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M Y S T O R Y
TABOOWITHSTEVE DENNIS
A TOUCHST ONE BOOK
PUBLISHED BY SIMON & SCHUSTER
NEW YORK LONDON TORONTO SYDNEY NEW DELHI
FALLIN
UP
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Touchstone
A Division of Simon & Schuster, Inc.
1230 Avenue of the Americas
New York, NY 10020
Copyright 2011 by Tab Magnetic, Inc.
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions
thereof in any form whatsoever. For information address Touchstone Subsidiary
Rights Department, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020.
All photos not otherwise credited are from the authors personal collection.
First Touchstone paperback edition October 2011
TOUCHSTONE and colophon are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc.
For information about special discounts for bulk purchases, please contact Simon & Schuster
Special Sales at 1-866-506-1949 or [email protected].
The Simon & Schuster Speakers Bureau can bring authors to your live event.
For more information or to book an event contact the Simon & Schuster Speakers
Bureau at 1-866-248-3049 or visit our website at www.simonspeakers.com.
Designed by Ruth Lee-Mui
Manufactured in the United States of America
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
ISBN 978-1-4391-9206-1
ISBN 978-1-4391-9208-5 (pbk)
ISBN 978-1-4391-9209-2 (ebook)
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For Nannyor your love, in your memory.
8/3/2019 Fallin Up by Tabooread about the Black Eyed Peas first performance!
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I one advances confdently in the direction o ones
dreams, and endeavors to live the lie which one has
imagined, one will meet with a success unexpected
in common hours.
Henry David Thoreau
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Contents
Authors Note
PrefAce
chAPter oNe: LeAviNg Dog towN 1
chAPter two: DreAmiNg Big 14
chAPter three: BreAkiN out 24
chAPter four: strictLy tABoo 33
chAPter five: souL chiLDreN 42
chAPter six: misfits & mishAPs 55
chAPter seveN: fANtAsyLAND 71
chAPter eight: PizzA & PePsi 80
chAPter NiNe: heLLos, gooD-Byes 89
chAPter teN: gettiNg sigNeD 102
chAPter eLeveN: exPosure 113
chAPter tweLve: the LoNg roAD 122
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Contents
chAPter thirteeN: gettiNg wArPeD 142
chAPter fourteeN: chANge it uP 155
chAPter fifteeN: PeAs & Love 175
chAPter sixteeN: strAtosPheres 193
chAPter seveNteeN: hAzy DAys 211
chAPter eighteeN: moNkey BusiNess 228
chAPter NiNeteeN: ANgeLs & DemoNs 245
chAPter tweNty: the ePiPhANy 265
chAPter tweNty-oNe: the hAPPy ever After 283
chAPter tweNty-two: A DreAm withiN A DreAm 294
chAPter tweNty-three: the e.N.D. 309
AckNowLeDgmeNts 323
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Pizza & PePsi
within a matter o days, I was standing in a dark, back corridor, counting
down to the debut gig o the Black Eyed Peas on a stage cloaked with
a og o weed smoke inside Princes Glam Slam. The act that I could breathe in
such a sweet aromaand perorm on the tur o the artist who always ound his way
onto my mix tapes was a bonus.
We were one o a ew groups who perormed as part o a Ruthless Rec-
ords showcase. Will and Apl had maintained ties with the label even though they
had been let go, and these showcase gigsregular events on the music scene
allowed us to build our name. We rocked up dressed and ready, arriving together
in Wills upgraded cara red VW Goland wed practiced as we drove into
downtown. I cant remember the songs because we didnt keep them, but I re-
member the anticipation o stepping out in ront o a crowd we knew would be 150-
strong.
I wasnt scurred. Will told me to just do your thing and I treated it
like a battle. For him and Apl, it was just another perormance under a dierent
name, because, throughout their time with Ruthless, they had kept perorming
on the club scene, so it was a case o maintaining that momentum and me mov-
ing into the slipstream as part o the transition rom Atban Klann to Black Eyed
Peas.Privately, I knew it represented a massive leap orward or me and there
was no room or ucking up this time. Im sure the Glam Slam perormance was to
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test how much we gelled as a trio, because, as much as we were riends, we had
never perormed together. In many ways, that night was all about reinvention.
The moment I stepped into that Prince-owned territory, I was ready or
the big time. Will and Apls attitude was so relaxed that it made me eel there was
nothing to prove.
Not that patience was the rst word that sprang to mind when we
checked out the audience: a mean-mugging bunch o thug-like cats with Jheri-
curls, raider hats, and expressionless aces. It was more your gangsta-rap crowd,
whereas we were more lyrical-miracle-braggadocious, rapping about skills and
positivity.
Think about what peoples rst impression must have been: two black
cats with thick, long Bob Marley dreds, wearing beatnik-style, old-man vintage
clothing, accompanied by one theatrical, scary-looking Latino dressed all ninja-style.
There was none o the rap heads staples: no Tommy Hilger, Versace, or
FUBU. Will always said that the clothes you wear dont make you hip-hop. That
was a statement he would ultimately build into our rst album, Behind The Front,
making the point in the song Fallin Up: I see you try to diss our unction by stat-
ing we cant rap/Is it because we dont wear Tommy Hilfger and baseball caps . . .
We wanted to smash stereotypesthe dancing, the boundaries, and
the clichs. We told ourselves that we were bringing the James Brown attitude to
hip-hopsinging, dancing and doing it all.
We were about crazy dancing and fuid movement at a time when hip-hop
was ull o dudes rontingacting hard while holding the mics and grabbing their
crotch, bouncing but not dancing. It was like people were araid to dance, but we
wanted to be about high-octane energy and partying, incorporating anything rom
b-boying to ree-styling and then, rom me, kung-u inspired moves. Its time to
ditch the hip-hop ego and run with the soul, Will had said.
As we launched on stage at Glam Slam, the looks on these gangstas
aces said the same thing: Who are these little mothauckas?
We always thrived on a challenge.
We relied on a DAT tape or the beats as Will and Apl threw down the
lyrics and I ollowed their lead, ad-libbing on the back o them. Club settings like
Glam Slam were always intimate, highly charged aairs. Anything was liable to
happenas the rst gig proved.
The moment Will started rapping, someone hurled an ice cube and it hit
him dead in the eye. You could see the smirks break out on the audiences aces,
but it didnt make Will pause. It energized him and he ran with it, ree-styling withhis anger about that very incident: Yo, uck this shit . . . this MC just got hit . . . in
the eye . . . but yall cant stop my shine . . .
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Or something like that.
Anyone who saw last years E.N.D. tour witnessed Will fy with that same
spontaneity when he ree-styled using the BlackBerry Messenger messages that
audience members pinged in; thinking in the split-second and turning it into a rap.
Thats what hes been doing since day onehe could change it up rom any situa-
tion. I the lights went out, hed rap about it. I a ght broke out in the crowd, hed
make a song about it. I the mic went out, wed break into ree-style dance. Fall
down, wed make a joke about it. Whatever we aced, we took in stride.
At Glam Slam, Will must have held his eye or hal that show, but the
crowd gave it up ater seeing us ree-style. We turned that audience around. Men
standing around with all the rhythm o mean-looking statues were suddenly bob-
bing their heads and giving us props. It was like we had wandered into a lions
den o thugs and tamed them with nothing but perormance, and that was someempowering shit.
I elt like a wall o energy that night, standing alongside Will and Apl.
This is itthis is amily, I thought.
It wasnt the immature pretensions o United Soul Children or the ad that
was Rising Suns. It wasnt the ill-tting shoe o Pablo. It wasnt being orced down
a road I didnt want to go down, like the Air Force or Rosemead Adult College.
Everything we had known as riends was harnessed as one tight unit where there
was instant chemistry. Everything gelled, eortlessly, and I knew our journey had
begun.
I you ask me, 1995 was the year that represented the sign o things to
come. Microsot launched Windows 95, the DVD ormat was announced, and
eBay was ounded. Musically, the general public was embracing hits such as
Michael Jacksons You Are Not Alone, Alanis Morissettes Hand In My Pocket
and Oasiss Wonderwall. And Sade brought out a song called The Sweetest
Taboo.
When we three Peas came together, we instantly had our eyes on the
main prize: visualizing taking hip-hop to a new level and touring the world. Our
individual dreams were magnied as one, and we collectively imagined our uture.
We drove around in Wills VW Gol, going to a club or a rehearsal, and envisioned
that one day the car would be a tour bus.
Can you imagine touring around America? wed say.
Forget that shit, can you imagine touring Europe?
Forget that shit, can you imagine touring the world?
We always had the world in mind, not just America. So we visualized it. Itheres a truth to the universe listening and then maniesting visions, it must have
tapped into our brainstorming conversations inside Wills car.
Our musical direction was shaped by a bunch o infuences: rom A Tribe
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Called Quest to De La Soul, rom bossa nova to calypso, rom Barry White to Ste-
vie Wonder. We slammed it all into the same mixing bowl and came up with our
own sound: hip-hop at its core but laced with Latin, jazz, and soul. We didnt want
to be just another hip-hop trio. We wanted to change it up but keep it resh, inno-
vating and progressive.
We also knew we wanted to build in a our-piece band, because live in-
strumentation was just as important as rhyming. Damn, i all were going to do is
go o the DAT, we might as well put the lyrics on that bitch, too! said Will.
We agreed what we were driving at: we wanted to be a live hip-hop act,
not just a rap group. We wanted to be about showmanship and visual imagery
create eel-good music, and a band was an essential ingredient o that aim. With-
out a band, we would have been a car without wheels.
Willalways the businessman and ambassador o the groupwent outthere and put together the band: Terry Graves as drummer, Mike Fratantuno on
bass, and Carlos Galvan on keyboard. Several guitar players would come and go
but rst up was a man we called JC.
Wills philosophy was clear rom the beginning: by introducing the ele-
ment o a live band, we would be one step ahead o what the majority o the indus-
try was doing or thinking.
Critics later compared us to the Roots, and Arrested Development, but as
one reviewer once put it, the Peas always had a sunnier disposition. Thats be-
cause our lyrics ocused on the positive. Our message was not only about vague
peace and love. We had a theme we believed in: one nation, one race called hu-
manity, and one diversity known as unity. We werent about the West Coast versus
East Coast hip-hop eud that was happening at the time.
Call us hip-hop. Or hip-pop.
Just so long as we were rocking our shit.
We rehearsed with the band about three times a month, experimenting
with songs and coming up with set lists, mixing in some cool little ree-styles. We
usually practiced in the double garage at Apls new place in Pasadena. Beore
moving there, he jumped rom place to place. He must have lived in six dierent
places between 1993 and 1996.
Apl and I used nothing more than a tape recorder to make the songs we
dreamed up. Free-style mumbles turned into lyrics that turned into songs that
turned into cassette tapes with song titles scrawled out in pen.
There was nothing intense about our rehearsal process. All I can remem-
ber is lots o un, laughter, and weed. It must have been hard at rst or the band
to t in, because we, as a trio, had a history and had already gelled, both proes-sionally and personally. But thats the reality o collaborationsyou throw shit
together and hope or synergy. The two main pillars o the band were drummer
Terrya hal-American, hal-Japanese black guy with a great crop o curly hair
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and bass player Mikea six-oot-tall, resh-ass white boy rom Milwaukee who
wore glasses.
Terry worked at Virgin record label as an A&R man, but he wasnt at the
top o the ood chain so he couldnt do much or us as a band, connection-wise,
but he brought a sense o organization to the group, always on top o rehearsal
times and chasing the set lists. He had these big bulging eyes, like a bullrog, that
always told you when he was concentrating, and he was a super-nice guy and a
capable pair o hands.
Milwaukee Mike looked nothing like your cool musician dude, at least not
on rst impression, but when he got on the bass, he killed it. He was a zany, wild
Jim Carrey type who was always goong around by making unny aces or silly-ass
moves, and he was the perect counter-balance to Terrys more serious vibe.
Despite other comings and goings within the band, these two would stickaround until the year 2000, contributing their strong work ethic and their own mu-
sical stamp. None o us were the overzealous artists hell-bent on making music
thatreally mattered. We were more go-with-the-fow types hooked on creating the
party. At that time, o the three o us, Will and Apl were the most ocused, and I
was the unctioning reeer head. But I could rehearse on the cloud nine o weed
smoke and still get the job done.
Ater a ew rehearsals in Apls garage, we booked our rst gig as an en-
semble at an outdoor event at L.A.s Peace & Justice Center, a venue known or
celebrating up-and-coming groups in the city.
But no sooner were we into our set than we instantly knew that what-
ever had sounded resh inside the garage didnt translate onstage. It was messy
and disjointed and everyone knew it. We were like amateurs on Showtime at the
Apollo.
The rst change we made was to get rid o the guitarist, JC. Hed brought
along some woman, saying she was a cool singer so we tried her out on one song
and she was horrible. The act that we even allowed her to walk on stage is indica-
tion enough o how everything was too loose.
There was a lot o ne-tuning required, and we needed to work on our on-
stage interaction, and agree who was going to talk rst because, as MCs, our early
eagerness had led to moments when we talked all at once, and it was a mess.
That said, it was the rst time we had perormed with our live band. We
knew we liked the sound and knew we wanted to stick with the ormat, but prac-
tice would make perect.
We also wanted to achieve rsts, like Michael Jackson.
That man was a trailblazer: the frst dude to have a video on MTV thatimpacted pop culture; the frst dude who killed it with his dancing; the frst one to
connect his music with commercial brands; the frst one to bring movie-production
values to a video and tell a story, as with Thriller.
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Like Prince, his music always ound its way onto my mix tapes, and
rom hip-hop to popthere are countless artists who today stand as by-products
o Michael Jackson in terms o the bar he set in what he achieved, what he sold
and the size o the entertainment monster he created. In respect to breaking molds
and staying ahead o the game musically, he was a unique inspiration.
Like him, we as a group wanted our music to be multicultural and mirror
our own lie experiences: Will as the black dude, accepted within a Latino commu-
nity; me, the Mexican accepted in a black community; Apl, the Filipino embraced
by America. Crossing divides. Building bridges. Finding acceptance amid other
races. That is what the Black Eyed Peas were about, as was mirrored in the lyrics
to one o our rst songs, Joints & Jams:
Were about mass appeal, no segregation/Got black to Asian andCaucasian . . .
The concept was all built on one joint sucking in one people.
As one early reviewer would say about our music, It didnt ask anyone to
choose between class, race or national identities, it just embraced the concept o
both or and, encouraging fexible attitudes between all people.
Im not sure even Will could have put it better.
My learning curve was steep in those rst two years.
I hadnt started rapping until 1993, whereas Will and Apl had been run-
ning and rapping together since 1989, and Will had been an MC since 84. They
were the experts, and I was still learning to crawl, at a time when we were creating
songs or demo tapes.
I was still trying to nd my voice and learn rom two riends who were
skilled architectsand partnerswhen it came to structuring song, ormat, beats
and rhythm. Will and Apl seemed to be able to read each others minds at times,
and I was looking to nd my place within that creative synergy. They had been
writing together since age ourteen. I was eager to get in on that process.
Rule number one, as ar as Will was concerned, was Write rom personal
experience.
Rule number two was Rhythm comes rst, words later.
I absorbed it all rom the edges as Will created the beat rom some ar-
fung inspiration in his mind. Hed then play the beat, nd the rhythm within that
beat, and then nd the lyrics. Wed sit around or hours on end, ree-styling until
we hit on something special, bouncing ideas around, creating just the right melodyand cadence. For me, it was a master class under Wills musical and lyrical tutor-
ship. Time ater time, he showed me how we could make something out o noth-
ing; how rhythm-became-mumbles-became-words became-lyrics-became-song.
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Me and Apl would scribble thoughts on pads, envelopes, or backs o
receipts, but Will never needed to write anything down. He always had it in his
head, and this unconscious download o thoughts, lyrics, and ideas would just
stream out o him.
The pen is too slow to capture his thoughts.
Id only ever toyed with poetry and the odd lyric as a kid, trying to get
deep with all that talk o my moons and horizons and suns that werent rising. I ell
into a trap that was common in the underground sceneull o artists trying to be
over-elaborate and too deep, using words they had no idea about but sounded
cool, spitting out grand words like OSMOSIS! CHROMOSOMES! PROTONS!
ELECTRONS FIRE THE NEURONS! and all that kind o bullshit mumbo jumbo in
the hope o sounding proound or clever. There was a train o thought among many
in hip-hop that the more intricate it was, the better it sounded, even i it meantnothing.
Wills philosophy was hooked on simplicitystrip away all the big words,
and work rom personal experiences to create simple, catchy messages. Build on
themes o style, skill, good times and braggadociousness.
Say what we mean to say.
Motivation wasnt always easy, especially when youre playing to crowds
as small as ty people. One time, at a club called Florentine Gardens in Holly-
wood, only twenty-ve tickets were sold. But nothing topped the experience at
some Black Expo event at L.A.s Convention Center.
We knew it was going to be a vast expo, and that wed have a
humongous-ass stage to work with. But it was one o those times when grand
expectations didnt meet with reality.
The setup was like a businessmans music estival with dierent stages,
booths and events all taking place under one roo. The expo itsel was packed, but
the interest in our specic stage was empty. We walked out to see everyone chill-
ing in the distance, and about seven stragglers watching us: three security guards
and two moms with children. We looked lost on the massive stage, and the audi-
ence looked lost in the uninterested emptiness that surrounded them.
Will, Apl, and me looked at each other and thought: Damn, this is embar-
rassing! But we convinced ourselves that within that pocket o people remained
the potential or word-o-mouth.
We got out there and perormed our asses o, ignoring the bored and
bemused aces that the kids threw back at us. Thats what it was about back then:
grinding out perormances and maximizing any and all opportunities, big or small.
Those early months were all hit-and-miss because a ew weeks laterwe perormed at a bar called St. Georges in Venice Beach. It was not ar rom the
beach boardwalk, and was normally a venue that attracted poetry readings or live
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acoustic perormances by emale singer-songwriters. But this one night, we got
booked through one o Wills connections.
It was one o those small, intimate venues, but the upside was that it was
a largely emale crowd, and the actress and model Gabrielle Unionwho we then
knew as a twenty-three-year-old called Nikkibrought a whole contingent o e-
male ollowers who were immediately converted that night into Pea-bodies.
We were an underground hip-hop group rom L.A. perorming in the bo-
hemian, surer-dude spot o Venice Beach and we won over the emale crowd,
enticed by the elements o a live band and live ree-style dance. As one woman
told us that night: You guys are giving hip-hop sex appeal!
Thats the time and place where we say the Black Eyed Peas attracted
its rst emale ans. And as any man knowsonce you get the womans vote, the
only way is up.
In those embryonic months, we had to be grateul or every opportunity,
and, sometimes, that gratitude had to extend to accepting an appearance ee
that was nothing more than ood and drink. We still joke today that we literally per-
ormed or pizza and Pepsi.
When youre at the starting line and people dont know or carewho
the uck you are, its up to you to prove your worth, not up to them to pay you.
Yon Styles, an Arican-American rom New York City, was our manager at
the time. His management company was called Black Coee Management, and
his team was comprised o Eddie Bowles and another dude named Johnny John-
son, who was some nancial whiz.
Will had met Yon outside a club called the Roxbury ater beating one o
his MCs in a battle. When Will told him that he was orming the Black Eyed Peas,
Yon immediately oered to manage us, so he sealed the deal. He had enthusiasm
and believed in us 100%, but he was always going to be the kind o manager who
gave us a leg up, as opposed to the manager who would take us into a dream
orbit.
Ater each perormance, Yon and Polo Molinawho served more as our
unocial promoter back thenworked through the audience, asking i they were
interested in seeing us again. Nineteen ninety-ve and early 1996 were all about
harnessing grassroots support rom around Los Angeles. Our mantra was: Pizza
and Pepsi this time, but maybe $250/$500 next time.
I we could prove to a venue that we had a an base with demandand a
strong mailing listwe could start charging on the door, and that is what ultimately
happened. It was all about mailing lists, hitting the phones, and sticking up fyers.As underdogs, we saw the size o the mountain in ront o us, and only
thought about the view rom the summit, not the struggle o the climb. Along the
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way, we connected as riends beore each gig, and at the end o each gigalways
reminding ourselves not to take lie too seriously. Thats one thing I can say about
lie in the Black Eyed Peas: our riendship has always been a constant, bigger than
anything we could achieve on stage.
We believed in each other. We willed each other on. And I drew inspiration
rom the two brothers climbing the mountain with me.
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