Once the Sugarhill Gang started the courtship, it was only a matter of time before "Scratchin'" -- a collaboration between the World Famous Supreme Team and former Sex Pistols manager Malcolm McLaren that prominently featured turntables -- put a ring on his finger in 1984. He began collecting 12-inch singles by UTFO, Whodini, Doug E. Fresh, and later, Run-DMC and LL Cool J. From that moment on, Nakamura was committed to being involved with hip-hop. And until he reached high school a few years later, he thought his involvement would revolve around his own set of turntables.
But while Nakamura was in high school, he noticed that some of the other kids in his mostly Asian-American neighborhood, much younger than he was, were also playing around with turntables. And they were good, much better than he was. Much better, in fact, than he thought he could ever be. Nakamura couldn't have known at the time that the kids he was envying would become some of the most talented DJs (now, apparently, they're called turntablists) ever to scratch a record, collectively known as the Invisbl Skratch Piklz: Mix Master Mike, D-Styles, Yogafrog, Shortkut, and Q-Bert. Two of its members, Mix Master Mike (erstwhile DJ for the Beastie Boys) and Q-Bert, were inducted into the Disco Mix Club (DMC) Hall of Fame last year. Nakamura had every reason to feel inferior to them, even if he was better than most.
"I was a pretty good DJ," Nakamura remembers, on the phone from his San Francisco home. "Maybe not the best in the world, but you know, pretty good, right? I thought I was going to be a really good DJ-editor-remixer guy or something maybe. But when I was coming up, becoming a good DJ, it was the same period when Q-Bert, Mix Master Mike, all these other people were coming up in my neighborhood." He laughs. "I'm in high school, and I see this kid in junior high school, Q, and I'm like, 'I'll never be able to do that.'"
He laughs again, barely finishing his sentence. "At some point, Q-Bert really inspired me to not DJ," Nakamura continues. "All of a sudden, these guys around me are light years beyond me, and they're years younger than me. It was inspiration by discouragement."
But Nakamura stayed involved with hip-hop, shifting his attention away from cutting other people's records together with his turntables and focusing on coming up with his own sounds. He took on production gigs throughout the early 1990s, slowly building his reputation around the Bay Area while he picked up the skills to take on the rest of the world. It finally paid off in 1995 when he teamed up with former Ultramagnetic MC "Kool" Keith Thornton and Q-Bert to record the self-titled debut and finale by one of Thornton's many alter-egos, Dr. Octagon.
Originally released on the tiny Bay Area-based Bulk Recordings -- DreamWorks would essentially release the same album a year later as Dr. Octagonecologyst -- the record became an underground sensation, as Nakamura's dirty, arty beats saw and raised Thornton's wacked-out sensibility. Around the same time, Nakamura released an EP as The Automator, A Better Tomorrow, which was also met with acclaim, based on its John Woo-inspired, operatic take on hip-hop. When DreamWorks released Dr. Octagonecologyst, it was accompanied in stores by a separate disc, Instrumentalyst, that proved Nakamura had as much, if not more, to do with the success of Dr. Octagon as anyone else.
But just as the project was about to take off on an even grander scale -- the DreamWorks reissue had exposed the group to a new audience, and the band's slot on Lollapalooza seemed as if it would do more of the same -- Thornton disappeared. Dr. Octagon was forced to drop off the bill, and shortly thereafter, the group disbanded. Nakamura understands why Thornton did it, and in a way, he's thankful.