Rappers of all backgrounds join at King of the Dot and relish in the drama, fostered by York’s very own Kid Twist
Self-described as “the awkward, lanky white guy,” Alex Larsen, who goes by the stage name Kid Twist, is the last person you’d expect to see hurling profanities and insults during a rap battle. But the 25-year-old former York student has been perfecting his craft for years and is at the top of his game, spitting vicious taunts at Blackout 2, a rap battle event hosted by King of the Dot— known by fans as “Canada’s premier hip hop battling league.”
Club XS, transformed into something resembling a wrestling arena, is overflowing with fans who have come from across the city to see their favourite rappers battle it out at King of the Dot’s first event of the year. The battle league has quickly grown to become one of the most respected in the world, putting Toronto on the map for hip hop talent. What started out in 2008 in an alleyway behind the Eaton Centre has become a gathering place for the world’s most diverse and talented group of lyricists and a venue for fans to see a clash of the titans.
Larsen, who provides content for a children’s website by day and works on finishing a novel by night, is just one of the many faces you’ll find at King of the Dot that may surprise you.
“There are really people from every walk of life who battle rap,” says Larsen. “I know rappers who are nine-to-fivers, factory workers, teachers, drug dealers—the whole gamut.”
Taran Eapan, a 32-year-old Queen’s law grad, is a practicing immigration lawyer and has been battling for years under the stage name Osa. While Eapan acknowledges that his hobby might come across as aggressive, he says it hasn’t affected him professionally.
“If any of my clients did have a problem with it, which I’d understand,” says Eapan, “I’d advise them to seek out a lawyer they are more comfortable with.”
“I think what outsiders would find most surprising is which battlers fit into each category,” adds Larsen. “It’s usually not who you think.”
While Larsen’s appearance, sense of humor, and relatable persona automatically grant him the status of favoured underdog, Nova Scotian rappers Hollohan aka G.O.D. (Genius on Drugs), and Pat Stay play the roles of the villains in the league, both with reputations of pulling no punches.
Hollohan’s veins pop out of his neck and gigantic arms, and he is red-faced as he yells at his opponent Cortez, getting threateningly close to his face. The battle between Cortez and Hollohan is one of the most highly anticipated battles of the night, and proves to be the most difficult to decide.
Both battlers come with their best material, drawing on everything from drugs to family to deceased friends. Cortez takes a completely unexpected shot at Hollohan, accusing him of pushing his good friend to his death by encouraging his heavy drug use — this stuns the crowd.
Pat Stay is easily one of the largest men in the club and exudes a presence I find terrifying, having watched his past battles. A firm believer of the idea that battle rap should have no boundaries, Stay is known for making ruthless personal attacks and mentally destroying his opponents.
I ask Larsen about the personalities of battle rappers like Hollohan and Stay—are they really as mean as they seem? Are they personalities or personas? He compares battle rappers to pro wrestlers. The characters of the wrestlers are just exaggerated versions of themselves, blown up for entertainment purposes.
“It’s funny that you mentioned Pat and Hollohan,” says Larsen. “They are two of the only guys whose personas match their real personalities 100 per cent. Especially Hollohan.”
Osa agrees. Stay is always blunt, but he’s a genuinely nice guy. How real is his larger-than-life persona?
“Pat will knock you the fuck out,” he laughs. “Is that real?”
While he admires Stay’s talent, Eapan disagrees completely with his battle rap ethics. There is no official code of conduct, so essentially everything is fair game at King of the Dot. This includes race, religion, sexual orientation, physical appearance, children, spouses—you name it.
Eapan says he would never research someone’s private affairs to find battle material.
“But it’s really all about the individual’s conscience,” he says.
Larsen’s views evolved as the battle scene gained more and more exposure. Near the beginning, when the rappers and the fans all knew each other to a certain degree, Larsen was more comfortable using material that contradicted to his personal beliefs, like gay-bashing lines, for example.
“I knew that everyone would take it as a joke being made within a specific context,” he says.
Larsen stresses the importance of strategy when he describes his creative process. Instead of sitting down and writing his verses all at once, he jots down lines as they come to him, and strings them together methodically afterwards, trying to anticipate his opponent’s responses and the crowd’s reactions.
Flips—or rebuttals—are the only remnants of free-styling left in battle rap, and get the best crowd responses. When the opportunity for a flip is there, it shouldn’t be missed. The verses, on the other hand, are prepared meticulously beforehand and practiced for weeks, sometimes even months before the battles.
Rap battles are like wrestling matches, mostly without the physical violence. Witty punchlines replace the punches and the crowds are just as merciless. You’re either repulsed by the seemingly hostile environment where crude, racist, sexist, and homophobic jokes are perfectly acceptable, or like myself, you’re instantly captivated by the passion of the fans and the talent of the artists.
Tamara Khandaker, Staff Writer
