Monday, December 29, 2008

forever young

… I want to be forever young.

I once read a review of Youth Group’s debut album, ‘Forever Young is a musical encapsulation of Generation Y. Airy, optimistic, unsubstantial. The words don’t even make sense when you listen closely.’ The comments of a baby from the baby boom.

A lot of them love to generalise against us. We’re promiscuous, we love drugs, we’re rebel this we’re rebel that, rah rah rah. A lot of them seem to forget that they were labelled the Beat Generation, whose collective tantrums were well documented by the likes of Kerouac and Ginsberg. No, instead we are the Irresponsible Ones. It is the Age of Irony after all.

It seems that the children of history are always ostracised. The ideals and the culture of the current youth are invariably rebuked as ‘dangerous’ rather than progressive. The older generations abhor the lack of respect towards Tradition, yet conveniently forget their own apostasies in youth. History is full of these examples. The middle aged population of post-war Germany scoffed at the Dadaist movement of the young, yet they themselves shocked the world with cabaret. Likewise, elderly black Americans are alarmed by the indecencies of hip -hop, yet it was they who popularised the risqué ‘jiggaloo’ music of rhythm –n -blues. Is this hypocrisy of the old disapproving of the new ever -present?

Philosopher Maine de Biran: ‘A man grows old; he feels in himself that radical sense of weakness, of listlessness, of discomfort, which accompanies the advance of age; and, feeling thus, imagines himself merely sick… as the passions grow calm, as the fancy and sensibilities are less excited and less excitable… all that gave to the world of sensations its life and charms has begun to leak away from us, now that phenomenal existence is no more bolstered up by impressions from within or from without, we feel the
need to lean on something that abides, something that will never play us false–a reality, an absolute and everlasting truth. Yes, we inevitably turn to God’

Biran points out that the physical debilities of old age prompt us to lose faith in the power of youth and turn to ‘something that will never play us false’. While Biran is alluding to the need for the absolution of God, it doesn’t take a great leap of reason to conclude that the enduring nature of Tradition and Custom can easily fulfil that role also. As such, old age seems to be the cause of the shift in people’s ideals, prompting them to scorn at the young.

It is old age that rearranges our priorities from fun to comfort. From joy to satisfaction. It dulls not only our senses, but values of what is important in our lives. As we age, the ideals of youth soon gives way to conservative values of ‘just getting by’. The experiences of age discolour memories of the rebellious actions we once undertook as youths, until they become faded photographs of a forgotten past.

It happens to everyone. In fact, it is probably happening to you right now. You begin to make more decisions of ‘judgment’ rather than ‘heart’. Because that’s a part of growing old. You become a yes-man to Mr No, the voice of inhibition stopping you from following that wild hunch, warning you against love during VCE, who says ‘No, that’s not swell’ to the new wave of youth culture. It is probably happening right now.

When you grow old, when your senses are less excited and excitable, don’t dismiss the culture and ideals of youth with thoughts of Custom and Tradition. Dig up that faded photograph of you as the Young Rebel. Remember that you were once young too.


Tuesday, December 16, 2008

The Discovery Channel - worst job in the world

Hi, my name is Jerry and I have the worst job in the world. I am a crowd controller at soccer games, and my job is to look out for muzzas and bogan hoons with my back turned towards the game. A skill I have proudly developed over the years is dislocate my eyes to watch the game on the big screen, while my head is turned in the opposite direction.

To pass the time, I think about the sex I never had.


Monday, December 15, 2008

deetu has guides


We all thought moving out would be easy. But as Home Alone I-IV has shown, transporting furniture and entering a foreign building has never been so hard. As such, the good people at DeeTu (no, just me) have provided this guide to moving out, to give young’uns some insight into future life at Your Place.

Agents. We all know they’re getting paid to collect your money, but getting on good terms with your agent is almost as good as not fucking up the house in the first place. These guys will get on your case cos you’re young and have better futures than them, so don’t believe everything they say. Be adamant that the gigantic gash in the wall was already there when you moved in. In the event that you do fuck up, get your friends together to fix it (it’s a reason to party!), as getting the agent will only end up in the alarmed owner jacking up the price.

See also: Asian roommates, Aryan roommates, American roommates

Being a tightarse. After the initial period of smug generosity when you offer your mates to get shitfaced at ‘your place’, you inevitably become so tight you might as well be called Mr Wong. You will no longer feel the need to assert your superiority by loudly mentioning ‘your place’ in conversations, for fear those alcoholic fuckers will piss on your neighbour’s geraniums and drive over your mail box. Again.

See also: Banging roommates, Banshees, Breaking-and-Entering

Cooking. Shit mang, this is a tough one. Best to have at least one roommate from an abusive family, they would have learned this skill since like 3 (they can probably to do this while getting flogged with a belt too!) But yeah, you can’t really seen this working with 4 white rugby players, and Asian kids are fucking irresponsible in this area too.

See also: Candy from strangers, Camping, Choosing the right curtains

Drinking. Overheard at MC. ‘Hey bro (they were muzzas), I thought you had red label at your place.’ ‘Nah bro, no more drinking, bro, like I’m getting problems bro.’ ‘Serious? ’S going on?’ ‘Since I moved out bro, I’ve been shitting banana shakes. Like, Boost juice has nothing on my diarrhoea bro.’ ‘Shiiiit brooooo…’

See also: Dying, Damaged property

Electricity bills. This should have been covered in Bills, but I’ve gone past B. Anyway, always try to pay your bills on time. There’s nothing more depressing that making awkward chitchat with your new roommates when there isn’t TV to relieve your anti-social tendencies from emerging. Electricity is the defining characteristic of civilisation, so unless turning feral and shitting in your neighbours’ geraniums is your thing, you should politely fork out for the lights.

See also: Emotional breakdowns, Eels (in your fucking toilet!)

Feeling down. This never happens. Everyone knows moving out is the best decision in your life.

See also: Frat boys, Feeling out the neighbours

Gays. Moving out is like the first step into the Real World, and you’re going to meet a lot of socially marginalised groups. Like gays! These guys are generally pretty cool. But it is also true that they generally want to fuck you. All in all, these guys are a mine of weird information about sex. Honestly, everything you’ve ever thought was taboo are like tea parties to these people. Don’t be afraid to go up to gays and interrogate them about their sex lives with a pen and pad.

See also: Gaming, Going out without the keys, Guides to Everything


Homophobes. Yes, these people actually do exist. It’s the 21st century, and we’re less tolerant than the ancient Greeks. These people are generally classified into 2 groups. There’s the ignorant homophobes who believe gays are mythical creatures who don’t ‘really’ exist. They’re usually the conservative Asian dads who only care about sub-atomical electron movements in the third solar cell. Pretty harmless. But then you get the hardcore homo-haters like cowboys and Catholics. If you’re gay and you’re rooming with these guys, shit hon, just run.

See also: Hamstring cramps, Hormone rush, Hudson’s coffee

I. Yes, the number one. Always look after yourself when you move out, cos chances are everyone else is only looking after themselves also. MAINTAIN HYGEINE. You’re living in a sheltered and enclosed area, not the street, therefore you must make that distinction evident. Also, cleaning your room and your furniture is really important. I once went to this guy’s place, and he’s mattress was damp cos he didn’t air it for 2 years. Dudeeee……

See also: Igloos (moving into), Incestuous relationship (ending your)

Jangly keys. Fuck! This is so annoying on a hot Saturday night when you’re staying in and trying to sleep, and the Roommate comes home. Yes, I know you went out while I was JOing into a sock…little shit. The point is everyone should get a separate keyring for each key so they don’t bang together and disturb other people’s sleep, which is all this is about.

See also: Jealous roommates,

Keeping the peace. Being friendly to your new roommates/neighbours is important, not only to stop yourself from being labelled a dickhead, but also because you will most likely need help from them in the future. Compromising and admitting your mistakes is the key here. If it was you who ruined their geraniums, you should admit to it.

See also: Killing Me Softly by The Fugees

Living low. Unless your dad is a corrupt Chinese government official and all your income is tax free, you will, more likely than not, fall on some hard times once you move out. The trick is to leech off your uni as much as possible. They have heaps of funds for third world kids like you. It really helps if you’re ethnic too. Remember, food is more important than alcohol, and rent money is more important than shoes.

See also: Leery strangers, Landline vs Mobiles, Loneliness

Holy Shit! Dude's got three penises on his chin!

Money. Need plenty.

See also: Manhandling the landlord, Mixing drinks,

No-can-dos. These people are the cockroaches of the human race. They always say no to whatever idea you have and scuttle away before you can react. Fuck man, just say yes. Why say no when your best reason is ‘I cbf’. Fuckafuck. Don’t ever move in with these people.

See also: No offence to pretty much everyone I know, including me

Opium. In year 11, this dude who later became my reference for work offered me some laughing gas. After making sure it wasn’t going to turn me into a drug addict, I gladly accepted and took enough nos to make me spontaneously combustible. Once I stopped laughing and regained my composure, I solemnly lectured him against drug abuse. A year later, he offered me some opium and I declined.

See also: Oompah Loompahs at Sugar Tube alley, Eazy-E sucks cock

Parents. You can’t avoid them forever. It’s inevitable that you go back home to visit and do all the things that compelled you to move out in the first place. Just treat these visits as a positive reminder of what a good decision moving out was. Trust me, an hour into the visiting protocols and a couple of ‘dad-farts’ later, you’ll be missing your pissy roommates so much that you want to merge your inner beings with them. Is that weird?

See also: Puff Daddy, Pies for the munchies

Quest for ‘your place’. 15% of the fun of moving out comes from this part. That sliver of hope that you will find a place close to the city, close to your school, close to your work, close to your favourite club, where your roommates show you romantic interest, yet who you are free to snub without consequence, all for less than $100 per week, right? You little fucker.

See also: Quiche, Quarter pounder tits

Rancid milk. Aha, I have a good story about this one. But you don’t like stories do you… you fucking communist? Anyway, my cousin moved out and she said this guy she knows turned up to work sucking on a 2 litre bottle of milk cos he was too spoilt, to know how to make breakfast. The milk went, obviously, rancid. The moral of this little episode is that if you’re not good enough to take care of yourself, you’ll get slaughtered son. Jokes! No, seriously, learn some skills.

See also: Roommates vs Loner, Relying on others

Squatting. This is a pretty good option for those with a budget and who want to become addicted to drugs. Once you’re In with the squatting community, you’ll meet druggies, pov art students, hobos with ‘in my day’ stories. In short, fully sick cunts! So get out there guy, invade the nearest abandoned shack and stamp your middle-class authority on those homeless dole bludgers.

See also: Sterilising your cutlery, Sham salesman, Shaman medicine

Holy Shit! ...naw naw, they're not refugees, because we know refugees don't squat, they just get deported. Therefore, Squatters!

Theft. Standard procedure for moving out. To get started, you’ll need to steal the toaster from the ’rents, some cushions from your best mate, and maybe a couple of chairs from Myer. And a couch too if your bag is big enough.

See also: Trying too hard, Train stations and other amenities

Ultimatums. This seems to be pretty common nowadays as there are some roommates who are genuinely born with a penis on their head. This is where ultimatums come in handy. Get the other roomers on your side and do a little Treaty of Versailles on your rebel roomer. Tell him (as is generally the case) to wank in his room or …else.

See also: Using household electrical appliances, Unpacking,

Vandalism. If some local wiseguys bomb your new place with obscure ‘tags’, tell them to fuck off. You really start sympathising with those local immigrant businesses who call vandalism a ‘thorn in the community’ and who vote liberal. I swear hip hop and graffiti is undermining the english language with all this ‘nu skool’ spelling. In 2030, we’ll be known as the ‘fuktup timez’, where thug high school teachers listen to 50 cent.

See also: VCE (har har…), Vermin

Wetting the bed the first night you move out. BAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA. …hehehhehe…..he..hehe…..heeeeeeeeeeeeee. you poor wittle baby you woogie boogie boog. BAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAH.

See also: Wet patches near the loo, Wings, Where’s the Wanker?

This is the part where you yawn and say 'shit, what a weird dream...'

X is the most bullshit letter of the alphabet. It’s hard enough thinking of words starting with X (there’s like six), let alone those related to moving out.

See also: Xanthorrhoea, Xanax, X-raying balls repeatedly

Yo. (According to Yo: These are the house rules, Respect the Ripper Demon, Contribute or Die, You hos, Reppin for the Ghetto 213. Maybe Mr Ripper should have mentioned he’s 13 and has one hair on his balls.

See also: Yoghurt, Yoga farts

Zoos. Commonly referring to recreational sites filled with dislocated beasts and people with tasers, parallels can also be found between conventional zoos and Your Place. Indeed, the number of fucks screaming for attention and consumables is a common feature in both. And both categories feature notorious cases of dickheads dying. But most of all, both are good places to piss off the local inhabitants.

See also: Zionists, Zinc poisoning, Zap!


Wednesday, December 10, 2008

c'est bizzare!

It’s a running joke at my school that everyone’s either going to become a doctor or a lawyer. Indeed upon questioning about her preference of plans for the coming year, a friend replied, “A med-law course at the Harvard University of Oxford-Cambridge, of course”. Classic, but somewhat painfully true. After changing my mind a million times this year (advertising, fashion photography, marketing, journalism, PR, public servant) I’ve returned to my original decision of law. However my school really isn’t a cross section of the population, after all boys do exist in the real world and hence there becomes a need to look at other professions available.

Chicken sexer
Bestiality remains a rather unaccepted and illegal practice, and thats ok because this job isn't like that. Chicken sexers sort through baby chicks to determine if they are male or female and then segregate them. This is to enable those chickens to receive optimal nourishment for their likely commercial role later on. Did your parents make you go to a single sex school? The same principle applies here.

Golf Ball Diver
My school's right next to a golf course and once in while in our wanderings to and fro we will come across a golf ball. Unsure of how to utilise such superfluous equipment we kind of just leave them there. What we should have done is collected the heap, cleaned them and resold them to the golfers who lost them. Such is the job of golf ball divers who wake up at the crack on dawn in search of such dimpled spherical beatuies.

Fortune Cookie writer
It's a big claim but undoubtably one of the greaest mysteries of the Orient remains how the omniscent fortune cookie slips finds themselves to be written in English. Were the powers of its anicent art so advance that it forsaw the reader's inability to comprehend it's language? Or could this be the work of a dodgy middleman?

Cartoon Colourist
No joke, they do exist. This was the furture I was looking at had I decided to pursue an artistic career, or so said my mother. The worst thing is you don't even get to finish the entire cartoon. What could be more terrible than buying an entire tin of Derwents and not even having the opportunity to use all 96 colours and shades?

Ringtone Recorder
If you ever meet one, these are the ones to blame for those annoying chimes for mobiles. The doof doof ones are the worst. I know waking up before the sun does is a pain, but this isn't going to make your 7am train trips seem like a party. That being said, imagine how much worse it must feel to be recording these everyday. So maybe if you meet one, blame them but then give them a hug.

With ENTER results arriving dangerously soon; these options are becoming increasing less ridiculous. Indeed a pact has been made with Fox that should we fail life, a cupcake/florist/bookshop/café shall be opened featuring such dishes as “the cupcake of VCE angst” and “shunned by the family mystery meat”. Bon appetit.


Saturday, December 6, 2008

Finding work is a bitch

Trying to get a job like trying to get laid, you want to swear loudly when bitch-in- skirt says no, but you’re have to do it real quiet like cos you don’t want to blow your chances for next time. Come the fuck on corporate guy, long time no eat! What happened to hiring kids with a bus pass and a cheesy smile. No we didn’t know baker’s delight was Victoria largest provider of breadsticks. Yes, we want money.

‘Recruitment procedures’ are bullshit. Hey guy, it’s unskilled labour and I am suitably unskilled. HIRE ME! It’s 187 all day in the ghetto, and youre scrutinising the smear on my ‘curriculum vitae’? Give me the fuckn nametag already. Best& less, reject shop, it doesn’t matter…..just hand it over moerfucker.

Ethnic HR managers are the worst (thanks equal opportunity), they love to tell you about their struggles up the social ladder from the boat to a quarter acre block. And then they tell you no.

Fulfilled your employment quota? What the fuck? I just got internal bleeding from listening to all your refugee crap.

So. In lieu of this oh-so-serious youth issue, here are some things any prospective young’un should do in the face of rejection:

1. Smile sweetly and ask whether your friend Johnny got the job instead, while vaguely gesticulating to your right/left hand side. When the HR lady (as they generally are) looks around puzzled, cry loudly that she just knocked Johnny over, and kneel in some kind of resuscitation position. As the HR looks on pondering your mental wellbeing, threaten her by saying you will sue (on behalf of Johnny) if you don’t get the job.

2. Yodel like a retarded eastern European shepherd.

3. Lean forward conspiratorially and be like, oh that’s okay ms so-and-so, thank you very much for your time, but (look down and twiddle your toes nervously at this point) my daddy said he won’t love me anymore if I can’t pay for his bourbon. (Now scratch yourself suggestively). Alternatively, you can casually reveal some cuts on your wrist. You might even want to do the real cut n grind in front of the dude, just to be convincing you know? Don’t worry, its fun!

4. Lean forward conspiratorially and say, real quiet like, I’m a scientologist, don’t fuck with the thetans.

5. Carry a voodoo doll in your pocket, the head sticking out. When you get noed, ask the HR manager calmly for anything with the store logo on it, and 3 litres of her blood. If she’s a total comatose retard, and asks why (WHY???), say it’s for Johnny.

6. Pull your shirt/top over your head like a soccer hoon from Oakleigh and run around like you have Downers, yes in that aeroplane position, while screaming, ‘ahahahAAHHAHAHAHAHheheheeee, I GOT THE JOB. I GOOOOOOOOOT THE JOOOOOOOB YEEEEAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA AHAHHAHAhahahaha’ (in those exact words). Ideally, the bitch will feel too bad to bring you back down again and give you the job.

7. Walk away like the loser you are.

8. Lean forward conspir...fuck that, go straight out the gate and be like, bitch, I’m a head ho from head office and yo vanilla biscuit ass is on the line for being uncompassionate with yo fellow human beings, bitch. I’m kicking yo ass to the kerb, for rejecting my black ass, and for knocking Johnny down. We don’t dig dat no mo’ player.

(I guess you can do other races, but that canto chinaman shit lacks substance, cos we just want justice, coz life is fabulous, and y’all aint wit us, and this is HIP HOP, HIP HOP, HIP HOP, HIP HOP, HIP HOP, HIP HOP, and so on)

9. and so on

10. Finally number ten. Number one-oh is this: just enjoy blue collar living and forget the job. Drink a Melbourne Bitter in the chill and billy up the weed stems you got for 8 bucks a gram. This is life after VCE/HSC/backwaterequivalent, and this is summer. You don’t need money to enjoy it.


Summer Reading - a short on rebellion and dissatisfaction

I do feel dissatisfied with my job, and my life in general to be honest. But I think everyone feels it, you know? I mean everyone I know, especially the younger, more idealistic girls, have told me that they were not expecting life and work here to be this mundane. But, I’m not sure if this makes sense, I think, like, the city has some kind of power over us (laughs), like, it disables our ability to fight back or something. I don’t know. But I do feel this acceptance of mediocrity is taking something away from us.

- Joe


Her job was to sleep, the doctor had said. Take 2 with water, 15 minutes before you go to bed. It’s been 2 hours, and the rough calico covering of the sofa was a persistent reminder that she was still awake. She closed her eyes more firmly and tried to breathe as little as possible. Deep breathing stimulates consciousness according to the doctor. She saw herself sitting at the coffee table, staring down, expressionless, at this lump of cloth and flesh desperately trying to reject consciousness. Her lips curled. And then she was back. The heavy pounding of her heart put a sudden stop to this escape while the boundaries of consciousness returned. She had been holding her breath.

Resigned to the indistinguishable spots of reds and blues behind her eyelids, she thought of Jake. They haven’t spoken for months. Her friends, with their usual sneer, had told her he started smoking. It’s just cigarettes, she said defensively, then quickly remembered their situation and rearranged her face to be non-chalant. It’s no big deal, and I wouldn’t care anyway. They just sneered.

Turning around to peek at the wall clock, she secretly congratulated herself for passing a whole hour in memories, while also being guiltily reminded that physical movement delayed sleep for up to 30 minutes. Sighing, she closed her eyes on reality, annoyed at its presence. Klaxons in the distance reminded her that the City was awake all night long. Her mind travelled past the skyscrapers back to her town. Looking at her bills, her father had been furious, city people, vengeful spittle flying everywhere, how do they sleep at night. At this, she resisted the urge to cringe. She was half an hour behind already.

4:30. Leaning back and taking a deep breath, she rubbed her eyes open. Ceiling, clock, window, stomache, she threw up her arms in protest and quietly called life a piece of shit. That’s five days in a row. She walked over to the calendar, and marked a diagonal line. Neat clumps of black lines stared back at her like amused veterans sizing up the new recruit. They knew she was going to crack soon. At the sink, she surveyed her apartment for a place to drink her espresso. Fancy packaging has prompted to her buy many things she didn’t need. She finally settled on the bean bag in her ‘cosy’ but cold living room.

As the first magenta rays lit up the blue pouches under her eyes, she thought of the office and decided she was legitimately sick. Again, the doctor’s words came back to her. She sighed inaudibly. She needed a real job.


Interviews - Noise in Hip Hop

When Nas released his 2006 album ‘Hip- Hop is Dead’, not even he could fully understand the exact prophetic effect of his album. Fifteen years on, rappers have become the boy bands of the 90’s. Spouting meaningless rhymes for tweens, these so-called ‘hood niggaz’ have shamelessly turned their backs on true hip-hop to ‘roll’ with the likes of Britney Spears. Reminiscing about the days when hip hop came with heart not advertising, DeeTu talked to Arch Rival from Wikid Force, arguably Australia’s oldest and most decorated breakdance crew, about hip hop, bboying, and the soul behind the music.

DeeTu: What are some of the plans for Wikid Force over the summer and later in 09?

Arch Rival: At the moment, we’re doing a theatre show called Melbourne Breaks. We’ve been doing that in Melbourne since 2005, and we’re looking to do a 4 week season for in Tasmania. So, that’s on the books for 2009. But we’re also looking to possibly going to Dubai to perform at their Dubai Festival City event.

Sounds sweet man, so you guys will be representing Australia over there?

We will be representing Australia as bboys, but at the end of the day, it’s a showcase, so we won’t be representing like in a competition or anything. I mean, a couple of us are too old for that. (side note: Arch is 35, but his freestyles stops traffic)

Fair enough, Wikid Force and yourself has obviously been around for a long time, what was the breakdance and hip hop scene like back in the day?

Haha, it was crazy man. Wikid Force started in 88’, it’s the 20th anniversary for Wikid Force this year actually, but basically we’re talking about breaking in the 80’s. The breaking and hip-hop craze, or period, in Australia, in my opinion, was actually around about 82’ and 83’. I mean, Beat Street came out in 84’, and a lot of clips of Rock Steady Crew were coming over here at that time. That media exposure back then definitely helped the breaking scene. Me and a couple of the original Wikid Force members started out when we were 8 or 9, basically just as breaking and hip hop was being brought to the world. So yeah, the craze was definitely there man. We were learning from clips we saw and from each other. And the passion for the culture and music was really there, you know, which we never grew out of.

As a bboy, you are obviously been very much involved in hip-hop, so what does hip-hop mean to you, why is it so appealing?

Well, for me and Wikid Force, hip hop is more than just the music and dance. It’s really a way of life, I mean, pretty much all of us at Wikid Force teach, at United Styles and community centres, and we do a lot of corporate gigs. So hip hop has been really provided a professional pathway in that sense. But hip hop for me has always been about friendship. When Wikid Force formed, we were all like 14 or 15, and we’ve remained the best of friends. It’s really about that bond, that sharing of knowledge and common interest which really appeals to me for hip hop. I mean, I’ve travelled the world because of hip hop, and there’s been times when we had nowhere to stay, and people we’ve met would just invite us to stay at their place. So yeah, for me, that friendship, sense of community and dancing is definitely a big part of hip-hop’s appeal.

Speaking of the hip hop community, shows like So You Think You Can Dance and commercial rap artists has helped provide a lot of publicity for the hip hop and dance community, but there’s been disagreements of their value. What’s your opinion on this commercialisation of hip hop and breakdancing.

Shows like So You Think You Can Dance has definitely done well to promote dance to the general public. They’ve definitely gotten people interested in hip hop and dance, and inspired a lot of the younger generation to get a bit more involved. But I think, being someone who knows a little bit more about the culture, the show has generalised hip hop. I mean, a lot of the guys who are very involved in hip hop do have their disagreements with how these shows kinda just focus on the showy part of hip hop and breaking, to please the crowd so to speak. And that issue has definitely come under a lot of heavy discussion in the community. Don’t get me wrong, the commercialisation is definitely good to get people interested, but, I think, to really learn more about true hip hop culture and dance, you need to look a lot further.

Something that’s really bugging me is what bboys, poppers and lockers call, ‘having soul’ or ‘having funk’ when you dance. Being an accomplished dancer in all of these styles, can you give us a word on what ‘soul’ or ‘funk’ actually mean?

Man, basically, when you dance, having soul or the funk is releasing that ‘something within you’. It’s about being so inspired by the music that you just let it rip you know. I mean, some people are just born with the ‘funk’, like no matter what they do, it’s gonna look good. But it’s definitely also something that you can capture in your training in becoming the best dancer you can be. Ultimately, hip hop music and dancing gives you freedom man, and that freedom is where ‘soul’ and ‘the funk’ come from.

Just to close off, what’s your advice to some of the younger kids out there who are looking to get involved in hip hop and dance.

Well, firstly you should do some learning to know what it is you’re actually doing. Only then can you fully appreciate hip hop, you know. But yeah man, definitely get to a place where people are involved in hip hop and dance, be it dance classes, community centres, or anywhere else. If you got friends who are into it, get together and train. At the end of the day, you got nothing to lose by getting involved. By going to these places, and seeing and learning, you’re starting your hip hop journey, [at this point, someone turned on the jukebox and Hip Hop by Dead Prez started playing, no joke.], just like I did before, and the people before me. In the end, it’s just fun man, the whole hip hop experience is fun, you should never forget about that.

Check out Arch Rival and other Wikid Force members in class at