RIP, Jam Master Jay.
I heard the Beastie Boys's No Sleep Til Brooklyn this weekend while I was driving down PCH with my brother, Steve. I felt like I'd been knocked on my ass. I exclaimed to him, "Jesus! I remember being in 7th grade, listening to this song over and over on my Yorx record player that Daddy bought me at the Price Club, and man, I had no idea that someday I'd actually LIVE in Brooklyn." My brother was pleasantly non-plussed, as is his ever-mellow way in the face of my constant melodramatic yammerings. When we got back to my parents' house, I pulled out my vinyl of Licensed To Ill and stared at it for a long time.
Where the fuck did this all come from, you ask? Here it 'tis: Enjoy this lovely article, celebrating the underrated and truly explosive year in music that was 1987, from the UK Guardian. I sure did. And my forever love to the two Adams and Mike D. for planting the seed that eventually landed my prissy little SoCal ass in the 718- thank god for that.
A snippet, from author John Harris :
I was 17 back then - addicted to the Smiths, ill-advisedly partial to the Housemartins, but well used to the dull thud of anti-climax that came from listening to records by, say, the Wedding Present. By early that summer, however, everything was looking up. In May, I witnessed the appearance of the Beastie Boys and Run DMC at Manchester Apollo, at which the former re-enacted Animal House with the aid of stomach-hurting bass, only for the latter to turn in one of the most jaw-dropping performances I have ever seen. Meanwhile, the year was soundtracked by a clutch of breathtaking albums: LL Cool J's Bigger and Deffer, Public Enemy's Yo! Bum Rush the Show, the Beasties' Licensed to Ill and Run DMC's Raising Hell. For some reason, Rick Rubin's decision to follow the latter two albums - both put out in '86, though they didn't half linger - with the Cult's gonzoid masterpiece Electric also led to my reconversion to heavy metal, but that will have to wait.
PS I also loved the Housemartins.