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Cincinnati's DJ Hi-Tek proves it on Hi-Teknology
By Kathy Y. Wilson
Decades after James Brown prowled Evanston hunting a parking space in front of King Records and the Isley Brothers took first place in every talent show in town, Hi-Tek stays holed up in his studio on West Eighth Street.
Hi-Teknology, his first solo joint, has been on the street only a matter of days, but word is it's flying off local record store shelves.
Last year's Reflection Eternal established Tek and duo-partner Talib Kweli as ones to watch -- the album debuted near the top of the Billboard album charts. They're the latest in a pack of conscious Hip Hoppers sick of the pervasive bling-bling mentality.
And as much ink as that release received for Kweli's staccato, rat-a-tat-tat rhyming skills, also noteworthy was Tek's way around the boards. Like a funkdafied, hunchbacked Martha Stewart in the garden, Tek lovingly lays the groundwork so the wordsmiths can cultivate verbal foliage. His style is subtle, and he makes smart choices much like DJ Premier, Pete Rock and Ali Shaheed Muhammad.
So, it seems, the work's been done. But there are more beats to bang and Hi-Tek isn't resting on his newborn laurels. He's working on tracks for Busta Rhymes, Snoop Dogg and Rahzel. Jonell, the languid Cincinnati vocalist with the Mary J. complex featured on Tek's CD, is also getting the Tek treatment.
Not bad for a Richmond Village kid who used to breakdance in talent shows at the old Regal Theatre.
"That's where I learned so much," Tek says about his early childhood. "That's where I got my soul from. I was 8. I was breakdancing, but we was trying to scratch, too. We used to have these talent shows, too. Back then, I knew I wanted to do music."
In fact, 25-year-old Tony Cottrell got the nickname Hi-Tek because, from an early age, his music-making skills were advanced. He went from breakdancing, many a DJ's early entrée into Hip Hop, to messing around with turntables to taking up residence in a studio at Beat Box Studios.
In the 1990s in Cincinnati, Hip Hop hadn't taken hold of heads as it had on the left and right coasts. But the music was there for those who found it.
And for Tek, it was Afrika Bambaataa and Planet Rock.
"When I first heard Planet Rock, that changed my life," he says. "Living downtown, it wasn't like we were rich. It was just fun."
Since the April 7 shooting death of Timothy Thomas by Cincinnati Police Officer Stephen Roach, there's been little fun about living downtown. Riots terrorized and polarized the city into curfews and press conferences.
Music is Tek's life, but his life is here in Cincinnati and none of the melee is lost on him.
"I didn't expect more," Tek says of the grand jury indictment of Roach on misdemeanor charges of negligent homicide and obstructing official business. "I already knew what they were going to do. We need more leadership. Cincinnati just tries to keep it looking clean. I think Cincinnati hides a lot of stuff."
(On the Rawkus Records Web site, Tek says of the "unrest": "The police seem to be killing a lot of young Black youth who are innocent. Last summer, my best friend was shot 19 times. I feel they murdered him and got away with it. Enough is enough! It's long overdue. I am not promoting the violence, but young black people are ready to explode. The people in Cincinnati have taken action ... police will think twice about shooting another brother.")
That's easy for Tek to say, fresh off a groundbreaking album and on the heels of a head-turning solo release thick with young Hip Hop stars. But what of his citymates from around the way who have no outlet for their anger and frustration?
"Find something that you like to do and stick with it," he offers. "Over time, you'll be good at it and you'll become a perfectionist. I've always loved music, but I was in the street, too. I did my street thing, but I came home and did my music, too."
And the world is glad he did.
Hi-Teknology is very necessary. It's nasty (with Slum Village on "L.T.A.H."), two-steppin' smooth (featuring Mos Def and Vinia Mojica on "Git to Steppin'"), accessible ("The Sun God" with Common and Vinia Mojica) and all-out funky (with Cincinnati's Mood on "Breakin' Bread" and "Suddenly").
It was Mood who turned Tek on to Kweli while Tek was engineering at Beat Box in 1995.
"Mood let me hear a couple of his demos," Tek says. "When I met him, I already had 100,000 beats. I just wanted to work with somebody different than just the average Cincinnati rapper."
That desire to work with the extraordinary is part young male bravado, part supreme self-confidence. Both are evident on the sounds of Hi-Teknology and in Hi-Tek's voice as he talks about the disc.
"I always knew I would stand out," he says "This is a dream come true, because I've been doing it for so long it had to happen. I was only worried about making the album quality so people would respect me."
Not to worry. Hi-Teknology will stand as a testament to closet DJs in Tek's hometown that there are possibilities. Tek is a secret no more. That is, for heads who already know, Hi-Teknology is the confirmation and they'll tell two friends and they'll tell two friends and so on and so on and so on.
Tek is nobody's sidekick and he's not jumping on bandwagons. He's already done battle with Rawkus, the label that released Reflection Eternal and Hi-Teknology. He says he financed half the solo album himself and paid guest rapper Common out of his own pocket. He says the label told him a cut with Snoop was "too big for the record."
"They don't know what to do with Tek, because they don't have Tek locked down," he says. "If Rawkus don't give me a solid situation for my future, I'm out. They can't keep treating me like a local, house producer."
Likewise, it's time the city that bore him recognizes what the world already knows.
"Cincinnati is definitely just now trying to wake up and show me love," Tek says. "They have this mentality that, if it's local, it ain't tight. I kinda look at it as they ain't really gonna play it unless you're doing something."
Regardless of what might be a reception like lukewarm bath water, Tek is always giving shouts to the 'Nati. Hailing from such an unlikely Hip Hop breeding ground serves him well.
"That helps me out a lot more 'cause it's something new," he says. "You come from Cincinnati it's like, damn, when was the last time you heard from somebody from Cincinnati besides Bootsy? The Funk came from out this way. Everywhere I go, I say, 'Cincinnati!' and 'Where my Cincinnati Reds at?'
"Even if I hate Cincinnati, I do it because Cincinnati ain't got nothin' and it needs to be rejuvenated. I'm just trying to bring it back. With the riots I think it helps to let people know black people ain't no suckers."
Cincinnati's DJ Hi-Tek proves it on Hi-Teknology
By Kathy Y. Wilson
Decades after James Brown prowled Evanston hunting a parking space in front of King Records and the Isley Brothers took first place in every talent show in town, Hi-Tek stays holed up in his studio on West Eighth Street.
Hi-Teknology, his first solo joint, has been on the street only a matter of days, but word is it's flying off local record store shelves.
Last year's Reflection Eternal established Tek and duo-partner Talib Kweli as ones to watch -- the album debuted near the top of the Billboard album charts. They're the latest in a pack of conscious Hip Hoppers sick of the pervasive bling-bling mentality.
And as much ink as that release received for Kweli's staccato, rat-a-tat-tat rhyming skills, also noteworthy was Tek's way around the boards. Like a funkdafied, hunchbacked Martha Stewart in the garden, Tek lovingly lays the groundwork so the wordsmiths can cultivate verbal foliage. His style is subtle, and he makes smart choices much like DJ Premier, Pete Rock and Ali Shaheed Muhammad.
So, it seems, the work's been done. But there are more beats to bang and Hi-Tek isn't resting on his newborn laurels. He's working on tracks for Busta Rhymes, Snoop Dogg and Rahzel. Jonell, the languid Cincinnati vocalist with the Mary J. complex featured on Tek's CD, is also getting the Tek treatment.
Not bad for a Richmond Village kid who used to breakdance in talent shows at the old Regal Theatre.
"That's where I learned so much," Tek says about his early childhood. "That's where I got my soul from. I was 8. I was breakdancing, but we was trying to scratch, too. We used to have these talent shows, too. Back then, I knew I wanted to do music."
In fact, 25-year-old Tony Cottrell got the nickname Hi-Tek because, from an early age, his music-making skills were advanced. He went from breakdancing, many a DJ's early entrée into Hip Hop, to messing around with turntables to taking up residence in a studio at Beat Box Studios.
In the 1990s in Cincinnati, Hip Hop hadn't taken hold of heads as it had on the left and right coasts. But the music was there for those who found it.
And for Tek, it was Afrika Bambaataa and Planet Rock.
"When I first heard Planet Rock, that changed my life," he says. "Living downtown, it wasn't like we were rich. It was just fun."
Since the April 7 shooting death of Timothy Thomas by Cincinnati Police Officer Stephen Roach, there's been little fun about living downtown. Riots terrorized and polarized the city into curfews and press conferences.
Music is Tek's life, but his life is here in Cincinnati and none of the melee is lost on him.
"I didn't expect more," Tek says of the grand jury indictment of Roach on misdemeanor charges of negligent homicide and obstructing official business. "I already knew what they were going to do. We need more leadership. Cincinnati just tries to keep it looking clean. I think Cincinnati hides a lot of stuff."
(On the Rawkus Records Web site, Tek says of the "unrest": "The police seem to be killing a lot of young Black youth who are innocent. Last summer, my best friend was shot 19 times. I feel they murdered him and got away with it. Enough is enough! It's long overdue. I am not promoting the violence, but young black people are ready to explode. The people in Cincinnati have taken action ... police will think twice about shooting another brother.")
That's easy for Tek to say, fresh off a groundbreaking album and on the heels of a head-turning solo release thick with young Hip Hop stars. But what of his citymates from around the way who have no outlet for their anger and frustration?
"Find something that you like to do and stick with it," he offers. "Over time, you'll be good at it and you'll become a perfectionist. I've always loved music, but I was in the street, too. I did my street thing, but I came home and did my music, too."
And the world is glad he did.
Hi-Teknology is very necessary. It's nasty (with Slum Village on "L.T.A.H."), two-steppin' smooth (featuring Mos Def and Vinia Mojica on "Git to Steppin'"), accessible ("The Sun God" with Common and Vinia Mojica) and all-out funky (with Cincinnati's Mood on "Breakin' Bread" and "Suddenly").
It was Mood who turned Tek on to Kweli while Tek was engineering at Beat Box in 1995.
"Mood let me hear a couple of his demos," Tek says. "When I met him, I already had 100,000 beats. I just wanted to work with somebody different than just the average Cincinnati rapper."
That desire to work with the extraordinary is part young male bravado, part supreme self-confidence. Both are evident on the sounds of Hi-Teknology and in Hi-Tek's voice as he talks about the disc.
"I always knew I would stand out," he says "This is a dream come true, because I've been doing it for so long it had to happen. I was only worried about making the album quality so people would respect me."
Not to worry. Hi-Teknology will stand as a testament to closet DJs in Tek's hometown that there are possibilities. Tek is a secret no more. That is, for heads who already know, Hi-Teknology is the confirmation and they'll tell two friends and they'll tell two friends and so on and so on and so on.
Tek is nobody's sidekick and he's not jumping on bandwagons. He's already done battle with Rawkus, the label that released Reflection Eternal and Hi-Teknology. He says he financed half the solo album himself and paid guest rapper Common out of his own pocket. He says the label told him a cut with Snoop was "too big for the record."
"They don't know what to do with Tek, because they don't have Tek locked down," he says. "If Rawkus don't give me a solid situation for my future, I'm out. They can't keep treating me like a local, house producer."
Likewise, it's time the city that bore him recognizes what the world already knows.
"Cincinnati is definitely just now trying to wake up and show me love," Tek says. "They have this mentality that, if it's local, it ain't tight. I kinda look at it as they ain't really gonna play it unless you're doing something."
Regardless of what might be a reception like lukewarm bath water, Tek is always giving shouts to the 'Nati. Hailing from such an unlikely Hip Hop breeding ground serves him well.
"That helps me out a lot more 'cause it's something new," he says. "You come from Cincinnati it's like, damn, when was the last time you heard from somebody from Cincinnati besides Bootsy? The Funk came from out this way. Everywhere I go, I say, 'Cincinnati!' and 'Where my Cincinnati Reds at?'
"Even if I hate Cincinnati, I do it because Cincinnati ain't got nothin' and it needs to be rejuvenated. I'm just trying to bring it back. With the riots I think it helps to let people know black people ain't no suckers."
