New Orleans native Renard Bridgewater fell in love with hip-hop as a kid, but it was during his time at Holy Cross High School that he became an ardent writer, filling notebooks and message boards with lyrics. As he came of age and while attending University of New Orleans, he took his music to the stage under the moniker Slangston Hughes.
Bridgewater every Thursday, midnight to 2 a.m., co-hosts Draw Fo’ Radio with Thelonius Kryptonite on WWOZ, the station’s first show dedicated to hip-hop. Bridgewater also until recently was the community engagement coordinator at the Music and Culture Coalition of New Orleans. Find his music at slangstonhughes.bandcamp.com.
This interview is part of a series reflecting on New Orleans as hip-hop turns 50.
Gambit: What was your introduction to hip-hop?
Renard Bridgewater: I think I’ve had a couple of different access points. The earliest memory that I have of hip-hop, from a musical standpoint, was MC Hammer. That was probably one of my first introductions, just because as a kid, everybody that I knew wanted to be MC Hammer. We wanted the MC Hammer pants, wanted to be able to dance like MC Hammer, a lot of emulating him from that standpoint. I think that’s one of my earliest memories.
Then, not too long after that: “House Party 2.” The opening scene for some reason really stuck with me, and I think it also just opened up my mind to what a hip-hop performer could be — or what hip-hop performance could look like. Because the opening scene is Kid is dreaming, more or less, and it’s this cypher that’s going down and [there’s] a dance battle in the cypher. To some degree, I envisioned what that could look like for me if I was in Kid’s shoes.
The last and most focal point of my introduction to hip-hop was my time as a junior in high school. For some reason, at that point in time, I was starting to really delve into the classics: your “Enter the Wu-Tang (36 Chambers),” your Nas’ “Illmatic,” and other classics like that. Not only listening to the classics, but going back and just really, fully immersing myself into the culture — not just the music but the culture of hip-hop at that time.
I was one of the founding members of my high school’s hip-hop club. I was doing everything. Back then in my junior year in high school, in 2001 … it was my moment. It was the time that I really immersed myself in the art form.
I also started writing in ’01 as well. This was at the time when Okayplayer was still [early online], and it was early Reddit kind of stages. You had your message boards and things like that. I came up at a time where the message board was still a thing, and people would find out about new music there and then go to LimeWire and download it.
That’s where I found myself, to some degree, as a lyricist, because what I would do at that time is read other people’s [rhymes]. Folks were just bustin’ 16s (16-bar verses) left and right in the message boards. There were even battles that were taking place in the message boards, where one emcee would put their best 16 up against the other emcee. I was doing that, but I was also having those message board battles with folks I went to high school with on AOL Instant Messenger. We would go back-and-forth, and someone would spit two bars, and then you would come back. It was like a virtual battle that was taking place via AOL Instant Messenger.
Those three moments really stand out as far as my introduction to the music and to the culture.
Gambit: MC Hammer is obviously just cool, but for you did the wordplay and the lyricism become the draw?
Bridgewater: Yeah. Honestly, it became addictive, because I was doing that online and at the same time, I was filling Steno Pads and notebooks with words and lyrics and songs. I was battling online, but I was doing just as much, if not more, writing offline as I was online.
For me, it was the science and the art form of writing that I came to appreciate. I think having peers that also appreciated that was helpful and encouraging for me to keep going and hone in on my craft from that standpoint.
Gambit: Who was the first New Orleans hip-hop artist you admired?
Bridgewater: I will always claim, and others will as well, that [Lil] Wayne is the GOAT. But I think back before my full immersion into the artform, Hot Boy Turk. Turk was my favorite of the Hot Boys at the time, and I think he certainly stood out to me and caught my ear very early on in my love of hip-hop.
I think Turk would be number one at that time, and then Mystikal as well just because of his tenure at the time, even before I was like really listening to hip-hop like that. So having a respect for him and his artistry because it had been taking place for quite some time prior to me coming into the artform — also his charisma, his onstage performance, his overall versatility in the octave that he used on the microphone.
Turk for sure is a first, and if there is a close second or a tie, it would be Mystikal.
Gambit: You co-host Draw Fo’ Radio on WWOZ with Thelonius Kryptonite. Were there any New Orleans radio hosts you look to for inspiration or that you think are important to this history?
Bridgewater: Oh, for sure. First comes to mind is Wild Wayne, right? He has broken many hip-hop and bounce records on Q93. He’s provided a space for aspiring emcees and rappers with 9 O’Clock Props. He continues to do it right, and not just on air — I think it was called Industry Influence … an event he and Sess 4-5 did for several years in a post-Katrina landscape to be able to provide prizes and networking opportunities for upcoming emcees and artists over at The Hangar. His reach is certainly profound. It’s something that has history to it, and the beautiful thing is he’s still doing it.
I always gotta shout out my fellow OZ DJ, Soul Sister, because of what she’s been able to do. [She plays] a different sound, but she’s always had an appreciation and the respect — and one that has taken place publicly — for hip-hop, for sure.
I also gotta pay respect to the big homie, DJ EF Cuttin. He’s been breaking records for years. He had his show with DJ RQ Away on WTUL called Reel 2 Real that they did for a couple of years, and that was late-night hip-hop, playing a lot of New Orleans hip-hop. So I think to some degree, EF provided the foundations for what myself and Thelonious do now as well.
Gambit: What has been New Orleans’ most significant contribution to hip-hop?
Bridgewater: As [Edward] Buckles used to say a couple years ago, “We the culture.” At the end of the day, everybody who’s anybody is attempting to create New Orleans’ sound. Full stop. They trying to do what we do so easily. Whether it be our ethos or who we are as individuals and artists, we don’t have to source it, we don’t have to think about it, we just are it.
So when we’re thinking about the significance of what New Orleans hip-hop and emcees and artists and culture bearers bring to the table, we provide a distinct and unique sound that everybody wants a piece of, that everyone is attempting to replicate or emulate in some form or fashion.
Gambit: Do you feel like New Orleans gets the recognition it deserves for that?
Bridgewater: I think we’re starting to. I wish it would have happened some time ago. I think much like hip-hop, there’s an ebb and flow that takes place within the music, but what I’m starting to see now — and the beauty of what I’m observing — is that the artists that are coming up, they not only want to be recognized, they want to be credited for what their contributions are. It’s not just about a quick check, it’s about, like “OK, I should be compensated, and I should be respected for what I’m contributing to the art form.”
They also are starting to understand the legacy that comes with the music — those continued contributions over the last several decades — and understanding that New Orleans hip-hop is a thing and it has been a thing for decades. Folks are starting to see that, not only here but outside of the city.
The artists in the city are like, “You’re gonna put some respect on our name at the end of the day,” and I think that’s helpful to be able to continue to drive the local culture nationwide and internationally.
Gambit: Reflecting on this anniversary, what does hip-hop mean to you today?
Bridgewater: Oh, man, hip-hop ultimately took this shy, nerdy kid and allowed him to fully be himself. [It helped me] not to shy away from the things that I may have gotten picked on about or made fun of [for], because it allowed me to really step into my character and my personality and who I was, who I am and what I really enjoyed about myself.
Hip-hop, generally speaking, allowed me to really push back on people that thought I shouldn’t be there or thought I shouldn’t be a part of the community because of how I looked or the fact that I read comic books or anything like that. It allowed me to prove myself, not only to others but most importantly to myself, that I belong. And it allowed me to delve deeper into who I was, who I am as a person and reflect that musically, reflect it onstage and reflect it outwardly.
Gambit: Is there anything you’d like to add?
Bridgewater: I’m just appreciative of the time right now. Because what I’m seeing and what I’m experiencing now — and I had this conversation with Nate [Cameron, glbl wrmng co-founder / music industry professional] a couple weeks ago — it’s very reminiscent of a time that he and I were coming up.
I often say that 2011, 2012, that era of New Orleans hip-hop, for me was kind of a renaissance — or I would say my own personal renaissance, something that I was experiencing and I think other people that were coming up at that time [were experiencing], like Nate and Lyrikill and Truth Universal, etc. All of us, we were operating in such a beautiful and streamlined way, because you often had something, like an event, a residency, a show, that was taking place on a weekly basis. You could go to a New Orleans hip-hop event once a week, and that’s how we build community. That’s how collaborations took place and music was being created.
We’re starting to see that a lot now, over the last couple of years, with the glbl wrmng folks. Everybody is kind of not necessarily saying “unity,” but they’re showing it in their actions. That spirit of collaboration reminds me a lot of what was taking place in New Orleans in 2011, 2012. It’s a beautiful thing, and I hope it continues for the next generation as well.
