FAM MART: All I wanted was a mixtape Link to Article
Took a couple trips to Fam Mart recently, 'cause all this waiting around for local CDs to arrive in your mailbox is lazy and rarely produces gems, so the off-the-94 indoor swap meet had to be a spot, right, that raid happened a while back, so -- DJ Drama's troubles notwithstanding -- shouldn't it be back to business as usual?
Two midweek daytime visits came up with not much and a dead parking lot. A kid on a bike sat on the pay phone outside on one trip, but if he had bootlegs in his bookbag, I failed to contribute to any (gasp) juvenile delinquency. Or he found me suspicious, whatever.
OK, so the sign reads San Diego Marketplace now, but it's still the place to find hip hop fashion, print hoodies and bold T's and brims and sneakers you won't find at Fashion Valley, even if they were missing a certain size of Ice Creams.
But there's barely any music being sold inside. And the prices they were boasting for like local street stuff was a little high if you're used to five bucks. Or my bartering skills were off, whatever. Picked up a couple things anyway.
Lil B-Stone's "Street Essentials" and Big June's "Flamed Up" (buy both online!) came home with me, and if you couldn't tell from the titles, they're both pretty standard West Coast gangsta rap, which sounds about right for Southeast San Diego's reputation (Southeast has its own urban dictionary entry in addition to Wikipedia, if that means anything). They're both also pretty good.
That classic West Coast drivin'-round set-throwin' smoke-blowin' rap, when it's done well, just doesn't seem to get old, at least to some, and there are reasons for that -- though of course it's also one of those intersects that pits fans and critics against fans and critics.
Hip hop still gets blasted on all sides: don't rap that negative gangster stuff, don't celebrate the money getting made that's buying you out of that gangster stuff, don't rap about growing up it's boring, don't rap philosophizing it's patronizing, etc. There's a reason why, when this approach began, that so many people responded and listened to such strong verbiage against authority, and it wasn't 'cause they all lived in Compton or were peeved over a parking ticket.
If you triumph hip hop as calling attention to the blunt reality of people's lives, you obviously can't ignore the glorification of violence or what have you -- though some still find a way to turn that around, simplify to vilify -- nor can you ignore the capitalized voyeurism, as white-owned record companies churn out black cariacatures to white surbanites.
But San Diego, I don't know, it really feels like there are parts of the city, huge parts, that are regularly ignored (yeah, by, like, the media), wide swaths of homes less safe to live in maybe than a couple near a landslide. Not just because of gunshots, though that would be the impression, why you don't go there.
Even the phrase "Southeast" is no longer uttered in office by our government. But, if you listen, it's still a term of strength and pride for some. (Sound familiar?) These guys (and others) don't sound like they're striking a pose for radio play.
So as with most record stores, it's all to the Web now, which is great for finding that out-of-town stuff, but in your back yard? The artist loses because you're obviously not paying, plus it has a strange effect maybe of further isolating an area that maybe doesn't get visited by outsiders much anyway, lazier access to music means increased voyeurism -- not that gangsta rap fans visited the hood for their tunes before, but still.
I'm probably looking in the wrong places and I don't listen to radio, but why do I only hear about, say, Dago Braves (also not bad) because they're booked to open Young Jeezy's bound-to-be-canceled $40 House of Blues gig? Did I just answer my own question?
Fam Mart does the whole parking lot pimpin' thing on weekends, right, CDs sold outta trunks and stuff? But can you show up in a hooptie? Gaslamp clubs cannot be it. Where else does one go?
Took a couple trips to Fam Mart recently, 'cause all this waiting around for local CDs to arrive in your mailbox is lazy and rarely produces gems, so the off-the-94 indoor swap meet had to be a spot, right, that raid happened a while back, so -- DJ Drama's troubles notwithstanding -- shouldn't it be back to business as usual?
Two midweek daytime visits came up with not much and a dead parking lot. A kid on a bike sat on the pay phone outside on one trip, but if he had bootlegs in his bookbag, I failed to contribute to any (gasp) juvenile delinquency. Or he found me suspicious, whatever.
OK, so the sign reads San Diego Marketplace now, but it's still the place to find hip hop fashion, print hoodies and bold T's and brims and sneakers you won't find at Fashion Valley, even if they were missing a certain size of Ice Creams.
But there's barely any music being sold inside. And the prices they were boasting for like local street stuff was a little high if you're used to five bucks. Or my bartering skills were off, whatever. Picked up a couple things anyway.
Lil B-Stone's "Street Essentials" and Big June's "Flamed Up" (buy both online!) came home with me, and if you couldn't tell from the titles, they're both pretty standard West Coast gangsta rap, which sounds about right for Southeast San Diego's reputation (Southeast has its own urban dictionary entry in addition to Wikipedia, if that means anything). They're both also pretty good.
That classic West Coast drivin'-round set-throwin' smoke-blowin' rap, when it's done well, just doesn't seem to get old, at least to some, and there are reasons for that -- though of course it's also one of those intersects that pits fans and critics against fans and critics.
Hip hop still gets blasted on all sides: don't rap that negative gangster stuff, don't celebrate the money getting made that's buying you out of that gangster stuff, don't rap about growing up it's boring, don't rap philosophizing it's patronizing, etc. There's a reason why, when this approach began, that so many people responded and listened to such strong verbiage against authority, and it wasn't 'cause they all lived in Compton or were peeved over a parking ticket.
If you triumph hip hop as calling attention to the blunt reality of people's lives, you obviously can't ignore the glorification of violence or what have you -- though some still find a way to turn that around, simplify to vilify -- nor can you ignore the capitalized voyeurism, as white-owned record companies churn out black cariacatures to white surbanites.
But San Diego, I don't know, it really feels like there are parts of the city, huge parts, that are regularly ignored (yeah, by, like, the media), wide swaths of homes less safe to live in maybe than a couple near a landslide. Not just because of gunshots, though that would be the impression, why you don't go there.
Even the phrase "Southeast" is no longer uttered in office by our government. But, if you listen, it's still a term of strength and pride for some. (Sound familiar?) These guys (and others) don't sound like they're striking a pose for radio play.
So as with most record stores, it's all to the Web now, which is great for finding that out-of-town stuff, but in your back yard? The artist loses because you're obviously not paying, plus it has a strange effect maybe of further isolating an area that maybe doesn't get visited by outsiders much anyway, lazier access to music means increased voyeurism -- not that gangsta rap fans visited the hood for their tunes before, but still.
I'm probably looking in the wrong places and I don't listen to radio, but why do I only hear about, say, Dago Braves (also not bad) because they're booked to open Young Jeezy's bound-to-be-canceled $40 House of Blues gig? Did I just answer my own question?
Fam Mart does the whole parking lot pimpin' thing on weekends, right, CDs sold outta trunks and stuff? But can you show up in a hooptie? Gaslamp clubs cannot be it. Where else does one go?
