My Music Video

The video would take place in Latonia, an old-school Covington suburb crisscrossed everywhere by train tracks. It would be a nice blue-skied afternoon, very warm. I would be sitting in the driver's seat of an old 80’s Buick, or something similarly spacious for the camera to have enough room in the backseat for all of the fancy shots I wanted. I’d be wearing something very normal, probably a Reds hat and a Sons of Silverton t-shirt, and the music playing would be the eighth track of the album called “Bringing Your Pop Pop Back Isn’t One of Them”.

The Buick would be idled at a train-crossing as rusty, haggard train cars lurch along in front of it, blocking my pass. The camera cuts to me, only marginally irritated by the delay, nodding to the beat and gazing out of the window. I look over to the passenger seat, and the camera follows my eyes. In it is Waldo from Cincinnati, also nodding and looking out of his own window. Waldo’s civilian name is Scott; he’s a close friend, a partner in beats, and my favorite producer anywhere, so it seemed only natural that he be in it too.

I then look back at the train, camera focused on me again. I sigh and hit the vape pen. The viewer sees a hand tap me on the shoulder, and I give it the pen. The camera follows the hand back to its owner and we see that it’s Dren AD. Adrian and I became best friends after about 15 minutes of hip-hop discussion in the 6th grade. It was 1990 and there was much to talk about. He rips the pen, coughs and hands it back all while looking at his phone. He laughs and holds the screen up for me to see.

Camera cuts back to me smiling at whatever it is he’s showing me. The train, if anything, has actually slowed its pace. I tug on the bill of my hat and lean further back in my seat. I look back over again, and this time it’s Ill Mil seated there. Mildred is my favorite rapper that I've worked with. We first met in journalism school at UC, we both wrote for the college paper and years later made a couple of tracks together. We’re both traditional in our craft: boom bap and bars. She seemed like the right choice for the last passenger in the scene.

And then, so perfectly timed, the train would come to an end (without a caboose, of course, these are never cabooses), the flashing wooden gates would lift up, the car drives away, the beat fades out and the video ends with an ascending drone shot of the car making its way through Latonia.

There, you got to see it after all.