Feb 14, 2014
foodandsh-t:

HIDMO BACK!MONDAY, FEB 17 6PMINAY’S (2503 Beacon Ave S, Seattle, WA)
Living in an rapidly-changing city like Seattle means carrying the fond memory of places that no longer exist, the stories made in them, and the stories shared through them.
For many artists, organizers, musicians, workers and families, Hidmo was such a place. In spite of the creeping curtain of gentrification edging closer with each year, from 2006-2010, a brilliant community ate, drank, sang, rapped, danced, talked and organized in a space open to anyone who didn’t believe in margins and boundaries. We were sad to see it close, but thrilled with the possibilities that such a place inspired in many of us. 
So here we are, three years later,  witnessing the same people who once called Hidmo home continuing to make music and art, mobilizing for social justice, and surviving. Though the place we called Hidmo is gone, the idea of Hidmo still lives. This pop-up restaurant project was born out of the spirit of Hidmo, and many of the same people who you’d see there are among the people who have helped support Food & Sh*t. So when our good homie Rahwa brought up the idea of bringing Eritrean dishes to the menu, we thought, “HIDMO BACK!” Even if just for one night.
Nostalgia is often an excuse to avoid facing the future. For the graduating class of 20th & Jackson, it’s always been about the future. This month’s pop-up is a homecoming and a reminder that we create and recreate our homes wherever we are, whatever we do, and with whoever shares the same vision. And knowing that the greatest endeavors often starts when you have a room filled with good food, good music and good people.
- Geo
HIDMO BACK! will be running two pop-up dinner services: one from 6-8pm which is open to the public ($25, limited to 50 seats) and a private 8pm dinner (invite only). 
For menu and RSVP (for 6pm dinner) click the image or go here.


Hidmo is the fam.

foodandsh-t:

HIDMO BACK!
MONDAY, FEB 17 6PM
INAY’S (2503 Beacon Ave S, Seattle, WA)

Living in an rapidly-changing city like Seattle means carrying the fond memory of places that no longer exist, the stories made in them, and the stories shared through them.

For many artists, organizers, musicians, workers and families, Hidmo was such a place. In spite of the creeping curtain of gentrification edging closer with each year, from 2006-2010, a brilliant community ate, drank, sang, rapped, danced, talked and organized in a space open to anyone who didn’t believe in margins and boundaries. We were sad to see it close, but thrilled with the possibilities that such a place inspired in many of us. 

So here we are, three years later,  witnessing the same people who once called Hidmo home continuing to make music and art, mobilizing for social justice, and surviving. Though the place we called Hidmo is gone, the idea of Hidmo still lives. This pop-up restaurant project was born out of the spirit of Hidmo, and many of the same people who you’d see there are among the people who have helped support Food & Sh*t. So when our good homie Rahwa brought up the idea of bringing Eritrean dishes to the menu, we thought, “HIDMO BACK!” Even if just for one night.

Nostalgia is often an excuse to avoid facing the future. For the graduating class of 20th & Jackson, it’s always been about the future. This month’s pop-up is a homecoming and a reminder that we create and recreate our homes wherever we are, whatever we do, and with whoever shares the same vision. And knowing that the greatest endeavors often starts when you have a room filled with good food, good music and good people.

- Geo

HIDMO BACK! will be running two pop-up dinner services: one from 6-8pm which is open to the public ($25, limited to 50 seats) and a private 8pm dinner (invite only). 

For menu and RSVP (for 6pm dinner) click the image or go here.

Hidmo is the fam.

(via prometheusbrown)

Jan 31, 2014

prometheusbrown:

THIS AINT A SEAHAWKS ANTHEM

Jan 27, 2014
prometheusbrown:

An excerpt from my essay “How I Started Rapping” from the newly-published Empire of Funk: Hip-hop & Representation in Filipina/o America, which you can cop here and real soon at Amazon & Barnes & Noble.
1. A Bad Rap
 It’s 1987 somewhere in Waipahu. I am seven years old at a wedding and I’m dressed in slacks, a dress shirt and a pair of Adidas. The rented-out gymnasium is laid out from front to back like almost every big party I’ve been to: a food table laid out buffet style, tables and seats for eating and chilling, a dance floor that’s too big, and, at the very end of the room: a DJ behind a table standing between two large speakers flanked by his pompadour-and-rat-tailed mobile DJ crew.
 I remember thinking they were the coolest Filipinos I’ve ever seen. I had been to many other Filipino parties with DJ’s but these dudes aren’t playing music from their living room speakers or using two tape decks. They have turntables and their own sound and lighting system. A banner hangs on the wall behind them repping their mobile DJ company name, probably something like “fresh” or “fusion” or something else that begins with “f.” They play all the 80s pop stuff all wedding DJ’s should play, but they’re also playing a bunch of rap. I emulate the older kids’ breakdance moves when they aren’t looking. The DJ pays Run-DMC’s “My Adidas,” and I’m like “hey, I’m wearing those!” 
 This isn’t one of those “when I fell in love with hip-hop” moments. It’s simply one of hundreds of moments I remember, out of many more I’ve forgotten, where hip-hop happened to be the soundtrack of my upbringing. For many Filipino kids who grew up in 1980s America, we didn’t fall in love with hip-hop, but we fell in love while hip-hop surrounded us. Before YO! MTV Raps and The Source Magazine and weekly rap radio shows, it was at the big Filipino party—debuts, weddings, graduations, christenings, birthdays—that hip-hop music ingrained itself into my musical DNA. 
 It wasn’t until later that I even knew hip-hop was called hip-hop. I got into it because all my friends and cousins were into it and we all got a rush out of listening to music with curse words. In 3rd grade I started trading cassette tapes with classmates. I discovered Too $hort, N.W.A., even local joke rap like 2 Local Boiz. In 4th grade I got suspended when my teacher caught me pulling out a copy 2 Live Crew “Me So Horny” cassette maxi-single from my backpack during class. I was sent to the principal’s office, where the vice principal lectured me on why all rap is bad, and he made me write a one-page hand-written essay regurgitating everything he just said as if I’d start believing it if I was forced to write it. Then they called my Ilocano parents to come get me. 
 I remember thinking, wow, I’ve never seen old people react like this to music before. They were trippin’ like someone stole something from them or insulted their family. Because of music. And not even music they were familiar with, but music that someone else told them was bad. That’s when I really turned it up and listened to every rap record I could. I knew that whole “rap is bad” propaganda was bullshit because I was actually learning things from these songs that I wasn’t learning in a classroom. Black History, police brutality, all the stuff Ronald Reagan’s administration was doing that wasn’t on the news. While they were saying rap was violent, I was listening to rappers unite against violence on “Self Destruction” and “We’re All In the Same Gang.” While they were saying rap was misogynistic, I was listening to 2Pac’s “Keep Ya Head Up.” 

prometheusbrown:

An excerpt from my essay “How I Started Rapping” from the newly-published Empire of Funk: Hip-hop & Representation in Filipina/o America, which you can cop here and real soon at Amazon & Barnes & Noble.

1. A Bad Rap

It’s 1987 somewhere in Waipahu. I am seven years old at a wedding and I’m dressed in slacks, a dress shirt and a pair of Adidas. The rented-out gymnasium is laid out from front to back like almost every big party I’ve been to: a food table laid out buffet style, tables and seats for eating and chilling, a dance floor that’s too big, and, at the very end of the room: a DJ behind a table standing between two large speakers flanked by his pompadour-and-rat-tailed mobile DJ crew.

I remember thinking they were the coolest Filipinos I’ve ever seen. I had been to many other Filipino parties with DJ’s but these dudes aren’t playing music from their living room speakers or using two tape decks. They have turntables and their own sound and lighting system. A banner hangs on the wall behind them repping their mobile DJ company name, probably something like “fresh” or “fusion” or something else that begins with “f.” They play all the 80s pop stuff all wedding DJ’s should play, but they’re also playing a bunch of rap. I emulate the older kids’ breakdance moves when they aren’t looking. The DJ pays Run-DMC’s “My Adidas,” and I’m like “hey, I’m wearing those!” 

This isn’t one of those “when I fell in love with hip-hop” moments. It’s simply one of hundreds of moments I remember, out of many more I’ve forgotten, where hip-hop happened to be the soundtrack of my upbringing. For many Filipino kids who grew up in 1980s America, we didn’t fall in love with hip-hop, but we fell in love while hip-hop surrounded us. Before YO! MTV Raps and The Source Magazine and weekly rap radio shows, it was at the big Filipino party—debuts, weddings, graduations, christenings, birthdays—that hip-hop music ingrained itself into my musical DNA. 

It wasn’t until later that I even knew hip-hop was called hip-hop. I got into it because all my friends and cousins were into it and we all got a rush out of listening to music with curse words. In 3rd grade I started trading cassette tapes with classmates. I discovered Too $hort, N.W.A., even local joke rap like 2 Local Boiz. In 4th grade I got suspended when my teacher caught me pulling out a copy 2 Live Crew “Me So Horny” cassette maxi-single from my backpack during class. I was sent to the principal’s office, where the vice principal lectured me on why all rap is bad, and he made me write a one-page hand-written essay regurgitating everything he just said as if I’d start believing it if I was forced to write it. Then they called my Ilocano parents to come get me. 

I remember thinking, wow, I’ve never seen old people react like this to music before. They were trippin’ like someone stole something from them or insulted their family. Because of music. And not even music they were familiar with, but music that someone else told them was bad. That’s when I really turned it up and listened to every rap record I could. I knew that whole “rap is bad” propaganda was bullshit because I was actually learning things from these songs that I wasn’t learning in a classroom. Black History, police brutality, all the stuff Ronald Reagan’s administration was doing that wasn’t on the news. While they were saying rap was violent, I was listening to rappers unite against violence on “Self Destruction” and “We’re All In the Same Gang.” While they were saying rap was misogynistic, I was listening to 2Pac’s “Keep Ya Head Up.” 

Jan 7, 2014

rapperswithcameras:

Last November, I went back to the Philippines for the first time since 1986. I was 6, my lolo had just passed away, and the Marcos dictatorship had just ended. It had been so long since then that I could no longer distinguish which images of the Philippines floating in my head were actual memories or imprints of photographs my pops took, substituted for memory.”

Read the whole photoessay Pilipinas: Nov/Dec 2013 by Prometheus Brown" at wearejuxt.com

(via prometheusbrown)

Dec 27, 2013
beatrockmusic:

This Friday - The Bar (Prometheus Brown x Bambu), Rocky Rivera, Otayo Dubb, Power Struggle, & Bwan all LIVE in Oakland!
Come out to support independent music and a good cause!

beatrockmusic:

This Friday - The Bar (Prometheus Brown x Bambu), Rocky Rivera, Otayo Dubb, Power Struggle, & Bwan all LIVE in Oakland!

Come out to support independent music and a good cause!

(via prometheusbrown)

Dec 27, 2013

New MADE IN HEIGHTS albumixtape 

"the wøøds" 

Grab it here.

Dec 10, 2013
DEC. 18MANILA!!G-STRIP (T. MORATO)Hit UrbanPinas.com for details

DEC. 18
MANILA!!
G-STRIP (T. MORATO)
Hit UrbanPinas.com for details

Nov 24, 2013

prometheusbrown:

prometheusbrown:

This song is for everybody who was sad when Manny got KO’d but still thought the memes were kinda funny

THE BAR (PROMETHEUS BROWN & BAMBU) NEW ALBUM “BARKADA” IS COMING

FIGHT NIGHT! (AFTERNOON IF YOURE IN THE PI)

(Source: thebarmusic / thebarmusic)

Nov 20, 2013

thebarmusic:

While on our last trip to Hawai’i, we linked up with the Angry Locals fam to do some recording for our upcoming album, Barkada. On some spontaneous shit, we ended up recording a remix to their track ”Locals Only,” which will be a bonus track on our album. Here it is!

New track from The Bar (Prometheus Brown & Bambu)!

(via beatrockmusic)

Nov 15, 2013
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