For the first two weeks of July, our city played host to the Brighton Hip-Hop Festival 2007, which according to the organisers is "the UK's largest celebration of Hip Hop Culture", and "recognised as a must attend event for all Hip Hop enthusiasts across the globe". Now, don't let the fact that I’m white, in my thirties, and have a secret love of Take That fool you - in reality I'm totally street, down with the kids, and very much from the ghetto. Well I’ve certainly been called phat a few times anyway. So with that in mind I was naturally keen to get involved. It all sounded quite jolly.
Unfortunately I struggled to find any events that would have me. Throughout the entire fortnight the BHHF were holding free workshops in conjunction with a group of trendy music teachers called AudioActive2 at Brighton Youth Centre, which is only just down the road in Edward Street. One night there was the chance to learn beatboxing (which I think is some kind of martial art) with a tutor called BadFunk, while later in the week they held breakdancing classes taught by a chap named Ill Boogz. He doesn't sound at all well.
By the end of the festival I fully intended to be a beatboxing, breakdancing hip-hop dynamo, but oh no, because as it turned out, classes were only open to 13-19 year olds. I was fifteen years too late. Personally I think it's an outrage. Why am I not allowed to learn gangsta rap and perform some crunk with the rest of the phat people?
All was not lost though. Despite my advanced years, I was permitted to go and look at "an enormous wooden box" which had been erected outside the Brighton Central Library, and was being “painted by some of Brighton's and the UK's most exciting graffiti, stencil and street artists". I used to like stencilling when I was little, so I went along, hoping to get involved in some finger painting.
Entitled ‘Frieze Box’, the large wooden structure was described in the leaflet which was thrust into my hand by a young man (possibly from the ghetto) as "a living, evolving and constantly changing installation". And they weren't wrong. As one chap was busy painting an iron man on one side of the box, another was merrily erasing it with a bucket of Tipp-Ex and a roller. It’s a good job I got there when I did. Another five minutes and the iron man would have been as white as a sheet.
The main event of week one was the ‘Battle Jam’, which was not, as its name might suggest, a competition held by the WI. At least I don’t think so. The programme described it as a celebration of popping, locking and breaking, so frankly I’m none the wiser.
I was however looking forward to the final event: The BHHF Live Day. Scheduled for July 14th at the Level, it promised to be a free all-day feast of hip-hop fun, hosted by “UK b-girl and krumping queen, Kymberlee Jay”, who sounds like the kind of girl I’d like to meet, and featuring acts like Phat Kev & The Beat Cleavers.
Unfortunately, just weeks before the festival was due to begin, the organisers had their funding cut, and despite frantic fundraising efforts and a campaign to ‘Save the BHHF’, festival director Indy Hunjan announced the cancellation of Live Day less than a week into the event. It was a real shame. I might not understand a lot of the lingo, but a free music festival full of people who are proud to be phat, sounded right up my street. Roll on 2008.
