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Call it a comeback

Music Features

Talk the talk

"It’s the second time that day someone has used 'worst ever' to describe my rapping."

Before describing the hip-hop boot camp I went through to train for this event, I’ll answer some questions I was asked by the post-collegiate Caucasians I told about it. What exactly is a rap battle, or an MC battle? It’s a traditional rite of passage in which two rappers face off — whether in the street or in a club — with the sole aim of demoralizing each other using improvisational — or freestyle, as the kids say — lyrics. How does one win a battle? Much as in electoral politics, you bury an opponent by exposing him as gay, weak, fraudulent, or, preferably, all three. And finally: By “battle,” do you mean like that scene in 8 Mile? Sort of, but Eminem’s rhymes in 8 Mile were scripted and therefore not freestyle. The Harpers event would be judged by a knowledgeable crew: former star battle rapper Jake the Snake, producers J-Hunt, Stu Bangas, and Matty Trump, and Leedz Edutainment in-house photographer Sam “Sly” Young.

Before this endeavor, my own freestyle experience was limited to rhyming among friends during late-night blunt sessions. In high school and college, I was always the kid who could rap, but only in the way that a kid at Newton North whose parents net an annual $1.2 million is the poor kid. Lately, my freestyling has been limited to occasional Friday-night blackouts. I had some serious practicing to do, so one week before the big dance I ripped my favorite instrumentals — from “Still D.R.E.” to “Nas Is Like” — to my iPod for the gym, car, and crib. I rapped in traffic, in the shower, at my desk, and, to the amusement of many at my health club, on the Stairmaster. I ordered Burger King drive-through in near-Shakespearean end-rhyme couplets. After two days, I was able to recap my day’s activities and communicate Law & Order story lines in raps.

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