By shelz.
It is always amusing to listen to a new wave of rap cats ranting and raving about their hustle and flow as they ascend the ladder of success. The grind is top notch. The lyrical skills have separated them from the great bottle neck of rappers, leaving them king of all that is Hip-Hop. Their cockiness and never ending supply of yes men make it easy for them to believe that the career trail they just blazed through was virgin territory until they blessed the mic.
Of course none of that is true. That path was bulldozed and cemented decades ago by those who rooted out some of the dead ends, drop offs and booby traps so the Drakes of today could have an easier time becoming successful. They didn’t kick in doors, they created them. Yet in our desire to always find what is next, we sometimes forget what has passed. However, we can’t forget today. Life has provided us a sad reminder that at some point we have to pay homage to those who came before. Friday we were forced to say goodbye to John “Mr. Magic” Rivas.
When Rivas started, there was no label that wanted your demo, no cable channels to pray your video get play. There weren’t even any radio stations that would take a chance on Hip-Hop. Rivas and his compadres were instrumental in making a lot of that happen and they did it without the help of managers, handlers, or anyone else people feel are necessary for their posse these days. It was a flight out on faith that all of us have since reaped the benefits of.
Mr. Magic, aka Sir Juice, was the first rap DJ on commercial radio and that deal was born of work ethic and talent. His adopted squad of emcees, The Juice Crew was responsible for some of rap’s greatest songs and heralds of the first golden age. His constant attempts at besting fellow spin doctor DJ Red Alert spawned the idea of battle on a business level. He helped grow the culture without a blueprint and made every young fan a soldier against sleep to catch his show in the wee hours of the morning. You couldn’t go to school on Monday and look your friends in the face if you didn’t have your weekly rap attack.
After his six years helming the first show of its kind in the nation and exposing folks to artists they would have never known if it weren’t for him, he stepped down from his position of radio trailblazer and moved on to production. The new millennium found him again in radio but this time as the notorious Wildstyle DJ for Vice City in Rockstar’s popular video game, Grand Theft Auto.
Mr. Magic was one of the founding fathers of the commercial era; an architect of the stairs upon which every new class of young emcees stands upon. Almost every move this man made created a set of circumstances for the Hip-Hop Nation that pushed us further and the after shock can be felt to this day.
“I turn on my radio. I cover my ears. I can’t have it. Where the fuck is Red Alert? Where is Mr. Magic? I guess I gotta get with the times. My mind state is ’88 but my style is ’09.” ~Blaq Poet
John Rivas is to be revered, respected and he will most definitely be missed. Rest in peace Mr. Magic. We will remember.
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