Since the February 12th passing of David Jolicoeur (aka Trugoy the Dove) of seminal hip hop group De La Soul, I’ve been mulling over his contributions to the culture. I couldn’t rush to eulogize him just yet, as I had to re-immerse myself in the rich musical legacy he left behind, along with his brothers-in-rhyme Posdnuos and Maseo. The timeless tunes these cats created left ripples in the hip-hop gene pool that reverberate to this day. Many MC’s can tout themselves as influential, and even groundbreaking. But, how many can say they created their own lane? Let’s take a quick jaunt back in time to the dawn of the D.A.I.S.Y. age…
1988: Hip hop, that golden child of South Bronx block parties, has comfortably nestled itself into American mainstream pop culture. Movies, TV shows, arena tours, commercials, cartoons; very few mediums in the entertainment world were not touched by its influence by the end of the 80’s. The stories being told? A hefty amount of braggadocio, plenty of odes to the fairer sex, dedications to the art form and culture, a smattering of gun talk, all topped with a garnishing of regional pride. Much of this was engulfed in a fog of hyper-masculine posturing. Vulnerability and self-deprecation? Out of the question! The hip-hop that we were accustomed to was a direct reflection of the gritty, urban environs that produced it. It was in this climate that 3 brothers from Long Island (aka Strong Island), plotted a course for their own corner of this expanding universe.
“Me Myself and I”
In ’89 there were many MC’s that I looked up to but none who I could look at and see “me.” I was nowhere near the top rung on the social ladder and was more interested in reading and listening to records than playing sports. The hip cats I saw flashing across my screen on Yo! MTV Raps and Rap City mostly perpetuated an alpha male ideal that I was far from embodying. Then, one day, a video debuted that grabbed my attention like no other. “Me Myself and I” stuck out like a sore thumb. Who were these three brothers with the abstract rhymes and African medallions? Where were their Kangols, chunky gold chains, and designer clothes? And, more importantly, why were they getting sonned in their own video?! LL Cool J would never! This was an affront to all hip hop stood for, wasn’t it? The video took a shot at several hip hop clichés (the posturing b-boy for example) and turned them on their ear. De La came with an aesthetic influenced by, but not born of, the streets.
“Long Island Degrees”
Dave, along with his De La compatriots, was raised in the suburbs of Long Island, New York. Two-parent households and picket fences were not central to many MC origin stories. This environment helped Plugs One, Two, and Three develop the unique perspective that made De La Soul such a groundbreaking group. Even though I wasn’t raised in the burbs, I could still relate to these cats more so than rappers from my own socio-economic standing. They advocated for peace and thumbed their noses at the tropes their industry peers languished in. B-boys, hustlers, fashionistas, and gangstas all had representation on the hip-hop landscape. With the release of De La Soul’s classic 1989 debut album, 3 Feet High and Rising, outsiders, nerds, geeks, and everyone else on the fringe, now had a voice in rap music.
“Let Let Me In”
Because of the pioneering efforts of Trugoy, Pos, and Maseo, record labels began casting a wider net in their search for the next big rap star. Too many MC’s to name have walked through the door that De La kicked down. Aside from their Native Tongue crew mates A Tribe Called Quest and Queen Latifah, their musical DNA can be traced down to Common, Andre 3000, The Roots, J Dilla, Souls Of Mischief, PM Dawn, Black Star, and a host of others. Trugoy the Dove’s influence cannot.be.overstated. I will close out this token of remembrance with the words of Dave himself. This verse from 1996’s “Stakes Is High” encapsulates everything I loved about Dave and reinforces his stand against the banality that plagued the art form he treasured so much.
I’m sick of b*tches shakin’ asses
I’m sick of talkin’ ’bout blunts, sick of Versace glasses
Sick of slang, sick of half-ass awards shows
Sick of name-brand clothes (Word)
Sick of R&B b*tches over bullsh*t tracks (Heard)
Cocaine and crack, which brings sickness to blacks
Sick of swoll’-head rappers with their sickenin’ raps
Clappers of gats, makin’ the whole sick world collapse
The facts are gettin’ sicker—even sicker, perhaps (Sicker, perhaps)
I Stickabush to make a bundle to escape this synapse
Vibes…vibrations
(1968-2023)