Lightnin’ Rod – Hustler’s Convention

Why couldn’t more rap records be like this? Sure hip-hop’s got danceability and all dem kool breaks, and the underground stuff still has incredible instrumental hooks and smart political lyrics, but where’s the story? Albums like Hustler’s Convention compel you to sit down and pay attention. In the good ol’ days, people actually listened to music. Consider this my open call for hip-hop to get re-acquainted with the concept album. Give this a listen and then add your comments.

As a former member of the Last Poets, Jalal Mansur Nuriddin (aka Lightnin’ Rod) was a pioneer for the spoken-word funk that would lead to rap and hip-hop. Hustler’s Convention is a legendary album featuring Kool & The Gang (yes kiddies, they were actually cool at one point) and a virtual who’s who of session players (see below for more details). It’s the story of a ghetto hustler who quickly goes from bling-bling to sing-sing – prison that is.

In 2008, Jalal collaborated with Malik Al Nasir (formerly Mark T. Watson) and his band Malik & The OG’s, featuring Gil Scott-Heron (another spoken word pioneer), percussionist Larry Mc Donald, drummers Rod Youngs & Kenny Powell, poet Benjamin Zephaniah, producer Robbie Gordon, and a host of young rappers from Washington DC for an album called “Rhythms of the Diaspora”, which I have not been able to find.

Credits:

Bass – Fred Backmeier (tracks: 2 to 5, 8)
Congas – Rocky Dejon* (tracks: 2 to 5, 8)
Drums – Phillip Wilson (tracks: 2 to 5, 8)
Featuring – Kool & The Gang (tracks: 1, 7, 9)
Guitar – Howard ‘Buzz’ Feiten* (tracks: 2 to 5, 8)
Keyboards – Neil Larsen (tracks: 2 to 5, 8)
Mixed By – Tony Bongiovi (tracks: 1 to 12)
Producer – Alan Douglas
Saxophone [Alto] – Julius A Hemphill (tracks: 2 to 5, 8)
Saxophone [Tenor] – Brother Gene Dinwiddie (tracks: 2 to 5, 8)
Vocals – Lightnin’ Rod (tracks: 1 to 13)

Track List:

1) Sport (2:36)
2) Spoon (1:13)
3) The Cafe Black Rose (1:47)
4) Brother Hominy Grit (2:42)
5) Coppin’ Some Fronts For The Set (2:23)
6) Hamhock’s Hall Was Big (And There Was A Whole Lot To Dig!) (4:08)

Bass – Jerry Jemmott
Congas – Pancho Morales
Drums – Bernard Purdie
Guitar – Cornell Dupree
Organ – Billy Preston
Piano – Truman Thomas
Saxophone [Baritone] – James Mitchell
Saxophone [Tenor] – Andrew Love , King Curtis , Lou Collins
Trombone – Jack Hale
Trumpet – Roger Hopps , Wayne Jackson

7) The Bones Fly From Spoon’s Hand (2:59)
8) The Break Was So Loud, It Hushed The Crowd (3:11)
9) Four Bitches Is What I Got (3:44)
10) Grit’s Den (1:34)

Bass – Chuck Rainey
Congas – Candido , Johnny Pacheco , Norman Pride
Drums – Jimmy Johnson (2)
Drums, Congas – George McCleery
Guitar – Eric Gale
Percussion – Gordon Powell
Piano – Richard Tee
Saxophone [Tenor] – Maurice Smith , Trevor Lawrence
Timbales – Bobby Matos
Trumpet – Charles Sullivan , Gerry Thomas , Wilbur ‘Dud’ Bascombe*

11) The Shit Hits The Fan Again [Sound Effects - Tom Clack] (3:34)
12) Sentenced To The Chair (1:40)

Bass – Chuck Rainey
Congas – Candido , Johnny Pacheco , Norman Pride
Drums – Jimmy Johnson (2)
Drums, Congas – George McCleery
Guitar – Eric Gale
Percussion – Gordon Powell
Piano – Richard Tee
Saxophone [Tenor] – Maurice Smith , Trevor Lawrence
Timbales – Bobby Matos
Trumpet – Charles Sullivan , Gerry Thomas , Wilbur ‘Dud’ Bascombe*

13) Doriella Du Fontaine (8:47)

Engineer – Dave Jerden
Guitar – Jimi Hendrix
Mixed By – Bill Laswell
Organ – Buddy Miles

14) O.D. (2:30)

Organ – Buddy Miles
Vocals – Alafia Pudim

15) Doriella Du Fontaine (Instrumental) (4:09)

Drums – Buddy Miles
Engineer – Dave Jerden
Guitar – Jimi Hendrix
Mixed By – Bill Laswell

Notes below by Jalal Mansur Nuriddin:

At the end of the year 1971, I began to write “The Hustler’s Convention”, because of a need to express the realities of life on the streets. My understanding at that time, was that there were three types of education that a person may or may not receive in their lifetime. The first one was the education that you get at home (providing that you have a home). The second was the education that you get in school (providing that you can afford to go to school). And the third one consisted of the education that you got on the streets (Providing that you lived in a city or small town).

The one at home dealt with one’s etiquette (i.e. manner’s and hygiene etc) as well as one’s language, culture, and genology (i.e. family history and lineage) and the third one consisted of how one relates to other people of all ages, races, religions, cultures, creeds, ideologies, opinions, attitudes, physical and personality characteristics, handicaps, skills, perceptions, occupations and authority. On rare occasions they reconcile, but most often they do not. I wanted to describe the beat on the street, the pulse, the music, the rap, the competition, the peer pressure, the games, the struggles, the trials and tribulations, the fun, the dangers, the daring, the risks, the love and the hate, the sub-culture, the lessons, the posture, the poise, the sounds, the noise, the styles, the attitudes, the psychology, sociology, and ideology, the vibes of the new tribes.

The chills, spills, kills, and sheer wills, the grit and grime, the scuffle, bustle and hustle, on the block, ad hoc, by the time off the clock, between a hard place and a rock, within a state of shock. To the mime of crime, and frame it in rhyme, for once and all time.

And since the Ghetto was where the stage was set, no one including I, could afford to hedge our bet, as I set out to describe this vibe, this life and death in one breath, because it’s do or die, or don’t do and die quicker so nothing beats a failure but a try, so we had to try and sift through the rabble, and unravel the babble, this obscene surreality, of mangled totality, this sadness, madness, and badness, of in a vain, profane, and insane, abomination of a hopeless situation, that was simultaneously captivating, stimulating, and humiliating, which had gripped, and hipped every ghetto mind to search and find, a way out of this pay-for-all, free-fall.

Living and dying from day to day, in the constant struggle between the predator and prey. But in every jungle, their are certain animals who warn the others when they are about to be attacked, and by their evasive actions, alert the other occupants to the imminent danger.

But what we thought was a concrete jungle, was really a zoo, and we were in it, like it was stew, with no one knowing what to do about it, except burn it down, or get out of town, in order to awaken from the slumber of sleep, snoring to the smell of hell, where only the condemed dwell.

Just to take a bath in this laugh, to inhale the incense of this pretense, and waltz in this false fraud of discord and strife, within the hustler’s life.

To hustle means literally to “move fast” to haul ass, and don’t be last, as you try to use your mind to save your behind. to deal within a wheel of misfortune. To stake your claim, to play the game, be different and not the same, and choose not to lose no matter what methods you have to use, which is what Malcolm X meant when he said: “By any means necessary.”

The main hustler rule is don’t blow your cool, cause a fool can’t play a wise man, but a wise man can play the fool.

The Hustler’s Convention is a masterpiece of street rap, and is considered a classic.

This style of discourse had a long tradition in black american culture, combining elements of African story telling with the rhyming techniques of street corner one-upmanship, know as “Playing the Dozens” and of “Jail Toasts” such as the “Titanic” and “Doriella Du Fontaine” and “The Fall” and Honky Tonk Bud” and “The Signifying Monkey”and “Death Row”

The Grandfather, under his “moniker” of “Lightnin’ Rod” summarizes the rise and fall of the “Hustlers” in this epic ode, which up until this day, had not been equaled. (Stay tuned for the sequel) It was written with the intent that the hustler is the ghetto’s primary role model, but in comparision to what he’s hustling for, and what he’s being hustled out of, there are only two types, the greedy and the needy.

Thus the Grandfather runs it down at the end of this “piece de resistance” by rapping: “I was sentenced to the chair, and shipped to Sing Sing from there, where I spent the next 12 years on death row, but I kept coppin’ a stay, until the death penalty was done away, and after a re-trial, they finally let me go. ”

It had cost me twelve years of my time, to realize what a nickel and dime, hustler I had really been, while the real hustler’s are ripping off billions, from the unsuspecting millions, who are programmed to think they can win. ”

But fortunately, I escaped from the deathly fate, of being fried alive in the chair, cause in my solitude I found, out about what’s really going down…