“Awwwwwwwwww SH–!” the wide eyed lyricist exclaims, “There’s nothin’ like bein’ in a pro studio! I’ve always wanted to spit into one of those circle things!” As he points to the pop filter covering the large diaphragm studio condenser, Dean and I share a look and a smile. The excitement is palpable.
And so, freshly printed rhymes in hand, entourage in tow, the aspiring rapper Mr. Mike G. (formerly known as Killa Mike) makes his entrance into the coveted live room: that place of magic and mystery separating recorded artists from all the rest.And he is bringing his A Game.
“I’m feelin’ this… feel good, like, driving to check out some girls… chillin’ with your friends in the sunshine with the tunes bumpin and the top down… summer time – you know?”We knew Mr. G. Oh how we knew.
There is a language spoken amongst musicians not unlike a code, a formulaic equation of fractions and theory; meter and tone. A discourse on harmony and chord and of rhythm. We translated the wishes of our guest into this cipher and the rest took care of itself. Did we tune into the same station he had playing in the recesses of his imagination? Who can tell for certain, but in the end – after a handful of hours with our fists full of beer – a track had been bestowed upon us.Now it was time for Mike G. to spit his truth.
Two takes, few edits, and some moderate use of instrumental breakdown crafted his flow – and despite his remarks of not “needin’ a f–kin band” we were happy to provide our instrumental support.After all, it takes a team to rock a summertime dream.
by Unsui, February 24th, 2011