I went into work this morning at Warehouse Live, expecting the usual – setting up and sitting through mediocre bands for a

shit wage. And, for the most part, I was right. They had 7 shitty, completely generic bands battling in a competition where

the winner gets to go play some jerk-off national music festival in Tennessee. Halfway through the day, after the all the

bands had got there and unloaded their gear, this beat up old car pulls up outside the back door. The backseat had been

gutted out to fit a huge raggedy-ass looking speaker box and an amp. This weird looking black dude with a fly ass fro steps

out and scopes the place out. Being my job to help him unload his crap in some corner backstage, I introduced myself and

helped him drag the speaker cab out of his back seat, and I asked him what band he was with and he said he wasn’t with any of

the bands, he was going onstage after the battle of the bands was over and before they announced the winner. I queried, and

he said his name was B L A C K I E (all caps with spaces) and he played hardcore rap. Fuck, I thought to myself, this day

just got even worse. If you can’t tell, my taste in music is pretty close-minded and narrowed down to anarcho-punk rock and

some grind and some metal. I hate rap. And I was sure I would hate this guy. He looked funny, he was socially awkward and

didn’t articulate when he spoke (which wasn’t often). And he was a rapper.

Fast forward to the end of the night. The last band just got done playing their generic radio rock bullshit, and I started

packing up equipment and coiling up cables on the stage. B L A C K I E drags his speaker box up on the stage, hooks it in to

his amp and plugs up a little beatbox that he had recorded some of his beats onto. Turns it on, grabs a mic…then jumps

right off the stage and starts spitting some serious fucking antiestablishment lyrics with perfect articulation. Within

seconds the first circle pit of the night – hell, the first even attempted moshing of the night – is formed around him. He

starts just going right the fuck off, moshing with the crowd…the energy was fucking incredible. I could not describe to you

in a way that would not sound retarded the way he just totally puts his entire heart and soul into his performance. But he

did. And it wasn’t retarded. It was fucking amazing. After standing there on the stage for a while, just totally dumbstruck

and mesmerized by this guy, I jumped down into the mosh pit, which had definintely picked up – even the chicks were moshing.

Hard, too. It more than made up for having to sit through all of the shitty bands before him.

My appreciation for this man’s music shocked me, and I felt like all of a sudden my worldview was revolutionized. I realize

now that it doesn’t matter what genre of music (if any exists to describe what I experienced tonight) you play, as long as

you play it for the right reasons, it is still something to be respected. And B L A C K I E has my utmost respect. The man is

totally DIY (I found out later he even built that speaker cab himself with parts he got off ebay), and speaks truths that

spread intelligence. He becomes one with the crowd in a way that I’ve never seen and just rips everybody’s face right the

fuck off. He’s the punkest motherfucker I’ve ever met, and he’s not even a punk. His music is something that is truly his

own, and I know that nobody will ever take it from him.