Byron Barrett

Who is this guy? Well, the story goes that in the capital city of a state littered with cornfields, there
lived a boy. Not unlike most boys, our boy is curious, but he ain't chasing grasshoppers-he's
chasing sounds. His dad's in the service, so our military brat gives chase all over: Kentucky, Cali,
Germany; soaking up each areas nuances and keeping them as playmates. He's climbing gospel
hymns and jumping into melodies. And he wants to know 'why?' Why does that sound sneak out
of the organ, why did that bass groove move his stomach, why does a shrieking Prince sound so
good? He sets out for real answers because "It just does, boy" just won't do. Now the earth keeps
spinning and time hurries along, adding size to our boy. Now he's experimenting with guitars and
keyboards, arranging sounds-so I guess you could call him a producer. He's crushing rhyme
schemes 'I grew up eating lyrics, that's how I got nutrients', he muses-so I guess you could call
him an emcee...MC such-and-such. The titles don't seem to fit our guy, though-too tight in the
shoulders, a little short in sleeves, and the questions persist. Why can't he dig Sinatra as much
as Biggie? He doesn't like our answer, so he leaves. He's rocking it out on stage, he's in his
studio composing big band tunes, he's...acting? So I guess you could call him a jack-of-all-trades.
He's home now, and fortunately he never stopped asking 'why', and that curiosity has given
birth to fearless exploration-hip hop fusion-it ain't a thing, it's a place. Where superior emceeing
and expansively cool arranging collide with 'why not?' The kind of endeavor that's self-possessed
not self-absorbed. Once upon a time, great lyrical command and FUN existed within the same
emcee. When a guy can make us remember that...I guess we should call him Byron Barrett.