XL Music

The rapid ascent of Austin DJ Rapid Ric

By Joe Gross
AMERICAN-STATESMAN STAFF
Friday, January 27, 2006

It's really, really cool to see Rapid Ric walk into a hip-hop club.

The 24-year old DJ, whose real name is Ricardo Alameda, is Austin's premier compiler of mix tapes, those gray-market collections of hip-hop that act more as viral marketing than traditional albums. Usually endorsed by artists and tolerated by record labels, mix tapes (now mix CDs, but still called mix tapes) are often filled with exclusive freestyles and early versions of songs that could one day become hits.

Once the province of rap nerds and few others, mix tapes have, over the past year or so, risen up from the hip-hop underground to become a very public part of the hip-hop dialogue.

This is why it's cool to see Ric, aka the Mixtape Mechanic, walk into the Back Room on a hip-hop Sunday. Every artist and scene mover 'n' shaker who recognizes Ric comes over for a pound, a Hollywood hug or to simply pay their respects. Ric has a smile and word for everyone, eventually taking the stage to DJ behind Magno and Chalie Boy, two artists for whom Ric is working on tapes. They're also slated to appear on Ric's own debut album later in '06.

Last year's big tape, "Whut It Dew 2," was a critical smash, filled with verses from Houston vets such as Bun B, Paul Wall and Slim Thug. This year's "Whut It Dew 3," hosted by Houston rapper Trae — whose major label album is on the books for later in '06 — went on sale a few weeks ago.

A few days after the show, we meet at the East Austin house Ric rents. An intern burns mix tape CDs on a bulk burner in the front room as we walk through. Ric's studio is behind the house, a small structure, about as big as a large studio apartment. There's a computer, some turntables and a keyboard at the workstation.

"I'm still waiting for the security system to be installed," Ric says, flopping down onto the rolling chair in front of the computer's monitor. "That's why there's nothing all that nice in here yet."

Ric hails from Del Rio, a town he says is little like its small-town image.

"You either work for the Border Patrol or you work for the other team," he says. "Del Rio's painted like it's a nice pretty town, but in reality, it's totally run by drugs. I hear Houston guys talk about how rough their ghettos are. Where I'm from, it's dirt roads, so poor and ghetto but there's nothing to do but just joke about it. You go over to someone's house and see 50 bricks of marijuana in their bedroom. All you can do is make a joke: 'So, anyone have any weed?' "

By the time he was 14, Ric was DJing the occasional party across the border in Ciudad Acuña. "All the teenagers go to Mexico because the drinking age was 18, but if it looked like you hit puberty you could get a beer."

But there was no future for an aspiring DJ in Del Rio, and he left to attend the UNiversity of Texas in '99. "I just knew I had to get out of there," he said. "I knew that if I wanted to do something creative, I didn't want to get stuck there. I graduated on Friday and moved here on Saturday."

His first big mix tape, "Austin Powers," got him noticed after he gave some away at an Austin record release party for Trae's 2003 album "Losing Composure."

"I met 'em all at once: Paul Wall, Chamillionaire, OG Ron C, all of 'em," Ric says. The Houston cats contributed verses to "Austin Powers 2" soon after. Then the ball just kept rolling.

These days, mix tapes pay the bills, but Ric still holds down a Saturday night/Sunday morning show on 93.3 FM from 2 to 4 a.m. And he's started working on his debut album of all original songs from what he calls the Whut It Dew Family.

"I wanted to work with Salih (Williams, of Austin production powerhouse Carnival Beats), but he's too busy." (Williams is in demand after authoring the beats to Mike Jones' "Still Tippin' " and Paul Wall's "Sittin' Sideways.")

"I'm working with this producer named Dollar Bill from Corpus Christi," Ric says. "He's moving down here soon to work on this album." He wants to throw down some live instruments from Austin musician D-Madness. A rough version of the album's banging first single, "Pullin' Up," is on "Dew 3."

Ric leans over, opens a computer file with his mouse. The studio bumps with a song labeled "Screwed Up," a monolithic, droning track filled with big, clicking drums and liquid-pop synth bubbles.

"I WANT TRAE AND LIL KEKE ON THIS ONE," Ric shouts. Another song starts, a guitar line that doesn't sound much like much Dirty South. "THIS IS FOR CHALIE BOY," he says.

One more: piano plinking, a heavy, snapping beat and brick-like bass thump. Chalie Boy starts singing in a churchy R&B voice: "I'm a mover/I'm a shaker" and "Haters can't see what you don't show." Suddenly there's Bavu Blakes, calling himself Mr. Blakes now, spitting as hard as he gets, his voice rich and calm, sounding a little like the legendary rapper Rakim Allah.

I comment about Blakes' chill-yet-determined flow. "I TOLD HIM, 'FOR THESE TAPES, YOU'RE NOT GONNA BE IN JETTAS ANYMORE, YOU'RE GOING TO BE IN CADILLACS.' " Ric shouts. "IT'S A DIFFERENT SOUND, A SLOWER FLOW AND STILL VERY LYRICAL."

The beat stops. Ric smiles. "It's working. It's all working."

jgross@statesman.com; 912-5926