Red Cloud: All Those Things Make Me Cry | Risen Magazine
I’m sitting at Syntax Records in Lemon Grove, California, tapped out to the beat, marinating on the words and generally enjoying the uncollected works of RedCloud, an indigenous rapper who at that moment is driving from the hospital after visiting his mother, who just survived a difficult surgery. When a particularly catchy track ends, Syntax co-owner Tim Trudeau slides a DVD into his laptop and up comes the song “Tapatio,” accompanied by a video of the same name, starring “Cloud” as Trudeau alternately calls him, and featuring another up-and-comer, Pigeon John. Midway through the jubilant clip, RedCloud enters the studio and takes a seat near me. The video trails off, its main player introduces himself, and we begintalking about everything from the vatos in the ’hood he grew up with, to passive resistance, to the wisdom of warrior politics as practiced by his great ancestors.
He carries a wound on his forehead from the gang he left and an unseen wound on his heart left by those who were charged with protecting him as a child. RedCloud is well aware that he bears the name of a great warrior, a man who sacrificed everything for his people. Please listen closely—Makhpiya-Luta, RedCloud in the English language, has something to say, and not all of it ends in neat rhymes.
Interviewed exclusively for Risen Magazine at Syntax Records in Lemon Grove, California.
Risen Magazine: How were you introduced to hip-hop?
RedCloud: Man, it’s funny you say that, because I was raised on the music of my father—oldies, Hendrix, Santana, Chicago… But we lived in Hawthorne, and growing up there in the ’80s, everybody was into hip-hop. The first time I heard hip-hop, I thought it was cool but that it didn’t hold up to the music my dad played in his bomba, lowrider car. Then, one day in the sixth grade at lunchtime, a bunch of kids were walking to the grassy area.I ran, wanting to see my first big fight on school campus. Then I saw these two tall black guys who were mad doggin’ each other, bumpin’ chests and talkin’ smack. This one guy says, “Yo man, anybody here kick a beat box? This fool thinks he can get me.” I was like, What is he talkin’ about? This guy next to me covers his mouth [RedCloud perfectly imitates a beat]. Then the guys start makin’ fun of each other, and makin’ it rhyme, baggin’ on each other’s shoes, on their clothes, on their mamas. At every punch line, the crowd would erupt with laughter. They were both good and I was tryin’ to pick my favorite.
It caught me off guard, and I could see they were makin’ it up as they went along—freestylin’. The bell rings and they shake hands and walk away, in opposite directions, and this one dude has a big crowd around him, saying, “Yeah man, you served that fool.” And this other guy’s walkin’ away with his posse around him and they’re cheerin’ him on. The whole week, everybody’s talkin’ about that battle between those two dudes. After that, I tried freestylin’, cheesy things like, “Yo, crusin’ down the street, there’s a blue car, it’s goin’ really fast, it’s goin’ really far.” Then I learned about militant hip-hop: Public Enemy, X-Clan, NWA, fight the power stuff. I was like, this is it.
RM: Do you think battle rap curbs gang violence?
RC: For sure. In high school we’d go to the house parties. My gangs were Hawthorne Pyru and Little Watts. I would go to a party and there’s some dudes from Lennox 13, there’s some dudes from Lawndale, oh snap, Little Mobsters, Florence is over there. Sometimes there’s a DJ and he’d say, “Who’s the best MC in this place?” and someone from this crew and that crew would go. Of course I would step up and grab the microphone and outshine all these dudes. Afterwards it was always like, “Props, Homie.” Nobody would meet in the parking lot, everybody respected.
RM: Tell me about your gang days.
RC: From 1986 to 1989 Hawthorne Pyru and Little Watts were connected. By the time I got jumped out in eighth grade, in 1991, they didn’t get along anymore and so I ended up getting jumped out by both gangs. That’s where I got this knot on my forehead. [Points to scar]
RM: “Jumped out,” what’s that mean?
RC: Jumped in means four or five dudes beat you up to get in [the gang], blood in. When you get jumped out of the gang, the same amount of dudes beat you up, just a little rougher, and that’s your initiation to get out, blood out. Usually it’s very hard to get out. I did it before I got out of high school. It was a problem, but not like I would have had if I were a 12th grader.
RM: What connected you with your indigenous heritage?
RC: I was adopted at eight months and raised hardcore Chicano. My birth father is from the Chiapas tribe in Mexico, and the Juagenio tribe here, the San Juan Capistrano Indians. My mom is from Jalisco; the indigenous people there are the Huichol. But the biggest Indian tribes in the United States are right here in San Diego, the people selling oranges on street corners, the Cholos running around the streets of LA, those are the warriors of today, the tribes of today. This is their land and they get treated as if they’re trying to cross the Atlantic Ocean, when they’re just trying to hop a fence back to California. We pretend that California, Nevada, Arizona, New Mexico, Colorado, aren’t Mexico. That was all our land. We’re not immigrants. Imagine being called an immigrant on your own land. When I started getting into hip-hop with some of the homies at my school, we learned about all these chiefs, even the Mexican and Incan chiefs. Tu Pac Shakur got his name from an Incan Indian chief. I realized I should be proud of being who I am, and who I am is indigenous.
Before I become a missionary to Africa, I have to be a missionary to my people here. That’s my heart, the indigenous people. Whether you’re Canadian, Alaskan, the Northern Plains tribes, East Coast Iroquois, one of those 500 tribes in Mexico, you’re indigenous. That lady selling roses on the corner is Indian, a lot more than the guy with the blue eyes and the Jesus beard who might be a third [Indian]. [Laughs]
RM: You could be on the verge of a big breakthrough in your career, but that’s not always a good thing for someone of faith.
RC: I’m aware of the traps. I do 150 shows a year. I go from a nightclub to a church the next morning, from that church to a powwow, from that powwow to a festival, from that festival with 20,000 people to a coffee shop with a 100 people, from that coffee shop to a reservation, to a youth group, to an MC battle at some crazy club in Compton. God is awesome; He trained me and raised me in a certain way, so that I’m prepared for war. I’m not lookin’ for Puff Daddy status.
RM: How were you trained?
RC: I was trained by battle MCs—the Tunnel Rats, LPG, Christian dudes. When I got saved, I didn’t know there was Christian music. I didn’t even know I was a Christian. I just knew that I loved Jesus. I got saved through an ex Blood. Lennox and Little Watts and Redondo were all there. The dude that led me in the sinner’s prayer is one of the baddest dudes on the mic against other rappers. The fact that they would battle and not cuss? You gotta be good—you break that dude down without cussing. It’s improv, so it’s out of your heart and if you mess up, that’s bad. We trained not to cuss, to break down the dudes ego, cuz right now that dude’s got a big head. Break’m down for the Lord. I get tempted sometimes, I have my crutches, I’ll say frick instead of the “f” word, shoots, instead of the other word.
RM: What makes you cry?
RC: My wife will play slow music in the car and I’ll think about my mom, my dad, my brothers in jail, my nephews, my nieces, what heroin, crack, and meth have done in my family—that makes me so angry. My pops, my poor pops. My real dad, where is he? My real mom, why didn’t she want me? Why was I adopted? I think about my poor wife when I’m on the road. When I see injustice, the treatment of my people. When indigenous people are treated badly, I weep. Worship music every Sunday morning, I’m bawling. I’m the guy in the corner with his head in his hands.Man, all those things make me cry.
RM:If I had never heard the word God, how would you describe Him?
RC: Without sounding cheesy, God is love, God is light. God is life. God is mystery. God is real. I don’t care what anybody says, I’m walking evidence of that.If anybody asks who God is there’s an action [Opens arms wide and enfolds them]. A blanket for the cold.
RM: Did you learn manhood from your father?
RC: A lot of men are stoic and cold. You gotta be there for your kids; you gotta listen, be a provider, a leader, a servant, a disciple. My dad was cold, didn’t talk much, but when he told me he loved me, it rocked my earth. When I got to go in his lowrider, oh man. My dad was that classic lowrider, looked like the logo for Lowrider Magazine.
One day I got into a fight with this kid, and I beat him up in the classroom. After school he follows me to my house. He runs toward me and tackles me. My head hit the floor and I almost blacked out. He punched me in the face and then got off me. He got off me because my dad was there. I thought, I’m so glad my dad’s here. My dad picks me up and drags me toward him, like chase him, get him. I’m like, dang, I just got knocked out. Man up, that was my dad.He wasn’t the most perfect or most loving father. A little more love would have been good. In the end heroin got the best of him and he wasn’t himself.
RM:As you know, many of the old Indian chiefs were like servants.
RC: That’s the way I think about it, man. I get to my shows first and I meet with everybody and I hang with everybody. I’m carryin’ my DJ’s equipment and when they break down I help them. I’m the first there and the last to leave. Ministry starts when you lend a helping hand.
RM: What does the name RedCloud mean to you?
RC: It’s the name of one of the greatest chiefs ever, Makhpiya-Luta. Before he died he had to make some crazy decisions to save the lives of his people. I want to be a guy who makes those types of decisions, to save his people. When you see the sunrise in the morning, the clouds are red around it. To me the sun is the best representation I have of God. With it comes life, light.I want to be around the Son of Man, the Son of God, day and night. Sunrise and sunset, like a red cloud.
RM: What would you fight to the death for?
RC: My people, my Creator, even though He would want me to fight to the life. But I serve a mighty Creator and I don’t think He would want me to kill anybody. Any man can break a building down, but not any man can build a building. Any man can kill a person, but it takes a skilled man to heal. It took a skilled man to heal my mom this morning, to help her. Vengeance is mine, says the Lord.
RM: Where do you see yourself in 10,000 years?
RC: Man, I think I’ll be sitting with God and asking all the questions, or maybe you won’t even have to ask. I’ll see my dad and my mom and not have to worry about things that get in the way of seeing God, like paying the bills. All the things of your dreams will be waiting for you. You’ll see a lion, kickin’ it. No death. We’ll see all the animals that have passed away. Some people say dogs don’t go to heaven; whatever, my dogs do. [Laughs]
RedCloud’s newest CD, Hawthorne’s Most Wanted, is available in record stores and online through SyntaxRecords.com.
Taken from Risen Magazine online
Comments [0]