Scoop Jackson

INSIDE OF A STUDIO SUITE ON THE FIFTH FLOOR of 500 West Cermak, the sounds of the underground are banging through the speakers hanging from the corners of the ceiling.

Some Chi luminaries cram the room in support, others come to peep the latest creation then go back to their labs and see if they can Pro Tools their own version, the rest are here to see the icon, Too Short--who for some reason is in the building.

Life is too quiet for the man whose sounds bless the building. Harvy Allbangers--who is playing the wall, incognito as Jean-Paul Maunick--is not surrounded by label execs and A&Rs the way that most less-talented and in-the-know-look-who-I-know beat makers of the city usually are. Instead, for the less-than-250 people who have crowded the spot for the listening party for the second part of his production trilogy, "Brace Yourself," they have come to represent the impact "the most slept-on producer in the city" has had on a place that hip-hop has all of a sudden fallen in love with.

Basically he's an anonymous living legend. A local version of Just Blaze. Diamond D without DITC. 9th Wonder without the Destiny's Child introduction. J. Dilla without the immortality. Swizz Beats without the paychecks, advance, record label, Madonna's house and production deal.

It is the life of a producer trapped in a city that has no support system in place to support his art. Yes Chicago is the city on the verge in hip-hop, but what do we really have here? Radio provides no true outlet since most unsigned local artists cannot afford to pay stations the money being demanded to get adequate spins, there is no print media devoted to showcasing local talen--like The Source in NY back in the day before it became the national hip-hop bible, Rap Sheet in LA, The Bomb in Atlanta, etc.--the video show format is dead (no more Channel Zero, no pioneers like Ralph McDaniels), the performances are stifled because there are very few, if any spots (clubs) where live hip-hop can be performed on a regular basis due to the nonfiction myth that most venues do not want to pay the insurance necessary to host hip-hop events. Which leaves most artists and producers stuck on the "mixtape" scene. And there, there's only so much Mike Love and Pharris Thomas can do.

Still, Allbangers' omnipresence in the city is official right now. So official: On Power 92, his "That Bass" by the legendary Corona is catching spins; on WGCI, his "All I Ever Do" by the 14-year old prodigy Ravin is in rotation; his "I Miss You" by Jaya is heavy in the mix shows; "Popcorn 2" by Bo and Logic is played in the clubs nightly; and his remix of YC's "It Ain't Basic" is blowing up the streets like news--he's on the north, east, west and south sides of the city.

He even blessed Doug Banks with intro music for his radio return to Chicago last week, impressing the radio legend so much that Mr. Dan Ryan Head wants Bangers to bang out an intro for his nationally syndicated show.

But still you'd think he'd be famous west of Lake Michigan. You'd think that inside Chi City you'd have read about him before, that Greg Kot or Jim DeRogatis would have profiled the dude by now, that Newcity would have put him on the cover by now. But no.

Harvy Allbangers remains infamous and un-famous. Unknown... but not alone.

RHYMEFEST AND LUPE FIASCO GET THE Fader, Billboard and Tribune magazine covers and Vibe feature stories. NO ID gets the label love and the high-end unsigned artists. The Mole Men and ROYCE get the rock-star, white-boy love. Kanye gets everything.

But on the streets, in the places where Jay Allen (programming director at WPWX) and Ellroy Smith (GM at WGCI) have no say, where Soundscan has no following, it's the sound of another who can be heard. Before every 808 drop you hear his call--a louder version of Rodney Jerkins' "Darkchild," a less obtrusive version of Blaze's "Just Blaaazzzeeee!"

"Allbangers!"

From that point on... it's goin' down.

Born in the Chi, Will Howell fell in love with music around the same time he started watching cartoons on Saturday morning. When ON TV was the only cable channel.

"The Beastie Boys," he screams, Paris'ing the days of old. "'License To Ill'! The arrangement of sounds and diversity in songs. That's when I knew. That album when I was a kid busted my head open--like `Wow.'"

A product of Julian High School and later Chicago State University, he started twisting knobs after he realized that he was actually memorizing the music in songs before he'd memorize the lyrics. His first effort was the group WD4D, before that he (along with the recently lost local production legend, Lee Richardson) did everything he could to get in the game.

"Back then," Allbangers remembers, "we had to learn to be all-around artists, we had to learn to do everything. Write, rhyme, produce, perform, promote, everything. Because no one else was going to do anything for you."

Then he became one half of the duo Bon and Nip.

In the vein of Quik ("Honestly... he was Kanye before Kanye, he just hasn't gotten the break" says a member of the Soul Selectors DJ unit), Howell grabbed the mic and showcased his skill as that rare hip-hop double threat: producer/MC. His beats were so undetectable and varied it was often hard to believe that it was all coming from one individual.

Nothing sounded similar; there was no signature sound. He took risks musically that most producers back then would do more than shy away from, they'd Chi away from.

"Chicago never defined a sound," Dedry Jones, owner of the Music Experience, executive producer of "The Experience" and former president of United Music Retailers. "What made Will's music different back then was the musicality of his tracks. They were different than the formula music everyone else was putting out. Musically what he was doing was just better."

But units didn't move and radio wasn't friendly. As his name grew in the streets and his rep grew on the Chicago music scene (especially for his ability to pen intricate and humorous rhymes), the MC/producer then performing under the alias Boniface had to make a decision: Continue to produce music for his fledging two-man crew or expand his game so that others could benefit?

The latter decision bitterly ended the existence of Bon & Nip (as well as the personal friendship), but opened the door for every MC in the city to ring his J.A.W. Entertainment office phone and schedule time. Fiending beats from the city's newest beat fiend.

"At the time, West Side artists such as Do or Die, Twista and Crucial Conflict were the only groups that labels were trying to sign or getting radio play outside of the city. In order to compete with that we had to form a team," he says.

PJ Harris is the other half of J.A.W. While Harvey creates, Harris generates: funds and interest. A former account rep for various healthcare companies, Harris--who formerly managed a local jazz band Lines and Spaces--scoped the game out and realized that Chicago is too polarized and too political for one man to try to make it or succeed solo. And if you don't believe that ask Common about Derek Dudley or Kanye about John Monopoly.

"There is no industry [for rap music] here," Harris says. "Therefore we have no choice but to formulate a team, a unit of trust. It's almost a survival mechanism. Remember, as far as hip-hop is concerned, everyone is first generation here."

But a producer of Howell's ilk, in a city on the come up as this one is, should not be without shine. While hydrosonic masters like King Karnov get highlighted in Scratch magazine, for the producer who has been responsible for a box-set worth of "hood anthems" (from Bon and Nip's "Shine Bright" to White Chalk's "Chi All Day" to the current Bo and Logic's banger "Popcorn 2") getting press and recognition is like Susan Lucci getting an Emmy. Or Halle Berry getting marriage right.

The underground is a beautiful place to be, but does anyone in Chicago hip-hop really want to live there forever?

HOW CAN A PRODUCER OF SUCH WEALTH BE UNWEALTHY; with such promise not be promised anything? Is the game, the culture of hip-hop in Chicago that cold? Is the wind chill in the industry that strong?

To many who've followed Allbangers' career those questions linger like bass-line snaps, chord changes and hidden drum samples ("I love drums," he says) in one of his "trunk rattlers." But to the one who's fate it is, it's the way it's supposed to be.

"I ain't gonna lie," Bangers spits, green plaid White Sox cap fitted atop his membrane as sweat escapes him, trickling down his temples in this 95-degree heat-wave Chi had in July. "It gets frustrating seeing other cats get theirs while I'm still grindin'."

On his grind he sits behind the boards on this day in his lab, "fruit loopin'" as he calls it; reminiscing, contemplating, building sounds inside of his head.

Sounding very much like comedian Jay Anthony Brown in his delivery (the voice similarities are eerie), Allbangers deciphers the rules of the game as they apply to existence in Chi that are different for a producer of hip-hop than in any other city in the country.

"When people get on too fast they miss what I call the `middle passage,'" he says. "The struggle leads to an appreciation once you get there. The struggle, success and fame can distract you, but it can't detour you."

It's at the point in his career where he has to convince himself that "God has a plan for me." He just has to find a way to find the patience to find out if that plan involves being able to produce music for a living.

Chicago's cold can sometimes have nothing to do with the weather. Allbangers is living proof.

He grabs the Aux-1 knob on the Mackie 32 Plus 8 to begin the final mix on his "Controversy" compilation.

He's keeping it consolidated now. Working only with a select few, those who he can nurture into his sound while he continues to evolve.

It's the same route Quincy Jones took with Rufus and Chaka Khan, the Brothers Johnson, James Ingram and Patti Austin, until he "found" Michael Jackson; the same route Jam and Lewis took with the SOS Band and the Time before they "found" Janet; the same route Marly Marl took "developing" his Juice Crew before LL tapped him to knock out his Mama.

Which is why Allbanger's story may be closer to a beginning than an end.

"In order for Allbangers to get his," someone said at his listening party, "he needs to do what Timbaland did: reinvent himself, then come back with a Nelly Furtado and watch the next phase of his career blow [up]."

Deep.

But first Bangers has to get to Timbaland's level. Not in skills, but in support. And it doesn't look like Chicago is going to give him that opportunity.

At least not without a continuous struggle.

(2006-08-08)

Also by Scoop Jackson

Razzle Dazzle
He had to leave this town to get appreciated. It usually happens that way in this city...
(2004-05-12)

Go West
South Side-raised, the young preppy backpack prodigy Kanye began replacing lyrics with poetry, beats with rhythms
(2004-02-03)

A Civil Rights Movement
The Chicago Bulls ain't what they used to be.
(2000-06-08)

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