My brother, Gang Starr’s Guru
By Harry J. Elam Jr.
(EDITOR’S NOTE: Boston-born Keith Elam, who rose to fame as Guru, founder of the rap group Gang Starr and a person who sought to merge rap and jazz,died earlier this week. His brother, Harry, a distinguished professor of drama at Stanford, has written this remembrance).
Harry Elam
“Positivity, that’s how I’m livin..’” So goes the lyric from my brother’s early hip-hop song, “Positivity.” My brother Keith Elam, the hip-hop artist known as GURU—Gifted Unlimited Rhymes Universal—died this week at the too-young age of 48 because of complications from cancer. ‘Positivity’ was what he sought to bring to the music and to his life, and for me that will be a large part of his legacy.
In February of this year, my brother went into a coma, and I traveled across the country from my home in California to see him. At his bedside, I stood and stared at his overly frail frame, his head that he had kept clean-shaven for the last 20 years uncommonly covered with hair, his body connected to a sea of tubes and wires. I listened to the whirl of machines around us and took his hand. As I did, my mind flashed back to now-distant times, so many memories. And I saw us as teenagers at the beach on Cape Cod playing in the water together. And I saw us as boys, driving to school. My brother was five years younger than me, so we attended the same school only for one year — my senior year, his seventh-grade year — at Noble and Greenough School, and I would often drive us both to school. Invariably, I made us late, yet my brother, never as stressed as me, was always impressively calm. At school he endured the jests and teasing from the other boys about being my “little brother.” I was president of the school and had charted a certain path at Nobles. But my brother found his own creative route at school, as he would throughout his life. His journey was never easy, never direct, but inventive. Through it all he remained fiercely determined with a clear and strong sense of self.
Over the years I had proudly watched my brother perform in a wide variety of contexts. While at Nobles, we had a black theatre troupe known as “the Family.” In 1973, we put on a play entitled ”A Medal for Willie,” by William Branch, and because he was only in the seventh grade, Keith played only a small role, but even then you could see his flair for performance, his comfort on the stage. At home, our older sister Patricia would teach him the latest dances, and he would execute them with verve as I watched from the sidelines, impressed with his moves, and not without a few twinges of jealousy since I’ve always had two left feet. As a teenager he raced as a speed skater. I do not remember how he became involved in the sport; I only remember traveling with my family to watch his meets in the suburbs of Boston. I do not remember if he won or lost, I do know that he always competed with great ferocity and commitment.
When he announced to me that he was dropping out of graduate school at the Fashion Institute of Technology to pursue a career in rap, I thought he was making a grave mistake and warned him against it. But as always he was determined, and in the end he would succeed beyond perhaps what even he had imagined. Early on in his rap journey, he visited me in Washington., D.C., over a Thanksgiving weekend. I was teaching at the University of Maryland then, and we went to what was perhaps the most dreadful party we had ever attended. As we hastened out the door, I apologized for bringing him to this party. My brother replied “let’s write a rap song about it,” and we did. The lyrics made us laugh as we collaborated on the rhyme scheme and rode off into the D.C. night. It is one of my fondest memories, this spontaneous brotherly moment of collaboration and play.
Keith’s big break came with Spike Lee’s film ”Mo’ Better Blues,” with his song “A Jazz Thing” underscoring the credits. I watched that film over and over again just to hear my brother at its end. Soon he was on to creating his first Jazzmatazz album with others to follow, and he became credited for creating a fusion between jazz and hip hop. To be sure, that fusion owes something to our grandfather Edward Clark and Keith’s godfather, George Johnson, who introduced Keith to jazz by playing their favorite albums for him. He credits them both on his first Jazzmatazz. That first Jazzmatazz album featured musical heroes of my youth, Roy Ayers, and Donald Byrd, and here was my brother featuring them on his album. And with this success, came tours. I have seen him perform all over the world, and each time he would give a shout out from the stage to his brother and my wife, Michele. And I was so proud. It sometimes struck me with awe that all these people were there to see my brother. I watched him deal out magic; he was in his element feeling the crowd, and them responding to his groove. This was my baby brother, the kid with whom I once shared a room. The kid whose asthma would cause him to hack and cough and wheeze at night keeping me up. But when I would complain, my parents would send me out of the room. The message was clear: Love your siblings, whatever their frailties. Shorter than me and slighter of build, my brother suffered from asthma and allergies his whole life, but he was always a survivor.
Back in 1993, when he played at Stanford University, I was in perhaps my third year as a professor there. As I walked into the auditorium that night, the assembled audience of students looked at me with a new awareness, “that’s the Guru’s brother,” not that’s Professor Elam, but the Guru’s brother.
And I was, and am, the Guru’s brother. I admired and loved him deeply, my little brother. And I was and am so proud of him, and how he made his dreams reality . And with the outpouring of love that has crowded my e-mail with his passing, I know that he touched so many with his music. My brother cared deeply about family. He raps of my parents in more than one song. They are featured on his video “Ex girl to next girl.” It was one thing seeing my brother on MTV; it was another seeing my parents. His son K.C. was the joy of his was the joy of his life.
The doctors told me back in February that there was not much chance of my brother recovering from the coma. But my brother has always been a fighter, always been one to overcome surprising adversities, so this seemed just one more. We prayed that he would again prevail. But it was not to be. Still his drive, his spirit, his energy, his positivity will live on, and so will his music. “that’s how I’m livin…”
Harry J. Elam Jr. is the chairman of the drama department at Stanford University and the author of several books, including “The Past as Present in the Drama of August Wilson.”
VIBE: Do you feel like your relationship with Guru has been misrepresented by Solar?
DJ Premier: Well, I’ve always held down Guru… His spirit knows this. He used to get upset about so much stuff when we were dealing with the label all the time. We both would be upset. But I would take the calls because when he was upset he would flip [Laughs], where you might not be able to handle him when he’s wilding out. With me, although I had a temper, I was much calmer about it. But I always remember whenever I would tell him, “Yo Guru, don’t worry about it, they are going to take care of it,” he would be happy as fuck. He would be like, “Yo, let’s go out for a drink.” He was the go-out king. That was his routine. He was definitely a celebratory guy. Anyone from our era knows that Guru was in every club and every bar and every spot. He could go all night, all day. And he would never be tired!
When was the last time you spoke to Guru?
It was March 30, 2004. April 1 was the last email I received from him and I just found it in my computer. We were pretty much going at it about him straightening his life up with the drinking and everything… just getting himself together. Because talent wise, drinking or sober, he was always on point in the lab. He could lay down his vocals with no problem and he always wrote his rhymes dope. When he wrote his rhymes on page they were so messy [Laughs]. I used to ask him, “How can you even recite the verses and flow?” He would be in the booth turning the paper upside down while he’s still rhyming and without having to punch in.
Was there ever a time when you felt Gang Starr was going to break up during your successful run in the ‘90s?
Yes. That was with the Moment of Truth album, which was the most emotional album for both of us. I had actually left the group before that album came out. I’ve never really told that story, but even Guru knew although he’s not here to defend that—but I had left the group. We were not getting along over stupid shit so I straight up said, “I’m out of here.” He was going through his gun trial and facing a five-year bid. I have to thank our tour manager who I went to college with and who is a major part of my life to this day. Even with his own problems with Guru, he was like, “Yo man, you need to go back to him. Y’all were meant to be a duo, man.” Then the trial was about to happen and I called Guru and said, “I want to do this.” We made up, everything was cool and I went to his trial everyday with his parents and our Gang Starr lawyer and our criminal lawyer. We were there every day. Guru was so scared that he could have gone to jail for five years, so that’s why that whole time was very emotional. I had just had a major death in my family. I was not really focused. I just remember our lawyer telling us, “If Guru goes to jail, you are going to have to promote the album by yourself.” That entire time was crazy.
How ironic was it that the Moment of Truth ended up becoming your first gold album?
Guru used to always say from every album, “All I want is a gold album…we deserve it; we are as hot as all these platinum artists.” So when we got that one he was the happiest guy in the world. He even designed the gold plaque. I remember we spent almost $10,000 on buying plaques for everybody that we knew deserved one [Laughs]. There was a DJ who taught me how to scratch—I brought him one; I brought my parents, my sisters, all my friends who was hanging with us from day one. That’s real talk. That’s why that album is so special.
What kind of sense did you get of the future of Gang Starr from your conversations with Guru?
It was pretty much stay focused on getting your life together. Everybody knows he had a history of drinking. That was no secret. But he had cut down some. He was getting it together, but he kept going back to it. His attitude could switch from being the funniest guy, joking around to just flipping out. But we were so used to him after all these years that we just dealt with it.
What are your favorite memories of Guru beyond the music?
Besides the music and the tours, I lived with him from ’88 to ’93. That’s a lot of years to live together. Everything would come through our house… wild parties every night. We lived that rock-and-roll lifestyle and weren’t even going platinum. We were making steady money because we did a lot of shows, but we lived that rock lifestyle to the fullest. You look at any rock group that had all the girls and the wildness, we did that. It was like college. There would be liquor bottles almost a mile long still in the house, some of them half empty. Guru was the type of dude who would get up, hold it up to the light to make sure there were no ashes in it and guzzle it the next day. [Group Home member] used to hide pizza in the dishwasher so no one would take his food. We used to be together in Brooklyn all the time. We would run around with guns and stuff, acting like we [were] fly. We were aiming the guns at each other like idiots [Laughs].
Now that’s crazy…
Yeah. It was dumb shit like that, but you laugh at it now because those were the fucking days. We had the party house, which was Brandford Marsalis’ house on Washington Ave. Cypress Hill was at our house before they even came out with “How I Could Just Kill A Man” video. They had just come to New York to meet up with Ice Cube. Easy Mo B would tell you, RZA would tell you… He was there before the Wu-Tang Clan. We met Biggie around that time before he had a record deal. Puff used to come to Brooklyn to come scoop him up to go to the studio and BIG was frustrated because he was stressing to get money. We would be on the corner smoking and drinking with BIG everyday. It would be me, Guru, Big Shug and Dap, who I remember had the biggest crush on Lil’ Kim and this is before she was even rhyming. We used to trade porno flicks with BIG’s man Mr. Cee on the way to the weed spot. Everybody would be in there blazing, drinking and girls, girls, girls would be there all the time.
What do you make of the rumors that Guru was gay because of the close relationship he had with Solar?
Like I just said, I don’t believe it. All these little rumors about Guru and some other shit… it can’t be. Because he had too many women.
How hurtful was it that one person could destroy someone’s legacy the way Solar has?
It hurts. But that’s based on the fact that none of the things being said are true. Just from the amount of work we have put in… We talking about almost 18 years. That’s a long time. If we didn’t make history, maybe I could deal with it a different way. But we made history together and he was alive to see it. Guru was able to get two gold albums; he was able to do the Jazzmatazz album. So everything that we gained makes you think, “You mean to tell me you are going to blow it all away and act like that’s not an important part of what made us who we are?” With a silly ass letter like that??? When you say ‘Ex-DJ’ where is my name at? Because there are two other DJ’s that was DJing with Guru besides me. There was Doo Wop and Shawn Ski, who was our backup DJ when I had to go back to college. He always held us down. Calling me the ex-DJ doesn’t mean anything to me. Why don’t you just say Christopher Martin?
Do you think the letter was written by Solar?
Well, I would love to see that letter. I would love to see the handwriting. Because I know Guru’s handwriting like the back of my hand with all the bills we had to pay together. I know it’s not him.
Have you been in touch with Guru’s family?
I talk to them all the time. His father, his sister Patricia; the only one I haven’t spoken to is his younger sister. But they all know me well. His brother Harry… They all know me. And they know this is all some bullshit. They been a little separated from Guru once he decided to move off of Gang Starr. He got distant from everybody. It had been six years since I talked to him. I was trying to get the truth about whether he was in the hospital after he had the cardiac arrest. I called his parents. Guru’s mother and my mother were pen pals for a long time. I remember the day he had the cardiac arrest. I called the house and I heard Guru’s father’s voice like “Chris…Man, it’s good to hear your voice.” Now if he had some strange feeling about me he would have been like, “Son, I can’t talk to you right now.” But that wasn’t the case. It felt so good speaking to him. I was able to get the real deal of what was going on. They know me well enough to know that I’m not some stranger that needs information to be held back from me. Why do I have to make it up? I don’t have an agenda.
Who is handling the Gang Starr estate?
I have all kinds of Gang Starr shit, but you don’t see me putting nothing out. I’m not selling T-shirts and all that stuff. But I’ve seen Guru’s people sell stuff on their site. I didn’t violate any of that stuff. Even when we weren’t doing stuff I reached out and told Guru, “Yo, let’s still sell our Gang Starr stuff just like the way Kiss did all the years they weren’t together.” They were still putting out Kiss memorabilia and dolls. So let’s keep on selling Gang Starr merchandise. The logo and the fan base we have, we can eat off of that forever. He has a son now so I wanted his son to eat. We just never resolved to get any agreement on it. I left it alone pretty much.
Were there plans for another Gang Starr album?
That was the plan following the break he was taking. But I don’t dwell on stuff too long. I’m glad that I have made a name for myself where I still can survive. If I had to just depend on Gang Starr I would be jammed up right now. My father raised me to always find a way as a man. I’m going to be a provider no matter what.
What do you hope for the future of the Gang Starr legacy?
I want the name to stay alive… But the right way. I don’t have a hidden agenda. His son should get that money. Of course I’ll get my half and that’s not on no selfish shit. That’s just off of what we built together. Nothing can take away from what Gang Starr did. That’s what I was stressing to Guru before he passed. We have tons of footage and DVD material that could have been sold. This is way before he was sick. I plan to discuss what can be done with Guru’s family. I don’t care if it’s from a lawyer’s standpoint. The main thing is we never dissolved our Gang Starr contract. We are still signed to each other. We never disbanded the group. If Guru really wanted to super dead it he would have said, “Yo, I want out.” And I still would have tried to convince him to stay. We are still Gang Starr.
Source: VIBE Magazine
