CircuitsI told this story during my last radio show, but I'm re-capping it here because it's funny and embarrassing.
My early introduction to hip-hop came via an NYC public access TV show called Video Music Box. This was around 1984, when I was a young teenager who was ready to migrate away from the heavy metal that had dominated my listening until that point. I blundered into Video Music Box totally by accident and was immediately transfixed by the likes of Run DMC, LL Cool J, the Fat Boys, Kurtis Blow, and Roxanne Shante. I eventually followed the still-scanty hip-hop trail to late night radio on WBLS (Mr. Magic) and KISS-FM (Chuck Chillout, DJ Red Alert), but that's a story for another day.
Like Soul Train, Dance Fever, and American Bandstand before it, Video Music Box was on after school, which planted it front and center for any kid who might care to engage, even if the culture it represented was 30 miles away from my suburban home. It was appointment television at least until I got my driver's license a few years later and then quit hip-hop for a spell in favor of punk and hardcore. Typical of the wandering interests for any adolescent music freak in search of his people.
Fast forward twenty years. I am now a grown ass man living in the city and working full time as WFMU's Special Events Director. My primary responsibility is running the station's fabled Record Fair -- an internationally revered vinyl swap/sale for 2000+ music geeks with left-of-center taste. Running the three day Manhattan event is the most manic and stressful weekend of my entire professional life, and by the end of day two, I am pretty much coasting on some unholy alliance of free beer, adrenalin, Two Boots pizza, and black coffee. My eyelids are just short of being propped open with toothpicks and (I am told, repeatedly) there is dried spittle in the corners of my mouth. (Hello ladies!🙄)
Seated at the WFMU information table with a cadre of other staffers and station volunteers, I am approached by fellow DJ and general hero to good humans everywhere, Monica Lynch. Monica is the former president of Tommy Boy Records and helped launch the careers of De la Soul, Prince Paul, Naughty by Nature, and countless other iconic hip-hop artists.
She is also a total mensch, and with a broad smile, she asks how I'm holding up and if I need anything. I nod and tell her I'm fine, and she quickly turns to a gentlemen companion whom I don't recognize and says: "Mike, you're a hip-hop head from way back, so let me introduce you to a good friend of mine, this is Fab Five Freddy."
"Shit", I think, "Fab Five Freddy is famous and I'm not 100% sure why.... Just fake it, man, don't be an idiot."
Perhaps sensing some insecurity in my expression, Monica chimes in helpfully by saying "I know you remember him as the host of Yo! MTV Raps, right?"
Yo! MTV Raps started in the late 80s, which is also when I got my driver's license. As mentioned above, once I had wheels, TV was not something on my radar, so I had only a dim awareness of that show when it was on for the reasons described above. Nevertheless, I knew enough to register that meeting its host was a BFD.
Freddy smiles warmly and extends his hand for me to shake. "Fan of the show?" he asks, with raised eyebrows.
To which I -- in my toothpick-propped eyelid and dry-spittled lip state reply: "Y'know, I was more of a Video Music Box guy, I never really watched Yo! MTV Raps."
Awkward silence descends. Monica coughs politely. Freddy looks past me, with polite disinterest -- clearly ready to move on from this exchange.
"Hey sweetie, we'll catch up with you later", Monica finally says, gathering up the remains of the moment and eyeing the floor of vinyl booths which she and Freddy are now clearly ready to descend upon. I thank them for coming and take my seat again behind the WFMU info booth.
"Was that weird?" my friend and colleague Scott Williams asks me. He'd been sitting nearby and had witnessed the entire exchange.
"Jesus Christ, I am such a fucking idiot", I reply. "I just made a complete ass of myself in front of Monica and Fab Five Fuckin' Freddy."
It's a moment that still haunts me to this day, but in general, is 100% on-brand for my inability to maintain my cool around famous people. (See also: when I accidentally handed Joe Strummer a bag of trash, or the time I hid from PJ Harvey to AVOID meeting her.)
