Tnoc

Connecticut hip hop m.c./producer Tnoc releases highly anticipated solo debut album "Lyricism 101."
Connecticut hip hop m.c./producer Tnoc releases highly anticipated solo debut album "Lyricism 101." Tnoc first began performing under alias the Tommyknocker in 2001 with then group the Collective. This was a drum and bass quartet consisting of 2 dj's and 2 mc's. He has performed at many venues throughout Fairfield, New Haven, and Hartford counties, and Massachusetts.

(PRWEB) December 27 2003--Connecticut hip hop m.c./producer Tnoc releases highly anticipated solo debut album "Lyricism 101." The cd is a unique blend of abstract, psychedelic, beats with deep metaphors and complex rhyme patterns. Tnoc's creepy, spacy, sound is slowly spreading like a disease throughout Connecticut and beyond.

Tnoc first began performing under alias The Tommyknocker in 2001 with then group The Collective. This was a drum and bass quartet consisting of 2 dj's and 2 mc's. They have performed at many venues throughout Fairfield, New Haven, and Hartford counties, and Massachusetts. This includes a several month drum and bass/breakbeat weekly the group ran at The Blues Cafe in New Haven, CT.

Eventually The Collective dispersed and went their seperate ways. Tnoc went on to return to his hip hop roots that first influenced him into writing at the age of 13. Now here in 2003 he has started his own record label, Abstract Traxx; and has self released his own album. It is currently available online at many different sites to purchase the actual album or purchase digital downloads of the music. It is also currently available at Spiritual Emporium Records, 493 Main St. Hartford, CT 06103 860.524.9719.

Tnoc currently has no tour dates scheduled. He is planning a few record release parties for early to mid 2004. Tnoc is available for live performances- contact bookings@abstracttraxx.com or call (203) 380-9627.

Available at: www.cdbaby.com
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www.cdnow.com
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for more info- www.abstracttraxx.com





- PR WEB, December 29, 2003

Tnoc featured in NY Times 5/23/05


New York Times - Sunday May 23, 2005

OLD SCHOOL HIP-HOP THRIVES IN DANBURY

By Thomas Staudter

It was just before 11 p.m. on a recent saturday night and people were pressed together at the front of the stage at the Monkey Bar in Danbury when Cee Reed , a popular MC in the local hip hop scene, picked up the microphone and blared "Can you hear me Connecticut?"

More so so than ever it seems.

Homegrown hip hop in connecticut is growing in presence, and although it hardly rivals the major urban centers around around the country where the music first flourished, increasing numbers of artists from the area are getting serious and getting noticed. At some clubs, there are already hip hop shows and open mic nights. At the Monkey Bar, the ocasion was the "CT Hip Hop Summit" and it brought out a half dozen if the areas top acts and 100's of fans to this small nightclub annex of Tuxedo Junction,
a larger club next door.

Unlike some contemporary rap and hip hop lyrics, which glorify violence, materialism and sexual promiscuity, the Connecticut scene is aligned with a movement referred to as "underground" or "old school" where storytelling and self-expression, not repetitive verbal hooks, are the norm, said Jevon Adams, 29 an MC from Bridgeport, who performs as C-Boogie. His musical partner, Danny Williams, 30, also of Bridgeport and known as DJ Segue, added: "We're going for a more soulful take
on street rap and focusing on reality. But it's our own sound"

At the Monkey Bar, grilled hamburgers were served at no charge on a porch to a crowd made up mostly of young adults in their early 20's.

Rich Franzino, owner of the Acoustic Cafe in Bridgeport, usually presents folk singer-songwriters. Wanting to encourage "all kinds of new young artists," Mr. Franzino, 51, of Fairfield, last year brought in Nervous System, a trio of M.C.'s with a substantial following around the state. He said the group's raps "shared a common thread with protest music."

In January, Mr. Franzino opened up his club to a monthly event, "The Flow," an open mike for established and promising hip-hop M.C.'s. The hosts are Pedro Vazquez, 23, from Nervous System, and Meredith DiMenna, 31, a singer-musician and a founder of Exotic Recordings, a production company and music label heavily involved in the local hip-hop scene.

New local music scenes arise organically from fan bases, and so it is here in Connecticut.

"A lot of us grew up just as hip-hop was starting to get big, which is why it is such a big influence on our lives," said Mr. Adams, the Bridgeport M.C. "But music from artists like Michael Jackson, Sting, and Sade was popular back then, too. Around here, we embrace it all."

Trippopotamus, a five-piece group based in Danbury and fronted by two saxophone-playing M.C.'s - Joshua DeBonis, 26, and Jesse Gugliotta, 27 - takes the idea of incorporating musical influences into the realm of jazz. Both M.C.'s studied jazz while at Western Connecticut State University. Their set at the Monkey Bar event was full of driving funk grooves and spiced with political messages. Mr. DeBonis' parents were in attendance, and he prefaced one song, "Trouble," with a disclaimer that is would probably upset his father.

A healthy spirit of cooperation among many of the M.C.'s and musicians working in the hip-hop scene around Connecticut has produced a strong enough regional identity musicially that is close to being recognizable across the country, said Mr. Williams, who works with Mr. Adams.

The Nillaz, led by two 25-year-old Stamford M.C.'s - Ryan Conway, also know as JaVa, and Illan Cohen - may become the first Connecticut hip-hop group to achieve nationwide popularity. Formerly known as Northeastshore, or NES, the five-member group has parlayed a mix of hip-hop and fast-paced funk guitar playing into an invitation to join the Vans Warped Tour this summer as one of the side stage acts, where they may play to some crowds of over 25,000 people, said their manager, Matt Hanrahan.

Near the end of the Monkey Bar summit, at close to 1 a.m., Mr. Vazquez, who performs as Eclipse, and the two other Nervous System M.C.'s - Polarity Plus and Sol Storm - walked on stage for their set. Those on the porch smoking cigarettes and eating hamburgers huried in to catch the music.

Last year, Nervous System recorded its first album, "Controlled Substance", with the help of Ms. DiMenna and her Exoctic Recordings partner Keith Saunders, a 31-year-old multi-instrumentalist formally with NES. Some of the tracks from the album, which reached No. 28 on the CMJ Hip-Hop Chart back in November, have even garnered nationwide radio airplay.

Hip-hop, of course, has plenty of drama and tension; in the past month Nervous System has severed its relations with Ms. DiMenna and Mr. Saunders because of business differences, with some of the bitterness spilling on to various Internet sites.

Mr. Vazquez, a serious rapper for the past four years, brushed off the issue a few weeks ago while talking to a reporter at Degaon's Millenium, the Bridgeport clothing store where he works.

"The only thing that matters is the music," he said. "That's my only drug. I love the attention and the people applauding me. I'm giving myself until I'm 30 to know whether I should continue in music or go back to school."

THE SUMMER SOUND

Nervous System is made up of three energetic M.C.'s: Pedro Vazquez, whose stage name is Eclipse, Philip Davis, 29, of Norwalk, who goes by Polarity Plus, and Linette Solano, 23, of Bridgeport, who performs under the name Sol Storm. The group offers brutally honest observations from the war between the sexes and of street life. Formed five years ago, their onstage dynamics sizzle. Their first album is due out this month.

Cee Reed first began performing three years ago. His first release, "The Invitation," came out in December. After performing and recording with Workforce, a group led by a D.J., Eric Basriel, he has resumed his solo career, and is finishing up his first full-length CD.

Tnoc, a 24-year-old M.C. from Stratford known more formally as Tom McLoughlin, independently released his first hip-hop album, "Lyricism 101", in October 2003. He often works with another M.C., Erockimus from a group called the Microdahts. He is also active in the drum-and-bass scene.

Trippopotamus is a five-member group whose jazz origins are evident in their current songs. Joshua DeBonis and Jesse Gugliotta, two M.C.'s who also play the saxophone, and Andrew Dapkin, a guitarist, Kenny Owens, a drummer, and Chris DeAngelis, have released only a demo, but their raucuus shows have won them acclaim.
- New York Times

Its rap music, break dancing and fashion shapes America’s cultural landscape
Jim Shelton, Register Staff01/16/2005
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Hip-hop is the soundtrack of the new American dream.

It’s a poetry, a look, a lifestyle — and after 30 years, its reach extends from the poorest streets to the toniest zones. Few musical movements have been as durable, as tenacious, or as consistently controversial.


"It started with nothing and made something of itself," says Michael Parker, a 19-year-old hip-hop writer and performer in New Haven. "More people are absorbing it into their life every day. It’s a way for people to rise."

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"It’s not just music; it’s a way of life," explains Angela Fraiser, 17, of New Haven, who has written hip-hop poetry and acted in hip-hop plays. "The way we dress, talk and walk. It’s a culture."

Meanwhile, hip-hop’s critics have their own rap on the art form: profane lyrics, sexually suggestive videos, gangster violence and messages degrading to women.

Yet there’s no denying the form’s reach and power.

In 2004, fully 60 percent of radio’s top 100 songs were hip-hop, according to Nielsen BDS. Various estimates have declared hip-hop a $5 billion industry, including CDs, clothing, DVDs and concerts.

"Hip-hop has its own language, with different dialects," says Wayne "Blazebeat" Brown, 24, who is CEO of FAM Entertainment in Hamden. "It’s the variation of hip-hop that’s important. The evolution."

The genre even had its first national political convention in the past year, attracting some 2,000 delegates, not to mention the much-publicized, "Vote or Die," campaign to register new voters.

"This is rap time. It’s gonna be around another 30 years, too," notes Tony Pearson of New Haven, host of the local hip-hop cable access show, "Holla Back."

Pearson, aka "Mr. Magic," was one of the state’s first successful hip-hop performers, back in the late 1970s. "It was a whole new language coming out of that music and lyrics," he recalls.

Hip-hop grew out of house parties and gatherings in the Bronx in the mid-1970s. Originators such as Afrika Bambaataa enlisted the buoyancy and spontaneity of rap as a peaceful, creative wedge against gang violence.

Hip-hop came to mean rap music, break dancing and graffiti art. It spread through inner-city New York and beyond. The Sugarhill Gang released the first successful, commercial rap song, "Rapper’s Delight," in 1979. The following year, Kurtis Blow’s single, "The Breaks," became the first hip-hop song to sell half a million copies.

"I was DJing a party on Hudson Street when someone gave me a Kurtis Blow song to listen to on the headphones," Pearson recalls. "I said, ‘Hold onto that record.’ When I put that cut on later, the place went berserk. It was the most incredible thing you ever heard."

‘EXPLAINING THE WORLD’

A generation later, kids across the country are jotting down rhymes in notebooks every day and honing their hip-hop skills in home recording studios.

In Fair Haven, rapper Parker and other members of CBC Rarebreed gather nearly every day in Edward Henderson’s bedroom to fine tune their songs.

"A lot of times, songs are about something we’ve been through, or something we know happened," says Parker, who wears a Denver Nuggets shirt and sits in a chair against the wall.

"Hip-hop is only telling you about what’s going on in front of you, things other people choose to overlook. Hip-hop explains the world to each other," he says.

"I’d write on toilet paper if I had to," laughs Je’Rell Moore, 18. "The vibe I get from music is extraordinary. You can lay down anything that’s burned into your heart."

The bedroom studio is jammed with activity. Also here are Matt Mitchell, 16; his brother Patrick Mitchell, 18; Robert McCormack, 18; Reggie Sutton, 18; and Henderson, 19.

They represent two rap groups that merged several years ago. Of late, their ranks have thinned. Some members joined the military, while others went to jail.

Their music covers a range of topics, from love and war to politics and education. Still, they don’t shy away from graphic lyrics, or references to explicit sex and violence.

Without such things, Parker says,

hip-hop would be only half an art form. "You know what would happen? You wouldn’t be talking about what’s really going on," he says. "It’d be like having Chris Rock without having Dave Chappelle."

Presently, Moore steps to the microphone to sing a few lines from an R&B-tinged song called "Remember," while Henderson mans the computer console.

"I’m committed to you ...

You brought me through ...

My life is with you ..."

The band talks about the growth and scope of hip-hop in-between Moore’s singing.

They say hip-hop surrounds them, whether sitting on a bus or buying a soda at the corner store. New Haven can be a demanding audience for hip-hop, as well. Once, they say, a local crowd turned against a rap singer who came to town and tossed money into the audience at a concert.

"They were insulted," Sutton explains.

It’s also insulting when people dislike their music without listening to it, they remark. McCormack once showed a song to a fellow student at Hamden’s Paier College of Art, and the young woman only wanted to comment on the music, not the words.

"She didn’t understand the meaning. It made me mad," he says.

They all agree hip-hop is reaching more people. Parker says one of his relatives, who used to call it "the devil’s music," now uses expressions such as "drop it like it’s hot."

And recently, when Parker had to call a company in Virginia for his job, the receptionist there answered the phone, "Holla!"

"This lady was 56, and she was white," Parker says.

GEAR PATROL

Another hip-hop mainstay is clothing.

From stylish sneakers to fitted baseball caps, fashion has become as much a part of the hip-hop life as poetry slams and Trick Daddy jams.

"We’ve been into the hip-hop thing about 10 years now," says Mike Laemel of Jimmy’s in West Haven, which bills itself as "Connecticut’s Original Hip-Hop Spot."

"It’s been accepted across the board. Suburban kids and city kids like it, and those kids spend money," Laemel says.

How wired into hip-hop is the fashion industry? Laemel says when rapper Jay-Z came out with a song advising youngsters to throw out their jerseys and put on their "button-ups," droves of kids came in the very next day asking specifically for button-up shirts.

Out on the floor at Jimmy’s, there are dozens of racks of brands such as Sean John, G Unit, Galaxy, Phat Farm and Jordan Craig.

"What’s crazy right now? The Rocawear and Dickies clothing," explains Starr, a young man who has worked here for six years. "In footwear, it’s all Retro Jordans and Air Force Ones. Any color. Any flavor. Oh, and Timberlands. I even got my grandmother Timberlands."

Starr boasts a fitted Yankees cap, a blue button-down shirt and blue jeans with a light fade. He notes that when buying a baseball cap, a proper hip-hopper buys one that fits "deep on the head, so you can pull it down or move it to the side."

For the ladies, store employee April Gates says flight jackets, long-sleeved thermal shirts and Retro Jordan shoes are all the rage.

And hip-hop styles are swiftly moving to a more mature clientele, according to Starr.

"I run into a lot of older white women who shop here for their kids," he says. "They say they don’t know what they’re looking for, but their son wants all-white Uptowns. So they get that, plus they leave with a sweater for their husband."

GOING UNDERGROUND

For Thomas "Tnoc" McLoughlin of Stratford, hip-hop is also about what you give up. He gave up his bedroom.

"Mainstream, commercial hip-hop gives people a bad sense of it," McLoughlin, 23, says. "Hip-hop to me, what it truly represents, is MC-ing, graffiti, break dancing and DJ-ing. Now it’s just a way to make money. It’s turned into pop music. It’s about how big your chains are, how big your guns are. But if you go back to Afrika Bambaataa, it was all about peaceful gatherings."

Like many hip-hop performers, McLoughlin has his own record label. It’s called Abstract Traxx, and most of its business is conducted in McLoughlin’s former bedroom. He’s got his music equipment and computers there now and sleeps on a pullout sofa in the living room.

He describes his music as "abstract, deep-end stuff," which isn’t much like hip-hop music played on the radio. He’s had gigs around the state, including New Haven and Stamford.

"The reason I tend to stick to underground hip-hop is the people are REAL people," McLoughlin says. "With us, some shows we get paid, some shows we do for free. We like to be out there."

Race, he says, is no longer a dominant issue in hip-hop — at least in the underground music scene. Rappers are just as likely to be Caucasian, Latino, Asian or African American, especially since the Internet has made recording and distributing music so much easier.

"Most people think if you’re making good music, it shouldn’t matter if you’re white or black," he says. "If music is good, I’ll like it."

SPEAKING THE TRUTH

Hip-hop’s flexibility becomes evident once rap music is removed from the equation.

There are hip-hop playwrights, hip-hop dancers and hip-hop fine artists. Also, for more than a decade, poetry slams have brought a new electricity to spoken word performances around the world.

"It’s fun because of the rhythm and wordplay of it," says New Haven native Aaron Jafferis, 29, a former poetry slam champion and now a playwright in New York City.

His hip-hop plays include "Shakespeare: The Remix," and "The Jungle."

"I want hip-hop as a whole to take a more political, activist swing," Jafferis says. "In any given hip-hop song, you have so many more words than a rock song. You can fit in a lot more message and political content.

"But I do see some dangers," he adds. "One is the homogenization of content that corporate influence leads to. You also have so many kids planning on doing it to make a living, that it leads to a lack of diversity in career goals."

That’s a danger New Haven educator Zannette Lewis sees, as well.

Lewis, a key organizer of the Peabody Museum’s annual Martin Luther King Day activities, says hip-hop has been "hijacked by the music industry. The people who started it don’t control it anymore."

Nonetheless, she agrees that hip-hop is a creative fuel that nourishes American culture. In fact, when the Peabody surveyed local kids to see what would bring them to the museum, the answer was clear: they want hip-hop.

That’s why, among the museum’s MLK activities this weekend, there will be a "hip-hop room" with a Monday poetry slam competition and spoken word performances.

"It’s powerful," Lewis says of hip-hop poetry. "It’s phenomenal."

HIP-HOP ‘TIL YOU DROP

For a global view of hip-hop, there’s Lancei’s Music Box on Chapel Street.

The proprietor, 33-year-old Lancei Traore, spent most of his life in West Africa before moving to America. His shop is adorned with dozens of posters, featuring performers such as Jay-Z, Mary J. Blige, Eminem, the late Tupac Shakur, Fabulous, Outkast and Mos Def.

"In my country, all the people loved Tupac, loved Biggie (Smalls)," Traore says. "They loved Bob Marley and Nas."

He says the biggest difference he sees between American hip-hop fans and African hip-hop fans is that American kids devote themselves to music at the expense of their own education.

It’s late afternoon at Lancei’s, heading into evening.

A man in his 40s stops by to say hello but doesn’t buy anything. He thinks hip-hop music is "crap," he says, because it focuses too much on sex and violence. This is merely a social call.

"I listen to stuff from the ‘60s," he says.

A female customer, 27-year-old Aeisha Whichard of New Haven, is more of a fan.

"I care about it. I listen to it whenever I can," Whichard says. "I also like the clothes and the dancing in the videos. I used to love Mase. He’s down with P. Diddy."

For a while there’s a lull, until people start showing up after work.

Shawn Perry, 20, of New Haven comes in wearing a winter jacket with a hooded sweatshirt underneath. His hands are cold, and he rubs them as he intently examines the CD racks.

He’s been writing hip-hop music for four years.

"I’m versatile," Perry says. "I can do something about a girl, about gangsters, about school. It’s all about creating your own style."

Perry says he’d love to earn a lot of money with his music, but even if he doesn’t, hip-hop is important on a personal level.

"Whenever I’m stressed out from work or whatever, writing makes me serene," he says. "If I write, I’m OK."


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Jim Shelton can be reached at jshelton@nhregister.com or (203) 789-5664.



©New Haven Register 2005
- New Haven Register