The Beastie Boys were my Beatles. My father would preach the gospel of the Fab 5 while me, too young to give a shit, wanted to wear baggy clothing and be MCA. You'd think I wanted to be Mike D due to the '4th letter in the alphabet' connection, but nope. Yauch was cooler to me.
MCA was no bullshit. The only one of the three that I would be afraid of. Yauch was my Lennon. Leave the bubblegum to McCartney. Here's the real shit.
"I can blow you away or you could ride with me." -MCA, Paul Revere
My world stopped when a friend of mine sent me a text, telling me MCA passed away. I've lost people. It's always a different reaction based on the closeness of the relationship. I've never met Adam Yauch, but it felt like I lost a family member. We never shook hands, or greeted each other, but I've spent hundreds of hours, over the course of 20 plus years, with him and the Beastie Boys in my headphones.
No offense to, but I wasn't one of those tweeting how they were going to spend their entire weekend listening to the Beastie Boys, in memory of MCA. I've been listening to them consistently since the late eighties. Not a week goes by that I don't have one craving to listen to a Beastie Boys song.
I knew I had to create something for him. I didn't want to record the typical tribute song. MCA wasn't typical and deserves better. I wanted to take it back to my childhood. The childhood they had impacted so heavily. I wanted to take it back to me, rapping Pass The Mic in a comb in front of a mirror in my bedroom, hat backwards, in my father's work jacket. These were the moments that drove me to become an artist. And MCA helped me steer.
Thank you, Adam.