Here’s a little story I got to tell……

What can’t a white, middle class graffiti writing, bass playing, skateboarding, dj say about the Beastie Boys?

This post could go on as long as the legacy of the man I’m trying to honor.

It’s endless.

The more I think about what The Beastie Boys have meant to me, the more I realize how much I, and MILLIONS of us owe to them.

So much of my life, and my style and choice in music is directly related to The Beastie Boys.

DIRECTLY.

The 73 Fender P bass? The Beastie Boys.

The tight jeans, jean jacket, Ray Bans, mustache, livin in NYC style? The Beastie Boys.

Listening to Eddie Harris, Funkadelic, Sly, Roland Kirk, The Meters, Joe Tex, and on and on and on.

It all started for me personally in 1986. I was standing by a launch ramp in a typical Philadelphia suburban neighborhood, holding onto my Kevin Staab mini and wondering how this guy just busted a backside 360 with such ease when a kid looked at me with the utmost pretentiousness and said, “You Like The Beastie Boys?”

Without hesitation, I responded, “Hell yeah. The Beastie Boys Rule dude.”

And off I went to try to figure out who the fuck The Beastie Boys were.

It didn’t take me, or the rest of the world long to learn the name. In a time when bands needed years to get their name out, the Beastie Boys shot onto the scene like shaken Budweiser from a keyhole.

I lost a true hero of my childhood. An icon. A musical master. What other group, especially in hip hop, has put out at the very LEAST three ALL TIME CLASSIC RECORDS.

Those first three Beasties records are undeniably classics.

NOT good.

Not amazing.

CLASSICS.

Mother fuckin legendary.

Who else in rap music is bending the genres like The Beastie Boys.

Fuzz bass pioneers. Straight up.

I went to Bottom Of The Hill in San Francisco somewhere around the time when Check Your Head came out because rumor was The Beastie Boys were bumrushin a punk rock show.

OF COURSE THEY WERE.

They did a punk rock show with 9 other bands as me and 2 million other people stood around outside wishing we were moshing to Cookie Puss.

DAMN!

FUCK. I’m all fuckin teary eyed. I’m pissed. I feel like I did when Tie One died. I feel like I lost a friend.

But you know what?

Long live MCA!

We know what we gotta do now, right? We know. If you’re confused about what I’m talking about it’s because you’re a fuckin poser.

Real artists know what time it is. It’s time to get that feeling back in art and music. It’s time to fight for our rights again. It’s time to check your head and get intergalactic.

Don’t let Adam down. Breathe. Build your inner temple. Meditate. Receive the visions of the gods. Accept your path. Walk straight. Master your high.

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