So 2009 is here. RIP to 29-E, and my thoughts and prayers to 1st Black Prez aka Prezwell Jackson and Trama of Black Senate.

Okay—if you somehow haven't heard—a few days ago there was a shooting at Chop Suey. During a local hiphop show, someone knocked on Chop's side door, and when the show's host, Prez, opened the door, someone opened fire into the hallway behind the stage. When the smoke and confusion cleared, one man lay dead, two wounded.

What's ringing in my head is the same thing that resonates in the heads of so many others I know right now: It could have been me. I've stood in that hallway more times than I could possibly count and answered dozens upon dozens of knocks at that side door—I can literally hear the sound in my head right now.

What in the world is there possibly to say? I hope that the police catch the idiot responsible. And it'll be that same old song—a lot of people in this town will try to use this tragedy as an excuse to shut down everything hiphop in Seattle. But we can't be hung up on their lack of "big picture," because there's work to do. Some of my colleagues, fellow members of the Seattle hiphop community, and I met up last Sunday night to talk about where to go from here. To honor the fallen and injured. And to anticipate the backlash.

Wherever we go from here, we have to be honest. Our love for our culture, the teeth and nails we've ground down fighting to maintain it, makes us defensive of it—makes us want to point fingers back at our inevitable accusers. But we have to be clear, this year and every year to follow—we can't shirk our responsibility. Not the responsibility for taking a life that night—that rests with the sorry individual who pulled the trigger. No, we have a responsibility to ourselves, to the fans, and to this music to be accountable for our actions, and to be willing to hold others accountable—even if we live in a system comfortable with zero accountability. We can't let dumb shit fly at our events, we can't half-ass security when it's called for, and we have to be 100 percent real with our fellow artists/promoters/bookers. There are artists, sometimes with ties to the streets, who choose to focus on their art and music. And there are some that are tied (as in chained) to the streets, who choose to focus on it and all its extracurriculars. Which, let's not be disingenuous, attracts those who feel the same way and ups the bullshit quotient. DJ Quik said it perhaps the best—verse three, "You'z a Ganxta," from the Book of Rhythm-al-Ism:

See, some don't realize the power of lyrics

'cause when you rap about death, you talkin' to spirits.

Look, we are very much anointed. Let's not waste that.