“Can’t get you out of my head.” Immortalized as a Kylie Minogue lyric, this profundity was bookended by an endless string of “La-la-las.” With irony as a cheeky backdrop, the song worked. Better still, it’s unforgettable.

Monosyllabism FTW.

And so we arrive at the conundrum that is popular music: what is it about certain songs and certain artists that stick? While seemingly interchangeable artists wither on the vine?

For this, we turn to the obvious pairing of rap music and, um, neuroscience. UGHH sat down with three academics who study music’s effect on the brain—how the brain receives music and, ultimately, what drives our tastes in music. Basically, really smart people who say things like, “I find the intersection of neuroscience and musical cognition to be a particularly compelling area” and author things such as Flexibility of Temporal Order in Musical and Linguistic Recognition.

Polysyllabism FTW.

All kidding aside, those are the sage words of Dr. Brian Rabinovitz, an esteemed researcher and professor of Psychology at American University who specializes in neuropsychology, biological psychology, and cognitive psychology. UGHH also spoke with Dr. Jonathan Burdette, a cutting-edge neuroradiologist at Wake Forest Baptist Medical Center and co-author of a fascinating study on musical proclivity: Network Science and the Effects of Music Preference on Functional Brain Connectivity: From Beethoven to Eminem. So, yeah. This writer will gladly defer to him. Last but certainly not least, we caught up with Dr. Amy Belfi, a cognitive neuroscientist at NYU who boasts a bevy of publications elucidating the very topic in question: how aesthetic experiences, e.g. listening to music, manifest themselves in the brain.

UGHH thanks these talented professionals for their time and also their good humor. To wit, these conversations yielded gems like: “The second part of your question was…What was the second part of your question? It was unanswerable. I know it was unanswerable.” and “That’s a great question and I have no idea.” And “You stumped me again. You’re going to think I’m an idiot.”—Dr. Jonathan H. Burdette.

[insert writer’s glee].

But let’s get into the meat of the matter, including the physiological truth that music myelinates your brain. Yeah. Myelinates.  Showers in myelin.

How did you initially get into music and how did that segue into your professional pursuit?

Dr. Belfi: I have been into music since my childhood. I played piano and sang in choirs from around age 10 through college. I attended St. Olaf College in part for its great reputation for music. I had contemplated majoring in music before I started college, but an AP Psychology course my senior year got me interested in the brain. So I majored in psychology but still was able to sing and play piano. I started conducting research as an undergrad and decided to pursue a Ph.D. in Neuroscience; luckily, I ended up at the University of Iowa for my Ph.D. I had a great Ph.D. advisor who allowed me to pursue basically any research interest I wanted. So I chose to study music!

Now, I study music cognition; how music relates to other cognitive functions like language, memory, or emotion. Some of the overarching questions that drive my work are: How does music evoke such strong emotional responses in listeners? Why do we like the music that we like? What is the association between music and personal, autobiographical memories? And some of the things I’m interested in are: studying the emotional impact of music; how listening to a song can transport us to a time from our past; how we develop musical taste or preference for certain songs. 

Dr. Rabinovitz: My musical and academic pursuits did not combine until I began graduate school. As a child, I did not have a passion for music, but I loved monsters and I recall being drawn to Iron Maiden’s album cover artwork. I believe I first became interested in their music when I was about 10 years old–purely because of the artwork–but when I heard the harmonized melody lines I was immediately hooked.  Music in many forms and genres has remained a major part of my life ever since. I began my undergraduate studies as a philosophy major. In my senior year, I took a Psychology class that introduced me to Neuroscience and the subject matter fascinated me. When I started graduate school, I had the good fortune of working with an advisor who was interested in both music and memory, and this allowed me to combine my interests in music and neuroscience. Now, broadly speaking, I study memory and metamemory, and I aim to further understand the effects of familiarity and individual differences on musical processing.

Dr. Burdette: I grew up in a musical family; my mother pushed music onto us and we all took the bait. I always played music. I sang, I played the viola, I played the piano. And once I had kids I really got into it. So I love music and I’ve also studied the brain. Naturally, the intersection has been an interest of mine. It’s like “What the heck is going on here?” Why is music one of the most powerful forces that we encounter as human beings? There’s very few things, very few stimuli, that activate so many different networks in the brain: cognition, language, motor, sensory, everything. The brain is on fire when you’re listening to music. So my studies have been attempts to reveal what musicologists have studied and continue to study: What is it about music? What’s going on with your brain when you hear certain rhythms or frequencies? What is the impact of worded music versus wordless? And I actually delved beyond that to determine, whether it’s hip-hop you like or if it’s classical music, are you activating the same networks in the brain as someone who likes something else?

What sort of brain activity occurs when music is taken in? How does it differ from responses to other stimuli, meaning via other senses or even via non-melodic noises?

Dr. Rabinovitz: There are essentially two major levels of physiological response to music. First is the lower level, where the ear transforms the sound into neural signals and then sends these signals to the brain. They enter the brain via the primary auditory cortex, an area that performs basic sound processing. This is where the initial creation of our perception of the sound begins. This applies not just for music but for all sounds we hear. The higher level of processing actually uses many areas across the brain and this is where our deeper appreciation for music takes place. The end result of that process is that the sound is transformed into electrical pulses. The brain is composed of cells called neurons and these neurons send messages back and forth in the form of electrical pulses. At this stage the processing becomes very complex and differs from person to person. These individual differences help explain the differences between people’s musical preference. This is where connections are made with memory and feelings. It is this higher level that accounts for individual differences.

Further, research has shown there is an area of the brain that is involved with tracking melodic structure independent of the actual notes. In other words, there is a part of the brain that processes the relationship between notes rather than the notes themselves. This in part explains why we can easily recognize a melody regardless of its key. For instance, if I sing “Happy Birthday” and start it on a C, I could start again on F or G or and you would still be able to recognize it as the same melody. This happens because of higher processing in the brain. When artists repeat melodic lines in different keys, they are taking advantage of this type of processing to provide an interesting change in the song.

What are some generalizations about popular music—meaning what techniques or gimmicks for audience response and receptivity do you hear? Consistency in sonics, key, tempo, etc.?

Dr. Rabinovitz: Repetition is the most obvious factor. Repetition allows for opportunities to transfer a song from short term to long-term memory. The chorus of almost every popular song, regardless of style, repeats at least three times and generally more than that. The same can be said for the main verse. Repetition increases familiarity. With repeated listens, you form a memory representation of the song structure and so you are able to predict upcoming passages.

When your predictions are accurate that can produce a positive feeling and is one of the reasons you enjoy a song more with repeated listens. Rap thrives on this with its hooks. But in general, popular music needs to walk a fine line between being interesting and catchy. This is really a battle between simplicity and complexity.

In general, our perceptual systems are excellent at noticing change. With auditory information we may notice change in many areas. One area is dynamics, such as sudden changes in the overall volume or sudden changes in volume within a single instrumental or vocal line. Another area is timbre, which refers to the sound of an instrument. For example, a melody may play once on a guitar, then on a keyboard. We hear that it is the same melody, but by switching instruments there is a noticeable change and change is inherently interesting. The artist has to keep the audience interested for the duration of the track so techniques like this are very valuable.

Another example might be repeating a melody while the drums or backbeat switch to half-time or perhaps double-time. When this happens, we feel the rhythmic shift, although the basic melody has not changed. These types of changes are particularly useful for popular music because artists need to capture the attention of the listener, but avoid being too complex. To be catchy, a song must be appreciated on the first or second listen. If there is too much change the listener may be alienated from the music. Examples of this kind of change might include introducing new melodic lines in every measure, frequently changing time signatures, or utilizing melodic lines that are so long in duration that it is difficult for the listener to keep track of them.

Dr. Belfi: Repetitiveness has a lot to do with memory for songs. Hearing a song or chorus–or hook in the case of rap music–over and over is a good way to remember it. Mode (major or minor) is a pretty large determinant of a song’s valence—valence meaning the emotional quality of a piece, be it positive or negative emotion. So major pieces tend to be perceived as happy, while minor pieces tend to be perceived as sad. But it’s hard to pin down how this relates to memorability, since people are drawn to different things.

Does rap music’s intrinsic spoken component lend itself more reading to memorability than does singing?

Dr. Rabinovitz: That is an excellent question and one that really needs more study to fully answer. Most of the research in this area has focused on lyrics that are sung because they contain both melody and linguistic content. We know that lyrics and melodies are highly interrelated. From a musical perspective, the vocal tracks in rap tend to be less melodic and more rhythmic. From a linguistic perspective, they contain a great deal of information and meaning. A rap song contains significantly more lyrical diversity than a pop song. This meaning can contribute to memorability. Further, if the lyrical content resonates positively with the listener, that will likely drive both repeat listening and memorability. Additionally, rap offers different levels of aggression in both the lyrics and the delivery. Those may combine in ways that attract or repel any particular listener.

Dr. Belfi: To my knowledge, I don’t think there is a ton of research out there in the music cognition world on rap music. However, there are studies that look at melodies paired with lyrics versus just lyrics alone; things tend to be remembered more when they also have a melody. So in that way, I might guess that rap music would be less memorable than music set to a melody. But rap music is very rhythmic, so this added rhythmic complexity might increase the memorability of rap music. It might become almost a motor or muscle memory type thing to repeat back a rap lyric.  

Dr. Burdette: That’s never been studied, as far as I know. It’s never been looked into. But it’s interesting. It’s basically rhythmic poetry. I do believe that dancing and music with groove you can dance to is a powerful feeling and is evolutionarily important. I mean, all those silly hooks in a lot of pop songs are residual dance hooks. Urban music is rhythmic, strongly grooved music. Rhythm is part of our upbringing. It’s second nature for children to enjoy music and to immediately start dancing if they hear music. It’s not until it’s beaten out of them by schooling and society that children really stop doing that.

So, body movement and music are very closely linked. It’s something you grow up with—your musical influences as you’re growing up and myelinating your brain and developing memories and emotions. That connection and the repetitiveness of the construction could definitely contribute. Our study explored the effects of several types of music. Traditionally, people have believed that listening to something with words will leave a different brain signature than listening to something without words. And we showed that this is incorrect; if you liked the Beatles’ “Let it Be” or Edith Piaf’s “La Vie en Rose” or Usher, your physiological responses were indistinguishable. Whatever you liked and for whatever reason you liked it, you had a similar brain connectivity pattern.

Are there different responses for music found pleasing straightaway Vs. unpleasant? Does brain activity actually change when a song is met first with dislike, then indifference, to finally preference?

Dr. Belfi: For the first question—yes. Research has indicated that when people find music highly pleasing—often looking at the moment when people experience musical chillsthose feelings of goosebumps—this activates the same brain regions important for other pleasurable activities. So music seems to be a very good way to evoke pleasure and reward. There are several non- mutually exclusive theories about how much evokes emotions. For example, music may evoke emotion though “emotion contagion”—the idea that a listener perceives an emotion in a piece of music and “mimics” that emotion; i.e. it is “contagious.” So if a piece of music is sad, the listener might feel sad; if it’s happy, the listener would feel happy. But, we know that this isn’t always the case. For example, some people enjoy listening to sad music—a powerful symphonic movement or song about lost love, for instance. Music also evokes emotion through its association with personal, autobiographical memories. So hearing a song might remind us of a good time in our life, which makes us feel good.

For the second question: This is something I’m currently looking at in a study I’m conducting. I’m interested in how brain responses unfold over time, as your listening to a piece evolves and your opinions about the piece change. We will have to wait and see!

Dr. Burdette: I can answer that one because that’s exactly what we measured. We played five pieces of music to people sitting in an MRI scanner. One was KISS’ “Rock and Roll All Nite.” One was Usher. One was Brad Paisley. One was Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony. And one was Chinese opera, which is unusual to Western ears and ultimately sounds weird.

We took everyone’s song that they liked the least—call it the dislike if you will—and looked at their brain patterns. We then compared those results to those recorded while the subjects were listening to their favorite songs. This really illuminated an important, powerful brain network called the Default Mode Network or DMN: It is your place in the world, how you interact with the environment, how you monitor the environment. People consider it the home of introspection or inferential thought, self-referential thought, self-reflective thought. I almost think of it as your soul. When the subjects listened to their least favorite pieces, that network was inert, basically. The anterior parts were not really connected to the posterior parts. It just was not firing, However, subjects listening to their favorite pieces showed tremendous activity in the DMN. The network was fully intact and alive. So we were actually able to illustrate the brain signature of what it is to prefer a piece of music.

Another thing we studied was the connection between your auditory areas—your listening areas of the brain—and the hippocampus, a place where humans encode memories. It’s certainly very involved in memory encoding. What we saw was this:  When listening to your favorite piece, your hippocampus and auditory areas were not in the same community. They were not in harmony, pardon the pun. Whereas if it was not your favorite piece, they were. And you could argue—we did argue—that when it was not your favorite, the listening areas and the memory-making areas were kind of in cahoots in trying to form memories. Whereas if it was one of your favorite pieces, you already had this strong memory component. One didn’t need the other; the hippocampus was kind of off on its own. It really did not play a part. It was retrieving memories, if you will, rather than encoding memories. Those were two big differences between like and dislike.

Dr. Rabinovitz: There are very different responses for music that is perceived as pleasant compared to unpleasant. Certain properties are somewhat universally considered unpleasant—highly dissonant music, for instance. The early stages of auditory processing in which the basic characteristics of the sound are decoded are similar for everyone. At the higher stages where the song is perceived as music rather than just a collection of sounds, you will see differences in brain activity between those who like and dislike the music. Even a single individual may go through a change in terms of this higher processing. Have you ever heard a song you didn’t like at first, but with repeated listens you grew to enjoy or even love it? The basic processing remained the same between your first and last exposure to the song. What changed was your higher order processing. This reflects a known principle in social psychology that familiarity breeds liking. Social psychologists apply this to people, but it can hold true for music as well.

In addition, we also notice change between songs. When you hear a great song and then a mediocre song immediately thereafter, that mediocre song seems even worse than had you listened to it by itself. And if you heard the same songs in the opposite order—first the mediocre one then the great one—that second song would seem better in comparison. This is known as hedonic contrast and has been shown to occur with visual stimuli, like artwork, in addition to music. The fact that we make comparisons between songs makes it important for an artist to select a good order for their tracks on an album. An artist’s worst song should not immediately follow the best song on an album. Of course, an artist can’t control what songs play before their song on a streaming site or radio, so they simply do their best to make every track the best it can be. Ultimately, if we knew the particular formula to make an artist memorable and beloved then everyone would use it, but the world would be a much less interesting place.

UGHH’s Conclusion: It’s probably no coincidence that melodic (read: sing-songy rappers) have a stronger hold on the listener’s ear. Meanwhile, that new school rap song you hated on first listen will become your favorite song if you hear it enough. Do what you will with that information.

Speak your piece in the comments below or over at the UGHH Forums.

In driving to pick up O.C.—he of the glasscutter voice, seminal Word…Life and Jewelz albums, and membership with archetypal rap collective Diggin’ in the Crates—I was reminded of the words of another iconic Brooklynite: “I come scoop you in that coupe, sittin’ on deuce-zeroes.” Very different context, naturally, but similar logistics. My head swirled during the trip: how best to couch this, how to balance D.I.T.C.’s vestigial clout and current appeal.

Then it occurred to me: allow the truth to be its own preface. D.I.T.C. has had a volatile history: brushes with the law; the slaying of rising superstar MC Big L; rifts amongst the remaining members. “Like Lord Finesse always said,” O.C. would reflect, “we’re all Alphas. And when you get that many chefs in the kitchen, there are bound to be problems. Shit, I didn’t see Finesse for three years prior to making [2016’s] Sessions album. It really bothered me when I went to Sean Price’s wake. When I arrived, everybody said Finesse had just left. So on top of feeling like it’s déjà vu—with Diggin’ and Big L—I didn’t want to see ‘Nesse on these terms. That woke me up. I was like, ‘Yo, I gotta let this shit go. I don’t care who apologizes to who because this could’ve been me or you. I don’t wanna go out like that. So I apologized; I don’t care who was wrong or right.”

So the story is about growth, personal and artistic. D.I.T.C. still has the power to captivate in the now while retaining rights to the past: “Some consultants recently told us that D.I.T.C. is a multimillion dollar brand,” O.C. would remark. “That surprised even us.” But commas and zeroes don’t accurately author D.I.T.C.’s legacy—a legacy that lives in the hearts and minds of listeners who, for the past quarter century, have held its projects and members up as benchmarks. Count this author among those refusing to let go. Note the insert, an art piece that hangs on my wall. It’s a mockup of a Helly Hansen jacket emblazoned with Big L’s classic single “Put It On.”

But growth can only be called growth if it’s perpetual, a lesson artists and fans alike struggle with: “A lot of people still want that 1994 shit,” O.C. would growl. “So it’s like, ‘Keep listening to that album. You’ll get exactly what you want.’ But people don’t understand. Nobody’s the same person they were 20 years ago. I can’t possibly make the same kinds of records. I wouldn’t try to. But that’s what has my drive so high right now; I’m feeling like I’m back in ‘91 or ‘92, grinding in my mom’s basement. When I had to take the train everywhere. I do the same thing now. It could be three in the morning and I’m coming back from Showbiz’s studio uptown. I’ll take the train, smelling the stinky-ass piss and seeing all the homeless people. All that shit is fuel for me. It gives me something to talk about.”

As it turned out, it gave O.C. and me plenty to talk about, too.

Fresh off his successful solo album Same Moon Same Sun (1st Phase), the veteran rapper discusses all things D.I.T.C.—from the birth of the collective to its current status, and the legacy of Big L.

Let me get this out of the way early: my MySpace name back in the day was Big_L_RIP.

O.C.: Wow. MySpace.

Yeah. Figured I’d lock in my credibility with that one. Moving on…

O.C.: [laughs]

Most heads know the Big L genesis story: how he accosted Lord Finesse while he was record shopping in Harlem, spit for him, and basically two weeks later appeared on the “Yes You May” remix. Tell us a story that only you know.

O.C.: After the Jewelz album came out, “Dangerous” was popping. This was the first time I got real radio play—despite having no ads, no video, no nothing. Fat Joe was on my ass about doing a video, like “Yo, that record could go.” Fast forward, Showbiz told me and L to meet him at this crib he had around the corner from Harlem Hospital. We walked in. and he gave me and L separately two bags; like two bags each. He’s like, “Yo, y’all gonna do an album together.” L was like, “For this, dogs? Shit, you got any more?” We started laughing. Show bagged us up and gave us some bread—quite a few g’s, just to start—just for the idea. We knew it wasn’t no free money; Show really had a vision about us doing an album together.

Which obviously never materialized…

O.C.: Yeah. The first record we did was called “Get Yours.” Diamond D got added to it later, when it appeared on the Black Mask soundtrack. That was the only record we ended up recording for that album; he got murdered right after.

Here’s something that has always confused me about L: rap is one genre in particular that deifies the dead. Even still, L hovers in this nebulous space; he’s beloved by an underground sect, but you can’t ask the average fan about him, whereas you can ask the average fan about much lesser MCs. What was Big L like?

O.C.: Quiet on the surface, but a beast when you pushed him. For instance: Showbiz would be randomly in his hood somewhere, spittin’. He would call L and wake him up, wherever he was at: “Yo, I got $500 for you, hop in a cab and come uptown real quick.” L would get out the cab, yawning, like, “What up dog?”—real cocky and dismissive. And he would shut down a whole cypher. L was not normal. He had rhymes upon rhymes upon rhymes. He was so genius that he had specific shit for people that he never met. I feel like when he went on the radio with Jay-Z, his whole shit changed. He found his pocket and it was scary. He scared a lot of dudes.

What about his creative process?

O.C.: Fluid, man. Constant and fluid. Like, I heard the inception of “Ebonics” on the road, touring for Jewelz. We was in Europe, on Spirit Airlines or some shit. He’s like, “Yo, dogs, check this out: When I’m lifted I’m high, with new clothes on I’m fly, cars is whips and sneakers is kicks…” and I’m like, “Ok, what comes next? He said, “That’s it.” I was like, “Get the fuck away from me, man. You woke me up for that shit?” And he’d do that shit all day. That’s how his mind worked. I took it for granted at the time. But now I look back on it and just shake my head.

Speaking of looking back, how does his death sit with you now, especially since D.I.T.C. has been getting a lot of recent burn: Fat Joe’s success, the Sessions album, and your solo stuff?

O.C.: Think about it like this: Me and L toured before he got murdered. After we came home, we always spoke, but I didn’t physically see him after that tour. And I’ve always regretted that, even though it was something that couldn’t be helped. I had to let go—not in the sense of forgetting about him, but I don’t want to celebrate his death. There’s enough of that. I’m not putting up pictures and shit anymore on the anniversary of his death. People ask me “Yo, you not doing that?” Who the fuck is you to ask me that? This was my peoples. And I’m not explaining it anymore, either.

That’s why I did the record “Real Life” Parts 1&2. I held on to this shit because it really happened in those streets that night. I was pissed at him because he didn’t show up to the studio—not realizing he was laid out. I think Show took it the hardest because he and Fat Joe actually went down and seen him: his boots sticking out of the bloody sheet. But Show and Joe both packed it away, because they’re not emotional dudes; they’re not going to show their feelings. But if I’m dealing with it from a distance, imagine how they’ve dealt with it? Imagine how people deal with things like that in general, man. It’s everyday. Then they got L’s brother Lee as soon as he came home: Finesse sat with Lee in an IHOP that day and he got murdered that night. Then L’s mom died. That’s not just tragedy; that whole family basically disappeared.

That disconnect is another of rap’s unsettling nuances: how the subject matter can be genuine pain to the artist and nothing but a clever line to a listener. So let’s reminisce on better things. How did D.I.T.C. come together?

O.C.: Diggin’ got a backwards-ass story: we came out as individuals, and then came together. As opposed to coming out as a group and then branching off, D.I.T.C. was always a production company prior. But I’m happy things happened that way; we didn’t want to be another Wu-Tang Clan.

Walk us through the specifics.

O.C.: Our history is so weeble-wobble, it’s crazy. I don’t even remember meeting some of these dudes. It was just like, all of a sudden everybody was around and we were crewed. I have to make up some lies about how I met dudes [laughs]. Initially, it was Diamond D, Showbiz, Lord Finesse, and unofficial members like Kid Capri and DJ Premier, because Show taught Preem how to use the SP12 [E-mu SP-1200 sampler] and the 950 [Akai S950 sampler]. There was another unofficial-but official-member of DITC; his name is Ogee, and he produced on my debut album.

But here’s the longer version: in 1991, I went on the first Source Tour with Organized Konfusion, because I had just done “Fudge Pudge.” It was me, Roxanne Shante, Biz Markie, The Almighty RSO, and MC Serch. Serch kept asking me if I was part of Organized Konfusion, but I think he was just fishing. Sidenote: I don’t give Serch enough credit, man. If it wasn’t for him I wouldn’t be here—me or Nas. Period. He gave me a career. He gave Nas a career. A lot of people are eating because of MC Serch.

Anyway, Finesse had to leave the tour to do the Trespass soundtrack because he was signed with Rhyme Syndicate. So Ice-T flew him out, and he came back with Buckwild for a few dates. That’s how we three met. That’s how my relationship with Diggin’ started. And that’s where the D.I.T.C. history starts. After the Source Tour, me and Buck started doing demos. It wasn’t no, “Yo, you wanna get down with us?” I went uptown to Buck’s crib and we just started doing demos, early Word…Life shit. We had three, four versions of records like “O-Zone.” Buck is the unsung hero of Diggin’; he got like 50 plaques in our studio—the most of anyone. But Word…Life was his coming out party.

I didn’t meet anybody else until I got the album deal on Wild Pitch. I hadn’t met Big L, Fat Joe or Diamond D. I hadn’t met Show or A.G. yet, but they were already together. Finesse had put Show & A.G. together. That was some crazy shit; Finesse and A.G. had gone to different high schools. Somehow Finesse heard that A.G. was the nicest in his high school. A.G. heard Finesse was the nicest at his high school. This is a time when people used to go up to each other’s high school and battle. So ‘Ness and A. got busy. Sidebar, they battled DMX too. But that’s another story.

Big L, you know about: once Finesse heard him, he was like “I gotta let Show and Diamond hear him.” This kid is in high school and, next thing you know, L got a deal on Columbia. And Show and Finesse are the executive producers of his album. It’s just crazy, man. I love this life: you never know how things are gonna unfold. How destiny plays a path.

Fat Joe happened because Diamond D is a genius. He seen something in Joe. Sidenote: the only person I never been around too much is Diamond. Diamond never even produced a record for me and I just realized that recently. Man, he never did a solo joint for me. But Diamond is Diamond, and he is the O.G. of the crew. And I don’t mean in age, but in stature. He can’t do nothing wrong for me; it’s nothing but respect.

So, back to Joe: he was in the streets, wilin’, and Diamond was like, “Yo, you need to get into this music shit.” Diamond just saw something in him. But Joe wasn’t hearing it right away, because his brothers and his mans was still in the streets. Then he started going to Finesse’s shows. From his mouth, it quickly became “Finesse, you’re the best rapper” at that time. But really it hit home when he realized, “Oh shit, you can make a living off this? Like this shit is possible?” It became what he wanted to do. But Joe said from jump “I want to be a star, I wanted this.” He created that. He wanted super stardom from day one.

That never bothered you?

O.C.: That actually helped us.

You figured it elevated the crew.

O.C.: Yeah. Because none of us can run from that D.I.T.C. brand. Not even him. I don’t care what he did with Terror Squad or Remy Ma; he’s always tagged with D.I.T.C. Every question from this magazine to the nondescript magazine that you’ve never heard of that did an interview with him, always ask him about D.I.T.C. He can never escape that. None of us. So it’s all love.

Here’s the funny thing, though. Before Joe dropped “All The Way Up,” there was talks of a D.I.T.C. tour. And people’s fronting on the bread. Fast forward a year after that shit went Platinum, and people like, “Yo, ‘Ness. Can we still work on that?” And Finesse is like, “You know the prices went up, right?” On top of that, the billing has to be Fat Joe featuring D.I.T.C. now. And It’s supposed to be like that. I’d be happy to take his scraps.

Even still, I feel like it’s my time to wear the D.I.T.C. brand on my back. I’m doing what Sean P did for Boot Camp. Everybody in D.I.T.C. has had the chance to lead: Finesse, Diamond, Show & AG. I feel like it’s my time now. That’s why I’m following up [Same Moon Same Sun] “1st Phase” with “2nd Phase: Road to Perdition.” There’s an appetite out there. I know it sounds insensitive, but Big L brought worth to the brand by dying. Nobody asked for that. That sounds ugly, but it’s the truth; the ugly truth. So I actually call us “D.I.T.C. Immortals” now. I tag everything D.I.T.C. Immortals. We didn’t know what we was. We just was making music. But this shit is special, man. You can’t talk to the dead. So I’m gonna keep creating as long as I keep breathing.

Speak your piece in the comments below or get the conversation started over at the UGHH forum.