A hip-hop fan’s introduction to the Notorious B.I.G.’s brilliance doesn’t always start with his seminal debut album, Ready To Die. I’m seven months away from turning 30-years-old, and even I was too young to fully grasp the LP when it first came out. After all, I was a cool 12-years-old when it was officially released.
For me, it was all a dream when that faithful Columbia House packet came in the mail one random day. I really couldn’t believe it. For just 1 penny, I could get 8 brand new CDs. This was in the ’90s when new music for me came via begging my parents to drive me to Sam Goody at the Cherry Hill mall — and then having to come up with an elaborate scheme to purchase an album with the Parental Advisory sticker aka every worthy rap album ever released.
At the time I was definitely familiar with Biggie Smalls, but I still didn’t have any of his music in my possession, except for a 99 cent Maxi cassette single named “Sky’s The Limit.” I couldn’t even understand every thing he was saying on the record: “sewing tigers on my shirt and alligators.” ‘What the hell is BIG talking about?,’ I thought to myself at the time. Nevertheless, I knew I loved the way his voice sounded. I knew that he was something special, and that I had to get his albums in my possession at any cost. That’s where the trusty Columbia House scam comes in to play.
By having two parents as postal employees, our family had a few P.O. boxes in our name, and little Mikey knew how to work the system. I was already hip to the excessive amount of “shipping and handling” the company charged for each CD — thanks to my older cousin who learned the hard way. Anyway, one small money order with a fake name, and a trip to “visit” my dad at work, and that glorious double CD known as Life After Death was finally mine. I can still remember ripping open the plastic wrapping and having to struggle with that pesky taping that held the jewel case closed. Yet, when I finally got it inside my Aiwa boombox, the sounds instantly mesmerized me. I mean that Puffy Daddy intro is intense to this day. Oh, and “Joe Lee” still owes Colummbia House $46.50. Sorry.
I played the skits and interview segments over and over again. I read the thank you’s and linear notes instead of doing homework. Countless hours were spent trying to figure if “I Got A Story To Tell” was based on facts. And I thought, ‘This Jay-Z dude is pretty ill’ on “I Love The Dough.” When I was feeling sad, “Miss U,” would help ease the feeling.
It wasn’t long until I was already working on my next scam to obtain Ready To Die. That’s a story for another day, though.