Anyone from North Jersey who was remotely involved with Hip-Hop had some six degrees of separation story as to how or why they knew about the Fugees before the rest of the world did. For me, it was through a childhood friend in 7th grade whose cousin had a crush on this girl in his high school who was involved in some Haitian rap group. After hearing her poor quality demo that was awkwardly brilliant, I felt connected to this group whose fate was not yet determined. A year later “Nappy Heads” met the radio. It was then that I was re-introduced to my quasi-homegirl named L-Boogie – a suburban Jersey girl just like me, who frolicked in the inner city just like me, and loved Hip-Hop…just like me.
Lauryn Hill was the unsung superstar during the Fugees’ Tranzlator Crew days. From their “real” first single “Boof Baf,” Lauryn danced in the shadows of Wyclef’s cartoonish persona. If anyone played “Some Seek Stardom” on Blunted On Reality, they clearly knew that behind Clef’s obnoxiousness and Pras’ monotone rhymes stood a talented young lady searching for her voice. Then The Score happened. Sure, we knew L had the lyrics in her on random side projects like Big Kap’s “Da Ladies,” but The Score sealed the deal that Lauryn knew what the hell she was talking about. For me, I think it was the local aspect of it all, as Lauryn shouted, “Ha ha ha ha ya hafta respect Jersey ‘cause I’m super fly when I’m super high on the Fu-gee-la.” Lauryn was for me what Bon Jovi was for the rest of my white friends growing up in the New Jeru. And from that point on she was my hero.
When the Bootleg Versions dropped, along with “Hip-Hopera” and “Rumble In the Jungle,” I began tracking Lauryn’s evolution as a lyricist. She went from, “I don’t puff blunts so I always got my breath, never had to battle with a bullet proof vest” to “Teach the youth they got more rights than Miranda, tell ‘em this whole shit is propaganda” in under a few years. The things she discussed that I didn’t know about, I went to the library and learned. Hell, I even rented Coolie High to get the whole concept of the “Killing Me Softly” video. I too cried when Cochise died. I patiently waited for Lauryn to finally strut her stuff on a solo record. Then The Carnival happened, like wtf? Still, Lauryn managed to drop some knowledge on “Year Of the Dragon,” and of course “Guantanamera,” where she hid her pregnant belly behind a parade float in Mexico during the video. Then The Miseducation Of Lauryn Hill happened.
At 19 years old, Miseducation couldn’t have happened at a more perfect time for me. Lauryn consoled me over every guy who had ever broken my heart, and for the men who would later fool me, Lauryn warned me beforehand. Her entire catalog became the blueprint of my life, and for that I was eternally grateful. But before Miseducation even hit the shelves in the summer of ’98, so began my chase to meet the woman who changed my life.
Earlier that summer (1998), some friends and I packed up my Dodge Neon and traveled three hours to Hartord, Connecticut to catch Lauryn Hill in the only concert she was scheduled for – the f*cking Lilith Fair Tour. No disrespect to the ladies of Lilith Fair, but it just wasn’t our crowd. Still, we had a good enough reason to be there. That was until we were informed that Miss Hill was a no show. I cried for two days. Straight.
August 25, 1998. After waiting on line for approximately two hours, I met my muse face to face at the Virgin Megastore in Union Square, New York City. She was seated behind a school desk with a chalkboard behind her (keeping up with the whole Miseducation theme – how clever!). I marched right up to her in this maniacal fan tizzy and scolded her for not showing up to Lilith Fair like two months prior. WTF?! Whoever believes that Lauryn Hill is racist can dead those stale beliefs right here, because Lauryn Noel Hill apologized profusely to my white ass while hoards of mixed races awaited their 15 seconds with her. I still have that autograph framed. Mine read, “To Kathy, Love Lauryn” while everyone else’s said, “Love Lauryn.” Maybe it was the Jersey connection, who knows.
I attended about five shows during The 1999 Miseducation Tour. I began memorizing the routine and would recite it like that annoying girl at the movies, who says the lines before they happen. Later that summer, a friend in South Orange, New Jersey told us about the Hills having a block party, so myself and now fellow AllHipHop scribe Alex Thornton trekked the 25 minutes to South Orange to bumrush the barbecue. We were greeted by many Marleys (we think), but no Lauryn. Alex and I both agreed that the incident was far too stalkerish and we would never mention it…until now (sorry Alex).
The two years that followed were defending the career of Miss Hill like it was my job. Everyone from my mother to ?uestlove heard about how I was convinced that it wasn’t the last of Lauryn Hill. Then the Essence Awards happened – locks gone, acoustic guitar strapped, belting “Adam Lives In Theory.” Like the rest of the world, I was so confused. Two years prior, this girl swept the Grammy’s (which fell on my birthday that year) and was out to save music! Now, who the hell was gonna save her? I needed some answers; had Lauryn gone mad?
July 2001, I headed to Brooklyn USA to the African Arts Festival where Lauryn was rumored to be performing. She arrived with her guitar and cried on stage. It was weird seeing Lauryn cry, like seeing your mom cry. This vision of strength breaking down before me suddenly became so…human. I went backstage, where hundreds of people were surrounding her. In the midst of the swarm of fans, she looked me dead in the eye and said, “Hey! You traveled just as long as I did to get here.” She remembered me! Lauryn Hill remembered me! She was definitely not crazy. I proved my point and went home. Unplugged happened, but she wasn’t crazy to me. I caught her at the Smokin’ Grooves Tour, and she still wasn’t crazy to me. After that, I got into writing, and my hero and I parted ways. Let’s not get into my missing the Block Party. It was a painful memory that I revisit on my DVD player.
I started writing seriously because Lauryn once said that words would hit her in her sleep and she’d wake up and have to write them down. Those things happened to me all the time since I learned to read, but I ignored them for the first 23 years of my life. When I finally wrote the words down, they weren’t half bad, so call me a writer. Now I had a whole new reason to thank Lauryn Hill. Last year, I met a woman named Joss Stone, who went to the extreme to get Lauryn Hill on her record. I must admit I was pretty ambivalent towards Lauryn until Joss and I carried on about her for hours like I was back in high school. It hit me then, that after five years as a journalist, I was ready to interview Lauryn Hill. I tucked it away in the back of my mind on my list of things to-do along with visiting Egypt and buying a Marc Jacobs bag. Four months later, I bought the Marc Jacobs bag, so my dreams were coming true. Do I dare find Lauryn? The first thing I did was hit up Joss, my initial inspiration, and she gave me some contact information. I also reached out to my good friend who worked with Lauryn, and he sent an email out.
Then I am informed that Lauryn Hill will be performing in Brooklyn on August 6, 2007. All of my run-ins with Lauryn happened in the summertime, and this one would be no different…so I thought. Armed with my recorder, my cousin, and an AllHipHop business card that wasn’t even mine, I ventured out to Brooklyn to interview a woman who at one time meant the world to me. I must admit, when I arrived in Brooklyn, I was only half-excited. After reading the articles about Lauryn flaking and watching the most recent video where she sounds sane but looks otherwise, I kind of numbed myself to the idea of seeing her again. Let’s forget the Fugees reunion incident altogether. Lauryn was the shell of my old friend, and I was interviewing the memory. That was the plan.
We circled the neighborhood for two hours trying to penetrate the crowd heading into the venue. I watched as local residents, frat boys, sorority girls, kids from foreign, and Hip-Hop hippies all migrated towards the Wingate Field. That was until we were all sent away. Not even the Alternatives Editor from the Number One Hip-Hop website could squeeze in to get a few words. It then hit me that I waited my whole life for an opportunity like this, and lost it. We drove to the end of Brooklyn, turned back around again and tried one more time, but no dice. As I was driving home, I realized that Lauryn was still my friend. I still wake up from my sleep to write, and I still downloaded “Doo Wop (That Thing)” onto my Blackberry. Regardless of her decisions, I still take her advice about men, and still wear one bangle bracelet in her honor. As I listened to her freestyle on DJ Skribble’s Traffic Jam, I realized I am hardly above her influence. She is still one of the reasons why I write, and I still have to thank her for it. And just when you thought it was safe to relax, L-Boogie spits with perfect syntax.
Until then, here is a little dedication I wrote with the help of some famous quoters. I'm hearing rumors swell of her penning new material in her bathroom on toilet paper. I will take what I can get.
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