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TEFLON & HIS MOM’S FAMILY

J.J. Colagrande — Fri, 24 Apr 2009 04:37:59 +0000

Her name was Viviana Glass, my moms. She was born in Chicago, you know, raised in Oak Park, south of the city. My grandmother, Rosa Maria Contros, is Chilean. To this day she designs costumes for the lively Chicago theatre community. Poor Gammy, she outlived her daughter, must be the worst joke God ever bestowed on a soul. My granddad, my Grady, Ernie Glass, he was half-French-American and half-Cherokee Indian. Grady was a thespian at heart too, a lover of the Marx brothers, and later, Martin and Lewis. He worked for the postal service in Chicago. Guess he needed a little comedy after years of dropping off solicitations, bills, Dear John letters, and those we-regret-to-inform-you official United States Vietnam telegrams. Grady had a tattoo of Hermes on his arm. I remember he always said: now junior, don’t-kill-the-messenger. It was his favorite expression, especially when he’d have to tell me the Bulls lost. I always loved the Bulls, especially and secretly when Byron Jones played for the Pistons. Anyway, Grady hit the lotto in 74’, one of the first Illinois State drawings. He started this theatre company in Chicago—St. Marx Place—it specialized in musical comedies. Year after year losses outweighed profits, but my Grady loved the business and felt okay with taking a financial hit. He died a few years before my moms took her life, having spent most of his ducats on the fledgling theatre. To honor him, Gammy established the Ernest Glass Award for Playwrights, a grant given annually to Northwestern theatre majors. Do you see where my moms got the acting bug? My family hails from Chicago. My mom’s spirit rests in Chicago, so does my Grady’s. That’s why, after peeping out the hospital, I’m heading out to Oak Park to see my Gammy. She’s my Family. It’s all about Family. That Keith kid’s cool but he’s not my Family. And if I had to choose between my Gammy and that Melody Rain girl, who disappeared anyway, I’m going to choose Gammy. Gammy always took care of me, word up. And I think my boy Thelonious, I think today he’d want me to be around some Family. He always said it’s all about Family.

click here to learn about Teflon’s mother and father

KC EXPLAINS HOW SHE MET DICKIE (BROOKLYNESE VERSION)

J.J. Colagrande — Wed, 22 Apr 2009 16:27:35 +0000

Of all the rowmantic places for young loveaz to meet in New Yawk: the fifth flaw of the Whitknee like as soon as the ellavada opens, or buy-da win chimes of Sockrateez Paawk in Long Eyeland City, or the LOVE peece in the PRATT statchu garden—our fateful encounta took place at Pathmaawk; eyeill tree, in front of the canned goods, buy-da green beans, to be precise. Two random caawts hurled against each odda in the third eyeill of the supamaawket; the third eyeill, evokin the trinity, it couldn’t be happenstance; it hadda be fate. Dat’s what I thought the first night afta our meetin, five yeers ago allredee, the night I wondered if heed call. He wuz the first boy I eva gave my numba to. I wuzza virgin at faawteen—Dickie tree yeers my seen-ya. Back den I wore a tiny gold cross round my neck. In five yeers my neck accessaries have been true quite a mettamorefasis, a tiny gold cross, to a spiked ledder colla, to a hemp twine with a glass tiadrop, to nutin, which is what I’ve worn fore-a good yeer, nutin.

click here to hear about Sky’s background

HOW TEFLON’S MOTHER AND FATHER MET

J.J. Colagrande — Wed, 22 Apr 2009 04:40:43 +0000

My moms grew up cultured. She and her two sisters were always around the theater. When offered a free ride no one acted surprised when she chose UCLA. Everyone pushed her towards L.A. Quickly, she became a rising star in the theatre department her first two years, landing leads in Romeo & Juliet and, ‘Night, Mother. She also found work on many television shows like Dynasty, WKRP in Cincinnati, Knotts Landing, and The Love Boat. One time my moms and me were watching reruns of The Love Boat and she told me that Isaac the bartender had a crush on her. She told me my name could’ve been Ted Lange, Jr. How trippy is that?? But no, at school she met Byron Jones, already an All-American as a Bruin. They clicked. My dad could be quite a charming man. Anyway, something happened to my moms at UCLA, well, two things. First her passion for the stage simmered, blame it on the sciences. In her senior year she took an anthropology course as an elective. She found the Anthropology department at UCLA impeccable, in her words. Through people associated with the department she’d travel into Northern Mexico to study the culture of indigenous Indians. My moms was a quarter Cherokee and always felt connected to that spirit. About this time, Byron Jones was drafted into the NBA by the Pistons. Soon after that my mother became pregnant.

Click here to learn about Teflon’s parents divorce

THELONIOUS RIFFS ABOUT BANDMATES

J.J. Colagrande — Tue, 21 Apr 2009 04:35:17 +0000

After dippin Teflon I hit up 7B. My ass planned on flexin to the music festival and I had to set it straight with Hurricane Clout. Only Diamonds came through for a late morning drink. Chopshop couldn’t come through cause him and his baby’s momma were going somewhere in Brooklyn. I’m not worried about Chopshop. He’ll rebound from Hurricane Clout, kid got mad skillz. Lee also couldn’t make it to 7B. He works at some bookstore on Broadway, said he had to cover some shift. Leroi Jones is a decent deejay, probably the weakest of all three, but he can mix well and has a good ear for fades. Kid’s hella smart just his heart ain’t into music. He prefers writing. He’ll probably wind up a teacher out on Strong Island. So that morning just me and Diamonds were drinkin cause we gots the rock star steez. Fuckin Diamonds! Diamonds moved to Manhattan from the Bay Area like five years ago. I know him from Trinity. Back-in-the-day the kid rolled up all lanky, sort of awkward, like the Raiders hat he rocked at a weird angle. He turned me onto West Coast hip-hop; bands like Blackalicious, Aceyalone, Abstract Rude. Only annoying thing with D is that the kid be sweatin niggas. Like that day at 7B he dropped a line about seeing Al Pacino in some coffee shop. Diamonds acted all-that, all like Al said he’s in town rehearsing for Salome, off-Broadway. Yo, like get off his dills, you don’t know the dude. Fakin da funk da bunk punk…that’s just D—it’s all-good in Hurricane Clout’s hood. My plans were to be back in New Yaawk in a few days for the gig at LIT. That’s what I told Diamonds. And that’s what I told Chopshop and Leroi Jones. You just never know, son. You just nevah know.

click here to learn about Teflon’s family

TEFLON’S PARENTS DIVORCE

J.J. Colagrande — Mon, 20 Apr 2009 04:42:21 +0000

It looked good for the image of Byron Jones to have a wife and child. We settled near Detroit. Moms took care of me the first couple of years but soon I saw maids more than both my parents combined, with Byron on the road and moms involved with local Chippewa causes. When Byron Jones was traded from the Pistons, we moved to New York. Moms took up acting again. She landed some ensemble roles Off-Broadway. When she started taking trips to the Aztec ruins, and more excursions into Northern Mexico with her UCLA anthropology associates, Byron Jones divorced her. She embarrassed him! And he didn’t need it. Byron Jones already had another woman, pregnant, younger. I was ten and went with my moms to a pad on the Lower-East Side. That’s about the time I started having the shadow nightmares. And that’s also about the time she began to crack. Like my moms totally lost track of reality. She’d stay in character for weeks after a performance. I’m pretty sure she was eating hallucinogenics on stage. Through this I remained unfazed, watched a lot of television, played mad video games, and of course b-ball. I’ve been through years of the best therapy money can buy so I’m straight with talking about this. What my moms went through was definitely related to the Indian in her blood but so what? She never pushed anything on me. She only had love for me. She acted like my guardian, like my ally. Byron Jones on the other hand, when around he’d shove a basketball down my throat. I’m not a basketball. I’m not Byron Jones, Jr. My name is Teflon. Thelonious might’ve named me but my moms allowed me to become who I am, Teflon, that’s who I am, Teflon Jones.

click here to hear Thelonious talk about leaving last minute to go see music festivals

THELONIOUS & HIS UPBRINGING

J.J. Colagrande — Sun, 19 Apr 2009 04:30:07 +0000

You know my breeding is impeccable. I come from money, good Manhattan Jewish money. I’ve had a good education. The best money can buy. Sometimes I don’t show it, talk it, act like it, but it’s there. You know Tupac went to the Baltimore School for the Arts. That nigga studied dance and ballet. It’s hip-hop that brings out the side of me you may not understand. Flair, showmanship. But it’s not an act. This shit’s real. Just cause I know this and that doesn’t mean I’m goin to flex it. Like I said I ain’t gonna use a four syllable word cause I know it. That’s fakin the funk. See in hip-hop we have our own lingo because it makes sense to us. When you’re down, you’re down, it’s headie. It ain’t like how can I be down? You-se down. Like a change machine—it just makes sense. But whatevs. So Teflon’s more refined than me. That’s his personality. Dude’s on the DL like Hughley. That’s his steez. Listen, I’ve been on the road like what, not even with Hurricane Clout, I’m tawkin about conducting the underground railroad. Eighty music fests in five years, half the time flyin Han Solo, but nevah alone. Too many brothers and sistas along the way, too much Family. The road and the Big Shitty and the scene and the partyin—it’ll make ya a lil rougher round the edges—but don’t ever think I’m fakin the funk. And don’t underestimate mi intelligence. This is what I feel. I call it keepin it real. I know where I came from. I used to know where I was goin. Stupid cocky motherfucka that I be. I wouldn’t blame you for hatin me. This thing should really be about someone else—someone more innocent, like Melody’s girl-toy. E-h-h-h, goddamn it all. You get hit with the Deer Creek needle and tell me how you feel?

click here to hear more about Thelonious’s family

THELONIOUS ON HIS PARENTS BEFORE LEAVING FOR ORACLEDANG

J.J. Colagrande — Sat, 18 Apr 2009 04:32:45 +0000

That’s the way it is over there. Their steez could cripple a weaker nigga. It’s all-good though. I don’t hate them or nothin, just they love breakin balls, they like live for it. Sometimes I can hang with it and sometimes I can’t. I’ll admit a five-minute tolerance zone could qualify us as dysfunctional. Fuck it. We’re most definitely a dysfunctional Family, but whatevs. It’s all about Family. Just like at a music fest. It’s just frustrating not to have their support, especially considering their lives. They used to be so down. When does someone who used to be down start fakin the funk? I don’t even care yo. Their disapproval wasn’t goin to stop me. It didn’t matter if the whole world tried to bring me down. It doesn’t matter if I have to go it alone. Fuck it, kid-co. I know what I want. That’s more than most niggas can say. I know what I want and deep down I believe in myself. Deep down I know I could succeed and no one or nothin can stop me! Work hard and prepare and prepare and when that window of opportunity opens all you need is the balls to forge ahead. Failure is not an option. At least that’s always been my attitude. And if what happened at The Show didn’t happen who know-se, cause Hurricane Clout got clout most definitely. Three deejays and one mc–see…the recipe, g. So my parents were trippin, what else is new? Phuket like Thailand in my land I flipped the script and wrote some lyrics about that Shiite. I write lyrics all the time. I go through pens like Buddhists go through Zen, tricks go through friendz, gold-diggaz go through endz. On the way back to my crib, I was in the park skating by the fountain and I kept hearing this hook in my head: what do you know?!? what do you know?!?

click here to Thelonious talk about his band Hurricane Clout

THELONIOUS SINGS A HOOK

J.J. Colagrande — Wed, 15 Apr 2009 13:50:52 +0000

Accidental overdoses like Bradley Nowell, Jimmy Hendrix, Jim Morrison, Janis Joplin, River Phoenix, Sid Vicious, Lenny Bruce, Heath Ledger, and Mitch Hedberg. We ain’t going out like that. We ain’t going out like that. Suicides like Kurt Cobain, Richard Brautigan, Ian Curtis, Sylvia Plath, Ernie Hemingway, Vincent Van Gogh, Virginia Woolf, John Kennedy Toole, and Hunter S. Thompson. We ain’t going out like that. We ain’t going out like that. Murdered like Phil Hartman, Jam Master J, John Lennon, Tupac Shakur, Biggie Smalls, Marvin Gaye, Gianni Versace. We ain’t going out like that. We ain’t going out like that. That’s right! Drinking ourselves to death like Truman Capote, Jack Kerouac, W.C. Fields, Lester Young. We ain’t going out like that. We ain’t going out like that.

TEFLON & THE WARRIOR’S WAY

J.J. Colagrande — Wed, 15 Apr 2009 13:47:09 +0000

I’m Teflon Jones. The kid who could’ve had the world: fame, money, glamour, pussy. The kid who walked away from what thousands of athlete’s dream of. For a large part of my life I had no choice but to see the world—to see myself—as the way people told me. A son of a celebrity—a celebrity in my own right. The way I was brought up—the things I achieved—they don’t make me. What makes me is my will—my power. Am I thinking about the millions of dollars I walked away from? No. Am I fiending for a basketball? Am I jonesing for The Cage? Not really. Although, since I’m in Chi-town, it would be cool to peep out the United Center and see in the rafters the retired red jersey of old number twenty-three, my childhood idol. Am I sorry I let down my pops? Hell no. I feel bad I let down the Knicks—but whatever—a head listens to his heart. The best part of being at the show is no one bothered me about basketball. And something changed. I feel a bizarre confidence. You could see it in my eyes. I changed when I walked away from basketball. I’m a warrior now. And the only way a warrior can act is without reservation. Can you deviate from the path your fellow men have lined up for you? If you can’t, you’re fixed forever with their terms, and that’s slavery. There isn’t an ounce of regret to weigh and sell. Life is an endless challenge, and challenges are not meant to be good or bad. I took action and died in the process. Now I’m in Chicago. I helped my brother when my brother asked. I went to battle. I acted. I don’t need to listen to TLC or live vicariously through a reality television show to know I’m a Survivor. Shit—Teflon Jones is a hunter in control. No one will push me around. So the world’s a little weird. It’s weird not because of its obstacles, not because it’s boring, the world’s weird because of its mystery. I’m aware. I’m intent on living. Every moment’s a new moment and there comes a moment when you realize you can cut anything out of your life like what, like in the blink of an eye. No time for regret, you make your decisions, and you go your way, free. My way led to Soldier’s Field not the NBA. And there’s no time to worry because there’s a thousand other decisions to be made and a thousand more after that. If I’m patient—if I can wait—I’ll succeed. I’ll succeed without stress but with effort. That’s the warrior’s way right there.

WHY THELONIOUS LOVES NEW YORK

J.J. Colagrande — Sun, 12 Apr 2009 21:27:03 +0000

I Love New York, I do, that’s why I had to get the fuck out of dodge immediately, if not sooner. Man I’m born and raised in that motherfucker and the difference between most natives and me is I get out as much as possible. I’ve seen over eighty music festivals in the past five years. When the Shitty crawls under my skin, I hit up-a-fest. And New York can really get under your skin, but don’t tell me I don’t love New York. I remember one time as a kid my parents took me to a game at Shea. The Reds were in town. It was Mookie Wilson bobblehead night. I like the Mets, so what? Prior to the game a commercial was being filmed for the city’s tourism campaign. Over the PA the director explained we were all extras, we just had to sing the slogan. There were forty thousand of us singing I-I-I-I-L-O-V-E-N-E-W-Y-O-R-K. It was so-o-o dope. All the synergy and unity, in a positive way, you know, I mean in a really positive way. I never felt so connected to any place in all my life. I literally put the Love in “I Love New York.” Then my old man had to ruin the moment with one of his snide-ass comments. I seriously believe New York is more complicated than a four word-mantra, a drink in one hand, his pipe in the other, why don’t they just play ball. I’m like five, what the fuck’s a mantra? Whenever my father critiques something somehow he ruins the magic, but sometimes the old man knows what’s up. He was right. New York is mad complicated. It can’t be minimized or simplified or whatevs. Therefore there’s only one thing left to do in New York and that’s play ball. Pops knows. Teflon knows. I didn’t meet KC until later at the fest but she knows too. If you’re a New-Yorkah, you play ball.

If you liked this, you might enjoy Mr. Horowitz’s take on Flori-duh