We wanted to have some fun with this. You feel fun right? Back before Rakim’s 2010 show, Nuv wrote a little ditty listing Rakim’s best 18 songs (brevity was never his strong point). Here’s a taste:

17. Let The Rhythm Hit ‘Em
Rap espionage. The beat’ll leave you shaken and stirred while Rakim takes full advantage of the icy menace of his impossibly smooth voice. Someone should name a drink after this song.

Yeah, they should. So, that’s where you come in…

Sip The Juice (We Got Enough To Go Around)

We want you to come up with a drink recipe for any of Rakim’s songs. Be it smooth, sweet, smoky or just plain slick, we’ll select the best two and bequeath two tickets to each winner. Cool? Cool.

Leave your best cocktail concoctions in the Comments below.
And hurry up son, deadline is midnight Tuesday May 22.

Jay: “Once again, back is the incredible…”

Nuv: “…Rah-uh, ruh-uh-uh-uh-uh-uh…”

You: What the hell are youse two guys yammering on about?

Nuv: Tsk, tsk. I thought you knew the ledge and shit. Hey, Haddow. Learn this motherfucker…

Jay: Ahem. (adjusts imaginary tie) OHMYFUCKINGGOD, THEFUCKINGGODISCOMING! Rakim Allah! Coming back! To Vancouver! TO FORTUNE SOUND CLUB!

Nuv: Yo, you can’t ace the test without studying, B. Do the knowledge.

Jay: Translation for old and/or white folk…

Nuv: …AKA the Haddow family…

Jay: …read on for ticket prices and other relevant details…

FORTUNE SOUND CLUB &  STUSSY PRESENT…

THE LEGENDARY RAKIM (ERIC B & RAKIM)

W/ GUESTS CONSCIENCE, J-DENNIS, JAY SWING

WHERE & WHEN: Sunday, May 27 at Fortune Sound Club (147 E. Pender at Main in Chinatown) doors 8pm – 12am

FACEBOOK EVENT PAGE: HERE.

TIX: Early Bird (limited quantity) $20, Advance $25, and then $30 available at Beatstreet, DIPT, Livestock Gastown, online HERE.

“I’m pretty sure the first time a rapper’s delivery was referred to as butter, that dude was probably bumping Rakim. While others had to scream on the mic to get your attention, Rakim laid back on it and still came off menacing. Cool and calculating, he spun a web with his words, lured you in and had you exactly where he wanted you. Some say he fell off. You got it all wrong, melon-farmers. The art of MCing just finally raised itself to his level. So, “Stick my dick in ya ear and fuck what ya heard.” – Nuv Takhar, 2009

Jay: “It’s the return of the Wild…”

Nuv: I already did that one.

Jay: Oh. Right. How about “spread the word, I’m in E-F-F-E-C-T, a smoo…

Nuv: Yo, I’m really happy for you, I’mma let you finish, but RAKIM HAS THE BEST FLYER OF ALL TIME! Note the third name over from the left at the bottom of that shit.

Jay: THAT’S US!

Nuv: THAT’S RIGHT!

Jay: Well alright then.

Nuv: Say, any o’ you mu’fuckers know how to time warp me straight to May 27th? No? Pfft. We OUTTA here.

Jay: Yo, what happened to peace?

Nuv: PEACE!

Still need convincing?! Shee-it. R2AK’s been hippin’ you hippies to Rakim since time BEGAN and shit! Nuv and Jay saw Rakim last time he came to Vancouver (thanks, and super-mega-pogo-jump high fives, to Jay Swing!) and had to wear eye patches over both eyes for a while after. Oh, they could see fine. They just kept crying out blown-mind bits. POW: Nuv’s review! BIFF: Jay’s pics/vids! ZOWIE: Nuv’s list of the top 18 Rakim songs! And if you’re still unsure, go re-read Nuv’s quote (up, and to the right of Piggy Seldon’s floating head of doom). And if you’re STILL still unsure after that?

Go fuck yourself.

- Nuvy T. & Jayhad

“Look! Tiny riot gear. Awwww…” (Community continues to rule Thursday night comedy with an iron fist.)

“Sh-sh-sh-sh”-ee-it: just wait’ll you motherfuckers get a load of ‘Sandpaper’…

Lead by Hulk, The Avengers smashes it’s way into Nuv’s Top 5 Superhero Movies. For the record…

Friday Mourning…

Ty Segall whips Waldorf hairbags into a Friday night Frenzy…

Saturday Morning! (starring Stella Belle Takhar & Nuv as Himself)

– Nuv

ON OUR NEXT EPISODE: MORE NEWS ON THIS!!!
(Look closely at the names along the bottom…)

No Sleep Till Brooklyn

(You Gotta) Fight For Your Right (To Party)

Brass Monkey

Paul Revere

Looking Down The Barrel Of A Gun

Shake Your Rump

So What Cha Want

Pass The Mic

Sure Shot

Get It Together (Feat. Q-Tip)

Sabotage

Gratitude

Fuck.

– Nuv

Timbre Concerts and Karmaloop Present…

EL-P

With Special Guests Killer Mike, Mr. Muthafuckin Exquire, Despot
Monday July 2nd, 2012 @ FORTUNE SOUND CLUB
Doors at 9:00pm, Show at 10:00pm

Tickets $20.00 advance available online at www.ticketweb.ca

Also available at Red Cat, Highlife, Zulu and Beatstreet Records.

From Brooklyn, rapper and producer, on tour to support his latest release “CANCER4CURE”.
For more info, visit www.definitivejux.net and www.timbreconcerts.com

ON SALE NOW! BUY HERE!

So, wake yo’ goat-mouth-ass up and run a hundred miles before your coffee! You can Sleep When You’re Dead, forfucksakes! What you need to do right now is bust out the keytar and go Full Retard! The invincible, Indelible El Producto is comin’! Shee-it, even when he “say nothin’ it’s a beautiful use of negative space!”

In the meantime, you can cop El-P’s Cancer 4 Cure LP on May 22, and bone up. You’re gonna need to know every word for “yelling along” purposes…

Fuck yeah, yo!

– Nuv

The Play Is The Thing
I already told you how good A Bomb-itty of Errors is, but if you’re silly and haven’t already gone, here’s a neon pink warning: This is your last weekend to catch it performed live in Vancouver. Lest you think I’m biased, I’m not the only one who loved it. Hence the glowing reviews from Miss 604, The Georgia Straight and The Vancouver Courier. Now, go man. Just go.

Craft-O-Matic
Make It! The Handmade Revolution is here at the Croatian Cultural Centre Friday through Sunday. Back when I was a teenager, the CCC was where you went to see punk rock bands and watch sluts make out with slut dudes. Now it’s where I’m going to snap up a bunch of crafts from people who are way more talented and resourceful than me. Further proof they know how to have a good time – booze is served. Drunk craft shopping? If you need me, I’ll be the one sweating and annoying the vendors with too many compliments. Mom drunk!
Click & print the poster below for $2 off admission.

Nerd Herd
If you’re shrugging your shoulders at crafts and Shakespearean hip hop, may I interest you in a little something called MEETING LOU FERRIGNO IN PERSON? Or, maybe, Kevin Sorbo, Cameron from Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, The Killing’s Billy Campbell, Worf from Star Trek, or 1960s Batman (Adam West) with his Robin (Burt Ward) and THE MOTHERF-CKIN’ BATMOBILE?! What is this seemingly names-pulled-out-of-a-paper-bag crazy concoction of folks, you ask? It’s the Vancouver Fan Expo running Saturday & Sunday at the Vancouver Convention Centre. The nerd fumes will be running HIGH and I haven’t even mentioned the comic industry attendees. Along with our good friends Jason Copland & Ed Brisson, there’s gonna be greatness in the form of Pia Guerra (Y: The Last Man), Yanick Paquette (Swamp Thing), Greg Rucka (Whiteout) and Ken “Value Added” Steacy (an island boy, who was at Nuv’s very first comic convention at his boyhood comic shop, Island Fantasy). Speaking of that scoundrel, The Big Two (Nuv & Ian) will also be in attendance checking out any boobs on display and Raid-fighting (lots of blocked slaps and sweat). Admission info, the full list of attendees, special panels and photo ops here.

Pick a Flick
I looked up what was opening this weekend. Did I quickly get distracted and look at Beyonce’s Tumblr account? Maybe. I did see one movie I’d be willing to pay a lot of money to watch while eating popcorn: Jeff Who Lives At Home. I think it’s a universal truth that by now Jason Segel is the one guy most girls would friend f-ck.

Constipation Motivation
At the top of the list of weekend simple pleasures, there is really nothing better than sitting on the toilet and f-cking around on your phone. While our grandparents bravely rub their aching war wounds, our generation will grow old and bemoan our ass muscle circulation, caused by many a back-to-back game of Draw Something. Since life is pretty much just a giant competition for me, I am pretty unhappy that I am terrible at this game. To rub salt into the wound, Nuv has this really irritating habit of being good at everything. He has mastered Draw Something in ways I cannot describe. So, I’ll just let you feast your eyes on what he pulls off using a thumbnail and iPhone. Nutty.

Terrible People Laugh Loudest
This recommendation is really simple. You can even stay in. Cards Against Humanity is the greatest card game we have ever played and we play a lot of card games. The only prep you need is to have a sidekick go print off the cards somewhere like Kinko’s etc. (The cheaper the better ’cause that’s the only fee you pay for this ridiculous fun time.) And tell that good pal to pick up a bottle of Nikka whiskey on the way back. (It’s Japanese and will straighten your pubes.) The official rules are on their site. The unofficial rule is you are only playing to make each other laugh inappropriately. With that, everybody wins.
Click the pic to download a free PDF of the cards. Print. Play. THAT’S IT!

Sunday Sweetness
So, now it’s Sunday night. You’re allowed to get excited for TV. Buy a bag of the greatest snack known to man – Popcorn, Indiana’s black & white drizzled kettle corn – and be prepared to be super angry when your greedy fingers hit the bottom of the bag.

Now, grab a pillow and blanket (the long winter’s coming) and settle in for some Grade-A entertainment. First up, Game of Thrones. As of about a week ago we were on Season 1, Episode 2. Some hard core ignoring of adult responsibilities let us catch up right quick and now we are like the rest of the world and have to wait each week patiently to see what will happen next. For a gal that has never liked fantasy, history or incest, I am hooked. Favourite character – Peter Dinklage’s Tyrion Lannister. Always and forever, Dinklage.

And, finally Mad Men. Just when I thought this season was crazy amazing, they let Lane beat the sh-it out of Pete. (I will never like Pete. Even when he cries like me in an elevator.) This season can now do no wrong. Other than Megan’s mouth.

And now it’s time for bed. I wish you the sweetest of dreams. Remember – there’s only five more days until your next weekend…

The second annual V.I.C. Fest will be held on June 16th, again on the gorgeous grounds of St. Ann’s Academy. After this small taste of the f-ck yeah fun to come, we’re sure the second year will play out like so – crammed with a variety of talented local performers, food & booze. And boobs. And violins. And lots of beer.

Ultimately, it’s the very best of what Vancouver Island has to offer.

Here are a few snaps Jay caught of the night – a tease of great things to come.
(For tickets, great contests and more info, go here.)
See you there!

WHAT I GIGGED (Yes, that’s an accurate, academically recognized word. Google it. Or just trust me.)
Cults at Venue

Ok, it was a Monday night after a long sun-dappled weekend. Fine, Sleigh Bells was playing across the street. Alright, it wasn’t their first time in VanCity. Still, this was a lame lame lame showing Vancouver. This music (as Nuv describes it “soft soft soft, LOUDLOUDLOUD”) is meant to be danced to and the last time I checked Vancouver was not experiencing a shortage of adorable tiny girls in big jewelry and tiny hats willing to dance like they have vaginal ants. Where were you Monday? Venue was a graveyard; I even had room to comfortably drape my coat across my bag because coat checks are a great way to pay for lice. I’ll tell you who was there to see the follically gifted band from NYC rip through their fantastic debut (plus bonus Leonard Cohen cover!)

• First date losers, yelling to be heard, with their back to the band – EJECT!
• Sullen suckers looking like the gig was their punishment for a terrible haircut – EJECT!
• Packs of dudes in 2012 versions of No Fear shirts looking very confused – EJECT!

WHAT I READ
Saga #2 by Brian K. Vaughan & Fiona Staples

You loved Y: The Last Man, right? ME TOO! Here’s another mega-fun and quirky Vaughan escape story. His ear for dialogue that is so tight, so funny and so legit (even when it involves royalty with TV’s for heads boning) is very evident in this futuristic fable, now two issues deep. Yeah it’s crammed full with creepy amazing creatures and chase scenes, but at it’s heart beats a love story about the unlikely romance (and resulting baby) produced between the oddest couple since Nuv & I rubbed leather jackets eight or so years ago. The art is just as skillfully weird as the story demands and (stop the presses!) it is something Nuv and I both agree is killing it right now. Saga, pancakes and morning bj’s  - the foundation of any good marriage.

America’s Got Powers #1 by Jonathan Ross & Bryan Hitch

Imagine if reality TV was great again. No housewives, hacks or heroin addicts, just good old fashioned teenagers (juiced with super powers at birth by way of an outer space crystal) battling giant robots and each other? Sounds a little Hunger Games-ish but really, like Saga, at the heart of a big flashy story is something sweet and simple – one guy you’re meant to root for. A hero to emerge that has no powers that anybody thinks are worth exploiting. Little do they know…With Guided View on, this felt like a comic and a half. I will be back for seconds when issue #2 comes out.

WHAT I WATCHED
The Raid: Redemption

Saw the reeeeeDICULOUS trailer. Snagged advance tickets to the screening (thanks Golden Age!). Pretty much slap fought each other to annoyance before the lights even dimmed. The basic plot – cops go in to raid an apartment complex infested with criminals, at the top of which sits the smoothest criminal of them all. The plan – go in and get ‘em. The result – blood, swords and bullet holes. I am not a martial arts aficionado but Nuv and Jay, who have seen their fair share of unique kicked-in-the-nuts death scenes, hooted and hollered along with the rest of the packed theatre. There are a few fight scenes where I simultaneously held my breath, half-covered my eyes and reverse farted. Look out for the tiny man with damp wrestler’s hair that might be the toughest SOB on screen ever..

WHAT I HEARD
Kendrick Lamar & Dr. Dre – The Recipe

So catchy, so smooth, so intensely summer-rific that even our kid freezes then throws up a Public Enemy fist when we put this track on. A song that perfectly captures the appeal of the best state on the best coast, this will be the slo-mo get-high-and-make-a-baby song of the year.

WHAT I GORGED ON
Dates stuffed with cheese & wrapped in prosciutto

Girls as a gender feel the need to assemble on a regular basis to make sure that we still in fact like each other. (Boys can ignore each other for 10 years and then be the best man in each other’s weddings.) So, we gather monthly, a kid and food and stories in tow, to catch up and talk sh-t about sh-t. My girls are funny, inappropriate, cuddly and crazy foodies. One friend, Heather, consistently blows our minds with her appetizer reveals. This last visit was no exception.

While the big windows (and buses and birds and doggies below) babysat Stella, we gossiped and ate this: boursin cheese-stuffed dates, wrapped in prosciutto, slid under the broiler for 8 minutes then drizzled with pear balsamic vinegar. The sly salty crunch of the charred prosciutto followed by the sweet burst of date and creamy tang of cheese is really more than one mouth can handle. So, I had four. Chased down by red apple wine we were pretty hammered happy by the end of the night.

To good friends, and a great f-cking week!

Our cast & crew: Jay Haddow – first class wingman, purveyor of women’s belts and cameraman. Nuv Takhar – legendary insulter, drinker and bossy SOB. And me, missteenussr – the beautiful and mysterious journalist who dropped a small candy, heard it roll into the dark and waited anxiously all night for someone to slip and fall and die.

Invited by our pal/performer Jameson Parker and enticed by the promise/premise of original music by our other pal Anami Vice (who could create a sick beat from baby wails and a garbage truck backing up), we were pumped to see this “ad-rap-tation” of Shakespeare’s Comedy of Errors. The sign at the door promised 110 minutes with no intermission. The buzzing crowd promised an enthusiastic reception. Let’s do this.

Lights dim and the show jumped off with a Coles Notes catch-up of who’s who and what’s what. (This was mega handy for me, the multi-character-arc novice who needs to pause Game of Thrones every 5 minutes and ask out loud, “wait, who the f-ck is he?”) William Shakespeare was the original double-cross storyteller, quick with sick quips and lines, who loved mistaken identity more than mead and whores (I’m totally guessing here.) Turns out hip hop started out closer to Cambridge than Queensbridge.

This boogie down production came in four different flavours, known by the names of: the aforementioned Jameson Parker, Brian Cochrane, Niko Koupantsis & David A. Kaye. Explosive and crisp, the quartet ripped confidently through the opening stanzas in front of a beautifully simple set – a one piece backdrop of spray paint-tagged plywood. Manned by a mostly mute DJ Oker (who piped up and in with great timing when needed), it was perfect for sliding in and around and through and handily doubled as a residence, whorehouse and church. Costumes were slashed and splashed and unabashedly 80s/2012 ironic – with neon, zippers, high-tops and Dwayne Wayne sunglasses. All of a sudden the stage was indeed set for a (wicka-wicka-Willy Shakespeare) good time.

If there was a stumble, a fumble or misplacement of syllable, I didn’t catch it. Supportive and seemingly engrossed in each other’s lines, the cast stole the energy off each other, ate it, sh-t it, ate more, puked it back up (like a G-rated 2 girls, 1 cup) and ate it again, carrying each other through multiple scenarios, pseudonyms, fights, farces, breakdowns, breakups and break-dances. Cochrane was tall as timber, voice booming out across the room, with the range and chutzpah to pull off a lovesick dog, nun with a secret and a jovial Jew jeweler. Kaye, spry, loose and tight, pulled off the most densely written and paced dialogue of the night, and even slid into the crowd at one point to network with his net worth.

It wouldn’t be a Shakespearean adaptation if there weren’t hairy legs poking out from under a dress. Koupantsis’s Rosie Perez-inspired Luciana was pretty much the ill na-na of all time – I don’t think an actor with real T n A could have pulled her off better. Her ass shaking and arm waving was almost as amazing as his cop character, a spandex-clad mustachioed creep with a subtle taste for horse ass. Parker, tasked with portraying a beautiful straight man in a ridiculous wig, (and her indignant brow-beaten husband amongst others) was pitch perfect.

Over top of some amazing beats made by the effervescent A. Vice, the cast literally ran ragged through lip limbering lines, character changes and so many goddamn words it made your head both nod and spin. Let me repeat again: there are no breaks. Beat breaks – yes. A Rastafarian doctor and a sassy hooker – yes. 30 ways to describe taking a dump – yes. Time for the cast to take a breath, piss, or lozenge – no.

As a whole, the night is essentially best described with words used in energy drink commercials. Four guys putting on a full throttle, non-stop, high energy, balls to the wall (and shrink-wrapped in spandex) take no prisoners, eat your mom out performance, son. I don’t know when they had time to breathe.

This talented crew will be performing night after night (excluding Mondays) through till the 22nd of April. The Bomb-itty of Errors. Come show them some love before the bridge is over. (buh-duh-bye-bye.)

At 14 years young, my first studio session was the kind of thing I always dreamed of, as I spat raps from my endless notebook, thinkin’ I was the baddest motherf*cker since Shaft… until I heard the playback. Let’s just say the sound lacked, ummm… SACK. With my new posse impressed with any delivery that didn’t sound like an awkward cracka rappin’ in a mirror, I still felt somethin’ was missing. After the session we piled into a busted-ass little Mazda to go on a mission, as DJ Cash barked at me to grab a CD case wedged between us sardines in the backseat. He popped the disc into the system that was worth twice as much as the car, dialed it to track 5, and sh-t went down that would change my attitude towards rhymin’ for good.

“Booomp-BooWAAAAAH-Booomp…. BUCK’EMDOWN!buck’emdown!BUCK’EMDOWN!buck’emdown!BUCK’EMDOWN!!”

I officially lost my sh-t. The next week I got a hold of a hot Discman, the Enta Da Stage CD, and proceeded to try to deem myself the West Coast Buckshot Shorty. Twenty years later I finally got to thank him.

Fortune Sound Club was the spot, but there was a feeling in the air that it would officially be transformed into Fortune Bucktown at any moment, with so many possibilities of which of the Bootcamp militia would hit the stage first. Then the dark, deep buzz of bass came… “LET’S-LET’S GIT IT-GIT IT OOONNN!!!”

Smif-N-Wessun came barrelin’ out to the track that 18 years ago made them official, not just as Bootcamp representatives, but as the grimy answer to the randoms still wearin’ cartoon sh-t and doin’ the Roger Rabbit. They reminded the crowd why they SHOULD’VE been in a boxing ring for their video, instead of “LL Cool J’in’ it” cuz it looked cool. They brought the Bucktown thunder like they haven’t missed a show in years, even lookin’ like they haven’t stopped bangin’ stages. Either that, or they just stepped out of a DeLorean from times when rhymes were better cuz they were stank dirtaaay. In a time when M.C. ’s that mildly associate with hard-rocks feel the need to act hard on a singin’-ass track, they rained the surREAL. Even the pretty little hotties were gettin’ their mean mug on. Coincidentally, I was smilin’ like a schoolgirl at a Justin Gaga show.

As Sean Price took the forefront of the stage, some of us couldn’t help but feel like something was missing. It was no fault of Ruck (now known as Price), who would’ve been dope solo if he was never associated with Rock, (his partner in Heltah Skeltah) but that situation is what it is. Homeboy can still rap his ass off. Even though I kinda missed the cryptic back’n'forth those two huge bastards had in their heyday with Nocturnal, and classic kicks like “Bruvas betta wreckognize…” growled by the Rockness Monsta, Sean did remind us that even though Shaq was physically more dominant, Tim Duncan made his team better. I just wish Shaq was there to tear the rim off just once.

On that note, there’s manymanymany M.C.’s that have inspired me over the last 20 years… Chuck D, Shock G, Del, Mos Def, Meth, Em, the Fission. But no M.C. inspired me to represent the “little big man” like Buckshot Shorty. He went from one album that changed how confident underrated rappers rapped, to a Smif-N-Wesssun album that brought “east coast hard” back, from gangsta rap bein’ dominated by the West Coast, to inventing the idea of a “team” of groups formin’ like Voltron. And I finally got to be part of the West Coast showin’ a hip-hop icon long overdue propers.

With Jay Haddow flankin’ me, Buckshot showed and proved, takin’ us through the days of East Coast ghetto glory. As he went though his wheelhouse of back-in-the-day tracks that had me thinkin’ I was still wearin’ camo pants and Timbalands, he asked “Who got the props?” and “How many M.C.’s must get dissed?” and the answer was… Bootcamp… and all of them.

In a hip-hop world where the real is few and far between, I’m grateful that there’s still a place that old school can Enta Tha Stage. As a wise man once said… “Leflaur Leflah Eshkoshka.”

– A.T.

Mo’ Motherfuckin’ Photos by Jay Haddow!