Grand Cooley

Portland | Written by Tyler Benson

Do you ever get the feeling that you’re not in on something really funny, but you really want to be but there is no way for you to even begin wrapping your head around this particular inside joke so you just kind of laugh along with it, although your laughs are forced in comparison to the guys who are actually in on the joke? They’re laughing and laughing and could care less if anybody gets the joke but them, and that burns you up so much because that’s the reason why you wanted to be in on the joke in the first place? Let me tell you about the first time that I visited the Grand Cooley website…

Rather… let me tell you about the first time I met two members of the Grand Cooley label; “a beat, rhyme, hip-hop collective”. It was the middle of a Thursday afternoon in front of Redwing Café when I spoke with members Roberta Frost (aka Jacob) and Illslur (aka Nick) about whether this inside joke was intentionally funny or if I was simply insulting their intensions. I explained to them my cold impressions of Grand Cooley’s webpage to which Jacob smiled and replied, “I like that. That is what hip-hop should be. It shouldn’t be shoved down your throat and be made a parody of itself. It should be a club you want to join. Keep its humor, but don’t make it a laughing stock it.”

Holding socialistic views on dispensing ideas, beats and collaboration with one another, Grand Cooley unknowingly began when any one of its members first decided to pick up a mic and try their hand at the art of rhyme. The collective officially began in Minneapolis, MN nearly 5 years ago with one of the founding members Illslur. “The idea was a digital hip-hop record label where artists can make music collaborating with the other artists on the label and everything created is available free to download by the public.” The Grand Cooley workshop currently touts 20 such records available on their website, www.grandcooley.com

Spanning across the country and holding members in Minnesota, Arizona, Oregon and a number of other states, Grand Cooley spreads its art form in a virtual method with members rarely ever seeing each other face-to-face. While not all those considered associates of the label are musical contributors, they are still considered in high regard by the musicians based upon their dedication and fanaticism towards the label and the Hip-Hop scene. When asked how many members were currently in the Portland area, Jacob and Nick each began naming them off on fingers that soon ran too few. “I would say probably around 30 heads at any given time.”

The Grand Cooley label is an umbrella which shelters nearly 20 performing artists by stage names of Captain, Manimal, Partytime or Hype Monster. From these solo artists clump parings and groups featuring an assortment of styles with the bynames Crop-Dopplers, Beach Bros’, Daddy Clap Your Ass and House Party Revolution (HPR); HPR being the most homage paying Grand Cooley venture. Dressed in hype-robes, singlets, uni-tards, old lady dresses and masks, the HPR will take to the streets with nearly 30 strong simply looking for a house party. “We’ll get calls from people telling us to stop by or we’ll just walk up and down neighborhood streets looking for a guy with a 30 pack of beer.” From their, HPR will invade. “That is pretty much how Hip-Hop got its start.” Bringing their own amplifiers and mics, your party immediately gets a hyphy filled performance and an upgrade from fun with friends to a fucking blast.

While I cringe at having to state this, Grand Cooley functions as a nearly all-white cooperative of Hip-Hop. “That is the most ignorant title”, Jacob tells me. “Why feel the need to classify white. Is the idea of a white rapper really that revolutionary anymore?”. It is simply one of many classifications that both Nick and Jacob find troubling with the current status of Hip-Hop in today’s society. “Bring the risk back”, Jacob pleads. “My mom’s listening to most of this shit on the radio nowadays”, Nick adds. “Hip-Hop used to freak people out. It used to intentionally set itself apart from any other form of music because it was like no other form of music. Now, if you try anything different than the 50 Cent status-quo, people talk shit about what you’re doing”.

Aside from the old school admiration of an HPR, all the Grand Cooley members take to their concerts with the same amount of hype and excitation that used to be present in the south Bronx nearly 30 years ago. “We’ll just pass the mic into the audience and let some drunk mother fucker rhyme for awhile. After the audience gets tired of that, we’ll start it back up. We’ll walk down into the audience, we’ll invite people up on stage. We go into every show with an idea that anybody who decided to attend loves Hip-Hop culture and they’re going to treat it with the same amount of respect as we do every show we play.”

A truly positive use of technology, desire and truth towards an art form held so passionately by so remaining few. The Grand Cooley idea is the anti-MTV message. Stop looking up to Kanye’s bitching because he didn’t win awards. Stop felating P. Diddy for keeping it so self-righteous and clichéd tough. Stop listening to Chris Brown just because he can dance. Get with a revolution that is most likely happening at a house party near you. Support Hip-Hop for the right reasons. Support Hip-Hop for all the reasons Grand Cooley is functioning.