culture

Big Pun’s Son Responds To Media’s ‘Misinterpretation’ That His Song Is About Dad’s Domestic Abuse

Rapper Chris Rivers released this song that has some rap fans upset.

The song “Fear of My Crown” is a new song by Chris Rivers, the son of one of hip hop’s greatest lyricists of all time, Big Pun. The music video for the song features several instances of abuse. One that stands out is an abusive father performing some heinous acts of domestic violence against his wife and son. The video culminates with the boy fighting back.

Many have speculated that the song and video were specifically about Chris Rivers’ relationship with his father.

Big Pun is often listed in many “top five rappers of all time” lists. The Puerto Rican rapper from the Bronx was larger than life in more ways than one. Lyrically he was a monster. And he was also, and this is not a scientific term, huge. The man wasn’t called Big Pun for nothing. At the end of his life he weighed close to 700 lbs. He tragically rapped “I just lost a hundred pounds, I ain’t going nowhere” in the song “It’s So Hard,” which released two months after his passing.

Big Pun left behind a legacy of dope songs, many of which featured him talking tough about kicking ass and shooting guns. Standard stuff for the late 90’s. But rumors did circulate about his alleged domestic abuse issues after his passing, with many fans rejecting the idea or saying it was either too soon or wrong to speak ill of the dead. His wife Liza Rios begged to differ.

In an E! interview, Big Pun’s wife spoke candidly about his abuse and even had footage of him hitting her with a gun.

She proceed to pull a shotgun on him. This probably wasn’t the first or last time the violence occurred. It obviously influenced Chris Rivers’ growing up in the household.

Although Pun and his wife had this history, Chris Rivers took to Facebook to address speculation by fans and the frustration the video caused many of them.

The intentions of the video was to raise the general awareness of domestic violence and nothing more . The story in the video was no way a depiction of my story or my father in any way , but the basic cycle of abuse. This was meant to be an empowering video for people who has been through this and a voice for kids and the people who has suffered and on that note it’s been very helpful to thousands of people who has been touched by it. Even the people hitting me personally thanking me for speaking up and giving them the courage to face their own past and grow from it. Unfortunately the media spun it and has been targeting and demonizing my pops off of it. Their misinterpretation of the entire premise is drastic and I️ hate to see my father who was a great man who did many great things, not only for hip hop but for his community and loved ones , be marginalized into a bad person because people wanna focus on one thing. I️ as his son have long forgiven any and all things from my childhood and see him as a great man. My family also. And if we can see that then others should as well. He was abused as a child and went through so much as well as had many demons which he struggled with in his life that he needed help for. It’s hard to not idolize someone so great but he was a human at the end of the day and did his best to overcome his tribulations. If you isolate one section of anyone, you can Paint a picture of a villain but viewing the man as a whole , he has his flaws as well as his incredible nature and I’m nothing but proud of him and love him dearly. It’s important to break the cycle and to not be ignorant about all parties involved and reach to a solution opposed to playing the blame game . I️ want this video to empower and bring awareness. To bring voice to the silenced and bring courage to the oppressed. I️ love each of you. I️ just want you to love yourselves. #DragonGod #DragonsUp #IFeelAwesome #YouShouldToo #SpicJames #SexSymbol #AlmostCool #LoveIsLove

Posted by Chris Rivers on Thursday, November 9, 2017

In his Facebook post he made sure to say to write that yes, bad things happened, but that’s not what the song and video were about. He wrote that the song’s intention “was to raise the general awareness of domestic violence and nothing more.” He further went on to explain:

“Unfortunately the media spun it and has been targeting and demonizing my pops off of it. Their misinterpretation of the entire premise is drastic and I️ hate to see my father who was a great man who did many great things, not only for hip hop but for his community and loved ones, be marginalized into a bad person because people wanna focus on one thing. I️ as his son have long forgiven any and all things from my childhood and see him as a great man. My family also. And if we can see that then others should as well. He was abused as a child and went through so much as well as had many demons which he struggled with in his life that he needed help for.”

The song is part of his upcoming album “Deloreon.”


READ: Lin-Manuel Miranda Coaching A Rapping Gina Rodriguez Is Everything


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In Honor Of LA Declaring Nov. 10 Morrissey Day, Here's Why Mexicans Love Moz So Damn Much

Culture

In Honor Of LA Declaring Nov. 10 Morrissey Day, Here’s Why Mexicans Love Moz So Damn Much

Dominique Houcmant / Goldo / Flickr

Yesterday, Los Angeles celebrated Morrissey Day.

CREDIT: Credit: Dominique Houcmant / Goldo / Flickr

“Los Angeles embraces individuality, compassion, and creativity, and Morrissey expresses those values in a way that moves Angelenos of all ages,” Mayor Eric Garcetti said in a statement. “Morrissey Day celebrates an artist whose music has captivated and inspired generations of people who may not always fit in — because they were born to stand out.”

Scholars, writers, cultural anthropologists, sociologists and generally curios people have attempted to find the origins and reasoning behind the connection between Latinos and Morrissey. They have yet to find a concrete answer, and it is likely that there isn’t one. There’s a very good chance there’s not a singular moment that served as the catalyst for that connection, but rather an overall collection of happenings and cultural shifts that have built this diehard following. That includes the influence of rock and roll on 1950’s pachucos and greasers assimilating to American life.

However, Moz, as he’s lovingly referred to, has his thoughts on the deep love between he and his Latino fans.

“Latinos are full of emotion, and whether its laughter or tears, they are ready to explode, and they want to share their emotion, and they want to give, and show, and show,” he once said in an interview. “I think that’s the connection because when I sing, it’s very expressive.”

Mexicans stand tightly together, heavily tattooed and full of heart, loudly singing along with Moz whether at a concert or in our bedrooms. It’s how we sing mariachi and rancheras with our families and friends.

CREDIT: Credit: mozzeriansaroundtheworld.tumblr.com

His songs are just as much our rancheras as anything by Vicente Fernandez, despite him being a pale British bloke from gloomy England. Both Chente and Moz express the anguish and awkwardness of loss, pain, love and desperation. Latinos are a people who feel and feel big, and The Smiths and Morrissey was another outlet to express our emotions. Particularly if we were outsiders, disappointing our parents with our weird clothes and weirder music.

We bring him flowers and cards, and express our concern when we know he is ill. It’s what we do for our family and friends who are hurting. We create bands in his honor, like the band Sweet and Tender Hooligans or Mexrissey, which does Spanish versions of Smiths/Morrissey songs and incorporates a Mexican sound. Think trumpets. The day Morrissey dies, I’m positive the Mexican flag will wave at half-staff and millions of pompadoured men and cat-eyed women will weep and light candles and play “I Know It’s Over.”

Morrissey is undoubtedly the patron saint of the sweet and tender Mexican. The Mexican who loves their culture –  its music, its language, its passion, its art, its high regard for love and family –  but also rejects its glorification of hyper-masculinity and antiquated gender norms.

CREDIT: Credit: Mark Oshiro / Flickr

The Mexican who cares about animals and sees the indignity in inequality. The Mexican who seems too soft to their parents and grandparents. That is, until the tequila flows. Then we’re all crying together.

There is a strong undercurrent of anglophilia in Mexican alternative culture. In the past I’ve written about Tijuana’s mod scene and attempted to understand how a subculture that grew as a direct response to post-war Britain had struck a chord with a group of Mexicans thousands of miles away from the foggy UK and who continue to keep the faith to this very day. The same curious connection exists with Morrissey and The Smiths.

Concurrently, my teens and early twenties were made up of countless nights dancing among shaggy-haired Mexicans to Blur, Pulp and, of course, The Smiths in a tiny Tijuana bar called Porky’s. The dance floor filled with screams of excitement when “This Charming Man” came on. The Mexicans that make up these subcultures are mostly working class and dealing with similar identity struggles British working class youth have encountered. There’s a shared experience there that seems to be more meaningful to the Mexican side, who have long adopted the style and sounds of British rock musicians. I’ve yet to meet any British people jamming out to Juan Gabriel or even Soda Stereo.

Morrissey, however, embraces his Mexican following and has adopted the culture to a certain extent. Some even call him an honorary Mexican. “I wish I was born Mexican,” he once told a crowd of Las Vegas concertgoers. He wrote a love letter to Mexico with the song “Mexico,” and gave a nod to his fans with “First of the Gang to Die,” about a Los Angeles gangster named Hector who meets his untimely end from a bullet in his gullet. 

When he sang about the dichotomy between his Irish blood and an English heart, and I could relate as a Mexican-American living life on both sides of a wall. The music of The Smiths and Morrissey often gave me the words I couldn’t form as an angsty young woman carving an identity for myself. Morrissey helped me sing my life, and he’s had the same effect on millions of other Mexicans. So much so that we tacitly forgive him as he devolves further and further into a blithering uncle with a penchant for arrogant shit talk and offensiveness.

Like when he said, “I really like Mexican people. I find them so terribly nice. And they have fantastic hair, and fantastic skin, and usually really good teeth.” He also blamed the near extinction of rhinos on Beyonce, and okayed the use of beloved black writer and cultural critic James Baldwin’s image on a t-shirt that included the lyrics “I wear black on the outside / ‘Cause black is how I feel on the inside,” from The Smiths’ song “Unloveable.” And then his views on immigrants are just…no.

He makes it very hard to love him sometimes, and yet we do. Perhaps because we’ve taken him on as our own.

I couldn’t tell you the first time I heard The Smiths or Morrissey, but as a first-generation Mexican woman who was raised on both sides of the border, Morrissey’s presence in my life has been as prevalent as my mother’s incessant yelling, my father’s rancheras and the deep conflicts that occur when you navigate a life of division.

The border I crossed every day was a too-obvious metaphor for the split in my being, and Morrissey’s melancholy voice and lyrics provided the soundtrack to my coming-of-age, mirroring my own vulnerabilities, anger, humor, heartbreaks, fears and passions. Those passions are shared by Mexicans and other Latinos alike.


READ: 7 Morrissey Covers That’ll Make Every Day Feel Like Sunday

Are you a diehard Moz fan celebrating Morrissey Day? Then share this story with your friends, who we hate when they become successful!

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