'High and Rising': The full story of Amityville hip-hop trio De La Soul
Thirty-five years after releasing their debut album, “3 Feet High and Rising,” the Amityville hip-hop trio De La Soul is having a renaissance. Their early albums, long mired in legal issues, are finally available on streaming platforms. Last year, the band appeared on the deluxe edition of “Cracker Island,” the latest album from their old friends Gorillaz. And De La’s Soul’s de facto leader, Posdnuos, is a Grammy nominee for “When the Sun Shines Again,” his collaboration with Common and Pete Rock.
The time seems right then for Marcus J. Moore’s new volume, “High and Rising: A Book About De La Soul” (Dey Street, $29.99). A combination of biography, critique and memoir, it argues that the band — known to fans as De La — was about more than catchy songs and flowery shirts. It was also about sonic innovation (thanks partly to producer Prince Paul, a fellow Amityviller) and breaking down boundaries both in hip-hop and in the larger Black culture.
Moore, 43, is a frequent contributor to The New York Times and the author of “The Butterfly Effect: How Kendrick Lamar Ignited the Soul of Black America.” He spoke to Newsday about his new book, the hard-earned comeback of De La Soul and the recent death of founding member David “Trugoy the Dove” Jolicoeur. (The interview has been edited for length and clarity.)
De La Soul was always an offbeat hip-hop group. What prompted you to write about them?
If you think about early hip-hop — and this is no slight to any other rapper — but LL Cool J, his early stuff was hyper masculine. As was Rakim, Chuck D, N.W.A. And I love that stuff, but I also knew I wasn't going to be those people. De La Soul felt attainable in a way. They didn't look like somebody who, if I saw them in real life, I should be intimidated. They look like somebody who you would just want to know.
Their debut album, “Three Feet High and Rising,” came out in 1989. What impact do you think that had on hip-hop?
Before “Three Feet High and Rising,” you could pretty much guess how the drums were going to sound on a certain song. You were going to hear the James Brown sample. Whereas with De La, I feel like they showed listeners — and they showed other rappers — that you can pull from multiple sources. Just because you're a Black artist doesn't mean you can't sample Hall & Oates and you can't sample Steely Dan. What that album did was kind of open up the landscape.
De La Soul's early albums were not available for most of the streaming era. Give me the thumbnail version of why.
De La Soul sampled liberally, and didn't always clear their samples. If you listen to Tommy Boy Records, their label, you think it's De La's fault. If you listen to De La, you think it's Tommy Boy's fault. So the combination of the liberal sampling, combined with the back-and-forth beef between Tommy Boy and De La, kept their music off of streaming for 20 years.
The death of Trugoy last year was a real loss to the group, and to fans as well. How did that affect you?
Man, I'm glad you asked me that. We all had known that Dave was having some health troubles for a few years, but it was still shocking. It was also doubly devastating because it was just when De La's music was coming back to streaming. He was supposed to be there, celebrating. He was supposed to be rapping and reaping the financial rewards that had eluded the group. And for him to get taken, so close to when the band was finally going to have a renaissance, just really didn't seem fair at all.
As a lifelong De La Soul fan, what do you hope the book accomplishes?
I really want people to read this book and appreciate the bravery that De La Soul exhibited. But quite frankly, I also want people to read this book and just know that Black people don't always have to be superheroes to be acknowledged. … The thing I want people to take away from De La is, because they were regular, that's how they succeeded. They were brave and they stuck to their creative guns and, ultimately, they won.