1968 Conqueror of American Rock - Chapter 179



Only Noblemtl

179. Again, Summer of ’69 (3)

Jerry Durst is a boy who dreams of becoming a rapper while living with his mother in the outskirts of New York. Although the genre of rap itself had not yet appeared in the music market, it was common to see black people gathering in the back alleys of clubs or in Harlem and enjoying their own parties.

I had been listening to black people’s music from afar and naturally fell in love with their music. However, as a white person, I had no way to become close to them. Harlem was a place where I could easily disappear without a sound if I made a mistake.

I dressed as similarly as possible to them, covered my face, and wandered the streets, imitating the accents, pronunciations, and raps of black people as best I could. I wrote my own lyrics every day like a diary, thinking that I would show them someday and be recognized by them.

Jerry delivered newspapers on his bike every morning. Time flew by as he rapped about the articles in the newspaper. This was the reason why Jerry’s raps were so different from those of black people.

There were many black people who rapped who were gangsters. Their lyrics were mostly rough lyrics full of swear words, and the lyrics Jerry wrote naturally had a strong feeling of opinion in newspaper articles. They covered topics such as social injustice, human rights issues, and anti-war.

Not only the lyrics, but also the style of rapping had to be different. The original rhythm that black people possessed was not something that white people could easily imitate by following it. Jerry began to develop his own weapon, a rough and rapid-fire rap.

Then one day, Jerry spots a hippie-dressed man walking around Harlem in New York without any fear. He thinks that this guy could be really dangerous after dark. So he takes him out of Harlem with him.

“My name is Michael Lang, the planner for Metropolis.”

“I am MLK.”

A boy who likes rap, but can’t fit in with black people. A producer who was looking for a white rapper who would rap to rock music.

That’s how the relationship between Jerry and Michael Lang began.

* * *

Michael was shocked when he heard Jerry’s rap, which was different from that of black people. After that, he took Jerry to the rock clubs in the East and quickly recruited members. They didn’t need technicians like Jimmy Page, Ritchie Blackmore, or James Choi. All they needed was an explosive rhythm to support the powerful rap.

Michael didn’t just look at their playing skills. He interviewed them about their beliefs and ideologies about music. He selected members who had similar tendencies to the lyrics Jerry wrote.

The name of the band formed in this way was Killing Machine.

The band members and Jerry spent several nights arranging the raps that he had already written.

“Michael, do you really think this kind of music will work?”

Jerry honestly wondered if this was right. Rap ​​in a rock band’s music? He thought it was ridiculous. But this guy was the big shot who planned the Woodstock festival. Actually, he didn’t know much about hippies or rock, but he knew from reading the newspaper how great a music festival Woodstock was.

“Of course. It’s more than I thought. It’s experimental music, and it might be hard for conservative Americans to accept it yet. So for now, I’m going to send a ensemble tape to pirate radio in the UK.”

“Pirate······Radio?”

“Yes. It’s the music radio station that more than half of the British people listen to every day. Next month, the second Filton Festival will be held in England. You don’t have an album yet and only have one ensemble, so pirate radio is the only way to get a ticket to the festival.”

Jerry had dozens of rap lyrics already written. It was only a matter of time before he could pick out the good ones and make a band version. Michael wanted to experiment with how much the most monstrous music the world had ever seen could shake up an audience.

“There was a band called London Smog. It was just a band of friends from the slums of London. Of course, they didn’t have an album. But they became huge stars in England with one tape of their ensemble sent to pirate radio, and they even made it to America. Of course, they were a failure in the American market. But you guys combined black music and white music. It was a world first.”

Michael had always secretly envied James Choi’s songs that contained social messages. He thought that the reason he had such a huge fandom and media attention was because of the power of his lyrics. Jerry, though still a young boy, had that kind of ability.

The rap name MLK was a rap name that Jerry created to mourn the death of Reverend Martin Luther King, whom he had always admired. He thought it would be enough to raise social issues and receive the spotlight of the media.

* * *

– Break it down! Kill’em all!

(Tear them down! Kill them all!)

– We are revolutionaries!

(We are revolutionaries!)

This is······ The sound is a bit lacking, but the musical form is a groovy rock sound with roaring rap. It is clearly the hardcore of the future. Who on earth attempted this······.

“Wow, this is truly music that has never been heard before. It doesn’t really have any melody, but it just hums and sings and then explodes like crazy in the chorus!”

“But aren’t these lyrics too provocative?”

“It feels so refreshing, haha!”

“It just sounds a bit weird to me······.”

“Wow, I can’t help but jump into this. This is truly a revolution in rock music!”

The DJs’ reviews were polar opposites, and Director Curtis Zimmerman had his arms crossed and an inscrutable expression.

I ran straight down to the studio where Harold was broadcasting.

It’s clear that something strange is happening. Is it because I changed history?

Who would have thought hardcore would appear this quickly?

That’s ridiculous.

Inside the studio window, Harold was jumping around and headbanging to the music. When he saw me outside, he made the Devil’s Mark with his index and little fingers. He looked very excited.

Who? Which band tried hardcore?

I was dying of curiosity.

Harold motioned for me to come in. It seemed like the commercial was on.

“Hey, James! How long has it been! Hahaha!”

He hugged me tightly. I could smell alcohol and feel the heat from his body.

“Harold, who was that guy playing that song just now?

“James heard it too! It’s killing me, right? It’s a band called Killing Machine. We must be pretty famous, to send a tape all the way from New York, hahaha!”

Is this New York?

“Can you tell me who the sender is?”

Harold went through his mail, found a box, and showed it to me.

Michael Lang······!

If you’re talking about the Michael Lang of New York, then that’s the Michael Lang I know. Michael’s the one who started the hardcore band?

Harold continued his broadcast, and I went outside to think carefully.

I created a guitar sound that was ahead of its time, I changed the course of Woodstock, I introduced the booster pedal to the world, I helped launch several bands early, and I helped Michael Jackson go solo early.

It’s not that I didn’t think everything would come a little bit earlier. But I didn’t think Hardcore would come out this soon. And Michael Lang······.

The reason I think this way is not because the music of the band Killing Machine is strange, nor because I envy them for starting hardcore first. I don’t really like rap metal, and I don’t plan on doing it in the future.

It was just because of the miserable memories of the future that I remembered. Please, something like that shouldn’t happen······.

“James, why do you look like that? Is there something wrong with this music?”

I looked to the side and saw Director Curtis there.

“Oh, no. It’s just that the music is a bit newer.”

“It’s really unique. The song doesn’t really have much melody, it’s more like mumbling, but it’s also sharp and seems angry.”

“It seems like a combination of rock music and the rap that black people do in the New York area. But the singer in this song is definitely white, not black.”

Killing Machine’s vocals use screaming and growling techniques. They can never be black.

“As expected, you can tell just by listening to James. But, what can I say, the music seems too angry. Maybe it’s because I’m an old person, but I feel uneasy when I listen to it. But it’s an explosive reaction to young DJs, haha.”

I kept having an ominous feeling, but I decided not to imagine something that hadn’t even happened yet.

At Woodstock, more than a thousand people stayed to help clean up, and there were no murders at the Altamont concert.

Yes, the history I knew can change. Let’s not think bad thoughts. Let’s think positive thoughts.

* * *

London Smog and I each finished our three-day schedule and gathered back at the hotel. Looking at each other’s faces, it seemed like everyone had a good time.

“Brother James, look at this. Isn’t my sister really pretty?”

Thomas showed me a family photo. It was the first photo taken of them together since his younger sister Charlotte was seven. The family looked happy and smiling in the photo.

“Yeah, you’re really pretty. You’ll be a little tired when you go back to school because you’ll be so popular, haha.”

Joseph boasted that he was treated like a popular star at the orphanage.

“Jakub, is something wrong with you?”

“······No, that’s not possible.”

“You guys are about to start your tour. If there’s anything bothering you, it’s better to let it go before you start.”

“Actually, it’s nothing special. My parents are healthy, and since it’s been a while since I’ve been here, they cooked expensive meals for me that I usually can’t eat. I had a great time.”

“But why······.”

“That’s… Thanks to my brother, I went to America and lived in a nice house, ate good food every day, and only saw good things… But when I went back to my old neighborhood after a long time, I felt bad. My parents still live there.”

I patted the boy’s head without saying a word. The boy was already an adult.

“Hyung, you don’t have to worry too much. I’ll work hard on the tour this year and make sure to move my parents to a nice neighborhood, haha.”

You little punk, you even know how to force a smile.

“Yes, definitely. And I’ll be with you until the Pilton Festival, and I won’t be around after that. Can you handle it?”

“Of course. We’re not kids anymore.”

“that’s right!”

Joseph, who was always the first to agree with Jacqui, still seemed like the youngest.

“Brother James, is there any opening in mid-August on your tour calendar?”

Thomas asked, checking the schedule.

“Oh, I reserved my schedule in advance because there might be a time when you guys have to come to the US for a while.”

“Oh yeah, is it summer vacation?”

As Joseph smiled brightly, Jakub gave him a hint.

“Haha, this might be more fun than a summer vacation.”