By Brian Turk
By Drew AIles
By Taylor Boylston
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"Hip-hop has always been my favorite music," Merriman says, with a youthful enthusiasm that's as evident in conversation as it is on the airwaves. "About 1995, I became an official member of the culture, when it took over my consciousness. When I woke up, hip-hop turned on, and it didn't turn off until I went to bed, whether in my head or on my stereo.
"People have a lot of misconceptions about hip-hop," he adds. "They think that in order to create or understand hip-hop music, you have to be living in a poor mental state, or that you really don't want to look at any higher vision, whether through spirituality or morals or ethics, that you don't see enlightenment for humans as a possibility, that you're out for instant gratification and running around town in a bulletproof jacket, doing drugs and shooting people."
It's those kinds of sentiments that Merriman (known on-air as "Adict") and his partner, Colorado Institute of Art student Nate Harvey (DJ Resonant), seek to counter on Basementalism -- a show that's dedicated to exposing a range of local DJs and MCs and national members of the hip-hop underground, and to upping the cultural literacy of those on the Front Range and beyond.
The show began on an FM cable station under the direction of CU student Luke Stertz, known to those who plugged in during the early days as DJ Infinity. Merriman took over when Stertz graduated, in May of 1998, and the program joined the weekly show roster when a new-and-improved Radio 1190 took the airwaves with increased funding and wattage last November. Harvey, an MC and DJ with local outfit the Procussions, joined Merriman as co-host a few months later. For the pair, hip-hop -- real hip-hop, not gangsta posturing or commercial puffiness -- is more than a genre of music. It's a culture, and those who wish to join must first understand its customs. To that end, the duo has molded the show into a format that's familiar to the university-dwelling listeners who make up the bulk of its audience: It's Hip-Hop 101, with professors Adict and Resonant controlling the dials and providing the reference materials. Amid live performances, interviews with artists and spins of recorded tracks, the pair offers mini-lectures on the diversity and philosophy of hip-hop and lessons in its four noble truths: emceeing, deejaying, breakdancing and painting graffiti. The show is currently in the midst in a four-week mini-series of broadcasts that address each of these points individually; the recent DJ program, for example, featured samples of turntable magic from the Beat Junkies, interviews with artists such as British wizard DJ Shadow, and a remedial, "do-it-yourself" rundown of what's involved in the craft.
"There are so many elements to hip-hop," Merriman says. "Last night I was at the [CU] rec center, and there were five guys breakdancing in a room. Sure, they're not making music, but they were working on expression. That's hip-hop. It's a discipline, and that's what separates hip-hop from rap. Hip-hop goes with you everywhere."
The two are also history teachers: While they've provided students (and an increasingly high number of non-student fans) with what may be their first exposure to modern underground artists like Jurassic 5, Ugly Duckling and the Pharoahe Monch, as well as local up-and-comers like the collective Apotheosis Wisdom and turntablist DJ Vasra, they also spin tracks from the Eighties, that golden age of hip-hop, the era of Grandmaster Flash, parachute pants and clock-medallion necklaces.
"So many people that are into hip-hop are young, and they don't know about the old school, including myself," says Merriman. "When people say that old school sucks, that's saying hip-hop sucks, because that's where it came from. Everyone who knows about rock knows about Jimi Hendrix. People who are into punk know about the original punk bands. So on our show, we sort of take people through all of the elements of hip-hop, so they can know, well, what is breakdancing? Where did it come from? What does it mean to be an MC?"
Basementalism is the show Merriman and Harvey wish they'd had access to as youths growing up in Colorado Springs, a city with about as much street cred as Tiny Town.
"We didn't have any scene in Colorado Springs whatsoever," Merriman says, adding that his passion was initially fueled by vehicles such as Source magazine, MTV and breaker movies of the Eighties. "I wish I'd had something like this [show] when I was fourteen or fifteen, because then I would have had an earlier awareness that there are all these different areas of hip-hop. People don't realize that. If someone says, 'I don't like the lyricism' or 'I don't like the rap,' I tell them, fine -- there's so much more you can get into and interact with. This is a very participation-intensive culture; hip-hop can happen in your room, or you can take it to another level by writing lyrics, then maybe performing them."