Photo credits: Łukasz Nowak & Andrew Harvey
It was well before dawn on the morning of Tuesday, April 30, 2024, when I saw Dynamite MC’s Instagram post about the passing of MC Conrad. I was surprised by my own visceral reaction, as my breath seemed to jump out of my chest at what I was looking at. Since discovering drum & bass in 1995, there have been a number of noteworthy deaths in the community. But this one hit me in an entirely different way. To properly put into words the impact that Conrad has had on me as an MC, I knew that I would have to take some time to gather my thoughts. So, it only makes sense that I start at the beginning.
I was into jungle early on, but it was the breakbeat futurism put forth by labels like Metalheadz and Good Looking Records that I truly fell in love with. On Logical Progression, that seminal first GLR compilation, MC Conrad’s vocal on PFM – Western was the first time I ever truly connected with an MC in drum & bass. Unlike, say, GQ, Fearless, or Stevie Hyper D, Conrad channeled the hip hop I grew on as an American skate rat.
I could relate to his rhyme scheme. I was enamored with how his live vocals sounded as if they were part of the tunes themselves. At the same time, I found the LTJ Bukem and MC Conrad mix, Promised Land, Vol. 1, which I found myself listening to incessantly. This, to me, is what MCing in drum & bass had the potential to be.
Logical Progression 2 cemented that musical worldview. In a nutshell, this was the sound of the future. Multiple genres of black musical forms, jazz, funk, soul, and hip hop, viewed through a lens of space age breakbeats and digital innovation. And Conrad and DRS were literally describing what that future was going to look and feel like, and how the music would take over our bodies, minds, and spirits. Their use of delay and reverb effects gave their voices a distantly dreamy, cosmic quality, making them the narrators of a musical journey that was utterly new and exhilarating.
1998 was when I first picked up a microphone to lay my voice over music. I had never rapped before, nor did I ever aspire to. But, being a DJ was an expensive endeavor, and I wanted to take part in drum & bass music in any way that I could. I loved words, and I enjoyed writing, so why not give this MCing thing a whirl? During a ten-minute stint on the mic at a strangely set up, university sponsored, “rave” event, I emulated a vaguely GQ-ish vocal delivery that I immediately knew was simply not going to happen again. It was a style that wasn’t natural to me, so I decided that I had to work in the style of what I knew, hip hop, and MC Conrad was my template as to how to blend it with drum & bass. The day I purchased my first new microphone, a Shure Beta 58, I also bought a Boss Digital Delay pedal, because I wanted to get as close as I could to the vocal effects that he used. It would allow me to sit back in the music, rather than be front and center on the stage, perfect for my sometimes-paralyzing social anxiety. My DJ, Steve Cable, happened to DJ in the style of Bukem, with multiple fader cuts, and long, smooth mixes. We fancied ourselves an American counterpart to the iconic Good Looking ambassadors, and we felt like we were pretty good at it.
While my style began to evolve on its own, it remained firmly rooted in the foundation that Conrad laid down. I still remember the first, overtly Conradian verse I ever wrote, and I would occasionally roll it out when the vibe was right. I took that vocal style into different iterations of dnb, and I found myself on the mic for people like Goldie, Craze, Roc Raida, John B, Seba, and, Grooverider, convinced that the Conrad vibe was THE vibe. I was even lucky enough to open for Bukem and Conrad four or five times.
To this day, I walk in the vocal path that he laid down. And now, to know that my microphone role model is gone, is just bizarre, frankly.
Eventually, Good Looking disintegrated, with Bukem and Conrad going their separate ways. Years later, I interviewed Conrad on my Kool London show, The Vocal. During an expansive conversation, he spoke on that part of his life with candor.
For the most part, he had famously avoided interviews. So, I was a bit surprised at how open and honest he was, even when it came to difficult subjects. It remains my most listened-to interview for good reason: he revealed much of himself, giving people a glimpse of the man behind that iconic baritone.
Afterwards, we would talk periodically, usually for several hours at a time. It was always fascinating to talk to someone who helped shape my musical outlook, and I’m so glad we were able to connect on a human level. His big, round, laugh, and meandering tales of musical history, are something I will truly miss. I can only imagine the pain being felt by those who knew and loved him, and my heart goes out to all of them. For it is the living that must shoulder and appreciate the legacy of the dead, as well as the loss of their loved one.
Rest in eternal power, my friend. And thank you for showing me the way.
-Valiant Emcee
Prophecy FM, Toronto
