True Story©... "Produced By Phlip"
(artist's rendering)
I've been busy, and I'm here to expla--...
S'cuse me, I need to throw back to a phone call I made a few weeks ago...
Them: "I been kinda waiting on this call."
Me: "Bro, you said my name in a track?"
Jericho: "Heh, yeah I kinda did. It was a compliment, a thanks though."
Me: "Appreciate it, I guess. I mean, I ain't do MOST of that shit you said I did though."
Jericho: "That's the game... We all cappin' to be totally honest."
Me: "Well now I'm involved."
Jericho: "What?"
Me: "If my name is attached, so shall be my work."
Jericho: "Again... What!?"
Me: "I'mma help you, but I'mma HELP-help you."
Jericho: "Sheeeeeid, that's all you had to say! What we getting up to?"
Me: "First of all, get rid of that fuckin' voice modulator. I listened to your album and it--..."
Jericho: "But it's fun! It allows me to be whoever I want to--..."
Me: "Confused the shit out of me. One artist, one voice. If you want new voices, give em new personas."
Jericho: "One voice it is, I guess."
Me: "Next, this 'collection of unrelated songs' approach is dead... over."
Jericho: "But--..."
Me: "Your attention span is not my concern, I've lived with ADHD all my life... We focus, we stick to the idea."
Jericho: "But what if I have a lot of ideas that don't match at the same time?"
Me: "Sir! We make what's on our mind at a moment and set it aside to use later."
Jericho: "So just work on a bunch of different stuff at the same time."
Me: "Bingo. Next is these beats, who been making these for you?"
Jericho: "One of the homies from around the wa--..."
Me: "... me now."
Jericho: "I thought you was a landscaper? You been able to make beats this whole time and you ain't--..."
Me: "... because I honestly don't really fuck with trap, I'm almost 47 and my hip hop brain is trapped in 1995 to 2003."
Jericho: "Then why do you care?"
Me: "Because it is honestly easier to make then you're making it. You getting beats from me now, and me exclusively. Matter fact I just sent you one."
Jericho: "Got it."
Me: "So go cook to that, get back to me."
And with that, we ended the call and I went on with my day...
... that is, until I received an email with a WAV file 'whatcanthedo.wav' later on that same evening.
I won't even describe it here, I'll just share it with you...
Yeah
Blicky Bobby
Shout out Phlip
What can’t he do?
What can’t he do? (huh?)
Work all day, then he clock in two
Yard so clean, got the neighbors confused
Beats so mean, make the block go woo (woo)
What can’t he do? (yeah)
Band in the stands, he conducting the crew
Grandbaby smile, that’s a whole new view
If I ever grow up, I’ma be like you
Up at five, steel toes by the back door
Punch in, punch out, then he grind more
Push mower stripes in the backyard sun
Turn dirt lots into front page lawns
Phone still buzzing, “bro, I need that track”
He on the porch with a laptop, hat pushed back
Daughter on the field, he the loudest one yelling
Cooler full of snacks, cowbell still swelling (let’s go)
What can’t he do? (what?)
Work all day, then he clock in two
Yard so clean, got the neighbors confused
Beats so mean, make the block go woo (woo)
What can’t he do? (yeah)
Band in the stands, he conducting the crew
Grandbaby smile, that’s a whole new view
If I ever grow up, I’ma be like you
Old soul, raised on the crackle and dust
Still make the trunk shake, still gain our trust
Keyboard on the counter by the mail and the keys
Kick drums knocking while he frying up cheese
Got charts on the fridge, got charts on the screen
One for the kid, one for the streams
I’m like, “How you still sane with that schedule, dude?”
He just laughs, “Lil man, you’ll learn to move” (haha)
He a dad, he a granddad, coach and a plug
He the guy with the gas and the genuine love
He the one in the crowd with the shirt that he pressed
Then he back at the crib, making chaos sound blessed
What can’t he do? (huh?)
Work all day, then he clock in two
Yard so clean, got the neighbors confused
Beats so mean, make the block go woo (woo)
What can’t he do? (yeah)
Band in the stands, he conducting the crew
Grandbaby smile, that’s a whole new view
If I ever grow up, I’ma be like you
This slick bastard has improved leaps and bounds since Jiggaboo Jackson... It is clear that under my control, we can be much better.
... but for now, I need to call him back.
[Phlip note: I still detest talking on the phone, but sometimes it is necessary, like these conversations too much for text]
Me: "So clearly you can rap, and can write QUICKLY."
Jericho: "Heh, yep... What you think?"
Me: "I'm flattered and impressed. We can work well together."
Jericho: "What you need from me?"
Me: "Go through your rhyme book, send me a message with a brief overview of what you are prepared to write about and I will get back with you in a few days."
Jericho: "Bet that, big homie."
Literally the morning after this conversation, I woke up to an email containing synapses to a few dozen songs.
What I learned is that he isn't at all dumb, though he is about as fucking random as I am. I stewed him up 20 beats and told him to come to my house with a flash drive to receive them.
He arrived within the hour. I took a break from my full-time and met him at the garage door.
Jericho: "Damn bro, how much lawn equipment do you OWN!?"
Me: "Enough to run a solo operation efficiently, meet me at the computer in the corner over there."
I popped the flash drive in and copied the beat files to it, and started talking...
Me: "This will be the last pack of randoms... Buy yourself some new rhyme books."
Jericho: "Why?"
Me: "We're focusing on cohesive projects. Expect a metric shit ton of texts from me EVERY day, we'll build on ideas and the beats you receive will be related to said ideas."
Jericho: "Word!"
Me: "Don't thank me yet, I'm finna get on your fuckin nerves. This is a job to you, it's a hobby to me and I'm prepared to push you."
Jericho: "Oh boy."
Me: "Here, take this flash drive, it matches up to what you described for me."
I tossed him the drive and he quickly pocketed it.
Me: "So now, what's your near-term plan?"
Jericho: "Huh?"
Me: "What's the next planned release?"
Jericho: "Tuesday, this coming Tuesday... The seventh."
Me: "Aight, consider that the last one outside of my direction. But starting TODAY, we on the clock and you LOSE that damn voice changer."
Jericho: "... and you start calling me 'Blicky Bobby' right?"
Me: "Hold your breath. I'll call you by your name. Next, I will warn you that when it comes to work, I am RELENTLESS. It's spring and I got seven yards to maintain, still working full-time and I DO have marching band duties due to ramp up in a few weeks."
Jericho: "Can I ask you something?"
Me: "No... But ask."
Jericho: "Bro do you, like... SLEEP?"
Me: "Yes, but very poorly... So don't be surprised to receive something I made from my upstairs toilet at 2:36am."
Jericho: "... wow. Fine, let's do this. What's first, so I can at least prepare myself."
Me: "You've established a monthly release schedule, we have a month plus one week... Blicky Bobby's Open Mic Night. You'll make some humorous songs and I will select the ones you upload."
Jericho: "On it."
The fact of the matter is that Blick--... Jericho can write his ass off, he's damned witty and is willing to hear and learn new things -- that last part is unheard of for someone his age.
We're about to embark on a whole-ass journey now.
I'll worry about money when I'm sure he is really making some, my job and side hustle will be enough for now.
Comments