Linden Boulevard, Represent Represent-sent

Thank you, Michael Rapaport.

You have proven to be extremely valuable to the popular public discourse for something other than being recognized as a bit-player in 'True Romance' and 'Higher Learning,' or for your surprisingly funny turn as a disgruntled employee in the 'Pop Copy' sketch on Chappelle's Show.

For you, good sir, compiled and directed an admirably entertaining and thought-provoking documentary on seminal 1990s hip hop collective A Tribe Called Quest, titled "Beats Rhymes & Life" (incidentally, also the name of the group's fourth album, a release that sadly signaled the beginning of the end for the ambitious Queens jazz-rap pioneers).

I've been as amped up as a trailer park junkie waiting for a new shipment of Heisenberg's blue crystal upon finding out that said doc was to be released this summer.

Tribe holds special significance for me. They were the first true iteration of genuine, non-mainstream hip hop that I discovered in my younger days, and absorbing their rare form of jazz-infused musical goodness was instrumental in setting me on a path of discovery for a sonic movement that once thrived, but is now unfortunately buried in a morass of generic and uninspired beats/lyrics, marketing, self-promotion, twitter, auto-tune, i-tunes and a new generation of listeners that wasn't around to appreciate hip hop's golden era.

In the late 1990s, the Wu-Tang Clan is the hip hop collective I would claim as the genre's saviors, and my personal favorites. But before there was Wu-Tang, and before there was Biggie, even before Tupac started blowing up, there was the Native Tongues movement, spearheaded largely by A Tribe Called Quest and their 'hip hop brothers from another mother' De La Soul.

Yes, Tribe was amongst the early hip hop acts that wasn't concerned with videos, swag, chart positioning, groupies or any of the pratfalls that has prematurely claimed the careers of many a great musical artist. The focus was on the music, plain and simple. And boy, did Q-Tip and DJ Ali Shaheed Muhammad dig deep into the crates to find some of the most blessed, inspiring soundscapes to serve as a backdrop for the dope lyrical stylings of Tip and Phife Dawg.

The documentary was filmed mostly during Tribe's 2008 Reunion Tour, when they performed at the annually largely-attended Rock the Bells Festival. As with most films of this genre, we see the chronological progression of Tribe's career, the genesis of how they all met each other and began performing and recording their music. But a constant overall theme that Rapaport is wise to examine heavily is the long-standing tension between Q-Tip and Phife Dawg, which ultimately led to what many would describe as a premature disbanding of the group in 1998.

To be honest, Tribe breaking up when they did was a dagger in the heart of hip hop fans everywhere. The musical form was starting to navigate into a weird place. The 1980s represented the art form's burgeoning popularity and its invasion into the mainstream music-consuming experience. It was no longer just for jeeps and landcruisers rumbling through gritty urban landscapes, or block parties in the South Bronx or Union Square, or the rowhomes of Philadelphia or Baltimore.

It began to find its way into the homes of white suburbia. My own experience is proof positive. As far back as 1987 in east central Pennsylvania, I can vividly remember my older brother and I owning at least 3 cassettes that were an integral part of us becoming rap music fans at a young age - and for the curious-minded, those cassettes were Run DMC's "Raising Hell," (1984) The Beastie Boys' "Licensed to Ill" (1986) and LL Cool J's "Bad" (1987). Which is all fine and good.

But those artists are prime examples of those who were groomed for the big-time, for mainstream success. Even in the world of hip hop and rap music, there is a clear divide between those who enjoyed that type of success, and those who never quite made that large an impression in terms of overall popularity and record sales, but have a certain amount of respect and cache that can never be measured in dollar signs. Tribe certainly falls into that latter category, and it's always a magical experience when you discover your first favorite musical collective that is great to you, but will completely miss the boat with almost everyone else. Then, as you get older, you realize that just because a large number of people aren't digging something, that doesn't mean it's not good. It just means it wasn't made for the masses. This perfectly describes Tribe's music, as well as that of countless other highly-respected genre practitioners from back in the day.

Tribe's sound is rooted in jazz horns, thumping rhythms, fat bass lines and the smooth rhymes and flow of Tip and Phife. There's also a noticeable touch of social awareness in some tracks, and an appreciation for the music they're creating. With Tribe, the music isn't merely a vehicle for a message, as is the case with righteous power-rappers Public Enemy, or the gangster posturing of N.W.A. With Tribe, the music and lyrics co-exist together effortlessly and beautifully, unlike many unbalanced rap artists who are clearly much more gifted at either music or rhymes.

Beats Rhymes and Life, however, explores the degeneration of Tribe as much as, if not more so, the actual music. Some would criticize the film for this, but I say, it's an endeavor worth exploring, especially since so many years have passed since the breakup, and all that we fans have ever been able to pontificate about it all is - "Uh, so that's it? They're not getting along anymore?" As I mentioned before, the type of hip hop that Tribe excelled at was beginning to die out when the group broke up anyway. If you want to get philosophical about it, you could ask which event triggered the other? Did Tribe break up because they couldn't figure out how to continue putting out great music within the context of hip hop's rapidly evolving state, or did the shift that hip hop was undergoing signal the 'end' for musical acts cut from Tribe's cloth?

I prefer to think it was the latter, but I recognize that on many levels that simply makes me a curmudgeon, and not entirely unlike the grumpy grandfather shaking his cane from his front porch at the rowdy youngsters. However, I know there are lots of others who feel the same way.

Ultimately, Tribe's first three albums - People's Instinctive Travels and the Paths of Rhythm (1989), The Low End Theory (1991) and Midnight Marauders (1993) - are the gold standard by which all innovative hip hop of that time capsule is measured. Nobody could fuck with Tribe back then, and all real hip hop heads knew it. Yeah, maybe they weren't getting as many spins as Dre and Snoop when "The Chronic" exploded, but like I said, real heads knew where the hip hop perfection was truly located. Tip or Phife would slay Dre or Snoop in a lyrical battle without batting an eye.

Then after Midnight Marauders, they took an extended break. Phife's health troubles began to seriously take their toll (he's suffered from diabetes for most of his life, and needed a kidney transplant within the past few years from his wife). Aside from that, Phife and Tip have long had their own personal turmoil with each other regarding their individual roles and their relationship with each other as defined through Tribe. Tip states repeatedly in the documentary that it's about the group, and no one individual should rise above any of the others. That sounds great and all, but for hip hop fans in general, it's fairly routine knowledge that Tip is the group's defining member. He had the business savvy, and he was the guy making sure shit got done. Phife, it seems, was happy to write and spit nasty rhymes, but that's where it seemed to end with him. As we all know, you need at least one guy in the group to be the one who cracks the whip; the 'dad' making sure everyone eats their peas before dessert. Apparently, that was Tip, and Phife grew tired of it after awhile.

But it would be unwise to blame the group's disbanding simply on the Phife/Tip squabble. The changing landscape of hip hop was part of it. The fact that "Beats Rhymes and Life" and "The Love Movement" were received with lukewarm reception from both fans and critics alike was another part of it. Nothing continues forever. At least they still reunite for a tour every once in a while. I saw them myself twice, once at Rock the Bells in '08 and again at Rock the Bells last year, and let me tell you, they were amazing in the more recent performance (not even a year ago).

Hip hop is still alive and well if you know how to keep it going. But the current musical landscape isn't littered with groups like Tribe, De La Soul, Biggie, Tupac, Rakim, Gang Starr, Big L and a whole host of others. It's not like it was 15-20 years ago and beyond. To find the good-to-great stuff is harder than ever, but it IS out there.

Beats Rhymes and Life is an extremely in-depth look at Tribe. Tip, Phife, Ali Shaheed Muhammad (the peace-loving DJ who just wanted to make music) and Jarobi (whose spirit defined what Tribe was really all about) made musical history, and every now and then, they do revisit that special place. Even if you're not a huge fan of hip hop, it's hard not to appreciate this flick. Tons of cameos from hip hop visionaries abound as well, such as Busta Rhymes, Beastie Boys, De La Soul, Common, even Black Thought and Questlove from The Roots.

But perhaps the most poignant moment in the film comes when Phife is discussing the current state of hip hop, and pontificating whether other career options he’s considering might need to take over his involvement full-time. He makes an allusion, with respect to the music, about “the way things are going,” and sort of trails off while shaking his head, letting those words hang in the air.

At that point in the otherwise animated (for much of the movie, anyway) theater, it was soft enough to hear the needle dropping on an old piece of vinyl from about 50 feet away.

A METH-od to his Madness

Sunday, July 17th, marks the return of television's greatest crime drama. And if you consider yourself a fan of episodic TV crime drama, then you are undoubtedly aware that the above reference is to the darkly brilliant and wholly engrossing AMC show "Breaking Bad," a tour de force of desperate characters and unbelievable events that has only gained considerable momentum with the passing of each of its three seasons.

I shouldn't have to break you off with the "spoiler alert" warning if you're already this far in, but let's make it official. If you haven't peeped the manuscript, avert your eyes, because lots of plot points from past episodes need to be revealed here.

First of all, it would be boring and a waste of time for you to read some lengthy fan-boy dissertation about how fantastic this show is, how solid the acting is, or how much it sucks you in and convinces you to root for characters you would rather not piss on if they were set ablaze.

If you're a fan of the show you already know all about what makes BB great, and have your own well-formed (or perhaps not so well-formed) opinions. If you're not a fan of the show and haven't seen it, you're likely either scrolling past this section, or more realistically, muttering to yourself "Who the hell is the Player President and why does he call himself that" while hitting the 'back' button on your web page and looking for someone who you may actually have heard of before.

Either way, I would prefer to delve into something a tad juicier. Perhaps a topic not so easily dissected - much like that first frog in freshman Biology (or something you did in Chemistry - cue Mr. Walter White in ugly smock and safety goggles!)

I would love to explore for a bit, if I may, the much-debated aspect of how the show forces us to consider morality, how easily skewed our sense of right and wrong can become by mitigating circumstances, and perhaps most importantly, whether the show's central character Walter White - portrayed flawlessly these past three seasons by the uber-talented Bryan Cranston - orchestrated his manifestation into "a bad guy."

I use the "quotes" because I'm not entirely sure if I would even classify Mr. White as such, crazy as though that may sound to both casual and hardcore viewers of the show alike.

Pop culture philosopher extraordinaire Chuck Klosterman has constructed an intriguing take on Breaking Bad, comparing it to three other highly acclaimed TV dramas from the past decade (Mad Men, The Sopranos and The Wire). As riveting a read as this is, I find myself to be in at least mild disagreement with the viewpoint that Walter White at some point "changed himself" and decided "to become bad."

I'm not even sure what this means, really. Are we to believe that anyone wakes up one day and consciously wills himself/herself to begin committing morally questionable actions from that point onward? Even if the argument is such that this is a gradual transformation, it seems a questionable theory at best. Behaving "bad" or "good" isn't any more of a choice within us than whatever it is that exists in our brains and causes us to decide we might prefer mozzarella cheese over American, or that we may rather blue over green. It's all hard-wired within us before we can even ponder the question.

When I view Walter White, I see a man who opened a series of doors over the course of the show with a noble initial goal - to provide for his family after what appeared at the time to be his imminent demise. It is this choice, coupled with White's backstory, that has placed him into the position we find him during the gripping conclusion of Season 3 - hastily ordering the murder of an innocent man to save his own hide. (And if you think you wouldn't ever do the same thing if your own ass was on the line, you may not know yourself as well as you think you do).

My point is this -- folks like Walter White who color inside the lines for their whole lives cannot become something they aren't any more so than Marlo Stanfield from The Wire can put on a business suit, hobnob with city officials and stay off the streets. But what they can do is awaken something within themselves they didn't know was there when desperate times call for desperate measures. This isn't so much a reflection of a conscious decision to change as it is letting your body and brain take over naturally to accomplish goals that you see as needing to be realized, without any other option.

To give you a microcosmic example, I've observed behavior in New York City from people who would never otherwise need to exhibit such actions to get ahead, or even 'tread water', just about anywhere else in the country, geographically speaking. But because they are in New York and are subject to the unwritten rules and laws of such a hyper, Type-A mentality and culture, they do what they have to do or else they'll never get anywhere. And I'm not just talking about in the corporate world either. It can be as innocuous as getting the spot you want on a crowded subway car, or using just the right blend of assertiveness and politeness to get a table at the crowded restaurant with amazing food but horrible customer service skills.

Walter White finding out that a terminal disease was about to claim him from a meekly-lived, routine existence was the catalyst to awaken within him that which was always present, but just lying there dormant.

Does anyone think he took some crazy pills one day to transform himself into somebody that willingly allows young female drug addicts to choke to death on their own vomit with nobody else around to stop it, or the guy who barrels his modest middle-class automobile into a pair of wasteoid drug dealers before planting some liquid steel into their heads to finish the job with the no-doubt-about-it killshot?

Let's look back on just a few examples of some of the more heinous acts Walt has committed, and we will soon realize he only did so out of self-preservation.

1) Putting in a fake call for DEA agent Hank about his wife Marie being involved in an auto accident to throw the investigation off the scent and buy Walt and Jesse more time when they were about to get busted in the RV? Self-preservation.

2) Allowing Jane to choke on her puke? Self-preservation. Remember, she threatened to expose Walt if he and Jesse wouldn't agree to cut her in on their profits, even though she was doing nothing to deserve any of those funds (other than being the subject of Jesse's unwavering love and affection).

3) Barrelling into those lowlifes and then caving in their brains with some hot lead when they were about to waste Jesse? Okay, not completely an act of self-preservation, but you could extrapolate that it actually was just that since Jesse is as important to Walt's current position as anyone else, and he needs him as a No. 2.

4) Phoning Jesse and imploring him to rush over to Gabe's house and "do the deed" is the ultimate act of self-preservation, and it was about as calculated as what you do when a line drive is screaming at your dome. It was the ONLY option for Walt to survive that situation, and he definitely wasn't thinking about it on his way over to the laundry facility to meet up with Hitman Mike, you best believe that shit.

There are certainly other examples. And look, let's not fool ourselves into believing that Walt doesn't make less hasty but still conscious choices that harm others on a daily basis (cooking meth that destroys lives and no doubt causes an untold myriad of individuals to overdose on his intoxicating brand of crystal heaven). But it's much easier to rationalize actions that harm others when the negative consequences and suffering of nameless, faceless individuals isn't presented before us as a direct result of the dark choices that we make. If anyone reading this can honestly say they've never performed an action - whether minor or major - that hurt someone else knowing that nobody could trace it directly back to them, then I can point you to a polygraph waiting impatiently to strike said person with a closed fist of skepticism.

Finally, I've seen others posit that the show builds itself around the concept that the main character, or "protagonist," transforms from a likeable to an unlikeable character, and that to do this is a crazy move on the part of the writers/show creators.

For me, quite the contrary. I think Walt has become more likeable since the show has started. In season one, when we see Walt working a shitty second job in a car wash and being berated by some of his obnoxious students, or when we later find out how he was once such a brilliant, promising scientist who should have made more of himself but was screwed over by more opportunistic "colleagues," we just feel bad for him.

It's with careful examination that we learn that Walt doesn't so much as "become bad" as he decides to stop letting life kick him in the balls time after time when it becomes apparent that the fuse that is his life is about to be snuffed out anyway by a terminal illness.

How can you not root for him when he leg-bombs that dickhead jock making fun of his kid that has Cerebral Palsy? How can you not identify with him when he flips out at the asshole car wash boss and quits in a fit of self-satisfied but somewhat justifiable rage? How could you possibly not want Walt to come out on top against these lowlifes around him who would be selling meth and jacking people up for a high regardless of what was happening around them?

The difference between Walt and someone who is "bad" is that Walt wouldn't fuck with a regular citizen under any circumstance. If you didn't already have it coming, you weren't going to get yours from Walt. Well, unless you become hooked on meth and send yourself into an irreversible downward spiral as a result of your addiction to Walt's blue-powdered candy. But even then, you can't blame your choices or addictions on an individual you never met before. Are we really so naive as to believe that someone else's meth wouldn't be killing people if Walt's product wasn't on the street?

We continue to root for Walt and his morally ambiguous choices not just because Cranston does such a wonderful job at evoking sympathy for his character's plight (that's part of it).

I would like to believe that we continue to root for Walt because he embodies what we all would love to believe is right and just in the world - and that is the story of a man who gets kicked to the ground by a gang of cowardly bitches (i.e. life pushing you around), picked back up, and then kicked back down again for some more abuse before saying "fuck it" and unleashing a holy hell's worth of vengeance on everything around you that's trying to stop your progress.

Breaking Bad is the story of a lot of different things, and a lot of different philosophical and morally debatable questions.

But above all else, I like to think that it's the story of a man who was always capable of anything, but behaved like a good citizen until being a good citizen just wasn't cutting it anymore.

Love or hate what Walt is becoming, what you should love is the fact that his "taking shit from people" days are long behind him.

The true brilliance of Breaking Bad is how we can find ourselves hoping that characters like Walt and Jesse can keep this ridiculous streak going. If heading into Season 4 we were supposed to be starting to hate Walt right about now, mission failed. I hate Pollos and Hitman Mike 10 times more than I hate Walt at the moment, and I don't even really hate those guys.

The only way I could hope that Walt actually fails or gets taken down is if he were to start sacrificing the citizenry who have no real place in all this ugliness. That's when someone has lost all control of their faculties (see the story about Pablo Escobar taking down a commercial airliner full of innocent people because he wanted to kill one guy who was found to not even have been ON THE PLANE!).

But who knows, this show is so unbelievably good that maybe even that wouldn't be enough for me to jump off the U.S.S. Walter White.