Kool Herc

Father of hip hop

Interviewed by Frank in the Bronx, September 30, 1998

Given what the world created from his unique party style of DJing, Clive Campbell, aka DJ Kool Herc is a truly mythic figure. By stringing a series of funk breaks together back to back, rather than playing the records in full, he was the DJ who gave birth to hip hop. His other masterstroke was to play for young kids rather than their parents, tapping in to the moves of the era’s teenage breakdancers. Born in Trenchtown, Herc came to the US bringing memories of Jamaican sound system culture to bear on a west Bronx bubbling with energy.

Herc arrives in a beat-up black Lincoln Town Car that looks like a Brooklyn dollar cab. His passenger Rodney Cee, now missing a few front teeth but once one of Herc’s rap crew, is waiting for a ride to Harlem. Herc walks back from the payphone, he’s huge, maybe six foot eight and has trouble squeezing his legs in under the steering wheel. Almost right away he talks about how he never got either recognition or money from his innovations. His accent still has a lilt of Jamaica. Perhaps he should be a little more publicity friendly; today few people even know he’s alive. He argues with this, then agrees. Driving up the West Side Highway, through Harlem and then up Jerome Avenue in the Bronx, the interview turns into a mystery tour of the clubs he rocked in his youth. Curiously though, the first thing on his mind is how drum and bass style dancing keeps you from getting nasty with the ladies.

Not all that jumpin’ around, hoppin’ around. I can’t fuck with it. The closest I can come to it would be the bounce. I hate to see a good piece of ass and I can’t get near it. My music, I keep the freak alive with me. I would dance with four or five different girls in one record. Till I find that motherfucker and I spin that ass around on me. But you know what? I hear undertones in that music. I hear some of my music.

Because it’s breakbeats, fast breakbeats.

There it is! Exactly. Exactly, you see. I should be around it, to where I can put my spin on it.

You should try and work with some of these guys.

I would like to. I could stay there [in the UK] a good fuckin’ six months man. With some shows lined up so I’m payin’ my own way. I got crazy shit man. Nobody would fuck with me.

There’s a lot of people that would work with you but they don’t know you’re around.

I know. Queen Latifah, when I met her, she said, ‘I heard you died.’

You did do some work with the Chemical Brothers.

I’m on their album, but they muffled my shit on there. But it’s me. I was up in England. I was on the Tim Westwood show, and he was acting all funny.

What year did you come to New York?

I came here in ’67. I was 13.

So you remember your time in Jamaica?

Oh yeah, Very well. I remember Jamacian independence. I remember when the Queen Mother came. I remember when Emperor Haile Salassie came there.

How was that?

Lovely, lovely. All the rastas came out of the hills. They never seen so much rastas in all their fuckin’ life in Jamaica. Camped out, ran on the tarmac. Met the plane. When Selassie came to the plane window he turned back in and started cryin’. He didn’t know people was worshipping him like that.

How did he deal with it?

He tried his best. He didn’t speak too much English either.

Where did you live in Jamaica?

I was young, my first neighbourhood I live in is Trenchtown. Bob Marley used to live there. He used to live on First Street. I lived on Second Street around by a theatre called the Ambassador Theatre. Right now they say grass grows in the streets there.

Do you go back there?

I haven’t been back in years. My father died and it took something out of me.

He was still in Jamaica?

No he came here but he was going back and forth. He caught a seizure in the water and people didn’t rescue him out of the water.

What did he used to do?

Top notch mechanic. In Jamaica used to work in this Newport West, fixed the high lifts, the fork lifts. When he came here he started to work at Clarks equipment company, out in Queens.

So do you remember the sound systems out in Jamaica?

Yeah. There was a dancehall near where I lived, up in Franklyn town. We used to be playing at marbles and riding our skateboards, used to see the guys bringing the big boxes inside of the handcarts. And before that a guy used to put up watercolour signs on lightposts, let people know there’s going to be a dance coming. And the whole yard would be concrete, and there’d be a high fence. So you can’t see in.

Which were the sounds that played where you were?

I didn’t know the name of the sound system. I wasn’t too much into it. But this guy named George. Used to call him King George or Big George, used to bring his set there.

Do you remember any of the parties in particular?

I couldn’t get in. Couldn’t get in. I was 10, 11 years old.

They don’t let kids in?

Nah nah. It’s a liquor thing. And guys burning weed there and shit. If I was 17, 18, I would have definitely been up in it.

So what are the kids doing? Hanging out?

Hanging Out. We on our skateboards, skating round, you know, and you saw the little gangster kids, and they knew who’s who from the gangs, the bad bwoys. And they see all the big reputation people come through. We’re little kids, but their reputation, precedes them. So the dance would bring them out. And we sit on the side and watch, ‘Oh shit, that’s such and such.’ Little did I know that would be a big influence on me.

Did you ever think you’d end up doing that?

No. But when I got here I see a lot of abandoned cars and TVs. And I set up all in it and I take out the speakers and make my own little boxes for my room. Yeah, you know and it just started to progress from there.

So you were making your own equipment?

Yeah, my own little boxes. I start to get involved more with a working lifestyle. At the time people couldn’t understand what I was saying ’cos I had a heavy Jamaican accent. I was on the ‘Yeh man, Yeh man.’ And they was places called Murphy Projects, which is like a recreation room where they used to give parties once a month. Right by the Cross Bronx Expressway. About a block off Third Avenue.

These were parties you used to go to?

Yeah, go to see how the kids dance, see how they talked.

What were the parties like?

They were playing contemporary stuff. Kool and The Gang, Isley Brothers stuff.

So what year is that?

We talking about say ’69. 1969.

When did you start to get involved?

I started to get involved in it right after my house got burnt down. And I was going to parties back then, see. A place called The Puzzle. That was the first Bronx disco. Right on 161st St up near the train station there. This was the first disco I used to party at, called The Puzzle.

“  People was dancing, but they wasn’t calling it B-boying. There was just the break, and people would go off. ”

Who was the DJ?

Never saw him. They was in a room. Used to have me, guys like Phase II, Stay High, Sweet Duke, Lionel 163, all the early graffiti writers used to come through here. This is where we used to meet up and party at: The Puzzle and The Tunnel. That was back – say ’69, ’70. Then years later, down the block from it, this club right here, was called Disco Fever. Disco Fever used to be right here on 167th and Jerome.

That was where it was? Now it’s a shoe store. Who DJed at Disco Fever?

Right there. Junebug and a guy named Sweet G.

What happened to those guys?

Junebug got killed. He was murdered. After that, a guy named Starchild, had the contract of playing up in there. I played up there once, for Junebug’s birthday.

So back then you still weren’t playing?

I was dancin’, I was partying. I was partying. Right around ’70…

That was when B-boying was starting!

Yeah, people was dancing, but they wasn’t calling it B-boying. There was just the break, and people would go off. The term B-boying came in after I started to play, and I called them B-boys. Guys used to just breakdance, used to break it down.

When did you start playing. What made you start playing records?

This guy John Brown used to play at The Tunnel. Used to play music and I’m dancing with this girl trying to get my shit off, and he used to fuck up. And the whole party, they be like, ‘Y’ahhh, what the fuck is that…? Why you took it off there? The shit was about to explode. I was about to bust a nut’. You know. And the girl be like, ‘Damn, what the fuck is wrong?’ And I’m hearing his mistakes and I’m griping too. ‘Cos he’s fucking my groove up.

The DJ was taking the song off at the wrong place?

Yeah, yeah, you know. So that stayed in my head. You know, I’m a dance person. I like to party. I used to come home and my whole clothes was soaking wet. I had to tell my mother… ‘Where you going with my towel?’ And I be, ‘Ma, It gets like that up in there!’ Sweat Box. Down.

That was what the atmosphere was like, Everyone just getting down?

Partying partying.

What were the clubs like inside?

Huge. Probably gonna hold a good 4-500 hundred people.

Decorations?

Not too much. Not too much disco lights. All they had was a strobe light, and the little exit lights where you come in from the door. It’s dark! Not too dark. It’s light but it was a low-key light.

When did you start playing?

My stink started to kick up in ’71. When I started playing is say 1970, late ’70, early ’71. That’s when the gangs rolled in, the gangs popped up and them. Start fucking people up, going to parties, start robbin’ them, fuckin’ with their girls and shit.

That wasn’t happening before then?

No.

“  After I who have entered through this door, and certain places such as the Executive Playhouse should be known as a car park… So it is, baby! ”

How come that started happening?

Gangs man, they need a place to belong. See what I’m sayin. Punks get into gangs to be a part of something. Some people just ain’t shit without being in a crowd. Some guys in the gang are serious about their shit. This is the place called The Executive Playhouse. Years later I played here.

This empty lot?

This empty lot. As I was saying [he delivers this as a booming pronouncement]: After I who have entered through this door and certain places such as the Executive Playhouse should be known as a car park… So it is, baby! After I who have entered through this door, DJ Kool Herc, no-one else shall enter, certain places like the Hevalo, should remain a car lot, so it is baby!

That’s how it is. This is Jerome Avenue. Right here off the Cross Bronx Expressway at Mount Eden, this was the Executive Playhouse. This was the spot that gave me a lot of playing time when I was first started playing a room.

This is where you first played?

No. This ain’t where I first played.

Where was that?

Over on Sedgwick Avenue.

You remember how it happened?

Yeah. Oh yeah. My sister had a Youth Corps job and she was going back to school and she wanted her some clothes money, she wanted to invest some of her money on more money and she gave a party. And she asked me to play the music. And I was there into my graffiti work, and that’s where I graduated from the walls to the turntables.

And you’d been buying records anyway?

Yeah, I had records. I had records.

And how was the night, Do you remember?

Lovely Lovely. Charged 25¢ for girls, 50¢ for fellas, 50¢ for sodas, 75¢ for franks. And beer, beer was a dollar.

And what did she buy with it?

She bought clothes. She went back to school fly.

So you got a taste of it.

Oh yeah.

You loved it.

Oh yeah. This is me at the helm now. I had the attitude of the dancefloor behind the turntables. Come up from the peoples’ choice.

Because you’re a dancer.

Exactly. You know.

Where were you doing parties?

Recreation room. Back in the recreation room. Till I got too big. Then, up the block.

Where was the recreation room?

1520 Sedgwick Avenue. It was for people in the building, downstairs, for anybody having a birthday party, wedding reception, tenant meeting and all that. You could rent it out for $25.

How long did you do those parties.

Off and on. It wasn’t an everyday thing. It wasn’t an every weekend thing, They wasn’t having it. Once a month or once every two months.

And what are you doing the rest of the time?

Going to school. Going to school.

1970 you were in highschool?

Coming into high school.

So you’re real young to be DJing

Oh yeah, oh yeah.

So how were you playing back then. You said you were pissed off with the way other DJs treated the records?

I would give people what I know they wanted to hear. I’d give it to ’em. And introducing them to new music. At the same time playing some slow music for a while. A lot of guys like to get their shit on. I’m a guy that plays slow music. I don’t give a fuck how hard the party’s rockin’, I’ll slow it down. I have my shit in stages. I play music in stages.

What were your big records back then?

My big record back then, and nobody had it then, was James Brown, ‘Give It Up And Turnit A Loose’. And a couple of records I used to play from the other clubs and as it went on I got ‘The Mexican’ [by Babe Ruth], I got ‘Bongo Rock’ [by Incredible Bongo Band], you name them, ‘It’s Just Begun’ [by Jimmy Castor Bunch]. They used to rock that at the Tunnel and The Puzzle.

Then I gave a block party, and we couldn’t come back to the recreation room. So I found a place over here called the Twilight Zone. This was my first place of mass production. Giving parties. Away from the recreation room, was right here on Jerome Avenue, between Tremont and Burnside. The Twilight Zone.

And what was that like?

Lovely. I used to show fights up in there. I had a super-8 projector, and I’d show fights and little movies. And up the block was a place called Soulsville, but they changed the name to the Hevalo. And that was an established club. That club gave me my first break of playing week after week. ’Cos Twilight Zone I only could rent it once in a while.

[Herc parks the car again and walks into an open doorway. He climbs up some rickety stairs, with metal plates holding the beat-up wood together. It’s a factory where ‘no habla Ingles’ Spanish guys are putting new covers on stained old mattresses. Mattresses old and ‘new’ are stacked to the ceiling.] …the Zodiac

This was a club? The Zodiac?

Right, yeah. [A nostalgic Herc asks permission from the owner to look around] Who the boss? Hi, how you doing sir. I used to play upstairs many years ago as a club. [The lady says some Spanish… Bossman shakes his head. She translates: ‘He says it’s just a store upstairs.’]We just want to look. [more Spanish: ‘For what?’] I used to be the DJ many years ago. [She translates and it’s okay.]

Some ghosts in here then?

Some ghosts gonna be up here right. [Smoochy Puerto Rican music plays, Herc says to one of the mattress-workers:] A long time ago I used to play music in here. Habla Ingles? This was a club, man.

Where was the booth?

You can’t see it, it was in the back. This was the dancefloor.

And now every mattress in New York is here.

This was it. [Back in the street he points out all the clubs in spitting distance of each other.]

This whole street must have been rocking!

This block, Jerome Avenue. This is Herc Avenue really. I dominated this. This, this was the Hevalo. Now it’s a car park.

What year did you start playing here?

The good old year here was ’75, ’76.

When did you start?

’74, ’75. I was still doing my shit down here, and then late ’74, late ’74 and ’75 I started playing between here and the Executive Playhouse. I got off the train with my girlfriend to see a sign ‘Under New Management’ I said shit, let’s find what’s going on. So I went in I said ‘I’m a DJ and I want to play up in here.’ And they got a guy used to call himself the Amazing Bert. This guy had some monster stuff. He had good equipment, but he had no skills. I had skills but I had no equipment. But he disappeared and I started buying his equipment.

Back then a DJ brought his own sound equipment to a club?

Yeah. They used to have bands. Around when I started was when the elimination of bands started. Why give a band $600 if you could give a guy $150? You would have to pay seven guys and seven guys might want $100 a head. And how much they gonna drink? All of that. So they called me and I was just building my equipment but they didn’t know I had a reputation. I already got experience for playing for kids; now I’m playing for adults.

It was really different?

Oh yeah.

What would you play for the kids?

Most of the James Brown, Jimmy Castor, they would… [he’s dancing breaker style in the street] …you’re not gonna have 35, 40 year-old people doing that. Whole different rotation. So I’m playing for them and rockin’ their ass. Some bands still used to come up in there now, and I’d play intermission, in the break. But when they didn’t have a band I used to play all night.

Then this place burnt down and I started giving parties back over here, at The Twilight Zone. And every time I would play out somewhere else I would come back and I’d bought another piece of the guy’s equipment. And it was top-notch shit.

So you bought all this guy’s equipment?

I’m building my shit there. I’m rolling with the big Mac. The big Mac, that cost like say $1600. A McIintosh amplifier, a 2300 Mac, the biggest there is, the top of the line. He had a GLI mixer, he had the disco fours, and he had not one McIntosh 2300, he had two of them. And he had two Voice of the Theaters. This system sounded like a band. People used to come just to hear the sound, they didn’t give a fuck what he was playing. What was coming through. It was crisp, you was hearing it. You could be on the Expressway and be hearing this shit.

What turntables did you use?

The Thorens was still top of the line but I didn’t like the Thorens turntable. The Technics was just coming out. My model, the 1100A just came out. So I went Technic. I went 1100A. But that turntable, they stopped making it. It wasn’t that it was no good, just too expensive. So they pulled it off and put something more durable, and inexpensive with the 1200 shit. I don’t fuck with the 1200s. I still got my 1100As, and I wish they would bring them back.

What’s the difference?

They got a higher pitch. So spinning back is more easier for me. And weight.

So you’d been doing parties all over the place, and you started to get a name for yourself.

Oh yes. We running this fucking Bronx. You couldn’t throw a party on my night. I had guys had to change their dates if they found out I’m throwing a party on the same night.

What year is this?

I’m at the height right now, ’75, ’76. You can’t fuck with us. You can’t, you just got to deal with us.

When did you start playing the breaks?

Different people come there and dance to different types of music. I’m catering to each and every set of people there. Well the break thing happened because I was seeing everybody on the sidelines waiting for particular breaks in the records.

People used to do that?

Yeah. People used to wait. I’m observing them. I wasn’t just thinking about my technical shit. I’m watching the crowd. Seeing who’s up in my place, watching if there’s a argument that could escalate into a fight. I gotta see if things running smooth. I said let me put a couple of these records together, that got breaks in them. I did it. boom bom-bom-bom. I try to make it sound like a record. Place went berserk. Loved it.

What was the record?

‘Funky Music Is The Thing’ by the Dynamic Corvettes, the ‘Clap your hands, stomp your feet’ part of James Brown’s ‘Give It Up And Turnit A Loose’, part of The Isley Brothers’ ‘Get Into Something’ and ‘Bra’ by Cymande. Took off!

What was your inspiration?

From watching the crowd. Remember, that’s where I come from. I come from the dancehall, I can’t let them down. I can’t fool around and play no wack shit. I’m watching them: the more they’re having fun, the more I get busy. I told em: ‘I’m a put some things together and I want y’all to check it out.’ And I’m a call it the Merry Go Round. See I got to hop on. Once I hear it, I’m not comin’ back. I’m gonna go forward. And so I did it, and they loved it.

So how would your set be. You’d play regular records and then a section of breaks?

Yeah. There’s some records everybody’s gonna get with. So I’d get the crowd going with that. Then I’d just go into cool out music. Then they got the guys that just wanna sit back, they might be doing their little drugs and shit, they don’t want too much screaming music in their ears. Play some mellow shit for them. Do what you gotta do. Play it cool. I’d play break music, then slow dance, then go right back to what everybody wanted to hear. The contemporary stuff. Shit that’s on the radio. So everybody was okay cool.

So you’re playing the whole break and then you’d play it again…?

Two of them, two of them.

But how long would you play each one?

Not too long. ’Bout four times.

And how much time would you give each one?

I’m not givin it too much time for the floor to be bored with it. ’Cos I got to move on. You can’t do nothin’ that they gonna be bored with, man.

And which breaks from which songs went down the best?

All of them, man. All of them. I don’t play wack shit. It don’t stay in the crate.

So when you started playing breaks, which year is this?

1974

And that was in the Hevalo?

Yeah. It was earlier than that too, because I had funky music before I even came up into the Hevalo. It was earlier than that. I used to play it but I never really put a lot of emphasis into it.

“  The more they’re having fun, the more I get busy. I told em, ‘I’m a put some things together and I want y’all to check it out. ”

When did people start calling it breakbeats?

They started to do that in the ’80s. That’s when they do that. They call it breakbeats.

Was anybody else doing anything similar?

No. There was guys were trying to battle me, but I wasn’t fucking with them. There was a guy called Smoky, he was coming up, he was on Webster Avenue, had a group called the Masterplan Bunch. Soon Flash was in the cuts. He was making noise and shit. But early on I had no competition.

Who tried to copy you, tried to use your idea?

I never knew. I never went to their parties. I’m doing my shit, I ain’t got time to go other places. Saturday, I’m not in your party, I’m in my shit. I ain’t got time to check other people out. I didn’t hear no name to go check out. What would I do, if they’re trying to impress by playing my shit. That’s not too impressive.

Tell me about your system.

I called my system the Herculords. People thought I was calling my crew the Herculords. the Herculords is not my crew, it’s the name of my sound system. The second sound system I built I called it ‘Not Responsible’. Every time you play that set somewhere, some shit always jump off, some dispute, so I call it ‘Not Responsible’.

We just used to crank it, let people know, ‘Yo! if you wanna come fuck with us, this is what you have to deal with.’ I remember one time Flash came to our party, at the Executive Playhouse. I’d just got the Mac then, and he came and I said, ‘Yeah I want you to feel the high, I want you to listen to the high, I want you to check out the midrange, I want the bass to walk the place.’ And I think I said, ‘Flash can you deal with it?’ He ran out the spot. He said that was the only time I embarrassed him.

He used to have a sound system called the Gladiators. And Kidd Creole, I’ll never forget, he said, ‘Yeah, it’s a known fact: the Herculords might cause a disaster, but there only could be one Grandmaster.’ A-ight motherfucker. It was cool, stood alongside them. Where the fuck we all at with that? So we just left it like that, man. We never battled.

“  Downtown was bourgois to me. My shit was elementary. Up here you could do your thing. Wear your sneakers, wear your jeans. ”

Did you rhyme over the records?

No, I just was saying a few little words. If the party rockin’ I’d say, ‘Yeah, right about now I’m rocking with the rockers, I’m jammin’ with the jammers. Young ladies, don’t hurt nobody. So remember it ain’t no fun unless we all get some. Rock on y’all. Rock, rock and don’t stop.’ And when ‘Bongo Rock’ used to come, we’d say ‘And you rock, and don’t stop. And rock. And don’t stop’. And that’s the only part. And I used to say, ‘Yeah, I like that’. Along the way, as the years go by, little short sayings became right into a full verse.

You just kept it like the Jamaican way of toasting.

Exactly.

Is that in your mind when you were doing it?

Exactly. I’d say: ‘Yo you never heard it like this before. And you’re back for more. And more, and more, and this year rock this y’all. Her-Herc.’ Or this: ‘Yes yes y’all. I see you comin’ down to check I, Her-Herc.’ Or if I’m playing something I’d say: ‘Yes this is through the inspiration of I, Her-Herc y’all. Check this out.’ And just go into the music, yunno. Took it nice through those raps to cover my mix, so it come on nice and smooth, ’cos I didn’t have the luxury of a headphone. I mixed over the music.

Did you ever play reggae?

A few, a few. I never played too much reggae. I never had the audience for it and people wasn’t feelin’ reggae at the time.

Is that how you started?

I played a few at the beginning but it wasn’t catching. I’m in Rome, I got to do what the Romans do. I’m here. I got to get with the groove that’s here. So I introduced similar music in a funky way. I find out what y’all in the Bronx like in your music. So this is your funky music to me. And it’s similar for what I was trying to do for reggae music. And apply it. So a lot of my music is about bass.

So you’re thinking, I want to make it like a sound system in Kingston?

Yeah.

How much of an inspiration was Jamaica to the way you played music?

An inspiration to me, my father knew good music. He loved music and he taught me what was good music. [Jamaican accent] ‘That’s a good boonce. That’s a good boonce.’ So I know what a good bounce is.

He didn’t play an instrument?

He was a Nat King Cole Man, Johnny Ace, all the classical old blues, rhythm and blues singers. Louis Armstrong all those people. Sarah Vaughan, Ella Fitzgerald. That’s his type of music. I knew what good music was, he trained my ears to it.

What was your favourite ever party?

My favourite party was my first boat ride I played for my high school, Taft, in ’74. The boat left from Battery Park, up to Rye Playland. And at the time, ‘Rock The Boat’ [by Hues Corporation] had just come out, this record. And the boat got ready to dock and the water got kind of rough. And then the boat is rocking like this and I put on ‘Rock The Boat’. [sings] ‘If you’d like to know it, you got the notion, Rock the boat, don’t stop…’ and everybody starts running from side to side to rock this fuckin’ boat. The captain, the teachers said ‘Yo! take it off. Take that goddam record off!’ And that shit made the school newspaper.

You never got into making records. How come?

I just, at the time, people got older, having responsibilities, and then narcotics came in, I started medicating myself. My father died, that put me in a slump. I got stabbed up, ’77. Drew me back into a little shell.

Why did you get stabbed?

A misunderstanding, shit. Kids come up in there, drunk. I was getting ready to play. I just changed my clothes, walked in the door, and walked into a discrepancy and I got stabbed.

You never played downtown?

No, never did. Downtown was bourgeois to me. My shit was elementary. You had to go through me and go on. It stayed up here. People couldn’t… Not only that, downtown you couldn’t wear no sneakers. You can’t wear what you want to wear down there. Up here you could do your thing. Wear your sneakers, wear your jeans. Downtown you had to be dressed different, yunno. Different style.

And when you started DJing, did you carry on B-boying, going dancing?

I danced behind the turntable. I got my little moves behind the turntable. Cos I got to be into it. I got to be feeling I’m into it. If I’m playing, if I’m throwin’ it on and I’m dancing, I know I’m making other people dance.

Me and my friend used to play chess… on the turntables. Me and Coke, my partner, Coke La Rock. ’Cos sometimes egotism was to take both of us at the same time. You want to play and I want to play. So how we gonna straighten this out? okay, cool, no problem, we had a game: this turntable’s mine, that turntable’s yours. Match me. And the first person who play a record that the crowd say ‘Ahh’ and walk off…

What’s the best thing you got out of it all?

Out of playing music? Until this day, hearing the oohs and the ahhs. Hearin the Ooohs and the Ahhs. People having fun, the mere fact that people enjoying themself, man.

What do you think is the power of the DJ?

The power? Of the DJ? It’s to motivate the crowd, man. It’s to have the insight to motivate the crowd. To have the crowd at your fingertips. To control the crowd, that’s the best fuckin’ power, man.

© DJhistory.com

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