With the death of DJ Mister Cee, hip-hop mourns the loss of an irreplaceable titan

DJ, Mr. Ceea legendary New York DJ who played an integral role in the careers of rap luminaries resembling Big Daddy Kane and Notorious B.I.G. He died on Wednesday. He was 57 years old.

Condolences on social media from fans and friendssuch Kane50 Cent, Chuck D, Lil’ Cease, DJ Premier and author Cheo Hodari Coker. Many of the tributes focused on the same theme: Mr. Cee’s love for hip-hop culture knew no bounds. Cee, a hip-hop pioneer par excellence, was a strolling, secure space. Not just for the rappers and executives he has met and worked with over the years. He was like this with many he met.

“(Cee) was one of my favorite music encyclopedias. Learning from him was an absolute blessing. He handled hip-hop with such care and such deep love,” he said Scottie Beamformer Hot 97 digital producer who worked closely with Cee when he unleashed his legendary southern mixes. “He always wanted to meet the right people in his hip-hop domain. The impact, passion and work (Cee) put into this culture will never, ever be forgotten and I will miss him greatly.”

It’s inconceivable to inform the history of hip-hop without mentioning Mr. Cee’s name. Cee, born Calvin Lebrun in the Bedford-Stuyvesant section of Brooklyn, was the first person I interviewed about the book. Shortly after the quarantine began, I felt anxious. Here I used to be writing a book about one of Cee’s closest friends, and he may very well be skeptical or cautious. Considering where the world was at the time, it might have been comprehensible. I expected the interview to last half-hour. We talked for 3 hours.

During our conversation, Mr. Cee recalled his life. He grew up in the Lafayette Gardens projects in Brooklyn in the Nineteen Seventies, at a time when the city was awash with drugs. Some selected street life. Cee selected music. He laughed as he remembered the freestyle rap battles that took place in the Sarah J. Hale High School cafeteria in the early Nineteen Eighties. He cracked up much more, remembering how he jumped into cyphers, but using the lines of his then-group, the Magnum Force Crew. Cee’s laughter turned to tears of joy as he talked about his last ever opponent, MC Kane.

“When my lunch break ended, I went out and a guy in a leather jacket that looked like Kurtis Blow came up to me. The guy walks up to me, reaches into the inside pocket of his leather jacket – remember, we’re in high school now – and pulls out a microphone. He said, “Hey, I heard you wanted to fight me.” I’m MC Kane,” Cee told me, struggling to get through the story because he couldn’t stop laughing. “I thought the guy was crazy! I say, “No, I was using my rhymes for the crew.” I started to back away! I thought: I don’t want any problems. I thought this guy was crazy for wearing a microphone at school.”

He continued: “A week or two later, I come back to the dining room and there is a large crowd around the table. It was that MC Kane again, dude.” After lunch, Cee asked Kane to listen to him DJ and join his crew. Kane initially refused, claiming he was a solo actor. “So I said, listen, just come to me, hearken to me DJ, and perhaps perhaps you may reconsider. Sure enough, Kane got here to my projects in Bed-Stuy. He heard me DJing and said, “Hey, I’m depressed.” Whatever you ought to do, I’ll meet the crew. “

From that moment on, an unbreakable bond was formed as MC Kane became Big Daddy Kane. Cee and Kane met later Biz Markie, who helped get the two signed to Cold Chillin’ Records. Mr. Cee spoke with great pride and respect to people like DJ 50 Grand, Notorious BIG and Matteo “Matty C” Capoluongowhose “Unsigned Noise” column. caught the attention of Sean “Puffy” Combs. Cee remembered introducing Biggie to Puffy as if it had happened five minutes before we began talking relatively than thirty years earlier. And the same confidence Kane had in Cee, Biggie had in Cee too.

“Whatever Cee says, man,” Biggie told Combs when the then aspiring music executive mentioned a take care of Uptown Records. – Whatever Cee says.

Cee laughed as he recalled helping Biggie record songs like “Juicy” and “Big Poppa” for the album, which he executive produced. He cried as he recalled how Biggie lent him money to repay a deep debt to his landlord. He was still frustrated that Biggie threw his wife Faith Evans under the bus on the classic rap duet “Brooklyn’s Finest” with Jay-Z. And he fell silent for a couple of minutes, recalling the days, weeks and months after Biggie’s murder in March 1997.

The conversation was extensive, but what I took away most was Mr. Cee’s gratitude. He understood his place in hip-hop, but he also at all times wondered about the culture’s place in his life. Cee is accountable for some of street rap’s most significant lyrics, starting with Biggie’s demo tape, which Cee polished and placed in the right hands, to AND tapes for his own mixtapes, which have since change into part of the city’s cultural identity, no different from graffiti on the subway or block parties on warm summer nights.

“(Mister) Cee’s influence reached far beyond the airwaves, shaping the very fabric of DJ culture in New York” – Hot 97 shared in an announcement. Cee worked at the station for 21 years before his departure in 2014. “Our hearts are heavy as we send our love and condolences to his family and the fans whose lives he touched with his music.”

Perhaps the mostly used word to explain him is “friend.” In addition to all the good he delivered to the music world over five many years, Cee found immortality in his character, whether he realized it or not. He was at all times willing to share his knowledge and at all times willing to inform his stories because he knew that specific acts of kindness meant something to people. He listened as much as he spoke – and gave much more love than was given to him. It’s inconceivable to reflect on his life and never do not forget that in his later years, certain points of the culture weren’t so kind to Cee, especially when his sexuality has change into a hot topic of discussion.

Proverbial bullets that Cee took as a consequence of his personal lifeespecially after he has been arrested for recruiting transgender staff, was a teachable moment for a culture that was not behaving honorably at the time. J. Cole referenced this case in 2013’s “Forbidden Fruit,” rapping: “The ugliest venom got here from a Power 105 radio host Charlamagne Tha God, who repeatedly mocked Mr. Cee, calling him a “serial penis purchaser” on air. Cee watched as his character was examined under a microscope and pressure was put on him to explain his sexuality. (In 2021, Mr. Cee said he considered himself “trying sex.”) Despite this, despite the culture hidden homophobiapeople like Funkmaster Flex and 50 Cent he rushed to Cee’s defense.

The controversy over Mr. Cee’s sexuality could have ended his profession, however it didn’t. The culture eventually adapted to its needs or moved on to the next goal. But Mister Cee was greater than only a hip-hop expert. He was a hip-hop survivor. After his death, the species must once more ask itself why it’s mandatory to make anyone a survivor, especially individuals who offered a lot life in culture?

Mister Cee was a tour de force that is never seen on this genre. One who combined God-given talent with Heaven-ordained altruism. One who, when the culture lost a titan, was at all times there to send it to the pearly gates in style. No one praised his peers like Mr. Cee.

Cee told me a story about the day Biggie died. He’d gotten the call a couple of hours earlier and was sitting in the fog in a taxi to the Hot 97 studios. Five years earlier, Cee had convinced Biggie to take rap seriously and leave the hustle alone. Now he was the reality of life without the young man who had modified his life. When he walked into the Hot 97 office, Angie Martinez was already crying. His tears immediately began appearing. Somehow, they survived that day – one of the darkest in New York’s musical history – because they felt they owed a lot to the city. As news of Cee’s death spread, Martinez re-posted to Instagram with a heavy heart.

“Oh Cee, I’m having a hard time finding words. You were so good at it…NO ONE will ever do it better.” – she wrote on Instagram. “I have so many memories of (you) showing up for me all these years. So much healthy debate. So many brainstorming sessions and meaningful conversations. So much love. So much history. I am grateful for all this and for (you). I pray that you will be at peace, my friend.”

Fifty-seven continues to be a painfully young age in the grand scheme of life, and Cee is one more member of the hip-hop community who has never achieved senior status. But Mr. Cee has by some means packaged moments, relationships, and art that may last more than his physical frame ever could. Perhaps there may be joy on this sadness. DJ Mister Cee lived a hip-hop life price telling for future generations.