Hola Bobbito - In D.C. On the Sneak Tip

June 24, 2008 by Sexy Fitsum  Send to a Friend

» Dateline: Wednesday, June 18, 2008

How a Hip Hop legend like DJ Bobbito can slide into our humble (and for the moment) chocolately lil hamlet and play to a fully involved but modest-sized crowd at Liv is beyond me. It’s a damn shame really. Bobbito of the Stretch Armstrong and Bobbito radio show — the show that just might be responsible for Hip Hop’s Second Golden Age, consistently by blowing up the demo tapes of Jay-Z, Nas, and the whole Wu Tang Clan in the early 1990s when they were unsigned and unknown. Bobbito, the Rock Steady Crewmember (second wave, but whatever) — known then as Cucumber Slice — along with certified killers such as Evil D, DJ Q-Bert, Mix Master Mike and DJ Eclipse. Bobbito, OG sneaker pimp, without whom those fey limeys would’ve had to call themselves “Yes Mate, We’re Lame”.

Personal outrage and light crowd aside, the music and positive energy were on track all night. Grap Luva was the evening’s master of ceremonies. He’s Pete Rock’s younger brother and the second voice in the cypher on Mecca and The Soul Brother’s “The Basement”, sort of a small-scale legend in his own right. DJ Roddy Rod opened up with a solid set of well-known anthems that had the entire club in rap-along mode. Afterwards, his Serrato rig was dismantled, making way for Mr. Robert Garcia and his 45s. Sweeeet. Bobbito took it all the way back to the 60s, mixing older soul and boogaloo nuggets from the full breadth of that deacade’s treasure. Stimulated Dummies — not to be confused with Beatnuts associates Constipated Monekys — and their work on Grand Puba’s 1992 album “Reel to Reel” is a great, possibly the first, example of the 60s R&B sound applied to an entire Hip Hop album. The dancefloor responded with sweat and enthusiasm in the form of a relentless dance circle. (How come clubs ban those things?)

In homage to either Bobbito’s sneaker obsession in particular, or the international jones in general, four pairs of Adidas Superstars (you know, “shelltoes”) that local artist Imani customized were on display in a plastic case behind a velvet rope. Check out the Aqua Teen Hunger Force blickees on her blog The display stood on the floor, at about an equidistant point between the kids in the dance circle and the dj, three of four essential elements of a Culture that, sadly, few in D.C. could obviously be bothered with this evening.

» More of what your bummy ass missed is here.

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