BUCK 65

Hello. I'm Buck 65 and this is my bio…

I was born with the name Ricardo Terfry. Where I come from, it's common when a boy is named after his father, for the father to refer to the son as 'Buck'. I don't know where that comes from or when it started. It might be a 'out-in-the-country' thing. Growing up I knew lots of sons who were referred to as 'Buck'. Sometimes even if they weren't juniors. So the joke became, I was one of 65 (a number picked randomly) 'Bucks' in my town.

I also get asked all the time, "how would you describe your sound?" I don't have a good answer for that either. I could say "hip hop", but a lot of people would disagree with that. Why would they? Well, best I can figure is that it's a very conservative genre and my take on it is very liberal, to say the least.

I've long argued that the roots of hip hop music go all the way back to folk and blues – even minstrel music that pre-dates the birth of both those genres (take a listen to a song called 'The Gypsy' by Emmett Miller to see where I'm coming from, for example). But I can understand how that could be seen as an unpopular and controversial idea. Also, I have a broad definition of the genre that includes a lot of records most others probably wouldn't include.

Hip hop (and especially the teachings and ideals of Afrika Bambaataa) is very important to what I do. But maybe in fairness, it should be seen as some kind of starting point for me. I write songs on a wide variety of topics – many of which are not common ones in hip hop, admittedly. When writing a song, considerations of hip hop or street credibility never cross my mind. That being the case, no point of view, emotion, or instrumentation is off-limits for me. If I find an idea, memory, or emotion interesting enough to want to write about it, I just try to turn that into music in as clear and honest a way as possible. There have been cases where that's meant being very un-macho and putting a banjo player to work (both decidedly anti-hip hop notions, generally speaking).

I'm a big music fan. I have a massive record collection. And there's no kind of music I'm not interested in. We all fall under the influence of artists we admire and respect. I'm no different. I worship Bambaataa, Townes Van Zandt, Leonard Cohen, Captain Beefheart, Skip James, Johnny Cash, Iggy Pop, Radiohead, Jacques Brel, Serge Gainsbourg, David Lynch, Egon Shiele and countless others. But I try as hard as I can to carve out my own place confidently and leave those influences behind when putting the pen to paper or entering the studio or stepping onto stage (I can't claim to have been 100% successful in that so far...).

I don't think these ideas should make me special in any kind of way. But it seems that my path has taken me to a place I inhabit alone. This being the case, classification, understanding, and even finding an audience has been a challenge. But I don't do what I do for the sake of an audience. I don't make songs to make money or to become famous. I do this because I can't seem to help it. I've been doing this since I was a kid. For most of the years I've been doing this, I haven't had an audience. And I'll be doing this when I'm an old man (if I make it that far), even if there is no audience left. I can't explain what I get out of this (granted, making a living doing this is great and all...), but I know for sure that I need to do it.

I'm lucky enough to know many talented musicians and I work with people who can help me make good songs whenever possible. So far, that's run the gamut from some of the greatest turntablists ever (D-Styles, Skratch Bastid), to classically trained musicians (members of the Chicago Symphony, Gonzales, etc.), to gifted folk musicians from my own back yard (Old Man Luedecke, Al Tuck, etc.). It's always a question of what's best for the song (and who answers the phone).

So what do you call songs like Indestructible Sam, the French version of Devil's Eyes, Lil' Taste Of Poland or Kennedy Killed The Hat? I certainly don't know. I don't think they belong in the same genre together...Does it even make sense for one person to express themselves in such a wide spectrum of ways? Personally, I think it makes less sense to express oneself in the same way all the time. AndI know for a fact, from experience, that I'm no more complicated than anyone else.

So I guess what I'm saying is that I make music for myself. But if other people like it, that's wonderful and I appreciate the support and encouragement.

That's all.

Buck 65


continued (for nerds only)...

Since I first wrote the bio you see above, I've had a few epiphanies. I think these are important pieces of information to add. And I will continue to add to this bio as things continue to make sense to me.

First, it's important to consider where I come from to understand my 'music'. That's just common sense, really...

I've heard it said by elders who were dismissing 'weird' hip hop (like mine), while upholding the honor of the original spirit of New York City hip hop, that it was always CLUB music. I understand and appreciate this. It's undeniably obvious that most of the earliest hip hop records were essentially disco with rapping. It was dance music. Party music. And in those early days, the club and dances and parties were where the music came to life. So that whole culture was central to hip hop. And in many of the big cities, that's still true. A lot has changed in hip hop over the years, but some things have stayed the same. And one big thing is that the guys on top rule the club.

I grew up on a dirt road in a very isolated part of the world. In my town we had a post office, and that's about it. There was no club - not for miles around. And if you did travel to find a club (which I didn't), most of them (in my part of the world) probably weren't playing hip hop records.

Given the time and place, I figure I was among the first to be part of a new wave that was hidden for a long time, still isn't recognized widely, and may never be (I'd be very surprised to read a hip hop history book that talks about Anticon or even music from outside the USA)... the bedroom hip hopper.

There was no club. I was pretty much the only person in my hometown who was at all interested in hip hop. It made me an outsider. It made me the object of scorn at times. So for me, the domain was always the dark corner. It was music for weirdos. Being a hip hopper didn't make me popular - quite the opposite.

So, looking for music that I could relate to (all thinking people do this - others look for fantasy and escape-ism), I gravitated toward the stranger and darker stuff. I was looking for other weirdos with whom I could identify. I think that's why I always did and still do have an affinity for the instrumental and DJ driven side of hip hop. There aren't words to guide me somewhere I don't want to go. The first song that really made me lose my mind was 'Rockit' by Herbie Hancock and DST. When I listen to that song, there's some pretty weird stuff going on in my imagination. And it was always a plus for me that the video for the song was so bizarre as well...

Another area that's been a tricky area for me is credibility. Often in hip hop, there is talk of street credibility. I admit I'm empty handed in this area. Again, I grew up on a dirt road. So I've always interpreted it as a matter of authenticity and honesty. If you come from the streets and it's what you know, talk about it. If you don't, don't pretend that you do. I talk about where I come from and my own experiences. But what happens is that sometimes one gets the sense that the unwritten rule is that there's only one reality that matters in hip hop - and that's the street, or ghetto life, or what have you...

I can understand that, but only to a certain extent. Here's the problem: what about hip hop from Italy? From China? From Mali? Do kids in these parts of the world have the right to express themselves through hip hop? It's hard for me to swallow the idea that some people should not 'be allowed' to participate. But ask yourself why hip hop made outside the US almost never breaks on US soil. And if it does, what does it take?

When I hear rappers from Russia imitate New York rappers, I don't like it either. It's embarrassing. But when I hear Brazilian hip hop that uses traditional Brazilian sounds and the rappers are doing their thing in Portuguese, it's thrilling (to me). I think that's a greater victory for the artform than someone winning a Grammy or going platinum.

So again, I think authenticity is important. But having said that, if someone is truly gifted, but perhaps a little misguided, I think art should still be an open door for them...

In my opinion, hip hop is most vital and interesting in the other disciplines. Look at what's happening in DJing and b-boying or even graf. It's so much more international and (I think) so much richer for it.

Art. I believe in art. I guess there are people out there who think the only good painting is what has come out of the Netherlands and that's it. But most of us can agree that the idea is silly. I get excited about new ideas in art - building art, destroying art - no matter where it comes from. I can say the same about hip hop and this is certainly what motivates me.

I don't live on a dirt road anymore. I live in a big city. I have lived in many cities around the world and have spent time in many more. I'm not a kid anymore. I've had experiences and have learned a lot about music and art. Much of who I am and what I've become as an adult has come from books I've read. What does that mean in terms of my authenticity? Is there a place for all that in my work now? Is there something artistically invalid about applying something I learned in a book about a thinker/artist/musician from a distant time and place?

I've considered that this might be something of a Candian idea. The joke about Canadians is that we have no culture of our own. I appreciate the importance of a blues musician from West Texas keeping his regional traditions alive. But as I said in 'Blood of a Young Wolf', "I ain't got no culture, nothin'...". I just have a lens. A window. A mirror. A bookshelf. That's where I'm coming from. Take it or leave it...

More to come...

Another thought... Ever since I started making music and thinking at all about reaching some kind of audience, I've tried to find a "back door" (I'm still doing it). I have always had enough sense to know that I was never going to "make it" working any of the traditional channels. So what it has always come down to is trying to find a champion - an influential someone to fight for the cause of my ideas. I've found some fans in high places through the years. But I still haven't really found the champion for which I have always been hoping. Any and all champions were (and still are) welcome. But I've always had my secret and strategically chosen wish list. The first one I can remember having was Paper Magazine and specifically the founders of the magazine,  Kim Hastreister and David Hershkovits. I started buying the magazine right around the end of the '80's and always thought that it had it's finger the essence of something I identified with and wanted to be a part of. It's always been smart, artistically savvy, sexy and fun. It captured the best part of a city I loved because it was the city that gave birth to hip hop - I'm talking about New York of course (Paper can be perhaps most easily described as a New York City style guide with a real focus on the downtown scene). My favorite writer at the magazine was always Glen O'Brien who always seemed to have the most impeccable taste and was always surrounded by the most interesting people (I've had dreams at night of being a guest on his old cable show TV Party). The first time I ever went to New York, I found the address of Paper's HQ. I walked there and just stood outside for a long time. I had demo tapes in my pockets all ready to go, but I never got up the gumption to make my way inside. After a while, I just walked away. I've now had many moments in my life I look back on and wish I had've just done or said something. It was a huge thrill for me, years later, when Paper ran a little piece about me. I think it was a half page or so. It never turned into anything more. I never became one of those faces or names you see in the magazine on a regular basis. But I still dream about it a little, admittedly. By the time I found myself living in New York City back in 2004, my day-dream champion was the fashion designer Helmut Lang. One day I came out of my apartment on Lafayette Street and he was standing right there - right outside my door! I couldn't believe it. And guess what I did... Nothing. Again. We made eye contact. My brain exploded. I said nothing. I walked away. The same thing happened when I was younger and all my dreams were wrapped up in baseball. It's a great story, but a long one. I'll save it for another day. I still dream of champions and secretly choose new ones all the time. And I still find myself standing outside the door...