What's The Key to Happiness?

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Good Morning! 🌞

Reporting to you live from Chicago, IL …

I’m here in the Windy City having a grand time. Swangin’ 🤙🏽

∙Explored the (very clean and wide!!) streets of a new city 🏙
∙Swam in a lake the size of Maryland, Delaware, and Massachusetts combined 🏊🏽‍♂️
∙Wrote a manuscript on a vintage typewriter 📃
∙Added dozens of new friends to my universe (what up new people!) 🌍
∙Housed enough deep-dish pizza and hot dogs to feed a midsize Italian village 🍕

I must admit, Lake Michigan, I wasn’t familiar with your game. They built most of 20th-century America around you for a reason.

Chicago this time of year is great. The open-air parks, sidewalks and lofty architecture provide a pleasant, uniquely Midwestern landscape. If you’re lucky, the lakeside breeze soothes you like a cool towel on your forehead.

It’s safe to say I’m not missing the stifling hell hole that is August in New York City.

I’ve been making the rounds at NABJ (National Association of Black Journalists) while enjoying the soundtrack of nearby Lollapalooza, a music festival attracting talent and fans from across the world.

Yep, Chicago.

Where else can you witness the antics of ex-President Trump, Stephen A. Smith, Future, SZA, Chance the Rapper and hundreds of the nation’s foremost media members on the same day?

You’ll be happy to know that I’ve published my second cover story, this time telling the story of Bizzy Banks and Drill music for Juce Magazine. I’m very proud of this and eager for you all to read. You’ll find that story further down!

I’ve been busier than I can even comprehend, but I’ve made sure to capture glimpses of the magic coursing through the veins of this great city. I hope you’re ready.

Kick back, put on a smile and enjoy the good stuff inside this post.

What’s The Key To Happiness? 🔑

I went around NABJ prompting folks with one simple question.

First, they usually ask me, “Well, what’s the question? 🤨” Dealing with journalists, the skepticism reaches considerably higher levels.

I hold off on asking them until the camera’s rolling to get their live reactions — the magic happens when you see their faces transform from neutrality to elation. Check it out.

NABJ’s Class of 2024 did not disappoint.

@redisdowntoearththey were so worried i was bout to ask something crazy 😭 #nabj #nabj2024 #happiness #love #positivity #downtoearth #writers #journalists #press #media #chicago #lollapalooza #dedication #drive #optimism

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NEXT ⏭ My Cover Story for Juce Magazine: Bizzy Banks — The King of Drill Music

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The King of Drill Music 👑

Words: Red Young | Photography: Christian Traver | Stylist: SIR Darryl Neal | Grooming: Maya Denise | Producer: Christopher Santiago | Photo Assnt. Malachi Smythe | Styling Assnt.: Jaileen Santiago & Saturn OVD | JUCE A&R: Gabe Cruz | Atlantic Marketing: Jason Johnson | Publicist: Francoise Blanchette

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It was the first hot day of June.  

Bizzy Banks and I settle into cushy seats ahead of our discussion, his gray hoodie concealing ear-length braids.

On the surface, Bizzy is a no-frills Drill artist native to East New York, Brooklyn, a place that produces some of the toughest figures in the city. When you really get to know him, you discover that Bizzy is a natural wordsmith, born to illustrate his reality through lyrical story. 

Bizzy had just returned to the city from a trip to Arizona. “Just relaxing,” he shrugs when I ask about his out-west activities. There isn’t much inspiration for Drill music over there. 

Drill music, a sound native to the streets of Chicago, dominated airwaves and quickly commanded the ear of popular culture in the early 2010s. Just a few years after the start of the craze, New York had something to say.

Drill music can be described as a genre of raw street storytelling, marked by themes of urban competition and extensive gang conflict. A derivative of trap music, the drill scene draws on real-world storylines and a hot potato style of musical exchange between rivaling artists. Think murky, heavy 808 drums, ominous melodies, and piano keys played in minor. A dark, minimalistic sound where the raw lyricism paints the whole picture. Just as Hip-Hop’s counter-cultural themes ruled during the hardship of the 1970s, New Yorkers turned to drill to express their angst.

What you should understand about Brooklyn Drill is that most artists are affiliates, close friends, or enemies of each other, often originating from the same neighborhoods, gangs, and schools. The music is far from fiction. The heightened familiarity among the artists makes for incredibly anecdotal and detailed music. When there are conflicts, the artists resort to diss tracks to address the beef, which can get hideously personal. Should a diss track mention a deceased associate or disrespectful lyric, emotions often translate to real-world violence. 

As Brooklyn’s drill scene began heating up in 2019 so did the streets. Artists like Pop Smoke saw mainstream success, pitting an unquenchable thirst for stardom in Brooklyn’s heartland. Everyone wanted a hit like Welcome to the Party. In the age of social media, however, the music itself is hardly enough to get the people talking. You need the look, you need the confidence, and you need the undeniable blood-stained street cred. 

A new market was open. A gold rush-style free-for-all erupted, the prize being street glory and instant fame. Rooted in the murky soundscapes of the UK Drill scene, artists like 22Gz, CoachDaGhost, Sheff G, and Pop Smoke formulated a distinct sound that would set off a domino effect of new faces and dark storylines. Brooklyn, after years of dormancy, had gotten its swagger back.

Amidst the madness stood 21-year-old Majesty Moses, known to the streets as Bizzy Banks. Small-statured and soft-spoken, Bizzy made a big name for himself through his explosive confidence on tracks like Don’t Start and Structure Gang Freestyle. Bizzy’s star was firmly planted in the virgin soil of Brooklyn’s music scene, just as he had prepared for.

“I was rapping since I was a kid,” Bizzy tells me. “I’ve always been about music: writing, freestyling. It comes naturally to me.” Being raised in a Trinidadian background and attending a performing arts school in his youth, Bizzy was molded to meet the high demands of being a musical artist in the modern age. Following his early success, he was eagerly motivated to continue contributing to the mosaic of Brooklyn artistry as the new decade arrived in early 2020.

Then, when the news of Pop Smoke’s murder broke, so did Brooklyn. Pop and Bizzy had grown close following their early success, and began working together on music and career moves. “We had a lot planned,” he reveals. The two collaborated on the hit song 30 just before Pop’s death, heightening the astonishing and confusing impact. “It was like a roller coaster,” Bizzy recalls of the time. 

Now that Pop was gone, Bizzy needed to take the next step to claim the throne on behalf of his lost friend. He had to lock in. Finding what spoke to him most, he produced a high volume of music from the heart. He was in the zone, and his growing acclaim reflected that. 

Then, boom. Another shockwave disrupted his flow, this one being the seismic impacts of the COVID-19 pandemic. “We was all outside, and then nothing.” Bizzy reflects. His will was to be challenged once more. Studios closed. Collaborations put on halt. Nowhere to perform music. There was no clear way to climb the ladder. How badly did he want it? 

Bizzy resolved to steady the course. Penning music inspired by quarantine-induced woes, he was motivated by his belief in his abilities and the opportunity that lay ahead. On the other side of lockdown stood the crown of Brooklyn Drill. Keeping his close-knit fanbase involved all throughout, Bizzy’s dedication to the grind produced his debut, GMTO (Get Money Takeover) Vol. 1.

Boasting hits like Top 5, Outro, Extra Sturdy and the heavily anticipated Don’t Start, Pt.2, the hungry, grieving streets were fed with the nutrition of ferocious energy and intelligent lyricism. Bizzy had arrived at the doorstep of Drill’s Majesty, accepting no less than the throne. 

Picture it: months of isolation, repressed emotions, and stifled sociability. Scores of online chatter and endless confrontation – tensions were heightening, and bound to reach a point of devastation. Murders erupted, and celebratory songs followed.

Calling out the deceased by name, the “Dead Opps” trend had become commonplace. Pride, respect, and affiliations were at stake. Retaliatory murders, often involving the innocent, became a typical solution. New York’s drill scene was booming with this morbid game of tag, and Bizzy found himself unwillingly in the mix. 

Ask ten different New Yorkers about their memories of the pandemic and you’ll get ten different answers.  For every story of struggle, there was one of relaxation, and, miraculously, one of indulgence. For essential workers, it was hard work and business as usual. Others clacked away at their keyboards and showed up half asleep to zoom calls. 

The “Bandemic” was a euphoric time for many in the streets, with unemployment checks fantastically ballooning to several thousand each week, amplifying the scam culture already festering in the fringes. “Outside” was in full effect, emboldening violent, nefarious, and chaotic lifestyle choices. Something had to give.

And it gave. 

As decisively as they came up, braggadocious machismo was ultimately the downfall of many artists who saw success. It seemed every day produced a grim chapter in the book of Drill, with tragic deaths and incarcerations rolled through the streets like a reaper with a vengeance. 

Though he avoids violence and keeps a tight circle, bloodshed accompanies the drill scene territory, Bizzy Banks being no exception. He saw friends and foes go down by forces he knew would soon creep closer, but remained steadfast in his quest for the pinnacle of rap. 

Bizzy kept a steady hand, producing music at a modest rate and keeping his Same Energy as a foundation. His creative process was one he mastered during this time of focus. “The beats talk to me,” he says, pulling down the cloth of his hoodie. “Once I got a good beat, I could talk about anything in my life. that’s just where the energy comes from.”

Bizzy’s not about gimmicks when it comes to his creations. Developing vivid imagery, comprised of his experiences in the streets of Brooklyn, just comes naturally. “I definitely freestyle a lot, but I take my time and write when I feel like my thoughts are all over the place.” A man of his word, Bizzy’s aim is to keep his lyrics as authentic and genuine to his character as possible. “When I’m writing a song, I want to word everything properly and really squeeze what I want to put into it.”

Bizzy’s hard work proved fruitful. He successfully established a strong international following and was regarded by critics and Drill heads as a dynamic force. Check any Hip-Hop, Drill, or New York City-based forum during Bizzy’s early campaign, and you’ll see just how beloved his artistry has always been.

Just when Bizzy’s star appeared primed for a higher echelon, a curveball walloped his plans. Again. Bizzy was convicted on several charges and in prison at 23 years old, tossing a wrench into the prime of his career.