THE LEGEND OF WHITEY McCHALKSKINBy Richard Cheswick
Article reproduced exactly as originally printed in Music Journal Today in March, 2011. 
Whitey McChalkskin today, dressed to ill.
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Perhaps you remember his dance moves from The Boy Heat Boyz, his 1990's boy band. |
I'm waiting for him in a strip club in West Hollywood. He chose the location for this meeting, and even though I'm no prude, I can't help but feel like I need to take a shower just sitting in this scotch-tape stitched booth. I've been kept waiting for nearly an hour, gently refusing the kind advances of the aging and possibly pregnant dancers the facilities keep on tap on a Tuesday morning. I nurse my mystery drink and muse to myself about the possible futility of my being here.
After all, even at his height in the mid nineties, Whitey McChalkskin was notorious about never giving interviews, doing press junkets, or even taking pictures with his fans. He's a private individual that has quite the reputation for punching gawkers and peeing on paparazzi from Parisian balconies. Truth is that we don't know a lot about the man behind the polished public persona. All this British journalist knows is that Mr. McChalkskin comes from very good gentry and was labeled the "bad boy" of The Boy Heat Boyz.
So I sit nervously in a corner, sip my drink, and watch a woman sadly dance upon a pole, and I remind myself that it was Whitey who invited me here and not the other way around.
Little did I know, his arrival proceeded my own by hours. When I first came in, I had heard a ruckus coming from the champagne room, but I had attributed that to some kind of dispute taking place backstage. Perhaps a pimp or drug dealer had become enraged with someone behind the scenes. What I failed to realize was that the club's top talent had come to work the previous night, and they were still there.
When they finally realized why I was there, I was immediately ushered into the biggest party I've ever been invited to. A hand reached out from within a mountain of beautiful women and waved me over. On the pinky was a ring with a blinged out dollar sign. The arm was emblazoned with fine blond hairs. Seconds later the girls began to file away, and a huge grinning moon of a face winked at me.
"Dick!" the man shouted, as if he had intimately known me my whole life. "I thought you weren't coming until tomorrow morning."
I indicate my watch and reply, "It is tomorrow morning."
It's hard to believe this man sitting before me is Whitey McChalkskin, and it's really hard to believe that he's in his thirties. But perhaps it's time's marching clock that has driven him to take such drastic action.
"Call me M.C. Chalkskin," he says, correcting me at least a dozen times during the interview. He has gone about changing his style and character so dramatically that I have trouble keeping focused on my questions. Here he is, bespangled in the colors of Old Glory and gushing on about how he's going to take the world by storm as a rapper.
"I want to turn the genre on it's ear, knowwhatI'msayin'? And not just rap neither. I want to blend hip hop with country and metal and rhythm and blues. I want to redefine what's possible in the music world, yo."
I had heard the rumors, but I'm so flabbergasted by what I'm seeing and hearing that the whole conversation was basically a bust. Luckily, Whi - er. . . M.C. Chalkskin invited me both to the studio and his music video set. There, I am introduced to "the crew" the new emcee "rolls wit'."
Darius Limner Jackson, also known as D.J. Pop'N'Fresh, is a boyhood friend of M.C. Chalkskin's. While Whitey grew up in the wealthy parts of Orange County, California, Darius came up in a rough end of South Watts. The two met at a hip hop festival back in 1985 and quickly bonded over their love of the music. During their formative years, the two would visit one another and record songs on a tape deck. Pop'N'Fresh assures me that this seemingly random new vision from McChalkskin has grown from those seeds.
"Whitey's always been a hip hop head," Darius says in a guttural voice that I'm certain will enliven his tracks with hard energy. "That goes without question. It's not an issue. Unless you're makin' it an issue." He leans in, getting right in my face the way I'd imagine he would a young recruit when he was a sergeant in the Marine Corps. "Are you makin' it an issue?"
I slowly shake my head and back away.
Two others that I meet while visiting the production are Rich Prophet and J-Man, two guest emcees on the album. When I am first introduced to them, I am surprised to hear them in a conversation that seems very un-rap to my ears. They are loudly arguing over which is the better franchise between "Star Wars" and "Star Trek." Chalkskin gets in the middle, breaks it up, and tells them to "play nice" with me.
J-Man goes into an endless description of the type of music they are hoping to make. Most of it seems like mixed metaphors, windy anecdotes, and meaningless hyperbole, but I am able to get one quote of note on record. "The era of Chalkskin is at hand."
That's about the time when Rich Prophet puts a finger to J-Man's lips and shushes him. "Look, they got me on this thing, so you know it's going to be Rich Prophet good."
When I finally leave for the day, I find myself in a stunned silence only made worse by the voluminous amounts of forty ounce liquors forced upon me.
I guess we'll have to wait until April 1st to find out if this is just an elaborate April Fool's prank or a true turning point in Whitey McChalkskin's career. That's the date that M.C. Chalkskin says he's going to release his first rap album, "Fresh Donuts."
After all, even at his height in the mid nineties, Whitey McChalkskin was notorious about never giving interviews, doing press junkets, or even taking pictures with his fans. He's a private individual that has quite the reputation for punching gawkers and peeing on paparazzi from Parisian balconies. Truth is that we don't know a lot about the man behind the polished public persona. All this British journalist knows is that Mr. McChalkskin comes from very good gentry and was labeled the "bad boy" of The Boy Heat Boyz.
So I sit nervously in a corner, sip my drink, and watch a woman sadly dance upon a pole, and I remind myself that it was Whitey who invited me here and not the other way around.
Little did I know, his arrival proceeded my own by hours. When I first came in, I had heard a ruckus coming from the champagne room, but I had attributed that to some kind of dispute taking place backstage. Perhaps a pimp or drug dealer had become enraged with someone behind the scenes. What I failed to realize was that the club's top talent had come to work the previous night, and they were still there.
When they finally realized why I was there, I was immediately ushered into the biggest party I've ever been invited to. A hand reached out from within a mountain of beautiful women and waved me over. On the pinky was a ring with a blinged out dollar sign. The arm was emblazoned with fine blond hairs. Seconds later the girls began to file away, and a huge grinning moon of a face winked at me.
"Dick!" the man shouted, as if he had intimately known me my whole life. "I thought you weren't coming until tomorrow morning."
I indicate my watch and reply, "It is tomorrow morning."
It's hard to believe this man sitting before me is Whitey McChalkskin, and it's really hard to believe that he's in his thirties. But perhaps it's time's marching clock that has driven him to take such drastic action.
"Call me M.C. Chalkskin," he says, correcting me at least a dozen times during the interview. He has gone about changing his style and character so dramatically that I have trouble keeping focused on my questions. Here he is, bespangled in the colors of Old Glory and gushing on about how he's going to take the world by storm as a rapper.
"I want to turn the genre on it's ear, knowwhatI'msayin'? And not just rap neither. I want to blend hip hop with country and metal and rhythm and blues. I want to redefine what's possible in the music world, yo."
I had heard the rumors, but I'm so flabbergasted by what I'm seeing and hearing that the whole conversation was basically a bust. Luckily, Whi - er. . . M.C. Chalkskin invited me both to the studio and his music video set. There, I am introduced to "the crew" the new emcee "rolls wit'."
Darius Limner Jackson, also known as D.J. Pop'N'Fresh, is a boyhood friend of M.C. Chalkskin's. While Whitey grew up in the wealthy parts of Orange County, California, Darius came up in a rough end of South Watts. The two met at a hip hop festival back in 1985 and quickly bonded over their love of the music. During their formative years, the two would visit one another and record songs on a tape deck. Pop'N'Fresh assures me that this seemingly random new vision from McChalkskin has grown from those seeds.
"Whitey's always been a hip hop head," Darius says in a guttural voice that I'm certain will enliven his tracks with hard energy. "That goes without question. It's not an issue. Unless you're makin' it an issue." He leans in, getting right in my face the way I'd imagine he would a young recruit when he was a sergeant in the Marine Corps. "Are you makin' it an issue?"
I slowly shake my head and back away.
Two others that I meet while visiting the production are Rich Prophet and J-Man, two guest emcees on the album. When I am first introduced to them, I am surprised to hear them in a conversation that seems very un-rap to my ears. They are loudly arguing over which is the better franchise between "Star Wars" and "Star Trek." Chalkskin gets in the middle, breaks it up, and tells them to "play nice" with me.
J-Man goes into an endless description of the type of music they are hoping to make. Most of it seems like mixed metaphors, windy anecdotes, and meaningless hyperbole, but I am able to get one quote of note on record. "The era of Chalkskin is at hand."
That's about the time when Rich Prophet puts a finger to J-Man's lips and shushes him. "Look, they got me on this thing, so you know it's going to be Rich Prophet good."
When I finally leave for the day, I find myself in a stunned silence only made worse by the voluminous amounts of forty ounce liquors forced upon me.
I guess we'll have to wait until April 1st to find out if this is just an elaborate April Fool's prank or a true turning point in Whitey McChalkskin's career. That's the date that M.C. Chalkskin says he's going to release his first rap album, "Fresh Donuts."
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