It was a Saturday night in Clinton. A police car cautiously circled the Holiday Inn Express parking lot, wary of the thumping beats emanating from a rear entrance. A heavyset man shuffled out to meet the cruiser; he might have seemed imposing if not for the rapturous smile that never left his face.
"How ya doin'?" he called out with good cheer. The cops recognized him, gave a wave and moved along, confident that all was good at the motel tonight.
Those thumping beats traced a path back to the birthday party of 8-year-old Di'Mariya Baskin. By all appearances, the setting resembled any other pre-teen affair: Festive birthday bunting hung over aluminum trays filled with hot links, chili, cheese and chips. Children in pink shirts and sparkles filled the room, and a rising mountain of gifts overtook a table against the back wall. The scene seemed incongruous with the heavy rhythm tracks pumping through the small room, but perhaps that's the point of a holy hip-hop party.
Headlining the event was Di'Mariya's father, Di'Marco Baskin—aka TwiceborN—a friend of Clinton cops and a nationally renowned Christian rapper. After the attendees were all accounted for, he took center stage with his fellow holy hip-hoppers Wun80 and True.
Wun80, the most introspective of the three, opened with a frank personal monologue titled "Dark into Light." In it, Wun80 detailed his own troubled past, admitting that "I stole and lied / I've got personalities like Jekyll and Hyde," but now "I'm so ecstatic that I'm living on this side."
True's inspired energy and blistering delivery fired up the crowd in "You Can't See Me," warning potential beelzebubs that "I'm a soul go getter / and I go get 'em / I bag down devils / and whoever roll wit' em." Every young partygoer was dancing on stage by the time TwiceborN sang his infectious "Get Your Prayz On." They eagerly followed his instructions to "Move ya feet / Clap yo hands / Praise the Lord / Do ya Dance."
Even the most cynical spectators seemed moved by the emotional intensity of it all, a raw candor that could only come from deep experiential wells. TwiceborN, Wun80 and True all began as secular rappers, and each fell hard before picking themselves up. Wun80 began his life as Martez Cobb, and rapped under the name Brick.
"My granddaddy gave me that name. … I was hardheaded," he says.
Born again as Brickdabelieva, he found a new outlet for his stubbornness, and the switch to Wun80 allowed a more decisive break from his past.
True followed a similar path. Born Tyler Jiles, he once rapped as Tyler B, before getting so messed up, in his words, that "I wanted to die. … I walked out into a busy street and something, God, pulled me back."
TwiceborN released his secular CD in 2003 as DBoy Caprice. He, too, lived a "fast life" with drugs and gambling. But after their transformations, none of the three was able to give up their musical gifts. TwiceborN recalls that after returning to the church, for some time he wanted nothing to do with hip-hop. "When I first got into the church, rapping was the last thing I wanted to do," TwiceborN says. "But after about a year in the church, God told me to go write a song."
That song, "Wonderful Life," launched his new career in holy hip-hop. True felt the same way, and after his conversion, he prayed to God: "I don't want to let this gift you gave me go."
True, Wun80 and TwiceborN all have no doubts that a genre traditionally associated with decidedly unreligious behavior can serve as an effective vehicle for their ministries. Wun80 argues that "I didn't know God was OK with hip-hop, but then he told me that he made hip-hop, too." TwiceborN, the irrepressible wordsmith, says, "If I am crossing over by doing this genre of music, at least when I crossover I'm bringing the cross over."
The party-going youngsters didn't seem too concerned about the finer points of cultural syncretism. After the show, the kids tucked into their chili dogs. Some adult skeptics bore the grins of the newly converted while others still couldn't stop moving. The conversation in the parking lot revolved around God, hip-hop and when the next party could bring the two together again.
As evidenced by Di'Mariya's party, central Mississippi already can claim a budding holy hip-hop scene. Where it goes next is anybody's guess—not that people like TwiceborN bother with such petty mortal predictions. Still in the infancy of his career, he's already performed onstage with Kurtis Blow at the Holy Hip Hop Awards in Atlanta. He's a deacon of his church in Clinton, and his CD is scheduled for release this summer. Still, he demurs with characteristic humility: "I'm just trying to keep up with all the places God is taking me," he says.
Visit http://www.myspace.com/meettwiceborn.com to hear TwiceborN's music.
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