Newspaper Page Text
The Maroon
IP’AGE J
May 1997/
And The Vibe Moves On: A Look Back
This is not just another taste of fashion, photography, and social
criticism exploding on paper. We go back much deeper than
the four years I've explained in flashback.
This is a solid brick in our artistic sub-culture construction.
... see it pro'ly started, at least for me,
in the Spring of '94. My freshman year
was full of 2620, and the Warehouse, and
dorm parties, la di da, y'know, every
thing that 89% of us were doing. I prob
ably stood next to you on the wall, or
sista, maybe I got your number. The fly
mix of keep it real kids and keep it rich
kids was amusing. . .for a while. But I
figured brothers and sisters could speak
more than bump an' grind to each other
and still have a good time. In the Spring
of '94,1 got muddy in my first Red Clay,
initially as a reader of the magazine, and
then as an attendant of their open mic,
blue-bulb lit, experiences of the organic.
To call them parties is like callin' Rakim
a rapper. This was the initiation of the
next level, our induction into the power
of the word.
Around the same time, five brothers
and two sisters got into a poetic Cipher
and blessed us with their lyrical gifts,
inviting us to do the same. For fun, for
expression and for assembly credit, we
came to their open microphone read
ings. Public poetry was introduced to
the freshman class and mysteriously,
our journals opened wider and more
often. The word was carrying.
Across the street at CAU, the social
activities crew opened up the Rec Room
on Thursday nights, for all MC's, true
and false. But the vibe produced more
fights than flows (though some kids
were dope) and the hardcore head
nodders were sent back to hallway cor
ners to test each other's skillz. The re
sult of it all was a void. . .but the word
persisted.
Mind you this was just my experience;
four years and thousands of young folks
have produced infinite recreational re
alities: The Warehouse, The Peacock,
Axis, Yin Yang, Emory, Sol, Ethiopian
Vibrations, The Attic, Mirage, Oxygen,
The Culture Center, Second Saturdays,
Fashion Fridays, the wall everyday,
Funk Jazz, G Tech, Level 2, Atlanta Live,
Peachtree on Saturday nights, the tub,
Kaya, industry sets, Marta, the Lex, the
hooptie, Elements, BlaqHole Sound,
Chocolate Soup, Club E.S.S.O., Velvet,
Prestige, SoHo, Ife's Ffouse, Peeples
Street, The Pyramid, the Platinum
House, and that one party that EVERY
ONE was at that night at Dejoule.
This whirlwind picked up our house
and set us down in 1996 where "dip
baby dip" was still the prime source of
cultural exchange among the sexes.
Then our part of the story began. In the
Spring of '96, I took the helm of a peri
odical which was produced almost ex
clusively by black men. I got down with
a talented crew, the right resources, and
a guaranteed budget, which enabled us
to make two pivotal things happen.
First, we took the Underground page
for artistic expression off the back page
of The Maroon Tiger and into Kilgore
Student Center. 2 DJ's, 2 hosts, a live
band, mad acts, and 300 attendees later,
Underground Live had become a real
ity. Next, we produced the journal which
you now hold, The Maroon. Fed a
steady diet of mainstream media, we
knew there was still a significant unrep
resented sector of our community. So
journalistically, we represented. Well,
hopefully.
The point to my retrospective ram
bling, as I introduce the latest Maroon,
is that this journal didn't just appear out
by ndugu bamuthi (marc joseph, jr.)
editor-in-chief
photo by vin
of nowhere. This is not just another taste
of fashion, photography, and social criti
cism exploding on paper. We go back
much deeper than the four years I've
explained in flashback. This is a solid
brick in our artistic sub-culture construc
tion. Think about it, we've created a fo
rum for alternative and non-conven-
tional media, and we've made
Morehouse foot the bill. All this to keep
the vibe movin'; all to keep the cipher
flowin'. The word has always been a
part of our existence. Now YOU pass it
on.
easy. . .