Sidran Can't Dance!

City Attorney Mark Sidran can't dance. His ineptitude at getting down must fuel his vengeance for shutting down club--if his uptight booty can't shake than neither will yours. With assistance from the Liquor Board, the Fire Department, and the Seattle Police, Sidran creates difficulties for clubs or certain dance nights to continue or even get a license at the start. His aim is discriminating--most often he targets clubs that play hip hop or attract a large African-American audience. Other players join this officious crew in silencing the diversity and potency of hip hop, ranging from unadventurous (or scared) promoters and club owners to banal program directors at KUBE radio. However, two area hip hop record labels are combating this assault and translating urban life into beats for anxious ears.

"Insurance laws are tough and make it extremely difficult for any type of black music," says Strath, one-third of the force behind Conception Records. The hurdles are raised for hip hop clubs, persuading "owners to say `we will never do any type of rap show,'" Strath adds. Also, there is very little industry to support hip hop in Seattle, often still viewed as Grungetown U.S.A.

Commercial radio is of no assistance. "If radio played more of a mixture of underground and overground, people would hear good music and buy it," explains Sureshot, who started Conception with producer Mr. Supreme in 1994. Instead, KUBE sits alone in the urban radio market and touches nothing that is not already a major hit or a guaranteed star artist. "Everyone involved has to do their own thing to create an industry [in Seattle]," says Mr. Supreme. And Conception is doing its part.

Rather than releasing a demo and searching for a label with their first project the Sharpshooters, Mr. Supreme and Sureshot created their own label. They covered every base--ghetto style: recording, art design, photography, promotions, etc. The first printing sold out. For funding, they dug deep into their vinyl collections and sold rare LPs at record conventions. Along with Strath, they began a weekly DJ event called The Foundation at the Art Bar that has matured into Seattle's longest running hip hop night (strangely untouched by Sidran's claw).

Work at Conception became full time for the trio; to expand their market, they signed a packaging and distribution deal last year with Sub Pop, which is owned by Warner. "There is no way we could be doing this without [Sub Pop]," Sureshot says. "It'd be a lot slower." Now Conception can put out records more consistently and gets funding for pressing vinyl and promotions. Does this mean Warner can dictate what is acceptable hip hop? "We're a spec on the bottom of a Gucci loafer," Strath consoles, "they haven't disturbed us."

Warner is no fool, however; hip hop is big money. Every major label wants to swallow a small hip hop label. One that is closer to the streets and will perhaps break a hot new act that the major can then hype and reap hefty profits. This machine in turn dilutes the potency of hip hop and turns out drivel like Master P and Puff Daddy. Mainstream hip hop is watered-down posturing for the masses. Some of the beats are decent, but many of the rhymes are predictable, misogynist, violent, or aimless. Damisi Velasquez, head of Tribal Music, another local independent hip hop label, describes the smash hip hop single formula: "the artist takes the #1 song from the '70s and makes it the #1 song in the '90s." Puffy's blatant, uncreative sampling is stark evidence. "There is no edge to mainstream hip hop," says Sureshot. Consequently, independent hip hop is huge right now with parched ears thirsty for more depth.

"Hip hop was created by black youth in the inner city who for so long had been looked down upon," explains Velasquez. "Hip hop is our answer to that corporate racist thing that America got going on," he adds. It gives black youth a reason to stick their chest out, he says. The unique strength of hip hop is that this positivity flows to other communities and you have Mexican, Filipino, and Irish kids suddenly taking pride in themselves. Just as a hip hop DJ grabs a sample, flips it, and makes it his own, young heads are seeking the energy of underground hip hop and rearranging it to make meaning for themselves.

Tribal Music produces a consistent style: mellow, jazz-influenced hip hop with conceptual rhymes. "We live and die on rap," stresses Velasquez. He hopes to release full length records by artists Sensimilla and the Ghetto Children in the near future. Conception Records has just dropped Walkman Rotation, a seamless compilation of many skilled artists, featuring Kutfather and Fourfifths. They have also branched out into other genres, including dub and ska. Many of these groups represent Seattle, but both labels are looking nationwide both for talent and for sales. "We're proud of where we're from," says Velasquez, "but we don't want to depend on it." Seattle simply has a small hip hop scene. Mark Sidran's crusade to silence clubs (for example, Pier 70) doesn't help. Until he is inspired to start poppin' and lockin', independent labels have another challenging hurdle to clear. Both Conception and Tribal admit that they are not seasoned businessmen. "We're music lovers and hip hoppers and we'll probably be underground all our lives," quips Sureshot. However, their dedication to the music that moves them and the success they've had so far has broken solid ground for motivated, do-it-yourself hip hop fanatics to follow. --Charlie McAteer