|A few days ago I posted up a mural of Camron and someone I thought to be Questlove. I was then informed who was in the mural along side Camron. His name is Daymon Dodson. Daymon was a very well loved person who seems like quite a character. I wanted to show respect to Daymon and explain the mural. Click here to view photos of the parade that was held for Daymon on September 16th in Columbus, Ohio. I was emailed by Wes Flexner the following piece that he wrote for me to post about Daymon.|
Be in Columbus, Never See Bow Wow!!
(But you prolly saw Daymon)
By Wes Flexner
I dressed as Jim Jones for Halloween and my friend Erin rides for Jay Camel.
So when she sent me a link to Still Listening, I thought it was gonna be some stooped shit making fun of the Dips. However when I clicked on the url, it wasn’t footage of the Capo keeping 4 doods at the Rucker occupied while Cam runs to the whip to the get the hammer , instead it was an image of Cam’ron and Daymon, that my homie Sucko painted on a handball court here in Columbus, Ohio.
This makes sense because the site is called Still Listening to Gangsta Music.
The image was posted cause, really,really,really…..
Who doesn’t want to see a mural of Killa Cam?
This is 100 percent the point of putting Cam on the wall. Sucko had already painted another Daymon tribute.
So when it came time to have Daymon Day, in celebration of our friend’s life, we were like. Fuck it!! Let’s do something Daymon would think is fun.(no homo)
Put Cam on the Wall. It’s absurd. Cam isn’t dead.
So it would’ve made Daymon laugh.
And two, Daymon would’ve smiled his ass off if he ever got to hang with Cam.(again nh)
Daymon was a 29 year-old Black Republican that hosted the premier indie hop night for 6 years. This indie hop night is where people like Blueprint, RJD2, Copywrite and Sa Smash used to get busy, before they had booking agents, car commercials and managers related to Jay-z.
But like most people the same old scene got tiresome to Dame.
So he ventured out to anything and everything. From Hardcore shows, to noise shows, to house parties. We would hit up the Redzone every time Columbus Dipset member Chubby Baby would bring Juelz, Hell Rell or the Capo through town.
He was in the search of anything that wasn’t boring.
Daymon, being 1) a lover of music and the arts, and 2) a compassionate conservative, became an icon every where he went.
He was fun to be around, and absurdly hilarious.
I mean, Kenneth Blackwell (the man who fixed the last presidential election for Bush in Ohio) would be at his parent’s house.
And two hours later Dame would perform songs like “Bitch You Don’t Know Shit” over the theme song to 80’s sitcom “Soap”. And the chorus was “Bitch You Don Know Shit, You think you do, but you don’t, you don’t really know Shit” under the name Racist Joe”. Everyone could relate
There are plenty of people who don’t know shit, but think they do.
It’s a Truism.
Daymon had a great voice because he grew up singing in the church, and his Godfather was Andrew Crouch, a Gospel legend, who performed at Dame’s funeral service.
Daymon took the name Racist Joe from a skinhead of the same name.
Dame thought it was so impressive that someone would be so racist that that’s how their friends would describe them.
Kinda like “Fat” Joe.
But more fascist and confusing coming from a gigantic African-American.
And Daymon knew it would bother people, so he went with it for shits and giggles.
But Daymon wasn’t loved just for having a great singing voice, and a brilliant sense of humor.
Dame also had a really good heart and cared about people.
If a friend didn’t have health insurance, and they needed medicine, he would buy them what they needed, and would keep it on the low.
Dood would seriously come and pick you up at any hour of the day if you were stranded somewhere.
I don’t even know if he knew the ignore button existed on his cell-phone.
He was THAT accessible to people.
He led dance parties, and touched tons of people.
He was constantly in the alt weeklies.
So when he died unexpectedly for a lifelong seizure problem, the whole city felt it.
And when I say 1000 people. I am not lying. There were as many people crying, as Minnesota has lakes.
So on September 16th, every youth culture in Columbus, Ohio celebrated Daymon Day. There was a basketball tourney, a graffiti wall, and a parade with a Police Escort from the Park to a bar where bands of multiple genres, and deejays attempted to sweat out the tears.
The Parade was intense, because it was on a Football Saturday on the OSU campus.
That’s like a population density of Manhattan, but filled with suburban Ohioans who really like Ohio State sports.
Graff writers, skaters, bike messengers, rappers, metal bands, bar owners, and Daymon’s family and church members marched in the middle of the road waving flags and images through the sea of drunken Buckeyes.
Daymon had a huge afro, so the images of people marching startled everyone.
It looked like a Black Panther Rally meets the Pitchfork Music Festival in the middle of the road.
Skaters were doing kick flips behind police cruisers.
People were spelling out and chanting Racist Joe, which I am sure was even more puzzling to collegiate spectators who were enjoying a Natty Light, celebrating the Buckeyes victory.
I am sure so many people turned on the news expecting a Police brutality scandal.
When the parade got the bar, there was a huge mass of people that stood for awhile, realized the strangest and saddest joy anyone could imagine.
So it makes sense that a Twin City-based Dipset appreciating website would stumble onto Daymon Dodson.