September 18-24, 2003

music

Blak to the Future

AIN’T GOT THAT BLING: "The underground is putting out just as much garbage as the pop, commercial, the jiggy and the thug rappers. It’s boring and there’s no substance," says Baby Blak. "I think I’m middle ground." Photo By: Michael T. Regan

West Philly MC Baby Blak makes adult music.

by Ainé Ardron-Doley

After the eyes look upon the cover of Baby Blak’s first solo album, the mind races. A woman is pressing her long red talons into her own naked, coal-black booty. The album’s title, Once You Go Blak, strategically hides her crack. Pornography? A gimmick to sell the record? Some kind of play on the album’s title about how "you can’t go back"?

Baby Blak speaks up with a grimace, "Someone turned in my pictures behind schedule so [the label] ran with that." Scorned by some and admired by others, the cover ass was a dubious choice. But feathers aren't too ruffled; Baby Blak's made a career out of evading and overcoming potholes for the good part of a decade.

Born Alva M. Burton, the Central High School honor student chose Temple, majoring in criminal justice. But it wasn't long before music chose him. Collaborating with Mr. Lish, he became Baby Blak, one half of the ILL Advised rap duo. Their Philly anthem, "1.9.8.6.," landed the group in the VIBE History of Hip Hop book and on the pages of The Source.

In more recent years, Blak has stepped out on his own, collaborating with big names like DJ Revolution, Jazzy Jeff and KRS-One. After releasing dozens of ILL Advised and solo singles, Once You Go Blak, released by BBE, is a milestone. West Philly's Baby is no longer teething.

While the local Roc-a-fella faction, State Property, continues tomahawking the airwaves, Blak is stealthily building a buzz among music industry elite and media alike without doggy-paddling in the stormy mainstream. "I can't relate to the watered-down commercial radio songs. I make adult music, music for people with responsibilities, people that deal with everyday life. I don't get caught up in Hollywood music," he explains, quickly clarifying: "The underground is putting out just as much garbage as the pop, commercial, the jiggy and the thug rappers. It's boring and there's no substance. I think I'm middle ground. I represent everybody -- people who take the bus and the middle class." He strives for an authenticity that is neither commercial nor underground.

On Once You Go Blak, the buttery-voiced MC roars through 17 skit-less tracks, with the internal-rhyming skill of a veteran and the hunger of a rookie. Shunning the simplistic cat-in-the-hat rhymes that MCs like Juelz Santana abuse regularly, Blak breaks it down. "I'll rhyme the first word of the first bar with the first word of the second bar, second word of the first bar and the second word of the second bar and so on, you can match every word up and they'll coincide for two measures." On "Economix," the stroke of the pen and the flick of the tongue yield a track packed with complex meters and messages, and plenty of well-placed puns: "Molested strippers, x'd and liquored on poles throwin'/ Ass wildin'/ When they should be on the poll/ Cast ballot."

Subjects range from hustling to job loss to blue-collar living and relationships; street sagas thump loudly alongside stinging sociopolitical commentary and hip-hop battle hymns. On "Wake Up," he speaks to a single mother and two young adults traveling down the wrong path in his semi-laid back cadence, carefully decrying those who live a follow-the-leader lifestyle in the 'hood. "There were three people living like that that I knew. It's three different negative situations that needed to be addressed within the social system. It's a song about guidance," he says.

At the opposite end of the spectrum, the raunchy "So Many," is a XXX-rated tale of international sexcapades. It's quintessential rap pimp shit backed by a thumping baseline. Degrading? Blak chalks it up as human nature. "It's life. Variety is a part of life," he shrugs.

With "Daddy Dearest," Blak teams with soul siren Lady Alma, offering the heartfelt childhood story of a young fatherless boy dealing with domestic violence, adultery and substance abuse. "Diamonds (Diemon)" is a condemnation of hip-hop's fascination with diamonds and the violent African jewel trade.

On the jazzy piano-backed "Economix," the chorus delves into post-Sept. 11 realities. "It's economics/ the buildings fell/ moms and pops laid off/ the stocks crashed/ we ain't got no cash/ I ain't tryin' to see you floss/ time to change."

"I wrote åEconomix' two days after 9/11, on the 13th, stuck in California and I couldn't get home because the airlines were frozen," says Blak. "I was working on my album. I came back the 23rd. It was more than just buildings falling and people dying; it's a change in this society. It happened right in front of people's eyes and they can't realize a dollar isn't worth a dollar anymore."

Looking over his debut, Blak is obviously proud. "People always talk about making hits -- I make music. It's not just about what I'm saying, it's about the whole collective record.

"This is how everybody's deal should be. I don't understand how artists have no creative control. I don't have a lot of guest appearances on my album because I wanted to be different. I didn't want to use people who are already established as a crutch. I wanted to establish myself and try to stand as an individual."

Baby Blak will perform in-store Tue., Sept. 23, 4-6 p.m., free, Armand’s, 1108 Chestnut St., second floor, 215-592-7003, and at Beat Society 8, Wed., Sept. 24, 9 p.m.-2 a.m., $7, with Last Emperor, The Five Spot, 5 S. Bank St., 215-274-0070.