Your Favorite White Boy

Having just got out of a screening of the Notorious B.I.G. biopic Notorious, I was surprised at all the thoughts and memories that came flooding back to me surrounding that particular time in my personal hip-hop history. While I feel that the flick did Biggie's life and story justice, I'm hoping I can do the same here with my personal tale.

I'm no different than a million other heads when it comes to how I see Biggie: one of the greatest that did it, or will ever do it - period. But we all throw those words and phrases (G.O.A.T) around without ever really qualifying it. Like any musician, there are a gang of different ways Biggie could be defined as great: his flow, his personality, his ability to craft a song. But oftentimes, what makes an artist really great are the intangibles - the way that their music makes you feel.

Watching Notorious tonight brought me right back to that time when Biggie was about to blow. I always enjoyed Dre, Snoop and the West Coast, going back to N.W.A. At the time, they were changing the game, for better or for worse, with their G-Funk formula. I loved it. But in my heart, I have always been an East Coast cat. I believe that a person's overall tastes are largely shaped by early influences. Mine were Run DMC, BDP, Public Enemy, EPMD. That's where my love of hip-hop started.

When I spun Ready To Die for the first time, it was like that love had been reborn. Even though there was some fantastic music out at the time, there was nothing that could go head to head with the West. As song after song came out of the speakers, every element that makes hip-hop so unique was there: hard, but melodic beats, dope party jams and of course, vivid storytelling using ill wordplay.

B.I.G. brought back the idea of a true MC - he dropped verses for days, but did it in such an entertaining way, his reach went far beyond hardcore fans. Everyone I knew, regardless of background - any a lot of my people are far, far removed from anything hip-hop - knew the lyrics to "Juicy" and "Big Poppa".

I had seen it before, but this was some of the strongest illustrations of the power and appeal of rap music. While only true heads could appreciate how good this man on the mic really was, those with even a rudimentary knowledge of rap music knew the name Notorious B.I.G. Through sheer ability, Biggie had made sure everyone had felt his presence that year.

No matter who they are, when an artist first starts out, you take them for granted because you look at the Rolling Stones and figure they'll be around to be old, old men doing legends tours or they'll be like countless other rap pioneers and eventually fall off. I certainly felt that way with B.I.G. I figured I'd get at least 3 or 4 great albums out of him before he was done, so I moved on to other new releases while I waited for him to drop new material. If only I knew.

I remember hearing buzz about his new album and I was getting excited as the release date got closer. At the time, I had to go to special spots to get hot mixtapes (actual tapes mind you) and the B.I.G. features just whetted my appetite for more. There were no leaks or downloads, and the only radio station around played too much R&B for me to tolerate while I waited for the next hot hip-hop joint. But I had heard "Hypnotize" and I knew Biggie was about to take over again. I was ready.

I came home late from work on the evening of March 9th, 1997. I was a student at the time living at my parents' house in our nation's capital and I worked part-time to pay my living expenses. A cliche, but I still remember that night like it just happened. My Moms was watching the late edition of the news and a story came up at the end of the broadcast that Biggie had been shot and killed in L.A. I had literally just came in the door. I dropped my bag and sat on the couch for a good 10 minutes, in silence.

While my Mom was asking me what was up, all I was thinking was "no more albums". Cold, yes - but that's how a young suburban cat from Ontario, Canada knew Christopher Wallace. I was shocked. Like many others, I figured the untimely death of Tupac Shakur put an end to all this East/West bullsh*t. I never thought it would claim the life of one of its greatest stars.

I didn't really understand the magnitude of his absence until Life After Death came out. Listening to that album was - and still is - bittersweet. I loved it, but every time I listened to it, I felt that much worse that Biggie would not be around to grow as an artist and really take himself, and hip-hop, as far he was undoubtably going to. One only needs to listen to "Sky's The Limit" to realize that Biggie was evolving as a person and that this was only the beginning. Only we now know that it was, in fact, the end.

I feel blessed to have been a fan at the time when the world discovered the Notorious B.I.G. When you're a fan of hip-hop before it truly went mainstream - back when you'd throw on a rap record and your friends and family look at you like you've completely lost your mind - you feel like you're holding on to an incredible secret. You know what you have, but others don't.

As such a fan, to see hip-hop become so accepted and respected is like watching a child come into their own: you always knew people would appreciate them once they knew them like you know them, but you always worry that they will be rejected by close minded people who never have and never will get it.

Biggie was our ambassador to the world. He was the one we could point to when we were trying to explain to the uninitiated why we love this music so damn much. He made them believe. He fulfilled rap's potential. And just like that, he was taken from us.

After watching Notorious, I was once again reminded of exactly what I lost that night. But at the same time, I was reminded why I came to value it so much in the first place. I'm glad som man people have a chance to hear his story.

Rest in Peace, Christopher Wallace. And thank you.