You probably should pick up the print issue since the pictures are OFF THE HOOK (petergraham.com).
Here's a teaser and a photo, but hit up the link for the full story.
KEAK DA SNEAK
The Theory of Relativity
Words: Krishtine de Leon
Photo: Peter Graham
*Bay Area hip hop may have missed it's date with national prominence the first time around, but that didn't stop one MC from growling his way to the top of the vibrant local scene. With the rest of the country finally getting high off the fumes from the hyphy hype, Keak Da Sneak is ready to help the whole damn Yay get heard. That's his word!
There seems to be an invisible electromagnetic force field around Oakland-bred rapper Keak Da Sneak that has yet to be identified by NASA. Despite the rules of quantum physics, nature’s laws are contradictory within these boundaries. In plain surveillance, Keak is spotless, wearing all white from head to toe, New Era to Nike. Leaping off the front of his roomy coke-white Tee is a larger-than-life airbrushed caricature of his infamous scowl. His indistinguishable gruff vocals scat across slumping bass lines and staccato high-hats, offbeat but on purpose. What the fuck he is saying, nobody is absolutely certain, although everyone makes embarrassingly futile attempts to sing along. But it’s his charismatic joviality that almost makes you forget that the man can’t keep an appointment to save his career. Call it “Keak Da Sneak’s Hood Theory of Relativity”—if you can’t relate, then you might as well skate. But at the end of the day, he didn’t become the king of super -duper-hyphy by forfeiting to normal convention.
Around the corner from his East Oakland home, there is a burnt-out whip begging for a hyphy cameo. The young dancers and dreadlock-shakers from E-40’s “Tell Me When To Go” video practice their slick-yet-chaotic moves on all the vehicle’s orifices, patiently waiting for Keak to show up to his own photo shoot. Neighbors offer catfish and yam dinners to the crew of photographers loitering in their cramped front yards with visions of stunnas, scrapers and smoke machines. Although there is a minute inkling of hope that he will show up to bless the ’hood with his hyphyness, Keak isn’t coming. He’s 60 miles north, in Sacramento, firing his manager. The only person that can get to the elusive Keak is his “bruh bruh,” Dame Fame. “Keak don’t move for nobody,” Dame confides, interrupting his laundry day to accommodate this last-minute request. But after nearly 15 years of investing in Keak’s career, Dame Fame won’t let a failed photo shoot effect the much-needed publicity of his closest road dog.
“You know, I came up with the hook for ‘Tell Me When To Go’,” Dame says on the slow crawl up highway 80 to Sactown. Between exhales of dank smoke, Dame explains how Keak and E-40 bumped into each other in Atlanta and got down. “We were fucked up since 3PM that day and drank all the liquor at Patchwork Studios. There wasn’t one drop left!,” he laughs. At around 4AM the following morning, Dame was the only one to hear Lil Jon put the finishing touches on the beat, and conjured up a melodic epiphany. He walked to the other room where Keak was thoroughly knocked-out in a fetal position. Nudging him, Dame insisted that he get up that very moment to lace the track. Keak, being the man that he is, wasn’t budging after such a rude awakening. Following numerous attempts, Dame managed to the stir the sleepy artist, dragging him into the studio across the way. There, he laid down the cameo in 15 minutes, after which Lil Jon slapped his hands together and said, “We’ve got a hit!” Though unspoken, it was understood that this would soon be the song to bring the Bay Area back to its righteous days of glory. But if it wasn’t for Dame, Keak might have slept right through it...
(click on the link to finish reading)
http://www.massappealmag.com/article.php?id=258
Here's a teaser and a photo, but hit up the link for the full story.
KEAK DA SNEAK
The Theory of Relativity
Words: Krishtine de Leon
Photo: Peter Graham
*Bay Area hip hop may have missed it's date with national prominence the first time around, but that didn't stop one MC from growling his way to the top of the vibrant local scene. With the rest of the country finally getting high off the fumes from the hyphy hype, Keak Da Sneak is ready to help the whole damn Yay get heard. That's his word!
There seems to be an invisible electromagnetic force field around Oakland-bred rapper Keak Da Sneak that has yet to be identified by NASA. Despite the rules of quantum physics, nature’s laws are contradictory within these boundaries. In plain surveillance, Keak is spotless, wearing all white from head to toe, New Era to Nike. Leaping off the front of his roomy coke-white Tee is a larger-than-life airbrushed caricature of his infamous scowl. His indistinguishable gruff vocals scat across slumping bass lines and staccato high-hats, offbeat but on purpose. What the fuck he is saying, nobody is absolutely certain, although everyone makes embarrassingly futile attempts to sing along. But it’s his charismatic joviality that almost makes you forget that the man can’t keep an appointment to save his career. Call it “Keak Da Sneak’s Hood Theory of Relativity”—if you can’t relate, then you might as well skate. But at the end of the day, he didn’t become the king of super -duper-hyphy by forfeiting to normal convention.
Around the corner from his East Oakland home, there is a burnt-out whip begging for a hyphy cameo. The young dancers and dreadlock-shakers from E-40’s “Tell Me When To Go” video practice their slick-yet-chaotic moves on all the vehicle’s orifices, patiently waiting for Keak to show up to his own photo shoot. Neighbors offer catfish and yam dinners to the crew of photographers loitering in their cramped front yards with visions of stunnas, scrapers and smoke machines. Although there is a minute inkling of hope that he will show up to bless the ’hood with his hyphyness, Keak isn’t coming. He’s 60 miles north, in Sacramento, firing his manager. The only person that can get to the elusive Keak is his “bruh bruh,” Dame Fame. “Keak don’t move for nobody,” Dame confides, interrupting his laundry day to accommodate this last-minute request. But after nearly 15 years of investing in Keak’s career, Dame Fame won’t let a failed photo shoot effect the much-needed publicity of his closest road dog.
“You know, I came up with the hook for ‘Tell Me When To Go’,” Dame says on the slow crawl up highway 80 to Sactown. Between exhales of dank smoke, Dame explains how Keak and E-40 bumped into each other in Atlanta and got down. “We were fucked up since 3PM that day and drank all the liquor at Patchwork Studios. There wasn’t one drop left!,” he laughs. At around 4AM the following morning, Dame was the only one to hear Lil Jon put the finishing touches on the beat, and conjured up a melodic epiphany. He walked to the other room where Keak was thoroughly knocked-out in a fetal position. Nudging him, Dame insisted that he get up that very moment to lace the track. Keak, being the man that he is, wasn’t budging after such a rude awakening. Following numerous attempts, Dame managed to the stir the sleepy artist, dragging him into the studio across the way. There, he laid down the cameo in 15 minutes, after which Lil Jon slapped his hands together and said, “We’ve got a hit!” Though unspoken, it was understood that this would soon be the song to bring the Bay Area back to its righteous days of glory. But if it wasn’t for Dame, Keak might have slept right through it...
(click on the link to finish reading)
http://www.massappealmag.com/article.php?id=258
