Madvillain — “All Caps”

He spent years in exile, self-imposed exile, his empire in ruins, his confidence shattered, his face, his beautiful face disfigured in a horrible accident, a once famous and now broken man, unrecognizable to the world and unrecognizable to himself. He'd suffered unimaginable loss, he'd lost close family, he'd lost his musical soulmate. He'd fought the cruel and predatory music industry and lost nearly everything else. Now in near total isolation, he battled his demons, his addictions, and he might lose that fight too. And yet he kept fighting. He physically rebuilt his own face piece by piece. He stared at himself in the mirror until he recognized himself. Again, he mourned the dead, but he also seathed. He plotted, he schemed. He swore revenge on a fickle populace that claimed to love him but could never truly understand him. And in the late 90s, when the time came to strike back, he burst back into public view and reclaimed the spotlight and unleashed his dastardly plan for total crushing world domination. Ladies and gentlemen, Chris Gaines. In November 1999, country music mega star Garth Brooks hosted Saturday Night Live and quite ominously introduced the musical guest, mysterious brooding smoldering star crossed pop music mega star, Chris Gaines. Two things you gotta know. Number one, Garth Brooks has sold 162 million records all time. Second all time only to The Beatles with 178 million. And he's just one guy, right? Garth Brooks can still sell more records than anybody you can think of, even if he'll only sell physical CD box sets in Walmarts or Pigley Wigglies or at car washes or whatever. Garth Brooks is permanently unfathomably huge and never more so than he was in 1999. Second thing you gotta know is that Chris Gaines is Garth Brooks in a wig. I love it when he mumbles mysteriously through the verses here and then yells, hey, like somebody just towed his car. I am risking my life playing you footage of Garth Brooks as Chris Gaines on Saturday Night Live in 1999. This song is called Way of the Girl. This footage has been thoroughly scrubbed from God's own internet. We ain't talking YouTube or Peacock here. We're on the dark web now, Reddit. If Garth Brooks gets pissed at me for playing you this and personally burns my house down with me in it, please apologize to him for me and ask him to play unanswered prayers at my funeral. In 1999, at the very height of his powers, at empirically higher heights than virtually any single musician in world history, Garth Brooks slapped on a jet black emo haircut wig in a soul patch and reinvented himself as Chris Gaines, an entirely fictional rock star with an incredibly convoluted fictional backstory. In September 1999, Garth released a new album with the unwieldy title Garth Brooks in the Life of Chris Gaines. This record sold 2 million copies, which would be a huge success for virtually anyone else, but for Garth was a world historical catastrophe. This shit was flabbergasting. Nobody understood what he was doing here, no matter how hard he worked to explain it. Garth made an entire fake VH1 Behind the Music episode about the completely made up life and career of Chris Gaines. This is literally the first thing Chris Gaines says in it. He was a rocker who liked fast cars and even faster women. That is Garth Brooks as Chris Gaines. You can tell he's Chris Gaines due to the wig and the soul patch and the bright red quarter zip sweater. That's Chris Gaines solemnly describing the roots of his lifelong canonical struggle with sex addiction. That is a core tenet of the Chris Gaines persona. I watched this entire Behind the Music episode and this was my reward. I just like women and I love communicating with them, however that may be. But one man's communication is another man's fornication. I have been thinking about the Behind the Music narrator guy saying, but one man's communication is another man's fornication for the last 48 hours. I've been practicing saying that in my own Behind the Music narrator voice. I think I would be good at that job. Sometimes I reverse it. I go, but one man's fornication is another man's communication, even though that's not accurate. One man's fornication is also another man's fornication. Real quick, the abridged fake Chris Gaines backstory. Born in Brisbane, Australia, raised in Los Angeles, sainted mother, domineering father. In high school, Chris and his best friend Tommy, they start a rock band called Crush, which Chris describes here as a, quote, real intelligent monkeys, a real intelligent beetles kind of feel, end quote. Crush become famous chart-topping rock stars, but then Tommy dies in a plane crash. Chris is devastated. And then Chris Gaines reinvents himself as a mysterious brooding, smoldering, star-crossed pop music solo megastar. His first blockbuster chart-topping solo album, all of this is fake, is called Straight Jacket. Two words, straight as in straight as an arrow, straight jacket. What? What? His second blockbuster chart-topping solo album is called Fornicopia. Cornucopia with an F. There's an album cover and you don't want to see it. Or anyway, I don't want to show it to you. That is an opt-in experience. Would you like to hear Garth Brooks say the word Fornicopia out loud? You better prepare yourself. It was Chris's sophomore album, an album called Fornicopia that came out. Oh yeah, laugh. 14 million, that album. In 1999, Garth Brooks also hosted a primetime hour-long NBC special where he played a bunch of Chris Gaines songs and painstakingly explained the convoluted fake backstory of the Chris Gaines character to a live audience. I watched this recently on headphones on my laptop in the crowded waiting room of a Toyota service department while I got my many-vans tires rotated. And when Garth Brooks said Fornicopia out loud, I laughed hard enough to draw attention to myself. I thought I was prepared for him to say that and I was not. If you're watching this NBC special, it's Garth Brooks as himself with thinning tousled gray hair in front of a boisterous live audience that is both audibly thrilled, it's Garth Brooks and clearly terribly confused. What is Garth Brooks talking about? Notice that Garth can recite made-up Chris Gaines sales figures. Fornicopia, not a real album, sold 14 million copies. The convoluted fictional Chris Gaines backstory goes on. He gets in a horrible car accident, he flips his Porsche or whatever in Malibu, his pelvis has smashed, his jaws almost ripped off, his face, his beautiful face has to be totally reconstructed. He finally gets treatment for sex addiction. His mansion in Malibu burns down, he discovers the love of one good woman, he heads down to Mississippi and undertakes a deeply personal search for the roots of rock and roll, etc. The Real Life 1999 album Garth Brooks in dot dot dot The Life of Chris Gaines is styled as a fake greatest hits album and also as the pre soundtrack to a real life Chris Gaines themed movie called The Lamb, possibly starring Garth Brooks, but that movie never gets made because the real life album flops because all of this is incredibly confusing. Two million copies sold ain't gonna cut it and the critics are unkind. Salon dot com describes the Chris Gaines character as quote Ben Stiller impersonating Prince and quote Rolling Stone says quote clearly this guy got run over by the crazy truck and I'm talking all 18 wheels and quote variety refers to this whole fiasco as an alter ego trip. That's good. That's good. But you want to know the absolute weirdest part of the whole baffling impenetrable Chris Gaines saga. The music itself is totally normal. This is my favorite Chris Gaines song. It is called Main Street. It sounds like the wall flowers. Unprecedented country megastar Garth Brooks decides he wants to build a fictional mysterious brooding smoldering star crossed sex addicted pop music megastar from scratch and he puts on a jet black emo wig and a soul patch and he makes himself sound like counting crows or maybe John Mayer or Richard Marx or unplugged era Eric Clapton and the crowd in this NBC special they're into it robust cheers outstretched hands etc. The crowd is totally willing to accept these songs as new real hit Garth Brooks songs. The crowd is just totally unable to process them as old fake hit Chris Gaines songs. There. That's as weird as the Chris Gaines album gets a song called Right Now in which Garth Brooks raps not really he just sings a little faster about crack and the Bible and pipe bombs underneath the bleachers and then he sings the chorus to get together by the young bloods that famous 60s hippie song. But I don't think that's what anyone remembers now about the Chris Gaines album. What most people remember now is the album cover Garth Brooks in the wig and the soul patch his eyes smoldering behind the mysterious ominous mask of his bangs Garth Brooks would seem to prefer that this cover is all you remember famously Garth Brooks albums are not available on streaming other than on Amazon but the Chris Gaines album is extra not available You can find the Chris Gaines album on YouTube maybe of course you can buy a used CD but I believe Garth Brooks is on the record as preferring you not do that. This is all mostly a joke now. Any Buzzfeed type top 10 all time rock and roll fiasco's list there's Chris Gaines but I can still also genuinely admire the sheer confounding audacity of Chris Gaines the heat check arrogance the unprecedented superstar flex. What is the point of having pop stars if they're not trying baffling ill advised catastrophic type shit. Are you up on the Janet Jackson Panther situation. I just heard about this. Hanif Abdu-Rakib the great poet and author and friend of the show. Hanif was just talking about this on Instagram. I had no idea. So Janet Jackson in 1989 just as Garth Brooks is getting started. Janet Jackson puts out her super blockbuster album rhythm nation 1814. Right. And she's starting a world tour her first tour as an S tier all time pop star. And Janet Jackson decides she wants a Panther with her on stage a real life Panther. So there's Janet Jackson on stage in Miami with a live Panther presumably in a cage or on a leash or something. Right. Right. And you know what happens. Right. The very obvious inevitable totally foreseeable thing happens. The Panther peas all over the stage. The Panther pisses indiscriminately. You got Janet Jackson backup singers and dancers slipping all over the stage. So grudgingly Janet Jackson is like OK never mind about the Panther and somebody in the rhythm nation gets a mop and that's the end of it. An all time superstar heat check. Janet Jackson has arrived because you have not truly arrived as an all time superstar until you've attempted something ridiculous and failed spectacularly. Not to mention hilariously what I will say about Garth Brooks as Chris Gaines. And I say this with the greatest of admiration is that I see that Chris Gaines album cover now and I detect the faint but proud scent of Panther urine. So Garth Brooks tried the whole pop star alter ego thing and he totally fucked it. That's just a fact. But one man's fornication is another man's communication. So let's try this again. Let me rephrase in 1997 the rapper and producer not previously known as MF Doom releases his self produced debut 12 inch vinyl single three songs dead bent gastrels and hay hay is my favorite hay exclamation point. There's more than one way to skin a cat. That's an old tired cliche. The thing where a rapper rap something and then goes let me say that another way. That's kind of a cliche also. This is not that none of this is any of that. Let's listen to this again. Let's all marinate. Let's really try to luxuriate in the astounding internal rhymes and bonus alliteration of as a matter of fact, let me rephrase with more rhymes than ways to fill a felines these days. Unbelievable. Try to hear this the way you might have heard it in 1997. You pick up this 12 inch at let's say Fat Beats, the super famous New York City record store. You buy this blind and unheard and unknown just based on the record label. You buy this single because it's on the cool and prestigious Fondalum records and actual record label with a name I will never get over as long as I live. Shout out legendary DJ and Fondalum owner, Bobito Garcia. I don't know why he named his label that. Maybe you've heard the name MF Doom before. Maybe you're big into comic books and you immediately grasp that MF Doom is explicitly modeled after infamous fantastic for arch enemy Dr. Doom or maybe not. His name aside, maybe you think you know who this rapper is and what his whole deal is, but probably you don't. And meanwhile he's achieving total crushing world domination. Five seconds at a time. Holds Mike's like he knows karate body blows. That's incredible. That would sound cool if any medium cool rapper said it. But this guy also says things that somehow only sound cool when he says it. Stuff like for the record, this is some shit I just thought of y'all. For the record, this is some shit I just thought of y'all science fiction. That's not permissible in the court of law. That's also incredible somehow. The line it's science fiction that's not permissible in no court of law should sound clunky and overwrought and yet doesn't. There is some ineffable, nonchalantly startling quality to this person's voice. The hyper casual rasp, the Thunderbolt deadpan, the endless symphonic technicolor vibrance of his monotone. There is no hook here, no chorus, no pop oriented song structure, no ad libs. I did not realize until I read it somewhere. No ad libs, no doubled voices, no studio tricks to feign emphasis or consensus or camaraderie. Just a random, disheveled, loquacious guy sitting next to you at the bar and talking your ear off. Just a mysterious, faceless man wrapping his ass off. Also, is that Scooby Doo? Yes, indeed. This man is wrapping his ass off while sampling a 1972 Scooby Doo cartoon. The exact sample source is worth revisiting. Imagine watching this on TV and deciding to construct your entire nefarious world conquering new rap persona around it. Yes, if you're watching, that's the Adams family. If I were Scooby Doo and I were unfamiliar with the Adams family, I'd go and run away to imagine hearing that. Hey, and hey, Scooby, and using it to censor individual words whilst you wrap your ass off. This behavioral rap star's an instrument. Call me Mr. Ben. I'm at where your sister went. Intelligent used to write me well spoke. Now all I really want to do is fight myself and tell Joe. I'm at where your sister went. Also, this guy in various songs under various guises, this guy's going to spend a lot of time talking about other people's bad breath. It's a pet peeve of his, I gather. I could go on where this song, Hey, is concerned and often I do. But give me one good Zoinks and we'll get out of here. Zoinks, this place is filled with pretenders willies. One false move and get broke off like end of fillies. Zoinks, pretender willies. One false move and get broke off like end of fillies. I could listen to this guy just say things all day. And I become more fascinated with this guy the less I understand him. The whole point of a well deployed pop music alter ego is the uncertainty, the confusion, the initial total lack of backstory or explanation. Chris Gaines didn't work because Garth Brooks over explained it. That's one reason it didn't work. Whereas this guy's about to build his case as one of the most beloved rappers in history because there is no real explanation for any of this beyond. It's awesome. Anyways, he'll clean up this song, Hey, and speed it up a little and put it out again in 1999 and in that version, the closing line about meddling kids will really pop. Unsettling bids. That's the real killer phrase in this whole song. If you're listening to this song for the first time and you get really into the Scooby-Doo of it all, maybe you're smart enough to anticipate the meddling kids showing up somewhere, but no way you're prepared for him to rhyme meddling kids with unsettling bids. Who is this person? Who was this person? What happened to this person that turned him from that person into this person? How many people is this person? How many heads, a piece on average, does all the different people this person is have? And what's the deal with the mask? His name is MF Doom. You spell that in all caps. Maybe you figured out that part without being told. Or maybe you know it's all caps because eventually, graciously, he told you that himself. Took a few minutes to convince the average book of you. It's ugly like, look at you. It's a damn shame. Just remember all caps when you spell the man name. My name is Rob Harvilla. This is the 39th episode of 60 Songs That Explain the 90s, Colen, the 2000s. And this week we are discussing all caps by Madvillain, the dastardly duo of the rapper slash producer MF Doom and the producer slash rapper Madlib. From their phenomenal joint 2004 album, Madvillainy. If you've heard this beat recently in a TV commercial for some artificial intelligence thing, I want you to forget you heard that and or forget I just reminded you of it. We'll be back after these commercial messages. How you doing? Real quick, this is our ninth episode so far also available on video. The video is optional, but and I'm trying real hard not to read the comments. So I don't know how it's going for you. But here's how it's going for me. Look out. Top five worst things about being a video podcaster. Now here we go. Number five, too much shit in my house. What is all this shit? What am I supposed to put all this shit? I got key lights. I got waffle lights. I got myriad bulky tripods that I triple over constantly. I got a table here loaded up with unsightly cables and power strips and whatnot. I got no room to maneuver in my own office. I have defiled my own inner sanctum. I got dust out the wazoo. There is cat hair on the teleprompter. Yo, number four, unflattering screenshots of my face. Do not send these to me. I am aware of what my face does when I talk and there is nothing to be done about it now. Number three, TikTok in general. Now I got to try to make social content. I got to put video clips from this show on TikTok, but I don't know how to use TikTok and my clips, they get like 15 views total and it makes me feel inept and angry and also ancient. Number two, I got HelloWiFi issues. I work out of my house, right? I got a fancy camera. I got an SD card and the camera recordings themselves. The digital video files this show generates are now so large. It's like 40 gigs per episode of stuff. I got to upload to the cloud and the internet. The Wi-Fi in my house is so bad that if I want to send these files to my producers quickly, I have to drive my laptop across town to my mother-in-law's house because she has much faster Wi-Fi than I do. To be clear, I love my mother-in-law very much and I greatly enjoy her company. And it's nice to see her. Maybe I bring her some soup, etc. But I frankly resent the fact that the superior cable fiber Wi-Fi is available in her neighborhood, but not in mine. And despite the fact that she can't log into Hulu without calling her daughter for help, my mother-in-law can nonetheless upload in 30 minutes what I cannot upload in 24 hours. I cannot help but think that AT&T is antagonizing me personally. Also, confidential to T-Mobile. Hey! You. And finally, the number one worst thing about being a video podcaster. You guessed it. Nose hair. The best thing about being a video podcaster now is now maybe you can just sit here with me and stare at the mad villainy cover. See, this is why I've got all this shit in my house. There are days when this is my favorite album cover ever. Today is one such day. Just a simple, ominous, black and white, ludicrously rad photograph of MF Doom, AKA Daniel Dumelay, formerly known as Zevlove X, currently also known as Metal Face, Metal Fingers, Victor Vaughn and my personal favorite, King Ghidorah. For now, let's just call him Doom. All caps. So yeah, there's Doom, rap superstar on the cover of Mad Villainy, staring at you from inside the iconic eternal metal gladiator mask he never takes off in public. His eyes are just barely visible, but his eyes are staring comic book laser holes through you, whether you notice them or not. Eric Coleman, took the cover photo. There's also a little orange box in the upper right corner. Jeff Jank, who designed the Mad Villainy cover. A Stones Throw Records co-founder and art director, Jeff Jank says he added the orange box because of Madonna. Madonna's self-titled 1983 debut album is a black and white shot of her face with just a pop of color in the O in Madonna. Jeff says the O in Madonna is orange. It looks pretty clearly red to me, though then again, I'm not Stones Throw's art director. All time great album cover, regardless. All right, it is 1988 in the New York City, Rap Duo third base have a splendid, buoyant, brash and yet modest little hit song on their hands called The Gas Face. If you ever wondered what 1988 looked, sounded and felt like. If you are super into hip hop, this will give you a decent idea. In 1988, everyone danced like MC search in the Gas Face video. Just trust me on that. Next up, Don, a special appearance by KMD's Zev Love X. Gas Face can either be a smile or a smirk when a pair of monkey wrist to work was clock worth. Corkin is good to the rim of my cup. Don't tempt me or empty to fill her up. And here, indeed, we have a special appearance by the young rapper known for the time being as Zev Love X. That's X evolves with a Z backward. Zev Love X. Perkin is brim to the rim of my cup. Don't tempt me or empty so fill her up. His name will change. His face will change. His tone will darken villainously. But the astounding internal rhymes are there from the very beginning. Daniel Dumoulin is born on July 13th, 1971. His mother is from Trinidad. His father is from Zimbabwe. And Daniel is born while his parents are visiting family in London. The whole born in London thing is going to be a huge unpleasant issue. Immigration wise, later in his life. But young Daniel and his four younger siblings are raised in Long Island, New York. In the late eighties, Daniel, now going by Zev Love X and his younger brother, Dean Gleesway, a.k.a. DJ Subrock, they start a rap group called KMD. Initially a trio with their friend, Onyx, the birthstone kid. KMD stands for either causing much damage or a positive cause in a much damaged society. Causing much damage is better, or at least its way simpler. KMD is going to be making some noise real soon. But here in 1988, the gas face is Zev Love X's big debut. My favorite part of his verse is just the way he says, Sonoko. It's a gas station. I'm talking. You know, it's true. You know, gas, a credit for that. That's a no go. Damn, D and third base of this. This is the whole. I mean, so make the gas. Yes, damn it. Looks like. Yeah, it's truly delightful, but just a little bit heartbreaking. How young and fun loving and quote unquote normal are young heroes of love X sounds and looks here. Just a rad, skinny, baby face teenager with glasses goofing around with his friends and explaining the rad slang term he came up with. That's a hit song now. The gas face is a mocking, contemptuous face you make at a person you dislike. You sort of grit your teeth and shake your head vigorously. Like, oh, oh, what nobody tells you about the gas face is it hurts. It physically hurts to do the gas face. I can feel my brain rattling around in my skull. Naturally, the fact that it hurts to do the gas face only heightens the insult. The contempt conveyed to the gas face victim ingenious. KMD's debut album is released in 1991 and is called Mr. Hood. It is excellent and brash and youthful and buoyant and somewhat deceptively upbeat. Of the original folks, OK, jokes over, but still a close over us with no love for no clover, this irritates us. So goes into my text to erase one and word complex sub rock and stuff. Of what was was going to be that guy. The jokes are cause I say deceptively because zev love X starts this verse with Holy smokes, an old fashioned cousin to Zoinks, I think. And then he rails passionately against racism. Holy smokes, I say it's a joke to make a mockery of the original folks. This song is called Who Me? The full title is Who Me? Question mark, parenthesis with an answer from Dr. Burt, close parenthesis. That's Dr. Burt as in Burt and Ernie from Sesame Street. When you find it, draw a circle around it. No, Burt, you just cross it. No, hot duck, man. Yeah, the fundamental Saturday morning cartoons silliness radiating off this person is there from the very beginning. On this KMD album, Mr. Hood sub rock handles most of the production and zev love X does the best and most prominent pure rapping, as he does here on a catchy and extra buoyant tune called Peach Fuzz. The video is really fun, too. Now, there's plenty of vibrant and illuminating local detail here. Ask my anchor banker. He understands those were cheesy local TV commercials. And for part of the video, KMD are wearing the white head wraps of the Ansaru Allah community, the very complicated black Muslim group that zev and sub rock were raised in. But yeah, big picture. This is a bouncy little song about struggling to grow a beard with a video where our young heroes ride bikes and try to pick up girls. As debut albums go, it's oversimplifying things to compare Mr. Hood to De La Soul's three feet high and rising, which, OK, is a better and way more famous debut album and as a group, De La Soul get a lot more time to evolve, to get stronger and sharper so they can at least try to fight back against the predatory music industry that's so intent on stifling and oversimplifying them. As for KMD, tragically, what you hear primarily on this Mr. Hood album now is potential. You get a portal to a much simpler and brighter alternate universe where zev love X maybe never needs a mask or any other alias at all. On April 23, 1993, DJ Sub Rock is hit by a car and killed while trying to cross the Long Island Expressway. He was 19. At Sub Rock's wake, his devastated older brother and bandmate brings a boombox and plays songs from KMD's not yet completed second album, which includes a thumping up beat, an eerily prophetic song called It Sounded Like a Rock, in which Sub Rock promises to haunt us all. And he will. KMD's second album is called Black Bastards. The cover drawing depicts a racist, sombo type cartoon character hanging from a noose. As images go, as vicious, mocking, defiant, anti-racist images go, this feels pretty straightforward. But KMD's record label freaks out at the cover and shelves the Black Bastards album and drops the group, a group that now only consists of a still grieving zev love X. The Black Bastards album does finally come out in the year 2000. But by then it's a weird, moving, but deeply disorienting afterthought, born into an entirely different universe. A multiverse, really. There is a profoundly uncomfortable June 1994 KMD feature in The Source magazine, written by the journalist and author Ronan Rowe, where he interviews a grieving zev love X shortly before Black Bastards gets shelved. Ronan writes, quote, I ask if listening to and having to promote the Black Bastards album is a bother. If hearing Subrock's voice doesn't reopen painful wounds. He leans forward in his seat. His voice grows a little more forceful. And Zev says, it seems like I'm listening to two different people to tell you the truth. I'm not even that motherfucker from before. I don't know. Different times. What I'm doing now creatively is totally different. It's like him and me combined as one type shit. And quote, the article goes on, quote, it's like this. The physical body is not us anyway. Zev continues equating visiting a grave to worshiping graven images. Subrock's presence is numinous, he tells me. So the whole physical form shit is mad whack. Zev pauses, talking on the blunt. He knows that Subrock will live on through the good deeds he did in life, through his music and in people's loving memories. But still, the pain is deep. After a second, Zev stares into his lap, shakes a new port out of his pack and says, I feel like a fucking piece of bullshit. His face is a mask of torment. End quote, a couple years pass. Daniel Dumoulin drops mostly out of sight. And when he resurfaces, he's got a new name, the first of several new names. And if he gets his way, nobody's ever going to see his face again. On Tuesday ever since the womb till I'm back with my brother went, that's what my tumor say right up on my government. Doomalake either unmarked or in grade. Hey, who's it say? In 1999, MF Doom releases his debut full length album called Operation Doomsday. That song is called Doomsday. There is fantastic internal rhyming there. Supreme technical excellence. Yes, fine. Sure. Absolutely. Nothing else matters there. But ever since the womb till I'm back where my brother went. MF Doom wears a quite literal physical mask everywhere. Always. Per the great twenty twenty four book, The Chronicles of Doom, Unraveling Wraps Masked Iconoclast written by S.H. Fernando, Jr. Doom got his first mask from a 99 cent store. A plastic Halloween mask of the WWF pro wrestler Kane spray painted with silver rustle, but somebody sat on that mask during an early MF Doom video shoot. Holy smokes. Whatever embarrassing shit you've done in your life, at least you didn't accidentally sit on MF Doom's mask. The canonical, the more or less permanent MF Doom mask is a 25 pound steel replica of a mask, Russell Crowe war in the Oscar winning 2000 film Gladiator, welded and sanded and secretly internally padded and otherwise gradually modified, including a layer of chrome to deal with rust and whatnot. With this mask, MF Doom is now one of the most instantly recognizable rappers in history and just as importantly, he is also one of the least recognizable rappers in history without it. He has a family. He has a wife and children. He has privacy. The mask grants him both near total anonymity and permanent immortality, given that he raps like this all the time. That song is called rhymes like dimes. My favorite moment there lyrically is a tie between classical slapstick rappers need chapstick and the part where he rhymes Alamo with tally ho. Meanwhile, dig the absurdly tasty sample from the landmark 1981 smooth jazz as pop Quincy Jones album, The Dude, the rhymes like dimes sample can turn water into cocaine. MF Doom is also your sole producer on this operation Doomsday record. He's flipping Shade. He's flipping Steely Dan. He's flipping Scooby Doo and Fantastic Four and various other cartoons. He is in rapturing and terrorizing the populace. Ultimately, under the alias metal fingers, MF Doom will release a 10 volume series of instrumental beats called special herbs. And that's a whole magnificent rabbit hole we don't have much time for because I need to briefly introduce you to Daniel Dumoulin's next major alias, King Ghidorah. I'm not going to try to sell you on it being the cleverest or the deepest line in rap history, but Ghidorah has arrived. You guys can take five makes me laugh out loud each and every time I hear it. I can't explain it. It's a vocal tone thing, I guess. OK, King Ghidorah, the spelling varies. King Ghidorah is a three headed outer space dragon serpent giant monster. Kaiju situation who made his film debut in 1964. He is Godzilla's mortal enemy. Mortal is the wrong word. He does not like Godzilla when Daniel Dumoulin is rapping under the name King Ghidorah. This song is called No Snakes Alive from the 2003 King Ghidorah album. Take me to your leader in the MF Doom universe. King Ghidorah, the three headed Godzilla villain, space dragon transmits his raps telepathically to MF Doom, the guy in the mask, who then translates and physically audibly raps those raps. The other thing I like about this song, No Snakes Alive, is that it arbitrarily speeds up. A giant three headed space dragon kicking Godzilla's ass while telepathically rapping sort of mellow type of fellow who sometimes spas on wife like Othello, holy shit. So that's happening. Also in 2003, we get Vaudeville Villain, the debut album from Victor Vaughn, the third major rapping Daniel Dumoulin alias, a younger, brash or snotty or rapidy rapping persona based on comic book super villain Dr. Dum's alias, Victor Vaughn, Dum, but we'll meet Victor Vaughn, the rapper in a second. Let's meet this guy first. OK, this song is called Greenery and this guy's name is Quasimodo. That's one of this guy's names and two of this guy's voices. Here we have Otis Lee Jackson, Jr. Aka Quasimodo, aka the beat conductor, aka the loop digger, aka yesterday's new quintet, that's his jazz group consisting of presumably five versions of himself. But he is best known as Mad Lib. Mad Lib is born on October 24th, 1973, in the luscious beach town of Oxnard, California, 100 miles or so west of LA. His father is a soul musician. His mother is a songwriter for his father. Mad Lib samples his first record when he's 11 years old. James Brown doing it to death by the J.B.'s. Mad Lib and two of his friends form a young, brash, modest, fun loving rap trio called Loot Pack, who make their debut in 1993 on an Alcoholics record. The Alcoholics, Cays instead of Cs, are an extra fun loving beer drinking rap group from LA. I saw the Alcoholics live in Cleveland, Ohio in the mid 90s on the warped tour. Can that possibly be right? I swear I saw the Alcoholics and Rocket from the Crypt play back to back. If that sentence makes any sense to you, no, it doesn't. Loot Pack put out a few singles and a 1999 debut full length album on Stones Throw Records, a very cool and prestigious LA based record label. Mad Lib becomes Stones Throw's resident mad scientist. He lives in the Stones Throw house slash headquarters, making beats all day in the basement, which is a former bomb shelter, literally called the bomb shelter. And in the year 2000, he makes his full length debut as Quasimodo on a critically acclaimed album called The Unseen. The deal with Quasimodo is that Mad Lib comically pitch shifts his voice and wraps alongside himself, often about Greenery. This song, Greenery, is from the second Quasimodo album released in 2005 and called The Further Adventures of Lord Quas. I'm playing you this song specifically because it features a third pitch shifted Mad Lib voice, namely the guy here who goes, pass it around. Flight it up. Roll it. Pass it around. The scientists have found. Check the rail. Look over here. I would like that glass ball. Big blue glass ball. I don't see it. Do you have the money for it? Right there to the left. OK. Pass it around. I love the pass it around guy very much. Oh, hello. Oh, yeah, the money for it. Oh, I'm pretty sure that on this song, Mad Lib is selling a bong to himself. And then smoking weed with multiple iterations of himself. This guy in his stoned evil genius, multiverse multitudes. This guy seems very much like MF dooms kind of guy and zoinks. Let's get these guys together already. This song is called Accordion. That's a sample from Daedalus, the underground rap luminary Daedalus. And that wheezing instrument you're hearing is not an accordion. But that's OK. I would honestly love to hear an argument that Mad Villani, the first and final proper album from Mad Villain, the duo of MF Doom and Mad Lib, released in March 2004 on Stones Throw Records. I would love to hear someone argue that this is not MF dooms best album and Mad Lib's best album. But I personally cannot make that argument because Mad Villani is preposterously fantastic, living off borrowed time. The clock ticks faster. The thing with Doom, the rapper in any form, including the three headed telepathic space dragon form, the thing with him is you can revel in the silliness and the bewilderment and the aliases and the rabbit holes. But you can also zoom all the way back into the molten human core of this person's being, which remains ever since the womb till I'm back where my brother went. And then you can zoom back out to the supervillain cartoon character who's rhyming Kotex, Bowflex and Joe Tex. That's the end of that song, accordion. Mad Villani songs don't need hooks and choruses or discernible song structures because every part of every song is the most important part. This song is called Meat Grinder. Jack LaLanne is a famous fitness guru. Wrath of Cain is a big daddy Cain song where he raps incredibly fast and on a fast track to half insane is a fantastic description of what it feels like to try to process all this. Doing bong hits on the roof in the West Coast. You can picture doom Daniel, the singular human on a rooftop in LA with Mad Lib, Otis, the singular human smoking on those trees at 100 degrees. There is a human connection here, even if these two human guys aren't physically in the same room or even on the same coast for very long. Mad Villani, the album, can be a story about painfully human connections and disconnections, the 33 and a third book series. There's a great 33 and a third book about Mad Villani published in 2023 and written by Will Hagel. And like the Stones Throw Records guys argue amongst themselves now about who deserves credit for this record and Dooms manager at the time, Malaysia Shabazz, she argues with the Stones Throw guys and says she deserves the credit. Also in 2023, MF Dooms widow Jasmine Duma-Lay Thompson, she sues Egon Ollipat, former general manager of Stones Throw, because he's in possession of 31 of MF Dooms Rhyme notebooks. And that is a whole ugly convoluted legal mess. That dispute was settled confidentially in 2025. And reportedly MF Dooms widow got his notebooks back. There is copious backstory. There is endless behind the scenes rancor and intrigue and sadness. Did I just obtusely mention that MF Dooms died? MF Dooms died on October 31st, 2020, though this was not publicly announced until December 31st, 2020. He was 49. He died on Halloween and we found out on New Year's Day. You can miss him terribly and still be happy for him. That he's back where his brother went. Or or never mind any of that. Mad Villani is not a story about any of that at all. No, Mad Villani is the glorious comic book multiverse team up between two all time great rappers slash producers with multiple baffling electrifying aliases apiece. And the resulting preposterously fantastic album does not take place on this planet or in this timeline or in any recognizable plane of existence at all. Live on the beats. We have the one and only mad love. How do you do? We also have King Geed on the mix. Yesterday's new quintet is here. Mad Villani is one of these records where I have a new favorite part, a new favorite micro moment every time I hear it. Sometimes I walk around my house going, you know, it's the best to watch out. And sometimes I walk around my house going, Mara, Bung Bung, Wana, Bing Bung, Mara Wana, Bung Bung, Bing Bung. But right now it's this part. This song is called Bistro. It's the introduction to the album. It's track four. That's funny. Bistro is a minute and seven seconds long. And it's just doom listing all the artists who contributed to this album. And they're all aliases of doom and mad lib. We also have King Ghidorah on the mix. I love the way he says that. Yesterday's new quintet is here. That's Mad Lib's jazz group consisting entirely of himself. I suddenly find this moment, this Bistro introduction absurd and yet genuinely moving. Two guys who have imagined themselves as an infinite number of guys. Artists, superstars, supervillains, space dragons. Mad Villainy is the glorious sound of an infinite number of panthers peeing on an infinite number of stages. The cartoonish audacity, the superhuman ingenuity that drives this one record by all these guys like Victor Vaughn. Say a quick hello to MF Doom alias Victor Vaughn, the star of a couple great full-length albums who gets a song on Mad Villainy called Fancy Clown, in which he castigates his girlfriend for cheating on him with, you guessed it, MF Doom. When you see Tin Head, tell him be ducking down. There is proto-spiderman pointing meme energy here. Track 20 on Mad Villainy is called All Caps. It is two minutes and 10 seconds long. Objectively, the best part of this song is don't talk about my moms, yo. Your mother, don't talk about my moms, yo, is objectively the best part of all caps. Although I've always been partial to the casual simplicity of hit it on the first try villain, the worst guy. The drum loop is a sample of a 1974 song called Bumpin' Bus Stop by a group called Thunder and Lightning. I did not know that. And yet I always subconsciously suspected it. All caps is in a TV ad right now for some AI thing. Right. And I don't mean to be preachy or bitchy or nothing. I got no beef with technology as such, even if the Wi-Fi in my house sucks. But I find the Mad Villain AI ad oddly singularly appalling. Insofar as my understanding is that AI is a computer trying to convince you that it's human. And so it's draining the world's oceans whilst barraging you with random facts and data and noise, gleaned from humans. But you simply cannot fake, you cannot synthesize, you cannot replace the all too human frailty and complexity and audacity and ingenuity and interplanetary greatness that resulted in the two people who made Mad Villainy by imagining themselves as way more than two people. You know. I guess what I really want to say about that ad is ah, shit. Allegedly, the investigation is still ongoing in this pesky nation, he gots the best corn flowing, the pot doubles. Not even he got troubles. Mad man never go like snot bubbles. I just picture MF Doom in his chrome plated 25 pound metal mask going mad. Man never like snot bubbles and leaving just a little bit of spit on the mask. There's still a little kid watching scooby-doo cartoons with his little brothers and sisters lurking behind that mask. Some days I'm almost relieved that Doom doesn't have to live on this planet anymore. But every day I'm grateful that he and Mad Lib let us visit them on all of theirs. We are so honored to be joined once again by open Mike Eagle, rapper and podcaster and comedian and friend of the program. His latest album is so great, it's called Neighborhood Gods Unlimited. And you can catch him on tour very soon. Mike, thank you so much for being here. Oh, it feels so good to be back. It feels so good to be back. It's wonderful. I love the stuff you talk about. Well, thank you so much. Likewise, it's always wonderful to talk to you. And I have to talk to you about Doom because if I'm not mistaken, you have collaborated with Doom twice. You have two songs with two. Do I have that right? You do have that correct. Two songs with two of my greatest life achievements. OK. And I am trying to remember, I think, did you ever talk to him? Did you ever meet him? I never talked to him nor met him. I was always through a mysterious connection of third parties every time. It was like I was doing a drug deal. I imagine that's certainly not unheard of, you know, as a rapper jumping on another person's song, like how much harder it's obviously I'm imagining you were very intimidated to be on a song with Doom. But how much harder is it if you never talk to him? If you have no chance to build any kind of rapport, does that matter when you're collaborating or not really? It doesn't matter a lot. Like it does matter a little. I did feel more like, OK, I need to bring, you know, my fire stuff because it's not like I'm going to get to sit and chill with him and see what he responds to and what he don't or none of that. So it was just it all had to be in the wraps. And I just just had to sit and hope that the wraps were good enough. Yes. Did you get did you get any feedback after? No. No, not at all. OK, OK. No news is good news, I guess. Yeah, actually, I've learned that. And that's funny. I've learned that specifically in rap. OK, somebody doesn't say something bad happened. I should just assume nothing bad happened. OK, I'll get in my head about whether or not I've made a mistake or I've run a foul of somebody or I, you know, I ticked somebody off. What I've learned, I think about stuff like that way more than other people do. Sure. Sure. OK, so thinking about it in terms of the Mad Villain album, I know Doom and Mad Lib met in person and hung out a little bit and communicated a little bit between the two of them, but not very often. I think the vast majority of the time, like they're doing their own thing. They're both very mysterious, like isolated figures, like for a full album like this, even in that situation, do you not need to be in the same room and have like that sort of mind melds? Like when you listen to this album, does it feel like they weren't in the same room or it feels like they were? Like what's your sense of the rapport that they established? However, they went about establishing it. In my mind, they are great. They were great friends. My mind, they were hanging out all the 2003 working on this record. And I don't know why I feel that way, but I do. I feel like so much of. So many of MF Dooms raps seem like they are in conversation with Mad Lib. Right, right. In the verses, it feels like he's talking. It feels like they're referencing inside jokes like it. It does, to me, feel as if they spent a lot of time together. So if I had been quizzed and asked if they'd spent a lot of time together, I would have said yes, but I guess I would have been wrong because I don't actually know. I think I did read somewhere that like on every other project, Doom is talking to himself in essence or just to an imagined listener, but specifically on Mad Villainy, he is talking to Mad Lib. I think that I think you're on to something there. And I think there's something. There's just such a rapport between them on that record. It does feel like they're bouncing ideas back and forth. Like like Mad Lib flips an old jazz standard and then an old jazz standard starts playing like there's just a lot of that interplay that I think you have to establish somehow. Yeah. And to me, like I just have this vision of my mind of them like sitting on a rooftop somewhere, sharing a blunt like I have. Pictures in my mind of, you know, Mad Lib on a on a SP 303 and Doom on a NPC and the same like I just they feel like the same person, you know, and there's so many overlaps with them. They're both MC and producer, obviously, though, the needle is different in in in either case, they both have alter egos. They just have so much of what it seems to be a shared aesthetic that's just right in line with each other that to me, it seems like they hung out all the time. Listening to Mad Villainy now, what do you think they brought out of each other? You know, Dooms already made half a dozen more than that. Like just dooms got such a chaotic catalog already by the time this record comes out. You know, Mad Lib's worked with, you know, Loot Pack, you know, Quasimodo, yesterday's new quintet. They've got established careers. What's different about their approaches, both of them on this project? Like what did they bring out of each other? Working with Mad Lib, I would say because Dooms had self produced Operation Doomsday. He had worked with, I think, the heat sensors on the Victor Vaughn album. And food came out the same year, but I can't remember which one came out first. But that's another self released one, except for I think Count Base D and maybe Mad Lib has a beat on that, too. So it seems as if Mad Lib is maybe the best producer that Dooms had worked with up until that point, unless I'm forgetting about somebody. And so it feels like he was positioned uniquely to just focus on the raps in a way where he could get really almost deeper than ever into the MFDOOM persona as a recording artist, because he don't have to worry about the beats at all. It really feels like the MCing side of MFDOOM is like fully unleashed on this project. And I wouldn't know what to say about, you know, the the the other side of that coin, except that. Matt, it sounds like Mad Lib at his most adventurous in terms of his digging. And it feels very real time. It feels very like he picked up a record, sampled it, threw drums on it. Like everything felt very raw and very fearless in terms of how madly it was constructing these beats and with no attention paid to where it's where it's come from and whether or not these sounds go together or not in a way where it's not. Overproduced, it's not overthought. And I'm not sure if that's something that Doom brought out of Mad Lib or if it was just kind of where he was, but it just seemed like that's that's where the perfect melding of styles comes in. Is Madville in the best doom album, the best doom project? So this is what I'll say to that. It is widely considered the best one. Yes. And I don't necessarily agree with that. OK. But I also can't argue with. Like, so I think it's literally one of those instances where. It's widely seen as the best, but it's not really my favorite one. So I don't want to call it the best for me. OK. But I see no hill to stand on to say that it's not the best for anybody else. OK, so that said, what is your favorite? Oh, it's really tough. But I mean, probably the most the one the one that I come back to the most is food. It's probably the one that I come back to the most of my own personal enjoyment. Hmm. Very good. The concept there is very solid, right? You know, like, what is it about? What is it about food? Are you just just the gourmand in you is attracted to that one? Or what is it about that record? What does gourmand mean? Is that about eating gourmet? That is about eating. Yes, that's all right. I don't even know if I'm using that word correctly. But let's assume that I know what I'm talking about as well. Are you a foodie? So what you're talking about that I am. I am not a foodie, so that is not why. Unfortunately, OK, I prefer doom best. Like, to me, the essential doom is doom rapping over his own beats. Like, to me, those are the pure doom albums. So Operation Doomsday, food born like this, like that's doom to me. So to me, food is like the pinnacle of him perfectly honing the MF doom approach to writing and recording and the doom sound where you could tell he's recording himself, there's no other engineer. It might not even be a studio like right. Well, beats out of the MPC. Like, to me, food is the peak. The peak doom raps doom beats. OK, on a project. I when doom passed, you wrote this incredibly beautiful tribute to him. A song just called For Doom, you know, that you put out. And on that song, you say we knew what it was since Peach Fuzz in the eighth grade. You know, so you were on him from the beginning. Can you talk a little bit about, you know, KMD, you know, the Mr. Hood album and like just what you thought of him when you first heard him, which was all the way at the beginning. So I knew what it was since Peach Fuzz in the eighth grade. Sort of overstates my relationship with early KMD because I was like, you know, and I even say eighth grade for the rhyme, but I was probably like nine when I first heard Peach Fuzz. And to me, it was that was a song that was part of the milieu of watching videos on rap, sitting on BET, on TV raps at the time. And it was positioned on the native tongue side of things where it felt like it went along with that. But I never I didn't hear. I didn't hear that KMD album for many years after that. So I didn't have that relationship with that material specifically or where where I keyed in on ZEVLOVX and sub rock. I just thought, oh, Peach Fuzz, that's a cool song. I like it when that one comes on the video show, but I didn't I didn't have the same relationship to that album as I would other stuff from that era. OK, so when Operation Doomsday comes out, when he sort of reemerges and reemerges as MF Dooms, you make the immediate connection. This is the Peach Fuzz guide. You come to that record with the entire sort of KMD saga, you know, black bastards, you know, sub rock passing like, do you is it immediately the same guy to you or is it Operation Doomsday and those early singles? Like just the year zero of the doom persona. And you sort of start with a clean slate with this person. Did I know that MF Dooms was ever love X? Absolutely not. I had zero idea. So the first MF Dooms song I heard and had to be 97 was the single version of Dead Bent, which I heard on WHPK radio. I fell asleep taping the rap show because it was on late at night. I woke up the next morning and I'm on the train on the way to school playing my tape of last night and I get to this song and it's super and this raw beat comes on. And this dude starts rapping. And it was sort of in line with a lot of what was happening in underground hip hop at the time when you think about like, you know, cool Keith is Dr. Octagon and and and some of like the raw, raucous stuff with like Thurston Howl, the third, like that, that sort of of of side of things. But there was something that just felt very different about it, too, that I couldn't even put my finger on, but I kept playing that song over and over again. And then a couple of weeks later, almost the exact same thing happened with the single version of Greenbacks, where like I go to sleep, taping the radio show, I wake up and playing it on the way to school and I am already one. And and this Isaac Hayes sample starts and this guy is just like going crazy on it. And it sounds so dark and energetic, but it also sounds like it's him and a bunch of other dudes having fun. I don't know who any of these people are, but like I'm learning from the the radio station hosts, the DJs, that this is somebody named MF Doom. So then I'm just searching for all the MF Doom that I can find. I end up in either 97 or 98 getting an issue of the magazine Ego Trip, which is probably, in my opinion, the greatest rap magazine of all time. And in it, there's an interview with MF Doom. And this is when he's got the old the old mask that used to cut the first mouth up. Like it was it was. Yeah, it was it was a bad time. He had his mask on, but he had to he had the big puffy jacket with the fur around the side of the hood. It just was a dope crazy visual. And I believe it's from that article that I learned about his history. And I learned about him like that this was part of a reemergence of a person who had been around before. So yeah, I learned all of that in real time over like 97 and 98. Who Doom was, what his story was, and was able to start putting things back together from there. And Operation Doomsday, you know, the Doom character is explicitly a comic book character, right? And this is the late 90s. Like there are blockbuster comic book movies. But this is before, you know, the MCU, right? Like comic books are not at the center of culture. Like they would be just 10, 15 years ago. In terms of his aesthetic, you know, I think a comic book like sampling scooby-doo, just the cartoons, you know, his association with Cartoon Network later in his career. Like did his did he feel like a subcultural product in that era just coming strictly, you know, specifically out of comic books, out of cartoons, that kind of thing, like in the mid to late 90s. And underground rap, it didn't feel that out of this world. It didn't feel that out of the field to have somebody with comic book references. Like I never really even paid much attention to that. It just always sounded like the same. Like it sounded like the same sort of approach to sampling for aesthetic that like RZA would use with the Wu Tang. It was it was that sort of seasoning. And it, you know, I didn't I never dug too deep on it because rap, especially underground rap, has sort of always had an obsession with 70s and 80s comics and cartoons. Yes, you listen to a lot of that early Wu Tang. There's a lot of like repurposing of cartoon intros, sampling underdog and, you know, repurposing those lyrics into hooks and things. I think that, you know, there's a part of hip hop that is about or, I mean, obviously not for every hip hop artist before many hip hop artists. That's about like, oh, what? What did I used to watch on TV growing up? Like what did I sit in front of the TV and watch in like the late 70s, early 80s and all of that makes its way back into the work. And to me, Doom was just another extension of that. It felt it all felt very Prince Paul adjacent to me. Sure, of course. Of course. Like the same sort of sampling for aesthetic as as what would happen with with daylight, just a different a different source. So maybe the biggest differentiator here is the mask itself. And so as a rapper yourself, is there any part of you that wishes that you also wore a 25 pound metal mask everywhere? Like that combination of being instantly recognizable and then completely unrecognizable without it is really interesting to me. Just that dichotomy that he had from the very beginning. What did you make of the mask as a new development in hip hop? Maybe I think 25 pounds is too many pounds. First of all, I think I agree. I completely agree. You should do you should do a mask is lighter than that. That seems like it'd be very heavy on the next. So so that would be. Sure. I I as as a person who often finds himself feeling like the most accessible rapper in the universe. Right. Like like sure. I feel like there's not a rapper who people can think of who they feel like feel confident they can reach out to. They can email you anytime. I'm like, it's right. Present company included, I suppose. Yes. Sorry about that. We're ruining the mistake right here. Don't you worry. No, that's the thing. There is no mistake with me. That's my exact point. Because I don't have. OK. And so. All right. So in in that sense, I see so much value in not having a face publicly. Like that is something I deeply envy is having that bit of separation between who I am as a person and and what the musical output is. And I think there's so many benefits to it. And I and doom, I don't think it's the like when I think of the the faceless person, I actually think it goes face first because I remember he was trying to do. Of course, he was early. Woo albums. He was trying to not show his face. There's there's so like Billy. Look at Billy Woods. Like there's there's so many. That's right. Benefits to it. Not only in the protection of one's own humanity and soul versus what, you know, versus the forces you get exposed to by putting work out there, which your face associated with it, I think there's a there's another benefit where. You take. The person out of it in a way where suddenly. For people, it feels like there could be anybody behind that mask. Which leads to this other underlying thought, which is it could be everybody behind that mask. So no matter what you look like, what your rap ability is, what you, you know, what you sound like with you, what you do all day. There's room for you at this table because this table isn't about a specific person. Like it really opens up the appeal, I think. In a way that's hard to even. It's hard to describe, but I think I think there's a there's an added benefit of giving people more room to buy into what you're doing, because it is not bound to one person's face. And I guess that leads us to the doom bot aspect of this conversation. Your song about doom when he passed ends with you holding up this photograph, this prized photograph you have of MF doom, which you realize in real time in this song is not really him. There was an era. Right. There was a time when doom, you would go to a doom show and you would realize that it's another guy in the mask impersonating doom, which is a very funny abstract idea and not very funny. I imagine if you're in that crowd having paid money to see your favorite rapper and it's clearly not him. What do you make of the doom bot scheme? So because of who I am in this indie space, I actually know way more about that than I should. OK. And I can't say everything I know about it, but I can say this. OK. I saw doom three times. I saw doom one time for real and two times for failure. Wow. That's a tough percentage. That's a 33 percent actual doom percentage. That's tough. Because two out of the three were paid for two. So. I. The one time I paid and it wasn't him, I was real mad. Sure. I tell the story on a song that I have with Billy Woods, Mocha Only and Elucid. It's on a Billy Woods and Blackhead's first album. I talk. I tell the story of going to the show. This was a New Year's Eve show in LA. Jesus. I'm talking. Packed. This is a terrible story waiting to bring in the New Year with us from one of the rappers of all time. And he came out there. It was it was him and four other people. He never took the mic away from his face once. Like even when there was no music playing between songs, he kept the mic up to his mouth to be safe and right. And the four do's are with him overdubbed literally every bar. And it was just the DJ just playing doom songs. Like there was no no instrumental. It was just playing doom songs. And so we all figured out the jig was up real soon and everybody was real mad. They was real mad. They spent all that money and waited in line and bought expensive drinks to come be mocked by this by this false performance. Now. My anger, my frustration at the time, was informed by a thought of thinking, oh, this guy who's my favorite rapper thinks it's funny that a bunch of people spent money to see him. And he thinks that it's OK because he's a villain as his persona to send these fake people. And this is all a thing that he's just going to sit back and count his money and not really care about how his fans feel. Now, what I've learned and again, I can't say everything I know about this, but I've learned that. This was after he had gotten basically deported. Right. Right. So there was a period of time and he had went on a European tour and he always knew that if he went on a European tour, there was a chance he was not going to be allowed back in the country because he technically was not born here, even though he grew up here his whole life. So he knew that that was a chance. And he took that chance to do the European tour and he came back and he wasn't allowed in the country. Now, from that point forward, there were plenty of shows that were booked already. And to be honest, a few more that were booked knowing that he wasn't going to be able to do. Sure. Sure. But my experience of it retroactively softened once I understood that these these were shows that he was not able to do and did not want to cancel because ultimately he was trying to feed his family still. So that part I do understand. I hated the packaging of it and I hated how he talked about it after the fact because it seemed mad disrespectful. But the more I found out about it, the more I began to understand. I understand I still I still don't think it was a great idea, obviously. But I have a different perspective on it now than I did back then. Did that New Year's show like end in a riot or a riot? Not a riot. So so that show was hosted by some underground L.A. legends, including some project blow. People I know, Medusa was on the stage. I want to say Mike and nine and some other people were too. And they fed off the crowd's anger and just freestyle the night away. It was incredible. Like they they were able to sort of feel our anger. They were angry, too. On behalf of rappers, sure, they were upset that that this guy just seemingly came and pulled a heist on everybody like that. Like they didn't they didn't even like being associated with that. So they took it upon themselves to put on a real hardcore, long lasting, lyrical display that whole night to sort of overcompensate for the BS that we were all put through. OK, well, I'm glad to hear that I'm relieved. Just a final question. This is sort of related like there's in the J. Dilla book, Dilla Time, there's this incredible story about Dilla's funeral where MF Doom stands up and says that he had a dream that Dilla came to him in a dream and said that they should do a posthumous collaboration and that Doom should keep most of the royalties. Like Doom just says this in the middle of like a funeral or a wake or something. And I in addition to being like eccentric in a way that we associate with Doom, like Doom is hustling constantly. Doom is rapping to make money. You look at his catalog like every album is on a different label. You know, it's just a struggle to be a working rapper, even for somebody at his level. And as a working rapper yourself, like what did Doom teach you about how hard it is to do this for money? Well, you know, it's and to be honest, it's harder now to do than it was when he was establishing that pathway. But that is like I think you keyed in on one of the most important lessons. I mean, for as much as we talk about. Um. The psychological benefit of having these different alter egos and personas and ways to present yourself and how advanced that is for rap to take it that far. There was a legal reason to have an MF Doom, a King Ghidorah, a Victor Vaughn, Madvillain, because technically these are all different artists, which can go on different labels. So, you know, as was the standard in his era, like, you know, a label would want to sign you to a three, four, five album deal. So this was a way to be able to take those type of deals and still put out work through other means. And I think like that's. I mean, honestly, at this point, a lot of that sort of thing has softened, especially in indie spaces where nobody's trying to lock you up like that. And people aren't really trying to be too restrictive about what you can or can't do. And you want to be respectful of the investment that these labels put into your, your name and your likeness, considering they are like provided they are investing resources into you. But I think everybody, everybody's much more realistic now about how hard it is to make a living. And so if you're able to be as productive as an MF, it wasn't 2004. So like, I mean, I'm food, mad villain. Victor Vaughn all came out in the same year, which meant that, you know, the year previous, he had to be tearing ass making records, like, yes, if you can do that, then there's a lot more options. I mean, it's not that it becomes magically easier to make money. But if the main vehicle is to put out work, then you got to work. Right. You know, and his, his approach sort of taught a lot of us how we can make this work for us. What do you make of his legacy? You know, just a few years on from his death, you know, there's a mad villain. There's an AI ad now with like a, I think it's all caps. It's like a loop from a mad villainy song. Like, do you, is MF dooms reputation growing even more, you know, the longer we go on and there's no one who can replace him? Like, what do you see about how people are hearing him differently, possibly now versus even five years ago? It's interesting. MF Doom is the only rapper that I listen to that. My son and his friends list like the only one. That includes me. I'm sorry. That's very funny, but I am sorry. It is. But but that's that's the MF Doom is in a rare air of indie rappers where. I just talked to you about me hearing his first my first experience with his singles in 1997. I don't think that there is another artist I can think of who. Started their journey in 97. Underground underground rappers started in 97. That is able been able to reach these sort of heights and still be climbing. I think it's completely unprecedented. I think the iconography is a part of that. I think that that level of symbology, the level of mystique, but it does all come back to the work, though. It all comes back to the work. It all comes back to like an unconventional, truly raw approach to beats and rhymes that other people kind of got close to or hinted at, but he went all the way there. And I think like. You know, for all the talk of of of KMD, I'm not sure KMD could have did this. KMD was still very much operating within the structures of what was allowed. Right. Then MF Doom didn't care. MF Doom, a sample of Beatles and turn that into the record label. Like y'all do something about it. You know what I'm saying? Like, no, the things he went through as a person. Put him in a situation where it was like all or nothing. Like so MF Doom was completely uncompromising in his vision of what he felt like a rap song should sound like in a way that I don't think anybody else has ever really approached. Like there's you know, I think there's there's some people who approach that with raps who have approached that with raps and some people who have approached that with beats, but as a singular entity. But both. I just don't think we've seen it. Right. Your son will get into you eventually, Mike. I do think it's me. Like he was, you know, oh, OK, all right. When he was a little kid, it was great. It was so cute when he would listen to me when he was a little kid. Now he rebukes. He rebukes. Yeah. Yes. I'm sorry to hear that he'll come back around. This is all right. No, it's all right. No, no, no, I love that he has his own taste. OK. Yes. Yes. If my if my if my musical self-esteem depended on my son enjoying my music, I'd be in a terrible state, terrible, terrible state. You're doing OK. You're you're managing. I think so. Despite this. Thank you so much. That's for sure. Thank you. Thanks very much to our guests this week. Open Mike Eagle. Thanks to our producers, Olivia, the Creary, Justin Sales and Chris Sutton. Additional production by Kevin Poole, animations and graphics by Chris Calliton. Additional art by Matt James and special thanks to Cole Kushner. And thanks to you for listening and watching. And now please, let's all go listen to All Caps by Mad Villain. See you next week.