Dear Daniel Dumile a.k.a. MF Doom a.k.a. Zev Love X a.k.a. King Geedorah a.k.a. Metal Fingers a.k.a. Viktor Vaughn a.k.a. Ducktor Doom a.k.a. Victor von Doom a.k.a. Mr. Soft Taco a.k.a. Mr. 78′ Cutlass a.k.a. “That Guy Who Enjoys Fingerpainting.”
I’m writing this as a concerned artist, business-owner and generally even-keeled loather of all things douche-like.
It came to my attention in late 2007 that you pulled a series of no-shows and Super Dave-esque stunt double lip-syncing fiascos in Pomona, San Diego, San Francisco, Rock The Bells in San Bernardino and then in Atlanta. The latter saw the crowd throwing beer at your body double, who subsequently exited the stage only to steal all the merch money and door receipts, insuring noone would be granted a refund for your clone’s piss-poor Milli Vanilli routine. Classy.
The whole thing was shrug-inducing because I’m not a huge fan of your body of work, so pardon my inability to completely connect with the disdain of someone paying $25 dollars to see a slightly rotund, middle aged man in a dirty Gladiator mask stand around onstage and talk into a microphone only to be duped into watching a presumably younger, slightly-less rotund man in a dirty Gladiator mask stand around onstage and pretend to talk into a microphone. As the old folks say, “buyer beware”.
It was shrug-inducing, that is, until someone passed me a link to a discussion in which a talent buyer for a well-known Cali venue clearly states;
“…needless to say, hiphop will not be taking place at the venue again (we will still book alternative artists like sage, atmosphere, subtle, all through legit agencies that we regularly do business with).”
Ok, now wait a minute.
You pissing on your most dedicated fans by cheating them out of their hard-earned cash, while being completely foul, was ultimately no business of mine. At worst it might create a small conundrum for Doom fans torn between investing money in your possibly fraudulent live show or using that loot to re-up on another sack of Northern Lights kush. Not a tough call, I’d assume.
But on the flipside, seeing talent buyers publically saying they’ll only book “alternative artists” like Sage and Atmosphere (Holy awkward racial undertones, Batman) in the future because of your method of handling business? Now I have an issue.
See, people don’t buy much music anymore. Touring is what allows artists who aren’t supervillainous children of Latverian gypsies bent on world domination to meet our fans, fuel our art and put money into our projects and pockets. As part of an “indie” act that operates in the same ever-narrowing circles as you, I can definitely say the ability to book proper gigs with reputable promoters and venue operators is becoming more and more scarce by the month, especially with the poor reputation live hip-hop has for professionalism and punctuality as well as the economic woes of many venues and agencies. The recession is a sumbitch.
So, if any artist pisses off these promoters, fans or venue owners then ultimately they are fucking with my money.
I thought about discussing this last fall, but I decided against it in an attempt to stay away from negative energy. Fast-forward to August 9th 2008, and apparently “you” (I use the term loosely at this point) were at it again, having been re-booked at Rock The Bells in San Bernardino (How does that even happen?) and subsequently getting booed. Again.
Now, surely there is some type of explanation for all of this. Although it isn’t an excuse to be deceptive, some said you were dangerously ill. Personal health is no joke. Your label denied it, though, and continued pushing your tour dates and new remixes of your old product. Some people, like the only man to ever lie to our fans about our involvment in a live show just to sell tickets, one Mr. Jason Swartz (who also happens to be your booking agent) claimed in the Village Voice that this fuckery was a breath of fresh air and “just style”. Yes, the same Mr. Swartz that intentionally misled our fans, the local promoters and operators of The Fox Theatre in Boulder back in 2005 in order to put a couple extra dollars in his pocket. Hmm, sounds familiar.
But I digress. Maybe you had a string of family emergencies. Maybe you developed consistent, unshakable Traveler’s Diarrhea. Maybe you were fed up with curly-haired, New Era-wearing snowboarders asking you to sign their $300 Doom SB Dunks. Maybe you simply got tired of the smell inside of that mask. Who knows.
Yeah, you’re the “villain” or whatever gimmick you use to sell records. I’ve even seen a couple people calling this fiasco “brilliant”. Oh, the sweet Rap Snack™-flavored irony of anti-mainstream types letting this slide by deeming it “genius marketing”. Genius marketing? Beanie Babies, Hannah Montana, Girls Gone Wild. Those are examples of genius marketing. This looks like a lazy or medically incapacitated individual duping his most dedicated fans repeatedly to the tune of a few thousand dollars while those that also stand to profit (read: labels, friends and booking agents) scuttle around attempting to make excuses for him before the loot dries up.
Whatever the case may be, I implore you and anyone involved in this to stop screwing your fans and your peers and get your ducks in a row. Don’t make me throw on some blue stretch leotards and put out a solo record.
Your Friend In Jesus,
Kno of CunninLynguists
Kno Vs. MF Doom
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