The Rock Steady Crew’s 26th Anniversary Gala

The Rock Steady Crew's 26th Anniversary Gala


Q-Unique (The Rock Steady Rhymer).
Easy Roc
Fabel and Mr. Wiggles

The Rock Steady Crew celebrated its 26th year of spinning, locking, popping and jaw-dropping by throwing a grand NYC bash in which all elements of hip-hop culture were in florid display. Spread out over four consecutive days and multiple downtown Manhattan venues, the gala was a combination of basketball tournament, film festival, fashion show, B-boy/B-girl battle, rap performances by open mikers and pros alike, spontaneous and crafted graffiti outbursts, dazzling DJ demonstrations, and an electrifying routine by the RSC themselves. If you know anything about B-boying/B-girling (later called “breakdancing”), then odds are you’ve seen members of the Rock Steady Crew, the oldest and longest surviving B-B/G crew in the world, strut their stuff over the years. Their names are enough to spark the imagination: Crazy Legs, Frosty Freeze, Mr. Wiggles, Take One, Lenny Len. And even if you don’t know a dang thing about breakin’, odds are you’ve still seen them wiggle, pop, backspin and careen, whether it be in a music video, clothing commercial or movie (please, don’t try to play and say you never saw Flashdance). And if not them directly, then perhaps their longtime cohorts/rivals, the New York City Breakers, or some other (pardon the pun) spin-off crew or kid twirling on their head like a human top, an international language for many millions, somewhere in the world. Though breakdancing’s ubiquity may be no shock today, back in 1977– when the RSC was formed by Bronx B-boys Jimmy D and JoJo — a freakish spectacle it certainly was. Sprung from the creativity of teenagers and young adults with nothing better to do during that summer swelter that only magnified off the cement of the projects, B-boying was propelled by the block party DJ, the need to dance and, in an area where gangs were omnipresent, impress. Instead of gangs, crews were formed. Guns and knives were replaced by dance moves hyper and elastic. Eventually, just as with skateboarding, the underground became commercial, the local became international and the rest is, well, history. The Rock Steady Crew began their anniversary party in 1991 to celebrate the evolution of all aspects of hip hop culture, as well as to pay tribute to past members who have passed or fallen on hard times. More than a crew now, they are an official company, with all the corporate trappings of president, vice-presidents, etc. Yet, as evidenced by this celebration, the RSC have not lost their sense of community. Furthermore, Crazy Legs (the president) is the only original member who still regularly performs. Over the years, they have kept the flame alive by taking on a dynamic range of new members, male and female. But if you really want to see the original RSC in their dancing prime (as well as many others) then you must see The Freshest Kids. Released late last year, this incredible documentary about the creation and rise of the B-boy and B-girl capped the excellent film festival portion of the RSC’s anniversary party (and was co-sponsored by H20, who will hold an international hip hop film festival in November). This 90-minute adventure, produced by Quincy Jones and directed by Israel, thoroughly chronicles the B-boy/girl scene, and makes the strong case that it was breakdancing that boosted rap into the hip hop limelight of public consciousness. So much material is included, from its beginnings on the Bronx streets via block parties thrown by the likes of Kool Herc and Afrika Bambaataa, to the legendary 1981 battle between the RSC and the Dynamic Rockers held outdoors at Lincoln Center (and captured in pictures by National Geographic); from B-boys/girls busting at Club Negril, to the movies (Wild Style, Flashdance, Beat Street, Electric Boogaloo) and the NYC Breakers on weekly TV; from West Coast vs. East Coast crews and the invention and naming of new moves, to its eclipse by rap and the deaths of many of the original pioneers; from the branding of a worldwide lifestyle to its elevation as a sport. In sum, a new way to identify is born. As an old school B-boy says in the film, “If a person can’t handle themselves in a battle, then they don’t deserve to call themselves a B-boy.” Wondering how today’s B-boy/girls were handling themselves in battles, I ventured uptown to the spacious Manhattan Center. I don’t see too many teenagers scuffing themselves up on the asphalt via a vicious airplane maneuver these days. Hence, walking in on the scene taking place was pure nostalgic joy. A revved up “It’s Just Begun” blasted from the speaker stacks as hundreds of B-boys and B-girls formed several circles, some tight, some wide, on an expansive wooden dance floor raised from the carpet, executing complicated and feisty moves that dared anyone to stutter-step into the cipher. The scene was refreshing, teens of many ethnic backgrounds and sizes bustin’ a move to the fluid Dj-ing of Evil D, who brought forth jam after funky jam from high atop an arched booth that was grafittied like an old ghost of a #6 subway car. The scheduled fashion show apparently had ended but the show of fashion adorned by the breakers was a unique blend of retro and chic, from simply stenciled T-shirts and parachute pants professing allegiance to a crew (e.g. Zulu Kings), to elaborately sequined bandanas and graffiti baseball caps. The two-on-two B-boy/girl battle was an invitation-only affair, bringing 10 pairs from across North America. When it was time to battle, everyone formed a circle around the edges of the floor. Judges (including Crazy Legs, who hobbled around on a strained calf) sat forefront, discussing for a few moments their opinions after each battle, after which the result was written on chart paper with a marker (yes, very informal). The winner was then announced after the following battle. Music was provided not by a DJ but by the funky five-piece band, Butta, who sped up the breaks of classic ’70s break anthems. Criteria was partly based on audience response and choreographed routine over three rounds, though the first unpopular verdict was responsible for eliminating the only B-girl duo, Toronto’s Ms. Mighty and Blazin’, who had loads of both. They lost to eventual finalists, NYC’s Ajax and Buckingham, who would meet brothers Macho and Bebo from Boston’s Ground FX crew two days later for the crown. All battles were tightly contested, attitude and enthusiasm thick, athleticism and style in full effect. Popping and locking, surprisingly, seemed to be on the backburner; most energy was spent in the shuffle or on the back. The next day, however, proved that popping, locking, ticking and hitting were alive and well, as the RSC festivities continued at Pier 54 along the Hudson River. The turnout was huge, well into the thousands on a blazing afternoon, probably due to its price tag: nada. It was a combination of mega block party and commercial event, where hordes of MCs and DJs hustled their own mixes and T-shirts, and vendors pushed soul food, Sprite and “official” graffiti posters. Rappers were the stars of the six hour show, particularly of the semi-underground ilk, and though strong flows oozed from the likes of Killah Priest and Non-Phixion, blustery winds and rotten acoustics snuffed much of the energy. The highlights were in the improvised strutting of the B-boys and B-girls, who formed dozens of circles to showcase their moves. A few brought their own linoleum strips whereas others simply went bareback, shredding their callused wares on the asphalt. The slowed down beats of the rappers’ sets brought the robotic moves out, old and new, defying the prescribed natural movements one’s joints and limbs are seemingly capable of. And when the rappers would stop, the dancers paid no mind. They simply continued twisting and locking to their own rhythms, the silent beats aided by the “oohs” and “aahs” of each circle. The next day, back at the Manhattan Center, the final leg of this gala was the icing on the 26 candled cake, combining known rappers, DJs and the finals of the B-boy battle. Given the quality of the bill, the turnout could have been much, much better; the $25 sticker-price surely kept many youngsters away. Rappers Spectac and the Extended Famm posse held their own with the mic; Wyclef freestyled a capella; turntabalists 5th Platoon (especially Kuttin’ Kandi) spun acrobatics on the wheels of steel; members from classic groups such as the Treacherous Three, Furious Five, Cold Crush Brothers, as well as Melle Mel, flexed their old school muscles and proved their mic skills still relevant; an animated Keith Murray illustrated Def Jam’s big mistake by recently dropping him; the indomitable Rahzel and DJ JS1 represented the beat box contingent by blowing mad bass; and Brand Nubian slipped in a few songs before the building’s union pulled the plug. Tony Touch, Evil D and DJ Red Alert’s mixes from the booth kept dancers and ciphers busy between sets. The highlight, however, was the finals between Ajax & Buckingham and Macho & Bebo, which took place on the elevated stage. It lasted five rounds, though it was evident after the first who would be destined for the $1000 championship. The 24-year-old Macho and his 17-year-old brother Bebo wooed the crowd and the judges with their acrobatics, synchronized choreography and outright flair. The half-pint Bebo (who when not dancing is “doing homework”) iced the contest when he executed a momentous upside down L-shaped freeze which first left everyone gasping, then clamoring for more. Later on, the Rock Steady Crew showed why they are still an inspiration for countless B-boys and B-girls across the world, as they put on a choreographed set which mixed breakers and poppers, male and female, a celebration of a culture that resounds with creativity and meaning and is still, by all accounts, phresh.