Ralph McDaniels: The Funky Uncle

Ricky Powell: What up, Ralph?
Ralph McDaniels: Ricky, what’s good, baby?
RP: I was actually thinking of you recently. As a child growing up, what did you think of Ralph Kramden when you saw “The Honeymooners,” and the name Ralph, specifically?
RM: There were a lot more people named Ralph back then [laughs], so it wasn’t that bad. As time went on parents stopped naming their kids Ralph, so Ralph Kramden—because “The Honeymooners” has lasted so long—became an association. So by the time I got to junior high school probably, it was a pain in the ass and—
RP: You’re like, “No! Like Ralph Carter, jerkoff!”
RM: Exactly, exactly.
RP: It is kind of a White name.
RM: It’s a very White name, but my father’s name is Ralph, so I’m Ralph, Jr.
RP: Oh, what?!
RM: So how can you beef with that?
RP: Interesting from a sociological angle.
Next question. “Video Music Box” is an institution of both hip-hop and New York City. You just celebrated a silver anniversary a couple years ago. What’s up with it these days, and what is the future of “Video Music Box”?
RM: We’re still on NYCTV. NYCTV is a gift and a curse. You can get creative, but at the same time it’s run by the City, so the Mayor appoints who’s running the station. And then you got people there who wanna be somebody and they’re making a transition. They’re not necessarily there for the long run, like I’ve been. We get people from other stations that got cut off and they’re trying to recreate their careers.
RP: And the dude that conducted interviews naked in that living room, on the carpet, with the beard…. Remember that dude?
RM: Yeah, exactly. So you’re dealing with all kinds of different energy. You try to find the right energy that represents what we’ve been doing for a while in New York City. It’s not necessarily hip-hop, it’s just street.
RP: Sometimes when I look at ball players’ stats—someone like Tim McCarver who played in four decades—I always look at that like, he started when crew cuts were still in, and then he ended his career during the psychedelic-soul era.
RM: You see different things. To me it’s almost like in 2010 we’re back to 1979…1980. Hopefully we can get that creative blast that we had around that time. I think that young people are into all kinds of shit. They’re not just into hip-hop.


RP: You have directed videos, yesor no?
RM: Yes. I’ve directed about 400 videos. All of the stuff from Cold Chillin’ [Records] days: Big Daddy Kane, Biz Markie—
RP: You directed all those?
RM: Well, I produced ’em, me and my boy Lionel. Lionel “The Vid Kid” Martin.

RP: I love that show “The Bridge.” I’m a weird fuckin’ almost-50-year-old groupie of that show.
RM: [Laughs] Thank you.

I’m working on this thing now called “Emcee to Emcee.” It’s kind of a play on “The Bridge.” It’s a new artist that nobody’s heard of that we like—like we did this group called Triboro, which they all represent a different area in New York City, and then we put them together with Cold Crush.
RP: Mixing and matching.
RM: Right. For me, the new cats gotta respect the old cats, and the old cats gotta show a little bit of respect.
RP: Or openmindedness.
RM: Exactly. That’s what it’s all about, trying to find that combination and create an energy. The right beats, maybe a live band, whatever it is just to get that vibe.
RP: How about bringing back Little Anthony and the Imperials and putting some beats to it?
RM: [Laughs] That would be crazy right there.

RP: You know where I hear some of the best music? Washington Square Park.
RM: How does it always go back to this place downtown, man? I was born in Brooklyn, I moved to Queens, and then we were like, “We’re going to the Village.” And that’s where we ended up, in Washington Square Park, and I never really wanted to leave.
RP: I grew up here in this neighborhood. My first girlfriend lived down the block on MacDougal Street—Susan DeFranco. Her brother was a toughguy. Him and his two cohorts would stand and drink 40s of Miller on the corner and charge a tax for people if they wanted to walk on their sidewalk in front of them. They were like, “You wanna pass? Up a quarter.” But I had a free pass ’cause I went out with his sister, and he liked me, thank God.
RM: You probably played ball pretty good. That’s why he liked you.
RP: Yes, that actually saved my ass a couple of times. That was my shit growing up—playground ball.

Since we’re sitting next to Mamoun’s, the Mecca of falafel, name me three or four people you’d like to sit on a bench with in Washington Square Park with a couple of falafels and shoot the shit while you’re watching a little jazz group do their thing.
RM: Because I’m a Met fan, I’m gonna go with a Met player.
RP: Interesting. Fascinating.
RM: I’m gonna say Tom Seaver.
RP: Wow. He was mad cool, right?
RM: Yeah. Just from the outside looking in.
RP: How about like, Geoffrey Holder?
RM: Well, I’m gonna meet with Geoffrey, who’s my mother’s first cousin.
RP: What?!
RM: [Laughs] We’re gonna meet. I spoke to him yesterday.
RP: The Un-Cola Nut man?
RM: The Un-Cola Nut man.
RP: Oh my God! Somebody hold me up. He’s incredible. I’ve seen him. He’s a little frail with the cane, and he’s tall, so the gravity is working on his spine.
RM: Geoffrey came from Trinidad. My grandmother and Geoffrey’s father are brother and sister. So in order to come to this country from Trinidad you need somewhere to stay, and they stayed at my grandmother’s house in Brooklyn, 404A Hancock Street.
RP: And this is when?
RM: Maybe the ’50s. Geoffrey was a dancer, of course, and his brother was—
RP: Maurice Hines?
RM: [Laughs] No. His brother was a painter. You had the painter and you had the dancer. As a little kid, there was a lot of artistic shit going on, people coming in, like, “Oh, those are Geoffrey’s friends.”
RP: Now, this is when you lived in Brooklyn as a kid?
RM: Yeah, when I was born they were still around. I was born in ’59.

So that’s going on, and then Geoffrey moved out and started doing his thing, and it was like, “Oh wow, he’s become somebody really important.” I didn’t know how important at the time.
RP: And what was he getting into at that time do you think? Broadway?
RM: No, probably like Lincoln Center and shit like that.
RP: And then Live and Let Die came out, and you were like, “Whaaat?!”
RM: Yeah, the movies.
RP: Wow! He was dope in that.
RM: He loves hip-hop. I don’t think he quite understood it in the beginning. I used to talk to him about hip-hop and he was like, “Huh?”
RP: What did he think of LL Cool J?
RM: He probably didn’t get it at all.
RP: Really? ’Cause I’ve kinda been looking at “Going Back to Cali” and the “I’m Bad” video and I thought he was very impressive as a young man. Real superstar-type qualities.
RM: He might have. He looks at everything from a dance perspective.
RP: I bet he used to tune into “Soul Train” just to watch the Soul Train lines.
RM: Right, exactly. He did that.
RP: He would kill that. Imagine! That’s my new fantasy vision in my head: watching Geoffrey Holder go down the Soul Train lines with Judith Jamison.

Can you name anyone else you’d like to have a falafel with while watching a groovy jazz make-up group in Washington Square Park?
RM: Nate Archibald, because he was such a legend. He wasn’t a big guy.
RP: Still the only dude to lead the league in scoring and assists in the same season. He did that in like his second or third year.
RM: NBA legend and a Rucker legend. Guys that can do both, I got respect for.
RP: I love that. Now, wait. I heard somewhere that “Tiny” Archibald and Gil Scott-Heron played on the same squad at DeWitt Clinton.
RM: Really? I didn’t even know that Gil Scott played ball.

I did an interview with Gil Scott.
RP: Yeah?
RM: This was right here at the Blue Note before a gig. I think I might have caught him somewhere and I was like, “I’d really like to interview you, man.” I did the interview and it’s in Juice, the movie. If you ever watch the movie Juice with Tupac, I’m the Associate Producer.
RP: Yeah. I showed up to that premiere…with a cup.
RM: Oh, OK [laughs].
RP: Did you conduct an interview before or after he performed?
RM: Before. He got there early. He was setting up his keyboard and shit.
RP: What year was this?
RM: It had to be like late ’80s or early ’90s. And he was cool, he was in a good state of mind that day.
RP: I know how it can be—one day you change from the next.
RM: So he sat down and I was like, “Yo, can you perform ‘The Revolution Will Not Be Televised’?” And he looked at me like, “What?” He said, “Look, that’s a whole ’nother energy, man” [laughs].

He’s a dude that’s made a big impact on me. When I used the interview in Juice, he called me the day after it premiered and said, “Brother man”—that’s what he would call me, that’s how I knew it was him—“Did you put me in a movie?”
RP: Uh-oh.
RM: I was like, “Um, yeah…but you really don’t see you; it’s just kinda like your voice.” He said, “Brother man, that’s really all I got, is my voice” [laughs]. I said, “…Is that a problem?” He said, “Just let me know next time, because my daughter is telling me she just went to see some movie and I’m in it, and I don’t know nothin’ about it.” He said, “It’s cool, man. It’s cool. I just didn’t know what the hell she was talking about!”
RP: Whew!

Uncle Ralph McDaniels, you are one of the classiest dudes / New York natives I have ever met and am pleased to know personally. You are pivotal in being in this chapter of Frank.