Smurf Dance WARNING: THIS IS AN EXCERPT FROM A TRUE STORY. EXPLICIT LANGUAGE. MAY NOT BE SUITABLE FOR PERSONS UNDER 18 YEARS OLD. A Dance Called the Smurf   In 1982 I was struggling. Roller Skater Rap and Big Apple Rappin were out but I wasnt seeing any money off of those records. It seemed like my dreams were just that: dreams, figments of my imagination that would never come to fruition.   I was depressed because my life wasnt going anywhere. I wasnt working so I was bummin money off of my grandmother and my boys; I was so bad that it got to the point where, even my boys were saying that I was sorry. Except they werent saying I was sorry, they were saying I was sorr, there was no y at the end of sorry when they were describing me, theyd just say, Yo man, you sorr. And I dont blame them. I was skinnier than normal and my hair was wild. Whenever I got high back then, somebody had to pay for my beer or weed. I was broker than shit.   At that time I was depressed over a number of things. At the top of the list was my daughters mother Dottie, she had gotten married and left town with our daughter. I had no idea where they were. When she and I were together as teenagers my dream was to be a ball player, but she couldnt relate to a nigga with dreams, she wanted a man with something more concrete, like a nice paying job with benefits. But that wasnt the path I was on.   One day, not too long before she got married, her man confronted me on the block. He walked up to me and told me that since they were together, it was best that I went about my way. This guy was headed to the Army and all kinds of other stuff they had plans for the future. As mad as I was at that moment, for some reason, I didnt do or say anything. I let it go. Mind you, he was in my neighborhood, if I wanted to I couldve made it so that he wouldnt have walked out of there on his own. But I didnt, often times I regret that decision.    Not too long after that I was hanging out on the block with my boys drinking beer and cracking the usual jokes, when all of a sudden, I saw my girl and her man coming up the block pushing my daughter in the stroller. The closer they got, the more I noticed that they werent slowing down to let me see my little girl. In fact, they werent looking at me at all. It was as if I wasnt there. They just kept on walking passed me and up the block like I didnt exist. That shit hurt me real deep. My boys could tell from looking at me that I was not in the joking mood at that moment. That situation haunted me for years; no woman had a fair chance in a relationship with me after that.   While I was going through this period in my life there was only one person who recognized what I was going through and offered me advice. He was one of the most unlikely people to be advising me or anyone else. As far as I was concerned he looked like the black version of Kojak, he was my next-door neighbor Ernie. My family could not stand him and didnt like the idea that I was talking to him. Ernie was a dope fiend who talked like an old jazz musician from the 60s. I never understood why the women in my house treated him so bad. As bad off as Ernie was he was the only person that offered me any kind of advice. One day while we were sitting outside talking he looked at me and saw how pitiful I was looking and said in that nasally dope-fiend voice of his, Yo son, you gotta do something. Even he saw that I was turning into a bum. Ernie took it upon himself to try and lead me in the right direction.  The way he did that was by introducing me to Dr. Dees, a prominent black physician who had a segment on Fox News. How Ernie knew Dr. Dees, I didnt know, but it was through Dr. Dees that I met Ms. Wright, who gave me a job with an organization that she ran called Concerned Citizens of Bricktown.   That job was the turning point in my life. They paid me 120 bucks a week. I finally had some money in my pocket.   For the longest time I had an idea in my head for a song called Aint Nuttin But a Party. Vaughn Mason, who had been mentoring me on a lot of technical type shit, had just got some money back for his taxes, and had bought this new drum machine called the Roland 808.   He called me up and told me to come out to his house in New Jersey. When I got there, he said, Yo, come down stairs I got this new shit you gotta see. When I saw that drum machine I was in shock, because it looked futuristic. It had these lights and pads and dials, it was the most awesome machine I had ever seen. When I hit the pads I heard this really tremendous bass drum sound, it couldve damn near shook the house, thats how powerful it was.   Vaughn looked at me and said, Theres only one way youre going to learn to use this shit and thats by doing it, so go for it.   I was like a kid in a candy store. I sat there for hours trying to figure out how to program this thing. Id see the lights moving to the beat, so Id hit a pad and then hit another, and then wait to see what the machine would do. I started noticing that the lights and the beats were lining up, so I started coming up with this pattern: Boom, pap, ba boom boom, boom boom, pap, ba boom boom; I sat there for a long time just listening to that. And then I added this hi- hat to the first measure. I liked that, I wanted to do a drum roll using the hats, just like you would do with a snare, but I messed up on it. But after sitting there listening to it, I decided to leave it alone. Shit, even though I had fucked up it still sounded good.   Vaughn also had a keyboard in his basement so I started messing around with that too. I had come up with this bass line, which fit that beat perfectly. I sat there listening to what I was doing and then I stopped. I said to myself Oh shit son, you got something here!   It was late at night and I damn near broke my neck running up those basement steps to get Vaughn. Vaughn, and his girl, and his friend, Butch Dayo, were upstairs playing cards. I ran up there all excited and shit, Vaughn was leaned back in his seat sipping his drink, and when he saw me he looked up at me and said, Yo whats up Spy, did you figure that shit out yet? The nigga was leaned back like he was winning, but I know Butch was kicking his ass.   I said, Vaughn man, you gotta hear this shit man, I got something here son.   Vaughn looked at me, and then looked at his cards, and looked over at Butch and said, Rookies always think they got something!   Nah man, you aint hearin me Vaughn, this shit is def man.   This shit is def huh? Well lets go see what you got rookie.   So we get down to the basement and I hit the play button on the drum machine. The beat starts up, I walk over to the keyboard and find the keys I was looking for: and then I started playing. I could see Vaughn out of the corner of my eye sitting in a chair with his arms folded; he was silently nodding his head to the beat. When I finished I looked over at Vaughn, he looked like he wasnt all that impressed, but then he said to me, Thats alright rookie, thats alright. He was saying that under his breath as he got up and stepped over to the keyboard, he started messing around with the melody that I had done, doing different variations of it. And then all of a sudden, he stopped. He walked part way up the basement steps and called out to Butch.   When Butch came downstairs he said, Check this out man. And played everything back for him. Butch was immediately feeling what we had going and suggested other changes. We were in that basement until like 4 or 5 oclock in the morning. After we had made a few changes and ironed a few things out, Vaughn looked up at me and said, You got any rhymes for this home boy?   I said, Of course, I have notebooks full of rhymes.   He said, Oh yeah, well bring them to the studio with you tomorrow night were gonna cut this tomorrow. For now though you better get some sleep, you can crash here tonight if you want.   I could see the wheels turning in his head, when all of a sudden he said, So look, how about this, lets do a production deal,   I was thinking: a production deal; cool, Im with it. He said wed cut the writing and publishing up into thirds. Im thinking to myself thirds? Is this nigga crazy? I said, Thirds? You mean half right, 50 for you and 50 for me, right?   No, Butch gets a cut too.   That isnt my problem, that sounds like that shit is between yall.   What did I say that for, cause here comes Butch   Wait, holdup I gotta hand in this production too.   This went on for a while, this song was like blood in the water and the sharks were circling. I told them we could talk about it tomorrow.   I sat there that night lying on Vaughns couch thinking about all the years I had been hustling in this rap shit. I thought about all of the doors that had been closed to me. I thought about all of the nights that I had rode the trains to the Bronx and Manhattan by myself to perform in clubs in some of the worse parts of the city.  I thought about all of my boys back in Hollis who teased me while I was chasing my dreams. I thought about my daughter and her mother Dottie, and how I was going to really show them what I had done with my life, if I ever got the chance to see them again. I thought about my family: my grandmother, who never once stopped believing in me. I thought about my parents and all I had put them through while I was growing up. This was my chance to make everything happen. This one was going to work. It had to work.   So, I went back home to Hollis to pick up my notebooks and take a shower, when I was leaving I passed those niggas on the corner. French Pat yelled out to me, Yo Spy, yo what up man, we going in on a package, whats up are you down or what home boy?   Nah man, I gotta go to the studio.   What? The studio? Yo son, straight up and down, fuck the studio alright, studio fudio, fuck that shit man.   Them niggas were laughing their asses off at me. I could hear them as I turned the corner Studio fudio. All I could think of while I was on the 7 train was Fuck them niggas, they gonna see. I was becoming a new man, a motivated one, I loved them dudes but I aint have time for all that, I was trying to do something with my life.   The studio was all the way out in Atlantic City. It was a long ride from Vaughns house in East Orange. After we got everything set up Vaughn said, Let me hear your rap.   I busted out some smooth shit over that beat, and Vaughn stops me and says, Look this is gonna be a really big record you gotta rap about something else home boy.   I said, Like what?   Like, like, hey whats the latest dance? Whats that them youngsters are doing now? What is it called the Smurf? You gotta rap about that.   Oh hell no, some dance record, you want me to make a dance record? Get the fuck out of here, Vaughn, man this is rap, we cant, or better yet I cant go out on stage in front of other rap niggas and do a record about a Saturday morning cartoon. That wont work, niggas will diss that record for real.   Spyder this isnt about what other rap niggas think, this is about selling records, this is the record business. And the business part means you are selling something. So what if 200 niggas dont like what youre doing. There will be 200, 000 more that will, and thats who we want to sell records to.   Yo, I cant believe this shit, man, dances come and go. Yesterday we were doing the Patty Duke remember that? This week its the Smurf, and next week its some other shit.   But Spyder, its when you capitalize on things that are hot that you can sell records. Dont you get it? This shit could be like the Twist, you see people doing the Twist to this day at memorabilia concerts and whatnot; this could do the same for your career. We have a hot record, we have to do all we can to make sure it sells to as many people as possible.   He made sense when he said that, so I started writing rhymes about the dance being a craze, I started it off like this:   So everybody get up its time to work, from coast to coast theyre doing the Smurf. Its a brand new dance going around its the thing to do when its time to get down. This is Spyder D rocking with the crew, making everybody dance is what were gonna do.   Vaughn and Butch liked those rhymes, but all of a sudden came the second, but the biggest blow up. Vaughn said, Now all we need is a hook for this shit, how about: head, shoulders, knees, and toes, Smurf that body across the floor, how about that?   I couldnt believe what I was hearing, that was some bullshit. I said, Vaughn, I cant have that on there.   Why not? Whats wrong with it?   Whats wrong with it? Its corny as fuck thats whats wrong with it. It has nothing to do with rap at all.   It doesnt have to have anything to do with rap, its the hook, people all over the country are going to hear it and sing along with it. This fits the song and everything.   That shit is corny as fuck. Head, shoulders, knees and toes. That is corny!   Spyder, Spyder, Spyder, listen to me, you need a hook that is going to catch peoples attention and that will fit the song. This is it.   What about the song I had before, Nuttin But a Party?   Spyder this record is now about the Smurf dance, save that idea for another record. Trust me, records about dances go a whole lot further than anything else. At least try it. Listen to it. Youll get used to it.   Nah man, I gotta be true to the raw shit we doin in the street.   Spyder, fuck the street, let me tell you something, the streets are temporary, yeah ok, thats your core audience, but you know what? Its when you can sell records to the people outside of your core audience that you can really make something happen. Thats what we have here Spyder, we have something that can go over with any audience. Trust me. Just do what I tell you to do. I havent told you wrong yet, have I?   Yo, I gotta perform this shit, not you, I gotta go out there with some shit that I can believe in. This is some corny ass shit. We have this def beat, and if we put this corny ass hook with it, mother fuckers, real mother fuckers, aint gonna feel this.   Spyder, how many copies did your last two records sell?   What the fuck I dont give a shit-   This has the potential to sell at least 500,000. Do you understand?   So, I let it go. But I talked them into putting my freestyle rap on the flip side.   So, weve got this record sounding like we want it, and Vaughn says, Yo Spyder, heres what I want to do with this. I want to make a production deal with you, meaning Ill shop this around and whatever we get well split the percentage points. How does that sound to you?   What do you mean split, I wrote the song.   No, you didnt totally write this alone, I arranged it and thats a part of songwriting.   How is it a part of songwriting? You came in after I programmed everything. Ok, you came up with the hook, but thats a small part of the record.   We argued all that night, but because I wanted to get this record out, I agreed, in principle to the production deal with him. This was going to have long lasting after effects on my career. I would have never had guessed it then, because I knew, that if it ever had the right chance this record, Smerphies Dance was gonna do major damage.   One of the first places Vaughn shopped to was Profile Records. We wouldve gotten the deal there but Vaughn wanted too much money for it. Back then the going rate for a 12- inch single was $1500. Vaughn asked for $7500, and he refused to negotiate with them, so we didnt get the deal. He took it around to some other labels too, but again, Vaughn wanted too much money for the record.   Finally we ended up going with a label called Telestar Cassettes. I wasnt very excited about the label at all. In fact, I was against going there because, for one thing, I had never heard of Telestar Records. The guy that owned the label was a big fat black guy named Roy Norman. He was a nice guy and all, but I thought he was some sort of Uncle Tom. Hed always say things like, Im trying to be the first black man with his own distribution. Vaughn used to piss Roy off by calling him things like fat boy, no wonder we had a hard time getting paid by that label.   It took at least three months for Roy Norman to get Smerphies Dance into the stores. He got this kid I knew named Steve Rifkind to promote the record. I knew Steve through his father and uncle: Roy and Jules Rifkind of Spring Records. By the time Smerphies came out, there was a new dance out called The Webo.   One night I was sitting in my grandmothers basement listening to Mr. Magics Rap Attack on WBLS. It was getting close to midnight; it was the third weekend in a row that I had sat up listening to the radio waiting for my song to be played. It was 11:55 and the show went off at midnight. I knew there was no chance that my record was going to be played. I thought I was going to lose my mind. I knew that my other records were potential hits but they went nowhere. I had a stronger feeling about Smerphies Dance, I knew deep down inside that this record was it. But it was looking like I was wrong.   That was until I heard the handclaps.   After that night Smerphies Dance was a hit. I was on my way.   (Smerphie's Dance went on to go gold, twice, the second time as part of a Thump Records compilation CD that featured George Clinton,The Gap Band, Teena Marie,Whodini and other rap/funk stars. Spyder was unable to record as an artist for two years after a dispute over his recording rights between Telestar Cassettes, the label that Smerphie's was released and Vaughan Mason, who later continued to produce gold and platinum selling records on other artists and himself).