By Malice Intended
Biz Markie is a living testament to the importance of remaining true to oneself and one’s vision. On the one hand he is self-styled court jester. On the other, he simply took the path of least resistance; embracing attributes that seemed more like limitations to outsiders. In the hands of a much less bold performer, Biz’s pedigree might well have been a Hip-Hop death sentence. In the hands of the “Clown Prince of Hip-Hop,” that same pedigree proved a recipe for success.
Though he dressed the part (customized truck jewelry, trendy attire) Biz had almost none of the supposedly necessary tools to be a successful rapper during the golden era. He wasn’t the most skilled or versatile MC. He definitely didn’t have the swagger of an L.L Cool J, and he refused to take himself seriously. To top it all off, he suffered from an extremely severe appearance deficit. You wouldn’t find too many posters of Biz gracing the walls of adoring female Hip-Hop fans in the late 80’s.
Biz did have a penchant for unabashed silliness. The super-lyrical, gangsta and politically conscious strains of Hip-Hop came of age during the golden era. As those sentiments swallowed the culture whole, rappers began taking themselves a whole lot more seriously. Biz took the opposite route, indulging in childish silliness and juvenilia. He reveled in scatological humor and absurdity. No topic was too outlandish, or too disgusting. Perennial favorites such as the immortal “Pickin’ Boogers,” showed that no subject was too bugged for Biz:
Yo, don’t try to front like it’s so gloomy and gray/‘Cause we all pick our boogers sometime every day
Whether out in the open or on a sneak tip/With a finger, tissue, or even a Q-Tip
His position in the fabled Juice Crew reflected his position in Hip-Hop as a whole. Marley Marl was the producer of the moment, Big Daddy Kane and Kool G Rap were reputed lyrical assassins with decidedly different approaches. Masta Ace and Craig G were also lyrical technicians. Amidst all of this, there was Biz. He was the polar opposite of his brethren but he pushed the Hip-Hop envelope in his own unique way.
Like his more arrogant golden era contemporary Slick Rick, Biz wasn’t afraid to paint himself as the proverbial loser. His biggest hit, “Just a Friend,” is a cautionary tale about giving his heart to a woman that appears a bit too close to her male friends. Even more effective was the rags-to-riches tale “Vapors.” It was one of the few “serious” offerings from the Biz Markie cannon, and also one of the very best.
Biz’s 1988 Cold Chillin’ debut Goin’ Off has remained one of my very favorite Hip-Hop albums even now. Most rappers’ attempts at comedy are forced and corny. Biz, was unabashedly sincere with his antics and you could tell that when the camera stopped rolling, he would still be snapping on your moms. We learn growing up that humor is often a way to mask and process pain. Instead of buckling under the pressure, you roll with the punches and turn your “flaws” into virtues. For my money, no one did that better than Biz. Without him, could there be a “however” to Biggie’s “black and ugly as ever?”
To every rapper whose efforts are initially met with severe criticism or outright disdain, I suggest looking to the one and only Biz Markie as not only a role model, but a kindred spirit. He showed that to earn a place in Hip-Hop, all you have to do is simply be yourself. To my knowledge, Biz is the only member of the Juice Crew collective to score a top ten pop hit and platinum single. He struck a genuine cord with the public, and was summarily rewarded. That is the true spirit of Hip-Hop. Everybody plays the fool, but none played with more flair than the Diabolical.
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