The big voice of the All Stars goes solo, with a new rock-star name
By Chris King
For the St. Louis American
I was riding last weekend with my 2-year-old tyke, who is growing up with STL hip-hop in her little ears, when a call went to voice mail on my cell phone. I checked it when I stopped for some rib tips at St. Louis Q, at the corner of Goodfellow and West Florissant.
The message had somehow been marked “urgent.” I didn’t know you could tell my cell phone your message was “urgent.” I called up the message.
“Chris King, this is Nimmy Russell, of the All Stars,” a very familiar, growly, raspy, and indeed urgent voice was telling me.
“I’ve got something I need you to do for me. I’m about to come out with my own mix tape, Welcome to the Beautiful People’s Club, the Doors are Finally Open, and I want you to lace up the intro for me.”
I had to smile. It is, after all, nice to be asked. After me and the kid split some tips, I called Nimmy back. We had never spoken on the phone before.
Nimmy picked up. He was out of the chute explaining, fast.
“This is gonna be my new foundation. We’re doing it all through family, at Quit Playing/Black on Black,” he said, a reference to the All Stars’ management team of Guccio, Just Black and Alice Prince.
“I want to bring in all my family, all the people that been there with me, and know what it took to get where we are today.”
The All Stars are bigger now than ever, with All City in national distribution and recently celebrated with celebrity turn-out and fan madness at Plush. But I’ve only been writing about them for less than a year, and they were hot on the streets when I found them. So I wasn’t sure how I fit into this family concept.
“That story you wrote about me being the rich old man in robe and slippers was the first real recognition I ever got for all this music I have been working on for so long and hard,” Nimmy continued, and I began to understand.
“You even got your own song on this mix tape, where I thank you for the beautiful words you wrote about me. I need you to drop the intro for me.”
“I’ll do it,” I said, and went back to riding with my 2-year-old.
I had some thinking to do. In the brief time I have known Nimmy’s work (I can’t say I know the man, not yet), I have poured forth a great many words about his storytelling ability, his unforgettable hooks and his great, big growl of a voice. I really do believe he has the ability and the drive to be the next it artist out of St. Louis and the rich, old man in robe and slippers.
But I come out of the bookworm world of five-page introductions. On a mix tape, you want more like five seconds – definitely less than a minute.
I began to rehearse in the car, cutting everything I wanted to say about Nimmy down to everything I needed to say. This was confusing to my kid, who of course thought Daddy was talking to her and felt the need to respond every time I spoke a line. But we got it done.
I rolled up into the studio Monday night. I had been sick all day and felt like my head was underwater, but Nimmy was on deadline, and I understand deadlines. Now was the time.
Eric Peterson was at the mix console, playing tracks for Nimmy, his personal assistant (whom they call “Duke”) and a couple of brothers from the scene, A Verb and Mr. Clean. No posturing or representing, here; just tired artists getting it right.
Duke looked like a down-to-earth girl, wearing nurse scrubs for pants. “I have that article you wrote about Nimmy laminated on my coffee table,” she said. “He should be the rich, old man in robe and slippers.”
I was happy that idea had sunk in. I like to see talent flourish over time, not flame out in drugs and death.
My man came in behind me. I learned from rappers that you never roll in alone. You always try to get somebody on with you. DJ Chill Will, the chopped-and-screwed dude with the Midwest Kingz, made the date as my guest.
“O couldn’t make it,” Chill said, referring to his partner and brother, Tha Infamou$-O. “Our little brother almost drowned today. Everybody is at the hospital.”
Hip-hop always has a way of having death at the edges, checking you out.
Nimmy pulled up his new track “I’d Die For You,” which samples its hook from the old Bon Jovi song. Nimmy had told me he was coming out as a “rock star” on this tape, with a new name to reflect that: Nimmy Hendrix.
“This is your song,” Duke said.
Sure enough, as the track came up, there was that big, old growl of a voice, thanking Chris King of the St. Louis American for the beautiful words. I was way down with that, and it had the intended effect of hyping me to do this intro.
I went into the booth, got on mike, and got it right with one take.
“Welcome to the Beautiful People Club, the doors are finally open. This is Chris King on the Hip-Hop Grapevine with St. Louis American newspaper, lacing one up for my man, Nimmy Russell, Nimmy Hendrix, the All Star,” I spit.
“When Nimmy left me a message asking me to do this intro, my cell phone said the message was ‘urgent.’ I didn’t even know you could tell my cell phone your message was ‘urgent,’ until Nimmy called me, but Nimmy figured it out,” I continued.
“Nimmy is an urgent brother, he is a man of urgency, and I love him for his urgency, for his poetry, for his growl of a voice, and for his hooks. And I’m proud to be lacing him up on his first mix tape. So, welcome to the Beautiful People Club, the doors are finally open.”
Nimmy Hendrix’s mix tape Welcome to the Beautiful People Club, the Doors are Finally Open will hit the streets later this week.
