Back in 2006, a guy knocked on the door to the recording studio I owned at the time. He was white, in his mid-thirties, built like a marine with a tapered hair cut.

“I have some musical equipment I’m looking to sell,” he said. “You interested?”

“What do you have?” I replied.

We walked out to his car, where his girlfriend was sitting in the passenger seat, staring out the window and chewing gum.

He popped the trunk and it felt like one of those cartoons where someone opens up a treasure chest and a beaming ray of light comes shining out, blinding everyone with its glare.

“Wow,” I remarked, glancing at what was inside.

Sitting there, like a pirate’s long-lost booty, was an Emu SP-1200 drum machine.

To the average person, this would mean absolutely nothing, but to a hip-hop music producer, they would recognize this as one of the most iconic and celebrated electronic instruments ever invented.

An 80s-era relic, the SP-1200 drum machine, often paired with an Akai S-950 sampler, was the production set-up of choice for guys like Pete Rock, Marley Marl and the Beatminerz. Some of the best rap albums of all time were made with it.

I didn’t hesitate to ask— “How much?”

“Give me a thousand bucks,” he said. “And I’ll throw in an Akai S-950 and a mixing desk, too.”

There had to be a catch. All this for a thousand bucks? This guy was either a crackhead or he was crazy.

“Okay,” I said. “You’ve got a deal.”

“But wait,” he hesitated. “Hold on.”

I knew something was up.

“See, the thing is,” he muttered. “I’m not really sure if the SP-1200 works anymore. I’ll leave it with you. Mess with it. If it works, we can do this. If not, I’ll take it back. I don’t want to hustle you.”

I appreciated his honesty— this ruled out my crackhead theory— then wanted to know why he was even selling this stuff in the first place. An SP-1200 on eBay right now will cost you more than $2,500.

“I’m leaving for the army in a few days,” he said. “You know Mark Wahlberg, the actor, right? He used to rap. Marky Mark. I produced a bunch of stuff for him with this stuff, but as you can see, I don’t have any use for it now.”

Of course I knew who Marky Mark was. “Good Vibrations.” “Wild Side.” These are hip-hop classics and obviously some of the most important records in the genre’s history. [Editor’s note: he’s being sarcastic.]

I took the equipment out of his car into my studio, powered everything up and began fooling around with some sounds he gave me.

The drums sounded big and chunky; warm, like only something with 12-bit analog converters could deliver.

But the thing really was broken.

It could load sounds off of disks—big, floppy disks, the kind you used to use to play Oregon Trail with in public school—but the audio input, where you connect a device to sample something, was busted.

Consequently, everything I sampled was covered in static, white noise. I’d never be the next Pete Rock with this.

I called the guy back up, told him I didn’t feel right about buying the broken SP-1200, and that the deal was off.

He came by, picked up his stuff and drove away. I don’t know if he was angry about it, but I never saw him again and I never really got to use an SP-1200.