Essentially for the future of Public Enemy, Spectrum City’s show on WBAU allowed them a glimpse of how the business side of hip-hop was developing. Their close proximity to Queens also proved to be important when it came to their relationship with Run DMC, a group which achieved so many firsts for hip-hop. The late, and immeasurably great, Jam Master Jay in particular would prove to be crucial in the PE story.
It was Bill Stephney who hooked everyone up. He had a connection with Russell ‘Rush’ Simmons, who was the group’s manager, Run’s brother and head of Rush Communications. As well as recalling the nickname Russell had had for a number of years, Rush Communications was a budding conglomerate. Simmons, who had already been involved in the careers of early rap stars such as Kurtis Blow, was well on his way to becoming hip-hop’s first mogul.
Bill Stephney had the honour of conducting Run DMC’s first ever radio interview, and this gave him an insight into how Russell, Run DMC and Jay were doing what they did. About four weeks after the Spectrum crew received what is rumoured to be the first ever copy of Run DMC’s breakthrough hit ‘Sucker MCs’ a very young Run, DMC and Jam Master Jay passed through WBAU on their way to future glory. As they were yet to enjoy even their first hit, the Kings from Queens were nervous. They were uncharacteristically quiet and reserved but nevertheless very happy to be there and happy that they were making their way in the industry.
After another visit or two they relaxed and began to open up. The Spectrum crew were always big fans. When ‘Sucker MCs’ was being primed for release, Chuck and Hank were able to get an early copy from Run DMC’s record company Profile through the record pool (a loose collection of DJs who received promos from record companies and swapped information about music) they were a part of. These were the days before hip-hop’s power became undeniable and when it was widely considered to be a fad that would end in the same way as disco and punk: fallen by the wayside. Disgusted fans of genres ranging from rock to classical music derided hip-hop for many reasons. Rappers didn’t play real instruments (failing to recognise both the innovative way hip-hop turned the turntable into an instrument and practices like beatboxing), they didn’t see the value of ‘talking’ on records (they obviously couldn’t see that rapping is the ultimate manifestation of the ancient African oral tradition) and where was the melody? To many, hip-hop wasn’t ‘real music’. It’s easy to see who had the last laugh.
‘Not everybody wanted to be a hip-hop DJ. It wasn’t a prestigious thing in the record pool,’ says Chuck. ‘If you were a hip-hop DJ they’d be like…’ He mimics someone being brushed off by a disinterested third party. As hip-hop DJs, Chuck and Hank were at the bottom of their record pool’s list of priorities. A lot of club owners also felt this way, so only a few hip-hop records at most would be played at your average club night.
This didn’t matter to Chuck and Hank. They weren’t as short-sighted as the other DJs and club owners and were more than happy to take the hip-hop records. As the years passed the amount of hip-hop records with which to form a playlist was increasing considerably. In the early eighties, funk and r’n’b began to take a back seat. But the people who ran the record pool were slow to catch on. As a result, Chuck and Hank’s dedication meant they would often actually be buying records to play on their show. The record pool wasn’t up to the times.
Run DMC’s demeanour was very different to that which the WBAU family had encountered with the handful of rappers who had been successful during the Sugar Hill era spawned by ‘Rapper’s Delight’. Run DMC ended that earlier style of rap with their stripped-down beats, street clothes and, most important of all, their harder style of emceeing. Their good attitude only made the WBAU crew all the more keen to promote them. From that point any record that came from the Rush camp would automatically get played.
In their continuing quest to make a name for Long Island, the Spectrum crew had taken to recording local rappers and playing the tunes on air. The Townhouse Three, a group from Freeport, Long Island, were one of these lucky groups. (In later years, Busta Rhymes, Charlie Brown and Dinco D of Leaders of the New School would be equally fortunate.) While they were careful to keep their own soulful identity, like almost everyone else, they modelled themselves on the Cold Crush Brothers, the innovative collective of pioneers from The Bronx (Cold Crush member Grandmaster Caz had to suffer the indignity of having his rhymes bitten (copied) by Big Bank Hank of The Sugar Hill Gang. If you listen closely to ‘Rapper’s Delight’, Hank even spells out his nickname, ‘Casanova Fly’). Later on, the trio struck a chord with hip-hop fans as Son of Bazerk. Chuck remembers their songs being just as good as anything else that was about at the time, if not better.
‘People thought they were regular records, better than the records we were playing.’ Cos once you hear it on the radio it wasn’t no difference.’ In just under a decade, Son of Bazerk would sign to Hank Shocklee and Bill Stephney’s SOUL label and enjoy a big hit with ‘Change the Style’. The song’s video, which features Bazerk dressed up as a reggae singer, a doo-wop crooner and a heavy metal artist, is one of the funniest hip-hop videos ever made and was a favourite on Yo! MTV Raps.
The Townhouse Three, aka Son of Bazerk, were another important factor in forming what would become Public Enemy. In 1982 Tony ‘TA’ Allen, known as TA the DJ, introduced William Drayton, aka Flavor Flav, to the fold. In the early eighties he went by the name of MC DJ Flavor. Bazerk needed someone to play keyboards on a tape he was recording for WBAU. Flavor, who was known as a musician around town – he’d also briefly played drums in a band with future Bomb Squad member Eric Sadler – was his preferred candidate.
This true original made the right impression on the Spectrum crew almost instantaneously. After Flav was introduced to Chuck, Hank and Keith, someone, it’s unclear who, made the mistake of starting a game of the dozens while he was present. Flavor Flav remembers this moment well. ‘Back in the days the thing was the dozens,’ he says of the phenomenon more commonly known as ‘yo’ mama’ jokes. ‘We were always snapping on each other’s moms, snapping on each other’s pops, snapping on each other’s cribs, snapping on each other. So, I went up there, and started to snap and everything. Next thing you know I was taking on all three of them. Chuck, Hank and Keith. And I was winning. Matter fact, I wasn’t winning, I won.’ He turns to Chuck, who was sitting on the other side of the tour bus when I spoke to him, and in an excited, playful voice stakes his claim in the snapping game. ‘I showed y’all that fucking night Chuck, you know that shit. That’s why y’all kept me around. That’s why y’all niggas kept me around ’cos I was murdering y’all. I ain’t gonna lie.’ Chuck’s laughs are enough to satisfy Flav that he’s right.
‘I had to defend my title that night,’ he continues. ‘I was killing them that night. Next thing you know I started hanging out at the studio, they let me start staying up there, started letting me get involved. That’s how I ended up becoming part of the entity.’ The humour and light relief that Flavor would bring to PE had always been there. ‘Claustrophobia Attack’, one of his pre-PE songs, featured him rhyming over the Ohio Players’ ‘Fopp’ about the perils of getting caught in an elevator with a woman who has bad breath.
Flav was so good he was beating future professionals at the dozens. One night after a gig, the Spectrum crew found themselves chowing down at a White Castle burger restaurant around three in the morning. A local comedian from Roosevelt named Steve White happened to be present, and a snap battle ensued between Steve and Flavor. Steve was no soft touch and would go on to feature in both film and TV. He has appeared in the Spike Lee films Do the Right Thing, Malcolm X and Clockers and Eddie Murphy’s Coming to America,