FEATURE: Groovelines: The Sugarhill Gang – Rapper’s Delight

FEATURE:

 

 

Groovelines

IN THIS PHOTO: From left: Henry ‘Big Bank’ Jackson, Guy ‘Master Gee’ O’Brian, and Michael ‘Wonder Mike’ Wright, New York, 1980/PHOTO CREDIT: Anthony Barboza/Getty Images

 

The Sugarhill Gang – Rapper’s Delight

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ONE of the most important…

songs in Hip-Hop history turns forty-five soon. On 16th September, 1979, The Sugarhill Gang’s Rapper’s Delight was released. The debut single from the trio, it was produced by Sylvia Robinson. This mammoth song is credited with introducing Hip-Hop to a wide audience and the world at large. A bigger success in the U.K. than it was in the U.S., the New Jersey trio changed music. Referencing and interpolating Chic's Good Times, it did create some legal issues when The Sugarhill Gang were almost sued by Nile Rodgers and Bernard Edwards. Because this iconic song is forty-five soon, I am bringing in a few features. This NPR feature from 2000 takes us inside this one-take hit. A song that is among the most influential of all time:

"Rapper's Delight" is built on the rhythm of an earlier cultural phenomenon: disco. The groove was taken from the tune "Good Times" by Chic. The song was such a big dance hit that a small New Jersey label thought it might be able to capitalize on its popularity. All Platinum Records was co-founded by Sylvia Robinson, who'd had a few hits of her own — "Pillow Talk" and "Love Is Strange" — as part of the duo Mickey & Sylvia. But by 1979, her label was facing bankruptcy.

Robinson's son Joey says she saw a way out of Chapter 11 one night at a Harlem club.

"She saw where a DJ was talking and the crowd was responding to what he was saying, and this was the first time that she ever saw this before," Joey Robinson says. "And she said, 'Joey, wouldn't this be a great idea to make a rap record?' "

The story goes that Big Bank Hank, Wonder Mike and Master Gee met Sylvia Robinson on a Friday and recorded "Rapper's Delight" the following Monday in just one take.

The "Rapper's Delight" 12-inch was released in September 1979. It was 15 minutes long, and yet black radio started playing it — so much so that Sugarhill Gang recorded a seven-minute version for pop stations and introduced the black neighborhood sound of the 1970s to white listeners.

Harry Allen, from The Village Voice and Vibe magazine, says that, until then, rap had been for young black males with few opportunities. It gave them a way of making their voices heard.

"So what hip-hop fashioned," he says, "was a conduit whereby people who normally are locked out of telling get to tell."

But perhaps the reason "Rapper's Delight" crossed over was that it was anything but political.

"It wasn't too heavy," Wonder Mike says. "It wasn't the message that was years later. It wasn't 'bash the police' — that was years after that. What I wanted to portray was three guys having fun. We were always bragging about stuff we didn't have to impress the chicks."

Like a lot of hip-hop culture, "Rapper's Delight" created its share of controversy — starting with the fact that its playful groove did not reflect the urban anger of other rap at the time. The Sugarhill Gang was also criticized because two of its members were from New Jersey. And none of them had ever been a DJ or an MC.

"DJ AJ, Grandmaster Flash, Afrika Bambaataa, Kool Herc — all of these guys were local DJs who would do local shows here in New York," Bronx rapper Kurtis Blow says. "So when the Sugarhill Gang made it, the guys who had been doing this thing sort of felt like they were being ripped off — or, you know, 'These guys are not a part of the Bronx, and they didn't struggle to bring hip-hop to this point to 1979.' And so there was a lot of animosity toward the Sugarhill Gang in the beginning."

Despite some additional controversy surrounding who wrote the rhymes, "Rapper's Delight" is an important record. Kurtis Blow said it jump-started the careers of several Bronx rappers, including himself.

"When it came out, nothing was the same afterwards," writer Harry Allen says. "It made everything else possible. I was speaking to my good friend Chuck D, of Public Enemy, and when he first heard that there were going to be rap records, his thing was, 'How are you going to put three hours on a record?' Because that's the way MCs used to rhyme. They'd just rhyme and rhyme and rhyme for hours”.

Taking things forward to 2017, The Guardian spoke with ‘Master Gee’ and ‘Master Mike’ about making this classic. A song whose true impact and influence is almost impossible to define. Forty-five years after its release, we are still feeling and seeing the influence and power of this track. Rapper’s Delight is a track that can never be dated. It sounds so fresh and original, we will be listening to it for decades to come:

Guy ‘Master Gee’ O’Brien, songwriter-rapper

When I was in 10th grade in New Jersey, I went to a party and heard someone talking rhythmically through a mic. “That’s rapping,” he said. “That’s what they’re doing in New York.” I had started DJ-ing to make some money and added rapping to my repertoire.

At this point, it was something we did at parties. Nobody thought of it as commercial. Then Sylvia Robinson, founder of the hip-hop label Sugar Hill, decided to make a record, and looked for talent in New Jersey, where she was living. Big Bank Hank rapped and made pizzas, so she auditioned him in front of the pizza parlour. I rapped in her car, then Wonder Mike was next. “I can’t choose,” she said. “So I’ll put you all together.”

Chic’s Good Times was great to rap to. The tempo was right and the bassline was high. That became the basis of Rapper’s Delight. The intro came from Here Comes That Sound Again by a British group named Love De-Luxe. There were no samplers at the time, so the backing track was laid down by Sugar Hill signees Positive Force, who played the Chic rhythm, which we rapped over. I was unknown, but figured if I rapped about “foxy ladies and pretty girls” it would get me more attention. It worked. My line about being the “baddest rapper” was wishful thinking, though.

Chic’s Nile Rodgers wasn’t happy, but he now says Rapper’s Delight is one of his favourite tracks. It is one of his most lucrative – we gave him a credit. Then it turned out that Hank’s rhymes had been written by another MC, Grandmaster Caz. We’ve given him credit in public and done shows with him, and he’s cool about it. But I’m sure it bothers him every time he hears it.

I thought we’d made the first rap record. Then I was at a party and heard the Fatback Band’s King Tim III, which featured rapping with singing. I thought someone had beat us to the punch. But they’d made it a B-side. Ours became a smash.

Michael ‘Wonder Mike’ Wright, songwriter-rapper

At parties, guys would pass mics around for hours, so rapping for 20 minutes in a studio seemed like nothing. When we made the record we kept coming up with clever things and the producers never stopped us. The finished recording was 19 minutes long, all the rap done in one take, but we cut it to 15, making the intro shorter and cutting out some party noise.

My rap was part planned, part spontaneous. I wanted the start to be powerful and was inspired by that old sci-fi show The Outer Limits, which began: “There is nothing wrong with your television set. Do not attempt to adjust the picture.” So my introduction went: “Now what you hear is not a test, I’m rappin’ to the beat.” And, because I wanted to appeal everyone, I said: “I’d like to say hello to the black, to the white, the red and the brown.”

One line was a spoken drum roll: 'To the bang-bang boogie, say up jump the boogie to the rhythm of the boogie, the beat'

No one has ever been able to ascertain whether Lovebug Starski or the Furious Five’s Keith “Cowboy” Wiggins came up with the term hip-hop, but I’d heard the phrase through my cousin and just started going: “Hip-hop, hippie to the hippie, to the hip-hip-hop and you don’t stop.” The part where I go, “To the bang-bang boogie, say up jump the boogie to the rhythm of the boogie, the beat” is basically a spoken drum roll. I liked the percussive sound of the letter B.

When I was seven, I saw the Beatles’ film, A Hard Day’s Night, with all the screaming girls. When Rapper’s Delight hit, there was a lot of hysteria. We were in a record shop and the manager had to ferry us out through the back. I remember thinking: “Man, this is just like A Hard Day’s Night”.

I am going to end with a 2023 article from SPIN. Taking things more up to date, this is a new perspective from ‘Wonder Mike’. So interesting reading how Rapper’s Delight came together. On 16th September, we mark forty-five years since the release of a seminal record. It is not too grand to say that it changed the course of music history. I discovered the song when I was young and was fascinated from that first listen. A unique and timeless track:

Rags to Riches…Literally

I was between residences when we recorded that song and when I auditioned. Miss Robinson didn’t know who to pick. She originally wanted one rapper, but we all went up there. We were up at her house until like 3:30 or 4:00 in the morning. She said she couldn’t decide, so she put all three of together to make the group. She said three was her favorite number because she had seen groups in the past with three members like the Moments and some other people. That was a Friday night — and she didn’t bullshit.

On Monday, we went down to the studio and a group called Positive Force laid down the music. It took about eight hours. They played everything for 15 minutes — actually 19 — and we cut it down to 15. And then we went in there and did our parts. I was on the left, Hank was in the middle, and Gee was on the right. That was it.

I was still homeless when I recorded “Rapper’s Delight.” We listened to it until about 4:00 a.m., and everybody said, “I think we might have a hit here.” And I said, “Play it again!” I had nowhere to go. I thought to myself, “Well, I can kill two hours and then go to the diner or something when it opens.” But everybody started leaving, and I was pretending I was waiting on my cousin in the parking lot of the studio, but I was really going to go across the street to the park. Miss Robinson pulled up and said, “Hey, Mike, what are you doing?” I told her I was waiting on a ride from my cousin. She said, “No, you’re not. You’re going to sleep in that park.” I was like, “Oh, wow.” I couldn’t say anything. She said “jump in,” and I went from the park to her eight-bedroom, Spanish-style mansion up on a hill.

I was emotionally blank when she said that. I was like, “Oh, damn, I don’t want anybody to know this shit.” But she’s driving a Rolls-Royce, and I know she’s got money because she’s Sylvia Robinson. Pride is foolish. It’s the original sin. This was August. Next month was September, and the seasons were getting colder. I thought, “Nope, I’m getting in the car—nevermind this pride mess.” I got to her house, everybody was asleep and she went to bed. I was down in the kitchen, and there were some dinner rolls that were rising on the counter. I didn’t know anything about rising rolls, and to me, they were half-baked. So, I ate 10 half-bakedrolls. To me, it tasted like steak.

All Night Long

There was nothing hard about making this record. Nineteen minutes wasn’t nothing to us because we’re used to throwing parties—that’s forever on record. But it didn’t feel like anything to us because we were used to rapping all night. All of us were instrumental in making the song. It was collaborative effort. I was influenced by hunger pangs in my stomach. I was influenced by looking up at night and seeing the stars instead of a ceiling.

To tell you the truth, I was never insecure. But I knew my bad luck had to turn around somehow. I was trying to make it turn around. I was working at a candy factory, moving furniture, breaking up swimming pools and hauling them away. I was going to go into the Air Force, but then I heard about the audition. I was the last one to audition, but we all got the job. And that was that.

Working Like A Dog

I was 22 years old when “Rapper’s Delight” came out. Fifteen years earlier, at just seven years old, I went to see A Hard Day’s Nightwith the Beatles. Women were going nuts and screaming and all that, and that’s what they did at our shows. It was like deja vu. And the Saturday after our first two shows, Miss Robinson took us to 225thStreet in Harlem. We got a bunch of clothes and we walked around, and we kept hearing “Rapper’s Delight” in the stores…from different radio stations in cars, barber shops, butchers, clothing stores, buses, tow trucks—everybody was playing it. But we knew we had a hit the night we recorded it because nobody had ever done it. They hadn’t heard this yet.

Living the Dream

It’s crazy because there are a million hip-hop groups now, and there’s been like six…seven different genres, time periods, and styles. The first voice they heard on this record was mine, Michael Wright, son of Dolores and William, who grew up in Newark. Me. We used to sing Beatles songs after school and the girls would chase us just like A Hard Day’s Night. I dug it. Next thing I know, it’s happening in real life. I’m living it.

Mike Vs. Wonder Mike

I catch myself sometimes just in awe of what I’ve accomplished. But when I’m at home, I take the trash out, whatever, and I don’t trip about this business. I’m just Mike at home. When I cross a threshold into that arena into that world, I have a healthy respect for my position in this business.

Before There Was Instagram…

We didn’t have an official music video for “Rapper’s Delight,” but somebody filmed our performance one night at the Soap Factory in New Jersey. It was right next to Route 80. They used to actually make soap and then it turned into a coffee shop. By September 1979, when we performed there, it was a club. But seeing the video doesn’t elicit anything nostalgic anymore. It used to. But I’ve seen it a trillion times and I remember that night. That’s about it. But if it’s a good day, hearing “Rapper’s Delight” takes me back to the early days when the song was new. And, you know, the girls would chase us off the stage before we finished, and we’d have to run out the alley. Those are good memories.

Chic Regrets

Nobody went about it doing it the right way as far as getting written permission and all that. If you’re going to cover a song, I think that’s different. I don’t think you have to get permission to cover a song, but if you use part of a song to make a new song by you, then you gotta straighten that shit out.

Some things worked out and some things never will because of how they were situated the first time. When we first dropped the record, our names and Miss Robinson’s name was on it—not Nile Rogers and Bernard Edwards. They sued. We said, “Okay,” but the next round of records had only their names and none of ours. I think it stayed like that for like 40 years. We were like, “No way, Motherfucker. You didn’t write any of our lyrics. We did. Put our name on it.” We didn’t write the music and I’m a fair person, so we put your names on it. You didn’t write any of the lyrics, so put our names on it. But we didn’t redo “Good Times.” We should have just had what Chic sang, then it wouldn’t have been a problem. But we made a new song using their shit. I’m glad they finally gave Curtis Brown [Grandmaster Caz] his props. He wrote all of Hank’s raps. We’re still getting love off of it.

I Said-a Hip, Hop

My advice to my younger self would be to keep writing. I got married and had four kids. That was 13 years where I wasn’t doing anything with music. Nothing. I was moving furniture, painting houses and refinishing wood floors. which I loved because it was my company. I didn’t work for anybody. But when I got divorced, I kind of gave my ex-wife the company and I was like, “I’m not going back to being assedout.” So, I got back with the guys and started touring.

My relationship with Master Gee is good. I don’t have any relationship with Hank obviously because he died [in 2014], but me and Gee are still tight. In fact, we were still going out until I got sick last year. Sugarhill Gang still goes out, but they have a replacement for me right now. People are understanding because who the fuck sticks together for 40-something years? That’s rare. When you think about it Journey was together for 10 years, we were together for 43. But yeah, I gotta get back on stage—and I will”.

If we look at hip-Hop songs and those that define the genre, everyone will have their own opinions and thoughts. When it comes to those that moved things forward and did more to push the genre to new people I don’t think that Rapper’s Delight can be beaten! The debut single from The Sugarhill Gang, their incredible song has done more than any other. I don’t think that any Hip-Hop song is…

AS important as this.