It’s the bedrock story line of hip-hop: Four rappers are down on
their luck, plagued with financial woes and girlfriends who leave
bloody Maxi Pads in the toilet, not exactly humble but definitely
hungry. The artists in question — Smooth Rick “the Chosen,”
Chachi Harlem, Tyrone Shoelaces, and Felix “the Gully Champion”
Livinglow — are all pretty convinced of their own sex appeal and
blithely unaware of all their shortcomings. Smooth Rick says he’s come
up with the perfect scheme. He’s come by a cell phone family plan, and
thinks the four of them should launch a “Hot Velour” sex hotline for
which they would, well, objectify themselves. It’s a fabulous epiphany
that goes horribly awry.
Such is the premise for Tales from the Velvet Pocket, the
2009 debut album by Bay Area rap comedy group Kalri$$ian. The group
formed in 2004 as a camp response to their hip-hop forebears. In its
first iteration Kalri$$ian included three emcees (Livinglow would
arrive from London the following year) and two producers, Keylo
Venezuela and “Uncle” Tony Highrise. Each member cultivated a persona
and inhabited it: Chachi and Smooth Rick donned 1970s pimp apparel and
took the libertine values of hip-hop to the next level of
scandalousness. Keylo Venezuela acquired a Spanish accent and linked
himself to a fictional drug cartel. Tyrone Shoelaces was a swindler
with a lengthy CV who started pimping in the third grade. Tony Highrise
presented himself as a “liquid asset” with a lot of useful connections.
That year they recorded the track “Lobby Room,” a woozy mélange
of 1960s lounge samples, over which Smooth Rick and Chachi rapped
— in a rather drugged-out, disinterested way — about their
dissolute lifestyle. British-born Livinglow joined Kalri$$ian in 2005
and created his own personal myth: He was a failed hustler with a
weakness for chapped-lipped hookers.
Sometimes, their elaborate fiction gets the better of them. Take the
recent Monday night when Kalri$$ian arranged for an interview at
Secrets Adult Super Store, a sex-toy shop in downtown Oakland. Their
manager Jacob Battersby (better known by his emcee name, Celsius 7) had
said it would be convenient, since one of them supposedly worked there.
So at 8 p.m. five of the six artists (sans Tony Highrise) were
clustered around a dildo display in full regalia: leather jackets,
aviator sunglasses, handlebar mustaches. Smooth Rick had flecks of
white powder stuck to his nostrils. They were accompanied by sometime
manager and accountant Bernie “the Touch” Goldsmith, a bumbling Bernie
Madoff caricature who didn’t seem slick enough to actually be
embezzling finances, but who aroused suspicion nonetheless. The whole
cabal could have been transplanted from a really bad British spy
film.
In person, though, the emcees were chivalrous and accommodating.
They offered to lead an impromptu tour of the shop, starting with the
copious porn collection — which ran the gamut from gang-bang
fantasies to fat-girl porn to MLFs — then moving on to the
dildos. “That’s me on the beach,” said Chachi, pointing to a giant
coffee-brown prosthetic with a curved tip. “That’s me in Brazil.”
Someone else chimed in: “Do you want anything? We’ll give you the
employee’s discount.” Over at the counter, a clerk was glaring at the
group. Other patrons averted their eyes. It quickly became apparent
that nobody in the band actually worked there.
Kalri$$ian borrows its MO from Sasha Baron Cohen, in the sense that
each emcee is so thoroughly convinced of his own persona that he never
steps out of it. They often travel in a pack, usually in costume,
usually with a group of girls (the “Kalri$$ian Kitties”) in tow. They
flirt inappropriately, make mysterious trips to the restroom, and
frequently get kicked out of places (or flee right on the verge of
that) for having a bad attitude. Take the Fat Lady Restaurant in Jack
London Square, where the emcees sought refuge after the sex shop
episode. Convinced that the Fat Lady was actually a brothel for obese
women, they marched up to the bar and asked to see the goods. “What
time does she work?” demanded Smooth Rick, pointing to the Fat Lady
logo on a bar napkin.
Their whole act is a bit of a put-on, but the emcees manage to stage
some kind of altercation anywhere they go. Battersby said he signed the
group to his label, Psychokinetics, after meeting them in a Vegas
nightclub a few years ago. “I saw these dudes in a bar with cigars, all
these rubbers hanging out of their pockets, sunglasses on, hanging
around with all these girls,” he said. “It reminded me of Prince Paul
and De La’s old shit — fully engulfed characters.” Indeed, the
guys are fairly good at holding a long, involved conversation without
breaking character. “We have a multitiered corporation going here,”
Tyrone explained to the bartender at Fat Lady. “We’re starting a
cellular service that calls only to our sex hotline. It’s kind of like
Metro PCS.” He later elaborated on the group’s business plan, saying
they occasionally hire themselves out for bachelorette parties.
Tales from the Velvet Pocket takes the sex hotline plot in
all kinds of funky directions. (They even sample an office phone ring
in several beats.) The opening is a parody of Raekwon’s 1995 album
Only Built 4 Cuban Linx, which also featured an inspiring,
feel-good narrative about rappers on the come-up. The Kalri$$ian
version is a little more complicated. Their Velour Hotline ultimately
attracts a lot of perverts and fetishists. Felix Livinglow contracts an
STD from one of the callers — some exotic strain called
“siphylisgonomydia,” which results in his dismemberment. After three
months, Chachi is still wearing his PE uniform from middle school. They
try to advance the scheme with a casino scam, which only gets them in
deeper hot water. Toward the end, Smooth Rick’s penis — an alter
ego named Perseus — takes over his brain. At the end they end
they magically figure out how to optimize their revenue stream, and
make a profit after all. They celebrate with a forty-ounce of specialty
malt liquor.
Even then, the future seems unclear. The emcees of Kalri$$ian have a
knack for storytelling and a ready-made niche carved out by
ultra-libidinal rappers Dirt Nasty and Mickey Avalon (who both cameo on
Tales from the Velvet Pocket). But they continually surround
themselves with venal managers and inept financiers. Asked to comment
on the group’s status, Bernie the Touch politely declined, using
Battersby as an emissary. “Bernie told me 2 tell you he cant talk
today,” Battersby wrote in another text message. “He is in the midst of
negotiating a central american real estate deal. sounds shady. if I can
help further, holler.”
Kalri$$ian: The East Bay Express Interview from Jonathan Mann on Vimeo.
