In Soldier, rappers chasing the dream

Apr. 19—SOLDIER — Trainwreck Kenny pulls a rip off a vape as he sits in a desk chair in front of a computer, with two speakers thumping.

His bandmates, Slim Pickenz and Virgo, bump their heads softly, getting lost in the beat.

Over the track, you can hear Jelly Roll — who rocked the world of country with his brand of Hick Hop, picking up multiple awards at the CMAs this year — talking about smoking and riding.

Trainwreck Kenny casually says, "We've worked so hard on this song."

These three are the members of Klassic Klick, a rap group straight out of the land of Tom T. Hall.

Before we get to how a trio of rappers in their 30s — whose day jobs include managing a McDonald's (Trainwreck) breeding bulldogs (Slim) and installing light fixtures (Virgo) — got hooked up with Jelly Roll, we have to dial it back, way back.

From 662 to 606

Slim and Virgo — real names Justin Roberts and Jacob Thompson — are actually brothers. The two were the product of a tale as old as time in Appalachia. Their family was originally from Olive Hill, but they moved up to Mansfield, Ohio, for work. The two grew up there until their mom moved back to the area about 12 years ago.

Growing up in what they called the "Little Kentucky" part of town, the two developed a love for rap at an early age. Virgo said he always listened to music coming up and found he could learn the words to just about any tune — he got a feel for the cadence and the flow of rap and when he was in the eighth grade, and started writing his own rhymes.

Slim started even earlier, writing music when he was 12 as an escape. He fell in love with the rhymes of Tupac and Biggie (that's like loving both Ford and Chevy, for the uninitiated out there) and Bone Thugs-N-Harmony.

The two started making music together around 2010, making music in their mother's basement. By 2012, they found themselves in a rap session with a group out of Cleveland — they got called Klassic Klick and the name stuck.

Meanwhile, down in Tupelo, Mississippi, Trainwreck (Kenny Myrick) had already spent some years in the rap game. Growing up in the rough side of town — the type of place you had to watch your back when pumping gas, according to Kenny — he got his start making music in a closet with his brother, passing the microphone back and forth.

When he was 17, he started cutting tracks on an old Guitar Hero microphone. After proving himself to the older guys — who turned him away from the studios when he was younger — Kenny got into a rap group.

As with any music scene, the booze flowed forth. Kenny said he got himself into a tight spot with the bottle.

"If I hadn't been partying every day and I actually went to work like I was supposed to, I'd have been famous already," Kenny said. "I just pray that something out there gives me one more chance."

To understand how the brothers and Kenny hooked up, it's important to understand the beat in the rap hustle.

Like any music, the beat is what holds the song together. Ask the high school marching band and they'll tell you the drum line is the backbone.

But in rap, there typically isn't a band backing up the singer. It's a beat, painstakingly drummed out and tuned up. It can start with a ratchet, a guitar, tapping one's fingers on the kitchen table.

It starts with dead silence, according to Kenny.

One of the few chances Trainwreck said he saw slip through the cracks of his fingers is when his group down in the 662 (Tupelo area code) cut an album using beats he downloaded off the Internet.

"We took it to a radio station and we were sitting there bumping in the studio and he asked where the beat come from," Trainwreck said. "I told him we got it off the Internet and he popped that CD out and handed it back to me."

Turns out, to cut a song you have to own the beat.

So Kenny spent three years learning how to make his own beats — and then he started hustling said beats.

Not everyone can mix and match a beat, so the beat makers shop the beats around. Kenny said his beat business is going so well, he only has to work at McDonald's three days a week.

"They know I'm going to make it big, so they're cutting back, but I told them from the start I would be leaving if I make it big," he said. "My boss-man listens to my music; he knows the game."

About eight or so years ago, Kenny sold some beats to Slim and the two struck up a friendship over the Internet. They Facetimed for over a year — to the point their girlfriends found it a touch weird — before Kenny decided he needed to get out of Tupelo and landed in Olive Hill.

"I came here and crashed on his couch and I've been here ever since," Kenny said. "I'm not sleeping on his couch no more."

Which brings us back to Jelly Roll.

A while back, Jelly Roll did a verse over one of Kenny's beats. They bought it off a producer and tried and tried and tried to figure out something to do with it.

"I must've listened to that verse 15,000 times," Kenny said.

They cut some other verses with Big Lazy ("RIP," the guys said in a moment of mourning), but that couldn't fit with the Jelly Roll line, either. It sat on the shelf for a while, then Kenny would dust it off and try again, but he found no luck.

Then about year ago he revisited the material — just as Jelly Roll was getting red hot — dusted it off and tried again. It took a bit more finagling, but finally they cut a track.

By August, the group said they're hoping to get a music video out.

Making a scene

But that isn't the end of it. They're hoping to put two more albums out, something with more of a country feel.

"That country rap sound is what's hot right now," Kenny said. "We got listeners all over the world, a lot up in Canada and that one girl, where was she from?"

"Italy," Slim said. "She loved you, man."

"But what we want to do is build our fan base around here," Kenny said.

"I'm from the hood, I'm not from the country, but my dad was and his family were straight hillbilly," Kenny added. "I seen that Wild Wonderful Whites of West Virginia show and they were acting like my cousins. So when I moved up here, it wasn't too much of a shock."

In many ways, Trainwreck said he loved it — the sunsets over the hills inspire him, he said.

But the airwaves are nothing but country in his corner of the county. One disappointment was the lack of any rap station and only being able to pick up rock with scratchy static, he said.

"I know there's a lot of kids around here who like rap, they don't listen to country," he said. "A lot of country nowadays, unless it's Taylor Swift, I can't even tell who it is anymore."

So part of the artistic turn for the group will be the embrace of country rap, the hick hop — Kenny said it's currently the best selling beats he has down in Nashville. So keeping with the trend, he said the group is going to embrace the country feel, rapping about running mud trails.

"I've never seen a gang member in Olive Hill, Kentucky; that's not relatable around here," Kenny said. "So if they want to hear about mudding, we'll rap about it. But other things, everyone can relate, it doesn't matter where you're from. Feelings. Everyone has feelings. That's one way anyone can connect with music."

The current discography available online (YouTube, Soundcloud, Spotify or wherever music is streamed) make clear some themes the group tackles, themes relatable to the youth of both Carter and Jefferson counties: smoking marijuana and having success with the opposite sex.

"We do rap about that a lot," Slim said with a laugh. "I come from a family of generational weed smokers. I'm pretty sure my great-great-grandfather smoked weed."

"I'm pretty sure your great grandfather is the old man on the Zig Zag wrapper," Kenny cracked.

While rapping about reefer might make the regulars on Amen Corner wrinkle their nose, Kenny is quick to point out it's quite mild compare to today's mainstream rap.

"I can't hardly stand to listen to the stuff my kids listen to," he said. "Sure, we rap about weed, but they're rapping about taking Perc 30s and OD'ing. I don't want my kids listening to that. You can practically buy weed at the store nowadays."

But to build the rap scene in Olive Hill, Klassic Klick said they're going to start booking more shows in the local area. Right now, they have a show lined up on May 20 at a Vape Shop down in Sandy Hook located at 157 Main Street, in what used to be a former Cash Advance spot.

"My sponsor man down at 20 Minutes after 4 (the vape shop) set up a stage in one side of the building, so it should hold about 100 people," he said. "It's small, but we don't want a big room. There's nothing worse than playing a big room and only having 10 people show up. I want people lined up out the door, pissed they can't get inside. Then we'll go to a bigger venue."

Down the road, they hope to open up a studio in downtown Olive Hill, for any musical act to record. They said a recording studio would bring some life to downtown and give the kids an outlet.

"Some of these kids around here are spitting some pretty good stuff," Kenny said. "I wish when I was their age, somebody would've gave me that opportunity. I think if we could do that, it would show them they can do it."

'Grinding and hustling'

"It's about going out there and grinding and getting it and hustling," he said. "It's about going out there every day."

Kenny added, "What we're doing is legal trapping. I'm selling beats, we're trying to sell albums. It's all legal — I don't have to worry about nobody knocking down my door and taking me away from my family. But it's that same mentality."

They'll play anywhere that will have them — they have taken road trips hours away to play shows and rap with other groups. When they were drinking, they got into a few shenanigans here and there, but nothing too wild — nothing close to the antics of rock legends Motley Crue or Led Zeppelin.

Selling CDs out of the trunk of cars, handing out stickers with QR codes linking to their music — it's all part of the trap, the grind.

Their own label, Trap House Studios, started out in a decrepit trailer down the hill, in a back bedroom with egg crates for sound insulation.

Today, the studio is a lot nicer. It has paintings of their label, plus posters of mobster movie characters for inspiration. Kenny is a "Casino" guy and Slim is toss-up between "Goodfellas" and "Scarface," while Virgo is partial to "The Sopranos."

The ceiling is covered in quilt batting, like clouds — dim the lights and they can change colors, matching the "vibe" for Slim's musical muse.

"We call it our motivation ceiling," Slim said. "I'll just lay here and stare at it and start coming up with rhymes."

The guys aren't chasing paper to build mansions. Kenny said he'd be happy with a four-bedroom house and enough money to live comfortably making music. Virgo said he'd like to be able to pick up and take a three-day trip and not worry about paying for it.

Slim said he wanted to just his music in as many ears as possible. As far as money is concerned, Slim said he ain't hurting on account of his dog breeding business. Kenny had to wait three years on a list before he could buy a dog of him.

People are paying top dollar for them — he even built a house on his dog empire.

But the dream keeps them going, keeps them trapping. Even when it gets discouraging, like when Kenny said some teenagers treated him like trash down at the McDonald's, then drove away with their double cheeseburgers bumping to his music.

"That's my luck, I guess," he said.

The dream of making it big — big enough to live the American Dream — gets their hearts pumping thinking about it.