Benz and a Backpack

11 years ago today hip-hop lost Lamont Coleman a.k.a. Big L.

For all the attention that is (rightfully) paid to the legacies of Notorious B.I.G. and 2Pac, a lot of fallen soldiers tend to be forgotten. Last week Pun and Dilla got their due, today is Big L’s day. Purely and unarguably one of the dopest lyricists to ever grace the mic, L is a certified legend in Harlem. However, never too popular on the radio and without that trademark release or verse, it’s understandable that L has slipped through the cracks for many.

Actually, fuck that, it’s completely not ok. Big L was one of the nicest to ever do it, and has a pretty unbelievable hip-hop story to go with it. As a fellow uptown resident who spent much of my youth stomping around the same blocks L did (see mural above), I consider it my duty to put on all those not yet put on. Hit the skip for a brief but dope musical history of the rapper your favorite rapper stole all his punchlines from.
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Two summers ago I was lucky enough to catch the Paid Dues Tour at New York City’s Nokia Theatre in Times Square. I was particularly excited for it because the lineup included a bunch of artists I’d never seen in concert before: Kidz in the Hall, dudes from Boot Camp Clik, Blackalicious, GZA, all culminating in what I hoped would be a satisfying set from the godfather of hip-hop, Rakim.

I remember the show with particular clarity because my boys and I endured an hour-and-a-half-long train ride that should’ve only lasted twenty-five minutes. The stifling June heat had us sweating our shirts out while we were held in station after station by train dispatchers. People in our car were fanning themselves with whatever they had: Yankees and Mets fitteds, celebrity gossip magazines, folded-up copies of the Daily News (with a picture of a smiling Barack Obama- who’d just secured the Democratic Presidential nomination- under a headline that read: ‘HISTORY!’).

Once we pulled into 42^nd Street, we bobbed and weaved through swarms of people in the station and on the fume-filled streets (hustling because we were already way late), and by the time we got to the Nokia Theatre we’d practically melted. Making it through security felt like clouds parting to allow us entrance into a very well air-conditioned heaven.
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