Cover art of their debut album, LICENSED TO ILL, a twist on the "Led Zeppelin IV" cover art. Note the little backwards "Eat Me" message on the fuselage of the plane.
Requiem
for a Beastie: Remembering Adam “MCA” Yauch
by
Michael Aushenker
So how
was your Cinco de Mayo? Yeah, well, mine kinda sucked, thanks.
Blame
the morning of May 4th. “Avengers” fever was in the air on this beautiful San
Francisco day as I prepared for the weekend’s Latino Comics Expo, an annual
convention at the Cartoon Art Museum, where I was invited up to sign copies of
my “El Gato, Crime Mangler” comics (about a dimwitted, banana-phobic luchador).
That’s
when I got this text from an amigo in San Diego: “I’m so depressed right now. I
know u know Ad Rock passed away, right?”
I was
stunned. I mean like, WTF?! Adam “King Ad-Rock” Horovitz (the wise-ass with the
nasal flow) was always my favorite Beastie Boy, followed closely by Adam “MCA”
Yauch (the husky voice), and Michael “Mike D” Diamond (the shrill one).
You
have to remember that, in the mid-1980s, to awkward teenage boys like myself,
Beastie Boys, the first all-white (and Jewish!) rap group was huge. When I
bought “Licensed to Ill,” their 1986 major-label album debut, I was a Fairfax
High School student missing my native Canarsie, and the Beasties wore their New
Yawker attitude on their snotty, beer-stained sleeves, dropping East Coast
references to delicatessens and White Castle. Brash, obnoxious and irreverent,
yet stupid-dumb clever in the Three Stooges/Cheech & Chong tradition, the
Beastie Boys were liberating. I looked up to these teens, a scant few years
older than me. Like the best rock, they represented sex, booze, drugs, mayhem,
anarchy, and all the other things I couldn’t indulge in myself. “Licensed” was
like why Jews dig “Inglourious Basterds”; a visceral, vicarious fantasy.
Seconds
after reading that text message, I realized my friend had probably gotten it
wrong. After all, it was Yauch, not Horovitz, whose well-publicized battle with
cancer had delayed the release of their last album, “Hot Sauce Committee, Part
Two,” by two years. Beastie Boys dropped out last minute from performing at
Jersey City’s All Points West festival in 2009, and Jay-Z filled in, opening
with his cover of “No Sleep Till Brooklyn.” (Even Chris Martin of Coldplay,
tickling the ivories, sang an oxymoronic, sensitive rendition of their infamous
signature single, “Fight For Your Right [to Party].”) And yet, it was announced
upon “Hot Sauce”’s May 2011 release that Yauch had beat the cancerous parotid
gland and lymph node he had contracted.
In
today’s postmodern ADD world, where “Fight for Your Right” can become elevator
music worthy of your local Ralphs (YouTube Martin’s version if you don’t
believe me...), many have forgotten how truly notorious the Beasties were “back
in the day.” Originally formed at Yauch’s 17th birthday party, Beastie Boys
caught the ear of producer Rick Rubin, who, with Russell Simmons (brother of
Joseph “Run” Simmons of Run-DMC), formed Def Jam Records out of Rubin’s NYU
dorm room. They started out as a punk rock band until scoring with underground
novelty singles such as “Cookie Puss” (Yauch’s prank call to a Carvel Ice Cream
store set to a shuffling groove).
Then
svengali Rubin put some metal polish on their style while producing their
abrasive 1986 debut “Licensed to Ill,” and, for two years, all hell broke loose
across the U.S.A. The Beastie Boys blew up. For one hot minute, during those
uptight Cold War Reagan years, they were the American Sex Pistols; anarchists
guised as glorified frat boys, sliding on spilt Budweiser across stages
worldwide adorned with strippers in cages and (until it was banned) a
monumental phallus. All kinds of notoriety made headlines, some true, much of
it fabricated or exaggerated: The Beasties were booed off stage while opening
for Madonna, had supposedly mocked a group of disabled kids, and hit a woman in
the face after winging a beer bottle into a crowd. Worst of all, Horovitz began
dating America’s sweetheart, Molly Ringwald! (That was real...) “Licensed to Ill” (discarded working
title: “Don’t Be a Faggot”) had so many controversial, outrageous, over-the-top
songs (two penned by Run-DMC, including the raunchy Wild West-themed “Paul
Revere”) intertwining sex, violence, and drug/alcohol abuse that, when the
Beasties evolved from hipster icons into socially conscious activists
throughout the ‘90s and ‘00s, they spent the rest of their career apologizing
for that anthemic album and refusing to perform their biggest “Licensed” hits
in concert (as if its goofball, cartoony humor was lost on even them).
With
“Licensed,” the Beastie Boys achieved what no rappers, not even genre pioneers
Run-DMC could: top Billboard’s album charts. “Licensed” sold a massive 4
million records (and, since its heyday, the perennial classic, has gone, um,
diamond).
Accompanying
that success, a dispute with Def Jam over royalties sent them West to Capitol
Records, where they recorded 1989’s “Paul’s Boutique,” a masterpiece so dense
with samples (created before artists had to pay for song rights) that it would
be impossibly, prohibitively costly to create such a record today. “Paul’s” was
not exactly “Licensed” Part II” either, swapping out crunchy white-boy Led Zep
and Black Sabbath riffs for black funk grooves and disco loops. Darker and
grittier than its happy-go-lucky predecessor, “Paul’s” bombed hard, barely
approaching gold. Yet within a few short years, this rambling, transmuting
urban odyssey not only became regarded as a masterpiece for the Beasties, but
for hip hop at large. It was a gigantic sonic leap from “Licensed,” a more
compact, relatively minimalist adrenaline rush of teenage rebellion.
As they
grew up from Boys to men, the trio became musically restless and confident
enough to go out of character for a few tracks (sometimes for entire albums)
and eschew their comfort-food tag-team style for their punk roots or lounge-y
funk/jazz/rock tendencies. Personality-wise, they became reformed Beasties,
more serious––even preachy––and Yauch led the charge, trading his Judaism
(mother’s side) for Buddhism after marrying Dechen Wagnu and forming the
Milarepa Fund, a 501(3)(C) supporting the Tibetan independence movement. Yauch
also formed, with THINKFilm executive David Fenkel, the successful indie
distribution company Oscilloscope Laboratories, which released, among other
movies, the Michelle Williams showcase “Wendy & Lucy,” and Oscar-nominated
films “The Messenger” and Banksy documentary “Exit Through the Gift Shop.”
So upon
learning of Yauch’s death, the memories and anecdotes started flooding out of
me. Back in 1987, my best friend Rich and I already had tickets to see the
Run-DMC/Beastie Boys “Together Forever Tour” at the Greek Theatre, where, in a
cosmic coincidence, our Fairfax High graduation ceremony was being held just
one week prior. It didn’t matter that Jennifer Zivolich, the unattainable
cheerleader I had been lusting over in silent desperation, had, by some failure
in alphabetical seating, been placed next to me during graduation rehearsals
and rejected me after I slipped her a love letter. Rich and I had memorized our
seat numbers and we were already salivating over our front tier seats. “Screw
graduation! One week from tonight, we’re going to see the Beastie Boys!”
Needless
to say, the concert lived up to its promised infamy. A year later, when I
returned to the Greek for a Run-DMC concert (also featuring Public Enemy and
EPMD in their prime), the headliners interrupted the show to welcome some
surprise guests. The crowd went bananas as Yauch and company emerged to perform
several songs, including one unrecognizable one with memorable lyrics about
burgers and chicken and nose-picking which the Dust Brothers later musically
reworked as “Paul’s” hyperactive opener, “Shake Your Rump.”
What’s
really weird, I realized last weekend, was how MCA, towards the end of
“Paul’s,” performed a rare solo freestyle titled “A Year and a Day.” I guess
back in ‘89, he called it, because on May 4, Yauch died exactly “a year and a
day” after the release of “Hot Sauce,” their final album.
While
in San Francisco, I heard there was an outpouring of celebrity grief hitting
the Twittersphere in the wake of Yauch’s passing. Justin Timberlake was
crushed, Jay-Z saddened, and Ben Stiller (such a diehard fan, he appeared in
the crowd of a Beasties concert film) devastated. Even Simmons, dissed on
“Paul’s,” praised Yauch’s legacy.
Thankfully,
Yauch lived long enough to see his group inducted into the Rock ‘N’ Roll Hall
of Fame last month (although he couldn’t attend).
Yet by
far, the best MCA tribute came from Yauch himself. As “Nathanial Hörnblowér,”
Yauch had, for years, been directing Beastie videos such as “Intergalactic” and
“Body Movin’.” Last year, for “Hot Sauce”’s lead single “Make Some Noise,”
Yauch shot a 30-minute long-form video, “Fight for Your Right (to Party)
Revisited,” that doubled as cheap sequel and spoof of their teen hit. The video
begins with Seth Rogen as Mike D., Elijah Wood as Ad-Rock, and Danny McBride as
MCA (impersonating circa-1986 Beasties in their B-Boy caricature garb) and ends
in a face off with futureshock counterparts John C. Reilly, Will Ferrel and
Jack Black, emerging out of a “Back to the Future” DeLorean to challenge them
to a dance contest. The video may drag in spots, but it’s a testament to the
Beasties’ enduring popularity that joining those feature-comedy superstars are
a who’s who of hip actors and hipster icons, from Rainn Wilson, Rashida Jones
and Mya Rudolph, to Susan Sarandon, Stanley Tucci and Kirsten Dunst, to Steve
Buscemi, Chloe Sevigny, Jason Schwartzman, Ted Danson and Mary Steenburgen, and
so on.
Two
moments have, in retrospect, become poignant: a cameo by a skateboarding
13-year-old Lorel Yauch, the tall, lanky daughter MCA left behind...and the
video’s punchline ending; breaking up that dance battle, dressed as cops, are
the real Beastie Boys. While Horovitz and Diamond figure prominently, there’s
only a fleeting, distant shot of Yauch, looking gaunt, frail and aged in a
prematurely white beard (hiding surgical scars?).
So is
there a silver lining after Yauch’s passing? Not ostensibly. Because Beastie
Boys, as a group, are done––they were irreplaceable and not interchangeable.
(You can’t just hire a new bassist like Wilco or something.) On the plus side,
since celebrities die in threes, at least Horovitz and Diamond didn’t follow.
(The guy who played Goober Pyle and Maurice Sendak count, right?).
Perhaps
Yauch’s legacy is that others will be inspired by his activism and his support
of independent filmmakers in an age when movie studios do not. And while one
can argue those last two albums are relatively “meh,” the Beastie Boys aged
gracefully, staying creative and commercially successful into middle age. In
rap years, the Beasties were AC/DC. What other ‘80s rap act
can you name that has topped the charts and stayed relevant for 26 years?
(Answer: none). Even LL Cool J and Queen Latifah have become actors to survive
in the ever-changing entertainment world while PE hype man Flavor Flav resorted
to making out with Brigitte Neilsen in a swimming pool for cable ratings.
Back to
Cinco de Mayo...Following the Comics Expo, my cartoonist buddy Jose and I
walked a dozen blocks through the streets of San Francisco at sunset to meet
our peers at an after-party. The Mission was like a Bizarro World Mardi Gras
mash-up of season two of “Eastbound and Down” and Brooklyn circa 1986; awash
with drunken non-Mexican males (Asians, blacks, gringos) in giant sombreros and
scandalously dressed women partying to a Beastie Boys soundtrack blasting out
of the cars cruising up and down Mission Street. It gave me goose bumps to hear
chunks of “Brass Monkey,” “The New Style,” and other “Licensed” cuts––chunks of
my youth––coming from every direction. It was also kind of cool. No apologies
necessary.
Michael
Aushenker writes for the Malibu Times and is a cartoonist who has contributed
to Heavy Metal magazine and Gumby and Pokey comics. His latest comic book,
“Bart Simpson” # 70, is now on sale internationally at newsstands and book
shops everywhere. Visit CartoonFlophouse.com
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