Guest Blogger: DJ Premier is my Chuck Norris (by The Humanity Critic)

[Editor’s Note: In light of the unfortunate passing of my man Guru (pictured on the right next to DJ Premier) from the legendary Hip Hop group Gang Starr. I thought it important to showcase just how much of an impact their music has made in urban youth culture. To do so I’ve enlisted my man The Humanity Critic (@HumanityCritic on Twitter) free lance writer and contributor to the now defunct Vibe Magazine, of the blog The Nappy Diatribe. For me, DJ Premier & Guru, together as Gang Starr, left an indelible mark on the man that I am today through their music. The question I have now for Hip Hop is ‘Who’s Gonna Take The Weight’…?]

This is going to sound shallow, but it won’t surprise the people out there who know me that I feverishly keep my snob game tighter than convent vagina. But there are some things in life that I simply believe transcend opinion and simply become fact, and anyone in the slightest opposition of that is either acting like a wiseacre contrarian or happened to born with a mild case of retardation due to being the offspring of forbidden sibling ‘love‘. You don’t necessarily have to believe that Michael Jordan was the best basketball player ever to touch a leather ball, but his ‘philandering, historical failure to ever take a stand on anything’ ass better be in the discussion. Same thing with Walter Payton when it comes to running backs, I actually elbowed a guy in the face once just because he gave me a very indifferent sounding ‘Ahh, he’s alright’ retort when talking about the great Stevie Wonder. That explains why ‘High Fidelity‘ is one my favorite flicks, primarily because I subscribe to the philosophy in the movie that ‘Its not what you’re like, its what you like’ – this is going to sound fucked up I know, but I can tell whether or not I’m going to get along with a person solely based on their tastes in music and movies.

But therein lies the rub, what’s a chubby snob like myself to do when a woman I’m seeing, one who I feel is otherwise flawless – takes it upon herself to very cavalierly sully the good name of a man who I hold so near and dear to my heart? Let me explain. About a month ago, while ruining my liver amongst a slew of career alcoholics and women who look like they grew up next to nuclear reactors at my local watering hole – a very beautiful woman waked in, sat down, and sparked off a conversation with me on the strength of my ring-tone being Big Daddy Kane’s ‘Raw’. Immediately I knew she was a Hip Hop fan, ‘check’. I asked what her nationality was and she said she was Portuguese, she was what I imagined the woman in Rakim’s ‘Mahogany’ looked like, so ‘check’ like a motherfucker. Granted, she was younger than I would have liked, but I quickly counted on my fingers like a retard doing long division and figured out that she’s been legally drinking for 6 years, not too bad.(Besides, I haven’t been lustfully touched since the first episode of ‘My Name is Earl’ – I had to relax my usually stringent age requirements this time)

We hung out a few times, nothing special, she seemed like a very sweet girl who really knew her Hip Hop – which meant the world to me. I mean, even before she saw my man boobs or counted my ceiling tiles for three minute intervals we had already started having these inside jokes where we would readily admit to not really liking an artist that everyone loves. One day she called me and said, ‘I was never was a fan of the Beastie Boys, don’t tell anybody!’ – which I quickly retorted, ‘I won’t, if you don’t tell anyone that I’m probably the most pedestrian Wu-Tang fan this side of the equator.’ – in which she responded, ‘..and you call yourself a Hip Hip writer, hang your head in shame fat man!!!’ We were doing this back and forth for a while, it was pretty cathartic to admit which legendary groups we were indifferent about, it was akin to being in confessional and admitting that you had lustful thoughts about a nun. Yes, it was fucked up, but you felt a million times better afterwords. All was well until we were making out on my couch one night, me sticking my tongue down her throat while giving her an unlicensed breast exam – when she whispered some words in my ear that has haunted me ever since: ‘Honestly, I never understood the hype around DJ Premier!’. Now I know why I’m such a fan of ‘Curb Your Enthusiasm’. When Larry was given permission by his wife to sleep with another woman for an Anniversary gift, he slithered off the miscellaneous dalliance with disgust when he learned that she was a republican. I slithered off the woman 7 years my junior the exact same way.

As I sat on the couch, I must have been shooting her the most horrified look imaginable because all she could say was ‘Oh shit’ – in which I replied, ‘What are you, fucking nuts? DJ Premier is the best producer ever, please tell me that you are joking! (Grabbing one of her supple breasts) Please tell me that you are joking!” With still an erect, albeit unimpressive penis still making a tent in my pants, I nervously gathered every record, tape, CD, and Ipod song featuring a DJ Premier production and played each track for her with painstaking patience. After every cut I’d desperately plead with her ‘Would you like to retract that statement?’ Since questioning someones sanity is the furthest thing from an afrodisiac, she grabbed her things and said ‘I’m going home, call me tomorrow!’ – seeing her leave half naked, finally understanding that I’ve talked myself out of some panties once again I belted out a rather insincere ‘Come on baby, I was just playing!!’ Of course I wasn’t.

The next evening, as I got drunk with my best friend Danny and complained about having to possibly abandon another relationship – I made her innocent opinion seem as if she had told me that she once had a cock, or was a republican. That’s when I unloaded the following diatribe on my childhood friend:

‘Listen, if she was a Lil Boosie fan that would have been easier, she’d have to play that shit on her own time and I would never address that pink elephant in the room like it was a brief stint of lesbianism she participated in while she was in college. But Premier, I mean, as far as producers go, when you go through the multitude of classic singles that the man has done for people you still have to negotiate the Mt. St. Helens of legendary material that is the Gangstarr catalog! Besides, not only have I come to the conclusion that DJ Premier can save anyone’s career, it has always struck me as odd that more MC’s don’t make the simple choice and only use Preemo production for their albums. Instead they pick music makers of lesser skill and the product is sub-par at best. Imagine how better Nas albums would be if he simply got Premier to do the beats, shit man, there are a shitload of artists ranging from Lauryn Hill to Killer Mike who’d thrive under Premo. The man can do anything!!(Looking at my friend seriously) Anything!

Danny: So, DJ Premier is your Chuck Norris?

HumanityCritic: Yeah, I guess so..

Reasons why DJ Premier will kick Chuck Norris’ ass:

1. DJ Premier doesn’t produce tracks, he works miracles.

2. Cancer gets yearly mammograms for early DJ Premier detection.

3. Some say that music calms the savage beast, premier’s production peacefully euthanizes ornery animals.

4. To say that Premo’s beats are heaven sent is a bit of reckless hyperbole, even though God himself occasionally sends him break-beat records and sample ideas.

5. My mother has always said ‘If she can’t use your comb, don’t bring her home’ in terms of me ever marrying a white girl – but her 30 year stance dramatically changed after I introduced her to a Caucasian Premier fan named Becky.

6. Our government’s ‘War on Terror’ is a joke, not because its unwinnable, but because attacks on our blessed soil would stop if we simply made ‘Full Clip’ our National Anthem.

7. After meeting DJ Premiere, Quincy Jones could be heard saying ‘I’m never washing this hand again’ amongst a string of prepubescent-sounding giggles.

8. Stevie Wonder claimed that DJ Premier was the sole inspiration for his 1963 hit ‘Fingertips’ – even though Premo wouldn’t be born for another 3 years.

9. When a paraplegic suddenly started to rhythmically nod his head back and forth during a rehabilitation session, doctors thought they were witnessing a minor miracle – until one of them heard ‘Mathematics’ playing in the distance and said ‘Goddamn you Premier!!’

10. Sure, Chuck D was upset that his voice was sampled in the song ’10 Crack Commandments’, not only because the song talked about cooked cocaine – but because he was privately ashamed that the beat, momentarily, had him seeing the upside to dope dealing.

11. DJ Premier is so good at picking samples, sometimes he uses them before the original artist has even recorded it.

12. In an attempt to rehabilitate young delinquents and keep them out of Prison, simply playing Gangstarr’s ‘All for the Cash’ was an effective deterrent – but they went back to their less abrasive approach, having the kids being yelled at and physically intimidated by mass murderers.

13. DJ Premier doesn’t have to manually scratch records anymore, all he does is stand over both turntables and the records miraculously scratch themselves – I mean, tremble with fear.

14. I recently emailed Premier the sheet music to Rachmaninoff’s 3rd Piano Concerto, not only did he send it back with corrections – there was a posted note attached with ‘Yawn’ being the only word on it.

15. Sure, Jesus turned water into wine – but could his black-hippie ass turn ‘Group Home’ into a listenable group? I didn’t think so..

16. The music of Premier is so powerful that I still yell things like ‘Put your fucking hands in the air’ and ‘Run Your shit’ while having sex – that’s the price you pay when you lose your virginity to ‘Just to Get a Rep‘.

17. DJ Premier is so beloved in Japan, that 90% of the women there want to have his baby – not to milk him of his hard earned funds mind you, just to say that they have a Premo Remix.

18. DJ Premier scored a Tyler Perry movie and it was still unwatchable – the man is a producer, not GOD!

Checkout this Gang Starr classic – ‘You Know My Steez’