P Smoov is in the middle of hosting an impromptu listening session while cruising through the Central District. Seven of us have just pulled out of a convenience store at 20th and Jackson in a white minivan stocked with 30 beers, two packs of cigarettes, and a dozen new Mad Rad tracks that nobody has heard before. We're driving to Portland, where the group has two shows over the weekend—but we're already two hours behind schedule because the entire crew is hungover as hell. Everyone except Buffalo Madonna, the one person who should be in the worst shape.
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Rabid Child Images
DJ Darwin surfs and mixes at the same time.
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The night before, May 29, Mad Rad had triumphantly returned to Capitol Hill, the neighborhood that birthed and then banned them for various shenanigans roughly six months ago. Given that the foursome hadn't headlined a proper show on the Hill in close to half a year, their gig that night at the Comet was a predictably sold-out, raucous, beer-soaked affair.
Madonna, who later admitted he'd drunk more than a pint of whiskey before the show, spent the bulk of the night reciting his lyrics from the ground. He occasionally pulled himself up the side of a speaker, surfed on top of fans, and rapped seemingly everywhere except the stage. But liquor can't be blamed for all his disappearances. The crowd at the Comet was at full-on mosh-pit level when Mad Rad started their set just after midnight. Folks inside the club pushed, punched, and bumped into the band so much during their set that cords kept getting unplugged and an inebriated Madonna frequently faded into the crowd for minutes at a time. It wasn't the greatest Mad Rad show of all time, but those lucky enough to be there got the mayhem they expected—one of the biggest reasons people come out to see Mad Rad in the first place.
Considering how inebriated Madonna (real name, Nate Quiroga) was that night, you'd have thought he'd be in bad shape the next day, stuffed in a hot minivan with six other dudes. But as we drive away from the Seven Star mini-mart on a hilarious journey toward Portland, Madonna just cracks a beer and laughs. "Can you believe I had to be at work at 9:00 this morning?" he says with a grin. Then he leans his head back, takes a swig of Rainier, and says: "Fuck it."
For those in need of a primer on Mad Rad, they're the same group of electro hip-hop hooligans you might have read about for all the wrong reasons on a dozen music blogs across the city. Comprising MCs P Smoov, Buffalo Madonna, Terry Radjaw, and DJ Darwin, the foursome first made waves a year ago as some of the liveliest (and drunkest) party rappers in Seattle. They rose to fame, seemingly at warp speed, within certain pockets of the local music scene for their blatant who-gives-a-fuck attitude and their reputation for playing shows that felt more like hair-metal house parties on the Sunset Strip than official gigs.
Building off that energy, the foursome started playing actual living-room soirées to keep their buzz on a steady incline, and as the city's hipsters fell in love with their eclectic brew of synthed-out electro production and outrageously crass rhymes, Mad Rad had the feel of a group that was of the people rather than above them. Of course, that they're white rappers who look and dress exactly like their target audience undoubtedly helped; it's the same shtick that helped the Beastie Boys surpass more talented rap groups in New York more than 20 years ago.
Mad Rad's growing reputation as drug-addled rappers (which still applies) had its share of pluses and minuses. Sure, people were, and still are, quick to stigmatize them as such, but the spectacle of it all kept people coming back for more. By the time they dropped their debut LP, White Gold, near the end of last year, it seemed like the crew could do no wrong. They were arrogant as fuck, but tore up half the venues they played, and booking agents are quick to note that the group is good for business and can pack a venue due to their devoted fan base around the city.
"You'd be stupid to not book Mad Rad," says Melissa Darby, the main talent buyer at Nectar and head of Obese Promotions. "They put on great shows and they hit the numbers. I've had them pull over 150 people on a Monday with less than two days notice. They have people who will leave Capitol Hill to come watch them. They're an extremely viable group. Basically they're über-scenesters, and people come out and support them."
Mamma Casserole, the lead booking agent for the Comet, won't say what the exact attendance figures were for Mad Rad's May 29 gig, but says with a laugh that the club was way over capacity and that it was one of the best shows she's ever booked. But it's well-documented that the group has its share of detractors as well. At one point they were banned from seven venues in the city—Neumos, Havana, The War Room, Chop Suey, The Saint, and both Showbox locations—due to a series of immature incidents that have recently cast a dark cloud over the group.
