Words from the wise

Michael Capra, better known to fans as Foul Mouth Jerk, has been a part of Asheville’s hip-hop scene since the late ’90s. As difficult as it can be for rappers to make a name for themselves in the city today, it was often even harder in the past, when hip-hop couldn’t shake its reputation for inciting violence. As a member of Gurp City South and Granola Funk Express, Foul Mouth Jerk stands as one of Asheville hip-hop’s forefathers, a testament to perseverance in the face of an uninviting music community. “When I was starting out in Asheville, there was no hip-hop scene,” Capra says. “The only rapper doing it live in town besides GFE was MC Huggs, and no clubs in town would allow rap acts on their stages. We had to build a following street performing, doing house parties with cats like DJ Rayvis (now Ray Mak) in people’s basements and such. Then we started getting spots on pirate radio and playing our own recordings and dirt hustling lo-fi four-track tapes. Eventually, we got some guest spots with non-hip-hop acts that liked what we were doing and let us rap with them for a song or two at their shows. That led to a couple clubs finally letting us get our own shows, and things built from there.” Although hip-hop finds a more welcoming response in Asheville these days, rappers still have a lot of pressure placed on them to hone their craft in order to stand out. Foul Mouth Jerk has a few pointers for local artists looking to achieve the kind of longevity he has attained. “If I have any advice, it’s just to work crazy hard, build relationships and carve out your own lane,” he says. “Learn how to do publicity and promotion, booking and recording. And put on a kickass live show. And stop rapping over your own vocal tracks at the show — that shit sucks.” — MM

Multiplatinum Canadian hip-hop artist Drake likes to brag about how he started from the bottom. But for Drake, the “bottom” meant starring in Degrassi: The Next Generation and releasing mix tapes produced by Pharrell Williams and Kanye West.

Asheville’s music scene harbors an eclectic blend of electronic soundscapes, world music fusions and minimalist experimentation, but when it comes to hip-hop, the local scene has had trouble breaking out of the underground — the bottom, if you will. And whether local or not, hip-hop has been only marginally represented in large-scale music events in the area, such as Bele Chere and Mountain Oasis. A long-standing fear of violence at shows kept local rappers out of prominent clubs for years and still sometimes impedes these artists’ progress.

Despite all the obstacles, however, the Asheville hip-hop scene is packed with talented, ambitious rappers, producers and promoters possessing an unyielding passion for their art form. Most have lived in the area their whole lives, shedding immature delusions of grandeur for serious vision as they’ve honed their craft. Now, their hard work has begun to pay off as the stars align so local hip-hop can finally start getting the attention it deserves.

Veteran rookies

In the world of sneakers, “dead stock” refers to shoes a company purposely sets aside in mint condition so it can sell them years later for greater profit as a vintage item. When local rapper Hard Knox formed Deadstock Clique about a year ago, he used the concept as inspiration for assembling an elite crew of local rappers.

“I came up with the name, the whole swag, the concept of the whole Asheville music scene being so crazy and there being so much talent,” he explains. “Dead stock clothing is any brand or any item that comes out and gets put in a warehouse. That’s how I feel like we’ve been — just put in a warehouse, and now it’s time to bring that back out. We’re just a lot more expensive now.”

Deadstock Clique was “warehoused,” so to speak, because both Hard Knox and fellow band member Davaion “Big Dave” Bristol did prison stints for nonviolent, drug-related crimes. Hard Knox was released in 2010 and Bristol early in 2012. The time behind bars gave both of them a chance to reflect on getting serious about music.

“We’re a lot older than a lot of the guys who are out there trying to rap right now. We’re all in our 30s, or close to it, so that kind of sets us apart,” says Bristol. “We’ve got a different viewpoint on life because we’re a little older; we’ve had a few more life experiences. We might see the same thing, but because of the way we came up, we see it differently.”

Accordingly, both artists view Deadstock Clique as a much more serious project than their previous flirtations with hip-hop. Rounding out the group are local emcees A.R. Banks, T. Hugs Steel, Alpha Lee and Martin Snoddy; they all share a vision for expanding the Deadstock brand and conquering Asheville and the world beyond through their music.

“Some guys are like, ‘I just do it for the love.’ I love hip-hop, but I see that it’s an opportunity — that I’ve been given a blessing with a talent and a vision,” says Bristol. “Why just make music in a bedroom? Hip-hop’s been a business from the beginning. I don’t think there are any barriers to what we can do.”

Hard Knox says Deadstock Clique members have been careful not to rush the group’s development. The collective worked on tunes and on defining their brand for five or six months before releasing any songs or even putting their name out. Most of them remember when getting hip-hop shows in Asheville was next to impossible, so they understand that a little professionalism goes a long way toward establishing themselves in the scene.

“I sleep two or three hours a day. I’m constantly on the Internet, constantly finding new ways to progress the brand,” Hard Knox says. “It’s like for the last year we’ve just been building the brand and making sure we have some solid foundation. Now it’s time to get the people behind us.”

With ventures like Bristol’s “Open Door Radio Show” (which he runs with his brother Heath on Asheville Free Media) and his promotions company, Out Tha Gutta Entertainment, the group has made strides toward hyping itself — and the entire Asheville hip-hop scene. The group recently rented out a space it has converted into a small studio to record the band’s own projects and those of other local rappers.

Heath Bristol jokes that because some members had to take a step back and re-evaluate how to tackle the rap game after their time in prison, Deadstock Clique is made up of veteran rookies eager to take their music more seriously than ever before.

“Deadstock started off with the music, but it’s kind of like everything’s starting to branch out. We’re starting businesses and coming up with other ideas,” notes Hard Knox. “I guess a lot of people like to say the whole swag or style of things — the way we come across, the way we are in public — people want to be a part of that. … If you listen to our music and you ride to it, you feel like you’re a part of Deadstock.”