I met Phife Dawg in the ancient fandom of my twenties as he helped lay down the Scenario in ’92; I met him in person at Sundance 2011, where the legendary rapper from legendary A Tribe Called Quest promoted a documentary film about the group.
Malik Isaac Taylor, what his momma named him, seemed to enjoy the crowd and was hopeful the documentary, Beats, Rhymes & Life: The Travels of A Tribe Called Quest, would lend clarity to his plight and legacy. I enjoyed the doc (see my review here) but the ensuing years didn’t really bring the Tribe back together.
Malik Isaac Taylor, aka Phife Dawg
Nevertheless, it’s a film worth seeing, made all-the-more relatable by Phife’s participation. His presence (in the film and at Sundance) underscored the human element in the often ethereal, mythologized landscape populated by our idols. Candid about ongoing health issues, Phife couldn’t defuse obvious regrets about and hope for the Tribe, and seemed moved by the outpouring of love from the crowd.
Phife died March 23 at age 45.
I shared a walk with The Five Foot Assassin and the doc’s director Michael Rapaport after the screening and found Phife easy to talk with and pretty humble for a fellow who helped reshape late ’80s/early ’90s hip hop.
His passing on Wednesday burnished that memory, and is another after-the-fact reminder of how greatness is somehow fleeting and everlasting.
He kicks it still.
I lost my best friend in earlier in 2013, which was an emotional gut-punch that still has me shaken. Since I’ve known him for more than 26 years, to build another best-friend relationship in that amount of time would carry me into my early 70s, which is to say, unlikely. That’s sad to think about.
