17 JANUARY 11-17, 2024 westword.com WESTWORD | CONTENTS | LETTERS | NIGHT+DAY | CULTURE | CAFE | MUSIC | FIND MORE MUSIC COVERAGE AT WESTWORD.COM/MUSIC Collective Beats THE MAKING OF DENVER LEGENDS IS THE MILE HIGH’S NEWEST HIP-HOP CREW. BY JULIANNA O’CL AIR Waves of boisterous chatter, sarcastic jokes and bursts of laughter drift down the narrow hall of the ConwaySound recording and pro- duction studio in Wheat Ridge. The sound of the sibling-like camaraderie can be traced to one of the studio’s intimate recording spaces, a music lover’s haven that’s awash in a warm purple light. Microphones line the walls, and a massive set of speakers dominates the front of the room, paired with a monitor proudly displaying audio editing software and an electric keyboard lit with a faint blue glow. The culprits of the noise, members of The Making of Denver Legends hip-hop collective, lounge in old offi ce chairs in the center of the room, chatting idly. The six- member group, which is only a few months old but already commanding attention, has a clear Avengers vibe — together, rappers Binta Zang, Malcolm Whyz3, Jack Dawkins, ReSrface, Ego and Ason Yugen are a powerful musical force in the making. Dawkins is the mastermind behind the dream team. The artist frequents as many performances as possible, and in 2023 he witnessed the explosive raw talent of each collective member fi rsthand. “Over the course of the year, these other fi ve artists were my favorite performers by a mile,” he emphasizes. He’d also been itching to make some changes in the industry. “The artist is not always the priority when people are throw- ing shows, and I get it: There are fi nancial interests that have to be entertained for everybody,” he says. “I just had the sense that there’s a better way to organize and run a show and to treat people. “Part of it was I just love this group of people, so I wanted to bring them together for a show,” he adds. “And I didn’t want to sit there complaining about how artists were treated and not do something about it myself.” So on June 28, Dawkins slid into the Instagram DMs of the other rappers with a hopeful proposition: a group show where the performers would keep all of the profi ts. Zang was the only one who replied (“Shout out Binta,” Dawkins says). But the tides were in Dawkins’s favor: A week later, he attended the R&B Jamfest Vol. 4 at Your Mom’s House, where he ran into four out of fi ve of the prospective members. “I had an opportunity just to talk to them in person,” he says. “So the show ended and we all sat at a table, and I got twenty minutes to give them a larger vi- sion and not just a two-sentence pitch. I think from that point, for the most part, people were in.” Malcolm Whyz3 (born Mal- colm Whye) was one of the fi rst artists Dawkins had messaged on Instagram. “A lot of people reach out to artists in the city to do shows and all kinds of stuff, so I was one of the ones that brushed it off when I fi rst heard it,” Whye admits. But it was Dawkins’s genu- ine personality that swayed him. “I was more sold on him than I was on the show,” he says. “His personality, just the way he was moving, I could tell it was genu- ine. ... So when he told me about the other artists that he wanted to have on the show, it was a no- brainer for me. I’d already worked with some of them, and some I heard about just through making music. When we all got in a room together and started playing with music...it was very organic and felt natural, in a way.” “It was really nice to meet [them], fi rst of all,” says Jesse Santana, who performs as ReSrface. “It was just nice to see the energy, see the vibes, and then that manifested into the show.” As Whye noted, the team’s synergy was intrinsic. The rappers fed off of each other, pushed their creative limits and improved their craft — together. The grouping felt natural from the get-go, and the idea of creating a collective, rather than just doing one show, was accepted with enthusiasm. “I’ve defi nitely had a fear of producing in front of other people. I feel really strongly about my production, but producing in front of other people has always been a scary thing,” refl ects Aditya Kamath, aka Ego. “This group completely cured that. Now I’m running sessions where I’m producing for artists on a regular basis. “I think it’s because this is such a collab- orative, free space to be yourself to the truest, the funniest, the shittiest,” he adds. “That’s what I love to do in music, is collaborate — and then collaborate with people that can say no when they don’t want to do things but are open to your ideas, too.” The Legends produced their fi rst project — a That ’70s Show-like video (directed by Christian Hundley) and cypher in August to promote the group’s debut performance at Your Mom’s House on September 1. Kamath, Santana and producer Roger Despres cooked up a beat and presented it to the rest of the group. “We were like, ‘We’re doing a cypher if you guys want to join,’ and then everybody pulled up with verses,” Kamath recalls. “And two weeks after that, we recorded it all in one day.” The group recording sessions start with a fl ow state, some experimentation and a “Fuck it, let’s try it” attitude, as Kamath puts it. Then the group gives feedback, tweaks the track and tries again. “I felt like I would’ve come in harder if I had known the video was going to be that good,” Kamath adds. “Christian pulls up, shoots it — simple setup but really well done — and then we get it back in a few hours...and immediately, we’re just shook by the quality. That, to me, instilled a new level of confi dence in this group entirely.” Zang agrees: “I felt like I could have done way better...but when we did the second one, I was like, ‘Oh, yeah, that was just a little warm-up; let me show y’all what I can do,” she says, rubbing her hands together and laughing. She recorded her verse for the second cypher, which dropped on December 11, in one go. The collaborative nature of the collec- tive harks back to the ’80s and ’90s, when hip-hop groups such as the Fugees, Salt-N- Pepa, Wu-Tang and N.W.A. were the norm. And group creation was popular for a good reason — it meant a wider fan base and more industry connections, as well as the motivation to abandon comfort zones, take constructive feedback and raise production levels to new heights. “The ability to have all of us in one show, one cypher, merging our platforms together and showing people that artists do work to- gether in a healthy way, in a supportive way and don’t step on each other’s toes — people would love to see that type of collaboration,” Yugen says. “There’s a bunch of artists who are on the same page mentally and know ex- actly what they want to happen, and change the face of the culture in this city and where it stands on the pillars of hip-hop. That’s what we’re trying to do here.” The group wants to collaborate with other Denver artists, musicians and creators, building community connections and a net- work of creatives who crave a break from the hyper-independent music industry. “And I think as time goes on, as we work with more artists,” Yugen adds, “you’ll see this grow to a larger capacity.” “It’s hella cool when people share our stuff and be like, ‘Look at the Legends,’” Zang adds. “They fuck with us, they know we the Legends — ain’t nobody doing that. We came and we grabbed that shit, and it’s really making its way.” Right now, no future performances are set in stone; the collective is throwing around ideas, trying to see what sticks. But the Denver Legends have a heads-up to await- ing fans: “Expect performances, expect more cyphers, expect more collaboration,” Dawkins says. “It sounds trite, but expect more, period.” Email the author at [email protected]. MUSIC The Denver Legends pose in costumes used to fi lm the collective’s second cypher, “The Heist.” CHRISTIAN W HUNDLEY
