It's 1983, school holidays I think. I leave my house to see who's out and about. We all seem to congregate around the newsagent's shop at the top of the road as there's lots of room for b-boying (the new thing that's taken over from the BMX craze for a lot of folk). No-one's there. I can hear music so I start to walk and eventually see the son of the owner of the newsagent on the other side of the road singing along to the whatever song it was on his 'ghetto blaster'. He had the largest portable hi-fi system on the street. Massive it was. He was loaded too. Always got the newest stuff, best BMX, best trainers. His dad even built a mini BMX track but we were all allowed to use that, which was nice. He himself was massive too. He was a year younger than me but he was freakishly tall, stood 6'6" and had size 12 feet when he was 13 years old. I asked him where everyone was and he blanked me totally and just sang along to the record that was on. I pulled a face and watched him as he looked straight forward, never acknowledging my presence for a second and I became impressed as he appeared to know all the words. And he wasn't singing, he was rapping. 'champagne, caviar and bubble bath...' 'take that and move back, catch a heart attack...' I turned my attention from him to the music and was immediately hooked. I fancied myself as a bit of a drummer (I had two old cricket stumps that I used to hit my bed with in time to my punk records) so the pounding beat mesmerised me. I was already heavily in to breaking, hadn't ridden my bike for weeks but this was my first taste of hip hop music. I sneaked a peek at the tape and it was 'streetsounds electro 4' and that was my first purchase at the record stall in the market when I mustered up enough cash. No more punk records for me. A transition had occurred and there was no looking back.
Bad Azz – Money Run (CD) (2003) (FLAC + 320 kbps)
16 hours ago