The Look

The design of the elbow pads is nice and sleek, with the imprint of CypherStyles at the top of the gear. The material feels comfortable – it has an Under Armour feel, keeping your elbows feeling cool. Black looks good on the gear, although it would be much nicer to have other color options.

The Fit

One problem I have with these elbows pads is it’s not a one size fits all – at least not a very comfortable one. You can work the elbow pad up your arm if you just try hard enough, but the size that it comes in is a little too tight. Everyone in my crew managed to get it on, no matter the size of each person’s arm, but the problem was that it became a matter of how long they were able to keep it on before their arms went numb. (That’s what she said. Also, CypherStyles’s other “Primo” elbow pad is adjustable for those with bigger arms. – Ed.)

The Lowdown

The pad’s protection is very noticeable, keeping your forearms more durable during practice. For those who normally don’t do blow up moves, the sense of security will get you attempting things you normally wouldn’t. Thankfully, this gear will keep you going a couple more tries where b-boys usually quit because of pain.

This gear is also very slide-friendly, meaning with the right momentum, you can easily slide a foot or two. In fact, the material makes it so prone to sliding that I would not recommend this for competitions. The slick padding’s inconsistent grip on the floor can make it risky to try to land clean freezes or elbow tracks. You might end up with too much momentum and lose the move, which happened to me several time at practice (though it could be because I practice on tile). There’s not a lot I can say about spinning because I fail at spinning on my forearms, although I can imagine finding balance for the spin would be very difficult because of the slickness of the material.

The elbow pad itself is not very durable. When I mess around with the material, it feels like it could easily rip apart. I haven’t used it too long and have already gotten got a slight tear.

The Bottom Line

I like it, but I’m not going to recommend it.

In my opinion, it is pretty pricy to be investing in something like this. You can grab some Nike arm bands, mix and match with your clothing with the variety of colors, and still somewhat protect your arm at a fraction of the price.

It is really fun to use – if you want one to have one, then go ahead and one. But you don’t need this to learn a move or improve your overall b-boying, and it’s not ideal for battles.

C+

Buy one for $14.95 here.

Buy two for $24.95 here.

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1. Top Clips of the 2000s: Physicx’s Elbow Spins
2. Download B-Boy DVDs from Cypherstyles.com
3. Headspin Hat with Triple Padding

▲ is a short Breakumentary series examining different perspectives of b-boying.

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▲ is a short Breakumentary series examining different perspectives of b-boying.

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Luckily, the calls don’t come from telemarketers or prerecorded messages soliciting money. They come from people who want to tell Hudson what they’re wearing.

It’s usually something red.

Hudson, a 41-year-old Wolverhampton resident, still can’t wrap her head around it.

“I’ll get b-girls phoning me if there’s a b-girl battle in, say, Germany, France, or America,” she says. “[They say,] ‘We’re about to go into a battle – got any tips for us?’ I say, ‘Who’s this?’ ‘I’m a b-girl, and we’re wearing red.’ I think, wow. And to tell you the truth, I don’t know what to think of it. It’s just something I need to get used to.”

The calls started about five years ago, when a friend happened to ask Hudson if she had ever Googled the phrase “B-girl Bubbles” – a name Hudson hadn’t heard in years.

As it turns out, b-boys, b-girls, and DJ’s were blowing up a UK-based b-boy forum asking if anyone knew the whereabouts of the legendary pioneer known as Bubbles. Intrigued, Hudson replied – that had been her b-girl name when she was a child.

After exchanging numbers with a few of the forum members, Hudson spoke to one of the b-girls who had been searching for her. The b-girl explained that b-girls around the world — especially those in the UK — wore red because they saw Hudson as an inspiration.

“Because of me? Why?” Hudson asked.

The b-girl’s answer was straightforward.

“Because of Electro Rock.”

Though not nearly as well known as Style Wars or Wild Style, Electro Rock is generally regarded as one of the UK’s seminal hip-hop films.

Taking a peek into the UK scene’s early days, the film revolves around the happenings of the homonymous festival at London’s Hippodrome in March of 1985. Radio personality Mike Allen hosted the showcase, which featured a cameo by hip-hop legend Afrika Bambaataa.

Electro Rock is better remembered, however, for highlighting some of the UK’s earliest hip-hop pioneers, including a group of kids from Wolverhampton introduced simply as “the b-boys.”

There were times we went to the club and couldn’t perform and couldn’t get in because we were black kids. They saw us as trouble kids, street kids, ghetto kids.

In the documentary, the scene plays out like a sequence from any young dancer’s dream: the crew, mostly clad in blue jumpsuits, steps on stage into the flashing lights and begins a popping routine.

As the dancers begin to uprock, Allen’s voice abruptly cuts in over the thumping Willesden Dodgers track.

“Hey – check the one in red. It’s a girl!”

The boys’ routine ends, their blue-clad bodies tangled in a knot of limbs. Bubbles steps toward the audience in a glow of red, arms outstretched to snatch the audience’s attention from the air.

And then she transforms into a buzzing red blur – a furious funnel of windmills and backspins.

Cut to audience members looking ecstatic – a response still echoed by YouTube commenters today:

OMG!!

This bgirl got some dope power mills. Is she still breakin? And this was 1986? Dopest i? have seen for bgirl windmills, as good as most top bboys i have ever seen. Wicked!
Anyone got more clips of her? Want to know more.

omg was that giirl wearing a skirt!!!??!? wowo that was crazy insane i never seen everythin happen sooooo fast wowo bet they were? definitly breathless..

And just like that, with a nine-word introduction and one run, Hudson effortlessly made the transition from being mistaken as some street boy to becoming a world-famed pioneer.

It’s an inspiring story. There’s just one problem: that’s not really how it happened.

History – especially hip-hop history – has a funny way of making everything seem like it was carefully organized and planned.

Except the experts say that Grand Wizard Theodore accidentally invented the scratch when he absentmindedly moved a record while his mother chastised him for his loud music. Supposedly, Don Campbell invented the entire style of locking when he failed at imitating his friends’ dance moves. And legend has it that Crazy Legs unintentionally rolled into a continuous backspin – a move that evolved into what is now called a windmill.

Hudson, too, had no intentions of becoming a legend or making any kind of statement. She just liked to dance.

The daughter of Jamaican immigrants, Hudson didn’t expect for an American fad to place her in the annals of history. As an African Caribbean in England, she had enough of an identity crisis as it was.

“We didn’t fit in. Our parents told us we were from the UK. On the street, they called us Jamaicans. It was frustrating,” Hudson says. “There were times we went to the club and couldn’t perform and couldn’t get in because we were black kids. They saw us as trouble kids, street kids, ghetto kids. We had to go through barriers and boundaries.”

Hip-hop caused internal struggles as well. Growing up with idols who were more Bob Marley and Jimmy Cliff than Afrika Bambaataa and Kool Herc, Hudson had a hard time justifying the new culture to her peers – or to herself.

“For us to come into hip-hop, people from the Jamaican culture thought we were crazy,” Hudson says. “They couldn’t understand what we were doing. We used to call it space music. ‘Planet Rock’ – can you imagine how strange that was for us? We couldn’t understand those lyrics.”

Even the fashion was alluringly impractical.

While Hudson and her brothers sought to emulate the fashion of American hip-hoppers – with goose down jackets, flashy belt buckles, Kangol hats, sports tracksuits, and Cazal glasses – they’d change in the bathrooms once it came time to dance. The clothes they wore to impress were too uncomfortable and, except for knock-offs, too expensive to justify ruining.

“We weren’t used to these fat laces because they didn’t keep the trainers firm on our feet,” Hudson says. “Adidas are the most uncomfortable trainers I’ve ever worn.”

Over time, Hudson and her crewmates – many of whom were her brothers – did manage to win sponsorships and gigs. But, like the clothes she had her brothers wore to clubs, the prospect of being a big-time b-girl was more a persona than a reality.

At performances, Hudson and her brothers rarely made over a few pounds each. Since she was under 18 for most of her dancing career, Hudson was lucky to even enter most of the venues where she performed. When she did, she worried that her parents would get in trouble for negligence.

Even Electro Rock was supposed to be just another smalltime gig – a chance to have some fun and make a few pounds.

Hudson was only 14 when she and her brothers auditioned for a music video. But the fateful shoot ended up being something entirely different.

“I just went thinking me and my brothers were gonna do some filming for a pop video, not knowing I was coming to some big nightclub with thousands of people there,” Hudson says. “I was nervous because I had never seen so much hip-hop in my life. You’re talking a little girl at the time who didn’t have no idea about the hip-hop culture. All I wanted to do was dance … We were street kids. We wasn’t professional performers.”

So, hearts racing, they danced. They were introduced as the Wolverhampton B-Boys (not “the b-boys”). They danced for 15 minutes to a Newcleus song (which was later parsed down to a little over two minutes, then dubbed with the Willesden Dodgers song).

And those legendary nine words?

Hudson didn’t hear them during the performance, or at any time that night.

I don’t see myself as a legend or a pioneer. I’m only focused on raising my family.

“At the time, people thought I was a little boy,” Hudson says. “It was only after when they was editing the Electro Rock music video, when I signed a contract, I signed a female name. It was only then they realized I was a girl.”

The adrenaline flow slowing after the show, Hudson and her brothers rushed straight home. Big as the performance was, it was still just another performance. It was late, and they were still young.

Hudson continued to dance until she actually became old enough to enter those same clubs legally.

Then, after only four years of dancing, she quit.

Over the course of the next two decades, responsibilities like school and parenthood slowly blanketed memories of red tracksuits and windmills.

For a hip-hop and b-girl pioneer, Hudson still doesn’t listen to much hip-hop. She does not live the “break life.”

The b-boy anthems have long since faded away to make room for classic reggae – or the sound of her son playing Playstation 3. Hudson prefers to stay in, even when there are b-boy events taking place nearby.

In her free time, she trains as a martial artist with a focus on Thai boxing. (“I love dancing around the ring – fool can never figure me out or catch me,” she says. “It gives me the same energy as b-boying but with more contact with your opponent.”)

But the bulk of Hudson’s time goes towards being a mother and working or studying to become a medical scientist.

“I don’t see myself as a legend or a pioneer,” Hudson says via a Skype call. “I’m only focused on raising my family. I’m just a career woman. I’m a mother. I think that’s how it is – just fitting in. I quite enjoy going to work, meeting people, meeting patients. I’ve never seen myself as a b-girl.”

Hudson’s fans across the globe, however, beg to differ.

After her twenty-year hiatus from dancing, Hudson learned that she had a fanbase that didn’t just think of her as a b-girl pioneer. Somewhere along the line, people had begun to call her the UK’s first b-girl.

It was like Electro Rock all over again – it wasn’t what she thought she had had signed up for, but she rolled with it anyway. Except this time, it was on a much larger scale.

“Many pioneers come to me, saying, ‘You are the first; you are the queen.’ I just take it on board and get on with it,” Hudson admits. “No one’s really ever said, ‘You’re not the first.’ It’d be difficult to find out who was the first. Normally, if [a craze] hits London first, it’ll hit in Wolverhampton in maybe two weeks. So I can say I was the first b-girl who rocked windmills the way I did. Or is it because I’m the first to hit the media like this?”

Her MySpace page is a little blunter:

“MY LIFE IS NOT ABOUT BEEN THE FIRST UK B GIRL ANYMORE. ITS ABOUT ME EDUCATING MY SON TO BE A STRONG BLACK MAN…AND NOT A VICTIM TO THIS SYSTEM!!! THIS IS WHAT I AM ABOUT!”

Luckily for those who seek advice, Hudson doesn’t dismiss fans with a “Sorry, I don’t really care about being the first b-girl. In fact, I don’t really care about being a b-girl, period.”

In person, she lacks much of the pretense and jadedness that can creep into the voices of established dancers.

Unlike many b-boys and b-girls from generations past, Hudson doesn’t have any problems with the new generation of YouTube dancers. She feels that b-boying is on the right path with the media attention it’s getting – though she believes it remains the individual dancer’s responsibility to protect the culture from exploitation.

And it’s not a rare occasion that Hudson herself will browse the Internet for new b-boy styles, occasionally even giving tips to new dancers seeking help.

“I love watching footage of people [dancing] in their houses,” she says. “It reminds me of my days when we were doing it in my house.”

Hudson first learned to dance from her brothers, adopting bits of their style and moves into her own flavor. With the Internet, she says younger dancers have the advantage of being able to learn directly from the active founders of the dance.

“Don’t just go on the Internet and find an article and believe that article,” she says. “There’s a saying that a man without knowledge is a tree without roots. If a tree don’t have roots, it cannot bear fruit – it cannot grow and blossom and reach out its branches. If the b-boy don’t have this information, he can’t reach out, he can’t blossom, he can’t grow in a b-boy culture. He has to go to the founders. The true pioneers that still love the culture – they are still there.”

As it turns out, Hudson even has a number of nephews, nieces, and cousins of her own who are getting into b-boying. They know her as their auntie rather than as Bubbles the pioneer. She laughs as she points out that she’s more likely to learn moves from them than to teach them.

But if they were to ask for advice, she’d first give them the same, borderline-off-putting tip she gives to any b-boys and b-girls who take the time to ask:

Get a profession you can fall back on. Go to university and train in a profession where you know if b-boying and the art world don’t work for you, you have something else you can fall back on.

“Get a profession you can fall back on,” Hudson says. “Go to university and train in a profession where you know if b-boying and the art world don’t work for you, you have something else you can fall back on.

“I thought was gonna be a dancer for the rest of my life,” she explains. “We have dreams as young people. I’ve always been involved in the medical field, and I look back now and wonder, why didn’t I finish it?  I was so caught up in the dance.

“Take three years out. Get a degree, a diploma, a profession — one that you can take anywhere in this world,” Hudson continues. “When I made a comeback in 2005, b-boys and b-girls was telling me their profession was b-boying. Now, b-boys and b-girls are business people. I had never heard that before. I’d come to a new culture. A profession is something where you are trained to be an expert at what you do. You can take it anywhere in the world. I’m not saying they can’t be professional b-boys and b-girls – what I want to say to them now is, get a profession that you’ll have when you’re 70.”

Hudson doesn’t seem to intend for her advice to be pessimistic or discouraging. She’s just recommending what seemed most practical in her situation. Though she doesn’t consider herself to be very “hip-hop,” she manifests its unofficial motto – take what you have, however limited it may be, and use it to express yourself.

It’s no different than the perspective she has when it comes to b-girls standing at a crossroads of dancing like a guy or a girl. Again, Hudson’s advice is a little bit out of left field.

“How I see the dance is you perform to your ability and how your body responds to how it moves,” she says. “I didn’t want to be a boy. I didn’t think I was a boy. I was just dancing, and people thought I was a little boy. It’s just the energy and movements I had. I put all that aside and say, just dance and enjoy it. And whatever category people put you in, so be it.”

She backpedals a bit and gives herself a little credit.

“When I see b-girls now, and they look like b-boys in how they move, I have to give credit there,” she says. “If you move like a b-boy, you’ve got energy, power, structure, and control. That, for me, is the definition of b-boying.”

Even with her busy schedule, Hudson occasionally comes back to the video that made her famous.

When she encounters fans asking for windmill help, she’ll refer to the clip to demonstrate her technique (the secret to getting power is in the hips, she says). But it’s still a bit disorienting for her to watch.

“When I look back at this clip of Electro Rock, it really doesn’t seem like I’m looking at myself dancing at all,” she says. “I’m trying to get used to the idea of what it all means. I just see a little girl in a red tracksuit. I don’t see myself as B-Girl Bubbles no more. She was from the ‘80s. This is Hanifa today. This is Hanifa.”

It’s not to say that Hudson has lost her passion for dance. She still counts dancing as one of her favorite hobbies. Hudson says she and her son enjoy having b-boy sessions at their home.

She just no longer identifies with the “b-girl” title. Her body no longer moves the way it used to; her knees hurt sometimes. Passing years and having a kid have limited her flexibility and her arsenal of moves.

“The first thing [people] ask me is, ‘Can you still do your windmills?’ I say, ‘Yeah, but they’re not as fast as they used to be,’” Hudson says. “Even when I do windmills, I get dizzy. But I can still hold my private parts and do windmills.”

She laughs. “Somebody’s gotta hold them.”

And for the most part, the footage makes up the majority of small pool of remnants that document her legendary past.

She still keeps a small gallery of the clothes she wore over 20 years ago: her infamous tennis skirt, her Nike Impax (or her Toprocks, as she calls them), and her blue jumpsuit.

And, of course, there’s her red jumpsuit from Electro Rock – the one that’s still spurring b-girls to call her, asking her for advice and telling her that they want to pay tribute.

“Wear what you feel comfortable in,” Hudson tells them. “It’s nice of you to do that, man, it’s good – but make sure you’re comfortable in what you’re wearing.”

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The floor was unforgivingly hard, and you went home with rips on your palm if you didn’t learn quickly where not to do ‘90s on the crumbling tiles. And the acoustics? They made “Apache” sound like it was recorded by a Mariachi band in a tin can. No, what made The Point such an ill practice spot weren’t the things you normally think of like nice floors and acoustics. It was two other things. First—no lie—the park district gave out free cookies every Tuesday and Thursday. Straight up. Second, to get to The Point you had to walk under a massive highway through a graffiti-covered tunnel that felt like something from a Mario Brothers secret hip-hop underworld. When you popped up on the other side, left behind you was the City of Wind, and up ahead was a refuge of cookies and beats.

The Point in Chicago shows that there’s a lot that goes into a good practice spot, some obvious and some not-so-obvious. And while some people are content to practice just anywhere, the topic deserves some thought because where you dance will affect how you dance.

For instance, although the gymnasiums that some people practice in are helpful because they have things soft, bouncy, and fluffy so that you don’t wreck yourself trying to imitate your favorite Korean b-boy, a gym has about as much soul as a your grandmother’s funeral. Sure, dance studios are helpful for their strong sound systems and mirrors, but overdependence on mirrors will make your crew look like extras from Step Up 3 when you finally decide to throw that routine in competition. Everybody now: “five, six, seven, eight!” Plus, if you’ve been hanging out in dance studios too much, when the floor gets slippery at Circle Kingz, you’re going to look a) mad sloppy, b) like you have no arsenal of moves, or c) like a shook one holding up the wall. The bottom line is this: practice just anywhere, and you might turn into one of those soulless crews who never quite overstand that b-boying is first and foremost a dance.

Suffice it to say that gym practices are basically like gym class: cool kids holding back and herbs trying too hard.

Now that we’ve gotten that out the way, you’d be wise to take some cues from the backbone of hip-hop and start digging for the perfect spot. There are the massive, open gym practice spots across the country that come and go, and a quick search on Internet forums can usually turn them up pronto. While these may appear attractive, let’s be honest and admit the days of battles popping off and beef getting started or squashed in such spaces are pretty much over. Everyone is “cool” with one another, not to mention they’re saving any real moves for Saturday when they’ll inevitably meet in the first round of the battle—or should I say competition—in the neighboring state. Suffice it to say that gym practices are basically like gym class: cool kids holding back and herbs trying too hard.

Not to mention, with so many toys practicing L-kicks on the side of the gym, its only matter of time before you catch one to the skull. That’s why there are the hidden gem practice spots that should be kept for just you and your crew: the V.I.P. lanes upstairs at the bowling ally; the outdoor concert pavilion where the summer symphony plays; the punk record store with the little wooden stage for shows.

You get spots like these by practicing what Bobito Garcia called the lost art of hip-hop: search and discovery. Places like these give your crew important privacy and freedom to set the vibe you want. You’re no longer subject to the suspect iTunes library of whoever brought the boombox. You can perfect new moves, get your commandos tight, and even stick that L-kick so you won’t be knocking fools out—if that’s your thing.

Securing such a spot once you find it can be a challenge. Strategically using that one person in the crew who has the “professional” job (the teacher, paralegal, social worker, journalist) can help. Even though you know that he or she is just as big of a kuncklehead as you, having that person advocate for the group from that professional position can put the owner of the space at ease or even feel good about letting you practice. For instance, a lot of people today think of hip-hop as this multicultural, multigenerational racial utopia where everyone holds hands and sings “Rappers’ Delight.” Yeah, it’s an exaggeration, but if it helps to show that b-boying does, in fact, bring together different types of people, then do it.

A lot of people today think of hip-hop as this multicultural, multigenerational racial utopia where everyone holds hands and sings “Rappers’ Delight.”

When you do find that gem of a practice spot, it’s important to protect and police it. This doesn’t mean handing out beatdowns to anyone who comes through who you don’t know. But what it does mean is looking out for any mothergrubber who might come through the spot and break a window, tag the wall, be anything but polite to a security guard, or light up a blunt. And guilt works by association, so it doesn’t matter if you know said mothergrubber or not. If anything undesirable happens in your practice spot, hip-hop will be blamed and you’ll be back to breaking in the mall. Plus, don’t forget the value of politeness.

When the spot doesn’t belong to you, treat the security guard or person who could kick you out like a king or queen (not Zulu). Bring him a soda. Smile at him. Say “Hello.” Promptly leave when you’re supposed to. If it is in a public space, make sure you’re not too intimidating to passer-bys. If people giggle and say, “Oh yeah, there are those crazy rap-dance-fight kids who are here on Wednesdays!” and then go about their businesses and forget about you, perfect.

All in all, this take on practice spots can be summarized in two of the illest bars spit over a Primo beat. On “The Best Part,” J-Live let everyone know,

J-Live got it right. Whatever it is that you practice, where you do it and what you do it on it matters. The Point in Chicago—with its bad floor, horrible acoustics, free cookies, and graffiti tunnel—definitely qualified as “cheap shit.” But when you dance on the cheap shit, every other b-boy is bound to slip.

Bustopher Jonez is the Distinguished Chair of Knowledge at Le Universidad de Sesion 31. When not engineering epiphanies at his blog—www.illdeposition31.blogspot.com—he can be found slamming laptops shut on the scrolling fingers of suspect DJs.

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Please note: this is not a comprehensive list, nor is it meant to be.

As perpetual students of the dance and culture, we know there will never be any history or list that fully satisfies everyone in the b-boy community. In other words, we’re not perfect, and neither is this list. We know that.
So, instead of trying to achieve the impossible and please everyone, we decided to keep in the spirit of the holidays and make it a family affair. We asked some of our b-boy family and acquaintances to chime in with their personal favorites.

We tried to keep it diverse, asking b-boys, promoters, DJs and even our own readers. We also allowed each person to use whatever criteria they wanted, ranging from battle records to influence to fame and beyond. Each list is purely subjective. Collaboration was minimal.

The results? Well, you can check them out below. But see this not as a definitive, end-all list, and more as a springboard for further discussion into the next decade. Feel free chime in with your own thoughts and lists in the comments section.

Thanks for reading, and happy holidays.

ALPHATRION – RISEN FROM THE ASHES

Photo provided by Tammy Tso

10. Godoyski (Rock So Fresh Crew) – When I first started b-boying, I didn’t really have a full appreciation of what you could do with footwork or how good it could look until I saw Godoyski get down (He was then a member of Sound Savages in Atlanta). After practicing with him a few times and getting to know him, I started leaning more towards footwork and haven’t looked back since. He and his crew are still doing a great job of showing just how good footwork can look.

9. Doeboi Fresh (Risen from the Ashes) – I saved the last two spots for two b-boys who were important to me personally. The first is Doeboi Fresh from my own crew, Risen from the Ashes. Doe’s one of the most underrated b-boys in the South. Those who have come to Atlanta and seen him dance can attest to the fact that he’s dope but he’s also one of the nicest people on the planet. He’s consistently clean and always entertaining to watch. I’m not just saying any of this because he’s on my crew. He could leave RftA tomorrow and call me a loser and I’d still think the same thing (except the nicest guy on the planet part).

8. Skeme Richards/DJ Basic – I wanted to include a DJ, but it was a toss-up between these two. Both play in a style that I really enjoy, going outside of just the break and actually using an entire song to give b-boys new things to rock. They’re also constantly digging and bringing new things to the table.

7. Cros1 – Created the concept of the b-boy entrepreneur… promoting, a clothing line, a series of shops, DVD’s, etc. He created a template that a lot of other b-boys have started to follow to varying degrees of success. Aside from that, he was the founder of Freestyle Session, without a doubt one of the most successful events in the world.

6. Dyzee (Supernaturalz) – Although he wasn’t a major inspiration for my personal style, I always appreciated what he brought to the dance in terms of threading and intricate flows using your body in interesting ways. I also think he deserves some recognition for his judging system, which might still have some kinks, but brings something new to competitions.

5. Free (Circle of Fire) – One of the few b-boys who I think can really meld multiple styles of dance into something truly unique and enjoyable to watch. You can see elements of b-boying, house, capoeira, and jazz, and it all melds together in a way that allows him to express himself better than a lot of other dancers.

4. YNOT (Rock Steady Crew) – He’s the reason a lot of people are playing with the beat more. Before him, there weren’t a lot people hitting anything other than the most obvious aspects of a song (snare, stabs, etc). Now people are using guitar riffs, horns, basslines and everything, all thanks to clips of him in toprock battles or on stage at RSC Anniversary.

3. RoxRite (Break Disciples/Renegades) – Probably the cleanest b-boy of the decade. His freeze stacks are always sharp, and I don’t know if I’ve ever seen him screw up.

2. Abstrak (Skill Methodz) – The definition of flow when it comes to b-boying. Everything he does is fluid, and I’m always surprised by what he comes up with in his runs.

1. Megus (Boogie Brats) – Pioneered a whole style of b-boying and was really one of the b-boys I could say can fall into the category of legend. I can remember hearing his name an awful lot in early 2000’s, and in an era before YouTube, that says a lot.

BARRY RABKIN/B-BOY GRIZ – CYPHERSTYLES.COM STREET DANCE SOURCE

B-BOY PRYME – MORE THAN A STANCE FEATURED READER

CALVIN – MORE THAN A STANCE

Photo provided by Monica Chang

10. Moy – I think a lot of b-boys still go through a period where they want to be Moy, from his explosive moves to his aggressive-yet-controlled battle demeanor. I think that one B-Boy Hodown clip summed it up with that text that said something like “OH SHIT IT’S MOY!!!!!” No, really, watch out, it’s Moy.

9. Tells One/Rebirth – Give me some of whatever he’s having. His energy and battle persona are nuts.

8. Dyzee –The first time I saw Dyzee dance, I was completely convinced that there was either something wrong with my tape, my VCR or his legs. I couldn’t tell what exactly was wrong, but something was definitely not normal.

7. Shie-Chan – The last time I was this scared of a Japanese girl was when I saw The Ring. My first exposure to her was a battle video in which she calmly flicked off the camera for no apparent reason.  Then she actually started dancing, and the hardcore meter went through the roof.

6. Rawbzilla – You know those sets and moves you think of when you’re daydreaming/tired/high, and then you try them and feel stupid because they’re ridiculous/impossible/lame? Rawbzilla is the guy who takes all those and makes them look cool.

5. Revolve – It’s pretty impossible to find any footage of this guy online, but even thinking about the stuff he used to do gets me more hyped than seeing some of the biggest names in b-boying today. Revolve of Birmingham, Alabama’s BMW Crew singlehandedly made me see the beauty in originality and foundation. His jangly toprock and his skittery footwork—I can’t even explain it. Next.

4. Kid David – His stuff just looks cool.

3. Born – Yeah, totally predictable choice, I know. But it takes extreme talent to make the smallest, simplest movement completely oversaturated with b-boy flavor.

2. Abstrak – The first time I saw Abstrak dance, I just got really confused. I had no idea what the hell was going on—I just didn’t have a grid for it. Most people would look stupid taking on a name like “Abstract,” but Abstrak lives up to it and then some. I still don’t understand how he does what he does, but it’s mystifying. If people made a screensaver of Abstrak’s stuff, they’d probably make a lot of money.

1. Vengeance/Megas – I don’t even know the right way to spell his name(s), and I have even less of an idea of how to begin explaining all the reasons he’s dope. Yeah, that dope.

PAUL – MORE THAN A STANCE

Photo provided by Tammy Tso

Juse Boogy – The first b-boy whose style I tried to bite. Watching him battle alongside Jeromeskee in the first Lords of the Floor was a b-boy-life changing experience for me. He epitomizes the word “smooth” to me.

Abstrak – One of the reasons I like Abstrak is because he’s unpredictable. That’s because what he does isn’t logical. Because he’s superhuman.

Moy – Everything Moy does just makes sense when you watch it. Each move leads into the next in a way that seems completely obvious and natural. Until you try his moves, and then you realize he’s a freak of nature. I also dig his no-nonsense battle persona. Get in, get out, stay quiet.

Megas – He was bound to show up on this list if not just for his legacy. Everyone bites him, no one knows where he is, and he seems to be the only b-boy who the forum lurkers don’t talk shit about. Add to that the fact that he actually is as dope as the hype surrounding him, and you have the recipe for a legend.

KMel – “YOU DID THAT RAINBOW TWICE!” Seemingly one of the scariest b-boys alive, and not just because of his attitude. I think that’s about all I have to say about him… just watch him battle.

Casper – I’ve just never seen anyone else like him. His energy is raw, his flow is super creative, and he knows how to tell a good story when he puts it all together.

Cloud – If I collected b-boy action figures, Cloud’s would be the one still in the box in a glass case. Simply put: he just makes everything look bad-ass.

Poe One – I saw him in Total Session III in college, and I still get flashes of him dancing in that video when I’m trying to come up with new stuff. His swagger and attitude are what I remember most.

A-B-Girl – Just plain raw. Powerful, quick and sharp with all her movements.

Ronnie – One of the b-boys who made me start thinking more about the importance of transitions. Everything he does is super smooth, and each move motivates the next. One of my all-time favorites.

QKONG – BASHVILLE STAMPEDE/ILLVILLE

ROXRITE – RENEGADES CREW/BREAK DISCIPLES

TOYZ ARE US – LIONZ OF ZION/4F/ALL WAYS ROCKIN’/BEAT WAKZ

Photo provided by Monica Chang

10. Narumi (Japan) – One of the dopest b-girls I’ve seen. With dynamic footwork, crazy power combos, and blowups… Everyone is terrified of her… Everyone…

9. Dyzee (Canada) – He’s a seasoned vet. He’s been around for a long time… But he’s still killing shit… Crazy part is he doesn’t even seem like he’s hit his prime yet.

8. Kolobok (Ukraine) – Has some of the most craziest and most original freezes today. No one can match his determination or cleverness of his freezes.

7. Flying Buddha (Russia) – One of my favorite powerheads… Not into all the typical tricks of power today like doing a million 90’s or 2000’s. He is all about combos, which is what powermoves are all about. Not too many people can pull off the combos he can.

6. Soso (France) – The dopest trick b-boy I know of… Blow ups after blow ups after blow ups… On top of blow ups…

5. Lil G (Venezuela) – The underdog… Who would have expected someone from Venezuela to come out with some of the craziest power, enough to compete against KYS, Cico, Punisher, Bruce Lee, you name it…

4. Lilou (France) – Only two-time winner of Red Bull BC One and extremely influential over in the Europeans.

3. Thesis (West Coast, USA) – The youngest b-boy I know of that can tear apart other seasoned veterans.

2. Kid Glyde (East Coast, USA) – Bringing a whole new meaning of “that New York style.” The only one I know of who is making a lot of noise in NYC.

1. Hong10 (Korea) – One of the nastiest, most influential b-boys from Korea… Ever…

TYRONE – THE NOTORIOUS IBE/MIGHTY ZULU KINGZ/FUNKY DOPE MANOUVRES

Related posts:

1. New Feature: Top B-Boys of the 2000s
2. Top Clips of the 2000s: Visual Shock at BOTY 2001
3. Stuff B-Boys Like: Arguing about Hong 10

R-16 Korea Sparkling, Gyeonggi 2008 Documentation Film (yup, that’s the title) is a perfect example of the new era of b-boy videos, ahem, DVDs that began a few years back with BC One and continued with DVDs like UK B-Boy Championships and B-Boy Unit. Everything is done in a highly professional manner, with everything done on stage, broadcast-quality cameras, professional editing complete with high quality motion graphics, and actual cameramen instead of the promoter’s girlfriend and younger brother.

Hell, even the packaging looks better than half the DVDs I buy at Best Buy. From the moment you pop in the DVD, you don’t even feel like you’re watching a b-boy DVD. The DVD intro features slow motion highlights from the battle jazzed up with motion graphics. It looks more like ESPN for b-boys. Then, when you get to watching the actual battles and shows, there’s hardly a single bad angle on the entire three discs. The editing seems to have been done live as if it was an aired television event, so you will get pretty random shots of the crowd supporting their favorite crew. Overall, the editing was done well. There are no moments of confusion when switching camera angles, and it’s timed well as to not distract from the dancing. But enough about quality—what’s actually on it?

You get three discs. The first disc contains the shows and performances from Salah and Doonga Park. Personally, I’m not a fan of showcases in b-boy competitions. I never have been, and this DVD didn’t really do anything to change my mind. That’s not to say that the shows are bad, because they’re not. I just don’t feel that it’s the best way to exhibit b-boying.

However, there are a few highlights like Super Crew’s Super Mario show and the entire performance by Turn Phrase from Japan (still good even after Aichi falls of the stage). The one-man show by Salah is very creative and probably the best part of the first disc. The Doonga Park showcase focuses mainly on house dancing, including a solo from Ducky. Can’t say I enjoyed it too much, mainly because of the announcer.

The second disc is the first round of battles and opens with a performance from MyoSung doing a rendition of an all b-boy orchestra. It then moves onto the top 16 battles. Every battle on the disc is really solid, and it’s a good watch all the way through. The same can be said for the third disc, which has the remainder of the battles.

The only drawback arises if you watch the DVDs in order. You see, once you’ve watched the showcase on the first disc, you’ve basically seen every routine the crews are going to do, and they’ve probably already done it better. This takes away a lot of the surprise that comes with seeing a routine done in a battle. My suggestion: watch the first disc last.

Top 9 and Rivers Crew are the highlights of the battles. I don’t think either crew has a bad run all night, and their battle in the final four is just as exciting as you’d expect. The final battle is between Gamblerz Crew and Top 9. It’s another excellent battle that is very close, but in the end, Gamblerz comes away with the prize.

The final performance is by lockers Hilty and Bosch and poppers Cothkoo; it’s a very well-choreographed piece that does a great job of showing off the musicality inherent to popping and locking.

So why did I say that I miss the old days back in the beginning of this review? Well, even though you do get high quality footage and television-level production, you also lose something. There’s just not the same energy on this DVD and others like it that were so much a part of releases like the early Freestyle Sessions, Out For Fames, or Radiotrons. A crazy move on this DVD gets a cheer from a crowd, and the crew that did it jumps up and down. That’s it.

On Freestyle Session 4, Ruen does a three-spin ’90 slowly, and the whole jam jumps up and runs across the floor. And if you’re watching at home, you’ll do it too. You feel like you’re actually at the jam, and you can feel the intimacy of the whole thing. You can hear the crews talking shit to each other, and you can see the crowd going nuts for dope moves.

Watching DVDs like this just feels sterile. It’s almost too clean. There’s a certain rawness that’s always been appreciated in this culture, and while I like to see good production, I also don’t want to lose that element that used to make me jump out of my seat for those old VHS tapes. Then again, maybe I’m just getting old.

BUY IT HERE

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1. Slow Motion Film B-Boy Sculpture. Huh?
2. New Feature Film Trailer: B-Girl
3. The Full-Time BBoy – Short Film

When CypherStyles gave us a chance to review their “Headspin Hat with Triple Padding,” three thoughts crossed my mind: “Dang, $35 is a lot for a headspin beanie,” “Ooh, triple padding?” and “Wait, I don’t do headspins because I’m not super hardcore and don’t want a bald spot.”

Luckily for you, the beanies dropped in price to around $27. Luckily for me, I was able to find a few willing members of Risen from the Ashes of Atlanta, Georgia who were willing to let us listen in on their thoughts—that is, the thoughts that still made sense after they did a bunch of headspins.

- Calvin

“The first thing I liked about it was the black-on-black color scheme. Second, there’s enough padding, but not too much that your momentum gets absorbed when you spin on it. The mesh grips well so that you can keep centered on your head and still spin really well.

I’m a little worried about the durability. The mesh seems to want to come undone, but I haven’t used it enough to see how long it’s gonna hold.

Overall, it’s definitely worth the buy! It would be awesome to see other color beanies with matching color mesh.”

Overall Rating: A-

- Carnage, Risen from the Ashes

“The CypherStyles beanie is a great beanie to have. The padding is, in fact, perfect—there is virtually no pain at all. With other beanies, you have to move extremely quickly to reduce pain. With the CypherStyles beanie, you can start beginning with slow swing from your head.

The major flaw with this beanie is how durable the mesh material is over time. When I washed it for the first time, it was already starting to fall apart.

I hope to see more colors in the future so that I can coordinate with my outfits.”

Overall rating: B+

- Fathom, Risen from the Ashes
BUY IT HERE

Related posts:

1. Generation BBoy’s Headspin Cap for the Lovers
2. Show Us Your Bald Spot To Win A Free Headspin Beanie! *NOW CLOSED
3. Three New Reviews: Headspin Beanie, Mixtape, and DVD

At first listen, I thought that their first b-boy mix, Breaks Of Fury, sounded a bit tinny. But I also recognized the sound as one that undeniably comes from vinyl. When I do my amateur version of digging, this is the sound that comes through the headphones of my portable record player. You can hear the vinyl crackling under the music, and I soon realized that this mix didn’t need more bass–it needed more volume.

So I hooked the laptop up to my better stereo, cranked the volume, and hit play. It sounded great. I started to suspect that the reason I favored those bass-heavy songs on my iPod during sessions had more to do with our shitty stereo than anything else. At this volume the music didn’t just sound better–it was better. Whereas before I found it hard to stay interested in the songs on this mix, the energy and power of the drums began to push forward, making it increasingly harder to stay in front of my computer as I jotted down notes (like “uuuggghh!” and “woooooo!”).

Breaks Of Fury is split into three parts: a short intro, a track called “Training” and a track called “Attack”. Although one would assume “Attack” would be the hypest track on the CD, I actually found that “Training” was the one that I favored. The energy level of the breaks on “Training” are more varied, allowing you to experiment a bit more with them while dancing.

And it’s worth mentioning that when you buy Breaks Of Fury, you’ll get a real CD in a real case with real album art by Mayan Tamang. I can’t say enough how nice it is to have someone recognize how important the physical product is these days. I’m all about DJs cutting costs, but there’s something very underwhelming about a CD cover that has obviously been printed out on a home computer.

Just remember, crank that volume up before putting in this CD.

BUY IT HERE

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2. Deck Brothers Release Breakbeat Mix
3. DJ Franco De Leon – Hot Butter Breaks

Even as we were interviewing him on camera at The Notorious IBE, random bystanders would naturally gravitate toward the sound of his frequent “You know what I’m saying?”s, the way b-boys tend to naturally gravitate toward shoe stores.

There’s a reason for that: not only does Poe have the charisma of a motivational speaker, but every other thing he says is the sort of thing that can flip a b-boy’s entire outlook on life.

Usually, when we ask our interviewees what knowledge they could pass on to b-boys and b-girls around the world, they murmur something about YouTube or biting and move on. Poe One, on the other hand, said, “That’s a good question,” and proceeded to blow our minds for next half-hour or so. By the time he was done, we were almost inspired to the point where we wanted to shut down More Than A Stance so that we could spend the rest of our lives dancing with huge smiles on our faces.

Fortunately, we decided against that. That means that we can now share the entirety of his response with you, our readers. We’ve taken the liberty of dividing it into chapters and making basic edits for your reading comfort. Read it all at once, or take it section by section. We know it’s a lot, and nobody’s expected to agree with every word of it, but this is knowledge being dropped in one of its purest forms. We wanted to make it available those who are hungry for it.

Because even though Poe was the one eating during the interview, we were the ones being fed.

You know what I’m saying?

CHAPTER 1: WHY IT’S CALLED “BREAK”-ING

People forget. Everyone’s older now. They do breaking for different things. They grew up in a different generation. They grew up with a bunch of competitions.

You know, they call competitions “jams.” Let’s get this straight—it’s not a jam. A jam is just, you jam. It’s somebody just going off when they want to. They move when they want to. It’s not when somebody tells you to do it. In a competition, most people only battle the person that they look up to because they’ve been called up to the stage or to the floor, and it’s their turn that they have to battle. And you can see it in their eyes. The only reason they’re up there battling you is because they got called up there and it’s their turn. They would never step to you in a circle or anything like that ‘cause they want to.

That’s the difference. When we were kids, when I was a kid, we did it ‘cause we wanted to, you know what I’m saying? We threw down because we wanted to. Remember, we were kids. Most of us started at the age of 11, 12, 10 and stopped by the age of 15, 16, 17.

Now everybody’s older. They’ve been, I don’t know, domesticated, in a different way. They let a lot of things hold them back. And it shows in their breaking. Instead of breaking to be free, and instead of breaking to break—when I say breaking, it’s like throwing a cup on the floor and those pieces move sporadically and freely, no rules. Instead of doing that, they’re breaking with consciousness of their surroundings and they’re kind of looking and still being conscious of if they’re looking stupid or not stupid.

I’ll be honest. If you’re really breaking, it doesn’t matter if you’re looking stupid or not stupid ‘cause you don’t really care … When we were kids, kids didn’t care what people thought. They do in a way, but kids are brats, bro. They’re playful. And the dance was that way. It was very playful … To get away from, finally, your mother saying, “Wash the dishes. Keep your room clean. Keep this clean.” Remember, you’re still living with your mother, you know? So when you’re finally outdoors, you wanna go buck wild because nobody can tell you anything.

That’s your moment to really break. I think people lost that perspective, and they have to come back to that. And realize that, you know, I’m finally off work. Let me go home. And let me go to this session and get down. You know what I’m saying? People are making it way too technical and way too—you know, there is technicality, and there is rules and all that, but yo. Your number one thing is to get down and have fun. Get down, b.

CHAPTER TWO: HOW YOUTUBE KILLED THE B-BOY STAR

I think it’s important to get fame … I think [the key is] consistency. I think it’s longevity … When we were kids, it was like, “Yo, look at me. I’m here. Can you do this? This is how I get down.” I think it’s lost that aspect in a way.

A lot of kids want that fame on clips on the Internet. And they just lie to themselves—they just want those easy props. But really, when you see them in real life, they’re not as good as their clip because they edited the clip, or they sped up the clip. Or the clip doesn’t show how heavy they hit the floor. And they don’t really have finesse.

So when you finally get to see the kid in person, you’re like, “Yo, he has a lot of work he needs to do.” So a lot of these kids are getting these props, and it’s gassing them up … and they get mad when they lose to somebody who do got styles, that does got the finesse and everything. And they think because the guy has finesse that what he’s doing is easy.

It’s not like that. It’s hard to control what you’re doing and not slam on the floor and be graceful and have fun and finesse and still have the difficulty that others are doing … So these kids get confused ‘cause they’re like, “Yo, I’m getting all these props,” and they’re gassed up, and all of a sudden their dreams are shattered. And now they gotta get back in the lab. It either breaks them or makes them. That’s the way I see. That’s when you see who’s the b-boy and who’s not. Those that are in it just real quick that can’t handle the pressure, and then they quit because they don’t like anybody, you know, giving them constructive criticism. Or the ones that are ready to go and be like, “Oh word? You think I’m wack? Okay.” Go back in the lab and you practice and you come back harder.

“I’m not old school, man. I never even consider myself that. I’m now school, b. I never left. I’m still here.”

Video clips are lying. Video clips don’t show a lot of these things that we see in person. A lot of people judge jams from footage and they be like, “Yo, that crew won.” You weren’t at the jam. They didn’t see the camera angle from this side. They saw it from the back view and they didn’t see how many times he missed his thread … So there’s a lot of questions that video does not answer for the people that’s right there, seeing it from the front view.

It’s all about keeping that longevity, keeping that fame, being fresh. If you’re fresh, you’re gonna get props from people you want props from. I wanted props from the people that I admired. Once I got that, I couldn’t stop there. I said, “Yo, I still want to show people that you can still do this if you take care of your body and you stretch and eat right. If you feel the fire in your heart, it doesn’t matter what age.” My boys that I grew up with that stopped breaking when they were kids, when we were 16—yo, if you see them now, they look at me and they’re like, “How the hell did you stay at 179 pounds?” They look at me, and they’re 230, 240 pounds, grey hair, and they look old … and they’re like 40 years old, like me.

It’s just the dance, bro … I think I’m at my best that I’ve ever been, dancing. My understanding of the dance, I think, is better … Now I realize what I’m doing. When I was a kid, I just did it. We hit beats without even learning the song. It was just a reaction. Now I’m hearing songs, and I’m learning them, and I’m focusing on them, and I know them, and I’m feeling them. I might not be as dynamic as I was as a kid. I used to do a back handspring, land on my head with no hands and drill it. I used to do top swipes from standing and drill and land in a dead man on the floor. It’s like, I don’t do none of that stuff anymore. But I think my flow and my understanding of rhythm and speed and body movements going both ways and my sporadicness in that … has gotten way better than when I was a kid. I move like I am 20 years old, 18 years old, you know what I mean? I’m 40. You know? I know 40-year-old cats that can’t even jump right … I’m like, boom, baby freeze, bah!

So I think that, to me, is what I want and I strive for. I still want the respect from the newer generation. I got the respect from the older generation. I want to young kids to be able to look at me and not say, “Oh, he’s old school.”

I’m not old school, man. I never even consider myself that. I’m now school, b. I never left. I’m still here. So don’t consider me any generation. I just break. I just throw down. And I continue to do so. It’s like, some kids say, “Oh he’s old school.” Well, you’re gonna get my age pretty soon. Are you still gonna be breaking? I hope so. Even if you work a regular job, keep breaking.

CHAPTER 3: HOW (NOT) TO GET BEAT UP AFTER A BATTLE

I treat breaking like it’s life. You treat life respectfully, and you try to learn everything about life. It has morals. Respect. You try and treat it the way you would like to be treated. I take that same approach to the dance.

We do burns, but there’s a certain limit to not cross when you’re battling somebody. Kids nowadays, it doesn’t seem like they’ve been knocked out before. It doesn’t seem like they know that limit. They’re in your face this close. It’s like when you push them, they kinda get surprised like, “Why’d you push me?” It’s like, “Dog, you were practically spitting in my face.” You don’t do that. You don’t cross a certain line.

It’s getting really personal. And it’s always been personal, but people are taking it as a joke. They’re taking the burns as a joke. They think they can get away with whatever they want. You know, people need to be careful because they will get smacked up. You know, I’m sorry to look at the camera for that, but it’s a serious thing.

You got your brothers that battle with the raw-raw approach. Like, Ness used me as an example in his book, in “The Art of Battle.” Ness has a raw-raw approach—an-in-your-face, in-your-grill approach. But he still doesn’t get in your face … He’s looking at you, he’s taunting you, he’s throwing burns at you. But he still has his distance. Then he uses me as an example and he says, Poe takes a gentleman approach. I’ll smile through the whole battle. I’ll give the guy props. I’ll say, “Yo, that was nasty. Watch this.” Or I’ll say, “That was dope. Let me show you what you’re not doing with that.” Bah bah! And I’ll throw down … It might be talking but its more – it’s not yelling-talking, or it’s not mean-talking. It’s just talking. It’s a conversation … I don’t get mad unless somebody disrespects me.

My gestures react on people’s real reactions. If somebody’s fake with it, I don’t have any gestures at all. Okay? It’ll just be a verbal conversation with some moves. If the guy is getting me upset in the battle, then my switch turns on and I act upset. I really break with my real emotions. If I’m not mad at you, I’m not gonna fake it. I’m not gonna put a face and start breaking at you, and then after the battle’s over, the songs done, and smile. Nah! If I’m not mad at you, I’m gonna be smiling throughout the whole thing like, “Yo, that was nasty!” It’s like, “Yo, let’s exchange!” It’s an exchange of skill.

“But right when the song turns on, they get all mad. And they don’t even hate each other. It’s so fake. They’re acting. And breaking shouldn’t be acting. It should be reacting.”

Kids nowadays are faking that. They’re battling their friends and they’re in the same crew and they happen to meet up in a one on one battle… They’re, like, smiling at each other first. But right when the song turns on, they get all mad. And they don’t even hate each other. It’s so fake. They’re acting. And breaking shouldn’t be acting. It should be reacting.

[They’re] breaking to act instead of breaking to break. They’re breaking to impress instead of breaking to express. Crazy Smooth always says that; “You gonna break to impress or break to express?” I say I’m gonna break for both. I’m gonna impress you with my expression. Kids are just trying to impress. And if they don’t do it, if they don’t hear no scream, they leave the circle like, sad. Fuck that, man—excuse me.

CHAPTER 4: SORRY, ABSTRACT B-BOYING HAPPENED 30 YEARS AGO

But yo, on the real, b-boys don’t try and look for the reaction all the time. They just wanna get down, b. They’re gonna make you feel it as long as you touch that one person. Yo, there’s b-boys out there. Let’s say they win the top competitions. And they don’t have the top b-boys walking up to them and saying, “You’re nasty.” It’s usually the one that lost that people walk up and say, “Yo nigga, you nasty.” That’s because they have the essence. They felt it. Maybe they lost the competition or the battle. But their essence was naaasty. They understand the dance.

“Style is an approach. It’s not anything else. They’re trying to say a style guy is a footwork guy. I’ve seen footwork guys with no style.”

A lot of kids don’t understand. They say, “Well I did this. I did footwork. I did this. I did that. Why did I lose?” … Sometimes people enter battles, and they look at the judges and they try to break for the judges. They say, “Okay, Poe is a footwork guy.” I don’t know where the hell people got that idea. I’m not just a footwork guy, man. I do everything, man. You see me mix in flares with sweeps, mix ‘90s in with glides, freeze, go back down in to babies to a swipe to a halo to a–I do it all. Shuffles, everything man. Everything’s dynamic for me.

They think I’m a footwork guy. Well, they say “style guy.” Well, I don’t know. That whole interpretation is wrong as well. “Style guy.” You should have style with everything you do. Style is an approach. It’s not anything else. They’re trying to say a style guy is a footwork guy. I’ve seen footwork guys with no style. People got it twisted. They need to learn that there’s no such thing as a style cat or a powermover cat.

Yo, let me get back to the fact that they need to learn to just really, really just respect it all. We don’t hate on abstract styles. ‘Cause I can tell you right now, my crew itself helped develop that abstract style. You know, Style Elements, Bag of Trix from Canada. It’s always been there. Flowmaster. Kenny … It’s always been there, from the ‘80s. I bit a move from Spider from Dynamic Rockers . He used to backspin and put his leg behind his head, okay, and then go into spider freezes and walk around. That’s the ‘80s, man. I bit that move and I used to go backspin, put my leg behind my head and then go up into a headspin drill with my leg behind my head with one leg drilling.

Kids are barely doing that now, and they think it’s new school. There’s no such thing, man. Body threads, elbow tracks, everything, you know. Just the combinations of it have changed; the rhythm of it has changed. The flow of it has changed, you know?

CHAPTER 5: HOW TO START A REAL B-BOY CLUB AT SCHOOL

I think everybody just needs to stop tripping on each other and just dance. And learn about the dance. You don’t gotta break like Kenny to be a b-boy. You don’t gotta break like Skill Methodz to be a b-boy. Or Remind. You break like the people you feel. Go ahead, break. But if you’re not hitting your stuff, if it’s not clean, if it’s not this or that, then work on it until it’s clean. Nobody’s telling you that your style is wack. If somebody says your style is wack, then burn ‘em. Or work on your style until it’s better. Don’t take it the wrong way.

Yo, it’s like when I was a kid, people would burn me, and there were no classrooms, there were no workshops .There was the concrete. You were cutting class. You were in the arcade. Somebody’d tap you on the shoulder and say, “Yo, come outside.” You thought you were gonna fight. But there would be somebody waiting out there with a radio and you just had to get down. And I would get smoked, and I would go home crying like a little fucking girl, you know, and think about how I got burned, work on that move that he burned me on, and try to flip that move and go after him again. And this time I would cut class and go to his town. Take the bus to his town, or hitchhike to his town, and burn him in front of his people. That’s how it was.

I think the heart has changed, in that aspect. Kids don’t do that. They don’t go to people’s high schools anymore, knowing that there’s b-boys there. You know, we used to battle each other at rallies. You know school rallies? Like when other schools would compete like track and field and all those schools would have battles? Yo, b-boys of that school would meet up with other b-boys there and battle each other.

It’s good to be humble and friendly. But also, stand your ground, and don’t be afraid to battle cats. The young generations are scared to battle the people that are better than them. The only way you’re gonna get better is battling the people that are better than you.

It’s like, smoke me. People never want to step to me. And it gets me mad because it doesn’t keep me up to par. So I challenge myself in a circle to see who will. And I keep dancing until I have to find new motivations. Like basically, if nobody battles me, I say to myself, “Okay, I’ll go in after every person,” just to challenge myself, to see how long I can last. I’m not battling them, not looking at them. I just go in after every person. You go in? I go in. He goes in? I go in. Next guy goes in? I go in. I’m trying to run the circle, even if it’s short sets.

I’m not trying to kill it. I’m trying to conversate. Challenge myself. Because I’m getting irked, I’m getting mad, I’m getting vexed that nobody’s wanting to step to me because I’m so-called Poe One. Fuck Poe One! I’m a b-boy just like you … Smoke me, man. It’ll keep me on my toes.

It’s like, if I start getting tired in that circle after going after every one person, I let two people pass and then I go in. And then if I start getting tired after that, I start letting three people pass until I regain my stamina, and I go back to one person again. I train that way. That’s a training method to see your stamina and see how long you can last in a circle. If I did everything one way, even though its repeating, I’ll do everything the opposite way, even though it’s the same moves. It’s still the opposite way. Working on your shit—it’s a journey for me.

I’m training myself, I’m schooling people, I’m getting schooled. I’m challenging myself. I might fuck up, I might not. These kids are not learning how to train.

CHAPTER 6: FAMOUS B-BOYS HAVE FEELINGS, TOO

They’re also separating a lot of the music. They’re hitting a lot of the basic sounds. MEHRR-MEHRR. Okay. Or they’ll wait for somebody to hit a new sound. And that’s the new trend that everybody’s hitting. YNOT came out with all the horns. Now everybody’s hitting the horns. Now they’re waiting for somebody else to uplift that. Why can’t it be you leading and not always the same people leading?

And then the same people leading are the ones always getting attacked. “Ah, they’re wack; they think they’re dope.” It’s like, fuck. They don’t deserve that. We’re just trying to throw down. We’re just trying to break.

I think that kids need to realize what kind of effect they’re having on their own actions. Sometimes, we’re getting attacked, and when we attack back, they’re like, “Oh, they’re assholes.” … It’s kinda like, yo, you’re saying that I’m an old school style. You’re saying that I only do footwork … You’re missing the whole picture buddy. You don’t think that hurts? When I try and show you everything? So of course I’m gonna tell you back, “It’s like you crashed every single round. And oh, your moves are somebody else’s moves. And all you did was piece together in one set.”

Where’s your fingerprint? What move did you add to this game? I know what moves I added.

CHAPTER 7: THE RULES OF BITING

I know what moves I bit and took. And I’m humble enough to say, “This is Kenny’s. This is Flow’s. I changed it and flipped in this way.”

Half of these young cats don’t even wanna admit that. And that’s what’s missing also. Humbleness. They’re so afraid of being called a biter that they won’t admit where they got their moves from. That’s a biter if you don’t admit where you got your moves from. It’s not a biter if you get moves from people, and you show credit to those people, and you try to build from those people … That means if you blow up, and you got popular, and they interview you the way you guys interview me now, I give credit to these people. And the history stays intact.

Nowadays, these kids, you say, “Who you look up to?” And you know damn well who they look up to because you see it in their style. And they’re like, “I developed my style in the garage. Me, just practicing.”

What? Nigga, you look like Ivan, nigga, you look like this guy. And you know it. And they just can’t admit it. It’s wack when that happens. I think people need to really realize how much that can hold us back. In the future, we have to learn to swallow our pride and our dignity and be real with it. We’re never gonna move it.

That’s why we’re not teaching this in universities. That’s why ballet and other dances that have certificates to move forward—that’s why they don’t respect us. Because we’re constantly arguing … And we have this pride and biter thing mixed up. Everyone needs to chill out and respect each other and learn from each other and flip it and not be afraid.

If somebody calls you a biter, just be like, “Oh well.” We all bit something. That’s how we started. If we didn’t bite something, none of us would be doing six step or four step or five step. Which doesn’t really exist, you guys. Steps like that don’t really exist. Styles of footwork exist. That’s just how we teach it, but it didn’t exist in the ‘80s.

CHAPTER 8: WHAT IT MEANS TO BE A MAN

It’s about no easy props, man. It’s about a struggle. It’s like the Bible says, who’s going into heaven? You gonna take the easy route to walk to heaven and see the gates, or you’re gonna see the rough road with the thorns and the snakes and everything like that. Go that route. Learn. ‘Cause if you go this route, you’re not gonna learn anything. You’re not gonna know what you did. They’re gonna ask how you got there. “Oh, I just walked straight.” On this side, it’s gonna be like, “Yo I had to crawl under here. I had to go through here.” … You learn a game plan to go through the hard part, the rough part, or through the dirt.

“It’s about who looks the rawest. And the rawest doesn’t mean the hardest … Frosty Freeze wasn’t the hardest b-boy, but he was the rawest style.”

Breaking’s grimy. What’s up with all this pretty shit? What’s up with b-boys looking feminine? Their toprock is feminine, and they’re acting feminine with their butts out. And footwork with their butts out. Everything is pointy toed and with their little shoes—little ballet shoes. It’s like, dog, what is that? I know the style has changed, but when did it turn feminine?

We’re men. We should break like men. We grab a crotch. We grab a crotch ‘cause we mean it. It’s like wearing girl jeans. That’s cool. I’m not gonna diss nobody. Do what you feel. Women are women. Men are men. It’s like hip-hop—this is a machismo thing. Sorry to say.

When did it look cool to be a nerd breaking? A lot of people are gonna get mad about this, but this is reality. It’s about style, man. It’s about who looks the rawest. And the rawest doesn’t mean the hardest … Frosty Freeze wasn’t the hardest b-boy, but he was the rawest style. He was a clown. He was an entertainer. He had the drunken style. He bugged out. Kenny has the Muggsy, hard-edge, sharp-edge. Ness is just, raaaw, in-your-face. Legs is smooth and lanky. He shocks his arms. These characters left their fingerprint on what this whole b-boy thing is about.

Nowadays, you don’t really see nobody focusing. Let’s say out of 100 bboys, 20 or 10 of them really get down. The rest of them are just going in there and just trotting. It’s like they’re having fun. That’s cool. Have fun. But take it serious if you’re gonna have fun. Get down, have fun. But do it for real. A lot of them don’t seem like they wanna do it for real. They mess up, they quit right away … They don’t push and they don’t strive. It seems like they haven’t struggled. It seems like they want it fast-fast-fast, easy. So they watch video clips and video clips to help them—actually not help them, to give them the creation. Like, basically everyone’s looking the same.

Clips are not letting you think for yourself. So basically, you lose your own creativity. When we were creating, there was no videos. Everything was by feeling. Everything was like, “You smoked me? Okay, you served me, man.” I’d go home and I’d try to remember your feeling of how you did the move ‘cause there was no video cameras. So I’m in my garage, just trying to capture that snap. Trying to react to your reaction. We improvise on the spot.

Nowadays, people are rewinding stuff and learning exactly how that person does it and not trying to do it the way they would do it their own self. I try to tell people it’s okay to watch footage to get inspired a little bit. But if that’s the only way you get moves, then you’re limiting yourself

You should spend more time in the lab with the floor, the music and just you than anything else. You should go to a park, play a game of basketball. Warm up, turn on the radio and jam out. And if moves that you’ve seen come in your head, try them. But you’re gonna end up doing them your way instead of slowing something down on a video and copying exactly how they do it. That’s a no-no in my book. It’s like, go in the lab, man. Get your own character.

CHAPTER 9: WOULD A B-BOY BY ANY OTHER NAME BE AS DOPE?

People have these weird names nowadays. Nobody really has a real name.

Ken Swift standed for something.

Ken. Swift. Swift wizard in footwork techniques.The acronym of “swift.” Fucking crazy meaning, nigga.

Ness. Never-ending supreme style.

Poe. Peace on earth.

One. Originality never ends.

We gave meanings to what we stand for. Now, it’s like, “What’s your name?”

“Herbert.”

“Whats your name?”

“Alex.”

It’s like, dog, what’s your style? How do you feel? It’s missing, man. We were characters, b. You know, people forget that. They think it’s just about moves. It’s not. It’s an essence. It’s an approach. Moves are a part of it. But the style, the swagger is what makes it what it is, man. If that’s missing, it’s like watching a bunch of geeks. They don’t know what the fuck they’re doing.

And it’s not about this is the new style, or it’s not about I can give my opinion … Your opinion needs to be valid before you can give your opinion. A lot of people are using that excuse nowadays. Yeah, it’s my opinion. But can your opinion be reinforced? If you don’t know what you’re talking about, my opinion is reinforced with facts, knowledge and experience. That’s where my opinion comes from. Where does yours come from?

CHAPTER 10: CONCLUSION

I just want everyone to be happy. I just want everybody to enjoy themselves. That’s the basic experience. I want to show the world that doesn’t know about breaking. Look at all these countries coming together under one roof and dancing it out with each other and respecting each other for our skill level. No guns, no war, no nothing. This needs to come out on the news instead of what they show on that that CNN crap, with the Muslims fighting this and the Christians fighting this and everybody fighting wars and bullshit. They should see how all these countries, everybody together under one fucking roof, dancing it out with smiles and happiness and everybody just going for it. I think that’s what people need to see that don’t know what’s going on this world.

That’s what IBE is, and that’s why I enjoy about being here. We build where we left off. I think this dance is a beautiful tool that God gave us to conversate with each other. I think graffiti art, rap, music, DJing, the dance itself, is a tool that got us all together to show the world it’s not what really you think.

And we’re showing our mom, our dad, our grandparents that were racist or didn’t understand what we do—we’re changing that whole chain and breaking it into a whole new link of new people of all colors and all generations under peace, love, unity and having fun under the oneness of God no matter what god you pray to. And I think that’s what IBE is showing and all the other jams that know how to really unite people together. Word.

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That’s mostly because at an age where most teens battle acne, authority figures and self esteem issues, the kid is battling dudes like Toyz, Kareem and Free.

B-boy phenomenon or not, being 17 has its limitations. It means it hasn’t been that long since Thesis became old enough to legally drive, buy music with a “Parental Advisory” label or watch an R-rated movie alone.

It means he still can’t legally vote, gamble, own a credit card or go to a club—meaning, among other things, he’s effectively ruled out from going to most b-boy jam afterparties. And he still has a birthday to go before he can purchase worthwhile things like guns, porn, cigarettes, piercings or tattoos.

Even at IBE in the Netherlands, where b-boys and b-girls from all over come to gather around a cypher and under a massive cloud of weed smoke, the legal age to blaze up is 18.

So Thesis plays it cool. Dressed in all-dark colors with a fitted cap, jacket, tee, slim jeans and Pumas, he’d look like a poster child for streetwear if he weren’t blending into the night.

He’s deceptively calm.

Two mornings ago, while others tried to sleep on the bus from the airport, he was that kid excitedly standing in the aisle and chattering, acting, well, like a 17 year old. Earlier today, he and crewmate Dial Tone were sending the audience into a frenzy at the Circle Prinz IBE finals. Tomorrow, he’ll be wrecking shop at the IBE’s coveted All Battles All event.

But right now, the part-Mexican, part Native American teen seems content. He might even pass as a normal teenager relaxing in Heerlen, enjoying a cool night by the fountain while friends and acquaintances ravage a freshly acquired sack of weed.

Because even if there’s a lot Thesis can’t do at 17 (not legally, anyway), this Seattle battler has already gotten to do—and has had to do—a lot to get where he is now.

TRAVEL TO PLACES like Korea, Germany, France and Holland?

Check.

Get props from b-boy icons like Trac 2, Crazy Legs and Dyzee?

Check.

Gain an international following that leaves comments like, “Oh my god. He’s a fucking machine or? something man. Damn… “ and “woooooooouuu,? what the hell¿?¿¿??¿” and “GOT DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAMN?”?

Definitely check.

The list goes on and on.

Before becoming a legal adult, Thesis has managed to accomplish most of the goals that a lot of b-boys would struggle to complete in their entire lifetimes.

A lot of people don’t know who I am, but a lot of people will criticize me on the Internet. And I read it and I’m like, wow, do you really think I’m that person? Do you really think I’m that b-boy who doesn’t give a fuck?

He lives the life of a professional b-boy by throwing jams, teaching classes, doing street shows for the city, battling and judging.

At first glance, it looks like the only concerns he has in life are long layovers at airports and unnamed Asian girls in his city who tend to be “buggin’ out sometimes.”

For most 17-year-old boys, this is the sort of stuff that inflates egos and heads to the point where their foam caps rip in half. But Thesis seems as surprised by his own success as his YouTube fans who argue about his “real” age.

“It’s crazy how I’m one of the pros,” he says. “It’s crazy because it inspires me to do that much more. It doesn’t build up my head. It’s kinda like it leaves more spaces. It opens it up more. It feels good, man. I guess if you’re really passionate about something, man, it always just kinda falls into place.”

The problem is that sometimes that falling into place can be a little painful.

Thesis is the kind of guy who is perpetually joking, even to the point where it’s hard to tell when he’s being serious.

Exactly zero of the videos he’s uploaded to YouTube himself feature any kind of b-boying. Exactly 100 percent of them are videos of him goofing around. Even with that laidback of an attitude, Thesis says his Internet fame can be—well, frustrating.

“I’m used to it, but I’m not used to it,” he says. “I feel uncomfortable when people are like talking about me like they know me. A lot of people don’t know who I am, but a lot of people will criticize me on the Internet. And I read it and I’m like, wow, do you really think I’m that person? Do you really think I’m that b-boy who doesn’t give a fuck? Yo, I’m beyond that. If you just get to know the real person—and this is any b-boy—if you get to know them, everyone has a fucking background. We’re not born as b-boys. I just feel sometimes disrespected.”

Respect usually isn’t at the top priority of any 17-year-old’s list, but Thesis seems to take it pretty seriously.

In fact, it seems to be the byproduct of his striking sense of responsibility. Most of the money he scores at competitions goes towards investing in his events and helping to support his stepfather, mother and cousin.

“I’m sticking to what’s important to me right now,” Thesis says. “You gotta give to get. It’s a fucking cycle.”

REWIND A FEW weeks. Thesis is waiting out a layover at Salt Lake City so he can make his way to an event to a border town near San Antonio. (There, he’ll win a bunch of money, which, as usual, he’ll give to his mother, but he doesn’t know this yet.) Thesis is about to rewind it some more, back to when he was still little Thesis, still just an idea of a b-boy.

Like so many other hip-hoppers, Thesis’s childhood kind of mirrored the childhood of hip-hop itself.

Growing up without a lot—in his case, in Seattle and Tucson—Thesis learned to do a lot with what he did have. What he had was an absent father and a working mother. He had friends and cousins and aunts and uncles. He had a limited patience for all things school-related, especially math.

And he had the sacred glowing treasure, the Holy Grail that would change the course of his life: a collection of footage of his uncles breaking and popping in the ‘80s.

At 6 years old, Thesis was hooked.

“I just blanked out everything and kinda got stuck,” he says. “Oh man, I was raised on it. I just fell in love with it.”

He describes memories of spending entire afternoons in Tucson, “just a desert town,” dancing, watching those videos and never giving a second’s attention to his homework.

Back at school, a friend might do some windmills in the gym. Thesis would respond with some footwork and a freeze. He’d go home and practice all night, invigorated by the exchange.

Fortunately, Thesis was one of the few lucky ones who didn’t have to cycle through a million lame b-boy names he chose for himself. Early on, his mom managed to sum up his destiny simply by flipping his real name, Thias.

“At the time, I didn’t know what it meant. When my mom explained it to me, I remembered every single word,” he says. “Thesis—if you look at the definition, it says it’s proving a point. And it’s pretty much what you did when you wrote a thesis in school—proving a point of what you did. I just thought, damn, yeah, if you think about it, a thesis is a perfect word because that’s what you do. You express yourself and prove the point of why you’re in there in the cypher and why you’re dancing.”

As Thesis grew older, those reasons for dancing changed and grew with him. Even when his attitude soured as he grew older, b-boying become important not just as an escape from boredom, but as an escape from struggle.

“Growing older, [my friends and I] were kinda on the angry side,” he explains. “We couldn’t really control our tempers—we’d get in fights in school. It wasn’t good. I guess maybe my dad’s situation—but dancing was my ventilation. Dancing, just stay quiet and keep moving. My own world.”

Thesis says he got “serious” with dancing around the ripe age of nine or 10, though it’s hard to imagine anyone that age being serious about anything other than flicking boogers.

By 11, he’d befriended an influence who’d help him polish his approach: Paranoid Android. The infamous so-called abstract-style b-boy would open Thesis’s eyes to different approaches to creativity, including his now-infamous threads. They’d rep together as members of Knuckleheads Cali, eventually making an infamous crew trailer that began with scenes of guys vomiting and doing nude powermoves.

“Those were the days,” Thesis waxes, sounding more like he’s 70 than 17.

“It’s good to start at a young age. But it doesn’t matter what age you start it,” he says. “I’ve seen people start at 25 and shit, and now they’re killing it at age 30. It just depends how you look at it. But yeah, I’m at a young age. Like El Nino and all these crazy cats. I’m just one of them, trying to do my thing too.”

If you have the form right and mess up and fall into something else, that’s a move. You just gotta add style to it.

CONSIDERING HOW MANY people use words like “machine” and “beast” to describe Thesis’s dancing, it’s a shame that both have already been claimed as b-boy names. Not that he needs them. He’s got plenty of notoriety with his own.

That’s because Thesis is the type of guy who makes everything look so effortless that onlookers begin to wonder why they even bothered started dancing in the first place. He’ll string together a bunch of powermoves—say, some airflares into handhops into swipes into babymills—then throw in some crazy abstract shit, a flip and an airchair on beat for good measure. No sweat.

For these reasons, watching others watch Thesis dance can be as entertaining as his dancing itself. Here at IBE, heads crane as soon as his named is uttered in a thick Dutch accent—“TEEEEE-SISSSSS!”

Eyes get really big, and though few ask it, everyone’s wondering it: how’d this kid get so good?

“[Videos of me] are online a lot, so I try to make something really new and noticeable at every event,” Thesis says. “It kinda just keeps me thinking outside the box. Originality—that’s the key.”

To keep his creativity peaked, Thesis keeps up with his house dancing and capoeira to set his styles apart. (“I just house, man! It’s what I do!” he yells.) He’s also dabbled in modern dance, rocking and hip-hop choreography for inspiration in movements and styles.

“Shit hella helps,” he says. “If you’re a b-boy, you have to learn other styles. If you look at Free, he’s doing hella shit. It’s just a style you get. It’s not what you do, it’s how you do it. If you look at it, b-boying is other styles combined to one thing—into your own style. You adapt from everything you’ve seen and learned, and that’s how you express yourself. If you learn other dances, you can incorporate them and express yourself even more—that much stronger.”

Three things about Thesis’s practice regiment, for those taking notes: first, he likes his practice sessions the way b-boys like their shoes—tight and exclusive.

“I’m not really the person that goes to practices with a lot of people,” he admits. “When I practice, I kinda stick with my group—my kinda people, Them Team in Seattle. I pretty much just practice on my friends’ carpet. I like to be in my own world in my own space.”

Second: Thesis doesn’t believe in mistakes, but he does pay attention to the details.

“If you have the form right and mess up and fall into something else, that’s a move. You just gotta add style to it,” he says. “When you wanna be a pro or become pro, you start to realize all the little details and moves you do. Every movement has a reason. Every movement has a world to it. There are different ways to battle, dance. A lot of people see a move and wanna learn it right away, but they forget about the details and form. If you do that and end up teaching later and don’t know the form, it’s gonna be hard for you to teach. You gotta keep tying that rope.”

It’s a theory that Thesis has proven through trial by fire, as is evident in his signature transitions.

His runs often feature series of moves that, while already impressive alone, become exponentially so when he strings them together. Sometimes, he seems to go through entire sets without his feet ever touching this ground. This could also potentially serve as a tip for keeping shoes clean.

Third, and last: when it comes to practicing, Thesis doesn’t do it all that much—not in the conventional sense, anyway. At 17, he’s taken a surprisingly zen approach to b-boying.

“I used to practice so much,” he admits. “Right now, I practice maybe once or twice a week and then battle on weekends. Every weekend, I battle. But right now, I’m working on a lot of battle strategies. I think you gotta keep going through that—just the person you are. I dunno how to explain that. Right now I’m kinda on the mental kind of thing.”

This means waking up every morning and immediately soaking in ‘80s and ‘90s b-boy footage like it’s orange juice. Thesis says he appreciates the era’s originality and style and uses it to brainstorm.

Though he depends on footage to get hyped (and largely to promote himself), Thesis is wary of becoming too reliant on Internet footage, especially that found on YouTube.

“I’m not gonna clown on anyone that watches online shit. I know I’m online. I do the battle, and the next day I’m already online,” he says. “I don’t really watch TV. When I’m online, I’m talking to people on Facebook and shit. But I stay away from YouTube. I feel like that is kinda killing the younger scene right now. That’s dope that they’re inspired, but I see too much biting nowadays. If you see someone wearing a foam cap a certain way, don’t do that. Just flip it.”

Instead of biting styles, he advises, get informed so that you can adapt to different movements. Instead of manufacturing a battle persona, use your personality and the specific emotions you are experiencing at that time. Instead of figuring out how others do moves, figure out your own personality and life.

“You can do the weirdest thing, but as long as you know what you’re doing, you’ll be perfectly fine,” he says. “Keep going with that. If each person cocks someone in the face at the end of every round, they’re not going to stand out. The way you’re gonna battle is you gotta just be yourself.

“If you don’t care what other people think or what other people do and just do you, that’s the real shit,” he says. “That’s where you find your roots and learn yourself and all that shit about life.”

HEARING A SEVENTEEN year old talk about the life and the future can feel like asking grandparents what they thought of a b-boy battle. The answer might be interesting, but it’s hard to tell how much to take at face value.

But for some reason, young and wide-eyed as he may be, when Thesis spouts his idealistic visions for b-boying and himself, it seems plausible. Maybe it’s because he’s such a good dancer. Or maybe it’s because he’s so earnest. Or maybe, as he puts it, it’s because he tries not to be a “dumbass.”

“I’m happy that I’m inspiring people,” he says. “I wanna show people to be humble and to inspire people. You can’t be cocky or bigheaded because it’ll just make you look like a dumbass and be played out in the future. You just have to be yourself for the people, no matter what your status or rank is.

“I don’t honestly believe in rank,” he continues. “I think each person is equal. If you’re a beginning b-boy and another has been doing it 10 years, you’re still the same person. You’re still dancers. More knowledge doesn’t mean you’re better than anyone else.”

Still though, the pursuit of knowledge seems worth the effort.

Though Thesis dropped out of high school, he got his GED after studying for two weeks. At the time of the interview, he’s just finished his first quarter at school and will be returning to study sociology and video production (“B-boying sometimes gets in the way and fucks my shit up,” he says.)

He wants to learn how to help people by adapting to them, the same way he battles people by adapting to their styles. He wants to make movies and documentaries about Rawbzilla and Free and Orb and underground b-boys and up-and-comers—“not some Step Up 3 shit, but some real shit,” as he puts it.

And hopefully, he says, if all goes according to plan, he can settle down by the time he’s 19.

Wait, what? That’s right. He’s still only 17.

“I’m not gonna lie—fucking 70 percent of my life, I never expected it to happen this way,” he says. “I would have never thought it, especially where I’m coming from. I’m just a kid. I’m just doing my thing. I chill out, and sometimes I go to malls and get girls’ numbers and party and shit and stupid shit. I’m just a regular fucking kid.”

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“I’m a big nerd,” the 21-year-old is saying. He’s talking about his hobbies outside of b-boying, like art shows and community service, among, uh, other stuff.

“I’m Asian, so you can probably already guess that I’m really into anime. I really like playing games. I used to paint little figurines,” he admits.

The Silver Spring, MD native doesn’t sound sheepish because, well, he isn’t. On the other hand, it’s one of the few stereotypes applicable to Chang that is actually accurate.

He’s standing with his hands in the pockets of his black jacket, with his backpack and threadbare, paint-splattered Nikes also in tow. The sun is ducking from the patio at the 40 Watt in Rotterdam. Street Science’s Generations Battle is about to begin.

Huddled hip-hoppers peek through the occasional weed smoke cloud wafting by as the interview continues. Chang—known to many as Toyz aRe Us, or simply Toyz (like Geoffrey the Giraffe? Get it?)—doesn’t seem to mind.

As famed hip-hop photographer Martha Cooper will later point out, Toyz tends to stand out from the crowd. She’ll be referring to the fact that his bright yellow shirt makes for better pictures than the drab colors worn by other b-boys. But her words ring true in other regards as well. C’mon, it’s Martha Cooper.

Besides, aside from his shirt, Toyz is as distinguishable for what he lacks as much as what he has.

In conversation, he displays little pretense—far from the usual gruff b-boy aloofness—as he excitedly greets friends by name. Absent are the standard foam cap and Pro-Keds. Likewise for the mean-mugging and constant cock-throwing. Any hopes of classifying him as a “style” or “power” b-boy get thrown out the window.

Instead, he speaks like the kind of intellectual-meets-smart-ass you might see in a Judd Apatow movie. During a battle, you might see him beam a widespread, cheesy smile at his opponents while they coldly stare back, emotionless.

Or Toyz may do a silly little marching dance in place. Then a dazzling display of interweaving footwork. Some crazy threading shit with his hands. ‘90s variations. A firmly clenched airchair as a closer.

But it’s not that Toyz doesn’t take himself or the culture seriously. Truth be told, he’s not even really that weird.

He’s just made a point to be comfortable with himself and with the dance. And being normal—being himself—makes him stand out in a sea of b-kids trying to become someone else.

Simple a concept as it is, he says it’s a large part of how he’s gotten invited to events like Monster Jam in Korea, IBE in the Netherlands, or Street Science, where he stands now.

“A lot of people don’t really understand the concept of having your own style – being individual,” Toyz says. “You might be able to come up with your own combo, but [many b-boys] all generally tend to move extremely similar to one another to when it comes down to the way they just carry themselves in a battle, like their character and attitude. They might have their own signature moves, but they all come in like this, and they’re all imitating particular styles they’ve seen before, or look up to, which is fine. But eventually, as you progress, you gotta realize that you just gotta be yourself.”

Toyz seems to have realized this for himself early on; he’s been making all his money through dancing since he first started b-boying at the age of 12.

You’re not gonna get big by posting a trailer of yourself after like two years of dancing or calling out judges just because you lost.

Introduced to the dance through his brother, Toyz found inspiration in all the move-makers of the ‘90s: Style Elements, Skill Methodz, Breaks Kru, HaviKoro, Footwork Fanatix, Force Force, and of course Lionz of Zion.

In fact, later on, he’d come to be associated with a long list of crews that’s difficult to say aloud quickly without spitting a little: All Ways Rockin’, Lionz of Zion, Beat Whakz and 4F (Flying Fists From the Floor).

But even with such strong (and numerous) b-boy ties, Toyz’s stories about his friends tend to sound like just that: stories about his friends. They’re normal people who like to have a good time, even if they go by names like Toyz and Napalm and Domkey.

It’s just that when he and his friends/crewmates have a good time, sometimes it can end up on YouTube. Then a bunch of people watch it, comment, and debate a lot about Toyz’s ethnicity (he’s Korean American).

But that’s not really the point.

“A lot of kids these days grew up thinking, ‘Oh, I’m in this big crew now,’ and they think they’re famous,” Toyz says. “But just because you’re in a big crew doesn’t mean people know who you are, you know?”

How, then, did he manage to get his name out? Toyz’s method was to do nothing special, kind of, which in turn ended up equating to everything.

“The best way to get yourself known, if you want to get your name out there, is to just do your own thing,” he says. “Get out to as many battles as you can. Win, roast people. You don’t even necessarily have to win battles. If you just stand out, people will notice you.

“You’re not gonna get big by posting a trailer of yourself after like two years of dancing or calling out judges just because you lost,” he continues. “Just do your thing. Just stay humble. Just enjoy yourself. That’s the most important part. Because while you’re enjoying yourself, other people will notice. And eventually, you know, fame and fortune will follow. But for those who purposely seek it, they tend to have a much harder time—they end up bothering others around them as opposed to getting their attention ripping the cypher or just repping [their] crew name.”

Photo by MurphYou get the feeling it’s not the first time he’s been asked that question. He does make a living answering questions.

While other 20-something-year-olds across the country are prolonging their educations in attempts to put off dealing with a dismal job market, Toyz teaches a class himself.

But there are a few items that might seem suspiciously absent from his lesson plans.

One is linked to the fact that Toyz actually looks like he’s having fun when he’s dancing.

“You see a lot of suburban cats that you know get into b-boying, and they kinda lose themselves in that character and try and act all hard and whatnot. They think they’re some tough little hoodlums,” he says. “But they’re not really that at all. In most of the cases, they probably have a really nice home, a really nice family. But then they get in the circle and try and talk all that trash and think they’re tough, but they’re not.

And the other thing? Toyz’s “nerd”-like tendencies and love for gadgets are no secret. But he’s quick to point out that a lot of this loss of originality and tendency to “front” can be attributed to technology.

“Nowadays, thanks to the internet, the moment they see one good b-boy, they all try to imitate them,” Toyz laments. “And they don’t have anyone to talk to. Or any peers to learn from. So they just sit home, watch videos, and they just bite everyone’s moves and style… They just stay trapped in a box. And they’re unable to think outside of it.”

So what, then, is it that ultimately inspires Toyz’s ability to think outside the box? Is it the anime? The girls? The chance to get flown out to countries where marijuana is legal?

“Well, I always tell other people this: I don’t wanna be the b-boy where people are like, ‘Oh, he moves just like this other guy,’” he says. “I wanna be the one where the kids go, ‘Oh, I wanna dance like him.’”

Toyz pauses briefly, perhaps realizing the irony of what he said.

Without missing a beat, he quickly adds, “Or, ‘Oh, I wanna have a crazy style that’s different from everyone else.’ That’s what motivates me in terms of my dancing.”

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B-boy Workshop Vol. 1 is the type of DVD I wish existed when I started dancing. There have been other instructional videos on b-boying in the past, but most either try to cover everything and end up teaching nothing, or they’re very focused on one aspect and you don’t necessarily walk away with the big picture. B-boy Workshop, on the other hand, somehow manages to cover every facet of b-boying and still go into more detail than most other DVD’s out there.

It begins with introductions from B-boy Focus, who teaches the moves, and drummer Ed Clery, who provides the beats throughout the DVD. After sharing their personal stories, they go on to give probably the most important lesson on any b-boy DVD: beat structure and basic rhythm. There’s a brief but important explanation of the main elements of the drum (kick, snare, high-hat) and how that relates to a 4 or 8 count.

This really sets the tone for the whole DVD; beyond the moves, B-boy Workshop puts a major emphasis on musicality. You’re not just learning a series of techniques, but you’re learning how those techniques relate to the music. This is something no other DVD has really put a major focus on. Storm’s Footwork Fundamentals touches on it briefly, but Focus reiterates and teaches this point throughout B-boy Workshop.

Speaking of techniques, B-boy Workshop covers all the major elements of a b-boy’s vocabulary; toprock, go-downs, footwork, freezes, and power moves. If you simply read the back of the DVD and see the move list, you might not be very impressed with CC’s, Indian step, six step, baby freeze, swipes, etc., but even veteran b-boys are going to learn a lot from this DVD. Focus gives several variations for moves that aren’t listed in the description, and he offers a lot of little tips to clean up the moves if you’ve been doing them a while but want to get them better. He also explains the role each element plays in the dance – toprock as your introduction, the freeze as your exclamation point, etc. He’s clearly put a lot of thought into how the dance is done, and it certainly pays for the viewer.

In terms of production quality, this is one of the best b-boy DVD’s I’ve seen. There’s excellent design from the DVD cover to menu layout and perfect picture and sound. In the footwork section, you get an overhead view to make sure you’re getting your foot placement right.

In terms of extras, you get a few solo throwdowns from Focus with Ed Clery playing in the background, but the real highlight is Eddie’s Beats. In each lesson on the DVD, Ed Clery plays a different breakbeat. In the Eddie’s Beats, extra you can listen to a looped version of every beat on the DVD (39 in all). This is highly useful since certain beats were specifically made to match certain moves so you can ensure that you’re on beat and improving your musicality.

The bottom line is if you’re just starting out, you need this DVD. And even if you’re not, you should probably still get it anyway.

BUY IT HERE.

Related posts:

1. Eyes On The Prize: An Interview With B-Boy Focus Of Flow-Mo Crew
2. IBE Preview: Focus
3. Giving Back: Kool Herc, K-Mel, Focus

Especially in an age of Internet fanboyism and YouTube addiction, there is an ever-growing disparity between the b-people you see online and the ones you meet in “real life.”

Even more unhealthy is the tendency for online “fans” to try and compare the two versions of a dancer.

That one guy with the super dynamic trailer? Could be bland in real life. Crew with decent sets online? Maybe they’re explosive in person. The one with the super clean runs on YouTube? Surprisingly sloppy in the cypher. The cat that looked huge on screen? Actually pretty short when you stand next to him.

It’s something that drives most better-known b-boys crazy. How, they often ask, can you expect to know somebody just from watching a few seconds of pixelated video of them dancing? It’s just not fair.

Focus of Flow-Mo Crew, on the other hand, doesn’t let it faze him. He’s, well, focus-ed on more important things.

“I am what you see when you see me dance. That’s me,” he explains, sitting in a parking lot in Rotterdam holding a plate of food.

The fresh-faced b-boy’s neatly cuffed jeans and unstained t-shirt don’t betray the fact that he’s just finished teaching an hour-long workshop. It’s a calm collectedness that sticks with him throughout the weekend, even as he competes in the Street Science Generations Battle and judges the World B-Boy Classic.

“I’m not one of those guys who dances in a different way than they are in real life,” he continues. “That’s me on the floor every time I dance, you know?”

It’s one of the most striking things about this b-boy from Helsinki, Finland. Judging from his aggressive battle style and short stature, aforementioned Internet-fanboys might expect this 26-year-old to be a brash hothead with a Napoleon complex.

Au contraire, mon frère. In the same way that his runs are swift and clean, everything about Focus – from his syntax to his clothes to his interactions – seems consistently calculated and deliberate.

His English is crisp. His words are pointed and well thought out. He even chews like he’s already planned the chicken’s route down his esophagus.

“I’m not one of those guys who dances in a different way than they are in real life. That’s me on the floor every time I dance, you know?”

It’s that same intentionality applied towards b-boying that’s gotten him noticed around the globe. If Focus’s dancing is a window into his character, meeting him in person or just peeking at his blog (which only hints at his vast knowledge of hip-hop history) serves as a step into that character – a character with a deliberate approach to noticing and appreciating the details.

“A lot of people these days are getting cocky. They don’t want to present themselves in the position of a student,” Focus says. “What makes Flow-Mo – what makes my crew – is we always learn from everybody else. Everywhere we go, we always learn. We flip everything and make it on the next level. That’s what defines Flow-Mo.”

It’s a habit that seems to have been ingrained in Focus ever since he first began dancing in 1995. For his first four years of dancing, his only resources were threefold: one b-boy from Finland’s ‘80s scene, Beat Street, and Wild Style. Focus and company pored over the tapes, trying to understand what was making the magic happen, literally studying each movement. As his dancing progressed, he began to make b-boy pilgrimages around the world, allowing his travels to become his teachers.

“I think after a rough start like this, with no Internet, no YouTube, or anything like this, it’s obvious nowadays. We appreciate the information that we had before a lot more,” he says.

It’s a sharp contrast from the fast food mentality of b-boys who want to get big quick and cash out.

For Focus and his crew, the nourishment that b-boying provides isn’t a quick sugary snack. It’s a well-balanced meal, with each bite carefully planned out and slowly savored. The flavor is there, but it’s meant to sustain and not just to entertain.

In tangible terms, this means Focus and his family keep their moves well-rounded. This is a man who is just as likely to throw airflares in a run as a set where he pretends one of his feet is stuck to the ground.

“The power is getting all the attention, but the real people with the real thirst for knowledge – they’re not getting the attention at all,” he laments. “The power is crazy. Some tricks are crazy. But the other aspects are not too strong, to be honest. I like to see all the aspects on the same level. When it comes to toprock, to footwork, everything, the character – everything should be on the same level.

“Everybody’s only focusing on getting ill power moves or ill tricks. And you even have whole events for this kind of style. But still I think all the other elements need to step their game up and get what they deserve.”

“There’s so much music, and it’s a limitless source for energy, for motivation, for inspiration, for creativity.”

But what exactly is it that the other elements – and the dancers themselves – are deserving of? Focus isn’t implying fame or victories. He waves off a question about what upcoming events or short-term goals he’s set his sights on. It seems that Focus’s scope works on a much larger scale.

“It’s not about one event or two competitions or a battle. It’s about finding yourself in a dance like this,” he says. “I wanna see my crew still active after 10 years. That’s the main goal for me: longevity. I know everybody’s gonna get injured and stuff like this. But I still wanna see them develop their style in a way that is good for their body as well. To still keep on going with the same passion and the same heart as before.”

But it’s still an uphill battle. Even though b-boying has equipped him to see the world, b-boys and b-girls still don’t get the recognition from the hip-hop community that is given to MC’s, DJ’s and aerosol artists. Even within the b-boy community, flash-in-the-pan stunts with good marketing still tend to grab the spotlight before committed contributors get the respect they deserve.

Focus has no qualms with admitting that he relies on a triad of inspirations – similar to his initial foray into b-boying – to motivate him to continue studying and dancing.

“Music, first of all,” he says. “There’s so much music, and it’s a limitless source for energy, for motivation, for inspiration, for creativity.”

“My crew. I see everybody developing all the time, and I don’t want to be left behind,” he says, laughing.

He can’t be blamed – Flow-Mo is becoming a household name among session spots worldwide, and like Focus, crewmates Hatsolo and Taya already have their own unofficial e-fan clubs.

It’s taking some getting used to.

“Sounds spooky,” Focus says, laughing between bites of food. “I get a lot of weird e-mails from different weird countries. And I don’t understand a word. But it’s still weird to see. I started breaking in small village of 8,000 people next to a small city – from this in the middle of a forest. From this circumstance, how can you get to having people knowing your name in Thailand or Korea or Japan? I don’t understand it.”

And his third source of motivation?

“Everybody I meet,” Focus says. “Every time I meet my friends, everybody gets better. So I need to practice to stay on the same level, you know?”

With all that training and study, it’s no surprise that there’s little time for anything else, especially when it comes to external factors like shit-talkers.

“There’s always people who talk shit,” Focus says. “Whatever field of life, if you get success, there’s going to be people talking shit about you. To me, that’s obvious. I don’t really pay attention to that.”

Of course not. He’s not called Focus for nothing.

But there’s no time to dwell on haters now, especially since the interview is wrapping up, and he’s returning his attention to his meal. After all, Focus seems determined to stay simultaneously hungry and nourished enough to make his meal at the b-boy table one that will last. And that’s something that should be obvious even to the laziest of YouTube viewers.

Related posts:

1. IBE Preview: Focus
2. Giving Back: Kool Herc, K-Mel, Focus
3. Focus’s B-Boy Workshop Vol. 1

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The question is this: when you walk into class on the first day, who are you likely to find standing at the lectern ready to pontificate on hip-hop? Will it be Professor Cornbeil in his crooked bowtie who feels the need to start every other sentence by saying, “Well, as The Notorious B.I.G. once said…”? Will it be Dr. Stangledorf who wears a new pair of shelltoes with his suit and tells you while passing out the course syllabus that “it’s gonna be the bomb!”? Or will it be Professor Duperstank who, upon hearing you ask if she is going to cover breaking in class says, “Yes, we’ll take a 15-minute break halfway through each class.”

“Even though your professor might not be a hip-hop head, he or she can still teach you something you can apply to hip-hop to better overstand it.”

Chances are, the person you see at the front of your hip-hop studies class won’t be one of these caricatures, but it also won’t be the same person stepping to you on Saturday in the cipher. Most likely, it will be someone who has a deep knowledge of a topic that is closely related to hip-hop such as African American history, Black music, or African American literature. If you’re lucky, it might be Tricia Rose, whose Black Noise established hip-hop as a viable topic of academic study in 1994. Or it might be Joe Schloss, who just published Foundation: B-boys, B-girls, and Hip-Hop Culture in New York through the prestigious Oxford University Press. In a few cases, you might have a younger professor in his or her 30s or 40s who grew up participating in and creating hip-hop and could actually step to you in the cipher. Overall, if you’re a b-boy or b-girl and you take a course in hip-hop, you’ll probably have a different experience in it than your professor and many other people in the class.

So what should be the position you play in class if both your professor and classmates have very different experiences and ideas about what hip-hop is? Basically, you have three options, each with their own consequences:

Option 1: Serve them all! Class is your cipher and you chop more heads than Alien Ness at a park jam. You look for every chance to correct your professor and classmates and point them to your path of hip-hop truth. You quote Afrika Bambaataa at least once every class. You throw burns as the professor whenever he or she says the word “breakdance.” And you diss other students when they wear scuffed sneakers or brand clash. Class is a battle and you’re taking out the suckers.

A normal photo from a normal Hip-Hop 101 class.

While this may your first reaction, taking this approach has some negative consequences. Your disagreeable attitude will probably give the professor good reason to give you a C- in the class, and chopping heads on the daily will have the rest of the class wondering at the end of the semester, “Why are breakdancers are so angry all the time?”

Option 2: Keep to yourself. Despite all the misinformation in the class, you avoid the wackness completely and don’t say a word. You figure you’ll just come to class, assume your sitting b-boy stance at a desk, do all of your work well, turn it in on time, and keep your hip-hop to yourself. This way, by the end of the semester, you’ll have a decent grade and not have absorbed any of the wackness around you.

While this option may help out your GPA and keep you from making enemies, it certainly won’t help you to enjoy the class, let alone learn anything. In fact, you’ll probably hate the class by the end of the semester, and you’ll have done nothing to help educate those around you.

Option 3: Each One Teach One. Yes, one of the timeless hip-hop mantras (which comes from the African proverb “Each One Teach Three”) applies to your university hip-hop class too. Think back to when you first started breaking and were sock-rocking and doing L-kicks. Someone was kind and patient enough to not just diss you but to take you aside and show you how to lace up a pair of Pro-Keds and rock right. And this is what you should do in your class.

When the time is right early in the semester, let people in class know what hip-hop and breaking mean to you. Ask them honestly what hip-hop means to them in return. Take stupid questions seriously, as it gives you a chance to educate them and better express yourself. Give them a flyer for a jam so they can come and see for themselves. Give them a CD of music you dance to in practice. Explain terminology such as “breaks,” “foundation,” “character,” and “style” as you understand them. Make it clear that there are different opinions, even within breaking and hip-hop communities. Realize that your perspective is limited and point them to better sources (such as interviews with older heads) than yourself.

As you educate those in the class, you should also be humble enough to learn something from the professor and his or her formal academic training. No, they might not have over 500 posts on Bboyworld, but they have knowledge that can enhance your dance. For example, seeing parallels between the African American literary practice of signifyin’ will help you understand why b-boys appropriate and mime moves from other dances (peep Henry Louis Gates, Jr.). Understanding the African Diaspora/Black Atlantic as a symbol for cultural hybridity will help you understand how hip-hop is composed of numerous fractured cultural traditions (check Paul Gilroy). In essence, even though your professor might not be a hip-hop head, he or she can still teach you something you can apply to hip-hop to better overstand it.

Overall, if you take this final option, not only will you enjoy the class, make a decent grade, and help your peers to respect breaking, but you’ll get your money’s worth and become a better b-boy or b-girl in the process.

Bustopher Jonez is the pen name for DJ Ill-Literate who, when not posing as a college professor, can be found at your local record store buying all the records you slept on.

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The year was 2007. The audience at the World UK B-Boy Championships was getting geared up for favorites like Lilou of Pockemon and Lil Bob of Killafornia. Crazy Legs was yelling, “Falling is not an option!”

Then, out of the woodwork came Menno, a young, Abercrombie & Fitch-model-looking b-boy from Holland.

Using his sprawling blonde hair to mop up the floor–and the competition–Menno dominated the one-on-one battles, beating out fan favorites to win the title and worldwide b-boy stardom.

Two years and countless video clips, message board bulletins, battles and titles later, Menno’s still not used to the being a b-boy celebrity.

“It’s funny when you go to Japan or any far country and people wanna have a picture with you or wanna have an autograph on their cap,” the 20-year-old says via e-mail.

But you can’t blame him for being unaccustomed to the idea of being a b-boy celebrity.

After all, Menno–whose parents named him Menno Van Gorp–was born, raised, and continues to live in Tilburg, a small town that’s historically considered to be a wool capital of the Netherlands.

Rather than weaving wool, however, Menno’s claim to fame was his ability to weave together his explosive moves.

Using an arsenal of signature slides, spins, and freeze transitions, Menno pulls and harnesses momentum from the most unlikely positions. His runs tell seamless stories with a flow that at once seems haphazard and carefully planned.

“I try to do everything and mix it in a original way,” Menno says. “I don’t have a typical style. I have my own style: punchlines.”

It’s an approach that that Menno seems to have mastered since he first saw b-boying in the video for Run-DMC’s “It’s Like That.” With the guidance of two older cousins and the full support of his parents, Menno began to carve out his own unique flavor.

“Once I tried it, I never stopped,” he says. “After my first battle, I knew I wanted to make it my own and become a real b-boy.”

Influenced by b-boys like Storm, Remind, Lil John, Maurizio, Rabbani and others from Aktuel Force and Skill Methodz, Menno’s skill helped him to get put down with Def Dogz when he visited Paris with Xisco in late 2005. Only two years later, Alien Ness put him down with the Mighty Zulu Kings.

But Menno seems to draw the most inspiration from his Tilburg-based crew Hustle Kidz, which now includes members from all around Holland after its inception in 2006.

“The scene in my city is all fam, you know–everybody knows each other and there’s no beefs or whatever,” Menno says. “There are like 15 to 20 b-boys in my city–not much, but enough. Holland-wise, it’s getting better as well, with many up-and-coming b-boys.”

The growing community has fostered a greater frequency of events as well.

“Almost every weekend, there’s a jam somewhere; a few years ago there were only like six jams in a year,” Menno says. “We did our own event, Autumn Madness. We will be back with that event at the end of the year or spring of 2010–we’re gonna do something dope. You’re definitely gonna hear more about Holland.”

And while Holland’s scene cuts it teeth with its next generation of b-boys and b-girls, Menno is busy seeing the world as he travels the battle circuit.

“If you think too much about being original, you’re gonna be stuck some day. The most stupid or easy movements can be dope; don’t dig too deep!”

A fulltime b-boy, he pays the bills by teaching workshops, performing at shows, battling and judging events. His free time is spent with his crew as well, which he calls a “real family.”

So far, his adventures have taken him across “beautiful” countries like Japan, Korea, Russia and the U.S.

Such experiences seem to have given Menno a unique outlook when it comes to creating and training.

For example, he doesn’t train specially for battles anymore.

“I used to for days, but I know myself as a b-boy now–I know what I can do and my moves and transitions,” he says.

He also advises new b-boys and b-girls not to over-think the dance.

“Just be yourself. Don’t try to be another guy who you look up to,” he says. “You can have your inspirations, but keep it yours and don’t believe the hype! Just do what you feel and what you like. Sometimes you don’t have to think; you have to do it and follow your body. If you think too much about being original, you’re gonna be stuck some day. The most stupid or easy movements can be dope; don’t dig too deep!

“Get your basics first–that’s so important,” he continues. “I think the big ‘foundation’ hype was good after all. I don’t like to see everyone in the same outfits and the same tops and basic moves, but now it’s getting better because people are starting to find their own way in that.”

Menno says he finds his own inspiration to keep up with the best from good music, including soul, funk and hip-hop, and the b-boys with whom he trains.

It seems he’ll need all the inspiration he can get, as he hopes to continue travelling and “drop bombs” at Freestyle Session in the near future–and be remembered as a b-boy legend in the more distant future.

“I hope that b-boys still watch my clips like I watch clips now from Maurizio, Gabin, Karim, Barouche and Storm and have someone be like, ‘Daaaamn, he would still smoke a lot of b-boys right now.’ That’s the ultimate goal for me,” he says.

Menno admits that he’s also tossed around the idea of going to college later on to learn photography as a backup. But for now, it seems, his b-boy life is already picture-perfect.

“I want to see more of the world, and that’s possible with my dance,” he says. “On weekends being invited somewhere around the world-I love this life. Everything’s going well with breaking now, and I don’t wanna waste that. I wanna enjoy that as long as possible.”

*Alternate titles for this feature included “93 Tilburg Infinity” and “Holla Holland.”

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The name that the 23-year-old is referring to, of course, is his b-boy name—Palmer.

It’s a name that’s gained significant recognition in the b-boy community throughout the country. It’s a name that’s been shouted from stages and ciphers across the globe. And, as he’s just revealed, it’s a name that was inspired by an incident involving people getting slapped on the crotch.

Admittedly, it’s a pretty silly name with a pretty silly origin. The story won’t be retold in its entirety here, but suffice it to say that the members of HaviKoro like to rag on each other. The events of one particular session spurred a nickname, and the nickname stuck.

Heckle as they may, for the b-boys in Texas, b-boying is no joke. A lot of people have said a lot of things about Texas, and a lot of those sayings are bullshit.

But it is true that some things are bigger in Texas. Anyone who’s seen the powermoves and blow ups coming out of the state can attest to that.

And, like the t-shirts warn, you may want to rethink any plans you have to mess with Texas b-boys. The overall skill level and battle intensity of the state is high, and it shows in everything from the b-boy’s clothes to their swagger.

“The Texas scene is really different,” Palmer says. “I guess because Texas is so fucking big. It really has its own identity. People are really proud of where they’re from. They’re really proud of their own original styles.”

And the pride runs even deeper for the state’s individual crews. Cliché as it might sound, the crews of b-boys and b-girls are like families—dysfunctional at times, yes, but still close-knit.

And maybe that’s part of the reason why Palmer is OK with being called Palmer. Weird and kinky as it may be, it’s the name that was given to him by his b-boy family, and Palmer is fiercely loyal to his family—whether it’s his b-boy one or his biological one.

He wasn’t always one of the gang. When Palmer talks about b-boys and even members of his own crew, it’s easy to hear the excitement of a kid who just saw b-boying live for the first time.

For Palmer, it happened with a few friends who practiced powermoves. As a 13-year-old, he was at a house party when he saw guys in “big-ass bubble jackets” busting loose in the garage.

“They were doing these footwork things,” Palmer says. “I had never seen anything like that. I had seen powermoves. It was like, ‘Yo, man, this is some really creative stuff.’ I sat on it for maybe a week or two just thinking about it. It seemed like something I would really like.”

Growing up in a lower income Mexican household in the Galveston area meant it was a little more difficult to immerse himself in the b-boy culture, even after Palmer decided he’d give it a shot.

“I feel like b-boys nowadays—they take b-boying too seriously. Not that you shouldn’t take the art form seriously, but that’s all they think about and all they want from life. A lot of b-boys take b-boying seriously, but they don’t take life seriously.”

So for his fourteenth Christmas, he asked his father for a single gift: “a break-dancing video.”

And his dad came home with B-Boy Summit 3.

After watching the Rock Steady vs. Style Elements battle countless times and receiving help from some high school friends, Palmer ventured to Youth Advocates in Houston. As he puts it, it was an experience that “opened his eyes” at the age of 15.

“Fuck, dude, I’ll never forget it,” Palmer says. “These dudes come in—Lil John’s wearing a tight ass spandex shirt and shit. He doesn’t even go down. He gets a massage by a girl. Then he’s looking all relaxed and shit, and he starts busting power. I was like, ‘Whoa, oh my gosh!’”

Not only did the creativity and the intensity of the b-boys there blow his mind, but in light of racial tensions plaguing the area at the time, Palmer was drawn to the fact that b-boying allowed people of all different races to vibe together peacefully.

Through his friend Dirty, a fellow member of Grimeez Crew at the time, Palmer began to session with members of HaviKoro. Over time, he was able to meet, befriend, and even battle with them at B-Boy Summit 2003—seven years after poring over his first “break-dance” video. A couple of years later, he was added as an official member of the crew.

“They taught me everything I know,” Palmer says. “I feel like I was really blessed to be around them. A lot of people don’t get to grow up around people like that. I felt like I was really privileged—to be around that knowledge.”

Even towards of the end of the interview, when asked if there’s anything he’d like to add, Palmer overflows with gratitude to his crewmates.

“Even with really personal stuff I go through with my family, they’re willing to give their opinions and stuff,” he says. “I really owe them a lot.”

But HaviKoro isn’t the only family from which Palmer draws inspiration.

It’s a bit of a paradox; it was his two families’ support of his b-boying that helped Palmer overcome his reserved nature in the first place.

But at the same time, Palmer says that same support and responsibility has also kept him from getting too caught up in b-boying.

“I feel like b-boys nowadays—they take b-boying too seriously. Not that you shouldn’t take the art form seriously, but that’s all they think about and all they want from life. A lot of b-boys take b-boying seriously, but they don’t take life seriously. There’s so much more in life that can make you happy,” Palmer says.

“If you’re happy with life, it transcends into your b-boying,” he explains. “If I don’t train, but I’m happy, I’ll dance good. If I’m confident in my life, I have nothing to fear in my dancing. B-boys who are really, really good usually have a good outlook on life. Everything you do in life transcends into your dancing. I know b-boys who practice so much, but they don’t get nowhere. It’s not their drive to be good, but other things are holding them back.”

It is a bit strange to hear a 23-year-old wax philosophical about the interplay of life, happiness, and dance.

But for Palmer, holding down a fulltime job—as well as serving as a fulltime husband, father, and member of HaviKoro—seems to have given him a radical change in perspective.

When his wife became pregnant, Palmer says many people expected him to quit dancing. Instead, he opted for better time management. Time and money didn’t allow for college. He loved b-boying, but he didn’t love the idea of getting stuck in a cycle of not being able to provide food for his family or not taking his responsibilities seriously.

So he began working at a warehouse at a chemical plant, “lifting shit, using a forklift, doing whatever they tell me to do, and being a slave and shit.”

But years of 12-hour days seem to have paid off. He’s worked his way up to the position of salesman, meaning he helps order materials like pipes, valves, and fittings for chemical plant projects.

His bosses, whom Palmer describes as “rednecks” who look up his YouTube videos and ask him if he does what the JabbaWockeeZ do, still allow him to travel. And with a house, a car, a wife, a son, a crew, and the dance, Palmer seems genuinely happy.

“Even before you called me, I practiced an hour with my son,” he explains. “He’s three and doesn’t know what he’s doing, but he looks like he’s having so much fun. I feel like when people are dancing, just not thinking of anything, it’s just like when you’re a little kid.”

Palmer’s son, of course, is the wide-eyed baby that giggles and toddles around in almost all of Palmer’s b-boy clips. His name is Josiah, and Palmer says his son has helped him to appreciate b-boying in new ways, from his propensity to exclaim, “Watch! B-boy! HaviKoro! B-boy!” to his love for his daddy and the dance.

Photo by Peter Tsai

“It makes me happy when I see people dancing,” Palmer says. “I don’t look at skill. If you have a cool persona and I can see you’re really trying, that means the world to me. It’s not about being the best and all that. It makes me happy just seeing somebody dancing and having fun. Winning a competition doesn’t make me happy. Even winning Freestyle Session or a Spy Award or whatever—nothing will compare to sitting in garage practicing with my son.”

But make no mistake: at the end of the day, Palmer is still a b-boy—a b-boy from Texas and a member of HaviKoro, at that.

His satisfaction doesn’t just root from the fact that he’s a b-boy who’s also been able to make money and support his family. It’s more so that his accomplishments seem to have allowed him to better appreciate b-boying itself.

That’s due in part to the fact that Palmer’s responsibility and loyalty have increased his senses of individuality and creativity, rather than stifling them.

It’s obvious in his dance. Palmer isn’t set apart from other b-boys just because of his views; those experiences and perspectives have allowed him to create a uniquely eye-dazzling flow. He moves with a deliberate smoothness as he twists and turns his way through crazy tricks and transitions—the way an octopus might look if it decided to learn foundational b-boy moves.

Palmer attributes it to his practice regimen, his music, and his inspirations.

“From the beginning, I wasn’t really drawn to powermoves,” Palmer says. “I was drawn to do my thing and look like myself. From the beginning, originality was the key.”

Palmer credits a lot of his inspiration to Texas’s b-boy OGs, b-boys like Megas, and peers like the aforementioned Dirty and Chao, a visiting member of the Waseda Breakers who would later return to Japan to open a store called “HaviKoro Toy.”

Palmer says he devoted three years of practice exclusively to developing threads and transitions with his friends. He also continues to train by having his brother call out steps for him do in his footwork.

“He’ll call out things like, ‘Two step. Four step. Frosty Freeze on one hand. Go back the other way.’ It gets mad tiring—it feels like you ran five miles or something,” Palmer says.

And, group-oriented as he is, Palmer says he also needs time alone to develop his own ideas.

“Sometimes I like to be by myself and just have my own time,” he says. “Sometimes I’ll lay on the floor on my back and just lay there for 15 minutes, just thinking about stuff. I’ll get in a trance and think of stuff in my head and go from there. I’ll twist my body this way and that way, and hopefully I remember it.”

The music helps, too. Palmer says he’s recently begun listening to more mellow sounds from musicians like Maynard Ferguson to help him flow in and out of moves.

His individualistic tendencies can also rub off on his choice of clothing, which has gotten him flack from some of his crew members for breaking one of the cardinal rules of b-boying: “Thou shalt dress fresh(ly).”

“Lots of people are trying to get into this ‘b-boy’ thing and learn foundation or wear these certain clothes,” Palmer says. “I even get flagged for it down here too. I like to practice in comfort. Sometimes I’ll go to Target and get sweats, some Hanes t-shirts, and old Reeboks. I’m not trying to look good for you—some people have just lost their originality.”

But for the most part, Palmer’s ability to balance his relationships and his individuality goes appreciated—and he appreciates that in return.

His flavor and his attitude have enabled him to travel across the world for the glory of b-boying.

In 2007, T.I.P Crew flew him out to Korea to judge a jam, and in June of 2008, he was flown out for a jam in Spain. There, he was surprised to find that the local b-boys had ripped the audio from one of his trailers—with Palmer’s voice, his son dancing, and all—to use as music to play during their practice sessions.

“It makes me feel good—like you’ve done something that somebody across the whole world sees you doing and thinks you’re dope,” Palmer says.

He hopes to throw his own jams in the near future too—the kind that inspired him so much when he first began to dance. And he’s been compiling footage for a solo DVD that may not be too far off in the future either.

But he still can’t seem to fully wrap his head around the fact that the kid who once memorized B-Boy Summit 3 and idolized HaviKoro has been able to come so far.

“I have a full-time job and shit,” he says. “When I first got into it, I didn’t think I’d be giving interviews for websites. Somebody has an interest in my life, and that’s crazy. I’m just here doing my thing in Texas, doing creative moves with this dance. I try to live a normal life.”

At least, as normal a life that a guy known as “Palmer” can hope to live.

Related posts:

1. Peter Tsai’s BBoy City 16 Flicks
2. Eyes On The Prize: An Interview With B-Boy Focus Of Flow-Mo Crew
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One of the saddest moments of my b-boy life happened just a few weeks ago. While sessioning with some younger b-boys, I said something along the lines of, “Yeah, Abstrak does something similar to that.” Their response: “Who’s Abstrak?”

Now these aren’t mere e-boys. These guys have been training hard and burning up cyphers for a good year or two. As I fought back tears, I tried to think of just how they had never heard of Abstrak, a legend in my mind.

I know that not everyone idolizes the same b-boys that I do, but I had never come across anyone, let alone a group of four or five b-boys, that had never even heard of Abstrak. Could it be that they had seen him and just not taken a second look? No, that’s close to impossible. Abstrak is not the type of b-boy that you see once and forget.

And so I theorized that perhaps, in this world of YouTube clips and overall extreme media saturation, not having a solo video or 100 YouTube clips was the equivalent of not existing to some.

And so to some, Abstrak’s solo DVD Abstrumental is far overdue. J Dilla (RIP) was often called “your favorite producer’s favorite producer.” Similarly, Abstrak is likely your favorite b-boy’s favorite b-boy. He’s been dancing since he was seven and has participated in the infamous Lords of the Floor and Who Can Roast The Most battles as well as countless others across the globe. His technicality, flow, originality and power give something for all walks of 12-year-old online b-boy critics to hate on (I kid, I kid).

But does all this dickriding by yours truly mean that I can’t give a fair review to this DVD? Probably. But that’s not going to stop me from trying.

1. Abstrumental is not lacking for footage. At 87 minutes, with extras, it’s enough to split into two or three viewings.
2. Speaking of extras, some of the best parts of the DVD are in the bonus section. Abstrak gives us a nice Q&A, answering questions as broad as “How do I practice/create?” There’s also footage of him practicing and an “Archive Section,” which organizes clips based on what event they are from. You’ve probably seen these clips on other DVDs, but it’s really nice to have them all together.
3. Abstrak is crazy dope.
4. His daughter is cute. I’m a sucker for little kids dancing like no one is watching (you’ll see).

The main feature mixes highlight clips with short interview footage as well as a nice feature of his inspirations, featuring the entire Skill Methodz crew, Kwikstep, Ken Swift and more. There are also a few portions that are obviously shot specifically for the DVD of him dancing in some interesting settings.

My disappointment in most b-boy DVDs is because I can watch clips on YouTube all day from my favorite dancers. So when I see a DVD that is almost all those same clips compiled into an hour long feature, it’s frustrating. Abstrak does a good job of showing us footage we haven’t seen before alongside some interesting glimpses into his life, such as the practice footage and interviews.

The parts that bothered me were nitpicky at best. There’s a problem with Title Safe, meaning that some of the years and text on screen will be cut off when you watch it on your TV. There are some distracting video effects and filters as well, which seems to be a common problem with b-boy and b-girl videos.

Other than those small problems, and the Main Menu button not working on the Archives section, I can’t find any glaring problems. Call me biased, I don’t give a shit, this DVD is 100% better than 99% of the DVDs out there, and that’s a pretty nice accomplishment.

BUY IT HERE

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3. An Update

Fortunately, Omar O. Delgado Macias of Richmond, California, was able to rise to the challenge.

Simply put, Delgado – better known as RoxRite – rocks right, the way one should b-boy. It shows in his collection of 61 tournament victories around the world, including 21 one-on-one tournament victories.

When he dances, each of his movements seems deliberate and precise. His flow somehow manages to be very light and buoyant but also solid and aggressive.

And the 26-year-old doesn’t just rock one “style” either. From his smooth footwork to his powermoves to his signature freeze combinations, everything RoxRite does seems suspended in time and space. And because he seems to be able to break the law of gravity, he’s able to follow the law of never, ever crashing.

And that’s why the name fits him so well. Like his dancing flavor, it’s pretty straightforward yet also mind-blowingly profound.

Of course, a dope name doesn’t always make a dope b-boy. In fact, for RoxRite, the name only seems to confirm what’s been a part of him ever since he was born.

Sure, it takes a lot of dedication and training to get on RoxRite’s level. But in the same way that he makes b-boying seem effortless, he makes living the life of a struggling “freelance b-boy” look so natural that it almost seems like it was a matter of fate.

Even before he could remember it, his parents would take him to parks in Mexico to watch the local b-boys when he was “real little.”

The small child would sit and watch for hours, mesmerized by their movements.

Perhaps it was a matter of destiny, then, that when he saw some kids dancing at his junior high school in California, something inside him clicked.

“It kinda reminded me of me. I saw that it was something I could relate to,” RoxRite says, speaking quietly. “I could relate to the people that did it. It had something that was me. It was challenging, and the mentality was coming from a certain background – hip-hop. You can relate to it more because it comes from like a struggle background.”

It was 1995, and the deal was sealed. He was going to be a b-boy.

Fourteen years later, RoxRite still isn’t used to being a b-boy celebrity with worldwide b-boy fame.

For instance, there was the girl on MySpace who was flaunting the title of being “RoxRite’s wifey.”

Except there was one problem: RoxRite had no idea who she was. So he deleted her.

RoxRite’s nervous laugh gives away his confusion regarding the uncomfortable, albeit humorous, situation.

“You have people constantly asking questions on a personal level,” he says. “It’s not like musicians where you have somebody representing them or running their MySpace or Facebook. You’re dealing with a person, and you respond yourself. Everything you say, they take, so you try and give the best advice you have.”

People get star struck in person, too.

There are those who comment that he looks taller in videos. And then there are those who express their surprise that he has more moves in real life than he does in his videos.

And though he’s never tried to recruit fans or win over followers, RoxRite seems to deal it with the same humble patience and logic that he applies to the rest of his life. It’s all part of being a good b-boy, and he was born loving b-boying, so he does his best.

“I’m glad people can look up to me,” RoxRite says. “I’ll try and help you even if I only have a short amount of time. But it’s still just kinda mind-blowing – it’s all new to me. It’s like, damn, I wonder how other people deal with this.”

A lot of b-boys and b-girls dream of being “famous” – of being featured on music videos and movies, gaining fame not just in the b-boy community but in the mainstream media as well.

RoxRite, however, intentionally avoids that path. Not that there’s anything wrong with being a performer, he insists; it’s just not for him. He’s just innately more comfortable with pure, unadulterated b-boying.

Sure, he’s done his share of shows, and he did have a stint dancing for the Golden State Warriors. In fact, he seems to have a pretty good understanding of what it takes to be the sort of b-boy it takes to survive in the show business.

“You’re going to wanna perform for people, so they’ll hire you based on that,” he explains. “Your career is in movies, so what I recommend is that you learn acting. You’ll wanna do eye-catching shit – flips, headspins. And you can learn more dances.”

But his real passion isn’t as much about entertaining and hyping up crowds as much as it is about battling and teaching others about the culture.

“I like to perform, but only if it’s in a certain way I can relate to,” RoxRite says. “I don’t like to audition for performances or anything like that. It’s like, that energy where an entertainer yells, ‘Clap your hands! Clap your hands!’ isn’t my personality.”

In fact, there was a long period of time where RoxRite didn’t even feel like he had the credibility to be a teacher.

“Now I’m at a place where I don’t consider myself a master teacher, but I have good things to pass down,” he says.

In a typical RoxRite workshop, he might answer some questions about history, cover some steps and drills, go over some tactics for “coming up with new stuff from old stuff,” and show how to build improve on strength, flow, and overall cleanliness (in terms of the moves, not one’s hygiene).

And he may talk a bit about battling – one of the few topics that causes a break in RoxRite’s usually calm, quiet voice, revealing the natural passion and aggression he has bubbling inside.

“A lot of it is mental – you have to not fear your opponent,” RoxRite begins. “That’s the number one thing, first off. Don’t underestimate anybody, but don’t fear anybody.

“Let’s say there’s an airbaby trick you’ve got,” he continues, outlining an example of a battle strategy he uses. “Say you wanna set them up for this. You throw a complex round with technical things, then go into a quick airbaby. The guy says, ‘I got something for that.’ Then he throws something with an airbaby. Then you respond with your killer. Set them up for defeat. That’s very old school. It comes from ‘90s power.

“There’s many more ways of how to attack,” RoxRite concludes. “You always want to be confident, but not too cocky. You gotta believe in yourself, or then people watching or judging aren’t gonna believe in you in the battle. Carry that with you.”

Of course, what constitutes a “battle” has changed a lot, even in the time that RoxRite has been dancing.

Though he primarily makes a living by competing in organized battles, RoxRite says nothing can compare with circle battles when it comes to squashing beef, testing yourself, and learning how to battle in the first place.

“In long round battles, you see who’s really holding it down,” he says. “In short-round battles anybody can lose – you might be doing warm-up shit or your heaviest shit. A real, real battle is in circles for me, honestly. You go and push yourself to the limit. You have circle battles nowadays where they wanna battle three or four rounds. That’s not a really real battle in my eyes.

“Before I competed, I battled at schools, at dances – everywhere I went, I battled,” RoxRite continues. “You go until you quit or you’re obviously dominating that battle. Circle battles are more important if you’re learning how to battle. You have to get a feeling for that. You really have to learn how to go at it – not just talking shit, but really exchanging moves. When you really test yourself, you learn what you need to do better. That’s how you progress. Then, in a competition, you feel more comfortable, and it’s easier to jump out in a tournament, since four rounds ain’t shit if you’ve battled 20, 25 rounds.”

And the Internet has changed the idea of paying dues as well.

For newer generations, the most visible form of exposure has come through Internet footage. For some new b-boys and b-girls, the tried and true method of paying your dues in real-life scenarios has been replaced by flaunting a résumé of video clips.

It doesn’t feel right to RoxRite.

“Before, you had to grind it out to get that rep. People still need to go by that, “RoxRite says. “For people that don’t have access to hip-hop that we have, where b-boying is not as big yet and it’s very secluded, then it’s understandable. But people who are trailer-this or trailer-that – that’s for a movie. If you’re coming out with a DVD, then it’s a trailer. If not, then it’s a clip. Go battle people. Go build your rep. Go let people know what you’re capable of doing. Seems like people are too caught up – they just wanna be so big so fast. Give it time.”

RoxRite pauses. Ever the strategic battler, he considers his own words.

“And just so people know, I didn’t put all those videos of me out there. I’ve only put up a Break Disciples one and maybe one more and that’s it,” he says. “I also hear people say that I don’t hit up circles. Well, that’s just what they think. Just because I don’t hit the same circle you was in doesn’t mean I didn’t.”

Natural defensiveness aside, one of the most striking things about RoxRite is how unusually humble he is.

More and more nowadays, it seems like the line between b-boy battle braggadocio and real-life drama is getting blurred. RoxRite, on the other hand, actually seems content. Maybe it’s just his personality or just how he handles all things b-boying internally; he’s obviously still hungry, but he speaks with a overall tone of ease that most other b-boys seem to lack.

For example, even though winning or losing a battle can mean having money for rent or not, he makes a point never to harass judges, even when they may have made poor decisions.

“They saw it a certain way that moment,” RoxRite explains. “I’m not gonna change the outcome by asking them. It’s good to learn history and foundation – that’s good. But I’m not gonna change my way of dance because I lost and you tell me I should do it a certain way. When I lose, it’s just whatever. You win some, you lose some.”

And RoxRite doesn’t seem hung up on the fact that he hasn’t struck riches, either. He’s surprisingly open and unashamed about his humble financial situation.

It hasn’t been that long since he was able to leave behind the food industry. One can only imagine how many pizza customers opened the door impatiently, completely oblivious to the fact that their pizza delivery guy was one of the most respected b-boys in the world.

In early 2007, he was working three jobs to support himself after half a year of not working because of an injury.

Sure, it would be nice if b-boys could rake in cash. But RoxRite seems to have come to terms with the fact that non-entertainer b-boys usually don’t make a ton of money – like it was a condition he knew about and signed up for from the beginning.

Most people are never forced sit down and choose between making tons of money or being a b-boy. But one gets the feeling that RoxRite already chose long ago, and his commitment to b-boying was unshakeable. It makes sense; he just really, really loves being a b-boy.

And for that reason, it seems difficult for him to think of anything he doesn’t like about the state of b-boying – he’d rather talk about why he loves it.

“It’s everywhere. That, in itself, is beautiful,” RoxRite says. “In almost every country, somebody is there that breaks or tries to break. When I was young and first started, I never would have imagined that there were b-boys everywhere, and they’re all positive. Hip-hop and b-boying are positive movements.

“It’s weird – it’s like a code we live by. It’s hard to explain. Makes me feel like, damn, that’s crazy. That’s beautiful and dope. To inspire somebody from South Africa be like, ‘Oh! RoxRite!’ – it’s dope. And everybody keeps it positive. As far as b-boys, they all wanna learn, dance, and keep dance alive.”

He seems especially grateful that for the past few months, he’s been able to rely completely on dancing to pay the bills for the first time in his life.

It’s what he calls being a “freelance b-boy,” meaning he takes on different b-boys jobs without a steady pay. Up to four times a month, he’ll take jobs judging in Florida or Chicago, or maybe going to battle in Portugal or France.

“For now, I just continue to pursue my passion,” he explains. “I do have a girlfriend that I live with. We support each other, which is a really good thing to have. With b-boying, I am able to support myself financially, but at times, it gets a little tight.”

Though being a “freelance b-boy” may not be the most lucrative profession, it’s not without its perks – like, say, traveling around the world for free.

RoxRite fondly reminisces about trips to Brazil, South Africa, and Australia as well as jams like the UK B-Boy Championships in 2005 or Pro-Am in 1999 that inspired him so much.

“Those moments were important,” he says. “That was like, ‘Whoa, damn. This is something I really like.’ I felt like I could live doing this.”

And this past December, he was even able to travel to lead a workshop in the Middle East.

“In Kuwait, b-boying is illegal,” RoxRite says. “Even clubbing is illegal. To see them and to see kids get down – it was inspiring because they have the heart to do what they like to do.”

Of course, there are travel stories galore, like the one about how RoxRite managed to win a jam in Japan in 2006, even with an almost-broken arm.

After hearing a ripping side from the muscle above the back of his elbow, he decided to battle alongside Lego anyway.

“It started to swell up into a ball,” RoxRite says. “It was fucking hard. I did that battle doing stuff on my left hand. I didn’t tell people like, ‘Oh, I’m hurt.’ What the fuck am I gonna do? It was really painful. It turned black and purple, and the swelling went down to my wrist. I was just a guy playing his role – you do what you can. People talk, and they don’t know. They’re gonna say what they’re gonna say – I’m not gonna go out there and be like ‘Yeah, I was hurt!’”

With his arm still badly injured, RoxRite competed against Juice Boogie the next week at the UK B-Boy Championships, and he was still injured when he won third place at the Red Bull BC One Sao Paulo.

That fierce commitment to the game seems to go hand in hand with RoxRite’s love for experiencing different cultures.

“That’s dope when you can tell the difference between b-boys because each area has its own flavor,” he notes as he reminisces about his travels. “It’s learning about the roots of where you’re coming from. Learn the history of your area. Learn about the people who were there before.”

Even having traveled so much, RoxRite says he still hopes to visit Russia, Greece, and the Caribbean some day, and he dreams of the day when he will be able to claim 100 wins.

And considering that he trains enough to be a serious competitor even when he’s seriously injured, his goals don’t seem too far-fetched.

Even when you’re being flown out to b-boy events four times a month, it leaves a lot of downtime between gigs.

For RoxRite, a lot of that time goes into training and developing new combos and moves.

As mentioned earlier, RoxRite has an unmistakably clean and fluid flow, and he attributes much of that flavor to his disciplined approach to training.

“I never intentionally try to be like this way or look a certain way,” he says. “I guess what it comes from is the mentality of always knowing when I dance, I do stuff that I can do. Say I’m in a battle – I’m not gonna try moves I haven’t got down. If I feel moves, I’ll do that move at that moment.”

Of course, there are inevitably haters who are quick to criticize RoxRite’s success and style. Some accuse him of being too basic, while others claim that RoxRite uses sets.

RoxRite addresses these accusations by attributing them to a lack of understanding and by welcoming any challengers to battle him.

“Just because my freestyle doesn’t look like I’m about to fall or I’m catching myself doesn’t mean it’s not freestyling,” he says. “I have moves, not sets – what I do is just try to combine my moves in different ways. When I get down, I think of at least four or five moves. Then what I do is freestyle in and out of those moves. Sometimes, shit’s flowing more, so I can add more. Sometimes it’s not, so I cut it short.”

It’s all part of RoxRite’s strategy of training by falling in and out of his moves in different ways.

“Certain little steps will trigger certain movements,” he says. “When I practice, I try many different little things. I try to practice all these other moves I haven’t done in while and kinda just do them from different angles. Like, a CC to ninja freeze to continuous windmill to backspin – you try stuff differently.”

And with the name RoxRite, it’s no surprise that music is an essential part of getting his creative juices flowing when he trains.

“That’s what’s gonna make me come up with new stuff,” he says. “If you get a good break or a good beat, you get a certain energy, and you wanna release that energy. Freezes to me are like releasing a certain energy. That’s me releasing energy that beat gives me, to come up with certain things. A good beat, a rare break, a dope song that I’ve never really breaked to before will give me a new feeling, a new movement.”

But RoxRite’s practice music diet isn’t just limited to traditional breaks, either.

“Some hip-hop shit with MCing is more mellow. Like, Nas helps because it gets you zoned out,” he says. “You listen more to the flow and get in the flow and mentality. You hit the floor and flow around with freezes and sets. That’s what helps me – it zones me out to where I can concentrate more.”

Sometimes, keeping your concentration as a b-boy means you have to take a break from breaking.

“At times, I take breaks, weeks at a time, to feel renewed and refresh my mind,” RoxRite admits. “You can’t be on overdrive all the time – eventually, you’ll break down. So doing that helps me a lot.”

He also spends his free time as a self-taught video editor. After studying books and fooling with different software, RoxRite was able to edit and produce his own solo DVD with help from Kid David in 2006.

It was only a matter of time before bootleggers had ripped the “Straight Up B-Boy” and made it available for download online.

“As long as you’re selling your DVDs in your possession, and it’s not affecting you, that’s straight. It’s gonna happen anyway,” RoxRite admits. “In a way, it’s good for us, but some of us are trying to survive from it. Support your community – those in the community are gonna wanna give back, and you’ll want people to support you too. For us to grow, we need to support.”

He’s even considered going back to school to learn film in the future, especially since he believes that b-boying deserves quality documentation.

Again, RoxRite’s uncanny calm ability to handle b-boy business shines through. People are downloading his hard-earned work without supporting the culture. He really hasn’t thought much about the future other than that he might be able to fall back on film one day.

But at the end of the day, it always comes back to the dance: RoxRite is a b-boy. He loves b-boying.

RoxRite says he’s never thought about quitting the dance, even if he has to work different jobs or quit traveling as much in the future. After all, b-boying is not just his profession, but how he’s chosen to live his life.

For all practical purposes, it seems like the perfect extension of his personality and his abilities – almost as if he was chosen by b-boying, rather than him choosing to b-boy.

And with a strong support network from associated crews including Renegades, Footwork Fanatics, and Break Disciples (which he started along with Kid David in 2006), it doesn’t seem as if RoxRite will stop rocking right anytime soon.

Even as this feature was in the works, RoxRite was preparing for a trip to Portugal and planning on a future move to San Diego.

“That feeling you get when you’re dancing all day and it’s like, ‘Damn, I gotta do this again tomorrow’ – that inspires me to compete and battle and to travel,” RoxRite says. “Before, I wanted to come up and break and do this and that. Where I’m at now, I dance for the love of it. I wanna carry on this tradition – to be able to be one b-boy that can carry on this artform.”

He pauses.

“This is what I learned, and in a way, this is all I have.”

Related posts:

1. RoxRite: The Difference between Stacks and Freeze Frames
2. DJ Franco De Leon – Hot Butter Breaks
3. Deck Brothers – Breaks Of Fury

But seriously, do you really think that those so-called “real b-boys” aren’t sitting on their couches right now, searching through the 14 billion YouTube clips (I made that number up), trying to entertain themselves? And what better way to do that than to watch the most viewed category of YouTube clips in the world: b-boying (also made that up).

We know you’ve all watched the big videos of this year, but do you really need to watch Casper vs. Menno again? So instead of reposting all the videos you’ve already seen, we’ve tried to come up with a list of 10 videos that you may have missed in 2008. We hope you enjoy them.

10. Japan (Shie Chan & Narumi) vs. Spain B-Girl Battle BOTY 2007

Dopeness all around! All four b-girls bring their own unique flavor and energy to the battle, and all four are at the top of their games.

9. Bgirl Jess / B-Unit Ibérica 2008

The flawless set that B-Girl Jess throws down is good enough, but what the cameraman says afterwards is what really makes this clip stand out.

8. Battle Driven (Drew/L10) vs. Squishy Docious(Green/Saewl)

Some battles are just fun to watch, regardless of how good the b-boying is. Luckily, the b-boying isn’t really in question in this battle, and even if they aren’t repping the “I’ll eat your baby’s fingers” b-boy battle mentality, their attitudes are one of the main reasons this clip is so good.

7. San Francisco Dance Event – 2v2s

With a ton of great b-boys going really hard, this clip gives you lots of different styles. Some b-boys you’ll recognize and others you won’t, but by the end of the eight minutes, you’ll have seen about two dozen b-boys putting themselves out there.

6. KNUCKLESHEADZ CALI VS FOOTZBEUL A L AMAZING DAY BY YOUVAL

These two crews are both killing it, and in each round the battle just escalates to another level. Lots of originality in this one.

5. Judges showcase master of art

Born and Red, my new fantasy b-parents. You may have seen them hit their moves better in other clips, but hearing the crowd and seeing them vibe off of the energy around them is pretty great.

4. Energetik vs Smurf

Energetik and Smurf both rep super hard here, but Smurf’s crazy energy makes him stand out (I know, I’m using “energy” in every description, oh well). I’m pretty sure Smurf can fly.

3. Hip Hop 360 2008, Cypher #3

Some videos don’t need big-name b-boys or b-girls. The energy and atmosphere of this video are what caught our attention, not to mention top-notch sound and production value.

2. Boogie Brats vs Killafornia

Smurf and Energetik are on opposite sides of the floor again, but this time Smurf is joined by Casper and Energetik is joined by Lil Roc. Suffice it to say they’re all on point.

1. YNOT at Rock Steady Crew 30th Anniversary!!

DAAAAMMMNNNNN

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1. Flooded: Online B-Boy Clips
2. Save Your Favorite B-Boy YouTube Clips
3. DJ Timber – Your Favorite Irish DJ

On the dance floor, he’s an iconic villain – the kind that makes you want to cover the eyes of any children who might be watching.

He dances with unmistakably sharp movements, swooping and skipping as he jabs and stabs at his opponents. Between unrelenting burns and cock-serves, he executes endless variations of spins and airchairs. He even has a trademark airchair where he jams his fist and forearm through the fly of his pants to – yep, you guessed it – cock his opponents.

He even looks the part. His long trademark dreads rip through the air like a flail daring anyone to interrupt their path. His face seems to be stuck in a perpetual b-boy smirk, with his eyebrow cocked and his lips pursed as if to say, “You’re kidding me, right? I am going to eat your family.”

And then there’s the matter of names – one of the most vital elements of first impressions. While some might associate the name “Bebe” with a woman’s clothing line, there’s no denying the controversy of a crew called “Ground Zero” or the sheer aggressiveness of naming a jam “Who Can Roast the Most?”

On the other hand, he’s one of the nicest guys you’ll ever talk to, period.

Bebe’s a longtime supporter and contributor to the b-boy community worldwide as a competitor, judge, and event organizer/promoter/and, uh, throw-er. He encourages unity within the b-boy community and is known for what he refers to as his “hippy tendencies,” including his longtime vegetarianism, his experience as a yoga instructor, and his “different” spiritual beliefs. He’s also easy to approach, quick to give thanks, and solidly grounded in his roots.

These seemingly opposing sides of Bebe – scowling angry guy vs. smiling peace-loving guy – might seem a little strange or confusing at first.

But as we found out, finding a balance – both literally and figuratively – is nothing new for him.

Born Alejandro Fernandez in 1981, Bebe (who is half-Puerto Rican and half-Cuban, for those of you who care to know) was a 12-year-old weathering the Miami heat when he first saw b-boying at a skating rink right down the street from his home.

The Hot Wheels Skating Center was a hotbed for b-boys who would congregate in the middle of the rink on the wood floor. (Years later, Bebe would rent out the venue for Who Can Roast the Most? 5, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves.)

“I was mesmerized by the intricacies of footwork that drew me primarily to the dance,” Bebe says. “I can’t put into words how special and what a catalyst that place was. I’ll pretty much just sum it up with this: any influential b-boy who came out of Miami spawned from that floor.”

When Bebe was in the eighth grade, he and his family (including younger brothers Zoob and Boo Rok) relocated to Puerto Rico. The fact that there wasn’t a lot to do ended up working in their favor; while others spent their free time playing ball, Bebe and his brothers danced.

As they gained experience and technique, the puzzle pieces of the crew that would grow out of their brotherhood began to fall into place.

Bebe found his b-boy name in the form of a suggestion from his younger brother Zoob. “Bebe” was a testament to the common nickname for Puerto Rican kids as well as Bebe’s own tendency to be the little fiery kid in the baggy clothes.

Their crew name, Ground Zero Crew, also reflected their hunger to battle, though it then was hardly as ominous as it is in the current post-9/11 landscape.

“I like what the word means,” Bebe says. “Square one, from the beginning. The place of impact at which some disaster has happened and scorched the landscape. I think that really fits our battle style and philosophy and what we attempt to accomplish.”

And what, you might ask, is Ground Zero Crew trying to accomplish?

“We came out at a time when people weren’t battling like they were really battling,” Bebe explains.

“They were shaking hands and smiling and giving each other ice cream cones. As far as just fundamental intensity – I’m not even talking about moves – at end of the day, you should be able to beat people on presence, aggression, aura, intimidation, strategy, confidence, uniqueness, used as weapons – without moves. I just wanted to be a bad-ass battler.”

For Bebe and his crewmates, this meant not only dancing aggressively but also being outspoken in what they perceived to be biting.

“We strongly advocated originality. We eliminated and pointed out people using other’s original moves in a way that was mean and aggressive. People were biting a lot,” Bebe says.

“If it’s already been done before, get off of it. It’ll get you more interested in what hasn’t been done before. Your philosophy and perspective and practice will change too. If you want to join the ranks of the people who changed the game, change yourself and the people around you as well.”

And therein lies the rub. As much as Bebe and his crewmates may stand out for being harsh critics of biting and won’t hesitate to tell anyone so, on the positive tip, they are also proponents of creativity and originality.

“Nothing – and I repeat, nothing – should change the way you naturally respond to music,” Bebe says. “Of course, there’s learning your foundation. But by the same token, do not limit yourself to the rigidity of foundation that doesn’t allow you to experience your own stuff as well. You can’t just go in and think its 1974 again.

“Some people say, ‘Not everybody can be creative.’ If you’re a musician, that’s just like saying you can’t create an original song,” Bebe continues. “If you’re not bringing anything back into the artform, then how are you practicing the artform? If you want to be creative, we all are unique beings and have a unique story to tell from different walks of life. Breathe inside yourself and find a place inside with your creativity at one with the creator of creation, then you’ll have no problem creating things.”

Of course, it can seem like a dying message nowadays with the Internet’s impact on the culture.

With unlimited access to hours of other b-boys’ and b-girls’ moves, potential biters don’t even have to shell out money for a VHS like they did only a few years ago.

Furthermore, inexperienced dancers who might have been too scared to talk shit in person or who would have been quickly silenced at jams now have an outlet to run their mouths.

“[You have to] acknowledge that the message boards can be an area for all these people’s undeserved voices,” Bebe says. “Lots of toys are going online to bite and download moves. This is part of a plague of irreparable homogony. It’s reached almost an unreversible point.”

He pauses.

“I’m not angry,” he continues. “I’m not young and full of, whatever. You know what, let them do what they’re gonna do. They’re gonna quit in two years. If they don’t realize what they’re doing is wack, whatever.”

It’s a surprising surrender that almost seems uncharacteristic of Bebe. But perhaps it’s a reflection of his attitude towards b-boying as a whole: showing all-out aggression to his individual opponents, but never hesitating to contribute to the entirety of the culture.

Plus, there’s always the option of handling beef the “old-fashioned” way – round for round in a battle.

It’s how Bebe silenced one particular West Coast b-boy who talked shit online but could only hang his head and apologize after a battle in person. And it’s how Bebe says he settled his now-legendary feud with the French b-boy Benji.

“Me and Benji was like the greatest showdown of the new millennium,” he says.

The story goes that in 1999 Bebe and the rest of Ground Zero were at the Rock Steady Anniversary in New York when b-boy Flubber of France approached them and told them how he appreciated their styles as well as the styles of the Lionz of Zion.

He also introduced them to a “quiet French little small guy” named Ben, with whom Boo Rok and Zoom sessioned. Bebe says at the time, Ben was clearly influenced by a West Coast style, especially dancers like Poe1 and Vietnam.

Years later, Bebe would encounter Ben, now known as Benji, at the B-Boy Masters Pro-Am in 2001. Benji’s style and presence had changed in a way that Bebe felt was reflective of his biting Ground Zero and Lionz of Zion’s moves.

“Maybe I’m not making a lot of money off this. I’m not a rich rapper or whatever. But I live to at least know that I’m influencing somebody, whether I realize it or not. Shit makes me choke up inside, how good that feels.”

A dramatic confrontation climaxed with a showdown in the semifinals, but the rivalry continued to a battle at Mighty 4 in San Diego and once more in a park.

“After that, it was a wrap,” Bebe says. “In France, they’re still like, ‘You and Benji! You and Benji!’ What am I supposed to think of him? As far as I know, he doesn’t break anymore. I’m still a practitioner. I was dancing before he was and still am after he was. I don’t have bad blood with a brother. If I saw him in person, I would probably thank him for our rivalry.”

Bebe’s intensity seems at least in part to be a byproduct of his roots in Miami, where he says the overall atmosphere is rawer than in other cities.

And that Miami rawness has helped him to travel all around the globe. Bebe’s personal favorite b-boy trips include his visit to Japan in 2002 where he battled Korean b-boys and met hip-hop pioneers as well as a trip to Spain in 2003, where he and his brothers felt a connection to the culture through their language and heritage.

“Traveling the world and meeting people I touched firsthand is the greatest blessing of all,” Bebe says. “Maybe I’m not making a lot of money off this. I’m not a rich rapper or whatever. But I live to at least know that I’m influencing somebody, whether I realize it or not. Shit makes me choke up inside, how good that feels.”

Bebe also lived in California for the past four years in an attempt to further his career in the entertainment history.

Successful as the move was, landing him some key appearances on TV shows, music videos, and commercials, he found that he couldn’t stay away from Miami, where he moved in 2008.

While the scene was bigger and more advanced in LA, Bebe said he was quickly burned out on the fakeness and the nepotism of the industry.

“The more noise I started making on the b-boy tip in LA, the more I started traveling,” Bebe says. “I didn’t want to subject myself to that prostitution. The main different it’s just more laid back over here [in Miami]. Miami’s about that fire – that hot Latino energy and shit. LA’s got a dope scene, but it’s more raw out here, that’s for damn sure.”

So in an effort to collide the coasts, Bebe threw Who Can Roast the Most? 7 (read our review on the DVD here) in California before moving back.

“The whole reason for Roast was I was sick of these little microwave battles with one round or two rounds. Anybody can get over anybody in one or two rounds,” Bebe says. Look, the thing about Roast is you don’t need any judges. In 10 rounds, it’s clearly evident who wins the battle, no discussion, no disputing it. 10 rounds is very revealing.

“When you become a combatant of Roast and join the chain of the Florida warrior b-boy passage and endured 10 rounds against a b-boy of equal or greater stature, it changes you. Just in preparation to go 10 rounds, that’s a lot for you. You get put through the flame of truth. You kinda see highly-acclaimed b-boys fall to pieces or do well. It really humanizes some of these names sometimes. It changed the way people battle. You have to battle with strategy.”

Roast 7 was quickly followed up later in 2008 by Roast 8, which took place back in Florida. Though there were a few snags, Bebe says bringing the battle back to Miami was a refreshing reminder of the energy and the city’s pride, evident in the crowd’s hypeness and responsiveness.

That brought Bebe’s track record for 2008 to two thrown jams, one Spy Award (which he received alongside A-B-Girl, whom we featured here) and countless battles.

But Bebe isn’t showing any signs of slowing down, as Roast 9 is in the works for next year, as well as tentative plans for one in New York.

Bebe says he plans to strike a balance between judging, battling, and promoting while also helping to rejuvenate the Miami scene and its newest generations of dancers.

And he has bigger visions as well, including his long-time goal of establishing an industry standard so that b-boying can provide a sustainable income.

“This is the first time that two generations of breaking have gone uninterrupted back to back completely mainstream,” Bebe says. “Promoters are making mad dough and b-boys who make event aren’t making any money. I feel like people need to stop falling into the same trap. Even if you win a few hundred, where is your longevity?

“Of course I’m going to cause opposition. I’ve been all around the world, and they’ve been all around the World Wide Web.”

“One bad thing about breaking is people don’t value b-boys because there’s already somebody else who will spin on their head for less money or for free,” Bebe continues. “There’s people undercutting each other. If we all start playing hardball, everybody has to pay you what you need. Things like that need to be set in stone because it gives us a base and somewhere to go off of, especially with some bigger events with huge corporations’ backing from giant sponsors and pulling twenty thousand or more people.

“At what point do you start giving back to your community and start looking out for people or creating positions to help people and make sure the artform is continued with its integrity and icons well taken care of? Skateboarding is sponsored. I don’t get why our industry hasn’t gotten there. Part of the spirit of hip-hop and battling is everybody has a chip on their shoulder and nobody wants to work together. But on some real business shit, I think we all want the same thing. Everybody has to sit down and have an industry standard. Until that day, there’s not much to grow off of,” he concludes.

To critics, words about unity and swallowing pride might seem a bit ironic coming from a guy who is reputed to be one of the meanest and the most competitive in the game.

But perhaps years of actively filling different roles in the b-boy community has equipped Bebe to not only handle haters but also to anticipate them.

“If people are hating you, you must be doing something right,” he says. “All the people who love you and hate you are all the same. The people who hate you can’t process that love. Or they’re jealous or have different motives. I had an interview with Breakvision, and they asked me a similar question about being someone who caused a lot of controversy with that swag to back it up. I said, ‘Of course I’m going to cause opposition. I’ve been all around the world, and they’ve been all around the World Wide Web.’”

For sure, Bebe is no stranger to critics shit-talking. Most recently, he’s received flak for a widely circulated video of him kicking a guy dressed up like a pirate in Hollywood.

The incident took place during a session with the Concrete Allstars.

According to Bebe, this particular Jack Sparrow was known to hassle the b-boys and was acting as if he were drunk.

“We go out there to train, and we also go out there to make our money,” Bebe explains. “We were like, ‘Yo, dude, you do not own the streets. You’re blowing balloons and waving, and we’re flipping.’ He was cussing at us and was basically calling us pussies. He started challenging our manliness. Even other costumed characters grabbed him and warned them. There were even people in the crowd trying to push him and beat him. People in the audience were saying, ‘Move, pirate, move!’ They wanted to see a breaking show.

“We were basically doing powermoves to make sure he moved back,” Bebe continues. “I said, ‘I’m gonna do headspins, and if you don’t move, and I hit you, we’re gonna have problems.’ Of course, he didn’t move. I was really angry and I lost my cool. The fact that I was upside down and could have hurt my neck – that was extremely dangerous. It pissed me off so much that I pushed up. Then I was in the air, and I thought I was in the Matrix, and I drop-kicked him.

“I don’t condone violence,” Bebe says. “But when somebody comes to your face, calls you a pussy, and gets in the way of your money, I’d like to see what you do. My manhood was challenged. I had to move.”

In fact, controversy and criticism has been such a factor in Bebe’s life that he has been known to thank his haters and competitors, such as when he won the Spy Award.

“If they hadn’t made me angry and made me practice, I wouldn’t have gotten this good,” Bebe explains. “It makes you think about what’s this guy’s best stuff – how to counter. It makes gets you on your grind. It puts the pressure on. GI Joes need Cobra. Transformers need Decepticons. God needs the devil. There has to be a yin and yang to transcend polarities. Without that rivalry, there’s no way for us to go through and transcend.”

And perhaps it’s that balance of using both the good and the bad to progress that has helped Bebe find such longevity in the game. He is known, after all, to internalize both in himself and his crew.

“I feel like most of the misconceptions [people have about me] have been put to rest already by example of the way I been living,” Bebe says. “People thought we were assholes – mean punks. But I think anybody who comes up to me or said anything to me will find that we’re cool, calm approachable people off the battlefield. But during the battle, we’re absolute warlords and monsters and we’re gonna rip your head off.”

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