By Jim Schutze
By Rachel Watts
By Lauren Drewes Daniels
By Anna Merlan
By Lee Escobedo
By Alice Laussade
By Scott Reitz
His mother begged him not to sue. Rapper Tracy "The D.O.C." Curry says this in a rasp that sounds a little like resurrection's whisper and a lot like Miles Davis' parched bark. "She's afraid something bad is going to happen to me," the 27-year-old Dallas native says from his new hometown of Atlanta.
Once a chief lyricist for N.W.A., as well as a hit artist on his own, Curry claims he was also a founding partner in Death Row Records, the $100-million home paid for by Snoop Doggy Dogg, Dr. Dre, Tha Dogg Pound, and a CEO The New York Times recently called "the godfather of gangsta rap." Now Curry, the forgotten soldier, is taking on this music business posse that's beginning to look more like an army every day.
"I ain't sayin' I'm not a little scared," he says, but "it's time to get what's mine."
As usual, though, Curry will have to go through his ex-manager and former best friend, Marion "Suge" Knight, to get his money. The 320-pound Death Row Records chairman is not a soft touch. A former football star at the University of Nevada at Las Vegas who left behind the pads but not the spectre of violence, Suge Knight has a reputation for intimidation and an uncanny knack for getting competitors, like the late Eric "Eazy-E" Wright, to sign over assets for absolutely nothing in return except, perhaps, the opportunity to see another sunrise.
But Curry and L.A. Records chairman Dick Griffey have decided to take on the big man and his cash cow Andre Young (better known as Dr. Dre) anyway. Curry and Griffey are suing the label and its distributor, Interscope Records, for more than $75 million in general damages and $50 million in punitive damages. According to a 21-page lawsuit filed January 8 in Los Angeles Superior Court, Curry and Griffey entered into a partnership agreement with Knight and Young in January '91 to form a music-publishing and record company that was first called Future Shock Entertainment and later renamed Death Row.
"I'm the one who told Dre to change the name to Death Row," Curry says. "Dre was on Curtis Mayfield's dick at the time, but I told him that name was corny as a muthafucka. [Mayfield had a hit in '73 with 'Future Shock.'] At the time, D.J. Unknown was trying to start a label called 'Def Row' and I told Dre, 'Fuck that nigga, let's call our shit Death Row,'" recalls Curry. (Curry is also credited by none other than Dre for "talking me into doing this album," as Dre writes in the liner notes to The Chronic, Death Row's first release.)
After Griffey procured a million-dollar publishing advance from Sony Tunes Inc./Sony Songs Inc. in 1991, the new corporation bought recording equipment, blocked out studio time, acquired the rights for Def Row from Andre "D.J. Unknown" Manuel, and started signing artists--including Cordozar Broadus Jr., better known as Calvin Broadus and completely known as Snoop Doggy Dogg.
You can't tell it from his scratchy bray on the new sinister Helter Skelter LP on Giant Records, but the D.O.C. himself was once the most elastic and free-flowing rapper on the West Coast, with his 1989 debut LP, No One Can Do It Better, going double platinum. But soon after the record "blew up," he says, so did Curry's follow-up dreams, as he fell asleep, drunk, behind the wheel of his car and drove off the road and into a coma.
The first concern was that Curry might not live, but after 22 hours of surgery, much of it reconstructive, he pulled through. The lasting injury, however, was damaged vocal chords that left him unable to speak for several months. "The only thing wrong with my voice is the way it sounds," Curry says almost six years later, "and that's getting better all the time."
No longer smooth enough to rhyme "lyrical" with "superior," Curry had to change his style to fit his excoriating voice. "I crossed over to the dark side, man, and I've seen what's coming up at the end of the millennium," Curry says. "The gangsta shit is gettin' old. You can't just get out there with a fine bitch and a blunt and a 40 [oz.] and work the crowd. That shit's been played out."
On the apocalyptic Helter Skelter (ironically, the working title for the proposed Dr. Dre-Ice Cube collaboration), Curry raps about rebirth, secret master-plans, the here-after, in addition to the usual odes to "Bitchez" and his "Doggs." There's also a rhyming legal brief, titled "From Ruthless to Death Row (Do We All Part)," which summarizes Curry's past nine years: "I rose up quick from the pit/I was in 454 300 Benz/Nothin' but ends/But friends got me in a cross/Now everything's lost."
"I don't like to toot my own horn, but 'toot-toot,'" Curry says. "I'm a lyricist f'real. My job at Death Row was to make sure that all the words that came out on the albums were the shit. I'm one of the only people I know who's meticulous enough to go over every line, every word, to make sure it's all there."