All hail the ruler of Wicked City, King Krafty Kuts!

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For years Krafty Kuts represented the great divide between one of my greatest friends and I. He had stolen my friend from the comfortable groove of the classic hip-hop and reggae that formed much of the basis for our friendship and dragged him into (What I perceived to be) the cold, ruthless clutches of electronic music. All I heard about was how great Krafty Kuts was. He stood at the gates of my aural Mordor, along with Stanton Warriors, as the guards to some terrifying hellscape, waiting to pierce me in the ears and take away my great love in life if I dared to venture too close. Also, the guy goes by Krafty Kuts. Read that three times. Think about it and realize what an easy target that is to make fun of. It's nearly impossible to discuss something you're afraid of with such a ridiculous name and not bring attention to it.

(Mixes, tracks and photos abound within.)

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The Archives: Boots Riley is a traditionalist dragging things forward. And we're all the better for it.

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Two nights before Barrack Obama's second Presidential election in Nov. 2012, I tracked down political activist, songwriter, public speaker, Coup frontman and all around bad muthafucka Boots Riley to talk about the latest Coup record, the instant classic Sorry To Bother You, the live Coup experience vs. the records and the impact of social media on political activism. It was the second time I've interviewed Riley and he remains one of the best, most open interviews I've ever done. If you're not fucking with the Coup you're fucking up. Mad respect to Boots, one of the most important brothers working in the game today. Great talk. Hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed having it.

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Odario Williams is much less Thunderous than Grand Analog's music, but no less awesome.

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Canadian hip-hop is in the middle of a revolution. The sound coming out of the Great White North is literate, fluid and thumping. It is the sound of a generation that grew up on the pure, uncut goods from down South and decided to tread a path all its own but laden with respect for the tradition of not just hip-hop music but hip-hop culture as a whole. Few acts out there are going as strong as Grand Analog. It was awhile between records, but Modern Thunder was worth the wait. A few months ago I got ahold of Odario while he was doing some recording in Toronto to talk about what makes Canadian hip-hop unique, the greatness of Saukrates and how Catalyst makes him laugh. Much respect to one of the protectors of Canadian Hip-Hop culture, Odario Williams. 

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I think about Bob Marley on his birthday and would like to share some of those thoughts.

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"Bob Marley became the voice of third world pain and resistance, the sufferer in the concrete jungle who would not be denied forever. Outsiders everywhere heard Marley as their own champion; if he could make himself heard, so could they, without compromises. In 2096, when the former third world has overrun and colonised the former superpowers, Bob Marley will be commemorated as a saint." - John Parales

Few albums have the ability to grate my nerves like Legend. For the longest time I held it as a shining example of everything that people misunderstood about reggae. I knew so many people who had that album, and no other, and claimed to be a fan of reggae. There was no Lee Perry on their shelves. No Burning Spear. No Toots Hibbert. Not even Bunny Wailer or Peter Tosh. It was simply Legend. Every reggae band I saw in concert had at least one Bob Marley song. Street performers all played "Three Little Birds" or "Redemption Song," the latter being especially bothersome as a "guy at the party with the guitar" song. It was Bob Marley overload. Everywhere I went I was inundated with Marley and his most famous songs. I began to actively avoid and resent not just Legend, but the entire Marley cannon. Then one day I was in the record store and I was compelled for some unknown reason to pick up Burnin', the seminal Wailers record. This was shortly after I had begun smoking cannabis on a regular basis and by the time the final notes of what is now my favourite Marley song, "Rastaman Chant," came to an end I knew I had fallen into a serious rabbit hole.

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I talk with Five Alarm Funk's resident Animal, Tayo Branston. Also, it's wicked!

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Five Alarm Funk has been a West Coast institution for nearly a decade. Their Empire of Funk may be based on the quiet, slow coast of Canada, but they're slowly marching on the rest of the world, establishing a New World Order of Fun. I was there to witness one of their highpoints of Glorious Fun at Shambhala where they destroyed the Amphitheatre (Formerly the Rock Pit) and made my good friend and Guide to the Cosmos, Hingle McCringleberry, admit to their live-band greatness. Fuck yeah. Anyways, I was supposed to talk to frontman and guy who surprisingly isn't Animal from the Muppets, Tayo Brantson whilst at the festival but I was unable to make it. But luckily we managed to hook up on the phone a little more than a month later and talked about that missed opportunity, the grueling nature of the F.A.F.'s tour schedule and the dangers of spilling on oneself.

This week Five Alarm Funk celebrates 10 years of funking the hell out of fans in Victoria at Sugar Nightclub. Read this, get amped and then get some tickets here. 

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