As long as I’ve had my fancy for hip-hop, and the musical aspect of it, I’ve heard about “the ones and twos,” scratched with my anxious fingers to the empty airs fuelled by the break beats and chirps repeated over and over in my imagination. So getting a chance to be on the other end of the turntables, the side where the heart of any party is, was quite the thrill. As I prepare to replicate that magnificent aura of fades and breaks native to my nostalgia, visualizing what sonic assault I could let forth, a warning by my new friend Tony(whom I met that night) brought me back to reality - he told everybody that the needles cost $200 each. So when my turn on the wheels at last came, I had long since found another outlet for what destructive awe my urges would have upon the booth. Like a madman high on the vapours of sorted vinyl, I went through so many crates of records like my tomorrows would come to a dead halt after my spot on the wax came to an end. The crates contained an impressive selection of modern day hip-hop jams and a wide range of reggae compilations.

Mine was a flawed performance, although I captured a childlike delight in running the fader between Shyne’s “Bad Boyz” and “Girls Dem Sugar,” and playing with a segue between T.I.’s “24s” and Game’s “Hate It or Love It.” For the myriad of wax masters worldwide, from Kid Capri to DJ Honda to Q-Bert to DJ Kool Herc to Jazzy Joyce, who’ve used the blessing of their uncanny ears and intuition for matching beat lines and transitional “hit” patterns, adjusting the pitch speed of a record is a relatively elementary and brief feat. I, in my endless fancy, couldn’t stop tinkering with the pitch levels on the records, like a Heatmakerz understudy. It had been so long since I’d last used a record player, that I’d sometimes play the wrong song, or catch the middle of one, and not the beginning. But it was great to finally get a shot on the turntables.

For the most part, the multifaceted artistry of hip-hop is left astray in the heavy influence that is put on the music and particularly, the MC. Granted, it’s everywhere you hear a rap song or a hip-hop star’s spark of controversy, but the other elements----the break-dancing, the graf, and the DJ’ing, aren’t really in the eyes and ears of the mainstream. Chances are that they may never be, as lightning in some ways already struck with “Beat Street” and “Wild Style” and such. For the disappointment that I have seen in people based on the musical and lyrical perspectives of hip-hop, as an avid listener and as a frequenter of hip-hop forums (both electronic and verbal), there’s a lot to be learned in exposure to the other elements. They are worlds within themselves, encapsulated by names such as Crazy Legs, Futura2000, Red Alert, Fab 5 Freddy and so on. Simply taking a go at the DJ booth, my natural enthusiasm aside had me realize that there is always much to learn as a patron of this thing called hip-hop. This is something I’ve thought for a long time, and perhaps this anecdote has given voice to said thoughts.

Initially, I thought this project wouldn’t go anywhere outside of the initial story at the party, when I got an interesting beacon in the mail yesterday. I call it a beacon, but most would call a fresh copy of DJ Domination’s DVD, “World Domination.” While down in Florida around ‘01 and ‘02, I heard of this fellow from a public access music video show called “Video Mix,” which is based out of Miami, I believe. He promoted the release of the video, and showcased his skills on the wax, and most memorably, a snippet of a famed “battle” with adult film starlet Heather Hunter was aired on the show. I was absolutely wowed at the footage of the battle, and went on to track down this video. As an autobiographical piece somewhat in nature, I expected to hear the story from Domination himself about his beginnings in Pittsburgh, to Miami and the world all over, to the ranks of the “World’s Greatest DJ.” What I didn’t expect however, was that the DVD also featured some segments where he shows the audience how to shop around for equipment, and how to perform such moves as breaks, chirps, and body moves. It was a pleasant surprise, and it geared me on to concluding this piece.

While it may be some time before the beast known by Technics, Stanton, and Numark may be in my possession, the fun is in learning from its heralded masters how to become one all my own, or at least how to rock a hell of a party with one. If nothing else, names like Jam Master Jay (R.I.P.), Scott La Rock (R.I.P.), Kay Slay, Tony Touch, Cipha Sounds will keep its renown fresh in the minds of the young and old alike. In other forums, you have the Rock Steady Crew, Zulu Nation, Fat Joe and Beat Factory supporting the other forms of hip-hop, which are no less important in the full scheme of things. In their power, in their finesse, in the other elements lies something intangible, yet so powerful as to promote the longevity of their names and the craft which birthed them all the same. It is something so entrancing, so accessible, and unfortunately so overlooked, yet so necessary in these chaotic. That thing is knowledge. To keep this hip-hop strong, we all must take our share of it, in any and every way that it provides.