Just because reporters throw curveballs doesn't mean we like hitting them.
I'm supposed to interview someone from D12, the six-member, Eminem-fronted, platinum-selling Detroit collective, but I haven't a clue who.
The publicist thinks it'll be Proof.
Cool. I like him. The guy's got a good hip-hop pedigree: winner of The Source magazine's Unsigned Hype Award; universally respected; a battle rhymer nonpareil; inspiration for the character Future in 8 Mile. The next best thing to landing Eminem.
I start doing background study.
Hold up, it's the publicist: "It could be Proof, but it could also be someone else. Kon Artis was doing interviews and so was Swift. I'll let you know."
Great. Three potential subjects, triple the research.
A short time later, the phone rings. Change of plans. Publicist: "I'm not sure who it will be. It could be anybody."
Six possible subjects then, adding Bizarre, Kuniva and Eminem. Oops, got ahead of myself, make that five: "It won't be Eminem ... and they're not answering questions about (the beef) with Source magazine."
Forty minutes before the interview, the phone again.
"You'll be interviewing ...
Swift, a.k.a, Ondre Moore, is on Detroit's west side multitasking. "I'm relaxing, writing rhymes and watching ESPN."
Highlights of the Pistons' (up three games to one at the time) manhandling of the Lakers dance across the screen and the roughest-edged of the D12'ers starts freestyling: "The Lakers are scared, unprepared and growing gray hairs because the Pistons are there, yeah, yeah."
Four Questions the Weekly Would Have Asked D12's Swift If His Cell Phone Hadn't Conked Out, Despite His Publicist Asking Us Not To |
1) Of all the infamous last names—Hussein, Amin, Cheney—why pick "McVeigh"? 2) Who's better, Ja Rule or Benzino? (Both hate Eminem). 3) Who's prettier, Britney Spears or Christina Aguilera? (Both hate Eminem). 4) Which is better, XXL or The Source? (Publishers of the latter labeled Eminem a racist for lyrics early in his career denigrating blacks.)
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I can't see him, but I bet Moore is smiling, which seems like a foreign muscle movement for his typically scowling face. Blame it on Detroit. The D can be a tough place to grow up, violence as natural as breathing—a perennial murder-capital-of-the-nation contender and the winner in 2001.
It's because of violence that Moore is even in D12. Original member Kornail "Bugz" Pitts was fatally shotgunned on May 21, 1991, after a fistfight. Pitts' longtime wish was for Moore to be in the group, whose initial formation was to include 12 emcees but was scaled to six because members could only find a half-dozen up to their standards. Initially, Eminem was a transitional member.
"We knew each other for 10 years, so I was already cool with the brothers when D12 came out .... Every time D12 did shows, I supported and they supported me as I did my own thing," says Moore, who prior to joining, had his own group. "Bugz felt I was lyrically tight. So it was really easy once I got in the group."
Yet the "Good Die Young," a tribute to Bugz, didn't make the debut album: "We had to establish ourselves as artists first. It was always on our minds to keep Bugz's name alive. We felt like we owed it to him."
On wax, Moore's voice is defiant, muscular, not needing to spout invective to be believable—the antithesis to Eminem's Arnold Horshack.
Perhaps toughest for D12, Moore says, was living up to Em's evil genius and living down claims they were riding his jock. Some critics considered the 2 million-selling Devils Night a disappointment, considering Em's global buzz (about 10 million records sold). Conversely, Moore couldn't have been happier; the success proved that the backups could win despite limited support from the star player.
"We appreciated going two million copies. We showed and proved that Em was not bringing us along because we're his friends," Moore says. "Ain't nobody trying to waste time and money on somebody with no talent."
D12 World gave each member a chance to step out, step up and step on toes, the latter being necessary to restore street credibility lost via pop-rap singles like "My Band."
"You want the world to love your material, but you got to balance it out," Moore says. "We went pop because the audience that loves pop accepted our music. Some street cats accepted it, too. [With D12 World], we tried to let the crowd know who we are individually, but at the same time we couldn't let down the pop crowd who made us double platinum."
As D12's future has brightened, Moore says Detroit has witnessed a revival, no longer the "musical ghost town" it was after Motown Records closed shop. Hip-hop is powering the renaissance. Underground artists producing albums and starting labels, clubs playing hip-hop almost every night of the week, plentiful open-mike events. Being in the center of the country offers a unique perk: the influences of every coast in one city.
"So we can stay five steps ahead of everybody else," Moore says. "Detroit MCs are definitely on the rise."
As for who's the best rapper within D12, the answer may surprise you.
"Proof is the top-dog champion of freestyling. The man cannot be stopped. He's never lost a battle," Moore says.
Better than Eminem? "I'll say this again, Proof is the champion of freestyle. Period. Period."