A no-holds-barred memoir from the primary architect of hip hop and one of the culture's most revered music icons--both the tale of his life and legacy and a testament to dogged determination.

Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five fomented the musical revolution known as hip hop. Theirs was a groundbreaking union between one DJ and five rapping MCs. One of the first hip hop posses, they were responsible for such masterpieces as "The Message" and "Adventures of Grandmaster Flash on the Wheels of Steel."

In the 1970s Grandmaster Flash pioneered the art of break-beat DJing--the process of remixing and thereby creating a new piece of music by playing vinyl records and turntables as musical instruments. Disco-era DJs spun records so that people could dance. The original turntablist, Flash took it a step further by cutting, rubbing, backspinning, and mixing records, focusing on "breaks"--what Flash described as "the short, climactic parts of the records that really grabbed me"--as a way of heightening musical excitement and creating something new.

Now the man who paved the way for such artists as Jay-Z, Sean "P. Diddy" Combs, and 50 Cent tells all--from his early days on the mean streets of the South Bronx, to the heights of hip hop stardom, losing millions at the hands of his record label, his downward spiral into cocaine addiction, and his ultimate redemption with the help and love of his family and friends. In this powerful memoir, Flash recounts how music from the streets, much like rock 'n' roll a generation before, became the sound of an era and swept a nation with its funk, flavor, and beat.

New York City.

The Bronx, in particular.

Throgs Neck, to be even more specific.

2730 Dewey Avenue, to be exact.

December 31, 1960.

A few minutes before midnight. At midnight I'd be three--a new year's baby.

Born on the one.

Born right on the beat.

I heard the beat. Should have been asleep but the beats from my folks' house party had me wide awake.

Felt those beats all over me. Coming through the walls. Riding up the legs of my bed. The rhythms, the grooves, the get-down party in the next room where the lights were low and the folks were dancing.

Let me in there.

Let me in the party.

I peeked 'round the corner. I recognized a funky old organ jam but man, I wanted James Brown. James Brown had that jam where he screamed, "No, no, no, no, no..." and I wanted to scream, wanted to jump in the middle of the action.

Like magic, my jam dropped. James started doing his thing and I started to get all crazy inside. Like I didn't ever want the beats to end.

I already knew house parties were for grown-ups. My dad, whose street name was Bra--made sure all us kids were down with the rules. The man had lots of rules. But right then, the crazy feeling inside me made up its own rules.

So I crept out the bedroom that I shared with my baby sister Lilly. The hallway was dark but I could see the lights in the living room. Red and orange and blue. Could smell it too--swirling sweet and heavy in the air.

The beats that make the party.

Could almost see those beats. Could almost paint 'em, they were so clear. At the end of the hall, to the left, in the living room was the party. Everyone was vibing on James Brown, feet stomping, voices humming.

Pumping up the beats, building 'em up, keeping 'em strong.

So deep and so strong I had to get in there.

Had to be a part of it.

Suddenly I was there. Living room in front of me with the lights down low and smoke hanging from the ceiling. Family and friends, grinding and freaking, moving and grooving.

Every one of 'em in step with the beat.

When I saw what that smooth and solid beat could do, I was sold.

That's the memory.
The beat.
The beat that would become the heartbeat of my life.

FLASH'S UNIVERSAL DJ RULE NUMBER ONE

Flash's universal DJ rule number one:
Don't stop the beat.

I was six and couldn't get enough of that beat.

The music would change whenever Dad went to the record store. Coming home with the new Sam and Dave, Stan Kenton and Ella Fitzgerald. Throwing 'em on the phonograph and calling up the party people. Late at night, the beat was always there in the living room. Which meant I was too.

'Butsy crawlin' out the crib.'

'Hey look, Butsy dancin' in his jammies.'

'Ain't he cute?'

Butsy. That was my nickname. Or Nonny. Doin' that crazy little bug-out dance that kids do. That was me. Had to dance. Had to let it out. So I'd crawl up out the crib to get to the party people.

My older sisters Violet and Carmetta were cool, but they weren't into the scene. The girls got tired of late nights, loud noises and cops coming around on complaints.

Police made you turn the music down. Turn it down or turn it off. Either way, it meant the party was over. Just that fast, everything stopped. But, man, you can't stop the beat.

The source of the beat fascinated me like nothing else:

The record player!

The spin!

The thing that goes round and round! That thing was the secret to the beats!

Party or not, I would drag a chair over to the record player, climb...

 

 

Grandmaster Flash (Joseph Saddler) and the Furious Five was the first hip hop group to be inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Saddler hosts a weekly Sirius Satellite Radio show, DJ Grandmaster Flash, on Hot Jamz (channel 50), Saturdays 5-8 p.m. ET.

David Ritz is the critically acclaimed author of the bestselling biography Divided Soul: The Life of Marvin Gaye, and coauthor of the autobiographies of Smokey Robinson, Etta James, B. B. King, and Ray...