HOUSTON’S HIP-HOP HISTORY
K-Rino and Point Blank share South Park legacy Q&A: Kyle Hubbard’s rap inspiration
Reginald Gilliand’s drawl speaks to the 25 years he’s spent rapping in Houston. His raspy, laid-back delivery sounds distinctively Southern — an assortment of elastic vowels and slurry consonants.
Gilliand, a Chicago native, moved here as a teen and settled in the South Park neighborhood, just outside the Loop in southcentral Houston. He quickly found himself part of a coalition of hip-hop artists. The South Park Coalition was organized by Eric Kaiser, a Sterling High School classmate better known as K-Rino, a pioneer of Houston rap.
Gilliand, who performs and records as Point Blank, shares a bill this week with K-Rino. The show and Gilliand’s latest album could be classified as part of a redemption narrative for the rapper.
“Some time has passed since I had new music,” he says with typical understatement. “But I’m still here.”
Last year, Gilliand released a monster recording, “No Money, No Reason.” Twenty-eight songs spanning two discs, the album was a grand reintroduction to a career interrupted. While Kaiser has released dozens of albums without a break, Gilliand went quiet after “Bad Newz Travels Fast” in 2000. That same year, Gilliand landed in prison. It was the end of 10-year habit smoking sherm, which involves soaking joints in liquid Phencyclidine, or PCP.
“Think about that a minute,” Gilliand says. “TEN YEARS. It destroyed my life, my spirit and my soul.”
Though Gilliand is now off PCP, he refuses to pretend that part of his life didn’t happen.
“It’s my history. I was young and dumb and running around doing dumb crazy (expletive). There were consequences for doing that. But it’s something I used to be that I’m not anymore. And I’m not scared to tell that part of my story. It’s my experience. All the experiences made me who I am.”
As Point Blank, Gilliand siphons his life into his music, which sounds revitalized on “No Money, No Reason.” He’s also compiling a hits collection.
“This business will march on without you,” Kaiser says. “If you’re out of the game, even for a year, it moves on. And people forget their history quickly.”
“They act like the history doesn’t exist,” Gilliand adds.
Kaiser was among the earliest rappers to record in Houston. His stage name reflects his combative approach to writing and delivering lyrics: “Killer Rhymes Intellectually Nullifying Opponents.”
The mainstream music industry was largely deaf to regional hip-hop scenes, so Kaiser brought together like-minded rappers because he thought a coalition of musicians could better draw attention than any single member. Without interference from industry hubs in New York and Los Angeles, the Houston underground produced unfettered music that reflected the city’s culture.
The SPC’s ranks swelled. As its figurehead, K-Rino was drawn to distinctive rappers with styles, personalities and stories that broadened the brand. The music produced by members of the SPC was varied, though it often reflected concerns and troubles in that specific neighborhood. They were making blues for a new generation.
Gilliand fit in well. He refers to himself as a “blues baby” and fondly
recalls listening to his father’s cassettes in the car: B.B. King, Latimore, Johnnie Taylor. His peripatetic, blues-loving father had moved around from Mississippi to Tennessee before settling in South Park.
“That’s the first place we really landed,” Gilliand says.
He quickly distinguished himself with a hard, combative style that caught on the 1992 album “Prone to Bad Dreams.”
“The most gangster song could teach you something real,” he says. “It might save your life.”
Gilliand lived the lifestyle until it caught up with him. But since his release, he’s approached work with a gritty persistence similar to Kaiser’s.
“I travel the world pushing my music,” he says. “From town to town, city to city, state to state, I’m passing it along hand to hand. And I can move (expletive). All my money comes off the street because I’m willing to go up and down every freeway with my product.”
The business of selling music — even among independents like the SPC — has changed greatly during the past 25 years. Gilliand and Kaiser lead different lives today. Kaiser still lives in the neighborhood where he was born 45 years ago. He’s never owned a car. After Gilliand was released from prison in late 2001, he relocated west of the city with his family.
What remains unchanged is the sense of struggle that informs the music. Both create music full of conflict and agitation. At this week’s show, Kaiser is plugging a new K-Rino album, “Making Enemies.” He’s still looking for a fight.
“You don’t want to be seen as a public enemy, but you want people to be aware of issues that are happening,” he says. “There’s an art to all the distraction today. All kinds of things in the world designed to make you not pay attention to what’s really happening on the streets, where people are abusing their power. I just try to not pay attention to the nonsense. And if you make somebody aware of issues, you can save people.”
As hip-hop acts in their 40s with unflinching lyrical content, neither K-Rino nor Point Blank will find his way onto the Billboard 200. But both reflect a part of the city in a specific way; their music is unique to Houston.
“I never went gold or platinum with sales,” Gilliand says. “But I still make a living. I raised my kids off of this. And I think that’s something. To make a living with real talk. You know what I’m saying? I’m glad I’ve raised my kids doing this (expletive), but this is also what I do. I’m in it. Until they put dirt on my body. This is what I do.”