Picture it: Gastown, 1999. I'm on my way to Sonar to see Q-Bert or the local DMC Elimination or some other turntable ish. Word on the street is DJ A-Trak, the then child prodigy turntablist would be doing an exhibition at the show.
Then:
On Carrall Street, I notice a solitary figure. A skinny lost looking teen, wearing an oversized t-shirt, baseball cap that makes him look like a cancer kid and backpack (two-straps the way only the backpackers did back then). It's A-Trak. Not the confident "sunglasses is a must" pussy-getter who drops simplistic club bangers today, but the uncool French-speaking teenager who used his Barmitzvah money to buy a set of turntables and then spent the next four years indoors nerding out to become one of the most technically proficient skratchers ever to be seen. The kid who always looked awkward raising his skinny stick arms out of his XL LRG shirt in his raise the roof (cuz that's how we did in 1999) pose after his set.
He was too young to hang out in the bar, only allowed in to perform his set. Now, he's on top of the world, having dropped the technicality and man on man masturbatory excitement of skratching for 4/4 beats and Lil Wayne samples (ladies be lovin' it). Now he wears cool fedoras and Fred perry shirts, hangs out with black guys and has one of those razors that Lenny Kravitz uses that makes it look like you got permanent 4 day beard growth. Now he's never alone when touring and the bottles pop along with the cherries.
Just remember, he invented a notation system for skratching and knows where Bambaataa got his breaks from - he ain't just another ugly dude with Serrato and some skinny jeans tucked into Dunks. It's all a mirage, he's a geek.
Now:
LOL!
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