From 1999 to 2010 a lot of music discovery was lost. Napster created massive holes in the industry and forced a shift in how music consumption happened. In the 90s I would hit small mom and pop shops and friends would wait in line to get signed copies of albums dropping from artists who toured to support the music. Radio stations had local music programming and for Hip-Hop heads, BET served as a funnel for popular artists. Around 99, when dial-up and NetZero accounts flourished message boards took off allowing for digital communities to sprout.
At the start of the new millennium, CD burners in computers allowed music fans to curate collections of underground tapes and songs. Napster, and later LimeWire, made file sharing feel like a victimless crime. Instead of browsing shelves I downloaded so much music I had a CD case of gold and silver shining discs with generic titles like “love music, cruising music, hip-hop #1”. Friends were giving me albums I probably wouldn’t have bought. I was starting to get older and graduating from college meant that music no longer connected me to moments in the same way.
In 2004, I was finishing grad school and earning my first job as a college professor. I was relocating. I was lurking on message boards from NikeTalk to Okayplayer and AALBC. I was one part ex-college hooper, basketball coach and educator. Music was becoming lost. We had a kid and I tried to squeeze in discovery on rides to work, but I had to order CDs and that was never as easy as just buying them from Tower. By the mid 2000s I got my music from Chappelle Show and watching Austin City Limits on Saturday nights. Rap City wasn’t what it was and I felt too old to sit and watch 106 and Park, although I wasn’t.
I owned every Roots album and glossed over Slum Village. Kanye became the most prominent emcee and to be honest I never heard of Little Brother. The family moved from San Diego to Memphis. Rick Ross and 3 Six Mafia got more play than the backpack music of my college days. I still had a crazy collection of CDs with Mos Def, Talib and Pharoahe Monch, but I was also trying to run a business. By the time I caught up with Little Brother it was in the form of the album Connected from Foreign Exchange. It was also almost five years after the release.
But it was perfect timing because I discovered FE+ and tracked Phonte and Nicolay from 2010 until now. By the time I was able to catch FE in live shows, I was a huge fan of Phonte, but I had to go back in time and discover Little Brother. Fast forward to the last five years and The Listening and The Minstrel Show entered my digital rotation. I’m in the car a lot more and music discovery happens via music service providers. My music playlists are diversified and while music isn’t aligned with moments anymore, streaming has provided me with a chance to hear things I would have never learned about.
Today I act like I was rocking with Little Brother from the start. I did hear tracks on Music Choice back in the early 2ks, but that doesn’t count. I lurked on OKP and never created an account. I missed moments I can never recapture in music, but after watching the documentary on the group, gaps in my music history of Foreign Exchange have been filled.
I think Hip-Hop is in its Motown 25 phase. Those of us raised in the culture are in our 40s and 50s. The artists are in their 60s. We’re losing our heroes from what we once considered old people illnesses: Phife to Diabetes, Sean Price dying in his sleep, MF Doom and Biz Markie having potential Covid related deaths… Trugoy died of heart failure. Hip-Hop is aging and the stories are beginning to be told.
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I had only heard of Little Brother in passing at the height of the group’s popularity. When the album “May the Lord Watch” hit number 1 on Apple music, I knew so much more about the crew. While they didn’t touch on the transition in the documentary, at the root of their inability to become as popular as even Slum Village was the shift in music discovery. Burning CDs, the introduction of the iPod and iPhone, the rise of DSPs, the death of music video channels and eventual cutting of the cord, the growth of social media, the fractured, diminished attention span of music listeners… Little Brother never had a chance. Until they matured. That’s what this documentary is about and it’s a beautifully crafted journey and introduction.
Support the filmmakers by donating directly at https://littlebrothernc.com.
Directed by Holland Randolph Gallagher Produced by @RapPortraits & Little Brother Written by Yoh Phillips & Holland Randolph Gallagher Co-produced by Shirlette Ammons & Felicia Pride With support from the Southern Documentary Fund
May the Lord Watch is the definitive story of Little Brother, the North Carolina rap group composed of rappers Phonte, Big Pooh, and (formerly) producer 9th Wonder, the underground legends that bridged the gap between The Roots and Kendrick, Tribe and Cole, De La and Drake. The film follows the rise, breakup, and reunion of the preeminent 2000s rap group, but the heart of the documentary lies in the unfolding relationship between members Phonte and Big Pooh, which begins at the Durham HBCU North Carolina Central University, strains while coming of age together in the music industry, and resolves with an enduring friendship as the two men reunite and make their 2019 album May the Lord Watch.
Press Inquiries: andre@emgpresents.com https://littlebrothernc.com https://www.rapportraits.com