The most pleasant surprises always come out of left field. When I first met Tommy Kruise, I knew him on a street level as a degenerate skater and All-City Chilleur. Never could I have imagined he’d be at the forefront of a movement in the musical realm.
Let it be known: before Montreal really jumped the broom and onto the Trap bandwagon, it was Mook Life that called it. Don’t get it twisted, though: all praise is due to the DJs who’ve known to stay ahead of the curve as well as guys like Lunice who’ve been able to set a new standard and, of course, the old heads that were actually there when the shit was just coming out. Having said that, let’s call a spade a spade… Had it not been for Wiggaz From Da Northside, there would be no venues willingly offering a dedicated space to this sort of thing. Hip-Hop purists snobbed the shit, labeling it “coon music” and other derogatory terms of the sort.
Here’s a dirty little secret for you: Rap music is best served ignorant. For all its lofty ideals of creating something out of nothing, for all the power that comes with using rap as a tool and platform to reach the youth, for the 30+ years of evolution this genre has undergone, the most potent variety is still its most barren, rudimentary form: music created by people with no formal training, who simply felt a ways and did something about it. There lies the gem in Memphis Confidential Vol 1. All Tommy wanted to do was pay homage to the music he gets high to. The result is a drug in and of itself: crack music, if you will. Let’s all get stoned.