Foundations blurb

Post-apocalyptic warzone. The earth is covered with craters, the trees are shattered into shards of burnt wood, garbage is strewn across the ground as far as the eye can see. The radio stations, buildings of record labels and commercial distributors, promotion headquarters and luxury mansions have all been reduced to rubble. And beneath all the rubble of all these buildings lay cracked and broken foundations.

Under the ground, under the layers of trash, dirt and filth, there lay piles of scratched CDs, warped records, busted tapes ranging from 8-track to cassette to DAT, snapped turntable needles, broken canvases and soiled sketch pads, empty aerosol-paint cans, melted linoleum and pulverized cardboard, soaked oversized T-shirts and ripped baggy jeans, pages upon lined pages of torn, forgotten rhyme books, and a plethora of destroyed microphones.

But all is not lost. At the corner of one of the dilapidated structures, a graffiti artist begins to paint, making use of the dozens of nearly empty aerosol cans he has managed to scrounge together. A DJ is spinning a scratched record on an old monograph with the needle from an addict’s syringe. A b-boy and a b-girl start breaking over layers of cardboard gathered from the surrounding area. An old man sitting on a lawn chair begins to beat-box. And in the center of it all stands an MC with a shovel in his hands.

His name is MC FÜBB. The words of dead and forgotten MCs and poets ring loudly in his mind and he drives the shovel into the ground and begins to dig. His goal: to journey through the rubble, reach the underground, and once there to lay new foundations in order to materialize an idea called, Hip Hop...