Nice piece in the New Yorker by Ben McGrath on Hot 97′s history of weirdness featuring the "shooting" of Gravy.
As Funkmaster Flex states:
I wonder—no one has ever really seen the wound . . . Probably the person who treated it is the only one who saw it. It couldn’t have been excruciating pain. He was moving his hips up there. I mean, I’d like to see it. I’m sure we all would.
Nevertheless, Gravy’s learning from the experience:
Gravy was sitting in a car, listening to Hot 97, when the devastating news [that his music would never be played on Hot 97 again] was delivered. “If I died, or if I had to go through a sh*t bag—you know, where you get shot in the stomach and you can’t sh*t regular, got to wear the bag—they’d be playing me like crazy,” he said, still incredulous. “You have to damn near die to be famous these days?”
Not only that, he’s discovering there’s more to marketing than Hot 97:
"New Yorker? How many people see that sh*ts?” He reflected a moment. “Damn. Who needs Hot 97? I got New Yorker and MySpace.”
Lots of other good stuff in there.
Via Music Filter. It’s back and it looks like Oliver Wang’s sticking around for the summer plus Paul Shrug has joined up.
