The history of hip-hop is populated by many distinct and memorable characters, and David Jolicoeur was certainly one of them. Even among the like-minded artists of the Native Tongues collective, the De La Soul MC—known at various points of his career as Trugoy the Dove, Plug Two, Dove, and most recently, Dave—stood out. A Tribe Called Quest and the Jungle Brothers also positioned themselves outside the gangsta rap tropes that dominated mainstream hip-hop as the 1980s gave way to the ’90s, but this is a man who named himself after yogurt, one of his favorite foods. Dude was different.
De La Soul’s earliest and most enduring work is often lighthearted, full of inside jokes and skits that aren’t necessarily meant to be understood by everyone. Dave encapsulates this ethos with a laid-back vibe and the kind of confidence it takes to feature a skit on your debut album that clowns you for being a virgin. Irreverent and imaginative, he could make even nonsense sound clever.
De La Soul—and Dave—occupy a curious position in the hip-hop canon: Their most influential records are considered classics of the genre, but due to sample-clearance issues and battles with their original label Tommy Boy, they remain absent from the digital streaming platforms where contemporary audiences live, and thus out of reach for many potential new fans. In 2014 they gave away all their music as free downloads in frustration. “We’re in the Library of Congress, but we’re not on iTunes,” Dave’s De La bandmate Posdnous told the New York Times in 2016.
It’s especially tragic that Dave has left us now, just weeks away from the arrival of De La Soul’s storied catalog on streaming services, too ill to join the group as they participated in the Grammy Awards’ recent celebration of 50 years of hip-hop. (An official cause of death has not been reported, but Jolicoeur had publicly discussed his trials with congestive heart failure in the past.) The outpouring of tributes in the wake of his death show that his life touched countless others, influencing and inspiring some of music’s greatest talents and shaping the foundation of hip-hop. What follows is a selection of some of his most memorable moments, a sliver of the legacy he leaves behind.
“Plug Tunin’” (1988)
High school classmates Posdnuos, Trugoy, and Maseo had already been making music separately before they got together to record the demo for “Plug Tunin’,” the song that would become their big break. Maseo played it for their classmate Prince Paul—the DJ for early hip-hop band Stetsasonic—who flipped it with a new beat and samples, played it for his friends, and got the group signed to Tommy Boy off the buzz. The genesis of De La Soul’s sound, it offers only a glimpse of their potential, highlighting their introspection and easy camaraderie.
“Me, Myself, and I” (1989)
3 Feet High and Rising, De La Soul’s debut album, is now firmly cemented as a hip-hop classic, but at the time of its release, the reception was more complicated. Their messages of peace and harmony clashed with gangsta rap’s violent expression of life in the ghetto, and when coupled with their D.A.I.S.Y. Age ethos (an acronym for “Da Inner Sound Y’all”), the trio were quickly branded hippies who were eager to write them off.
“Me, Myself, and I” is their attempt to present their identities free of any preconceived notions, particularly the socio-political baggage of the largely white 1960s counterculture movement. It became an anthem for the people in hip-hop culture that didn’t identify with the gangsta aesthetic—who didn’t want to be “hard” or “tough,” just themselves. It also marked a shift from the hard-edged James Brown samples of hip-hop’s golden age toward the more colorful aesthetics of the Parliament-Funkadelic universe—ironically solidified shortly afterwards by Dr. Dre’s iconic gangsta rap album The Chronic.
“Oodles of O’s” (1991)
For De La Soul, and plenty of likeminded groups that followed, it wasn’t necessarily an issue if listeners didn’t understand the slang, jokes, and references in their music—sometimes, inscrutability was the point. On the De La Soul Is Dead track “Oodles of O’s,” there is no deeper meaning to decode, it’s just some silly shit that Dave decided to rap about. Atop a beat that sounds like it could have been on Digable Planets’ debut—built from the bass line on Tom Waits’ “Diamonds on My Windshield”—Dave’s verse is as clever as it is cryptic, an inside joke delivered with a wink and a nod.
“Millie Pulled a Pistol On Santa” (1991)
It has its moments of levity, but De La Soul’s second album De La Soul Is Dead generally carries a more serious tone than their debut, an intentional departure meant to distance the trio from the unintentional connotations that came with 3 Feet High’s flowery images. “Millie Pulled a Pistol on Santa” is one of the darker hip-hop songs ever recorded, recounting the tale of a young girl who kills her father, a social worker and mall Santa who sexually abuses her. Trugoy takes on the unenviable role of a gaslighter who refuses to believe Millie’s account of her abuse. It’s an insidious sort of villain, the enabler that’s essential to the abuse yet rarely makes the headlines, rendered with chilling vividness.
“Verbal Clap” (2004)
In the early aughts, years after the tipped flower pot on De La Soul’s second album cover declared them “dead,” the group found themselves free of their deal with Tommy Boy, in a hip-hop climate that differed vastly from the one they came up in. Gangsta rap had moved into the club, and shiny suits were the norm. “Verbal Clap,” from De La’s 2004 LP The Grind Date, is a departure from the anti-gangsta posturing of their early career, but the threats of violence on enemies in Dave’s verse follow a larger tendency to react strongly to the public’s perception (or misperception) of De La’s music. His braggadocio makes for a bracing juxtaposition with the peaceful messages on their first album.
“Feel Good Inc” (2005)
While The Grind Date failed to make much commercial impact, it preceded one of De La’s biggest commercial hits in “Feel Good Inc,” a collaboration with Damon Albarn for the Gorillaz LP Demon Days. Dave spits his verse with an intensity rare among his discography. Yet he maintains his signature goofiness—appropriate for a cartoon band, and missing from much of De La Soul’s recent LPs. That “Feel Good Inc” remains De La Soul’s only Grammy Award says more about that institution than their discography, but it’s somewhat comforting to know that Dave got at least some of his flowers while he was still with us.
