lot of firsts. There wasn’t necessarily a blueprint
to follow.”
But now RSE finds itself on the horns of a dilemma, because with increased success
comes an increased need to organize and structure the business. Not so long
ago, the Rhymesayers office was one room behind the company-owned record store
Fifth Element with five people
all working in there at the same time. About two years ago, they began extensive
renovations, turning the Fifth Element building into a bona fide complex, and
they’ve been in the new offices for nearly a year now. The plan now is
to build a studio where they can record in-house (see sidebar, "Joe
Mabbott's Big Move"), but there’s no hot tub or anything similarly
lavish. The decision to reinvest in the office was made because it was the next
step.
“That’s definitely been the key to our success [the slow build],”
says Siddiq. “That’s probably part of the reason why most indie
startups don’t last too long, unless they have some kind of flagship artist.
This is something we’ve been growing for over 10 years and so we’ve
been able to build a pretty solid foundation. We don’t take huge leaps
and we do that on purpose. Even sometimes when there’s opportunities to
take huge leaps, if we don’t feel that it’s the best move, we won’t
do it. Trying to jump up further than you really should at any given time just
works against you. I’d rather spend a little bit more time getting to
that point and knowing we’re completely ready. We didn’t have distribution
until two years ago. And that’s really kind of crazy for a label of our
stature. But it worked for us; we found a way to make it work and to survive
doing it completely ourselves. And then when we did go get distribution, we
were more than ready and the marketplace was more than ready for it, ‘cause
we had built up such a demand and there was such a void. So all these things
really worked to our advantage, whereas you get a lot of labels and they may
have a couple names they can secure a distribution deal on, but then the records
don’t sell and they don’t go anywhere from that point because there’s
really no foundation there.”
 As
much as possible, Siddiq tries to keep the same vision and agenda he had when
RSE was making tapes to give out at shows back in ’95. In my experience,
people you talk to at labels—from indies to majors—have a spiel
they like to give about how the business works and plenty of grand ideas about
how to succeed, but most of those people end up out of business. A lot of independent
labels try to start from where Rhymesayers is right now, but you can’t
underestimate what 10 years has taught them. Siddiq says it’s not uncommon
for him to get into the office at 10 a.m. and be there until three, four, or
five in the morning; it’s the kind of leadership you need to get over
in this industry. After partnering with New York-based label Fat Beats on Atmosphere’s
Godlovesugly and California-based label Epitaph on the follow-up, Seven’s
Travels, for distribution, RSE wanted to put out Atmosphere’s latest,
You Can’t Imagine How Much Fun We’re Having, completely
on their own without any ties to other companies. So far they’ve sold
100,000 copies. It’s not gold status or anything, but try this on: Imagine
100,000 people paying attention to anything you’ve done in your life.
That level of success doesn’t just come from having tight flows and beats,
though. “We bring our artists through the quote-unquote Rhymesayers Boot
Camps,” explains Bird, who’s had some experience as a drill sergeant.
“Atmosphere’s the flagship artist: Sean [Slug] has been doing this
longer than any of them and has built Atmosphere to the point, touring-wise,
that they can sell out bigger rooms. So he’ll bring [Brother] Ali out
on the Godlovesugly tour when he’s never been out there before.
It’s up to the artist to put on a great show and be responsible, but they
learn because they watch Sean: Sean’s on time, Sean does all his interviews.
Sometimes we’ll do 16, 17 shows in a row non-stop. So when you roll like
that, you learn the ropes. We brought Ali out, P.O.S. went out the same way
and it’s been continuous where we bring developing artists out and they
see from the ground level how much work this really is. Touring has been that
foundation pretty much since the beginning and at least since I’ve been
here. That was part of my goal: to really implement a touring structure in Rhymesayers,
because that’s one of the things I first saw when I saw Atmosphere play
the Entry. When I met Sean, I was like, man, you gotta take it on the road.
We just started doing it, grinding it. Driving to Texas, doing a show. Going
to Chicago, doing a show and driving back overnight because people had to work
the next day. Sleeping on people’s floors. Whatever it took. A lot of
people that are newer don’t know that it’s been a long time coming.
Atmosphere didn’t just sell 100,000 records.”
 “Not
everybody gets it,” says Siddiq. “We definitely try to take and
duplicate the approach in the sense of those that have made two steps, show
the person behind you those two steps and continue moving it forward that way
and building that mentality. It’s worked for us and the artists that do
get it and the artists that do embrace it have all seen success, so obviously
there’s something to it.”
Of course, it’s not all feel-good success stories. This is, after all,
a money-making industry and Rhymesayers has to navigate the shark-infested waters
like anybody. There’s been some recent flak over Best Buy’s program
of promoting a handful of indie titles for the low, low price of $7.99, which
is not only lower than the price at most indie record stores, it’s lower
than wholesale in a lot of cases. This is pretty much in line with the way Best
Buy has always treated music. They’re not there to sell CDs; the CDs get
people into the store and buying big-screen TVs, Dolby Surround sound systems
and washers and dryers. It’s an opt-in program, and Rhymesayers has participated,
but they’re in something of a unique position with regard to retail.
“It is what it is,” Siddiq says. “It’s all bullshit,
really. We don’t control it, we can’t do much about it. And I know
both sides of the table; I’m undercutting myself [because of Fifth Element].
Yeah, it’s fucked up, yeah it sucks, but what are you going to do? You
can’t take them out of the equation; it’s impossible. And as an
independent label, you need them as an ally. We need to have our records in
Best Buy if we want to see some level of success. Retail is shrinking every
fucking day so you can’t really just be like, because Best Buy undercuts
on 10, 12 titles, or whatever it is, when they do that shit, what are you going
to do about it? To me, it more puts the onus on those independent retailers
to really step their game up.  We
[as a retailer] have to be creative and think outside of the box and also, too,
we have to depend on the clientele that doesn’t want to shop for their
music at Best Buy. Because that is the case with certain people. But in the
same sense, I’ve done the same thing that any of these other indie retailers
have done, where you can actually go to Best Buy and buy product and sell it
in your store cheaper than you can get it through any one-stop or distributor.
It’s ridiculous, but that is what it is. Us not being involved in it isn’t
going to change it; they’re still gonna do it. Nothing we can do in that
equation is gonna change it other than just be on our game as far as an independent
retailer and really try and be progressive on what we provide to the community
that we’re trying to serve. But there’s a whole marketplace that
doesn’t care about music [in an independent way]. You can’t stray
away from that market; you can’t negate those people who don’t care
about going to independent shops, who don’t care about all the stuff that
goes along with being a music enthusiast and just wants to buy that song they
heard from so-and-so. I don’t necessarily like it, but I also recognize
that you can’t really do much about it, not in today’s market.”
Siddiq goes on to explain that they, as a label, try to work with independent
retailers on special programs as well, sending them special items the chains
don’t get, doing in-stores. As an observer, it can be easy to be idealistic
about it, but it’s considerably harder when you’re in the game.
Like it or not, there is a structure to the industry and you can either play
ball with it or take your ball and go home. Going home only hurts you because
there are plenty of labels willing to deal in this fashion. It’s a business,
and that involves compromise. So is the glass half-full or half-empty? At what
point is the next step the first step towards selling out? I’m not comfortable
saying, having never been there myself, but my gut tells me that Siddiq’s
gut is probably right: RSE is still on the level.
 “The
best thing is that it is an artist-based label,” says Bird, “where
there’s not a dress code to come to work. Nobody guards you and I think
that allows you to do other things. You can DJ; you can do radio shows; you
can go teach classes like Kevin does. Having that open forum and then just feeling
like you’re really a part of this whole thing. I mean I feel privileged
to have been there with Atmosphere through five years. Getting to watch these
kids love it. I think it’s important when you’re an independent
record company to be on the frontlines a lot because those kids are the kids
that are supporting you. They’ll tell you what you’re doing wrong
and they’ll tell you what you’re doing right. Being out there and
seeing the excitement in kids’ eyes, and just watching ‘em at the
show and then how much the artists really really care and taking the extra time
out. Everybody thinks, ‘You’re an artist, you have the best job
in the world,’ but come on, if you’re in a van for eight, 10 hours;
you do an in-store; you get [to the venue], you do your soundcheck; you do two
hours of interviews; you have a half-hour and then you go on and then afterwards
you still go to the merch table and shake kids hands for an hour or talk to
‘em. That takes a toll. They care about the record company and the whole
thing. To be part of those kind of people is a privilege. I’ve learned
a lot; I’ve seen the world. I didn’t even have to go in the Marines,
dude. I got to see Japan, Australia, New Zealand, Europe, Iceland.”
The journey of a thousand miles (which these cats seem to have done a couple
times over) begins with a single step, and they’re doing an admirable
job of focusing on the next one, not the one three steps down the line. After
all, the next step is the only step you can take, right? When I ask Siddiq about
what’s coming up for the label, his response speaks volumes about a man
in the trenches: “More of the same, really. It’s nothing crazy but
also, when you’re in the midst of it, it’s just more of the same,
to me. So it’s kind of hard to explain in the sense of, this is happening
and this is happening. There’s plenty happening, but to me, it’s
no big deal; it’s just another day at the office. It’s just another
day.” ||
 
 
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