Old Times and New Times
Serge and U-neek talk about the past and future of Bombass.
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Nulla facilisi. Nullam vestibulum condimentum turpis, et semper magna laoreet at. Fusce pulvinar, neque non rutrum accumsan, mi sapien vulputate orci, vel sollicitudin neque lorem non lectus. Nullam justo est, tincidunt in suscipit sit amet, mollis at justo.
A boy of no more than 14 years walks nervously into the fluorescent glow of Bombass Muzik. It's after dark in South Los Angeles; the record store is one of the few bright spots on the block, the only other light coming from a "Liquidation Store" next door. He walks up to the counter and asks Serge Ureta, the store's owner, what he can do with some tracks he's put together.
"It's not like a real mixtape, just some stuff," the kid says.
"Bring it in! We'll play it!" Serge exclaims. "That's what we're looking for, that drive, that motivation," he says.
And he will play it. Serge is in the process of launching a record label, and has his eyes and ears wide open for new talent.
"M-C's gotta work five times as hard now," chimes in Grammy-winning, platinum-album-earning DJ U-Neek, producer of Bone Thugs N' Harmony, a regular at the store and Serge's partner in his record label venture.
Serge is a veteran in the LA hip-hop scene, he grew up as a breakdancer and M-C in South LA. He's run his record store for 14 years, the lone bulwark against the collapse of the independent record industry in South L-A. He DJ's actively in the area and has a keen ear for talent. But the talent in Los Angeles has been scattered of late.
It seems that hip-hop in LA is experiencing something of a rebirth. The sounds of the Dirty South have dominated radio airplay in recent years, popular themes have shifted. Popular rap's focus on gang life and street life has moved on to party life, leaving a vacuum in the rap-cultural space once occupied by L-A heroes NWA and Ice-T. Now, parents who grew up with these voices are passing them on to the next generation, which is struggling to reconcile these sounds of the past with the climate of the present.
Serge is in the middle of the tumult, listening to it happen, following closely. When asked about the rising young voices of South LA, he launches into a litany of names, most of which are nowhere near the radio right now. Tyga. Y-G. G-Malone. K-Boy. But he also names some shining stars, near-ubiquitous names like the New Boyz (godfathers of the "Jerking" movement) and skate-rap censor-bating critical darling Tyler, the Creator.
"The community evolved around hip-hop. It's more than just music, it's a culture," Serge says. "Things were bad in the 90's with the gangster rap, but they're not all better. These kids still have stories to tell."
His job now is to help them tell their stories. He is rounding up artists, networking with radio stations, DJs, studio owners. He's looking for radio play for the voices of the community, living and breathing LA hip-hop as it emerges.
We talk for a while, about Dr. Dre and Easy E, about the direction of music and the analog-digital debate. We talk about his record store, which is full almost to bursting with racks of CDs, tapes, and vinyl. It's also stocked with XXL t-shirts in white, black, blue, staples of the neighborhood's style. He's beginning to focus more on the apparel aspect of his business, which is currently propping up his flagging record sales. He is versatile, flexible, holding onto the music while making sure he stays afloat.
"Excuse me, I've got to go... finish what I was working on," Serge says after about an hour, and disappears into the back of the shop. He is followed soon after by the whirring of a circular saw. I'm curious, though not surprised, that this titan of Los Angeles hip-hop also happens to be handy with a band-saw. I ask Maribel, Serge's only employee, where he went. She smiles. She tells me she runs an after-school tutoring center out of the building next door, and that Serge, who provides more than half of the funding, was helping her renovate the space. She tells me the nearest Boys and Girls Club is on Vermont, out of walking distance of many of the neighborhood's schoolchildren. She tells me that they had been incredibly successful with the students that had come in, that they had turned underachievers into students-of-the-month.
Again, I was not surprised. The community is a huge part of Serge, it stands to reason that he would work so hard to keep it on its feet.
Bombass Muzik is open from 10:00-8:30, M-F, 10:00-7:00 Sat, and 10:00-5:30 Sunday. They stream live daily from noon to 4:00pm on http://stickam.com/bombassmuzik.