“Cool, guy, loud and quiet
If your head's in the way, he'll FLY IT
Don't try it, cause Jack of Spades doesn't BUY IT
He's a one-man riot
Cleaning the community, of all its debris
– The C-R-I-M-E” -- KRS-1 – Jack of Spades
As a child of the 1980s in the great Midwestern city of Cincinnati, I didn’t have the luxury of listening to the radio or attending a live concert – gospel music was the rule of our household. In the midst of the drug epidemic and raising a black male child, there was no room for error. One’s musical diet was deemed as a precursor to what could lay ahead. Prince and Michael Jackson would let you party into your 20s but there was no guarantee that they would get you out of there. The “Devil’s” music was attributed to addiction of all kinds: sex, drugs and money. At least that’s what we were told.
The cinema experience provided a different take on this rule. Movies afforded me the ability to hear popular music, not available to me by conventional means. But I would sneak and watch the latest music videos on BET’s Video Soul and then Rap City. I made it a point to know a lyric or two. The easiest way for me to break this rule was watching action films, not the PG-rated kind. Action cinema, which also consisted of a slew of Star Trek episodes, was not considered reality. I mean, could Carl Weathers in Action Jackson really run down a speeding car? As much as I was paying attention to the choreography of the car chase and fist punches, the accompanying musical score made an indelible impression. This is where I learned that heroes and villains all bopped their heads to some form of musical rhythm or beat. The composer or recording artist seamlessly made that specific music a part of who they were. I learned that every moment and every character, needs a theme song.
Music is the element of film that brings the characters and certainly the theme alive through the score, soundtrack and accompanying ambient noise. It often drives the “warning” signs of impending danger and horror. Music can be the lead into a romantic tryst. More importantly, it serves as the hero’s “call to action”. John William’s subtle build-up of violins, or Johnny Greenwood’s dramatic use of guitar, signals the movement of characters on screen and for the audience to pay attention. In Keenan Ivory Wayans cult classic, I’m Gonna Get You Sucka, that call is woven strategically throughout this seminal action comedy. “He is the Jack of Spades” (D-Nice scratches “Jack…Jack…Jack…Jack”)
Wayans’ directorial debut was filmed in the tradition of the satire comedy. This time the subject harnessed the Blaxploitation genre, complete with gritty attitude, colorful wardrobe (Jack’s leather jacket of “war” emblems) and actors of that generation. Again, Mr. Big aka The Man aka Whitey was at the center of the plot. Wayans played the “new to the hero business” Jack Spade, who seeks out an old school community hero in John Slade, brought to life by the cool and calm, Bernie Casey. The drama unfolds with a homicide of Jack’s brother, Junebug (too many gold chains), Jack’s homecoming (Ja’Net DuBois skillfully plays the no-nonsense matriarch) and then the kidnapping of Junebug’s girlfriend (Dawn Lewis), who has feelings for Jack. Heroes are brought out of retirement (Isaac Hayes, Jim Brown, Antonio Fargas, and Steve James) and alliances are formed. The story is threaded with biting satirical commentary on the black cultural experience of the 70s and 80s. The heroes of Casey’s generation provided the first of the “black heroic” soundtrack experience. Super Fly, Trouble Man, and the OG of soundtracks, Shaft, reflected the soulful experience of the 70s. The lyrics and rhythmic beats delved deep into a people coming out of the Civil Rights movement. At that moment, black people just wanted to breathe. Jazz music served as a precursor for this type of scoring element in film. Sorry, Elvis fans. Characters were not only known for their colorful dialogue but for this music of power that accompanied it. I’m Gonna Get You Sucka provided a transition of that power from the soulful to the newly established hip hop genre. When Casey casually utters the lines midway through the movie with band in tow, “It’s my theme music, every good hero should have some,” the soundtrack not only comes into play as an auditory device but a visual one as well (Somebody in my crew was always MC'ing or Beatboxing to set the mood for activities). The interplay between soul and hip hop takes shape. And hip hop for me was the soundtrack of action and bravado.
Again, by the time I saw I’m Gonna Get You Sucka, I had been privy to the Star Wars, Raiders of the Lost Ark, and Mad Max franchises. The scores were great but had the feeling of what was supposed to be in the film. As I watched the story unfold in I’m Gonna Get You Sucka, I noticed a dramatic interplay underneath the visuals – the score would switch from the 70s era disco and dance to the hard hitting bass beats of hip hop. Upon subsequent viewings, I found that this was intentional. These visuals and the score brought forth the basics of social commentary. How does one generation pass on the lessons learned? Will the new generation accept? Check out the Black Lives Matter movement for a clarification. For me, at this time in my development, hip hop provided power in thought. Power in words. Power in action. It made me want to move (I could only bust a two-step then, so dancing doesn’t count). Music Videos, my safe haven at that time, were kinetic, full of fast paced cuts and moving shots. Pairing that music with any action film was unthinkable, but just like the jazz scores in the early 50s and 60s, movies eventually succumbed to the energy that pumped life into the on-screen experience. I was not a critical thinker. I just wanted to dream. I just knew what I liked and what made the film move. Even though the movies were entertainment, the music wanted me to believe that this was somehow, somewhere real life. Hip hop made the movie “reality” and it soon became the soundtrack of my life.
“Again we start, let me say my part
About the only guy who has some heart
About the only guy who has some heart
It took some time for the heart to come
But it's HERE, and everybody's in fear.”
Like the majority of action films, Jack’s journey ends in triumph and the community is at peace. The last sequence reveals Slade passing the baton, in this instance the baton meaning music, to Jack or should I
say Jack finally steps up and takes it. As with Slade earlier, Jack is greeted by his own band, Boogie Down Productions, led by one of the most iconic MC’s at that time or for any time for that matter, KRS-1. After Jack repeats Slade’s advice of hero’s having theme music, the beat drops and Jack’s band follows him on the way out. This last vestige of music also followed me off the screen and into my life. That was my experience on what theme music could offer. At that time I was learning the lessons of life’s potential offering, from a Midwest perspective: a college education, good paying job and nice family. Only as a black male, I had to switch up that notion up and I realized what I could offer life: The chance to contribute. The opportunity to create. The feeling of responsibility that I could influence one person’s life, all to the ever-present backdrop of my own theme music.
Mario Tahi Lathan is a filmmaker residing in Los Angeles at the moment. When he isn’t re-watching episodes of Mickey Mouse with his son, Mario is often studying the culture of all things jazz. His latest film This Is The Bash (www.thebashfilm.com) on Haitian jazz sensation, Jowee Omicil, is touring the festival circuit.
Mario Tahi Lathan
