Scratch the Record Slowly: Prominent DJ Murdered in Cold Blood

As I started my walk home from school last Wednesday my mind popped back to one of the most electri- fying concert experiences of my life, seeing Run DMC live on stage back in ‘99,

We waited in the winter cold to be bussed from downtown Toronto to a large airport hanger, somewhere on the outskirts. DJ Hurricane, Beastie Boy predecessor of Mix Master Mike, was spinning an.incredible set and everyone but security and me seemed to be on Ecstasy. After watching dazed teens whirl glow sticks around for a while, I decided to make my way into the area where Run DMC would be playing early. The room was already packed full with a multicultural mix decked out in relatively similar urban wear, and much flying of the Adidas flag. After almost two hours I had managed to worm my way to front

By Will PATE

stage and lose my friends in the process.

When the band hit the stage the crowd came alive as one large con- gregation of the church of Run DMC, presided over by his holiness Jam Master Jay. They were a study of hip- hop at its best: rockin’ beats, tasteful cuts and quality rhyming. There was no glorification of violence, sexual symbolization of women or overblown obsession with greed. These were three middle-class Hollis boys that knew how to lay down solid songs that fit the bill. There was no denying the tal- ent that made them the most influential rap group of the 80's.

As I continued my walk home last Wednesday reminiscent of that concert, I started singing some of the lyrics of Run DMC's best tribute to Jay, "Peter Piper." Jay's like King Midas as I was told/Everything that he touched turned to gold/He’s the great- est of the great, get it straight he’s great/Claim fame cause his name is known in every state/His name is Jay to see him play will make you say/Goddamn that DJ made my day! Little did I know what news would be waiting for me when I arrived home: that 37 year old James Mizell, AKA Jam Master Jay, had been shot and killed while sitting on a couch in a stu- dio. A friend at Dalhousie had even e- mailed me, knowing instinctively how much this turn of events would mean

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~ to me, and with good reason.

The next day was spent rumi- nating on the injustice of Jay's murder. It seemed too cruel that a man who made the hallmark of his message pos- itive energy through music would suf- fer the same fate as hard-core gangster rappers Tupac Shakur and Biggie Smalls. Jay helped countless local artists, signing them to JMJ Records, and even let some use Run DMC's stu- dio for free. So great was my melan- choly I almost lost the desire to join the wild Halloween Pub at The Wave, until a good friend wisely suggested I

attend and party to honour Jay's legacy of good clean fun. While I may not have been good or clean, fun was had nonetheless.

In the days after the murder some strange facts have come to light. Most troubling was that the murderer was buzzed into the studio, leading investigators to believe that he knew his assailant or was set up. Some anonymous sources have speculated that the killing was actually a hit gone wrong, intended on rapper 50 Cent. Other sources have indicated that Jay and his studio owed between $280,000 and $400,000 in taxes, interest and penalties. Also pertinent may be the revelation that a man from the South named "Scoon" was owed money by Jay and made a threatening call to one of his associates in previous weeks. This leads to the conclusion that either Jay was collateral damage in another musician's street war or that financial troubles led to his murder. Regardless of the reason, his death is a great blow to the music world and he will be sore- ly missed. All we have now is the musical gift he gave us, echoing through the boomboxes of hip-hop fans everywhere. Rest in Peace, Jam Master Jay- You made my day.

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