But LL COOL J didn’t talk about Hip-Hop like it was his job. Rather, he was describing what seemed to be a living, breathing, entity that had evolved out of DJ Kool Herc’s rec room on Sedgwick Avenue, and into a global phenomenon.
And in LL COOL J’s estimation, if we didn’t get it right, 300 years from now, many of the most important b-boys, b-girls, graffiti artists, MC’s, and DJ’s from the ‘70s, ‘80s, and ‘90s would be lost to history.
As his words bank-shot off my cerebellum, I was still thinking about the “we” part in the scenario. I imagined he and I fighting shoulder to shoulder in a Marvel-esque sequence in which a supervillain imprisoned all of LL COOL’s heroes and peers within the confines of the dreaded, “Old School” designation.
“It’s classic, and timeless music,” LL COOL J told me. “No one calls James Brown, The Rolling Stones, or Bob Dylan, ‘old School.’ So why should Hip-Hop have to wear those scarlet letters?”
That was our challenge. Rock The Bells was to become the symbol for long-lasting reverence, and no age group, color, or creed, was going to be excluded. Simply put, If Hip-Hop got you up in the morning, or soothed you after a nightmare, Rock The Bells was going to be the manifestation of the right path forward.
So we built it. We’ve unearthed untold stories, set the record straight, and celebrated achievements that have nothing to do with chart placements or money in the bank.
